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scarletttries · 1 year

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Roman Roy x Reader Headcanons from Succession Episode 4.09 Church and State

Roman Roy x Reader Headcanons Part Three: Funeral Episode

Pairing: Roman Roy (Succession) x Reader

Word count: 1.8k (warnings: spoilers for the new season/episode of Succession, mentions of Logany child abuse and a violent crowd)

Author’s Note: Oh Roman Roy, you lost me with your dedication to a right-wing president, then drew me right back in by whimpering through the better part of an hour in the last episode. Thank you for all the messages asking for some headcanons from the Funeral episode, because it was a doozy! I hope you enjoy and thank you for every request that's come in during this season of Succession, I know it's going to keep me busy for a long time and I love that! Roman Roy masterlist here 😊

Roman Roy Headcanons from Logan's Funeral:

- When you stood straightening Roman's tie that morning, hearing that same rehearsed speech for the hundredth time, you felt like you were loading up an aircraft carrier with too many passengers and not enough fuel; it was an impending disaster that could only be of the most mammoth proportions. Since the day he said that strangled goodbye down the phone to his father, Roman had been stoic, blasé even, in his grief. Or his pre-grief as he proudly called it. But you knew him and you knew grief better than that, watching over the course of days as each of the threads holding his grinning mask in place slowly seemed to unravel, leaving his upbeat façade hanging on by a thread.

- As you tugged at your own black outfit, never a comfortable occasion to dress for, you watched him pace behind you, unable to take his eyes off his own reflection, smoothing out his eyebrows with a flourish.

"I'm kind of the man today right?" The question was rhetorical and the tone was smug as he turned on his heels to race over to you, wrapping his arms around you in a way you know he would have never dreamed of a year ago. You were so proud of how comfortable he had become with you, but you wished it extended to his feelings about his father's death.

"Oh definitely, and you look the part too." You retorted with a matching, albeit false, smile leaning in to steal a kiss before tenderly picking up his hand. " How are you feeling?"

He shrugged and sighed loudly at the question, tired of everyone asking him, even if he knew you were the only person who genuinely cared.

"I feel great! I'm going to absolutely kill this thing, and Menken's going to eat it up with his little silver spoon, and then we're one step closer to stopping the GoJo deal and then bing-bang-bong me and you rule the world." He said it so matter-of-factly it was almost like you'd asked him if he'd been to pick up his dry cleaning, clearly not quite facing the reality of the day. You just hoped that would last past the funeral and until he was safely home again.

- Unfortunately we know that was never meant to be. The moment you see him gingerly walking up to the microphone, all eyes on him, you know he's not okay. His hands are shaking as he picks up the familiar flashcards you helped him write, his voice cracks on the first line and then he glances up and finds your eyes in the crowd, with a desperate pleading look that has you and the Roy siblings quickly on your feet and approaching him like he's a wounded animal, scared it will dart away and do itself more damage.

- He breaks into uncontrollable sobs the minute Shiv's hand lands on his arm, and you feel just awful for letting it get to this stage, the whole world watching a beaten dog unable to defend itself even after its cruel master has long died. As his siblings comfort him, their own grief welling up in their eyes as his tiny frame seems to shrink in on itself, unable to support the weight of its own suffering, he mumbles out, "Can you do it?" It takes you a moment to realise he's looking at you, and Ken and Shiv don't seem happy with the idea, but Roman's eyes are pleading and his whole body is trembling and you've heard the speech enough times and it might salvage something for Roman so you reluctantly nod, walking up to the microphone before your brain can kick in enough to stop you or think about just how high the stakes are here.

