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nincompoopydoo · 3 years

Note

Can I request a Fred Weasley oneshot with the promts "you don't love him", and "love is supposed to be good". Thanks 😊

GOOD, PURE, AND BEAUTIFUL

PAIRING: Fred Weasley x reader WORD COUNT: 1.9k (about 1000 words my ass) SUMMARY: The Leaky Cauldron serves as a sanctuary to drink your problems away for the night but a certain ginger always seems to find his way to you. Possible part 2? A/N: Sorry this took so long, I had to rewrite the hold dang thing and I know I said I would write around 1000 words but looks like i can’t help but be long-winded. WARNINGS: Angst. Mentions of getting drunk. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERLIST

You find solace in the pint of butterbeer, sitting at a table for two, tucked by the corner and under the archways of the Leaky Cauldron. The passing wizards in sleek venerable trench coats and witches with an odd taste in hats only act as an activity of sightseeing in keeping yourself awake, hypothesizing strangers’ lives and whether they might have gnomes lurking in their gardens or have gardens in the first place.

You are drawn to the drifting scent of butterscotch—the tankard of butterbeer sits glumly in your grasp as it has lost all its foam. You take a sip, more of a gulp, feeling the gas building up in your abdomen, and the sweetness to it almost feels sickening at this point.

Belly full yet feeling extremely empty.

The days leading up to you, being here at the Leaky Cauldron, and playing the part of the drunken witch very well weren't exactly pleasant. Flourish and Blotts seem to lose its shine in fulfilling your love for books and organization with every passing day and your relationship with the boy you met and fell madly in love with during your sixth year don’t seem to hold the same spark as before. Walter was a Ravenclaw—handsome, diligent, and incredibly smart. You and him dating had been an on-and-off situation because the one thing you two share in common is the lack of decisiveness.

Today, tonight, you and Walter are finally resolute. The true end where second, third, or fourth chances will never cease to exist from now on. With the new offer for a job in America, you and he both know drifting apart seems to be the only reasonable solution to the whole mess of what you assumed was love.

He spoke the words in this very spot, sat in the chair across from you. You had been watching the way his thumb would caress the back of his other hand and you knew, the night was bound to end in a disastrous way. An unfortunate turn of events for the witch who doesn’t truly know if she ever loved another or was ever loved.

Yet, you sit here, eyes completely dry. Far from crestfallen, far from regret. Only filled with the dread of not feeling the sadness you’re supposed to be feeling. You ignore how your shoulders feel lighter and how the tightness in your chest seems to have miraculously disappeared as soon as you watched Walter walk out of the Leaky Cauldron.

Are the butterbeers celebratory or depressing? You’re not sure.

You rest your chin on your palm, feeling like you’re in a daze. Butterbeer isn’t necessarily the type of drink to get you intoxicated but noting the rate you’re consuming each mug, it’s no surprise that you’re just a little tipsy.

Then, you see a certain ginger twin emerge from the entrance of the pub like some divine intervention. He seems to spot you from afar, waving in your direction. You lift your hand weakly in the midst of trying to figure out which of the twins you are particularly waving at. It’s Fred Weasley as it turns out, you recognize the certain strides with every step taken towards you that differs him from George. As he nears you, there’s an assurance that it’s certainly Fred with the sight of a mark on the bridge of his nose—an indicator and a technique to tell the twins apart you used when you were younger.

Fred halts by the empty seat diagonally to your left, hands shoved in the pockets.

“I have never seen you here at this hour—are you okay?” Fred cuts himself short, brows turning into a frown when he notices the unusual mess in your hair. If he knows you any better, well-kept and neat hair was all you cared about after the number of times you have furiously whined about the frizz in your hair during the summertime.

It isn’t summer now, well into the end of November. The days are colder and he remembers how your hair would especially shine in the gloom of Autumn.

“Not really.” is all you manage to say before taking the hundredth swig from your nearly empty butterbeer. You inspect the mug with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. “I swear this was full the last time I looked...”

Before you know it, he’s snatching the mug away from you, dragging it across the table as he settles into the empty chair. He stares at you with a beckoning brow, expression mixed with disappointment, disapproval, and worry.

“Hey! That’s my butterbeer, Weasley!” you whine, trying to reach for it but Fred pushes it further, hand securing around it. Without hesitation, you smack him in the arm. “Stop being a complete arse, Fred. What are you even doing here and where’s George anyway?”

Fred winces in pretense pain, dramatically rubbing the side of his arm as he tries to suppress his laughter from your sudden burst of violence. “George is back at the shop going over numbers and as far as I’m concerned, I can be anywhere I want to be. You clearly had too much to drink.”

“But it's butterbeer!”

“That is exactly my point.”

You let out a huff, leaning into your seat and running your fingers through your hair. After a moment’s silence with Fred still staring you down in the effort of getting you to talk, you finally give in. He knows you too well for you to hide anything from him.

“Walter and I broke it off.”

Fred blinks, trying to hide his wide-eyed gaze. “For good?”

You finally turn to him, nodding slowly. “For good.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice is soft when in reality he’s trying to hide his relief in hearing that things between you and Walter have finally come to a resolution because falling in and out of a relationship was driving you mad. He cares for you and always has since the very beginning and a part of him wishes for those feelings of infatuation between two melancholic teenagers will emerge back from what he assumed was already dead.

He watches you lean your head back onto your palm, seemingly sinking deeper towards the table as you try to wrap your head around the situation to form proper words with your lips. “You know what’s the worst part of it all?” Fred shakes his head, eyes never breaking contact with your own. “I don’t even feel that sad about it. Like all those years were...nothing.” Your laugh comes out as a puff of air. It’s cynical rather than finding the humor in it. For the first time, he doesn’t laugh when you do.

Another beat of silence and Fred is contemplating whether his next words that beg to be freed from his mind are appropriate in a time like this. Although he knows how he tends to speak his mind without thinking of the consequences, he knows to tread lightly around you from the times when his words nearly tore your friendship apart.

Still, he knows to be honest with you.

Through the chatter of the crowd at the Leaky Cauldron whilst a few men by the other corner of the pub begin to break into singing a drinking song, Fred’s voice comes off as a whisper, barely audible. “You don’t love him, don’t you?”

Your gaze had initially drifted to the bunch of rowdy men, rendering verses about magical whisky and beer. Yet, they now return to hold a certain ginger’s gaze. You want to be offended by his question because of how it supposedly hurts the raw wound of feeling sorry for yourself. Your love life hasn’t been the best and your tendency to jump to your own defense about it is a clear note to everyone that it simply shouldn’t be questioned.

But it’s Fred. The one who has constantly looked out for you when other boys and men seem to take advantage of your hopeless romantic side. The one who would pull a prank on George just to see you smile. The one who ended up taking you to the Yule Ball as his date because Walter, at the time, rejected you like you were nothing. You should have known that it was never meant to be.

You know to be honest with Fred Weasley.

“I don’t think I ever did.”

He doesn’t say anything, wanting to listen as he waits for you to conceive the proper words to finally speak your mind. It is clear you want to let it out and let off of the burden that has trapped you under its knees, constantly looming over your shoulders and causing dread and fear of losing so much in such a short time. The band of merry men as the whole pub begins to join the group in singing about the joys of alcohol, life, and love in the tune of a traditional Scottish muggle song.

You wonder how can these people be so happy in a time of an impending war. Maybe, it's temporary, meant to drown the hurt and sorrows for tonight and when morning comes, they'll return to opening the stitches of their wounds. When morning comes, you will either wake up at this very table or in an empty bed. Either way, you’ll be alone.

Now, all you want to do is get all your worries and troubles off your chest, not wanting to feel so empty and suffocated. “Love,” you pause, inhaling deeply. ”Love is supposed to be good and pure and beautiful. Love was what I thought I had and right now, I don’t know what to make of it, Fred...I thought I was going to marry him someday.” You find yourself sighing once more, already feeling the lightness in your chest. Running your fingers along your cheek, you close your eyes to help yourself focus through your rapid thoughts and your dazed mind. “Everything is going wrong. I hate my job. I hate my bed. I’m drunk on butterbeer for Merlin’s sake. I feel so, so alone—”

“Ah, and that’s where you are wrong.”

Your eyes are open now, narrowed from adjusting to the sudden brightness of the candlelit place. They drift to Fred who seems very content. He then places his hand on yours and you realize you had been fiddling with your fingers for the last minute. His hand is warm on yours and the heat gradually travels to your chest, heartbeat now slightly picking up in speed. If you listen close enough, you would be able to hear it.

“You are never alone. Not when I’m around and you know I will always be around.”

His words tug at the side of your lips, now widening into a faint smile. It’s small but it’s the kind that reaches your eyes and raises your cheeks. “Thank you, Freddie.”

Then, you watch him abruptly come to a stand, chair screeching. He tugs on the lapels of his coat, adjusting it with the roll of his shoulders. He grabs the back of his chair, and leans forward, towards you. “George and I are visiting the Burrow for the weekend. I’m sure mum won’t mind you staying over.”

You blink, mouth slightly agape at his offer. “I don’t want to trouble anybody—”

“Don’t be silly. Mum loves you more than George and I combined. And she loves us a lot!”

You laugh and it’s genuine this time, knowing how Molly will be always whispering to you about what makes Fred a good husband in the kitchen when you’re washing up the plates and how she will never let you go to bed hungry.

The burrow is like your second home and right now, home is all you want and need.

“Alright, then.”

#happy 1000!#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x you #george weasley x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley #harry potter #harry potter imagine

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raineydays411 · 3 years

Text

Steve Harrington sucks.

Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader

A/N: Yay! My first request done!🎉✨ Please don’t hesitate to request anything, and I hope you enjoy. Sorry it tooks so long, I just started school.

Summary: (Y/n) Henderson has been through some shit in her 17 years. Her father leaving, an overprotective mother, bullies, interdimensional monsters, government conspiracies, etc. Needless to say her life was constantly changing. There was one thing that will always remain the same though. And that was the hatred she has for the one and only Steve Harrington.

Request from anon.

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Steve have never seen eye to eye. You haven’t for a very long time. You two used to be best friends, but that was a long time ago. Before high school and cliques mattered, and before Steve was known as “King Steve.” But once you two entered freshman year, Steves popularity rose and you were left behind.

Even though you and Steve no longer associated with each other, that didn’t stop you two from fighting any chance you got.

You two argued about everything. If you said the sky is blue, Steve would argue that its actually purple. No kidding, he actually made the argument that the sky was purple. Needless to say, you two hated each other.

“Steve, I swear if you don’t move your feet I’ll--”

“You’ll what Y/n, please tell me what you’ll do?

“ I’ll take your feet and shove it up you---”

“Can you guys not...”

It was always like this. Ever since Steve started dating Nancy it was like he was always there. And because Nancy was your best friend, you got reacquainted with the King of Hawkins High.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After everything Will with through with the Upside down and El, you were relieved that it was over. You could go back to your normal life of being a big sister and being top of the class. But then your brother started acting weird.

It started on Halloween, he came home and was holding his ghost trap thing from Ghostbusters weirdly. You thought it was a rat or something at first but something seemed off.

Then Mews went missing. Mews was given to you on your thirteenth birthday, so loosing her was devastating to you. You still had faith that she just ran out and was lost somewhere in the woods. You spent hours looking for her but no dice so far. You were in your room when your mom called you from the kitchen.

“Yeah?!” you shouted, finishing up some missing flyers for Mews.

“Can you go find Dusty for me? It’s getting dark outside.” After the incident with Will and Barb, the parents became a lot more wary when it came to being out after dark.

Rolling your eyes, you get up from your small desk and walk out to the kitchen where your mom is. As you get closer, you smell the weird concoction your mother is making on the stove. Your mom wasn’t the best cook.

“Did he mention where he was going?” you ask, scrunching up your face at the sight of the...stew??

“He mentioned something about Lucas and a code red?? Whatever that means.”

“Code red?” you ask, you weren’t too nervous because code red could mean anything. and Dustin tends to be over dramatic. But still, a small voice in the back of your head is warning you.

“I’m not too sure dear. Would you like to have a taste before you leave?” aaand that was your cue to leave. You start rushing to the door

“Sorry mom! I better go find Dustin before it gets to late.”

You start to make your way down the road when a flash of red catches your eye, you walk towards it . You realize its just some pieces of meat. Then you see what looks like a trail. Leading from your basement to the woods. A bad feeling settles in your stomach, and before you go in the woods, you get a hockey stick that you wrapped with barb wire a few months ago just incase.

Then you follow the trail of meat into the woods.

You follow the trail till it leads you to the junkyard. By the time you got there it was already dark and surprisingly foggy.

“Dustin?!!” You shout, seeing the pile of meat stopping. You step over it as you walk around shouting for your brother.

“Hello!!? Dustin this isn’t funny, moms worried about you.”

And that's when you heard it. A low growling sound. Right behind you.

“Y/N!! WATCH OUT”

You spin around to see what looked like a demogorgon, but on all fours like a dog. And it was slowly walking towards you. Growling as it stepped closer and closer. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you tighten your grip on the hockey stick. Adrenaline rushing through your body. Your senses heightened as you focused on the creature in front of you. You lowered your body into a crouch to prepare for an attack. You slowly backed away slowly as it stalked toward you. You heard what sounded like Lucas or Dustin tell you to run but you knew if you turned around, that thing would pounce on you and you’d be dead. And if you died, what would happen to your brother? To Lucas?

Then the demodog lunged at you. The muscles in its leg tightened as it jumped toward you. You held your breath as you swung the stick with all your might, hitting the monster in mid air. It yelped as its body was flung sideways. It layed there for a moment them leaped up on all fours again, You backed away but never took your eyes off it.

“Holy shit what is she doing” a girl??

“YEAH THATS MY SISTER!” Dustin

“Y/N THREE O’CLOCK! THREE O’CLOCK!” shit.

You can see another figure moving in your peripheral vison. Another one. You position your body so your able to see both dogs at the same time, but then you hear chirping and growling from all ends. You were being surrounded.

“STEVE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Then, Steve Harrington runs out of a broke down bus, bat in hand as he settles up behind you.

“What the hell are you doing here Harrington?”

“Saving your ass Henderson, what does it look like?”

“I had this under control”

“Oh yeah, being surrounded definitely screams under control.”

You aren’t given a chance to respond as another demodog leaps at you and Steve, forcing you to swing out and hit it again straight in the head. Another dog leaps at Steve, and he manages to hit it with the bat.

“We’re going to die if we stay here” you say assessing the situation.

“ No shit sherlock.”

“Shut up and listen” You shout. “you run back to the bus. You need to protect the kids. I’m going to distract these fuckers. When I say the word, you open the bus door and let me in. These things hunt in packs, so they won’t chase both of us if I run first.”

“Henderson thats--” You don’t hear the rest as you dash from the spot. As predicted the dogs chase you and don’t pay no mind to Steve. You can see Steve reluctantly run back to the bus as you take a lap around the junkyard. You have to hit some more dogs but you manage to get back where you were.

Then you were tackled. Dropping your stick you scream in pain as the demodog digs it claws in your shoulder. You struggled to get your stick as the other dogs get closer and the one on top of you is lowering its flower mouth to your throat.

“Y/N” you hear your brother scream desperately. You find the strength to kick the dog off of you and launch yourself off the ground. You scoop up the hockey stick and swat the other dog that was in your way as you sprint towards the bus.

“NOW STEVE LET ME IN” You screech as you near the bus. The doors slide open as hands wrap around your arms and pull you in.

You lay there for a few seconds breathless. Muscles burning and ears ringing. You ignore the kids talking over each other and Dutsin fretting over you. You just breath, feeling a bit safer than you did outside. Then something rams into the side of the bus. The kids start screaming and Steve shouts something. You gather your strength once more and stand up, your body screaming at you. You see those demon dogs are trying to get in through the roof. You watch Steve start fighting them as you push the kids behind you. You step forward to help when suddenly they stop. Then they all run away and its quiet. After a few moments you feel weak and slump to the floor.

“Woah woah, Henderson” Steve surges forward and grabs you by the shoulders, you hiss in pain as he grabs the wound, “Shit, this is bad”

“Bad? What do you mean bad? How bad??” Dustin questions, his eyes watering at the thought of loosing his sister.

“I’m fine Dusty.” You say standing up. “ It probably just needs a cleaning and some stitches that all.”

‘You look like you should be an extra in a WW2 documentary.” Steve deadpans. “You should go home.”

You roll your eyes “ Oh like YOU would know what that would look like, you don’t even show up to history class.”

“ That's not the point Henderson, your arm is about to fall off.”

“I am not leaving these kids here defenseless.” you say crossing your arms, but wince as you do.

“First of all they have me, and second of all, you can’t even move your arm! You’d be in the way.”

“ I’m sorry but who was the one that distracted those things? Who came up with that plan to get you back in the bus??” you say, annoyed at the accusation of being useless.

“she has a point” muttered Lucas, earning him a smack in the arm by Max and a glare from Steve.

“Listen Harrington” You say poking him in the chest. “ I’m fine, im not going anywhere, and I can kick your ass even with my arm fucked up. Now we’re going to get out of this FUCKING bus and figure out what the fuck is going on. AM I CLEAR?”

A shocked silence settles in the bus. Lucas and Dustin chuckled and Max smirked in admiration. Steve glared at you, simply saying “Crystal” and turned around marching off the bus. You roll your eyes as Lucas and Max get off as well, leaving only you and your brother.

“That was really badass. The way you fought those demodogs back there.” Dustin said looking up at you.

You smile and ruffle his hair.

“ I wasn’t going to let them get my Dusty Bun” You say in a baby tone pulling him in for a hug. He groans at the name but hugs you back.

“HENDERSONS MOVE YOUR ASSES” Steve shouts. You roll your eyes and nudge Dustin towards the door.

“Come on, before King Steve blows a gasket”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You find out that Dart killed Mews and are absolutely devastated. Dustin felt guilty as he was basically the reason why your beloved cat died.

“It’s fine Dustin, now I have even more of a reason to kick their doggy ass.”

You walk ahead of the group seething in anger and fear. Your arm was still sluggishly bleeding and throbbing in pain.

“You really should do something about that shoulder” Steve said as he walks up next to you.

“Sure, let me just stop at the hospital while my brother and his friends chase flesh eating dogs from another dimension.” you reply in an sarcastic tone.

“I’m just trying to help.” Steve says in a soft tione

You roll your eyes and mutter a fine. You then rip a strip of fabric from the bottom of your shirt and wrap it around your shoulder.

‘There are you happy now?”you ask

Steve is stunned, he never realized how...tough you are.In fact this whole experience has made him realize how smart and resilient you’ve become. Far different from the shy quiet girl you used to be when the two of you were friends. He never wanted to stop being your friend, in fact he even harbored a little crush on you but he just got caught up in the popularity and attention. Then he got with Nancy and started seeing you constantly again, only now you hated him. It hurt him in ways he didn’t understand. And while he’ll always love Nancy, he’s starting to realize that maybe he’s starting to fall in love with you too.

You look at him weird, as he just stared at you with this weird look on his face. You walked past him as the entrance to the lab becomes clear.

“Hey guys” You shout. “We’re here.”

Then you hear it. Bone chilling roars fill the air. The lights are out inside the lab and you can hear the screams of the people inside. and then rustling comes from the woods. You push the kids behind you and Steve as you tighten the grip on your weapons.

“Steve?” “Y/n?’

“Nancy?’” “Jonathan?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After finding out El was actually alive and Will’s interrogation, you officially have seen it all. You, Steve, and the rest of the kids stayed in the Byers house while the “A team” went back to the lab. You finally were cleaning your shoulder when you heard the rumble of an engine.

Great Billy Hargrove.

“It’s my brother! If he catches me here he’ll kill me” Max says, he tone laced in fear. You and Steve look at each other, and then Steve walks out to deal with Billy.

“Quick hide and don’t let him see you” you say moving toward the door. You open it in time to see Billy knock Steve down and kick him. You flinch and are just glad that it wasn’t you.

“Oh” Billy coos, “ Are you gonna let me in Princess or am I gonna have to move you?”

“Moving me sounds fun, how about we try that” you flirt back, hey anything to get him to calm down.

He chuckles. “Nice try toots but I got a bone to pick with my step sister.” And with that she shoves you out of the way. You realize that you can’t fight Billy off alone, so you run to help Steve.

“Come on Harrington, up you go” You try and help him up. You hear the kids shouting and some stuff smashing. “Come on Steve, he’s on there with the kids.” You say urgently.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Steve says, finally getting up. You and Steve rush into the house to see Billy holding Lucas up against a shelf. Steve then rushes to the two, as you go to the kids making sure they’re behind you.

“YOU’RE DEAD SINCLAIR, SO DEAD”

“No, you are” and with that Steve punches Billy in the face. You pull Lucas away, checking him over to make sure he’s alright. The kids are cheering Steve on as he beats Billy.

“KICK HIS ASS STEVE”

Then the tables turn. Billy smashes a plate over Steves head, knocking him down and punching him in the face. They get into the living room and Billy isn’t stopping. He’s punching Steve in the face continuously.

“STOP YOU’RE GONNA KILL HIM” Dustin screams

“BILLY NO”

You rush forward and try to pull him off. “Billy thats enough, he’s already down!” he just pushes you to the ground and resumes his beating. You get up, desperate to help Steve.

“Y/n!” You hear Max yell. You look at her and she hands you something.

Will’s morphine.

Without a second thought you ripped the cap off the needle and injected the drug in Billy’s neck. He flinched and stood up, giving poor Steve a break from his brutal beating.

“youbitchwhatdidyoudo” He slurred as he pulled the needle from his neck. He then fell on his back, half unconscious. Max, surprising you all, took Steves bat and yelled.

“From now on you leave me and my friends alone, you understand?!”

“Screw you.”

She brought down the bat between his legs. Your eyes widened as she slammed the nail covered bat on the floor between them.

“SAY YOU UNDERSTAND. SAY IT! SAY IT!”

“I understand” Billy finally whispered as the drugs took over. After watching that you ran over to Steve. You checked his pulse just to make sure he was alright.

“Alright Harrington, get up” You said. “Come on Steve.”

“Y/n, we don’t have time.” Mike said. “We have to help El.”

“How are you even going to the tunnels Mike? It’s too far to walk.” You say as you put Steve's head on your lap.

Max then walks up to Billy and pulls his keys out of his jacket. “Y/n can drive us.” she says. Then the whole party laughs. “What? What's so funny?”

“Y/n can’t drive us” Dustin said laughing. You glare at him from your spot.

“Why not?” Max asks.

“Because” Mike replies, “ She failed like three of her drivings tests”

“Yeah, unless you want to hit every mail box on the way and get whiplash, y/n is out” Lucas chimed in.

“Hey! I was not that bad” you yelled incredulously. “ Besides what would we do with Steve?”

“Leave him here?” Mike said

“With Billy?” You asked

“Yeah we could just tie Billy up or something”

“We are not leaving Steve” Dustin said. “He’ll be chill when he wakes up, I promise.”

“We still can’t go” you say. The group groans

“Why not” Mike says

“Because, I can’t drive you.” You reply. Then Max ‘s face brightens

“I can drive.” She says

Suddenly, you’re in the backseat of Billy's stolen car, Steve sprawled across yours, Mikes, and Dustin's lap as Max drives erratically to the field.

And then Steve wakes up.

“y/n??” He mutters looking at Mike, Mike gives him the side eye as Dustin starts talking.

“Hey buddy” Dustin says “ He kicked your ass but you put up a good fight”

“Dustin!” you shout

“What?”

‘Oh god” Steve says realizing what was happening “ Oh my god stop the car!!”

“Steve I promised them you’d be cool if we brought you”

“oh god

“Make a left here” “you’re okay”

“Steve relax she’s driven before”

“yeah in a parking lot””That counts!”

“Stop yelling!”

“Stop the car, stop the car” Max takes a sharp turn

“WOAHH” “STOPTHE CAR”

“Steve calm down” “I told you we should have left him!’“

“AHH SLOW DOWN” “CALM DOWN”

“EVERYBODY SHUT UP! I’M TRYING TO FOCUS”

Max hits the breaks as she makes to to the field. You all stumble out of the car and head to the trunk, getting ready to head into the tunnels. As you’re putting on your mask and goggles Steve stumbles to the back of the car yelling,

“HELLO! Do you guys hear me, we are not going down there!”

“Y/n how could you let them talk you into his” “ARE YOU DEAF? HELLO?

“WE ARE NOT---”

“STEVE!” Dustin shouted, “The fact of the matter is that a party member needs our assistance. We can’t just abandon her.”