- You don't apologise or acknowledge Roman's tears as you start, launching straight into "Logan Roy was a great man," to the relief of everyone in the church. You're careful to deliver it with the gravitas it deserves, sticking to his professional accomplishments and forcing yourself to stare dead ahead, not daring to glance at the shivering child of a man sniffling into a tissue in the front row. As the well-rehearsed lines come to an end you can't help but try to damage control for Roman, with a line about the "overwhelming love Logan's children felt from him, today and every day of their lives" hoping desperately people will show some small mercy to the man you've grown to love. As you carefully descend the stairs to the polite applause, Ken gives you an approving nod, shuffling to microphone himself, unable to let the day pass without making a performance of his own. But you don't hear a word he says as you sit stiffly next to Roman, shoulder to shoulder like you used to do in work meetings before he knew how to ask to hold your hand. You use every ounce of restraint to keep him upright, knowing he's desperate to collapse in a heap on your lap, but knowing you can't let that happen until you two are safely back in the privacy of your home, knowing Roman will thank you for your resolve another day.

- As the Roy siblings approach the showy mausoleum you hang back by the car, letting them have their moment of privacy alone. You receive a few words of praise from the old guard for stepping up today, and have to apologise again to Willa that Connor didn't get to say his piece, but mostly you just brace yourself for the inevitable, ready to fling open the car door as Roman stomps away from the ceremony just moments after it begins. Following him into the car and pulling the door shut behind you, you finally pull him into your arms, grateful for the dark tinted windows as he starts to fall apart, splitting along every crack that Logan Roy carved into his fragile skin. His chest heaves against your legs as he begs you not to let them put him in that cold, stone crypt, that wants to stay with you, he wants to be wherever you are. You stroke his hair and make him a promise that you'll always be by each other's sides, whatever this or the next life brings, reassuring him just enough that he can lift his tear-stained face and press his lips to yours, wanting so desperately to feel that familiar rush of life as reminders of mortality close in around him.

- You're not exactly sure what Roman did to deserve any help from Gerri, but by the time you get to the evening soiree, she's already got Hugo spinning the narrative that Roman's tears were planned and rehearsed, an act of sympathy to show that Waystar is no longer under the control of a cold tyrant. There are a few doubtful looks from Lucas and his posse but the president seems half-convinced, commending you on 'your whole stand-by-your-man act' commenting that he's sure it will play well with voters in the Midwest, whatever that means. You just have to politely smile and nod, almost grateful he's the kind of man that doesn't think women should be heard considering the venom you're sure would pour from your mouth the second it opened in his direction.

- Despite the best efforts at damage control Kendall still finds a video of his brother sobbing trending on twitter, and the moment you leave his side, Ken's there to tell Roman that's he fucked everything, that can't do anything right, that's he lucky Ken still needs him or he'd be out of Waystar, and then you'd been done with him too. By the time you return from an extended trip to the bathroom, having hidden in a stall for five minutes rather than face interrupting a bizarre interaction between Shiv and her mother happening at the sinks, Roman's nowhere to be found. You can feel your stomach acid rising up and eating at the back of your throat as you try and ask his staff if they saw which way he'd gone, a deep pang of panic rushing through your system when a waiter tells you he's gone to see the protests outside.

- Formal black heels cast aside you sprint down the street, praying he hasn't done anything to get himself killed, knowing more than anything Roman will be craving a taste of violence to fill the void his father left. Over the deafening sound of your own frantic pulse, you heard him before you saw him, chastising the crowd as he leaps over the fencing, shoving a man twice his size and crumbling to the ground as he pushes him right back. By the time you get through the gap between guard rails Roman is on the floor, curled in the foetal position, exactly where he'd found himself whenever he'd let his father down. Every stomping foot and aching bruise made him feel close to Logan again, like he was finally playing his part, until a pair of hands dragged him back to his feet.