“...fine” Steve says, and he puts on the bandana and goggles. You walk up to him and hand him his bat. “ Wow Harrington, you’ve never looked better”

“Ha ha, get in the hole”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After struggling to get into the hole, you finally made it into the tunnels. It was dark and damp in there. Cold as you and the party walked further and further into what could be your doom. Specks of...something floated in the air and the walls were covered in what looked like vines. Steve was at the from of the line while you were at the end.Making sure both ends were covered and there wasn’t any chance at a sneak attack.

You stood at the back with Dustin as he kneeled down to tie his shoe and then a flurry of that white shit sprayed in his face. He started freaking out immediatly, screming and spitting

“SHIIT! ITS IN MY MOUTH!”

Steve ran over to him and started asking whats wrong. Seeing Steve so worried about your brother warmed your heart, especially because it’s been so long that Dustin had a male figure who cared about him in his life. Now that you think about it, Steve has been really protective over Dustin these past few days, in fact he--

“Hey Y/n, are you okay” Steve says, interrupting your thought.

You look at him and nod, “We should keep going”

He nods and take his place back in the front. The group only had to walk a few more steps till they reached the hub,

“Let’s torch it” Steve said as he stepped forward. The kids spread out, pouring gasoline on every inch of the cavern. After you were done, Steve pulled out his lighter and flicked it on.

“You ready?” He said. You all nodded and prepared to run for your life. Steve threw the lighter and the whole hub was lit. The everyone ran. Mike got caught as a vine wrapped around his leg. Steve struggled to it get off when you came around.

“Stand back!” you yelled and swung you hockey stick down on the vine a couple times. This cut it in half as you heard it..squeal?? You then helped Mike up and urged him to start running. You were almost back to the hole when you were stopped.

A demodog stood in the way of your freedom. Hunched low and growling as it wait for you to make your move. Thats when Dustin spoke up.

“Dart” “Shh Dustin get behind me” You shushed him, trying to pull him away from the creature but with no luck. He slowly walked toward iy.

“Dustin what are you doing?””Get away from it” the rest of the group whispered as he pulled a candy bar from his pocket.

“yumm nougat” He said, breaking the candy bar into pieces and fed them to the demon dog. ‘There you go buddy, eat up” He then waved to you.

“hurry up go” He said still crouched down. Carefully, each member of the party passed by. Creeping passed the demodog who paid no attention.

“Bye buddy” Dustin whispered as you and Steve pulled him away.

You finally got to the hole. You and Steve helped each of the kids up the rope. Rushing as you heard the rest of the demodogs running to find you. You finally got Dustin up the rope when you saw them. The pack of demodogs running full speed toward you and Steve. There was no time for either of you to get up the rope. Steve pulled you into his chest as the pack drew nearer. You tensed up, waiting to get torn apart by these creatures.

“Y/N! STEVE” Dustin cried, being held back by Mike and Lucas.

The closer they got the harder it was for you to breath. You closed your eyes and dug your face into Steves chest.

They ran past you. The demodogs run right passed you and Steve as if you weren’t there. You feel them run past your legs, bumping into you as they are called somewhere else.

You sigh in relief . You look around the cavern, realizing you’re not dead. Steve laughs a breathless laugh as you smile, the threat of death gone. You realize that you’re still pressed up against him, and look up. Staring into the brown eyes of the one and only Steve Harrington. His goggles pulled up against his forehead and his bandana around his neck.

You don’t know if the adrenaline or you not giving a fuck, but you fling off your safety glasses, pull down your bandana ans surge up.

Capturing Steve’s lips in a kiss.

He makes a little ‘oomph” sound in surprise as he realizes what's happening. But then he relaxes and kisses you back, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your hands go into his hair as you wrap your arms around his neck, prompting him to lean closer. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip and you begin to let it in when--

“OH GOD, REALLY?”

Dustin. “GUYS THEY'RE MAKING OUT’”

“Ewww, come on do you really gotta do that here” Lucas complains.

“Yeah! we don’t wanna see that” Mike says, frowning in disgust.

“Come on’ Max says, pulling Dustin and Lucas by the collar of their shirts. Mike following behind them.

You pull away from Steve, giggling as you see the awe struck face he's making.

“Come on King Steve” You say, starting to crawl up the rope. “Before Max starts joy riding and leaves us here. He shakes his head as he watches you get to the top and starts climbing.

“Hold your horses Henderson, I’m coming.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #reader insert #stranger things x reader #fanfic #steve headcanon #netflix #enemies to friends to lovers #adventure #d&d campaign

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slutsofren · 3 years

Text

Danger Days Chapter 8: Save Yourself, I’ll Hold Them Back

summary: finding shelter in an abandoned home, you try to keep your wits about you and care for the still unconscious Joel until some trouble comes knocking

word count: 3,792

content warnings: mention of gore and impromptu medical care, more canon-typical violence, death, murder, arrival of.... cannibals, y'know the deal hurt/comfort

notes: i didn't mention it last time but yeah, your shit really can kill you if you get your lower intestines punctured lol it's a real thing and gnarly af

read on ao3 / masterlist

You woke up in a start. Heavy breaths taking hold in your lungs. The small, barely considerable amounts of sleep were getting to you as they had been for the last month as more and more night terrors racked your brain. Rubbing at your eyes, you pushed yourself up to begin your usual routine.

It had been a couple weeks since your little group found yet another abandoned home and it took some hell of maneuvering to get Joel into the basement but it worked. The winter snow was coming in full force and it was peritive you all kept Joel as warm as possible, there were too many odds stacked against him.

Walking over to his prone body, you checked on his wounds once more as you did practically every couple of hours. He was looking worse for wear, even changing out the gauze could only do so much. Whatever small amounts of clean water the three of you had went to cleaning it out, hoping to stave off the infection.

Joel was, by all means, not doing well.

To top it off, even with your meager amount of medic training from your days with FEDRA could never prepare you for the long-term haul you were in with Joel, he was dying. The bastard was dying and you couldn’t help but feel it was your fault.

Night after night you were haunted by the image of him falling off that balcony, the sounds of his groans of pain still lingered in your head even when you were awake. It fucking sucked.

He was asleep now, he barely woke up since everything went to shit at the university then at the mall. That in and of itself felt like a lifetime ago. You put a hand against his forehead, feeling how his fever still hadn’t broken. With the chill in the air as winter was fully settling in making your fingers cold as ice, he didn’t even flinch away. You closed your eyes and sighed, still not wanting to give up. Not for Ellie, not for Tommy, not even for the grumpy man himself.

A quick glance out the small basement window told you it was nearing dusk which startled you. Ellie had left when the sun was at its peak, sometime around noon, surely. She had been gone much much longer than she normally would have.

Usually it was you who left to go hunting for food once your supplies dwindled but Ellie wanted to help relieve the burden from your shoulders and you reluctantly agreed. Yo hated to admit you needed a break. She had argued she wanted to get better with her bow and arrow and she certainly did, often bringing back animals of various sizes. It was her way of coping with potentially losing Joel, something she confided in you that was one of her biggest fears.

Thoughts of Ellie swirled your mind and you paced back and forth, chewing at your fingernails. A nasty habit you suppressed most days. A part of you wanted to go find the girl, follow Callus’ tracks in the snow. Another part of you didn’t want to leave Joel by himself.

Fuck, you thought.

Compartmentalizing you figured if she didn’t return within an hour, you’d go looking for her. If you couldn’t locate her within a mile radius, a strict rule you enforced her limited hunting zone to, you’d hunker down with Joel and wait until morning to find her and scold her for being irresponsible.

You stopped your pacing to look at Joel’s face, seeing how his face was still warped in the painful scowl he hadn’t let go of. His features were beginning to slowly become gaunt as the small amounts of food you’d been able to get him to eat the rare times a day he’d wake were coming far and few in between. Even his usual tan skin was slowly softening to a cooler shade of bronze. He looked like death.

Joel, by all means, was a handsome cowboy. Even with his patchy beard that was littered with grey hair in a few spots. Now he just looked like a ghost of himself.

Okay, fine, you admit to yourself. With Joel down, you’ve kind of missed the fool. You missed the banter and arguing with him about stupid shit. He irritated the daylights out of you because he always wanted to jump headfirst into things without a care for his safety clearly but dammit, the lack of his presence was palpable. You hated it.

You sat beside Joel, removing one of his hands from under the blanket to hold. His hands still rough and calloused, mirrors of yours if you weren’t missing a finger. Once upon a time, you remembered hearing that coma patients could sometimes hear what people said to them, that it helped. Maybe talking to him now would help not just him but you as well, to keep your mind occupied. Maybe pass the time a little. Maybe.

“Hey, it’s me, you grumpy bastard,” you started off lightly. “I don’t know if you can tell but you’ve been puttin’ that girl and I through hell and back trying to keep your ass alive.”

A hollow laugh escapes you, feeling a little more choked up than you’d ever dare to admit. Composing yourself you tried to use playful banter. “How do you do it, cowboy? Ellie is a goddamned handful. Shit, I thought I was bad when I was a teenager,” you sniff, feeling your voice waver.

“When I first laid eyes on you two, I think it would have saved me a whole lotta trouble and pain if Maria let me shoot you,” you sigh dramatically. Even though there was a smile on your lips, it didn’t reach your eyes. What did were the tears that were slowly forming. The added stress of Ellie being missing was really wearing you thin.

Amongst other things.

“Y’know,” you sniffled, “you really hurt my feelings back at the university. When you thought I led the two of you into a trap.” You took a sharp inhale. “As much shit as you and I put each other through, that was the one thing that stung. More than anything.”

You squeezed his hand and sighed, closing your eyes. Admitting that was hard, stars know you’d never say that to Joel while he was conscious nor in front of Ellie.

“Don’t die, you asshole,” you begged softly, wiping away the light tears that coated your lashes, reluctantly letting go of Joel’s hand as you tucked the blanket around him tightly.

After you said your piece, your mind became overrun with the little turd you grew fond of. The more you began to worry about Ellie, the more your thoughts swirled rapidly into worst case scenarios.

Before you worked yourself into a much deeper frenzy, a loud metallic bang echoed from upstairs. You ran up the steps and came face to face with Ellie, looking just as frantic. She raised her hand and in it, a tied white rabbit, so white it was nearly silver in the dim lighting. “I got food,” she said breathlessly.

“And,” she shoved you aside and took off to the basement, “I got this. Can it help?”

Ellie reached into her pocket and pulled out a syringe and orange bottle, she handed it to you while kneeling next to Joel as he shifted in his sleep. You were still rather shocked to see Ellie who looked faintly bloodied and tired, before you could comment on the new rifle on her shoulder, you took the bottle and were damn near milliseconds from riding into her until you read the faded label of the glass container.

Penicillin.

“Where the fuck did you get this, Ellie?”

Without waiting for her to answer, you dug in your pack and pulled out some disinfectant alcohol and a gauze pad to clean the syringe and a spot on Joel’s arm. Ellie refused to look up from where she kept her gaze focused on Joel’s face, “‘s not important.”

“If I wasn’t so mad at you right now, I’d kiss you.”

Throwing away all the questions you had for her, you administered the antibiotic as quickly as you could, he sighed as the medicine entered his body. Although, it was likely you were giving him too much, truthfully, you didn’t think it would hurt him worse than he already was.

As he relaxed underneath your hands, you looked down at his wound one last time for the evening. The haphazard stitches were taut on his stomach where the swelling was, hopefully by morning, he’d be better.

You didn’t look up from Joel as you laid into Ellie, “I don’t want excuses about where you were, only that you promise me to be more careful in the future, please.”

“Ye- yeah, I promise.”

“Good,” you covered Joel back up, “Now go get some rest. I’ll take care of the rabbit and wake you when it’s done.”

You turned your back to Ellie, it wasn’t that you wanted her to feel bad for her little disappearing act. You just needed some space to gather your thoughts. Between being Joel’s caretaker, Ellie’s temporary guardian, and keeping yourself sane, you were a wreck. You needed a moment.

Before you took a step on the stairs you paused. “Good work on getting the medicine, kiddo. Joel would be proud of you too.”

She didn’t respond as you walked away, the implication that although you were upset with her, you were still proud lingered in the air. Mindlessly, you focused on the rabbit, doing what needs to be done to cook it for dinner, pushing away those lingering worries. Ellie was safe, you reminded yourself, she came back.

It didn’t take you long to finish with your meager dinner, still pretty damn proud of Ellie’s evolving hunting skills. Maybe you’d offer to teach her a couple snares in the morning to leave out overnight. Although they tended not to gain anything bigger than a rabbit or a squirrel, something was better than nothing and you’d figure it would help Ellie focus on something other than Joel’s condition.

You bounded down the stairs, bringing the freshly cooked meat with you. A small shake to her shoulder and she was awake, “Dinner’s ready.”

Ellie didn’t bring her gaze up to look you in the eye, likely still ashamed. The two of you still sat in silence eating, occasionally looking to Joel for any changes or whenever he shifted in his sleep.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice sounding small.

“I know, Ellie. I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I was just worried.”

Once again, the silence encompassed you both like a blanket, warmer now than it was before. You broke it first, “I was thinking about teaching you a couple snares in the morning. How does that sound?”

Ellie wiped the grease from her fingers on her jeans and looked up, “I think I’d like that.”

Just like that, the two of you were on even footing. It didn’t feel right to be mad at each other, not when Joel wasn’t there to diffuse. Either way, it was much like when you were the one in between their own fight that day you’d met them, it wasn’t healthy when you all had to rely on each other for survival. At least with Ellie, she was quick to forgive and forget in the face of the larger picture. A quality you kind of admired in the young woman.

Both of you finished with your portions of the meat, saving the rest for the morning or for Joel if he wakes in the night. Simultaneously you shuffled through the remaining ammo together, doling out some spare bullets to Ellie for her shiny new rifle, still not going to ask how she acquired it. Let her have her space.

She took the bullets graciously, reloading her sidearm and long range weapons and placing them in her backpack before getting ready for sleep. You stayed fiddling with your own weapons for a few moments longer before calling it quits too.

You laid down on the opposite side of Joel, biting your lip and hoping for the best. You tossed and turned, not knowing if you could take facing Joel’s sickly frame but you also couldn’t turn your back on him and Ellie who laid on her backpack on his other side.

Please, you wished, let the medicine take.

These kinds of wishes filled your mind until you slowly drifted to a fitful night’s sleep.

By morning, you happened to find yourself shaken awake with Ellie’s face close to yours, “Wake up, I need you awake!”

You jumped up, onto your knees. “What is it,” you ask startled, afraid Joel was worse than he was when you fell asleep. Looking at Joel, he didn’t look like he deteriorated in the night, but he also didn’t look like he improved any.

“I was tracked,” she says as if that explains anything. Both of you have your hands on each other's arms in a failed attempt at communicating the other’s panic.

“What do you mean ‘tracked’, Ellie?”

“Those people I got the medicine from, David and-and James, they fucking tracked me!”

“Ellie, what the fu-.”

“Look, listen, I’m gonna draw them away. Keep an eye on Joel,” she tells you in a rush, letting go of you and bolting up the stairs, grabbing her backpack on the way out.

“Fuck,” you practically shout while getting up and looking out the window. Outside you see silhouettes of a few men, searching the nearby area. Frustrated, you kick the washing machine.

Shit, shit, shit.

You don’t know what to do, you feel tied down once again because of Joel’s condition and Ellie’s neverending saviour complex. You mumble out a few more expletives at this situation just as you see the girl bound down the street on Callus shouting for the intruder’s attention. As she rides away, you hear bullets being shot at her, getting further and further away from you.

You carelessly threw your denim coat on and opted to grab your knives instead of guns, hoping to kill anybody who came close without alerting the others. Out the basement window, you could see a few of the men still lurking about, choosing not to follow Ellie.

Just before you followed Ellie out of the house, you doubled back to Joel, kneeling forward and giving him a kiss on the forehead. “We’ll come back, I promise you Joel. Just please, don’t die on me now.” Another kiss on his warm skin and you left without stopping, barricading the basement door as if it was left unoccupied.

Everything in you wanted to panic, your muscles were screaming to fold in on yourself and heave what little food remained in your stomach but you couldn’t give in. Not when Ellie was in danger. She may have been a pain in the ass, but she was your pain in the ass.

After your conversation last night, you’d be damned if anybody hurts your girl.

Taking a deep breath, you shook your worries free and cleared your mind. Although you were a field medic by title with FEDRA back in the day, working with them turned you into a killer. It was a toxic mindset for you, even when you had joined the Fireflies, they took advantage of your ability to focus on one thing and one thing only, turning it into their own game - death.

It took years to shake off that blank emotionless part of you, even Tommy was afraid of it when he saw the horrendous things you were capable of, what the Fireflies exploited from you, but Tommy wasn’t here and the people you loved were hanging on by a thread.

It was easy to see the outlines of the few straggling men who searched the nearby homes, whatever Ellie did really pissed them off. Now, these people only pissed you off.

You stayed lurking within the shadows of the homes, even with the sun just getting ready to set, it wasn’t too difficult to stay hidden. Especially to those who weren’t familiar with the layout. It was easy to spot how the few men tended to remain within a handful of yards together, opting not to venture out into the buildings alone. Alert and yet unorganized as you could see how they would often turn their backs on each other, giving you such a delicious opportunity to sneak in and out, weaving through them and taking them down one by one.

Was it absolutely horrible this was your instinct? Maybe. But you had two people you wanted to protect, two absolutely annoying yet selfless humans who gave you hope. You did love Joel and Ellie, even if you hadn’t admitted to it yet. Besides, you had a whole lot of stress burdening your shoulders and you wanna hit something.

You watched as the small group approached one of the homes off to the left, allowing you ample room to get close without having to cross the street in the open. You took off running, not bothering to try and conceal your footprints in the snow as you got to the house besides the targets. You entered through a broken window - a common for every single house on this block. Taking lighter footsteps, you ducked by the windows and reached the second floor landing.

The homes in this area were built within close proximity to the others, making it easy for, say, somebody needing to jump between windows without being seen. Perfect.

You listened hard and close as the men shuffled and tossed things around the first floor, looking for any sign of Ellie and ‘those two people she was with’. You growled lowly, really hating the implication that these people knew about the three of you.

Taking another assessment, you noticed there were two men standing guard out the front of the house, idly walking to-and-fro, their conversation remaining on wishing they were chasing Ellie instead.

A deep breath in and you jumped with an ‘oof’, trying to make as little as noise as possible, aiming for a wide open window with a snow covered bed on the other side. Between the snow and the mattress, the noise was cushioned to only a small thud, thankfully concealed by the thuds of the men downstairs shuffling through rooms. You quickly got up and went to the doorframe and saw there was only a hallway and stairs leading down.

You took deeper breaths again, trying to center yourself for what you were about to do as you heard one person come up the stairs - alone.

Placing your body flush against the wall, you waited in stark concentration, drawing your knife from its sheath. The footsteps came close, nearing the room you were hiding in and just as an armed gunman came in, you rushed him. Putting one hand against their forehead, you pulled the other hand and dragged the knife into their throat, essentially cutting off the person from making a noise and ending their life. You pulled and lowered their body as they began to choke out, laying them on the floor gently against the wall, carelessly hiding the body.

Downstairs you could still hear shuffling of the other invader and you made your way to them, silently assessing.

From what you could tell, the other person was banging around in the basement. So you rounded a nearby corner to where the open basement door was until finally, finally, somebody came through. You took him down just the same as his buddy.

So unorganized, you thought. If they were really looking for you and Joel, they were doing a piss poor job of it.

You swiped a bottle from the kitchen as you strolled past, taking aim out a broken window. Giving it a nice little toss, it shattered against the other house and without fail, you heard the tell-tale signs of one of the other men asking ‘what was that’. You ducked behind the faded curtain until one of the targets came into view, watching how he was pensive and alert, fortunately he was by himself which made the next part just as easy.

As soon as the man walked by the window, you jumped out from your hiding spot and jabbed your hunting knife straight into the soft squishy part of his eye, surprisingly facing little to no resistance.

You pulled it back and repeated the motion again once the man made an audible noise, probably alerting his friend. In only a slight rush now, you jumped out the window and removed your blade, now stalking towards the front when you could hear the other man yell the other’s names.

Wrapping around the corner of a house in a whirlwind, you surprised the last one when you stood face-to-face with him. He looked at you, astounded, mouth agape and dropped his weapon - a handgun. Looking down at his body, he whimpered as he took in the sight of your knife now buried deep in his stomach as you yanked them up into his chest piercing his heart.

Copper scent filled the air as the hunter’s body gave out. His blood spilling down your front. Under normal circumstances you would’ve likely vomited all over yourself but considering the innate need to protect Ellie and Joel, all that shit is blown out the window.

All in all, maybe thirty minutes have passed, you wanted to check on Joel but the distant gunshots were making you worried. At the very least, the longer they went off, the longer you knew your little fighter was alive.

Okay, think, you tried to get yourself to focus. You came up with a rapid-fire plan and before you could second guess yourself, you ran. Refusing to stop. Each step in the plush snow found you closer and closer to your hideout.

Entering the home through the garage, you gave Whiskey a pat as you walked on by and headed straight for the basement. You pushed the undisturbed barricade from the door, grateful it signaled that Joel was safe. Entering the downtrodden room you grabbed your holsters, strapping them maybe a little more tightly than you should’ve and throwing your backpack over your shoulders. You double-checked your weapons, making sure they were fully loaded.

Once again, you kneeled next to Joel as he laid on the dirty mattress, huffing from the rising pain from the stitch in your side. “Joel? I’m gonna go back out and find Ellie. I’m gonna go get our girl,” you said.

You hoped you were telling the truth.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller x oc #joel tlou x reader #joel tlou x you #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfic #joel tlou reader insert #the last of us reader insert #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #danger days fic #asher's writing

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seekingseven · 3 years

Note

Another drabble request: how does Four find out about Twilight's wolf form?

Linked Universe Prompt Requests #8!

Oh, that's a great question! Here's one possible way it could have gone down...