- Preparing to lash out again he snatched his hands away from his good Samaritan, only to be met with you, sobbing at him, looking as downtrodden as he had all afternoon. Roman was taken aback - he'd always been the one reduced to tears, trying to disguise his sobs with echoing laughs and rubbing his eyes a little too hard, but he didn't think he'd ever made someone cry before, certainly not over him. His stomach dropped as you tried to call out his name, choking on your shaky breath and tears, looking half-broken as you brought your hands up to his grazed face, wiping a trickle of blood from a cut over his eye. Your eyes looked almost frightened as you waited for him to push your hands away again, but instead his arms closed in around squeezing you tightly again his chest as he dragged you both back behind the barricade.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm okay, we're okay." Was all Roman could bring himself to repeat, new to reassurance but desperate to stop you feeling the way he usually did, hoping for once to be the cure to tears, rather than the one left spilling them. He just stood there, holding you in his arms as the line of armoured police went past, feeling you shake against his chest, so relieved that he was okay, and so exhausted with the fact that you both always had to be, despite everything. But as he clutched you tight, resting his cheek on the top of your head, chanting endless 'it's going to be okays', feeling every ounce of the concern and love shared between you, at some point he started to really believe it.

#writing #fanfiction #one shot #requests #roman roy angst #roman roy fluff #roman roy imagine #roman roy x reader #roman roy #succession imagine #succession hbo #roman roy succession #succession #succession headcanons #roman roy headcanons

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quirkwizard · 1 month

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The most annoying aspect is why didn’t AFO just give Tomura Overhaul? He could still kill his family by the surprise factor and turning his family to paste and would be more stronger and versatile for future plans. Like have Garaki teach anatomy to Tomura to master overhaul if it requires knowledge or heal up AFO after his fight with all might since Tomura is completely loyal. Plus it would make crime so much easier like overhauling walls to break in and out with no sign of damage or kill/torture someone over and over and not leave fingerprints, heal wounds since Tomura complained about no having a healer in the party. My only guess is that Decay would ensure the family dies. Honestly it feels like Hori knew people suspected that Decay was given, so he tried to add a surprise twist by having be from Overhaul but just ended up raising more questions.

AFO had access to Overclock and Overhaul and didn't keep either of these quirks, or at least a copy of them. These two alone would make for an extremely broken combo. That, imo, is just complete dumbassery on AFO's part.

Its still weird that AFO didn't have a copy of Overhaul because Garaki could make artificial copies of quirks starting with the AFO quirk itself. If Garaki had the quirk him he could have easily fixed and improved AFO after his fight with All-Might

I have a particular question regarding Kotaro Shimura. We know that he and Nana had a rough time after the death of the father and force to let go his son to being raise from foster family. Why didn't All For One track him and brainwashing him to thinking that his mother abandoned him? Why target Tenko, his son to be his successor?

I've already talked about the flaws of him taking "Overclock", that it's an extremely skill reliant power that needed a dedicated user to make the most of, so I'll just talk about everything else here.

I think you are overestimating how much "Overhaul" would by of use to All For One. Yes, I did say that All For One would benefit from "Overhaul" and I stand by that. However, that is my assumption that "Overhaul" is super easy to use. if I were to play devil's advocate, I could put forward "Overhaul" is a lot more complicated then it appears. It's only as strong as it is since Kai is equal parts competent and experienced enough to make the most of the power. This can be further supported if you go with the idea that "Overhaul" was a deviation, which are infamous for being dangerous and unwieldy for even trained users. Whether or not any of this was Hori's intention is unclear, at least to me. What I can say for certain is that "Overhaul" could not heal All For One. While "Overhaul" can fix injuries, it can't reserve damage. If anything is missing or too far gone, Kai can't fix it. It's why Eri is still scared from all the experiments that Kai did on her. The damage that All For One took is far more extensive then that, to the point that not even "Super Regeneration" could fix it. It's why we don't see it healed until he took the Rewind Drug. He needed something that potent to put his body back together.

While "Overhaul" is certainly a more practical power, there were multiple reasons "Decay" was given to Tomura. It prevented Tomura from being able to heal his family. "Overhaul" is meant to reverse any of the damage done, potentially giving Tomura an out from whatever destruction he caused. "Decay" is only meant for destruction. Second is that All For One didn't want Tomura to be too capable. You need to remember that All For One didn't want a true successor. What he wanted was a vessel that he could eventually take control over. For that, he needed Tomura to hate and for that hate to be strong. So he gave him a power that was a constant problem, risking destroying whatever he touched and was only applicable in destruction, further pushing his destructive nature. "Overhaul" would have been too useful to really work with that. Finally, it helped keep Tomura under All For One's wing. It made him easier to direct and influence. We see this all the way when they first interact. It's why he didn't use Kotaro. Going by the flashbacks, Kotaro was a full adult. It could have been that All For One had only just found him and decided to reoriented his successor plan to use Nana's family, engineering the whole scenario to make the successor he wanted.