⚠️CW: Alcohol Mention! ⚠️

(You can also read the fic here on Ao3!)

~~~~~~

Four was not the kind of person who spent his evenings in a places like this, and he knew Twilight and Time weren't either.

Maybe that was why he was so uncomfortable.

Music pulsed through the floor, amplified by the tavern's high ceilings and the patrons' warbling voices. Drinks clinked, beer frothed, and lantern light clotted over polished countertops. Across the room, a red-lipped waitress tossed a red-faced patron a pinched smile, the kind that crinkled at the edges with professional, faux patience, and the man let out a wheedling chuckle. A group of boys howled at each other as glossy cards splashed across their table. Behind the bartop, a tenderfaced bartender dropped a stack of glass mugs, and a nearby group of tipsy women had begun to crackle out the Hylian national anthem.

Four pressed his hands over his eyes and tried to cough out the smell of vomit and rotting sweat. No use. Spirals pulsed at the edges of his vision--he was pressing too hard--and he let his hands slide into his lap. The muscles in his neck tensed as he slipped deeper into Twilight's pocket.

This was not what he had in mind when he had decided to follow Time and Twilight on their "quick, fifteen minute errand." He had been right in deducing it was more than that, of course; reports of local children going missing near a known monster hideout hadn't inspired confidence in Four that grocery shopping was all on the two's minds.

But, a tavern?

To each their own, he supposed, but he couldn't entirely stifle the little flame of disappointment in his chest.

Adrenaline gushed through his throat as the world swung around him; Twilight was moving again. Vibrations thudded through the cloth around him. The overhead lanterns flickered crazily, blocked by Twilight's shoulders one minute and blazing down his backside the next. Four shielded his eyes under his hands and stared at his knees. This whole shrinking thing had been a bad--terrible--idea. He could only hope that Time and Twilight had a lower alcohol tolerance than they appeared to.

The movements stop, and Four sighed as the acid in his throat slipped back down. A booming echoed from overhead, and Four couldn't help but wonder if this is what the Minish had to deal with whenever he came to visit.

"Is Mr.Garto here?"

Four's ears perked up; that was Twilight's voice, and that was the name of the man who had first begun reporting the disappearances. Interest piqued, he righted himself until he as peering just over the small slip of space between the pocket and Twilight's tunic. If he turned just enough, he could catch a glimpse of Time's legs and the mahogany bartop behind them.

"He's not here right now," a voice whispered. The muscles crisscrossing Four's chest cinched. That wasn't the sound of a bored bartender, or a dolled up waitress, that was...

"A child?" Time asked, voice thick with its typical lack of tack. "Where are your parents? A tavern is no place for a boy your age."

Silence--at least, between the three parties. The debauched din around them showed no interest in smothering itself for the sake of dramatic tension.

"My parents work here," the voice replied. It was soft, but there was a bristle underneath it; a boy, Four would bet, and a frightened one at that. "My dad's Mr.Garto. Amerigo Garto. He's out right now. If you have questions, then you can, uh, demect them to me."

"Cute," Twilight murmured, voice lowered so that he was its only listener. Four would have rolled his eyes if he didn't happen to also find the childish mispronunciation endearing.

"Very well then," Time cut in. Whatever spell the boy's subtle stutter had cast on Twilight was lost on him, judging from the clipped words and serious tone. "Please tell your father that we would like to speak to him about the abductions. If he has any information, he's welcome to contact us. Here's the postal address of the inn my teammates and I are staying in."

A shuffle of cloth, and the faint sound of a hand bumping a counter. Four pulled his arms over the pocket and strained his neck to the side. The cloth around him dipped under his weight, threatening to give, and Four flinched so hard that he slipped back inside.

"You're looking for them?" the voice came again. "The lost kids?"

Time chuckled. The paternal sound felt oddly out of place in the drunken supernova around them. "Of course we are. We have an idea of where they might be, so we wanted to get in contact with your father to see if he had any more information."

Twilight leaned forward, letting both his pocket and his pocket-sized stowaway swing along with him. "We'll find them for sure. Don't worry."

"You will? Do you think you can find them? My sister and my puppy, I mean."

"Your sister?" Time asked.

"Your puppy?" Twilight added.

The boy's voice seemed smaller, now, lighter, and it took little imagination to envision the pale faced, blue-eyed seven ear old that was undoubtedly cowering under the others' combined stares. "Yes. They were the first to go missing, sir. Sirs. I hope you can find them. Let...let me know if I can help."

Across the bar, someone threw a bottle of wine against the wall. Glass powdered around the purple stain in the wood. Twilight flinched. A gaggle of teenage laughed in their testosterone-saturated way, unabashedly amused at the adults making spectacles of themselves, and Four stifled the urge to slap all of them.

"We will," Time said. His voice was a breath's distance from inaudible. "Take care, little one. We'll speak to you soon."

A mumble of agreement, muffled, and Four clutched the fabric of Twilight's pocket as the world spun on his heel. Left, right, left; he was swaying with each pull and pinch of movement, and he caught only a heartbeat's glimpse at the boy before Twilight and Time exited the tavern.

He looked exactly as Four had imagined him to.

"That's so sad," Twilight murmured, letting the tavern door close softly behind him. "I hope we find them."

"We will. Hopefully Garto gets in contact with us soon. For now, we'll just need to brief the others and see if there are any other locals who might have more information."

"Yeah, yeah. That sound about right."

This time, the silence was real. Only the sounds of feet squelching against mud and dirt interrupted their thoughts.

Twilight stopped. Four gripped the back of his head and hissed as it bonked against the raised metal of Twilight's scabbard.

"Hold on," the rancher began, "I forgot something back there."

"Forgot? What?"

"...something. I'll be back. Don't wait for me."

"Sure. Try to not stay out to long, though."

Twilight assured he wouldn't, then turned heel. Feet against the floor, night air, cold, and then a flush of heat. The air is stuffy again, and the quiet is gone, and Four is peering precariously between gaps in the pocket stitching. He thumps against the back of Twilight's leg as the rancher makes another sharp turn. It's a wonder that the rancher hasn't grown suspicious of the wiggling in his pocket yet.

But perhaps he was too occupied to grow suspicious, because Twilight slowed to a stop and leaned forward on what Four assumes to be the bartop.

"Is the kid still here?"

A grainy voice responded with a huff and grunt. "No, he went outside. Just through the hallway. Something about wanting to play hopstoch."

"Ah, okay. Thank you."

Another snort. "If you find him, tell him to come back inside. It's too dark to be out alone."

Twilight made a sound that could have been construed to be somewhat affirmative, then hurried out the door. The evening breeze, greased with the steam and sweat spilling from the tavern's backdoor, greeted them again. A clink of metal and the cloth ruffling; Four furrowed his eyebrows. What was Twilight up to?

It was the last cohesive thought he would have for a good minute.

The cotton confines around him popped out of existence. Air rushed against his head and through his air as he fell, weightless, and he had barely processed the fact that Twilight had vanished before he thumped against a tree stump. Dazed but unharmed, he sat up, eyes widening.

In the place where Twilight had stood mere moments ago was a massive grey wolf.

A wolf...

Wolfie?

"Who's there?" someone whispered. A figure on the other side of the backyard inched forward, and Four's throat tightened when he recognized it as the boy from earlier. His eyes were red. Little hopstotch stones dangled between his fingers, shining and unused.

The wolf--Wolfie--barked. The boy flinched, squeezing his elbows to his sides. Wolfie barked again, insistent, and wagged his tail furiously. Blue eyes watched silently as Wolfie rolled on his side, then chased his tail, then made an impressive show of chasing a terrified chipmunk through the yard. Gradually, the boy's eyebrows slipped downwards. Wolfie let out another bark. A whisper of a smile pinched at the boy's mouth.

"Where did you come from, big guy?"

Wolfie barked again, advancing further and, when the boy didn't recoil, butted his head against scabbed knees. The boy laughed again. Wolfie's tail wagged harder.

"You're so big! Who's your owner? They must take really good care of you. And you look really strong, too. Look at these muscles!"

The boy carefully closed a hand around Wolfie's paw, then lifted it upwards. Strength roiled beneath an oily coat, and the boy let out a small gasp of awe.

"Wow! You look even tougher than my sister! Hey, wanna play hopscotch with me? I think you would be good at it."

If Wolfie licking the boy's face wasn't confirmation enough, him hopping towards the dilapidated hopscotch court was. The boy laughed with delight and rubbed Wolfie's snout, giggling harder as the wolf licked a wet strip across his cheek.

"Huh," Four murmured, picking stray wood chips out of his hair and grinning to himself. "Looks like we both have a little secret."

~~ Fine ~~ I hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for reading! [Previous Request] - [Next Request!]

#linkeduniverse #linkeduniverse twilight #linkeduniverse wolfie #minish four #linkeduniverse fanfic #so sorry for the plethora of typos here im just #this fic turned out to be a lot more of a challenge than i thought it would be #haha!#hope you enjoy!#seeking's prompt requests #ope forgot a tag #linkeduniverse four

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greaterawarness · 3 years

Text

501st and 212th Workout

(I wanted to write a story with the clones with more realistic military things. So here's what a PT day looks like in the military.)

It was 0400 by the time Rex made it out to the grinder. It was a brisk morning with dew settled on every surface making goosebumps appear across Rex’s exposed arms and legs. Today was PT for the 501st and the 212th. They usually worked out in the mornings together at minimum three times a week when not on deployment. Rex stands towards the front of the grinder in his PT uniform which entailed a white shirt where Ahsoka had drawn his jaig eyes on his back and blue shorts. He began to rub his arms wishing he had worn the long-sleeved shirt and workout pants.

“Morning!” Cody calls walking onto the grinder in his white shirt and yellow shorts per the 212th PT uniform.

“Fucking cold!” Rex yells back. Cody was one of those anomalies who loved early workouts. Didn’t matter the weather or what type of workout he was always gearing to go. The man hasn’t even had any caf yet, but he wears a big eager smile on his face when he approaches Rex. They’re the first ones out there which is no surprise to either of them. Rex results to hopping up and down to generate some warmth by the time the men start showing up. Kix being the reasonable and smart man he is wears his long-sleeved shirt and long pants while Jesse winces the second he steps outside the way Rex did. Hardcase always wears the long-sleeved shirt and the shorts no matter the weather. They approach Rex and Cody looking more eager to go back to bed then to stand in the grinder waiting to start a workout.

“Morning.” Kix says softly. Jesse says nothing with his shoulders hunched and teeth chattering.

“Morning.” Rex and Cody say chuckling at Hardcase who can barely keep his eyes open. After those three arrive the rest of the men begin pouring out onto the grinder. When Fives and Echo approach Rex, Fives has his hands up rubbing his nipples through his shirt.

“First round at 79’s is on me if the first words out of that boy’s mouth aren’t ridiculously stupid.” Cody mutters to Rex.

“Fuck Cody I don’t want to play this game.” Rex mumbles back already knowing Cody will win. Echo opens his mouth to speak but Fives beats him to it.

“My nipples are hard boys.” Fives says still rubbing them and looking around to see if anyone else was doing the same. Rex lets out a long and disappointing sigh through his nose with a small shake of his head. Cody turns facing behind Rex with his hand rubbing his chin in an attempt to hide his laughing. Echo closes his eyes to possibly stop himself from smacking Fives.

“Good morning Captain.” Echo says opening his eyes again.

“Morning Echo.” Rex sighs before Echo elbows Fives in the ribs.

“Fuck Kix switch shirts with me!” Jesse finally pleads before they start forming up with the other men.

“I’m not rewarding you for being unprepared.” Kix says as they take their spots. The 501st form up on the right while the 212th form up on the left.

“Okay first, it is cold and even mynipples are hard, so I don’t know if that really constitutes as something ridiculously stupid!” Rex hisses to Cody when his men are out of ear shot. Cody just throws his head back laughing. Ahsoka slowly emerges from the crowds of men with a deep frown on her face.

“I’m offended by how cold it is this morning.” She mumbles standing beside them. Rex grins crossing his arms.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Cold? Commander Cody is it cold to you?” Rex asks. Cody tilts his head as if thinking.

“No, not familiar with that word.” He says. They both grin while Ahsoka rolls her eyes.

“Its to early for you two.” She groans rubbing her face.

“I’m cold!” Jesse calls from the ranks. Rex shakes his head as they wait for the last few stragglers to form up. Boil walks up from the 212th with a datapad.

“Here’s the roster.” He says with a yawn. Cody takes it and scrolls through the names. Appo finally makes it to the front with the datapad for Rex.

“Cutting it late there you think?” Rex says taking the datapad from him.

“Had to make sure the new guys had PT gear.” Appo shrugs. Rex frowns while scrolling through the roster. That’s right. Clone Force Zero. Rex watches as they walk around the rows of men to stand in front. They all wear 501st PT gear looking uncomfortable. X stands bored. Side-eye can’t stop yawning. Stitch and Flex can’t stop looking around the grinder while rubbing their arms from the cold. Ghost looks like he had just walked out naked and pushes himself against Side-eye with arms hugged tightly to his sides.

“How was your first night?” Rex asks trying to pull a smile on his face. X gives a shrug.

“It was like sleeping on a bunk bed in a warehouse full of snoring men.” X says crossing his arms. Rex keeps the forced smile on.

“Oh good.” He says through gritted teeth. “You can just fall in with the 501st.”

When they’re walking towards the back Rex lets out a sigh and shakes his head.

“Was that the clones Master told me about?” Ahsoka asks staring after them.

“Yeah, odd bunch that one.” Rex says trying to focus on the roster. Appo turns and waves into the crowd for someone to come up front. Rex watches two clones slowly walk forward.

“Captain, these are the two new members that got in last night.” Appo says with the two clones standing at full attention. Some men in the ranks laugh at their stiffness.

“At ease men,” Rex chuckles. They loosen up but in a stiff way. “What’s your names?”

“CT-5385 Sir!” The clone with a bun says snapping back to attention. Rex holds up a hand to try and calm the seriousness from these two.

“No, not the CT numbers,” Rex says hearing Cody chuckle beside him. “I’m Captain Rex, this is Commander Cody. And your names are…?”

“Ah I’m—I’m called Tup Sir.” The one with the bun says. The other one who Rex stopped before spouting CT numbers has a V tattooed across his left eye.

“I’m Dogma Sir.” Dogma says. Rex gives them a smile.

“Welcome to the 501st,” Rex says. “Fall back in so we can start the warmup.”

Appo leads them back into the ranks of 501st. Rex signals Fives to fall out. He hands him the datapad.

“You get to take muster.” Rex says. Cody hands the datapad back to Boil before they both stand in front of their men.

“Atten-tion!” Rex calls making both the 501st and 212th pop to attention. He steps back letting Boil and Fives walk forward.

“501ST attention to muster. When you hear your name sound off!” Fives starts. Boil does the same for the 212th. While they give muster, Rex has to fight the urge to spill everything about Clone Force Zero but not wanting to disclose anything to Commander Tano to soon. He peaks down at Ahsoka who rolls her shoulders slowly waking herself up.

“I don’t know how you talk me into these things Ani…” a voice sighs to the side. Rex smiles at Senator Amidala and General Skywalker walking across the grinder. It wasn’t odd for the Senator to join their morning workouts.

“Good morning Senator. Working out with us today?” Rex greets her. She gives him a warm smile and then an eye roll at General Skywalker.

“Yes, I was talked into it somehow.” She says eyeing the General. The General just grins with his hands on his hips more energetic in the morning then normal.

“It’s good for you,” The General starts. “Besides, the boys always seem more motivated when you’re around.”

He gestures out at the men who have perked up since seeing the Senator. Rex and Cody exchange a look before General Kenobi walks through the ranks.

“Blast this morning chill,” He says standing next to Cody. Both General’s wear the same PT gear as the clones except with a brown shirt instead of white. Ahsoka does the same except Rex and Fives tried drawing her face markings on her back. It doesn’t really look like them, but they tried. Many of the men have decided to make even their workout uniform unique. Hardcase scribbled GET THESE GAINS on the back of his. Kix had #MEDIC. Jesse proudly wears I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE on the back of his. Jesse’s wasn’t Rex’s favorite. Fives has IF FOUND RETURN TO ECHO while Echo has, I’M ECHO on the back of his. Echo still insists to have a blue handprint stamped over the right side of his chest. Rex got a kick out of all the messages his men wrote on their shirts. It started somewhat of a trend with the other clones. He’s been noticing more and more clones have been writing or even drawing things on their workout uniforms. “Well don’t delay on my behalf. Let’s get this over with.”

When muster is over, they start the warmup. It’s a series of basic exercises with ten four counts. The 501stand 212th try and outdo the other by who can count the loudest. Rex always felt sorry for the nobles living near the Jedi Temple. They probably never imagined they’d be woken up at 0500 to a clone army warming up. when the warmups done, they decide to do a Temple run.

“Alright, fast runners will be in group A with General Kenobi while slow runners will be in group B with General Skywalker.” Cody explains with the men breaking up into two groups. Ahsoka starts towards group B.

“Uh-uh come on kid.” Rex says leading her back to group A. she lets out a groan but doesn’t argue further. Cody stretches at the front of group A with General Kenobi. Normally General Kenobi would lead group B but with the Senator here General Skywalker volunteered to lead the slow group. All of Clone Force Zero stands in group A with mixed emotions of boredom or eagerness to get started. X turns his head meeting Rex’s eyes as if he could sense him staring. Rex looks away feeling a chill run up his spine. His thoughts are interrupted with Fives shouting towards the back of group A. Rex walks towards the back raising an eyebrow.

“Curse you and your slow running speeds!” He yells back to group B where Echo holds a hand up shielding his face as if it could hide him from Fives dramatics.

“Fuck sakes Fives its just a run.” Kix says in group A. Jesse leans on Kix’s shoulder.

“Yeah, Hardcase is a slow runner too but you don’t see us crying over it.” Jesse laughs giving a little wave to Hardcase in group B. Hardcase shoots Jesse the bird.

“Well since you’ve abandoned me, I’ll have to find a new running partner,” Fives says before grabbing the first clone he sees. He wraps his arm around Tup’s shoulders. “I’ll just run with… what’s your name again?”

“Tup.” Tup says uneasily.

“Tup!” Fives yells. Echo rolls his eyes while Jesse and Kix laugh. Rex walks back to the front where General Kenobi and Cody raise an eyebrow at him. He just shakes his head and waves them away in a you don’t want to know manner. With everyone in their groups they begin.

Group A always takes the lead in a steady pace with group B not far behind. Clones weren’t slow but some definitely were better runners then others. Rex had always struggled with running in the past. He never had that natural speed that others like Ahsoka or Cody had. He had to work for it and he still has to maintain a decent running schedule to keep his pace. Once they hit the one mile mark the groups begin to fizzle into everyone’s own speed. Group A and group B have now turned into a long line of runners around the Temple. Rex was impressed to see Tup near the front with General Kenobi, Ahsoka, Cody, and Rex. Fives struggled to keep the pace with his new running partner.

“Why don’t you fall back to Echo? He probably misses his running buddy?” Rex calls to Fives.

“Yeah… Echo… probably… does miss me!” Fives pants before slowing his speed. Rex gives Tup a grin before slowing his own speed. Cody gives him a look before slowing his own speed so they could run beside each other. With everyone a mile and a half in they were focused on their breathing and running speed.

“What’s going on?” Cody asks calmly. Rex peaks back at X and his men. They aren’t far behind them, but they also look like they haven’t even broken a sweat. They aren’t even trying. They could probably blow right past Rex and the other leading runners. Rex tells Cody everything he heard from X’s little meeting. Cody doesn’t answer at first as they take a turn.

“I mean… who gave them their orders? It wasn’t the Jedi that’s for sure.” Rex says with a small shake of his head.

“I keep thinking back to the first time we saw them fight. I’ve never seen any clone fight that way and I’m guilty of going hand to hand with droids all the time.” Cody says. Cody glances at Rex. “You don’t think they could be with the Seppies do you?”

“I’m not sure… If they are then how did the Seppies get ahold of five clones? Did they desert and make a deal with them like Slick?” Rex thought out loud. When they hit the two-mile mark, he was having a harder time thinking. Cody looked unfazed with only the sweat dripping down his forehead as sign of struggle.

“And another question is where did they get those weapons? I know they aren’t from Kamino.” Cody nods. “I have a bad feeling about this Rex ol’ boy.”

“Me too. But we can’t just start making accusations without proof. We’ll have to keep an eye on them until we have something we can bring to the Jedi.” Rex says. Cody opens his mouth to say something when someone runs past them so fast it nearly caused Rex to trip. X and Side-eye run ahead passing General Kenobi and Ahsoka. Rex frowns feeling his speed pick up.

“Hey!” Ahsoka yells before chasing after them. Rex and Cody reach General Kenobi who frowns after X. Ahsoka catches up to him. He smiles and says something they can’t hear. Ahsoka says something back before laughing and running beside them the rest of the way. Something stirred in Rex that made his blood hot. Rex can’t keep his eyes off X and Ahsoka. He didn’t think X would actually try and hurt her out in the open with two clone battalions running behind him. And even if he did Ahsoka was more than capable of handling herself but he still felt protective over her. She was just a kid after all.

When they finally reach five miles they come to a panting stop in the grinder. There was a small victory in seeing X and his men panting as much as Rex. When General Skywalker and Senator Amidala reach the grinder, she bends over to put her hands on her knees panting. Running at her speed was no challenge for the General who looked less worn compared to everyone else. Hardcase rolls on his back when he reaches the grinder and pants loudly while complaining.

“He lives!” Kix calls before walking over to Hardcase. Jesse places a foot on Hardcase’s stomach who makes a gaging noise.

“He pukes, you two clean it up!” Rex says snaping his fingers at them. Echo and Fives roll in with Echo placing his hands on his knees while Fives walks around with his hands over his head. They watch as all their men reach the grinder and slowly crawl back into formation. Not wanting to waste any time Rex and Cody stand in front of their men leading them in stretches. When the cooldown is down, they let their men go.

“501ST, we have duty tomorrow! Stand by for the watch bill!” Rex calls out before being answered with groans and moans. He looks over at Ahsoka and X still talking and sharing laughs. General Skywalker walks up to them when Rex does.

“Nah, I beat you!” Ahsoka says putting her hands on her hips.

“You must have used the Force or something because I was in the lead.” X says placing a hand on his chest.

“Master, tell X I’m faster then him!” Ahsoka says looking to the General.

“No way. I’m staying out of this.” He says with a chuckle and putting a hand on his hips.

“Fine, you won. But I want a rematch Commander.” X says crossing his arms.

“Oh, you’re on.” She says with a grin before walking back towards the temple.

“Settling in nicely I see.” The General says to X. X pulls a smile on and nods at the General.

“Everyone’s been very hospitable.” He says eyeing Rex who shifts his weight beside the General.

“Glad to hear,” The General says before looking back at the Senator as she approaches them. “If you’ll excuse me boys, I have to make sure the Senator makes it home safe.”

“I’m more then capable of doing that on my own.” The Senator raises an eyebrow at him with a smile.

“I know but it’s my duty as a Jedi ensure your safety!” The General says as they start walking away. When the General is out of ear shot X’s smile fades.

“Well,” X starts when Rex faces him. “This was a nice little jog. Me and the boys are going to shower. See you around Rex ol’ boy.”

The hair on the back of Rex’s neck stands on end. He watches X walk back towards the temple with his men. Cody and General Kenobi walk over to stand next to Rex.

“I don’t like that bunch.” Rex says narrowing his eyes at him.

“Patience Captain,” General Kenobi sighs. “They will reveal their true intentions in time.”

With nothing else to do Rex makes his way towards the Temple with Cody and the General. They change the subject to past tactics, but Rex couldn’t keep X out of his head. There was something off about him and it wasn’t just his armor or his weapons. It’s how he carries himself. How he acts. Everything about him was so familiar but Rex couldn’t pinpoint from where. Rex shakes his head. Maybe he was just paranoid. He decided he wouldn’t think about them for now. Now he has to prepare a watch bill for tomorrow and keep the 501st out of trouble while they awaited their next deployment. That alone was hard enough.

Click HERE to read full story on AO3.

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ladynightmare913 · 3 years

Text

Secrets of the Darkened Seas

Welcome to Chapter 10! I know it has been a long while but, reality got in the way. As always, I would like to give a big thank you to my best friend Olivia ( @asunshinepuff ) for inviting me to help her bring this world to life.

Just a small reminder that the next chapter will be posted on Olivia’s blog!

As always there is mermaid lore hidden with the story. The included lore for this tale has been written under the guise of Fantastic Nautical Creatures by Newt Scamander. As always it will be taken from the book “The Secret World of Mermaids” by Francine Rose while putting our own twist.

Don't forget to send me an ask if you have any questions or comments about the story or its characters, or if you simply want to say hello!

Now without further ado,

Chapter 10: Dúi hǎi and Shou

Sirius glared at the snake, which was currently a bracelet on Remus’ hand. “How come it doesn’t bite you?” His eyes never leaving the gold snake.

Remus shrugged nonchalantly, unperturbed as he leaned against the lower walls of the quarterdeck. “He likes me.” He continues looking over his notes in a worn leather notebook.

“What do you mean he, it’s a sword, pretty sure it doesn’t need pronouns.” Sirius had been tasked with tying knots, eyeing Remus opening with contempt.

“And yet we call ships, she.”

“That’s different, you’re talking about a sword as if it can understand what you’re saying.”

Remus glances up for a brief moment, an unreadable expression upon his face as he considers his answer. “Because he can.”

Sirius pauses, “How?” He raises a skeptic's brow. Remus doesn’t respond, ignoring him in favor of continuing his work in the book. Sirius simply rolled his eyes, continuing to tie the knots.

Remus continued to have Sirius work on the ship for many hours. Sirius was not let out of Remus’ sight. And at small moments, Sirius would hear a soft humming sound. As if metal was vibrating. Sirius would look around to try to see where the humming was coming from, but no one seemed to notice.

And every time Sirius focused to find the source of the humming, it would stop. Oddly enough, Remus chuckled to himself softly throughout the day. Insane, Sirius thought as he was sent to retire for the night. Remus threatened another full day of work the next morning. He was definitely insane.

The next day, Remus was once again immersed in his work with that worn leather book of his. Sirius continued to work, mopping the deck under the beating sun. Then the humming returned. He ignored it at first. But as the day drew on, he noticed that it only seemed clearer to hear whenever he was nearby Remus.

“Are you humming?” Sirius prompted.

“No.” Remus look strained as if it physically wounded him to dignify Sirius with a response to such a stupid question. So Sirius carried on. Until he couldn’t take it more.

“What is that incessant humming?! It sounds like ringing metal!” Sirius cried out, searching for any possible source of what that horrid humming was.

Remus froze at the words, finally looking up to Sirius. “Wait… you can hear it?”

“I’ve been hearing it for nearly two days!” Sirius retorted with a dramatic turn of his head.

“I thought it was dramatics,” Remus replied simply.

“Please tell me you hear it too.” Sirius ran a hand through his black locks. “Otherwise, I think I still have some of that thing’s,” he pointed to the gold snake on Remus’ wrist, “venom in my veins.”

“Yes, though not humming, it’s words.” Remus closes the book, placing his quill as a marker in his place. He wouldn’t dare fold the pages of the journal. “There’s no venom.”

Sirius stared at the tawny-haired boy dubiously. “What? What do you mean, it’s words?”

“More a song really.” He continued as if the ebony-haired pirate had never spoken.

Sirius raises a quizzical brow, “Alright, I’ll bite. Who is singing?”

Remus gave the man a pointed look, growing bothered at the simple conversation, “Dúi hǎi.”

Sirius stared unblinkingly. “You’re joking. A sword?”

“Why would I joke? Over humming?”

“Why would a sword sing?” Sirius countered.

“It can’t physically speak to us, so it makes a near-silent song.” A male voice replies.

Sirius turned to the helm, the First Mate was resting his arms on the railing, his legs crossed, a wide grin on his face.

“And not everyone can hear it. Which is why Remus thought you were merely jesting.” Quinn explained.

Sirius’ eyes flickered as he looked between the two. “Can you hear the humming then?”

Quinn nods in reply, “I can. Though it’s a bit different for me, I had to train in order to hear it. It’s a process, but since then, I hear the sword’s song.” He glances down to Remus, “Remus had to train as well.”

“So why can I hear it?” Sirius frowned.

Quinn smiled. “Because you were bitten by Dúi hǎi. Its venom ran the course through your veins, as you so kindly pointed out earlier, it increased your exposure to the sword’s properties rather quickly.”

Sirius glared at the snake. Dúi hǎi took it upon himself to come alive and hiss at the pirate in retaliation.

Quinn tilted his head as he tsked. “Dúi hǎi, be nice. Your venom is very potent you know.”

The snake simply hissed, Quinn stuck his tongue out with a low chuckle. Sirius couldn’t help but watch the interaction with awe and mild horror.

Remus watched silently, amused at the interaction. A small smile upon his face as he watched the little snake.

“It can actually understand you…” Sirius spoke lowly. Disbelief and amazement on his face.

Quinn looked back to the pirate. “He is alive, so of course he can.”

“A language, like an actual living language that people learn and understand?”

Quinn smiled once more. “Well, it’s more like a melodious tune. There are no actual words in the Language of the Spirit Swords.” He chuckled at that. “It was a pain to learn.”

“The sword is alive, it has a spirit. And they are very aware and in tune with their environment. Dúi hǎi is the spirit of the sword. He was born when he was forged but named by his master. My sword is the same.”

Quinn reached for the sword at his side, brushing his fingertips across the hilt. A hum reached their ears. Sirius’ eyes widened.

“How does one come across a sword like yours?” Sirius found himself asking.

Quinn clicks his tongue, tilting his head side to side, contemplating his answer. “It’s a complicated answer. You usually don’t find a sword like ours. Not to mention they could reject you as their master.”

“Why?”

“Oh, there are many reasons. Personalities don’t match. The swordmaster could be cruel. They could physically harm a sword— and yes, you can harm a sword. Sword and master could reject each other. The sword could even be picky. Shou, my own sword is picky about everything.” Quinn paused. “It’s a lot like choosing a horse really.” He chuckled.

Shou, a wide sword with a solid black sheath adorned in gold accents, hummed loudly. Quinn winced a bit but otherwise ignored it. Remus also winced.

The hilt of the sword had red and black cross stitching etched the smooth grip. In the center handle, there was a small lion’s head, engraved in gold, much like the snake of Dúi hǎi.

Sirius simply continued to watch in astonishment, his lips parted. He simply couldn’t believe it.

“Shou and Dúi hǎi were forged for us, to fit our personalities. But even then, it does not guarantee the sword will accept you.”

Sirius found himself nodding as if he were a student. For once in his entire life, Sirius was behaving like a diligent apprentice. Remus stared at Sirius with perplexity. He has never seen the pirate this quiet for so long. Quinn looked between the two teens with a knowing grin.

“Well, I think that’s enough for today’s lesson class. You’re dismissed.” He chuckles. Leaving the two teens to their own devices.

Remus nodded his head in acknowledgment as Quinn left them. Sirius carried on with his task of mopping the deck. Silently.

As the day turned to night, Remus looked at the rising moon, noting that it was nearly full.

Soon.

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13uswntimagines · 4 years

Text

You’re in Wubble Now (Bino x Teen!Reader)

Request: R is Sue and Megan daughter(14 years old) ? Like what is being at the wubble together?

Authors note: Hey dudes, I really don’t know much about basketball, or its players, but I hope you enjoy this! Hit me up with requests, questions or if you just wanna say hi!

You smiled brightly up at the sky, enjoying the way the sun fell on your face. You had missed the feeling of the sun on your face and cleats on your feet for the past 4 months you had spent in quarantine. You were glad that wubble included an outdoor area where you could practice your juggling in. You didn’t want to lose your edge over your Aunt Tobin.

You glanced down at the ball, flicking it up to balance on your toe-box, before starting to practice the various tricks you knew how to do. All the while moving towards the place that you had designated in your mind as “goal”. As you neared the area, you tapped the ball a little too hard, sending it careening over the small fence and directly onto the outdoor basketball court. You groaned loudly as it collided with one Sami Whitcomb.

“I’m so sorry,” You tried to cover your giggle with your hand, but failed.

“Trying to take her out so Chicago Sky has the advantage kid?” Jordin Canada laughed, sapping a hand on your shoulder, and you shot her a cheeky smile. You and your Aunt JJ had a running joke that the Stars were your favorite team, though you were rather partial to Portland, just to annoy your mothers.

“Hey short stack, you’re good with your feet, but are you any good with your hands?” Sami joined in the banter, spinning the soccer ball on her finger before tossing it back to you. You smiled and caught it on the top of your left foot and began to juggle again.

“Are you kidding me? She’s got Pino’s height and none of Bird’s skills,” Breanna Stewart joked, resting her elbow on the top of your head. You huffed. Yes, you were short, and the USWNT always liked to remind you of that, but next to your mom’s teammates, you were practically a dwarf and they didn’t mind telling you about it.

Just because you preferred soccer didn’t mean you weren’t any good at basketball. Hell, you and your mom had done nothing but play pickup games in the driveway since the whole COVID thing started. You weren’t terrible, to begin with, but you had definitely gotten better if you did say so yourself. You had even pulled the basketball version of a nutmeg on your mom. Plus, you never backed down from a challenge.

“I think I could take you,” You smirked, puffing out your chest. The women laughed at your adorableness. They knew just how competitive you were, they had seen it in your determination to make the U15 soccer team, and in all of the stories about you, Sue had shared with them.

“Be careful what you ask for kid, just because you’re a Rapino-Bird doesn’t mean we won’t whip your ass,” Jordin said seriously, (gently) bumping your shoulder. You set your jaw in a way that they had come to recognize as your ‘I’m going to win any way I can’ face.

“Sounds like a challenge to me,” Sami laughed at how cute your determined face was, patting your upper back in a way that reminded you of your mom.

“Oh, you’re on. 2v2 me a Sami vs you and Breanna” You nodded at Jordin, who flashed Sami a wink. They couldn’t let the soccer players teach you everything, now could they.

****

The game was going well for you, as you and Sami were up by 12, and you were about to extend that lead. She crossed you the ball, bouncing it in between Breanna’s legs. You collected it, realizing that if you tried to dribble, you’d most likely fall victim to Jordin’s marking. So you took the shot, Jumping up just outside of the three-point area. Jordin, not expecting the move, bumped into you milliseconds after the ball had left your fingertips, sending you careening into the concrete floor.

“You alright kid?” Sami asked, watching as you got back to your feet, and gasping when you turned around.

“Shit, Sue’s going to kill us,” Jordan mumbled when she saw the gash that had formed just above your right eyebrow, and the red substance that was seeping down your face, staining your brand new Re-inc popsicle shirt.

“Kill you is more like it,” Breanna smirked, shoving Jordin’s shoulder lightly.

“And I’d be more worried about Megan,” Sami murmured as she took a closer look at your cut.

“I’m fine guys,” You grumbled, pulling your head out of Sami’s gentle hands and turning to find the basketball. The rapid movement caused even more blood to drip down your covered face, and land unceremoniously on the pavement.

“Yeah, let’s get you to the medic,” The women rolled their eyes at your insistence, Jordin grabbing one arm, and Breanna grabbing another while Sami placed a hand at the center of your back to get you moving forward.

The walk to the First aid room had been relatively uneventful, as the women wouldn’t budge on their stance that you needed to get checked by the doctors (though several other players sent you worried looks as you passed them).

“I’m going to need to call one of your mothers down here for consent to treat you,” The doctor said quietly, handing you a piece of gauge and motioning for you to hold it to the cut that was still freely bleeding. You rolled your eyes at him and nodded for Sami to call your mom. She was always more level headed than Ma when you got hurt. You should have guessed that they would be together and that they would not be happy to find out that you’d been hurt… again.

“What the fuck happened?” Megan exclaimed, bursting into the first aid room, racing over to you and glaring at the women who were accompanying you. It was kinda funny cause even though she was so much shorter than them, they all shrunk under her gaze.

“Meg, chill.”Sue interrupted, stepping between her wife and her very afraid teammates. Megan may have been short but she was called your mama bear for a reason.“What happened?” Your mom asked you directly, crouching down so she was eye level with you, and taking the soaked gauze from your grasp. You sighed dramatically.

“We were playing a game of pickup, and I got bumped. They freaked out,” you scoffed, waving your hand at the three women who were still covering inter you Ma’s gaze.

“I think our response was well deserved,” Sami grumbled, gesturing towards you. So maybe there had been a lot of blood, but your Aunt Ash had always said that head cuts always bled more.

“It was just a scratch,” You rolled your eyes, your annoyance leaking into your tone, sure that if it had been any one of your mom’s teammates, you would still be outside on the field, enjoying the sun.

“Yeah, like Kelley’s nose during the World Cup,” You am sent you a pointed look, and you froze.

“I don’t stop in the middle of games,” you grumbled, pouting and crossing your arms, pulling off a flying squirrel impersonation that would make the woman proud, “and plus this is nothing compared to the time Aunt Toby took me surfing” You pointed out, shivering just thinking about the experience. The almost drowning part hadn’t been the worst part, the cuts from the coral on the bottom had.

“You got caught under a wave and almost drowned,” Sue said sternly, forcing you to look her in the eyes, and grabbing another wad of gauze, as you had bled through the first two.

“See, this is just a baby cut compared to that, or liked the time I went skateboarding with Emily,” You shot her a grin, and she sent you back a grim smile.

“Yeah, that time you broke your collarbone,”

You huffed. It had been Lindsey’s idea for you to try and jump the fire hydrant, and Emily’s fault that she hadn’t cleared the sidewalk for you. If you had followed through with the landing, you probably would have creamed the family of 4 just trying to enjoy their day.

“I’m going to have to put stitches in,” The doctor interrupted, peeling back the gauze and setting up to treat your cut.

“You’re not allowed by yourself with our teams anymore,” Megan huffed, glaring at the three women who were watching your interaction with their captain in awe.

“Hey, it’s not our fault the shrimp-“ Jordin started to protest, only to be cut off by a glare from her Captain.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Sue said, her voice dangerously low, before turning back to you. “You’re benched for the rest of the season kid,” She finished, cupping your cheek. You closed your eyes in frustration. You didn’t want to have to sit on the bench with your ma.

“Hey, I’m not that bad,” Megan pouted at you, obviously offended by your reaction. You loved your Ma, you did, but you had way too much energy to not be able to play sports, even though you probably had a concussion.

“No, you're not,” You said back lowly, and Sue laughed at your sad face. She knew that there would be no way to stop you from playing sports, but maybe the promise of cuddling with your Ma would at least give your cut time to heal.

“Love you, my dear,” Megan whimpered, placing a careful kiss on your cheek, followed by another from Sue.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #Bino x Reader #Bino Imagine

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hale-13 · 3 years

Text

En Pointe

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 24 Prompt - Stitches

No matter how much she hates the Red Room, ballet is still Natasha’s go to stress relief. Peter is just curious and eager to learn.

Words: 2311, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark

TW: Broken Bones, Blood

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“You do ballet?” Peter asks curiously as he watches Natasha tear the shank out of her new pointe shoes. Her old pair is still in pretty decent shape since she only dances on occasion now but its always been relaxing to sew and break in a new pair and it never hurts to have a few back ups.

“Sometimes,” she answers cryptically as she steps on the toe box with her bare heel to flatten it out, Peter watches her fascinated, venturing further into the room and sitting cross-legged a few feet from her. He’s careful not to touch any of her old shoes or the ribbons and other tools and materials spread out in a semi-circle around where she’s sitting. “Why?”

Peter’s fingers are twitching where he has them pressed into his thigh like he’s holding back from touching. “I did ballet as a kid. Just a few months of classes before my parents died and I was terrible but it was fun.”

Natasha hums as she reinforces the toe of the shoe with glue and fans it a little to dry it out. “You probably wouldn’t be so terrible now,” she tells him as she bends one shoe and then the other, enjoying the cracking noise they make as she works them in. She looks over to Peter to consider him for a moment. “Want to try?”

“With you?” He squeaks and its kinda adorable how nervous he is. Nat suppresses a smirk as she puts on her toe spacers and worn out toe pads – the lambs wool she modified these with is absolutely perfect and she won’t even consider using another pair until these designate around her feet.

“Of course,” she answers, standing up and bending first one shoe and then the other before going up en pointe and squatting to work in both shoes. She’ll need to dance on them for a few hours before they start feeling really good but they aren’t too bad right now. Sometimes new shoes just aren’t right no matter how well she prepares them but she has a good feeling about this pair. “You seem mostly coordinated as Spider-Man at least, I think you can handle a few basic positions.”

“Uh yeah,” Peter says, jumping to his feet like an over eager puppy and making Natasha smile a bit. “Yeah that sounds great!” She can almost see his tail wag.

She gestures to the barre running the length of the studio Tony had put in the compound just for her and has them face each other, correcting Peter’s posture as she goes. His sneakers are ratty and falling apart and she wrinkles her nose at them. She taps them with the hard side of the box of her shoe. “Lose those. I don’t have a pair of men’s shoes lying around so you can just go barefoot for now.” Peter hastens to do as she steps into some resin, crunching the small rocks into powder and rubbing it into the sole, box and sides of her shoes. By the time she’s done, Peter has positioned himself back at the barre, barefoot and with the hems of his pants cuffed up to mid calf.

He looks a little nervous and intimidated so Natasha give him a little smile as she hands the barre with her left hand and adjusts herself into first position as Peter stares intently. “We’re going to do some plié to start I’ll show you the positions; this is first.” Peter’s more graceful than she expected, his legs easily falling into place without shaking or him losing his balance like most new students was. She’s almost impressed.

Peter’s a surprisingly quiet student – she’s seen him in the lab with Tony and in the field where the kid is definitely what she would describe as a chatterbox. He asks a few questions here or there but, for the most part, he just observes and follows her lead. He picks up the positions quickly and Natasha puts on some music and instructs him through her usual warm up. By the end he’s sweating a little but he looks relaxed and a little pleased with herself.

“Can you teach me to spin?” He asks her a little shyly but with an undercurrent of excitement, shifting his weight from foot to foot like an overeager puppy and Nat gives him a soft smile.

“Sure,” she says, ditching her point shoes and slipping into some flats. “So you want to start off…”

He falls over the first few times but he nails a sloppy spin the fourth time. He stumbles a little once he stops, arms akimbo and legs spread for balance with a surprised look on his face. He looks at her for a second with a clear expression of ‘did I just do that?’ before letting out an excited laugh and fist pumping. “Holy shit!” He says under his breath and Natasha laughs with him – his good humor infectious. “That was so fun!”

“Try it again,” she says. “And this time keep your arms tucked in tighter and you head fixed on a point. Like this,” she demonstrates again, focusing on a dent in the wall to keep her head from spinning with her body and to keep her from getting dizzy. Peter tries again and cleans up his form a little.

“I think I’ve got it,” he says after another few turns and then he starts again, spinning once, twice, three times and, on the fourth rotation she sees his ankle twist as if in slow motion. Peter lets out a grunt as he loses his balance and, instead of falling, tries to stick to the floor with his abilities. His momentum continues to pull him though and she hears his leg crack in a sound that echos through the studio over the soft music and makes her hair stands on end.

“Fuck!” Peter exclaims and he drops, hitting the smooth wood floor hard and immediately dropping onto his back, face ghostly. His tibia has broken cleanly in two near his ankle and twisted to break through the skin in a grotesque fashion, leaking blood onto the previously pristine floors. Natasha immediately falls back into her extensive first aid training and drops to the floor next to Peter, tying one of her leftover ribbons around his upper calf in a crude tourniquet.

“Let’s get medical down here FRIDAY,” her voice is calm even though her heart rate is elevated. Peter looks about two seconds from passing out but pushes himself up with prodigious effort only to turn green when he sees his leg, turning away from her abruptly to gag and retch. “Get it all out,” she tells him, rubbing a hand across his clammy back.

“It’s…” Peter gags again. “The bone… I…”

“Don’t look at it,” Natasha says firmly, pushing him back to the floor. “Tony told me you were accident prone but I didn’t know you were this bad,” she tells him with humor, pulling off the shrug she had put over her leotard and leggings and mashing it firmly into the wound, making Peter moan and turn white.

“It’s Parker Luck,” he tells her, sounding out of it. He looks like he may pass out and that just won’t do – she needs to keep him awake.

“What’s that?” She asks, brushing the hair off his forehead in a tender gesture and massaging his scalp a little.

“Just my specific brand of bad luck,” Peter says a little sardonically, his voice wavering from the pain. She wants to ask more but the door at the opposite end of the studio flies open hard enough to hit the wall and bounce back as Tony – helicopter mentor extraordinaire – skids into the room and literally trips over his own feet to get to Peter’s side. Natasha would roll her eyes if she wasn’t so concerned herself.

“What happened?” Tony asks her, tone accusatory and Natasha gives him a sharp look.

“We were doing ballet and he spun just a little too hard,” Peter groans from the floor, this time from embarrassment and covers his face with his hands muttering ‘just let me die’ under his breath. Tony flicks him on the forehead.

“Don’t be a dramatic little shit,” he chastises, still looking more worried than anything. “Only you would manage to give yourself a compound fracture learning ballet of all things.”

“Don’t be mean to me,” Peter whines. “I’m injured!”

Natasha can’t hold back her snort at this, the situation would probably be a lot less humorous if she didn’t know Peter would likely be completely back to normal in a couple weeks or less with his healing factor. The kid was like rubber.

“What did you do this time?” Bruce calls from the doorway, pulling a gurney and followed by a small gaggle of nurses. Natasha steps back and away as one of them takes over putting pressure on the still bleeding puncture and pulls Tony with her. She knows that if he had his druthers he would glue himself to Peter’s side and aggravate Bruce and the other medical professionals to death.

The team is quick and efficient in stabilizing Peter’s leg with a temporary splint and loading him on the stretcher, bustling out of her studio with Tony following just as quickly as they came in. Nat isn’t a big fan of crowds so she stays behind, cleaning the tacky blood off the floor before it dries and sets. As it is, the fine grains of the wood are tainted and she knows she has no chance of cleaning all of it out and resigns herself to dealing with flaking blood on the toes of her pointe shoes for the foreseeable future.

Satisfied with her clean up job, she slinks back to her room and showers, washing the remnants of Peter’s blood off her hands and forearms and the sweat out of her hair. She changes into some loungewear and dries her hair and, figuring she’s probably stalled long enough, grabs a book at random from her bookshelf and makes her way to the medical floor.

The halls are silently when she arrives thankfully and the waiting room is empty bar Tony. He’s seated in one corner facing the hall that leads to the operating and recovery rooms and tapping something into his StarkPad, reading glasses perched onto the tip of his nose and in danger of slipping off the end. He looks relaxed which she takes to mean the Peter will be just fine – not that she expected any different.

Tony jumps when she settles into the chair next to him, glasses falling to the floor and nearly fumbling his tablet. He sends her a glare without heat – he’s always complaining about her sneaking up on him but its not her fault he isn’t observant – and sets the tablet aside.

“Well?” She asks, quirking one eyebrow in expectation.

“He’ll be fine,” Tony tells her, relief clear in his voice. “They’d normally have to put in a pin or two but, with his healing, they just want to flush it out really well to prevent infection and then reduce the fracture and throw in some stitches and a brace. He’ll be on bed rest and crutches for the next week or so until the stitches can come out and he can transfer to a boot but he’ll be back up in no time.”

Natasha nods, she expected all of this really and pulls her legs up to sit cross-legged in the small chair. She didn’t do a cool down after her work-out and she can already feel all of her ligaments tightening up – her hips and knees crack as she adjusts and make Tony wrinkle his nose in obvious disgust. “He was doing pretty good for a while,” she says breezily. Kid’s got natural talent.”

“He can’t walk across a flat surface without tripping,” Tony tells her. “Don’t let all of his Spider-Man acrobatics fool you – Peter’s as clumsy as they come. His aunt should have wrapped him and put him in a bubble years ago.”

She laughs, elbowing Tony in the side and dodging his returning nudge. “He’s good for you,” she tells him honestly and Peter really is. She’s known Tony for a long time, considers him one of her closest friends barring Clint and this is the happiest and most settled she’s ever seen him. It makes her happy.

Tony blushes and clears his throat, trying to hide it but she can see the satisfied little smile on his face. He can’t deny his happiness. “Anyway,” he tries, changing the subject swiftly – she lets him. “You’ll have to help keep him entertained since part of this was your fault after all.”

“Not my problem the kid’s an accident waiting to happen,” she says with no heat. She already plans to hang around during Peter’s recovery. She can teach him more about ballet if he wants, he could shape up to be a pretty decent partner with some practice and she thinks it might help him a little with his balance and enhancements. Control of your body is important for both after all.

Later when Bruce leads them to Peter’s recovery room he gives her a knowing look that she ignores in favor of perching on the edge of the bed and teasing Peter about his poor technique. He’s high as a kite from the enhanced pain meds and cackles at her good natured jokes. Tony threatens to put him in a cushioned room for the rest of his life and Peter rolls his eyes like this is all par for the course.

He falls asleep again pretty quickly, drooling onto the pillow and twitching a little as he dreams and Natasha feels her chest feel with warmth.

Yes, she thinks Peter will make an excellent student.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump24 #Prompt: Stitches #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

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sleep-i-ness · 4 years

Text

My Saviour (Tony Stark x reader)

Blurb: Y/N is going to die. That she’s sure of. Now is the wait, ten feet under a collapsed building, waiting for it to finally give way.

Prompts: “I am being extremely clever up here and there’s no one to stand around looking impressed. What’s the point in having you all?”

CW: Mentions of death and dying, injury

A/N: This is my entry for @thefanficfaerie‘s writing challenge, I am so sorry it’s late! Back to school and all that

The ceiling’s about to go. You need to get out of there NOW. Everything changes the mission Y/N thinks she’s going to die. Sure, there had been a few close calls every now and then but never like this. Trapped under a collapsed 7-storey building, with dust still settling around her and ominous creaks echoing around the small space. And, how could she forget, with the team’s biggest ego for company.

The day started early, if she could even say ‘started’ when Stark had kept her up in the labs with him, well past her usual bedtime. Cap had tried to insist, yet again, that she joined him on his ‘invigorating’ morning jog, despite the fact that she had nowhere near the stamina of a super soldier and that she was running on eleven cups of black coffee (adding milk had ended up taking too much time when the exhaustion was kicking in again) and spite. Her spite, she decided, was what was going to get her out of this mess.

At the bright and early time of 10am, Stark had stumbled out of his bedroom, having actually gone to bed instead of being pressured into joining a training session. Well, he didn’t really need to train; the suit was his manpower. Unlike the rest of them, he didn’t need to keep in shape, other than to pick up women at whatever posh event he went to. Which was unfortunately never kept a secret from her, as for some reason, whilst her floor (why did she need a whole bloody floor?) was being decorated/renovated, she was in a room directly adjacent to Stark’s. One thing he’d apparently forgotten to invest in was soundproofing.

Soon after Stark had deigned to join them at their Team Breakfast, which, according to Rogers, was an Important Bonding Session, Fury had decided to give them a call. And with Fury it was never a catch-up call, which would be nice, once in a while, now that she thought about it. Or maybe not, she dreaded seeing the man for mission briefings, she wasn’t sure if he had the capability of acting like a normal human. Oh God. Imagine Fury having brunch. She wasn’t sure if her hysterical thought stream was due to the dust fumes, lack of oxygen, undiagnosed claustrophobia kicking in, or perhaps a torturous combination of all three.

Anyway, this impromptu call was due to a SHIELD mission that had gone sideways and so the Avengers were being called in to clean up the mess. Well, considering their track record, she had been betting that more mess would be made than sorted out. It was meant to be a smallish HYDRA base with few soldiers, but more than the agents already sent in were able to handle. All she could say was that wherever Fury got his information from was seriously wrong and he needed to reconsider his sources.

Stark had groaned when the mission had come up, already complaining that they weren’t the clean-up team. He had waved at the mission file onscreen, gestured again for dramatic effect and then settled into making snide remarks for the rest of the briefing. As usual. She had an inkling that Stark just really liked the sound of his own voice or was compensating for something with sarcastic comments.

At least Steve got to use his catchphrase, yet again. ‘Avengers Assemble!’ Which was quickly wearing old and she had tried to suggest something else. Like “Let’s Get Dressed!” or “Mission Muster!”, but neither had quite the ring and, to be honest, she’d just run the original through a synonym generator. God, if any of their fans heard her complaints, she was sure she’d be butchered alive in a riveting ‘debate’ on Twitter. Apparently, they liked the cheesiness.

The first spot of bother they’d gotten into, or, well, Y/N had gotten into, was when she’d found out that her suit hadn’t finished downloading the upgrades so she would have to use her original. Her original consisted of a latex and Kevlar suit that she’d hand-stitched together. That had been back when she’d first realised that she could actually make a difference in the shitty area of town she lived in. Spares weren’t a thing for the Avengers and Stark had made sure to mock its ‘home-made chic’ feel. Well, not everyone headed a multimillion-dollar corporation when they decided to become a ‘hero’.

She still wouldn’t describe herself as a hero. She was just a girl who, instead of getting a prison sentence for aggravated assault and destruction of property, had been picked up by SHIELD. They’d seen something in her that she’d never once seen looking back at her in the mirror. After months of training and little missions, she’d been chucked headfirst into the dark stuff, fucked up a psych eval and ended up being pulled from field duty. Barton had trained with her while they were both out of active duty and vouched for her once he’d been cleared, jeopardising his job as an agent and an Avenger, for her, which she couldn’t thank him more for. Fury, not knowing what to do for once, had shoved her into a team that was only just starting to bond with each other. They hadn’t needed a barely-adult, not psych-cleared agent pushed into their hands. But they’d taken her in without complaint all the same.

The second spot of bother was the hundred or so men who had been firing at them from all angles, not the expected twenty or thirty. Stark had flown in and gunned ten or so down in his bulletproof suit, but even that hadn’t been enough to make the fight easy. Barton was perched up a tree, true to his nickname as usual, and was taking out man after man, but one replaced the other as soon as they fell.

And because all things come in threes, there had been a third spot of bother. It had been when the control room collapsed due to an exploding arrow that Barton had refused to admit to, and the central structure’s integrity had been compromised. She had gone in on the intelligence gathering mission and the stupid program had completed 84% of the download. So, she had assured her teammates that she’d wait for it to finish and then get the fuck out of there. But she hadn’t had time. And so that brought her up to now, in a tiny space, feeling more and more squashed by the minute. Rubble clattered down above her every so often and the space would gradually shift as the weight on top of it increased. She just hoped SHIELD found her before she was completely crushed. If they were even looking for them.

“Y/N?” Stark’s voice was hoarse from the dust, even his suit must’ve been unable to filter it all out. She frowned; she was sure that it had its own oxygen supply. Perhaps it had been damaged when he’d zoomed in as the building collapsed around them, professing that he would save her. Fat lot of good he’d been. As the floor had caved in beneath her feet and the ceiling collapsed simultaneously, he hadn’t even reached her before she’d fallen in the sinkhole that had opened up. She’d always said that constructing a tall building on top of earth riddled with secret passages was just asking for trouble.

“Yes?” Irritation bled through as she tried to keep her tone civil and sweet, but the circumstances were definitely not ideal for her mood. And she’d had barely any sleep. Which was arguably thanks to him, and no, she still hadn’t forgiven him for it.

“Okay, good, just checking you were alive.”

She rolled her eyes at that answer. What if she’d been unconscious? She’d still be alive. No need to pester her just for that. “Well, how are you going to get us out of here?”

Stark was silent. For once in his life, he finally had nothing to say. She would applaud herself on such an accomplishment, but she was busy trying not to lose her temper. He was meant to be the genius, the one with a plan for everything, and she knew that was a lot of pressure to put on him. But she’d really like to believe that she wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for him.

“I’m…” He hesitated, light flickering feebly through the rocks between them. “Having some difficulties with the suit. JARVIS, why don’t you tell her?”

The monotonous voice came through clearly, albeit a bit tinny over the speakers. Although she’d read plenty about the AI when creating her own suit and then promptly dismissed the idea that she would ever be able to do the same, it was still weird how omniscient he seemed. It made her skin crawl, the idea that she had no privacy, even in her own bedroom. “Suit’s capabilities are down by 62%. Weapons status – missiles offline, repulsors limited power. Damage has been sustained severely on the chest piece as well as the helmet and left shin pieces.”

Her mouth dropped; she hadn’t expected it to be this bad. Sure, a damaged chest piece she could’ve guessed, because that would have affected the suit’s oxygen supply, but the power source must have also been damaged. “Can you clear some more space, or get us into the same area? Maybe if we can access the equipment that was in the control room…”

“On it. JARVIS, scan the rubble for equipment and structurally sound areas.”

From where she was sat, nothing seemed to be happening. Even the lights from his suit had dimmed considerably, causing her to squint to try and make out various shapes in the fallen rock. The almost silent creaking around her were amplified in the darkness and she shivered, a cold trickle of dread running down her spine. She’d always hated just waiting for something to happen, knowing that it was going to but not when or how.

The raspy static of comms was incessant in her ear as she strained to hear of any movement or updates on their situation from Stark’s position. Nothing. God, she hoped he hadn’t been physically injured. She forgot that he was just a man beneath all that metal. Nothing superhuman or enhanced or specially trained from too sheng of an age.

“Y/N.” Stark’s voice was urgent and low, a light hiss through the dust filled air. “There’s someone else down here. JARVIS is detecting enough of a heat signature for them to still be alive.”

A gentle groan made her freeze, hair prickling on the back of her neck. She turned her head ever so slightly to the left, peering into the pitch-black darkness. Blinking furiously, she soon realised that there was no difference between when her eyes were shut and open.

“Hello?” A familiar voice called out and she sighed, face relaxing from its grimace.

“Barton?”

“Y/N? I thought you got out?” He coughed, wheezing dust and she winced at the harsh sound, chest clenching painfully in sympathy.

She chuckled bitterly, “Yeah, nope, Tony also got stuck down here.”

A loud thump startled her, rubble tumbling down as a metal support beam snapped under the strain of the weight. Inhaling and exhaling slowly to calm her mounting nerves, she curled her arms over her head, hoping that she’d survive this. Time seemed to slow as the seconds, minutes, possibly even hours ticked by. Nothing more to do than ponder the situation and any and every scenario that could come of it.

Crash. She jolted as the ground beneath her trembled, sucking in a quick breath. This was it. This was the end. Closing her eyes, she sent out a prayer to whatever god was out there, anyone who could help her. Hoping it would be swift and painless.

Cool metal brushed against her face, and her eyes flashed open. The icy white glow lit up the dust-filled air in front of her and she choked back a sob of relief, pressing a hand over her mouth. Tony shushed her softly as he heaved a large slab of stone out of the way, sending tiny particles of rock down onto her. They bounced off her face and she whimpered, biting down hard enough on her bottom lip to draw blood.

The shredded metal of his arms slid under her, catching at her clothes as he pulled her into his chest. Cradling her in his arms, he plodded into a spacious cavern, each step followed by creaking joints. The stone was cold against her back as he propped her against the central mound, her head lolling back.

He popped his visor open, eyes lit by a blue glow as he stared at her intently, a flicker of worry dancing behind his eyes. “Are you okay?”

She was sure that he’d already asked her that but couldn’t find it in herself to bite a remark at him. In fact, she couldn’t even remember why she’d been so pissed off at him before, her annoyance swept away by the pure elation of still being alive.

“I’m fine.” At his sceptical look, she sighed. Nothing was broken or injured too badly, although she hadn’t really had time to think hard enough about it. That was all that was necessary. “Don’t worry about me, Tin Man, focus on getting us out of here. You need to help Barton out first.”

Before too long, Tony had returned, placing Clint down beside her. She knelt over him, guided by the light from Tony’s suit and held back a gasp. Brushing hair off of his pale and sweaty face, her nimble fingers ran over the bruised and battered flesh of his leg and she grimaced. He hissed at the sharp stabbing pain, the ghostly touch still too much pressure.

“Is that what heaven’s like? What did I do right to get a girl as pretty as you looking after me?” Clint’s words were slurred as he tried to crack a grin and ease her worries. She chuckled, as Tony clomped round to see what was happening.

“Don’t be getting too comfortable, Barton. Anyone can get a squashed leg.” Tony’s words were snide, and she clicked her tongue in disapproval.

“Stop it.”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Tony protested. She could hear the pout in his voice.

“Go work on getting us out of here.” For the first time since the beginning of the mission, she felt hope. She knew it was a dangerous emotion. It had been ingrained deep into her mind that hope was dangerous, that it should be stifled. But she wanted to believe that Tony would find them a way out, that they wouldn’t die with only each other for company in a deep, dark cavern, waiting for the ceiling to collapse on them.

The sharp scraping of metal against metal as he moved away was painful and she winced. His suit was in a bad state, but she hoped it would last the whole ordeal.

Clint’s rambling startled her from her thoughts. “You really look like an angel, Y/N. Maybe this is God’s gift for this injury.”

“Yeah, well, next time you want my attention, you don’t have to go this far,” she laughed, wiping the grime that had settled into his skin. “My standards aren’t so high that I need a guy to have injuries severe enough to possibly warrant amputation.”

Clint groaned painfully, before trying to play it off. “You mean, I didn’t have to do all this. Well, darn it.” She laughed again, giving him a sympathetic grin as he winced yet again. His leg was a blotchy mess of colours and she swallowed harshly.

She jumped as Tony’s voice echoed around the cavern. “I am being extremely clever up here and there’s no one to stand around looking impressed. What’s the point in having you all?” She grinned up at where he stood. Under his blindingly-fast fingers was what had turned out to be the main console, and she assumed he was rerouting message signals and finding a secure escape route. “Well, I’ve found us a way out. But I’ll only take you if you promise not to flirt so sickeningly.”

“Stark, are you jealous?” Clint’s incredulous voice came from beside her, tinged with agony.

Tony scoffed, his face disappearing into darkness as the blue light from the screens shut off. “No. As if.”

“Well,” she piped up, noting with delight how Tony’s head snapped towards her. “Tony, let me just warn you that you don’t need to get your leg squashed if you want my attention. I don’t need another injury on my conscience.”

“Aw, no, there goes my plan on how to win you over. Come on, I’ll carry Robin Hood and you follow me.”

The route was a dingy corridor that was lit by flickering electric bulbs that looked as if they hadn’t been replaced since the 40s. “Soft light incandescent bulbs.” Tony had noted as she passed under the first ones.

By the time she had reached the manhole cover that signalled the exit of the seemingly-endless tunnel, she weren’t sure if her legs would be able to support her much further. The startlingly bright light streaming into the tunnel made her smile, a great beaming grin as she felt the sun on her face after what had felt like days.

“Come on, sweetheart. Up you come. I’ve already signalled the team, and they’re on their way. We just need to sit tight for a bit.” Tony hauled her up, next to where Clint lay, leg even more gruesome in the light. She stumbled on the uneven ground, falling forward as her foot caught on a loose stone.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, hugging her into him. She grinned up at Tony and leant against his chest plate, relaxing into the arm that he slung around her.

“My saviour,” she giggled, suddenly anxious at their close proximity. She didn’t know why. She’d never felt so antsy in his presence before, but something about the way he was looking at her made her heart beat faster and her breath stop.

“So,” Tony let out a nervous breath. “I know I didn’t get injured for you, but how about we still go on a date at some point?”

She smiled softly. “I’d love that.”

All Taglist: @1marvelavengers1 @neymarlionelmessi7 @okkulta

Tony Stark Taglist: @holybatflapexpert @uglipotata72829 @persephonehemingway @a-stressedstudent @bloodblossom73 (if you would like to be added, please fill out the form in my bio - link is mobile friendly)

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faraway-in-headspace · 3 years

Photo

I?? I searched Chicken Choice Judy on google out of curiosity because it sounds oddly familiar like there’s a similar-sounding name and I found 4 websites selling the shirt design. But the descriptions on these pages are BUCK WILD??

Written version of the descriptions under the cut (very long).

[Begin ID

First image states: Long ago, when I had hair, I was an undergrad living in a house with nine other men. Near as I can tell, three of them (not sure which three) never bought food, just lived off what they stole from the Chicken Choice Judy shirt But I will love this other seven. We had several house meetings about it, but nothing changed. One day, I came in from grocery shopping. By coincidence, all 10 of us were in the kitchen. I started putting my stuff away. 1st thing I pulled out of the bag was my half-gallon of milk. I opened the carton, took a couple of drinks from the carton, then gargled some of it, and spit it back in. I opened my tub of margarine and licked the whole surface. By now, the room chatter had stopped because the other nine jaws had dropped open.) To your original question, those specific topics would take several years to build, as they depend on several layers of pre-requisites, which would require either that more advanced topics such as algebraic topology to be taught in elementary school, or that the buildup process happened blazingly fast during high school – both of which probably stretch the biological limits of what pre-teens and teenagers can reasonably be expected to accomplish. I spit on all my veggies, took the bread out of the package, and licked and spit on it, then carefully put it all back in the plastic bag. Remind teenage daughters to look through them before going on date with the boyfriend, in case they want to use one. I labeled it all and put it away. None of it was stolen. I never said a word, but I made it a point to repeat the performance anytime anyone was around to see it. Others began to emulate my approach and food theft stopped. Even I found it revolting, but it solved the problem. Works even better if you are sick or can at least make your thieving roommates think you are. While some cities are starting to reopen in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, people around the country are continuing to wear masks in public and practice social distancing. Vogue is committed to staying safe, and offering hopeful, optimistic content that highlights moments of camaraderie and exceptional acts of heroism from around the world. We are all looking for a little comfort too—be it a soothing Instagram account or a stylish creator on TikTok. It reminds us of the power of little things.

Second image states: A couple of guests informed me my office was too minimalist and that they expected more things to be hanging on my wall the Chicken Choice Judy shirt besides I will buy this next time they visited my wife’s and my home. I kinda hope they held their breath while they were waiting for our next invitation. They both went on to backstab me and my wife pretty bad a few years later. Another set of guests tried to squat. I had driven them all the way from Florida to Massachusetts under the impression that they had jobs and a place to live lined up. They offered no money for gas, hotels on the three-day trip, or compensation for the inconvenience and effort. He even tried to weasel out of the dinner he offered as a thank you by forgetting his wallet. The dude got me off the streets years ago and I wanted to pay him back in some way, but my wife and I were in no position to have extra residents in our home. We just don’t have the room or money. I made all of this VERY clear and told my old buddy that we could only house them for a couple of days max. There are MANY other details, but the disrespectful thing my former friend said was wordless. As I was kicking them out and they were angrily loading stuff into my car to bring them anywhere but here, my buddy left his gigantic knife right in the center of my wife’s desk. Like that was supposed to make us change our minds and let them stay? In the days of dial-up, I had a family call and not be able to get through because we were online. They decided to show up unannounced. They literally caught me in my underwear as they were let into the apartment before I could even react to being rudely surprised. Some of my family members have a history of abuse, violence, and stalking, something at least one of the visitors, my mother, was quite aware of since she lived through it with me. Her tagalong friend decided to put in her two cents and tell me I should get a call waiting or a second line because they were trying to call me. That did it! I suddenly forgot I was just wearing underwear and angrily asked my mother’s friend if she was paying my phone bill. My mother-in-law, stepfather and mom’s friend beat a hasty retreat and NEVER did the pop-in ever again.

Third image states: That was why when we did get to reality shows, Etro and then Dolce & Gabbana plus Jacquemus later in France, it was wonderful. Clothes are all about contact: As a wearer, you feel them on your skin, and as a watcher, you process them with your eye. The watching part can be done secondhand, but the Chicken Choice Judy shirt in contrast I will get this impact will always be second to the real thing. I read some commentators in the U.S. saying, “Too soon” or “Wear a damn mask!” which I always did, but these opinions while valid enough lack perspective. Milan and its surrounding region Lombardy went through what New York did but earlier. Through sagacious governmental management much more effective than that of the U.S., Italy has managed dramatically to flatten the curve across the rest of its territory. These shows just like the reopening of flights, stores, factories, and restaurants were symptomatic of recovery that, far from being taken for granted, is being tended to with vigilance and cherished with gratitude. The digital Fashion Weeks were better than no Fashion Weeks at all, but as an upgrade on the real thing? Nah. Like everyone, I missed the shows in the experiential sense this season. But for the first time since I began covering the collections several years ago, I didn’t miss a single brand or designer’s contribution to Paris Fashion Week. Which is to say, thanks to the Fédération’s online platform, I was able to watch every name on the haute couture and men’s calendars. This brand on-demand convenience not to mention being spared the logistical headaches of zigzagging across the city was pretty great. Also, everything was on time, from the films to the manner in which we filed our reviews. While efficiency can be satisfying, it’s not necessarily exciting. Ultimately, we had to accept that the focus this season wasn’t going to be the clothes but rather the brands conveying some combination of identity, process, and values. And in the absence of standardized criteria as in, showing a minimum number of looks, specifying a time range, it was interesting to observe how heterogeneous these experiments proved to be quasi–ad campaigns versus short films, conceptual or fantastical visions versus raw and documentary style. A proper kimono takes nearly an hour to put on – I’m sure most Japanese girls would much rather spend a few seconds and slip on a dress. Get survey responses from targeted consumers today.

Fourth image states: Around a decade ago, not long after he started his own label, Massimo Alba made a great mistake. A batch of shirts and T-shirts he was working on that had already been garment-dyed one color were mistakenly exposed to another. Speaking at his showroom presentation this weekend, Alba said: “It’s very interesting to me that so many good things start out as mistakes like this.” That accident was to Alba what the Chicken Choice Judy shirt moreover I will buy this mold-infected petri dish was to Alexander Fleming: a stumbled-upon eureka that led to a career-defining course of the investigation. This collection featured a series of softly tailored jackets, corduroy pants, and shorts, plus light cashmere sweaters that were hand-overdyed two, and sometimes three colors. It’s a process that led to variations in tone that included acid-trip floods of purple on purple to subtle bleeding of magenta across mustard yellow. Like most of Alba’s garments, these dyed pieces appeared at first glance conventionally prosaic. The more attention you gave them, however, the more their exceptional qualities became evident. Take a pale blue jacket, for instance, which at that first glance seemed passingly related to a surgeon’s scrubs. To the hand it was light and almost textureless in its softness: The fabric was a cotton mousseline developed for Alba by Albini. Long-sleeved, in a delicately mottled finish of washed-out sky blue, it made for an ideal mid-summer shake in pink, sleeveless, it was an impactful shirting second skin. Other interesting developments this season included a cotton pant named the Myles with acutely kinking stitched gather at knee-level on both legs and another handsome pant, baggy in white poplin, with patch pockets. A blue tropical weight jacket named the Lenny, after Bernstein, was Alba’s interpretation of a bohemian creative’s ideal piece of workwear. Collarless shirts in ripstop linen and button-up short-sleeves in terry were further finely effective coups de théâtre. Alba is a self-deprecating yet dangerous designer: Try just one carefully chosen piece and that’s it, you’re spoiled for good because nobody else quite compares. The museum in Prague where this portrait is held describes the ring on her first finger as the ring given to her at her wedding. It’s not comfortable. Maybe a lot of girls think that a see-through blouse can attract the attention of boys or they think that it will make her look much smarter. Meghan has no dress sense: no knowledge of fabrics, fit, styles that flatter, proper tailoring, Her father raised her in L.A. Enough said. Her idea of dressing for an event is “dress up” like a little girl dressing up as a princess. Shiny! Tight! Celebrity “fashion” not elegant, just flashy.

/end ID]

#infinity train #chicken choice judy #mine

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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

Text

Promised: Part One (The Great mini-series)

Pairing: Grigor Dymov x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,878

From this Anon Request: ahhh im so happy that you'll write for grigor, gwil seems to be under hyped these days. can i request grigor having to be in an arranged marriage because peter somehow fucked up another treaty and the only way of fixing it is through an alliance (we can just ignore grigor being married already)

A/N: Of course! I hope you are okay with it being a fem! Reader. If not, just let me know and I’ll write a neutral version!

Anyways, enjoy the first part of this mini series of Peter being...Peter and you are Grigor getting into an arranged marriage to fix it up!

“This wine tastes like shit, where’s the vodka?”

The bread roll you had been chewing on nearly fell out of your mouth in surprise. This was the man you had been expecting for weeks. The Lord and Sovereign of all of Russia. The son of Peter the Great, a legendary warrior king beloved by all who knew him. He even shared a name with this godly figure.

The second he announced his arrival sent everyone in your house into a giddy panic. The manor was cleaned inside out. Every butler and maid lined up outside for his entrance in their most pressed uniforms. Your family and you had put on your finest garbs as well. You had even bought a new dress for the occasion, a pink silk gown with white cloth down the sleeves, and a white middle part while long bows decorated your cream stomacher.

Every soul in the manor was there when his carriage arrived to greet and curtsy to him and his friend, tour the house, and serve him a meal featuring the best cuts, foods, and drinks available, some of which were gifts from the locals honoring his appearance.

And he just called your finest vintage wine shit.

Every pulse in your house was heard in that moment. Your mother gasped a little at the sound of such language used at the table. Especially from him.

“We…we have whiskey to be served after, it’s stronger” you suggest meekly.

“I suppose, just something stronger than this,” his companion next to him reasoned.

He was a man who was perhaps in his thirties at most, brown hair barely seen beneath his dusty wig and in a dark green jacket, only a few steps below Peter’s finery. He swirled the glass with his large hands and took polite sips of it. You looked for a reaction to the taste and barely saw one.

“You want the emperor to drink shit wine, then!? What kind of hosts are you?” Peter asked, leaning back in his chair.

He was far more relaxed than the sea of straight backs of everyone at your table. He even tossed the glass over his shoulder.

KKKK!

A servant behind rushed up with a broom to sweep up the bits.

Your mother and father looked at each other questioningly. Your brother normally had a healthy appetite, but his fork paused in mid-air since the wine complaint.

With a little sigh, your father turned to a butler and asked him to retrieve a bottle of whiskey and to look for any spare vodka at once.

Looking at your brother, the sanguine chatterbox, you saw his face had paled and his jaw was still tight. Looks like it would have to be you then to alter the mood and keep the peace.

Turning to the Emperor’s companion on Peter’s right, you began to shyly greet him “Sir...uhm…I’m sorry, I forgot your last name…”

“Dymov,” he answered kindly.

His eyes softened. At least he seemed less of an unpredictable bull as his friend.

“Sir Dymov, what is the weather like in Russia? Is it as cold as everyone says?” you questioned.

“Oh, yes, very! Some winters have crowds of people wearing fur coats indoors and gathered around the fire,” he explained.

Peter cut in, chewing on the meat with an open mouth as if he were a cow in a field, “which is why we need to drink vodka to stay warm. Speaking of which, where is your butler and why the fuck hasn’t the vodka gotten here yet?!”

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Later that evening, there was some parlor entertainment as usual. Coffee, whiskey, and vodka were all served and seemed to be drank in generous amounts.

It began with you showing your musical gifts. You were to sing as your father accompanied you on the pianoforte. Your breath was feeling higher than what was needed for healthy singing. You could not help but gape at the two Russians who seemed to analyze you. They were hard not to ignore since they were both astoundingly tall, Peter only barely taller. Sir Dymov listened attentively, hands leaning against him as he and the emperor were offered the softest chairs.

But Peter was somehow enraptured. He looked right at you and was still, listening to it the whole time.

You noticed his eyes were not on your face. And your pink dress was as modest as your mothers.

Forcing yourself back into the music, you picked a spot in the parlor, near a bookshelf, and stared at it, trying to focus on the music and words. Lose yourself in its brief escape.

There was polite applause following. When you curtsied, you put a protective hand over your chest.

Your brother, more inclined to the world of theater, offered a reading of some texts by the finest playwrights of your land. Everyone listened to him as they settled for cards at a table, but you stood a while to focus on your knitting. Nerves had shot through you and you had to do something with your hands that would calm you more than cards with the boorish guest.

“May I sit here, Miss Y/L/N?” Sir Dymov asked to the spot next to yours.

“Yes, you may…” you answered, finishing a row of purl stitches.

As he sat down, he even offered to hold your yarn and straighten any strings.

“Thank you for the dinner, and the reading, and the music and everything, it was nice, far more peaceful than at home! And God knows, I could…we all could use some peace…,” he turned away briefly to keep a small eye on Peter.

“Sir Dymov, why would you need peace? Is it the war with Sweden?” you asked curiously.

His angled face looked oddly dark, despite the glow from the fire.

“No…Just a little bit of personal heartbreak, Lady Y/L/N. And your song was about love, so I was reminded of her.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” you asked

Flinching away, you cursed the impulse. It might be too personal.

“She rejected my marriage offer. She’s uhm, uh…how do I put this politely… she’s Peter’s mistress,” he explained

“Oh.”

“And she said she would not give up her position after our marriage, so she said I could either have to be married to her but share her with Peter or she would not consider my offer at all,” he sighed.

Setting your knitting away, you looked up at him with empathy.

“Sie Dymov, that sounds hard. But I can’t imagine how her saying yes would make anything easier…”

“I do miss her, and she’s in court so I see her still every day,” Dymov complained.

“You’ll find a way through heartbreak. I’ve had some of my own, but something better might happen!” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Once you set things down and decide to join the card table, you see Peter look up from his cards and scowl.

“You know, this is dull. Where is the louder singing? The wild dancing? The animals? No wonder people die here so much, they become bored!” he spat throwing off his hand onto the table.

“Things here are…a little quiet compared to your mighty empire,” your mother answers with a plastic smile. “But we make do…”

“I’m practically dying of boredom. How the hell was my father friends with you lot?” Peter asked.

Your father’s head ticked to the side, his eyes getting bigger.

“We were friends since our youth, and he loved all of us,” he said, words tinged with a subtle venom.

Your mother cleaned up the cards, and your brother paused his dramatic reading.

“Your highness, we can all retire if you don’t want to play anymore. I think traveling all the way here from your palace must have been exhausting. Is there anything else you need to make your stay here more comfortable before tomorrow?” she asked.

Peter’s eyes glinted up at you. Your body cinched as if ready to fight or flee.

“How about you offer to bring your daughter Y/N to my bedchambers for tonight, that would make me a lot more comfortable!”

Dymov’s jaw dropped. Your father stood up a little to get out of his chair but he was beat. In a flash, your brother slammed his book shut and rushed over, staring the ruler of Russia in the face.

“How dare you treat my sister like one of your whores?! Never!” he yelled.

“It’s my right as your guest?” Peter rebutted with a bizarre calm.

“After we’ve been kind to you? Gave you our best food and wine, housed you in our nicest room?” your brother roared.

You wanted to shrink yet you were frozen. Your father walked to your side and put an arm around you.

“You can have anything you want, but you’re a married man, Peter. My daughter’s dignity is important to me, as is your own wives. I don’t want to insult her as well,” he reasoned.

“Honor? Honor? You all only spit about honor when you live shit lives with shit food and shit company!” Peter argued.

The warmth of your father’s presence left you as he walked forward. Scuttling, your mother stood by you to take your hand in his place.

“Your highness, I knew him like a brother. If Peter the Great was here…” your father warned.

“He isn’t here! And I’m the Emperor now! And he isn’t!” Peter bellowed.

So on. And so on.

You retired early, your mother by your side to escort you as you saw your father and brother arguing back and forth. The only ally Peter had, other than his title, was Dymov holding him back. To protect or stop him, you could not tell.

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The next two days there was such bad blood it was unbelievable. There were no fun outings as planned. You ate alone. You hardly saw anyone. Any room you walked into; you could hear yelling.

Your father made sure you weren’t alone with Peter, but it seemed his eyes had gotten distracted with the fighting. Hopefully, he was joking. Partly.

One night you snuck downstairs to have a glass of water and heard a few words despite yourself.

“That’s it! I leave tomorrow morning! And you can forget my support and all your fucking soldiers, too!”

“Your highness, our money is about to get tight. And our people need it even more than us!”

“Too fucking bad, then!”

Oh no…Russia is our enemy.

You cried yourself to sleep that night. The idea of now starving. And your brother was about to marry a woman he loved in a fortnight. How could he provide for her or any future children? How would all the people who depended on your generosity fare with reduced funds? Worst of all, Peter had his quick moods and ideas. What if he declared war out of spite from this one visit?

You never met Peter the Great. He sometimes seemed like a kindly fairy god father in some ways he had been mentioned. His love of your house and your country and his friendship with your father. Financial support given when needed. How so much was funded and gifted and provided thanks to his generosity.

How could any of you live after that? Even with the embarrassment alone of being insulted by an emperor?

As you woke up, you only had barely time for breakfast when your mother entered.

“Y/N…we would like to talk to you.”

“Mother, I have breakfast. And I was hoping today I’d practice my music and finish that scarf,” you dismissed.

But from the look on her face you had no choice.

“It’s important. And you must be there.”

She walked you over into the main table where days ago everyone dined awkwardly. The Emperor and his companion were there. Peter pouted yet Dymov’s face looked as if he had seen a ghost and his folded hand were shaking a little.

As you sat down in your chair, every eye looked at you, there was a moment of tense silence.

“Well, what is it?” you asked.

“We’ve reached an agreement with Peter…” your father began.

“Are we going to lose…lose everything?” you asked anxiously.

Your heart was tolling in your eardrums as the words left your lips. It had been the question that kept you worried for days.

“No, your family is going to be fine…” Dymov assured, a hand placed over his mouth.

“You can still have some of my father’s money and support from the Russian crown and our fucking alliance even!” Peter threw in, hands going up.

“But…”

“But what?” you said.

“You have to bring half of your army to fight for me, Sweden’s trying to invade us and we need men. And some of your relatives have to swear loyalty to me. But that promise needs to be secured.” Peter continued

“How? We are already sending you soldiers and subjects? What else would do it?” you asked. Although your gut was telling you the answer.

There was a little pause, but quite an evil smile from Peter.

“There has to be a marriage. Your brother’s betrothed. So you’ll have to marry into Russia to secure it!” he revealed.

Blinking, the wind was knocked out as if you had been punched in the stomach.

“Sir, you’re married to…to Sophie! That Austrian girl!” you cried.

“Sophie? She isn’t Sophie anymore; she’s already christened by my church with a new name: she’s Empress Catherine of Russia now. And since she will be your ruler and you will address her as such! Might as well christen and give you a new name too!” he scolded.

“Of course, I mean I will but…but…who do I have to marry? Do you have any…any brothers?” you fret.

Numbness gripped your hands and nausea gripped your stomach at the thought of marrying a copy of Peter.

“I’ve got no brothers, no male relatives of age or alive for you and I want this contract done soon so…”

His head turned to Dymov with a congratulatory pat on the back.

“It’s Grigor here you’ll have to fuck for life in about a month!”

Grigor’s ears turned pink and he looked up at you, lips tight.

And if I say no? you start to wonder, tasting the words.

But what choice did you have?

“Lady Y/L/N, I promise, this isn’t any easier for me either…” he finally said. “I know this arrangement isn’t coming the way you expected…and I’m just as shocked as you are.”

Would you put your family’s and your people’s future down the drain? Would you let them become bankrupt, ruin your father’s memory of his friend, and make enemies with one of the richest, largest, and most powerful countries because of your selfishness?

Besides, no suitors had been calling you, really. None likable or with good intentions at least. You were getting to the age of spinsterdom. You knew you had to be desperate if you wanted any sense of security for yourself or your family. Who knew if another offer like this could be made?

Taking a deep breath, you looked Peter in the eye.

“I will do it. For my family and for everyone who we look after.”

Peter produced a document agreeing to the engagement, marriage, and benefits it brought. You and Dymov signed it.

Afterwards there was a small service in the chapel to pray for the future and for this marriage. But you were half in another world, unaware this was happening. Dymov seemed to flush between being pale or being red.

Immediately later, they decided all was well and to make plans to leave. Before packing, Dymov approached your parents and you in the parlor.

“I have to alert you of something that will happen, when Lady Y/L/N arrives…there will be a test done by the priests to see if she’s, uh, pure…and it involves checking her…” he gestured to his pants.

You let out a shocked gasp. What kind of kingdom were you about to be thrown into?

“I just wanted you to know, so you wouldn’t be shocked,” Dymov added on.

Your mother took your hand again and rubbed your knuckles soothingly.

“We have family physicians here. Trusted friends. They will do the examination and sign a document right before she goes. There will always be a chaperone until the marriage, to make sure everything is by Russia’s standards,’ she insisted, squeezing your hand extra tight.

Before they left the whole family saw off the Russian party. As Dymov turned to you, his blue eyes darkened slightly. He bowed lowest for you and kissed your hand.

“I’ll write to you as much as I can. You can call me Grigor,” he said.

“I guess you can call me Y/F/N…Grigor,” you replied

“Goodbye, Y/F/N. We will see each other…before the wedding. Soon.”

As kind as the gesture was, your brain had not stopped reeling. It remained even as you stood there, watching the carriage trot away. A pair of blue eyes even looking at you sadly from the window.

He seemed to have the same concern

How could you travel to live in another country ruled by someone like Peter?

And how could you love, much less marry, a man you just met?

Taglist: @queenlover05

The Great Taglist: @stardust-killer-queen @itsametaphorgwil @freaking-nix @im-an-adult-ish @grigorlee @themficsilike

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oh-for-fic-sake · 4 years

Text

The Ground Rules

Geralt lays down the law with the help of yennefer after catching the reader haveing a bit of me time in the bath.

Masterlist

Ok this took all day as i couldnt stop tweaking it and i got to the point iv just got to step back and throw it out there or im gonna scream.Any way this is to go along with pastry negotiations its based after that one so could be considered part two? can be read stand alone tho in all honesty these modern reader inserts are gonna jump about in timeline cos my plot bunnys are twats. Im basing my Ciri on a mix of mature netflix Ciri and slightly mischievous witcher 3 Ciri. Any way i hope you enjoy this one im pretty pleased with it xx

WARNING: Adult Themes, Smut, DubCon Swearing MxFxF 18+

Dont like it dont read it.

Geralt snaps when you take matters into your own hands.

The Ground Rules

"Well someone is excited" Jaskier drolled as he watched your form slowly creating distance between you as you marched ahead.

As the small rickety town came into veiw you cried out a victorious and dramatic "still alive" causing eye rolls and chuckles in the group. Honestly this was the first real town you'd come to since being here and you were thrilled. Sure you'd passed a tiny smattering of houses four or so days ago where you'd traded for some bread, tiny amount of dried meat and a few other essentials oh! and yenn had managed to replace your pastry to the amusment of the resident witcher. They'd both been more open with you since the whole pastry incident-which you thought was an off handed comment on yennefers part but she and geralt had since indicated otherwise.

The people in the village had mentioned of a near by town that was rumoured to have a contract out on a nest of some monster thingamajigs that you hadn't botherd to remeber the name of .You looked down the verge towards the town with immediate thoughts of eat, bathe and sleep- on a bed, a real fucking bed ,ok so it wont be a temper mattress but you could live with that-oh my fucking god hot water,a nice loooong soak you moaned in your throat the thought alone brought tears to your eyes. You walked ahead trying to usher the group.

And maybe you could have your own room. Honestly sharing a bed with the couple was becoming an issue for you,your crush on them was definatly getting out of control now constantly blushing under their heated glances and they are becoming more touchy feely, Hands lingering longer than nesscasary or leaning in so close so thier breath tickled the hairs on your neck basically doing anything to get you flustered and you swear to god yesterday yennefer copped a feel whilst helping you threw a small steam which you didn't need help with;not that she listened. Bottom line you were becoming sexualy frustrated pretty much staying in a constant state of arousal a night away from them to take care of business would be very much appreciated.

"Come ooooonnnn guys keep up" you turned looking back at them drawing out your whine befor resuming towards the town

"Someone should catch up with her she looks like a girl on a mission" Yennefer commented

"Yes. Ciri would you keep her near the main gate and out of trouble while we settle roach in the stables ,here take her this she should cover up befor anyone gets any ideas" geralt grunted as your form began to dissapear down the brow of the hill ,ciri looked between the two before shrugging grabbing his offered cloak then ran to catch up with you.

You glanced to the side as you heard footsteps noticing Ciri fall in step with you she held out his cloak.

"Here geralt said to cover up before people get any ideas" you sighed it wasnt your fault his shirt hung off of you showing a large amount of shoulder and chest luckily when the hoover portal of doom sucked you in you were in fleece lined black leggings that had been durable enough to survive the last 3 weeks on the road(your stitch t shirt hadn't survived your initial fall) because you doubt he'd have anything your hips would get in to. Rolling your eyes you pulled the heavy fabric across your shoulders repostioning it so that it wasnt draging on the floor to much but was still sheilding your body.

"He's such a dad" Ciri giggled nodding in agreement befor reciting what esle geralt had requested ordered. You scoffed shaking your head

"So he doesnt even trust me to walk through a town, he does realise im an adult right? That i can do things with out causing trouble. i mean for god sake im not jaskier" she snorted

"I think its more like he doesnt want other men trying to sleep with you" you did a double take

"The hell you know about that sort of shit? has Jaskier been corrupting you?"

A knowing smirk crossed her face as she held her hands up coming to a halt facing you just inside the wooden gates of the town.

"You think i havent noticed whats going on by myself, Geralt likes you so does yenn jaskiers noticed to, think he's going to write a song"

"He better bloody not and anyway maybe i want to find a companion for the night." You announced tersely crossing your arms only to freeze as you heard a growl from behind you.

"Oh yes, i may have forgot to mention that witchers are senses are really sensetive" she smiled sweetly, you gaped why were you only being told this now. Looking between her and the others approaching.

"Wh-what how the fuck you leave that out? d-do you think he heard us? from back there" She nodded

"Most definitely" you gulped feeling yourself shrink into Geralts cloak a little at the looks you received from Geralt and Yennefer as he spoke to her telling her what youd just said.oh fuck.

"when you say senses you mean all of 'em? Not just one or two?" hoping beyond hope that something had been lost in translation.

"Nope all of them sight, smell, hearing the whole lot" she replied watching the colour drain from your horror sticken face. You'd been getting wet over the past few days. And the realisation that he probably knew embarrassed the shit out of you. Geralt smirked obviously he heard.You were so fucked.he knew and if he knew then she knew.oh my god. You were sooo fucked.'whelp there goes my dignity' you thought. He strode past you to the mediocre stables with roach in toe ready to hitch her for the night.Jaskier and yenn followed pulling some of the bags off of the horse then passing them out to their respective owners. Geralt then stood before you all giving you all the 'game plan' as you call it.

"we will find an inn and eat after that you get settled in for the night whist i see about this contract."

"don't bother about me tonight im going to catch myself a young fair maiden for the night" you scoffed at Jaskier's announcement drawing his attention

"Sounding like a creeper there Jask, what? you gonna do throw a net in the tavern? don't think they'd take to kindly to that" he huffed through his nose aggravated.

"No im going to sing in the tavern and lure a beauty to my side for the night" you played along widening your eyes in false realization

"oohh so your gonna go pay for it, how does it work exactly is it by hour or-" Geralt quickly intervened covering your mouth one to stop the inevitable spat and two before you could corrupt Ciri any further Jaskier deadpanned giving you a flat look.

"you're welcome to come find out for yourself im sure your just Itching to get some relief-"

"JASKIER! you go ahead at least try to keep a bit of coin back this time" Jaskier 1 Y/n 0.

You glowered behind Geralt's hand as he dismissed the smirking bard who turned on his heel prancing off quite pleased with himself. You smacked Geralt's hand away wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before slowly making your way down the street into town.It had taken nearly half an hour to find a decent inn that had room for the four of you. A room with two double beds that had a heavy curtain to split the room into two it was usually rented by traveling families. You groaned as you walked in, now you really couldn't take care of business, you followed Ciri as she placed her bag on the bed on the left following suit you placed yours on the other half of it only to have Yennefer quickly relocated it to her side of the other bed. Ciri snorted giving you a knowing look.you sighed then stomped across the room. Knowing all to well that it was futile to argue with the sorceress ,the witcher was stubborn but she was something else. Geralt handed a small pouch of coin to Yennefer.

"This is for the new clothes Ciri needs a thicker cloak preferably fur lined maybe new boots to not sure how long those will last in the mountains." yennefer hummed as she pocketed the money.

"And the clothes for Y/n as well?"

"Yes, should be enough there for what we discussed if not i'v got a bit more saved" you raised your brows blinking at them.

"err what was discussed? guys? what did you talk about? was it about me? helloooo" you waved as they ignored you.Yennefer pulled off her cloak leaving it on her side of the bed. you and Ciri followed their lead only for Geralt the tug yours back across you giving a sharp look as you rolled your eyes.The group made its way down into the quiet main room of the family run inn where you were served a meal of roast beef with vegetable trimmings ,before you knew it Geralt had left to find out about the contract with a final 'Behave' thrown in your direction.To which you grunted in response,too full to even tell him to 'jog on' - a phrase that still frustrated the witcher as he didn't know the meaning-. Yennefer had asked for a bath before your meal which you were just informed was ready leaving you alone with the sorceress. You had all decided Ciri would have the bath first then you, yennefer and finally geralt if he was back before it got cold.

"I cant breath" yennefer laughed out loud you rubbed your tummy closing your eyes

"I mean honestly, I think theres food in my lungs" groaning leaning back against the chair she gave a sympathetic smile

"Well you did inhale your food, maybe next time take it easy."

"Can you blame me, been the first meat iv recognized since i got here" It was true so far you'd been living on meats that you wouldn't have necessarily chose to eat back home rabbit,mutton venison ect.

"After we've bathed we will rest for the day but tomorrow we have to run over to the seamstress and get your new clothes, not sure how long we will be here and might have to order some or have them taken up,you are a little thing.Might have to have some leather work done too." you squinted pointing an accusing finger at her

"You calling me a midget? we going for shots now are we?" she smiled sheepishly

"No .no shots?. i just meant your petite don't worry its very cute. Anyway we are only picking up the basics a few day dresses ,Riding clothes boots that sort of thing" you blinked owlishly flushing as she called you cute.

"Riding clothes yes. Dresses no thank you" she stared unblinking at you for a few moments making you squirm at the calm expectant gaze that was getting heavier by the second, it was like the eyes of a mother when you'd been caught doing some dumb shit you knew you shouldn't be doing.

"Stop it....Yenn no... cant i just get something like Geralt has..please... i'd be much more comfortable...even Jaskier i mean im not one for the puffy bits but 'd make do....."

she blinked slowly

"Oh fine but only one or two no more and your not getting rid of these leggings either" you gave in, her gaze was to unnerving and it did things to you. Her face lit up. She was looking forward to seeing you in feminine gown instead of a her and Geralt's shirts not that she minded but it'd be a nice change to your strange stetchy leggings (not that she minded you in the form fitting bottoms) She moved leaning in to your side hand on your thigh patting it lightly.

"Thank you, don't be so worried i will take good care of everything" you gulped as you felt the flushed skin of your face grow hotter,your core clenching and warming at her sultry reply you closed your eyes trying to regain a bit of control. Suddenly her attention was drawn to a pink skinned Ciri who had finished her bath and changed Yenn nodded and released your thigh. You bolted upstairs hearing a chuckle as you did.

Once in the room you sighed in relief, making your way towards the screened off section that held a large oval tub full of steaming water. Discarding your clothes as you all but melted into the hot water.You submerged yourself getting your hair wet scratching tentatively at your scalp that had begun to ache under the grime. Spotting a small stool with what you'd consider toiletries, a bar of hard sweet smelling soap and a few vials.You grabbed the soap, opting for using it for your hair as well unsure what vials did what and went where.After scrubbing all the built up sweat and dirt you you closed your eyes lounging back against the slanted end tub you relaxed a few moments it wasn't long before you were feeling much better ,tired muscles succumbing to the soothing hot water.your body hummed. 'no one would have to know' as your summarized that this was the perfect opportunity to relieve yourself of other tensions,

'its not like geralt could smell you under water, i mean i dont think dogs can thats why criminals cross rivers when their being hunted on tv isn't it?' biting your lip you peaked an eye open and listened out carefully feeling naughty when you began moving your hand to the apex of your thighs gasping as your finger ghosted over your hardened bundle of nerves .Fuck. Your clit was sensitive not surprising when Geralt and Yennefer had practically edged you for nearly a week. You whined quietly as you began a fast rhythm on your clit ,other hand slinking down to your opening rubbing your fingers up and down the warm weeping hole. You bit off a groan as your hips gyrated against your roaming hands. Stomach tensing as you drove yourself faster and faster to the edge.Almost there.Fuck almost-you jumped hissing 'shit' ,ripping your hands away from yourself , sitting up fast enough to make your head spin splashing a wave of water over the floor when you heard the door open slamming the wall beside it.

"err theres some one in here!" you called out loudly, angry at who ever just interrupted you.You got nervous as the heavy steps quickly made their way towards you.Realizing who ever it was didn't care for your modesty as they were coming your way you slung your top half out of the tub to grasp the towel screaming because before you could grasp it and cover yourself a large calloused hand enveloped your shoulder shoving you back into the water.

"WH-GERALT THE FUCK? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUTTA ME." you shouted at him as he released you then you looked down slapping your hands down to cover your self as he raised his eyebrows and gave a lop sided grin.He defiantly looked like the big bad wolf in that moment eyes ablaze with a hunger you wasn't sure you wanted to explore or not. Collecting yourself swallowing dryly before scolding him in a voice that seemed to become smaller with each word.

"hey! get the fuck out im trying to bathe you prick" you heard the door open and close again in a less violent fashion. And suprize suprize yennefer glided into view behind the .

"Thats not all you were doing tho was it? i can fucking smell you" was growled at you as geralt wet his lips you squeaked.

"huh? b-but.. i thought..w-water" you stuttered out as your brain malfunctioned on on an epic scale. Yennefer gave out a loud laugh.

"so thats why he tore threw the inn like that.honestly Geralt i thought something was wrong" she continued laughing as she replayed the way geralt had all but vaulted the tables to get to the stairs. you pouted throughly humiliated

"something is wrong" he ground out before kneeling beside you .Shifting you tired to create some distance from him. He was having none of that wasting no time thrusting his hands into the water tugging away your shielding hand the other forcing its way between your legs. You slammed back against the tub gasping trying to get away. All you'd achieved was his hand pinning your hips to the back of the bath by your pussy

"GERALT WHA-"

"Lets lay down some ground rules" He squeezed your throbbing heat in his hand curling his fingers dangerously close to your opening you bucked moaning breathlessly .Your eyes searched Yennefer's for help but she wore a similar hungry look that he had. Another slow squeeze brought your attention back to the brooding alpha male in the room.

"This is ours.ours to lick,suck and fuck as we see fit, to do what we please with and is off limits to your wandering little hands we clear on that?" You groaned out as he emphasized certain words with teasing brushes of fingers and a slow rub of his palm. Realizing that he might actually be serious.You nodded quickly babbling as he rocked his hand back and forth igniting the heat that you had built alone.

"C-crystal-please Geralt PLease" You threw your head back as his hand moved deliberate and teasing.

"You think you deserve it? after being caught up here playing with yourself?" You nodded then shook your head confused, unable to really concentrate on anything apart from his magnificent hand ,half lidded eyes and clenching your fingers tight around the thumb he was using it to control your movements as your body whithered under his ministrations.

"Really?" He said smirking as he held completely still you sucked through your teeth biting back curses.He chuckled smug bastard. moving trying to get some friction to no avail.

"Well we have been teasing the poor thing ,of course shes going to try sorting herself out the first chance she gets .Honestly Geralt what did you expect? i did tell you" yennefer reasoned as she stood behind you combing threw your wet hair you before grasping your free hand pulling it up out of the way kissing your palm before ghosting her nose down your neck pressing soft kisses along it you mewled at her and tried to coax geralt to continue again by rolling your hips.

"I suppose we could let her off this time" His voice was pure sex as he glanced down before giving into pushing two thick fingers up into you. his breach of your walls had an initial sting but was incredible as your needy walls tried sucking him deeper greedy to be filled.

"oh-oh fuck Ger-please" you arched your back pushing down onto his hand clutching onto Yennefer's wrist. you were so hot .fuck.he was gonna make you cum too quick. You panted throwing your head side to side as your legs tensed then raised up towards your torso, your pussy wrapped tight around Geralts fingers as he held them deep every few thrusts making you feel just how your walls rippled around him. he alternated between fast and shallow then slow and deep trying to build you up slowly he wasn't going to rush you, he was skilled enough to walk you up to the edge and throw you off whenever he damn well pleased. You'd never been this desperate in your life . Yenn's cool fingers delicately teased out your nipples pinching and flicking them until they stood out provocatively. You rocked against the both of them as Geralt made sure to start dragging your clit up and down with his palm as he finger fucked you curling his fingers searching for that small spot that'd send your mind reeling. Yenn had leaned down kissing your cheek and begun whispering lowly into your ear.

"He knows what he's doing doesn't he?Iit wont take him long to find every single spot you have, thats the thing with bedding a witcher they are much more observant then regular men. I have no doubt he will know when your going to orgasm before you do.He has the ability to force them out of nowhere when ever he pleases.. He is quite cruel like that" you moaned out loud snapping your head back high pitched and vulgar sounds tore from your throat as Geralts invading fingers began rubbing furiously back and forth on a soft spot inside of you.Unable to control yourself as your legs and tummy spasmed erratically as your tearfull moans and pleas filled the room

"Thats it oh i think iv found it~" he boasted as he moved his elbow pinning a knee to the side of the tub leaving your clit cruelly exposed for Yennefer,they shared a look as she moved her hand down to join Geralts taking over to rub small firm circles on your exposed clit.

"oh-OH fuck noNOno i cant please i ca-UGh to-Too much please FUCK" Yennefer was quick to swallow your moans in a kiss of clashing teeth and tongues before any one could hear ,tears streamed down your face as your body ached your pussy contracting painfully around his swiping digits. Pulling back for air the sorceress placed open mouthed kisses over your shoulders leaving red marks with her teeth and sucking bites.

"Good girl your being sooo good you don't have to ask this time" she praised as she reached your ear befor sucking harshly below your jaw. you were quickly becoming putty in their hands Geralt growled as he picked up the begining tremors of your orgasm.

"Look at me" you obeyed instantly moaning as you watched the white wolf pull his lip up in a snarl that would have scared you any other time.

"This is what you were made for, your ours, we own you, mind body and soul we own every whimper ,every tear ,every orgasm and hole they are ours for the taking when ever we choose,from now only ecstasy you will know is what we give you" You'd never have guessed how filthy his mouth could be but it seemed to have the desired effect as a sudden rush of heat was your only warning before rearing up screaming out, not sure if you'd shut your eyes or blacked out for a moment as you gushed into the bath water.Geralt pressed into you persistent while Yennefer's hand continued the tight circles efficiently drawing out the best orgasm your ever had.Finally their movements ceased and your body went limp wracked trembling in the aftermath as your orgasm ebbed away slowly. After giving you a few moments to come down and catch your breath Geralt removed his fingers you whimpered inside's still so sensitive after your orgasm, sucking on them he moaned deep and feral before plucking your clenched fingers off his thumb. Yennefer quickly wiped your pussy gently clearing the cum from between your swollen lips. Making you twitched as the cloth ran over you.Pulling you from the bath was a joint effort as they rested you on the bed and began patting you dry with the towel.Moaning in protest as your arms waved loosely trying to take over only having your hand smacked away as they finished.Lying back looking up at them bleary eyed trying to stay awake you felt like jelly, giving up fighting you rolled over yawning tucking your arms below your head Yennefer tilted her head stroking your hair sending you into a relaxed sleep.

"Poor dear ,Oh look at her geralt shes all fucked out and we haven't even fucked her yet"

"hmm she'll be ok we just need to work on her stamina" he replied patting your bottom as he pulled the cover over your washed out form.Geralt panicked

"Shit wheres Ciri?"

"well when you came charging in down stairs i told her to go find Jaskier and stay there until one of us came to get her" Yennefer said with a sly grin he shook his head and scooped her up kissing her passionately. As he took a few steps to the now vacant bath

"well the bath is still warm care to join me?"

"with pleasure lets try not to wake her tho"

See you soon xxx

#geralt x yennefer x you #geralt x modern reader #geralt x yennefer #geralt x y/n #geralt of rivia #geralt smut #witcher fanfiction #witcher imagine #witcher fic #witcher smut #geralt x yennefer x reader

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vanchlo · 4 years

Text

Magic Moment

Hello! I could NOT resist writing another blurb about boyfriend!harry for my lovely friend, @bfharry‘s BOYFRIENDATHON after I got this idea! I’ve always loved baseball myself and playing lots of catch at work recently inspired this, as well as falling in love with Queen ;) Enjoy some fluff about playing catch with boyfriend!harry at your childhood home c:

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.4k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: This Magic Moment by Ben E. King and The Drifters (click to listen and yes Sandlot *wink*)

“Follow your heart, kid, and you can never go wrong.”

- The Sandlot

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” you jest, giggling nervously. The screen door closes with a loud whap! behind the both of you.

“Ya, maybe it wasn’t fer you,” he sighs in a whisper, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His high-top white converses slap! down the wooden stairs quickly. “I think I need anotha beer afta that.”

“Follow me.”

A humid heat hits you in the face when you open the scarlet-colored door to the garage. The familiar smell welcomes you, and so do the sights of your father’s tools hanging up on the walls. The lawn mower still sits in the same spot, his pair of old glasses remain perched on the windowsill, and the tiny mini fridge in the corner awaits your call.

“Thanks,” he mumbles after taking a long pull from the refreshing beer. You opt for a Whiskey-Coke, instead, the carbonation sending shooting stars across your tongue. You watch him wipe away the bead of sweat running down his forehead, and then the subsequent smile that drills the dimples into his cheeks. “Bloody hell, if that isn’t tha cutest thing ‘ve eva seen.”

A questioning ‘what’ barely passes your lips once you spot the miniature lilac colored baseball glove on a shelf. Next, a laugh falls from your lips and he echoes it with his own adorable concoction.

“Hard t’ believe yer hand was eva that tiny, love.”

“I know, it’s funny that my dad kept it around.”

“I would if I were him, ‘s bloody adorable,” he notes, picking up the battered leather mitt with a content smile. “Ah, lookie here. Up fer a game o’ catch, love? Bet I could whoop yer ass.”

“Harry, you can’t beat somebody in catch!” you protest, the cool liquid gracing your lips, providing you a few seconds of relief from the summer heat.

“We’ll just see ‘bout that, now won’t we?” he teases with a wiggle of his eyebrows. A tan, leather baseball glove hits you square in the chest, landing in your arms while he slips on a darker twin of it. “C’mon, I wanna see how girly of a throw ya got.”

“Oh, shut up. You have no idea what’s coming for you. You’re dating a former softball player here.”

“Am I now? Ya don’t seem that intimidatin’ t’ me, miss,” Harry laughs softly, the billowy cotton of his red Hawaiian themed shirt catching the wind once your feet find the grass. “Dunno how anythin’ can be intimidatin’ afta meetin’ yer bleedin’ father, tho’. Bloody hell,” he remarks, shaking his head.

“It really wasn’t that bad, Harry,” you correct him, placing your tall can beside his dark glass bottle.

“It was. Didn’t know he’d be so fookin’ hard on me, askin’ all o’ those questions. He never even smiled at me once, babe,” he scoffs, sliding the glove onto his large hand and messing around with it until it’s comfortable enough.

“Yes, he did.”

“No, he didn’t. Or I didn’t see it. Dunno why he was so cold t’ me. Ya’ve always had such good things t’ say ‘bout growin’ up with him . . ,” he exhales, tossing the ancient brown and red baseball into the mitt. His short curls dance around atop his head as he crosses the large backyard, the very same one you played kickball in, where you hit home run balls into the woods, set cartwheel records in, and still have the pieces of wood set into the ground marking the bases.

“He’s quiet, Harry, that’s all. You just have to find something in common with him, and then you’ll hit it off. I promise you, he liked you.”

“Don’t believe ya there, he was givin' me tha evil eye tha whole time durin’ dinna, even tho’ I was fakin’ likin’ his burgers. They were dry as hell,” he grumbles, soon coming to a stop a good way across the grassy area. Messing with his light-washed denim shorts, he checks his phone before letting it fall back into one of its pockets. “Reckon ‘s cuz yer his li’l girl, loads mo’ protective o’ you cuzz’a that.”

“Keep going, I’m not a sissy.”

“Oh, so I should go long, ‘s that right? Dunno if ya can make it t’ me if I go back any farther,” he winks, the dimples set into his cheeks all the way from here, you notice.

“Would you hush? I pitched all throughout high school, I can make your hand hurt from catching it, if you keep running your mouth,” you argue.

“Oooooo, she’s gettin’ feisty now,” he chuckles, raising his voice to carry across the clipped green grass, tall trees framing the yard. He pats his taut fist into the palm of the glove, the baseball snug in his large hand. Why, of course it is, Mr. Huge Hands.

Seconds later, the ball soars through the air and banks to the left, but with a jump, you catch it just in time.

“What the hell was that?” you laugh, holding up your hands.

“Erm, ‘m warmin’ up? Y’know, gotta get the old righty back in ‘s place,” he insists, stretching his dominant arm this way and that, ever so dramatically.

“Whatever. You’re full of shit, Harry,” you call back, adding extra volume to your voice. His bottom lip escapes to between his teeth while his head goes from side to side. You surprise him with your throw and he misses it, pulling a loud laugh from your lips. “Not so confident, are we now?”

“Shuddup! Ya were a bloody softball player, ya got advantage ova me, ‘s not fair.”

“Don’t you start whining now! You’re the one who wanted to play catch with a five time-.”

“Ya ya, we get tha point, babe. Yer a bloody star when it comes t’ softball. I know, I know. Wish I coulda seen ya play, woulda been fun. Ya should join a summer league, they sound like a hoot,” he comments, locating the ball at last back in the woods and landing it in your glove.

“And I played with my brother all of the time, and he was M.V.P two years in a row on his high school baseball team.”

“Good fer him, maybe he should be out here playin’ with you, instead,” Harry says when your throw to him sails over his head. “God, can ya control that arm o’ yers fer once?”

“Sorry!” you laugh, knowing that he doesn’t believe it for a second.

“Sure ya are.”

The ball arrives in your mitt with a pleasing whap! and your hand settles over it. Brushing your fingers along the coarse stitches, the shocks of green grass stains on the leather welcome you back to your childhood, tossing around this very same ball with your older brother and father. The nostalgia brings your hand to your pocket, and your fingers soon tap the screen of your phone.

“C’mon, slow poke! What’re ya waitin’ fer? ‘Fraid ‘ll beat ya afta all?” Harry quips from across the yard, nearing you to retrieve his beer that he sips from. With a pleased ‘ahhhh,’ he sets it down on the gray cinder blocks of the nearby fire pit after walking back, placing enough space between him and it so he doesn’t run into it.

Sliding your phone back into your pocket, music soon pours from the large bluetooth speaker in between you against the garage.

“‘s this just fantasy? Caught inn’a landslide, no escape from realityyyyyy. Open yer eyes, look up t’ tha skies, and seeeeee,” Harry sings loudly, pumping his arms down at his sides and closing his eyes adamantly. “‘m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy. Because ‘m easy come, easy go, li’l high, li’l low.”

“Any way the wind blows, doesn’t really matter to meeeeee,” you sing back, savoring the large smile painting his face as he catches your throw with ease.

“Toooo meeee,” he sings back. “Mamaaaaaa just killed a man, put a gun against his head. Pulled my trigger, now’s he dead. Mamaaaaa, life had just begunnnn. But now ‘ve gone and thrown it all awayyyyy,” he sings to the baby blue skies dotted with clouds, adamantly strumming an invisible guitar. He echoes your laugh that flies between the two of you, joining the robins and starlings flitting between the trees. “Knew I picked a good one, she’s got a good arm and a bloody good taste in music. Ya betta play Take On Me next, or all bets are off.”

“Oh, you know that I will. It feels like an eighties night, playing catch in the backyard during the summer. It’s just like when I was little,” you note aloud, jogging to the right to catch his next throw until it falls into your glove.

“‘Bout tha same fer me, just with footy, think this ‘s how ‘d like t’ spend my summers still . . I loved it so much, playin’ in tha backyard listenin’ t’ tha radio, and think my kids would too,” he says casually, sparking a blush in your cheeks at the mention of him as a father. Oh, what you would do to be able to see him playing catch with a little dark-haired boy or girl who calls him ‘Daddy.’

Fuck me, you think hastily.

Quickly, your shared favorite part of the song comes and he imitates the guitar shredding while you repeatedly toss the ball into your mitt, watching him.

“But eva since I watched Wayne’s World as a kid, I can’t avoid bangin’ my head when it gets t’ this part,” Harry chuckles, tossing a pop fly towards the overhang of tree branches. “I love tha trees here, ya know, ‘ve neva seen so many.”

“Me too, I love that part in the movie, and I love them too. It’s crazy to think how long they’ve been around to get this big. Some of them were as tall as I am now when I was little.”

“Huh,” he hums curiously, shooting into the air to grab a high one you tried to trick him with. Your eyes can’t help but wander to his dark fern tattoos that peek out when his shirt rises. “Ya think I should keep it still, or get rid o’ it?” Harry poses to you, puckering his lips at you with a mischievous grin.

“You almost remind me of Freddie Mercury with that ‘stache,” you say, the laugh growing from somewhere deep inside of you. He shrugs his shoulders and tosses a fast one back to you, hitting your glove square in the center with a heavy slap!

“Dunno why ya think that’s such a good joke, ‘s a damn compliment, if ya ask me.”

“Uh oh, are we getting a big head over there because you’ve caught my last three throws?” you joke, watching the ball soar high into the air amongst the green covering of the trees.

“Hey, be easy on me,” he pouts, his words disagreeing with his actions that send a hot fastball into your palm.

“Why? You’re never easy on me when we play Mario Kart or Cribbage.”

“Hey! You don’t have a bleedin’ nearly professional career in any o’ those!” he protests and then curses when your curveball nicks the tip of his glove.

“So, and neither do you, and you’re still aggressive as fuck when we play them! Huh, what’s your excuse, Harry?”

“Galileo!” he calls out.

“Galileo!” you echo, and the rest follow suit between the two of you as the song plays.

“‘m just a poor boyyyyy, nobody loves me,” he sings loudly, causing you to cough on your drink that you take a swig from.

“Keep telling yourself that,” you shoot back, setting down the wet can as he approaches you.

“But I am,” he whines, pushing out his bottom lip that you flick with your finger.

“Watch it!”

“Or what?” you counter, savoring the annoyed expression that soon fills his features. There’s just something about pushing his buttons that gets you going, even though you know that you shouldn’t do it.

“Or else I won’t bloody learn tha rest o’ Blackbird on guitar fer you,” he retorts playfully, taking a long pull from his bottle.

Now, it’s your turn to shout ‘hey!’ until he scoops you into his arms, your surprised shriek piercing the sky.

“You better finish learning it! But, I think that I like Freddie better.”

“How? Paul ‘s far betta. ‘ll always love Queen, and The Beatles don’t have anythin’ on Bohemian Rhapsody, but Paul ‘s tha betta musician. Trust me, I should know,” he disagrees, pecking your temple before pulling away and tossing the ball into your waiting glove.

“But, Freddie had a four octave range.”

“And? So does Paul,” Harry shrugs, raising his left arm in the air to snag your fastpitch that he almost loses. “Paul McCartney ‘s tha superior musician, just trust me on this.”

“Paul McCartney has nothing on Freddie Mercury,” a voice pipes up, turning the both of your heads to the right where you find your dad stepping out of the garage with a weathered black baseball glove snug upon his right hand.

You swear that you could hear Harry’s apprehensive gulp from all of the way over here, and when you look, you find his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“But Paul was betta on guitar, bass, and drums,” Harry argues, nervously tossing the ball into his glove repeatedly.

Your dad closes the door behind him softly, and steps out on the grass, adjusting his glasses. Surprise is absent from your range of emotions when your dad shrugs his shoulders, but you’re sure that it coats Harry’s insides in the next few moments.

“You’re right there, I like somebody who can stand up for their argument,” he comments, nodding a head towards Harry who out of the corner of your eye is smiling, just the slightest. “I think I might like this one,” he says to you, holding out his glove towards Harry, with his lips curling into his cheeks.

The smile on your boyfriend’s face almost matches that of your father’s, but he’s got nothing on the grin plastered across Harry’s face because of your next words.

“I think I do, too, Dad.”

97 notes · View notes

iraacundus · 4 years

Text

Butterfly Lies - Four

chapter four ✭ masterlist ✭ previous ✭ next ✭

mafialeader kun x reader

words: 3.8k

genre: smut, angst, fluff

warnings: smut (degredation, dom!kun, sub! reader); mentions of torture death and violence

money makes people do strange things, is what people would say, it can even motivate them to murder. kun didn’t have people killed for the money, he had them killed for the power, he was a monster among men, is what people would say. in reality kun had only ever been motivated by one thing, his love for you

✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭

When you were actual allowed to start your real job at Qian Industries, it was weirdly fun. You spent all of your mornings with Ten, explaining to him why his ideas were wildly unrealistic and crazy and providing him with more sensible ones.

“Why would the office need to be near an ice cream place, I like ice cream as much as the next person Ten but I just don’t think that is essential,” you explained, “plus that would make the office very close to a G7 territory, they aren’t on the list of enemies and I guess we don’t want to add them to that list, it would probably involve unnecessary death.”

You put a big read x over the address Ten had proposed.

“I question your priorities there but okay…” Ten said. He was questioning your priorities? Maybe Kun had assigned you this job and ordered Ten to annoy you out of the company. Somehow you knew that wasn’t true, Ten was just Ten.

“If you don’t shut your ass up, I’m going to start leaving random fruits on your desk you idiot.” It was the one thing Kun had told you that would give you leverage over Ten – his fear of fruits.

Ten huffed, throwing his pen down at the map dramatically.

“Then where do you suggest?” he asked.

You picked up a black marker and drew a circle round two different locations,

“Both of these work, one is better for efficiency but the other is slightly closer to the NCT office which could be useful for collaboration. It would be better to be further away from them though so that we cover more area combined, but I’m not against that location so you can pick between the two,” you explained.

Ten looked vaguely impressed. He picked up the red marker and drew an X over the closer location.

“We go for efficiency then.”

You held your hand up, giving Ten a high five.

“The best team that V has,” you said. Ten raised an eyebrow.

“WayV, is the name of the gang you know?” he said, “or clearly you don’t know, people just graffiti the V because that’s easier.”

That made more sense, a single letter wasn’t a great name for any brand.

“But yes, we do make a good team,” he relented, “in that you’re smart and I’m stunningly good-looking.”

You let him have that one.

The day didn’t slow down from there, next you were expected to go and learn some skills with Lucas. You were marginally apprehensive about what skills entailed but trusted Kun knew what he was doing.

Lucas was staring out of the office window when you walked in, so he didn’t notice you.

“Hello?” you said, making him aware of your presence.

“Sorry there was a cute puppy on the street,” he said turning around to grin at you. Your first question was how he saw the puppy from the street when you were on the sixteenth floor. Your second question came after his second statement.

“So, have you ever stabbed someone before?” You decided he was dangerously nonchalant in asking you that question.

You stared at him for a second trying to figure out just quite how sarcastically to answer.

“Yeh, I stabbed a guy just last week for jumping the queue, he had a right smirk on his face. No of course I have never stabbed someone you idiot, like most people have never done that, like a high percentage.”

Lucas shrugged.

“Just would have made my job easier if you had but its chill,” he replied.

He then proceeded to hand you a knife and get you to practise stabbing a dummy he had set out, showing you different tactics for self-defence. He also showed you how to disarm and attacker or just fight someone without a weapon.

He wanted to show you how to fire a gun, but you refused to learn, you didn’t think it was necessary. You also didn’t want to contribute to the number of guns in the city or gun violence.

“We can’t go to the hospital, so you have to learn how to deal with stab wounds, how to slow the bleeding and how to do stiches also,’ Lucas explained. You were weirdly excited at the prospect of this.

It was exactly the kind of area you felt you could be additionally useful without having to resort to mindless violence. You would just help with the aftermath of mindless violence instead.

As you stitched the fake arm you struggled to understand how Kun was calm enough to have done this to himself. He was truly his own brand of strangely impressive but also maybe insane.

You had actually planned to meet him later on for dinner. You were slightly stressed about it because you really didn’t want to have to talk about the whole, ‘kiss’ situation, you reckoned it wouldn’t be beneficial for your friendship to linger on the reasons you refused to commit to Kun.

You also knew it wasn’t beneficially for our friendship to ignore him, thus you agreed to go. You thanked Lucas for helping you and walked into the elevator, planning to stop by and ask Kun what kind of restaurant it was so you knew what to wear before you went home.

You arrived outside his office where the door was open, and no one was inside. You didn’t think anything of it, he was probably just busy elsewhere.

At the same time, you got a text from Johnny, one of the guys who worked out in Korea about the office location. You had a bit of free time, so you decided to go look for Ten and tell him what Johnny had said.

You decided to go to random floors and explore a bit. You had only been to a few parts of the building. You looked at the options on the lift and were surprised to find the building had multiple basement levels.

You guessed it might be carpark and thought it would be fun to see what kind of cars they drove to work out if any of Kun’s guys were just as rich as him. You pressed B1 and the lift went down.

It was a carpark, but it was empty, so you decided to go down the steps to the next level.

B2 was decidedly not a basement. The door to it was locked by a pass that said top level security clearance only. You held your pass up and it opened the door, it beeped green and opened. You were surprised Kun had given you that level of access, you had expected the door to not let you in.

There was a big sign inside the basement entrance with another reception desk. Yet this time the reception desk said WayV above it in big letters. Not Kun industries.

You had stumbled across where the real action occurred. You felt a lump rise in your throat, you were terrified yet so intrigued that you couldn’t walk away.

Yangyang was sitting at the desk with his feet up and jumped when he saw you.

“y/n!” he said, “how did you get in here?”

“With my pass,” you said wiggling it, smile on your face, hoping if you faked like you were meant to be there enough, he wouldn’t question it.

“I thought you were working with Lucas and then you were done, what brings you here?” he looked slightly nervous.

“I know what’s happening in there,” you said, hoping that he inferred something from your statement that would stop his questioning.

“Uh, okay then go on ahead,” he said, sitting back down. You felt bad, knowing that he would probably get in trouble again for this, he clearly had been demoted a lot if he was on desk duty.

You pushed open a door on your right and entered a badly lit corridor. There were a few doors, but you heard voices coming from further on down, so you walked towards that. The door was left open slightly and so you stood next to it, you could see but you could here.

You heard someone get hit, groaning in pain, causing you to flinch.

“Tell me where he fucking gave you this letter or I will rip your fingernails out one by one until you change your mind,” you heard Xiaojun’s voice. There was something so terrifying about how such a seemingly nice guy could be here, doing this.

“No fucking time Jun, either he tells us, or we shoot his buddy here,” this time it was Kun’s voice which was so much worse.

“Fuck you!” came an angry reply immediately followed by a gunshot.

“Now your friend is dead, tsk, tsk, tsk,” Kun said his voice unlike anything you had ever heard before.

“And so is your leverage,” the man replied. Kun laughed. He laughed, you were so shocked, his laugh was so like him yet so not.

“You have other friends, other partners, no?” Kun began, “You are not the only two we have or the only two we can get. Lucas here will get your other buddies from next door, one by one. I will shoot them one by one. When we run out, he will capture more, I will kill more. That is unless you fucking tell us, how you got the piece of paper.”

“Just kill me… please,” the man begged.

“But that would be so easy wouldn’t it, where’s your flair for the dramatique? Get the next one in,” Kun said.

You panicked; you knew you should leave before someone saw you, but your legs wouldn’t move.

Lucas opened the door and stepped out, face to face with your tear-filled eyes.

“Shit,” was all he said. He grabbed your arm and pulled you a few steps along so everyone in the room could see.

“We have a visitor,” Lucas said, “Yangyang still can’t do his job it seems.

You saw Kun’s face turn from a sick smile, to something unreadable. You saw the blood spatters on his hands, a dead body being rolled into a tarpaulin on the floor by Hendery and Sicheng and you saw a man tied up in the middle of the room.

The time it took for your brain to recognise the situation was enough time for your brain to finally send signals to your legs.

You dodged round Lucas and ran for the door. You ran back out of the hallway past the desk where Yangyang saw you running and now looked worried and up the stairs. You skipped the lift and continued up the stairs to the main entrance before running out the front door.

You stopped a taxi in the street and asked it to drive you home. Your only real thought was that you didn’t want to think.

You pulled out your phone. You knew Kun wouldn’t try to contact you. He was nice like that, he wouldn’t impose. He also murdered people for information. He was evil like that.

You texted Yuyan.

Need to go clubbing tonight, can you meet me at the snake house at seven?

The snake house was your favourite bar, it was right near a good club and you couldn’t wait until the club opened to drown out your memories with vodka.

You stopped at home briefly to throw on some new makeup and a dress, they wouldn’t let you into the club otherwise before walking to the bar.

Yuyan was waiting outside.

“Not to be mean y/n,” she said, ‘but you look rough, did you fall down the stairs? Your face is a weird colour, are you sick?”

“Not sick, emotionally traumatised, shall we drink,” you said dragging her through the door of the snake house. Yuyan just laughed, she thought you were joking or exaggerating, probably assumed the mental trauma was just an awkward meeting or something similar.

You stood at the bar.

“Can I get a rum and coke?” Yuyan said to the barman, who nodded.

“I’m going to level with you, can you just give me that bottle of tequila and a straw please,” you asked.

“So, a real bad day then?” Yuyan said raising her eyebrows.

“The worst.”

You sipped your tequila with a straw, it wasn’t super pleasant to drink this way, but it did have the effect you had hoped for, it made you drunk very fast.

You had practically passed out in the bar seat by eight-thirty.

“How are we meant to get into the club when you can’t even stand?” Yuyan chastised, pulling the bottle out of your hands.

“If I stop drinking now, I should sober up slightly by ten,” you said and Yuyan couldn’t argue with that.

By ten you were in fact able to stand and just about managed to get into the club, the bouncer did give you a look but Yuyan was looking pretty so he let you in anyway. A fucked-up system but it worked in your favour.

Inside the club you were still drunk, but slightly more in control, you found a random guy on the dancefloor and started making out with him. Trying to push the resurfacing memories of Kun out of your mind.

It didn’t really work. You were sobering up by the minute and so left the random guy you had found to go back over to the bar. You downed three shots and could almost hear your liver complaining before getting back to the dancefloor.

It still didn’t help but your drunk confidence was back, you found Yuyan again and explained your alcohol fuelled plan.

“I’m going to call him, I’m going to tell him to stop being bad, how dare he be like this, he is meant to be a good guy.”

You had never told Yuyan about Kun, so she had no idea what you were talking about,

“Are you sure this is a good idea, drunk calling a guy rarely is,” she advised, “but that clearly won’t stop you,” she said laughing as you walked towards the door. It was fine to leave her because a few of your other friends had shown up by this point.

You rang Kun, standing inside by the entrance to the club.

“I need to talk to youuuu!” you shouted down the phone when he answered, “I need to talk to bad Kun because he’s making my heart sad.”

Kun sighed down the end of the phone.

“Where are you at, I will come pick you up,” he said.

“The club next to snake house,” you said, hanging up the phone and wandering outside. There were still people queuing to get in on the street. It was only just before midnight. The cold air sobered you up slightly and you were already regretting your phone call decision.

Minutes later, Kun’s SUV pulled up and he opened the door from the inside so you could get in. You pulled your heels off and climbed into the front seat.

“I hate you sometimes Kun,” you said.

“I’m sorry,” he replied. Like ever he really did sound sorry. You didn’t know what to say now he was here.

“I wish I had no feelings for you at all,” you iterated, “it would make things so much easier.”

Kun’s apartment wasn’t far from the bar. He stopped the car and got out, you followed silently until you reached the inside. Kun shut his door behind you both carefully.

“Do you want me to explain?” Kun asked, his face looked so sad, you knew how much your words hurt him, but you also knew how important is was to tell him the truth.

“Let’s have sex,” you said to which Kun almost fell over.

“Your drunk and well, given the situation I don’t think that is the best choice, we need to talk about this.”

“I’m not that drunk anymore.” You replied, “and talking hasn’t gotten us anywhere.”

“Are we gonna fuck because you love me or because you hate me?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” you countered. Kun answered by bringing his lips to yours, pushing you up against his wall, biting your lip softly as your hands gripped his hair.

“We’re only in this situation because you’re a bad girl who can’t do what she’s told,” he whispered in your ear, undoing the buttons of his shirt, “I gave you a job, I take you to dinner, I do everything for you and yet you still can’t behave for me.”

His words were turning you on, so you tried to kiss him again, but he pushed you back against the wall.

“Not yet baby, bad girls have to wait,” he said, still unbuttoning his shirt, painfully slowly before throwing it on the floor. Your eyes blazed at the sight of his chest, Kun really was the perfect man, excluding his violent activities.

Kun stepped forward again until your bodies were millimetres apart. He pushed your dress up slightly, his hand pressing against your bum, pulling you towards him across the final short distance.

He stared down into your eyes, you had no way of discerning what his thoughts were, his face was blank.

“Are you sure this is what you want? Will you be a good girl for me?” he asked, his hand playing with the zip of your dress, teasing you with the opportunity to back out, knowing that you wouldn’t.

You nodded. He immediately pulled the zip down, your dress falling to the floor moments later. You hadn’t worn a bra, but you were too tipsy to be self-conscious. You wouldn’t have needed to be anyway.

“You are so beautiful,” Kun said, his normal softness fleeting over his face for a second before it was gone again. He brought his lips back to yours, kissing you more aggressively this time, his fingertips brushing over your nipple lightly in comparison.

His fingertips traced down your stomach lightly, stopping just above the waistband of your panties.

“Cute,” he said, referencing your underwear with pink bunnies on, you hadn’t prepared for the current situation. You made a face at him, but he just chuckled, “I mean it, you’re cute,” he said, before pulling them down your legs.

The dichotomy was almost too much for you to handle. His hand brushed between your legs,

“I knew you could never resist me, I’m too handsome,” he said, licking the glistening moisture off of his fingers.

Your legs weakened even with that small touch, a problem that worsened when Kun began to rub gentle circles into your clit. You groaned slightly, desperate for more, but Kun was unwilling to give it to you yet.

“Such a slut, don’t think I didn’t notice that your lipstick was smudged when you got into the car.” He said, finally pushing two fingers inside of you as he trailed kissed down your neck, your arms wrapped around him.

“But now you’re my slut,” he said, his fingers moving at a painfully slow speed.

“Faster,” you begged, your breath raspy. Kun ignored you, continuing to do things his way, clearly enjoying it from the grin on his face.

You thought about ways to get what you want, and it didn’t take you long. You had never guessed Kun would be so into sex like this, but now you did you could use it against him.

“Please,” you said, “I’ll do anything you want; I’ll be a good girl.” Kun raised his eyebrows slightly before grinning again.

“As tempting as that is, you will do what I want anyway like a good little slut.”

Well your plan failed but when he added another finger you forgot all about that. You started to whine slightly, feeling your orgasm rise within you but just before you could cum, Kun moved his hand away, leaving you empty.

Kun walked away to sit on the sofa, his eyes still locked on yours. You could see the growing bulge in his sweats. The thought of sucking him off almost turned you on enough to dissipate your annoyance at his previous actions.

You followed him over and knelt down on the floor between his legs, undoing his jeans and pulling his waistband down, letting his cock spring free. It was thicker than you had anticipated as you wrapped your hand around the tip, moving your hand down slowly.

At first you planned to give him the same treatment he gave you but when you began to suck, Kun’s hands tangled in your hair, pushing your head down faster and deeper, you could feel his cock hitting the back of your throat, causing Kun to moan.

“Look at me,” Kun said, your eyes moving to stare up at him, as he continued to fuck your face on his cock. The look of pleasure on his face making you wet all over again.

Staring into your eyes as you sucked his dick was clearly too much for Kun as he came in your mouth seconds later, grinning when you swallowed it all.

“Fuck you’re brilliant,” he said, “the best whore for me.”

“Please Kun, will you fuck me now, I’m being a good slut, just for you,” you said, still staring up at him, feeling his dick harden beneath your fingers at your words.

He nodded, you climbed onto the sofa, kissing him softly before getting onto your hands and knees.

“Look at you just ready to be fucked, you really are a fucking whore for me,” Kun said, slapping your ass, the sting only making you more desperate to feel him inside of you.

“Are you taking the pill?” Kun asked, you nodded.

That was the final thing he needed to hear. He slammed his dick into you, setting a merciless pace from the start, his cock filling you up entirely.

Kun spanked you again before he placed his hand over your mouth as you screamed out in pleasure.

“Jesus the neighbours will all know whose dick gets you wet at that volume,” he said. You moaned into his hand as he continued to fuck you, his own low groans only adding to your pleasure.

You could feel his dick beginning to throb inside of you.

“Fuck you’re going to take my load like the dirty whore you are,” Kun said, removing his hand from your mouth, instead pulling your hair as his dick slammed deeper into you.

“Yes,” you whined,

“I want to hear you say it,” Kun demanded.

“I’m a dirty whore who is going to be filled up with your cum,” you whined, feeling your walls contracting around his pulsing dick.

He final came inside of you, the feeling of his cum filling you up as he fucked it deeper into you causing your own high as you called out his name.

Kun pulled out and sat down onto the sofa, pulling you down next to him.

“Can we just sit here for a second?” he asked, his normal kind tone returning. You kissed his lips softly.

“I don’t see why not.”

#kun #kun smut #wayv #wayv smut #nct smut #nct #kun scenarios #kun imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv imagines #nct scenarios #wayv mafia #kun mafia au #wayv mafia au #nct mafia au

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lo-55 · 3 years

Text

Tilt The Hourglass Ch. 4

Mustafar was exactly as Maul remembered.

Sidious had even put him in his old room. One with no way out. No key pad by the door, no latch for the windows, and the vents filled with toxic gas to knock him out if he tried to hard to escape. It was meant to keep even the most powerful of forceful children inside.

Maul hung from shackles above an anti-grave platform near one wall. He was facing the window now, showing him his own body and the black shorts he’d been left in.

He stared at his reflection. At the floating boy outside the window. The one he’d wanted to be for so long. The one that was free.

Free of electric whips and punishments, free of expectation. That boy had no shackles, nor lessons, nor cold, unfeeling droid to raise him. He could fly away into the lava fields if he wanted.

Maul met that boy’s eyes with his own yellow one. They weren’t tinged with red yet.

How strange.

For all he’d spent most of his childhood in this one locked room Maul had no fond memories of it. All of his fond memories were of people, not places. They were the blood, sweat, and tears of a well fought battle. They were his brother at his side and power at his fingertips. They were careful hands of Kilindi and Daleen smearing bacta on his damaged body.

None featured his master. He had learned that the ‘kindness’ he doled out was nothing more than another way to manipulate Maul and ensure his loyalty.

Sidious’ droid paced the room. It held an electro-staff tightly in one hand. Every now and again, without warning, it would strike at him and shatter his chain of thought. Maul snarled at it. He’d tried to crush it on impulse once, but the shackles cut off his connection to the telekinetic powers of the Force.

At the very least they didn’t keep him from working on his mind.

Deep in the dark ocean of his memories he was pushing pertinent information down, and down, past the water, past the floor, and into lava that burned at the heart of his very being. He had to keep those parts of him guarded before anything else.

The droid struck him across the face and Maul spat out one of his eye-teeth. Blood still filled his mouth. All he could taste was copper. All he could feel was pain. Every now and again his muscles would spasm with residual shocks.

Unbidden, a passage from a medical book flickered through his brain.

Long term effects of electrocution and electronic torture include, but are not limited to, muscle spasms, memory loss, pain, tingling, numbness, and personality disorders and changes. This makes long term, and high grade electronic torture innefective for gathering information. Instead-

A hiss signalled that the door opened.

In walked Sidious, his cloak billowing around him dramatically. Inefficiency had never stopped him from shocking people. Maul personally thought he just enjoyed inflicting pain.

A lightsaber hummed in his hand.

Sidious came up to him and gripped his chin. Maul snapped at his fingers with sharp teeth, for all the good it did.

“You’re a fool, Maul, and a failure as a sith. Once you would have made a powerful apprentice. You could have been great at my side. But you chose sentiment. Your future, thrown away for a pair of girls who will never be anything more than ants.”

He drew the tip of the lightsaber down Maul’s side. It was turned up high enough to burn, but not cut into his ribs. Sidious wouldn’t end things that fast.

“Better them than you,” Maul spat. “You stole my life-”

“Silence,” Sidious thundered, slapping him across the face. Maul’s head spun. Had he ever heard the man raise his voice? Maul had truly enraged him. A sliver of satisfaction curled in his chest and Maul bared his bloody, gapped teeth at him in a grin.

Sidious gathered himself visibly. Maul had never gotten such a rise out of him. The minor, phantom vengeance tastes like blood.

“You have never pushed me so far,” Sidious said, his voice slow and sickly kind. “I have never had you disobey. I can be persuaded to forgive, if you do as I told you. I have no doubt you can hunt the slave girl and her little pet down again. You could kill her, and come again to my side.”

Maul wanted to laugh in his face. Did Sidious think it was kindness? Did he think Maul was foolish enough to prostrate himself before the sith Apprentice and bed for a life without future, without fraternity or friendship?

Of course he did.

Maul would have once. Sidious knew as much. Once he would not have hesitated to do his bidding. His only disobedience would come from misplaced eagerness and bloodlust.

Now, Maul spat blood in his face.

Sidious ripped through his already ragged outer shields once more. He lanced through Maul’s memories of Orsis and picked them apart. Each test, each challenge, and more than that, his time with the girls.

Kilindi, bumping her shoulder to his. Daleen, carefully stitching a cut upon his brow. Kilindi touching his arm while talking casually. Daleen gripping his elbow and shooting over her shoulder as he led her through their portion of the test course.

Every brush of skin, every kindness, ever inch of camaraderie between them and each small show of care. Sidious hunted them down like a dog and all Maul could do was give them to him, and spin his hurt around the depth of his being, away from his impossible truth.

He gave him Kilindi. He gave him Daleen.

In return, Sidious burned the memories across his skin. Every place he’d felt gentle fingers or joking shoves Sidious struck with the heat of the lightsaber and burned deep into his skin.

There was only pain. The taste of blood. The scent of burning flesh.

Darkness swirled across his vision. Maul welcomed it. He focused on his uneven heartbeat under the pain. Maul drew the pain and the anger inside of him and closed it around his heart, first one, then the other. He drew inside, inch by inch, bringing every agony with him.

The Force swirled through him and Maul forced it to slow, and finally still. His body went limp. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t feel.

The taste of blood was gone. The smell of his body burning vanished.

Only the Force remained.

It did not like being still. It was a fight for Maul to keep it like that, suspended inside him. Shadow consumed him, and he welcomed it.

The Force showed him what happened, in the distant, blurry way of visions.

Maul’s body went limp. He wasn’t breathing. Sidious struck him harshly across the back, where Kilindi had once rested against him with her ankle twisted. He’d carried up a mountain, and still beat the other team there while she shot each challenger who got within range.

Sidious defiled each of those memories with pain and fire.

Finally, he stopped.

Sidious circled the limp body of the boy he had raised. Blood dripped lazily to the ground and his body smoke faintly.

“I expected more,” Sidious said, frowning at his ‘corpse’. “You always had potential. I raised you to be better. What a waste of time.”

The shackles were deactivated and Maul’s body crashed to the ground. One ankle twisted wrong and made a terrible snapping sound. The body didn’t move.

“Dispose of him,” Sidious ordered.

The spider legged droid that had once raised Maul, now reconstructed for some new purpose, crawled into the room and picked up the child it had brought up from infancy. The body was small and broken in its cold metal hands. Sidious left, and the droid took Maul to the ship that would dispose of waste that day. One hand hand fast to his throat.

The vision ended with the droid running cold fingers across Maul’s brow and tucking him carefully into the ship's ventilation shafts before it closed up the grate and erased its own memories of ever finding a pulse.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Maul came to to the scent of rot and blood.

All there was was darkness and for an instant he was back on Lotho Minor, surrounded by garbage and rotten waste. Half a person, he is even less than that, and the blood he tastes is a rat he’d dragged in and a body that the snake creature had fed him. They were both mad, shrieking, and consumed by the world of fire and destruction. He was no one. He was a broken creature of hatred-

His ankle screamed in pain and Maul gasped into awareness.

He still couldn't see, but he could feel the pain in his ankle. He had his legs still. He was not on Lotho Minor, buried deep in darkness and forgotten.

He was on the ship that the droid had placed him inside of. His head still swam with his near death.

It was one of the many things that was in the Sith holocron he’d recovered with Ezra, and one of the only remaining things after its destruction. A suspended animation based in the darkside, it, like all things, took its tole on him.

Not just his suspension, he realized. It was a fever too. His body was always warm with two hearts, but now it was burning.

Maul tried to move. It wasn’t just his ankle that hurt, but every burn was festering in spite of cauterization. How long had he been out? He’d been woken by the ship jolting and the Force hissing warnings of danger into him.

Maul drew the pain inside of him and spun it into the steel of strength. Slowly, he crawled through the vents he’d been sheltered inside of. He tried not to think of the TD-D9. He’d tried not to think of him for a long time, after his destruction. It was easier to hate him for the torment he inflicted than to remember the fond friendship between them. He’d mourned him, in his own quiet way, after Deenine was destroyed. He’d done his best to protect Maul from his master, even if he was too young to really understand.

Maul quietly swore to one day return for his friend.

I’m getting greedy, he thought. What will I do with three friends?

The vents were winding and small, but Maul was small too. He made his way to the cockpit, where another familiar face was. The droid pilot that had once dropped him off on Hypori, for his finally test for Sidious. Maul turned his gaze to the window.

They’d dropped out of hyperspace into the middle of a firefight. Maul recognized some of the ships as belonging to pirates, trying to board, and their ship had been hit in the crossfires. Alarms kept flashing red lights on the console, and the droid was frantically trying to send a distress signal.

Maul watched the pirates tear away from the ships they’d been foolish enough to go after.

Why they thought they could take a full assault craft was beyond him.

Maul’s fuzzy mind couldn’t recognize the design painted on the side, and he barely registered that he spoke the language that came over the communicator.

The droid squeaked it’s need, and it’s cargo. They had left most of the waste behind, somewhere, and though the ship still stunk of it. Now they hauled back raw materials for building.

Maul crawled away from the droid, his dizziness increasing when the ship shook with a boarding ramp. He stumbled. He needed to find the emergency med pac that was on the ship. Sidious kept them on all of his craft. It was…

Fuck.

It was somewhere.

Maul dragged himself through the shafts, the world getting more and more blurry. His tongue kept poking into the new gap in his teeth. He didn’t think he made a sound, but he must have because someone shouted underneath him and a blaster bolt shot into his shoulder.

Maul howled in anger and pain and the shaft, with the boy inside, collapsed to the ground. It hit with a crash that jarred every burn and break in his body, and a crack from his ribs was telling. Someone was shouting, but he didn’t register words, only the threat behind them.

He lunged out of the wrecked vent and tackled his assaulter. His hands found their way around his throat as the body, hard and cold against his bare skin, fell back to the ground. The blaster went skidding across the ground. Maul was shaking. He was angry and cold and everything hurt but he would not allow himself to die now.

His small hands closed around the throat and he started to squeeze.

All at once he was flipped onto his back and he screamed. All the lights went out.

There were hands on his shoulders.

“Sshhh, ade, there’s no fight here,” the voice was quiet, muffled by a helmet. Maul bit the wrist nearest to him and nearly shattered his upper teeth for his trouble while the lower ones caught on the thick material of a flight suit. He was shaky and weak, the fever and adrenaline warring inside of him. The Force still muddled him with near death.

Maybe it was Mando’a that made him ease his teeth out of the flight suit on the underside of the vambrace. Maybe it was the hum of the Force, muddled but reinforcing the idea that he wasn’t in danger.

Back up lights kicked on in the ship, flooding the area in dim red light. It still revealed enough of him to made the mandalorian hiss through his teeth.

“Who did this, ade?” the anger in his voice was almost enough to make Maul fight him again, but the Force encouraged him not to. There was no danger here.

“Mas-ter,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and his throat bloody and raw.

Anger radiated out of the Mandalorian and Maul drank it in, trying to use it to clear his head. His body was having none of that. Now that he wasn’t in danger of dying it was forcing him to stop fighting. To rest. To heal. Or he really would die.

“There’s no master here, ade. I’m going to pick you up. Don’t go biting me now.”

Maul did his best to scowl at the mandalorian, but he couldn’t figure out which one to glare at. Four of them blurred in his vision. The hands that picked him up were careful, but there wasn’t anywhere to hold him that wasn’t injured. The festering wounds on his back burst and leaked across the blue painted armor.

Maul was swept into a fevered sleep by the time they reached the mandalorian ship.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jango sat beside the cot in the medbay while the droid circled the boy he’d brought back from the transport ship. He’d blown the thing up as soon as they were off of it, an impulsive choice he regretted now.

If he’d kept it, maybe he could have found out who the ‘master’ that had done this was, and where to find him.

Low rage simmered deep in his chest, and it only mounted the more the droid told him.

There were the obvious injured that Jango had seen on the transport when the boy had nearly fallen into his lap. The blaster bold that, much to his own shame, Jango had put in his shoulder was nothing compared to the rest of the damage.

His whole body was covered in injuries. Both plasma and electric burns made a horrific pattern across a body that was already mostly covered in tattoos. There were so many that Jango almost couldn’t tell if he was red with black tattoos or the opposite.

Most of the burns had half healed, but there were many, especially the ones on his back, that had gotten infected. A fever was burned through his body, keeping the boy unconscious as much as the drip of chemicals attached to his arms. The droid had gone through most of their boosters just trying to purge the infection from his system.

Jango wished he had a bacta tank to submerge the child in. He couldn't be more than a decade old.

Jango rubbed the back of his neck, where little fingers hadn’t been able to close all the way around. There were distinct hand print bruises on his throat. The boy was a fighter, that was undeniable.

He had been for a while, if what the droid said was to be believed. He had broken an ankle and a few ribs, but there were healed fractures all across his body, some years old. One of his floating ribs was twisted in a way that indicated that it had been damaged before it had even been bone yet. There were scars all across his body.

The abuse had been going on for a long time.

It made him sick.

Jango steepled his fingers and leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees. He was lucky, this boy, if only in that Jango had even answered the distress call of the droid, and hadn’t accidentally put a bolt between his eyes when he’d been in the vents. An escape attempt?

Jango wouldn’t put it past him. The boy fought like a feral-tooka, and he bit hard enough he’d actually put a dent in beskar. Jango could respect that.

One thing he couldn’t get out of his head was the way the entire ship had shut down, lights blown and fuses exploded inside walls when the boy had screamed. Jango had an unpleasant history with jetii, and the near miss on Galidraan didn’t help anything. There was no denying that this kid had the Force. Was he jetii ade? Had they managed to misplace one of their own?

Jango had a lot of questions on the matter.

None of them had answers yet. Jango finally left the medbay to let the droid finish covering the boy in bacta so he could check the autopilot. They would be landing in Coruscant in another two days. He would ask a few allies if any jetii ade had gone missing, and hopefully get the zabrak some proper medical treatment.

Then he could meet up with his friend, and current contractor, and get started on a job that he could feel was going to be more complicated than it was on data pad.

Weren’t they always?

Jango sent a message to Silas explaining the situation as well, just in case more needed to be done, and so he could look into any reports of a zabrak that matched the description. The rest of Haat’ade were out on similar jobs. Something quick that paid well. They needed to gather their resources and amass more money.

Galidraan had been close. Closer than Jango would have liked. Even with the warning that their mysterious benefactor that sent them, Jango had decided that it would be best to spring the trap. He’d been smart enough to have the bulk of their forces hidden and waiting, just a brief hyperspace jump away from the planet. They had intended to round up the Kyr’tsad on the planet and put an end to the war, but the jetii had gotten in the way. His forces had gotten out with minimum damage, and only a couple of casualties, and they’d dealt a vicious blow to their enemies.

Vizla had still gotten away. He’d hidden behind his own men, and then the governor of Galidraan and his jetii allies as well.

Hut’tuun.

If Jango could face him in a straight fight it would put an end to everything, but he was slippery. He always managed to find a way out of a fair fight. His hit and run tactics were brutal. He’d be forced to lay low for a while after this, now that his forces had taken such a hard blow, and now that Jango knew he wasn’t above manipulating entire planet’s to get Jango he was vetting jobs more intensely than ever.

The only reason he’d taken this one without hesitating was because he owed Clat’Ha for getting him off a dustball when they were teenager’s and he’d managed to wreck his already stolen ship.

Jango leaned his head back on the pilot’s seat and watched hyperspace blow past him.

Not for the first time did he long for Jaster back. He would have known what to do about the little ade in the medbay. Jango had a good idea, but the jetii aspect complicated things.

Well.

If the jetii couldn't keep track of their ade that was hardly his fault, now was it?

Jango grinned to himself.

For all his anger that the situation he’d pulled his little guest from, it wasn’t all bad. Once he woke up they could work out what happened next.

#Darth Maul #Maul #time travel #jango fett #darth maul time travel #tw; violence

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