#My Hero Academia #Quirks #Kai Chisaki #Overhaul #Tomura Shigaraki #Decay #All For One #MHA Meta #MHA Theory

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bucky-fricking-barnes · 1 year

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Tangle

Title: Tangle

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Slight angst and mentions of depression, post-NWH

Summary: Several years after his memory is erased from the planes of existence, Peter lets himself fade into the background of another holiday season.

A/N: For those who aren’t from there, the “T” is a nickname for the subway in Boston. This fic is also part of @foreverindreamlandd‘s Winter Wonderland Sleepover. As always, thank you for reading and supporting me. I hope you enjoy! Dividers are by @firefly-graphics

Slush sloshed around Peter’s boots as he trudged through the streets of Boston. He’d spent most of his day holed up in the library studying for his engineering class. His watch read 6:00, which meant that he only had an hour to get home, change into his work uniform, and head to the restaurant for his shift. If he was lucky, the T wouldn’t be as packed as it was the night before and he’d actually get there on time tonight.

Somewhere up ahead, carolers sang in four-part harmony, something about snowflakes or candles in windows. Their voices clashed with the bellringer at the corner in the opposite direction, worsening the headache that had been creeping up on Peter since hour three at the library.

Peter kept his head down and his hands in his pockets as he walked to the station. All around him, the crowds surged, buzzing with excitement, but he just couldn’t feel it, not this year. The holidays had always been something he’d looked forward to. He’d spend weeks making plans for winter break with MJ, Ned, and May until every moment was crafted to be as enjoyable as possible. The plans usually went out the window once break actually arrived, but thinking back, it was the time he’d spent with his family and friends that he’d really enjoyed, not the plan itself. Years ago, Mr. Stark had taken him out for dinner. No one had been able to know about it, of course, but it had been one of the highlights of that Christmas. It had gotten him into the holiday spirit more than anything else.

He had no reason to travel home for his Christmas break this year, even though most of his classmates were. He didn’t have the option, really, because his boss had scheduled him to work both Christmas Eve and Christmas. Even if he was able, however, Peter wouldn’t have gone back to Queens. There was nothing there for him now except the memories he’d made and a lot of pain. Three years had passed and grief still ripped through him with every thought of his life in New York, both good and bad. Lately, he’d had to bury himself in working and studying to keep from getting caught up in the memories of Christmas past. They were an ever-present knot in his stomach, like the Christmas lights he and May would have to untangle every year.

A wave of heat hit the center of his chest and Peter stepped back, forced into the person behind him by a body against his front. The woman grabbed onto his shoulders, shouting a much-too-loud apology into his ear as she tried to regain her footing on the slippery sidewalk. Instinctively, Peter’s hands went to her waist, holding onto her through her wool coat even as her cup of hot cocoa seeped into the fabric of his favorite sweatshirt.

“I am so sorry,” she apologized again, this time clutching the lapels of his open jacket. After a second, she released him and stepped out of his grasp, taking in the damage she’d done. The woman winced, then met his gaze. “I’m sorry. I slipped. I can give you money for dry cleaning, that looks expensive…”

Peter shook his head and forced a small smile. “It’s not, and it’s fine, really.”

“I know, but I—” She groaned. She looked pained, like she was the one wearing the piping hot hot chocolate. “I just feel really bad. I’m trying to be a better person, you know, with the holidays and all that, and this kinda ruined my streak.”

Unable to help himself, Peter snorted. The woman frowned and froze, looking a little offended. He lifted his hands in an apology of his own.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but it ruined your streak?”

She crossed her arms. “Yeah, it ruined my streak. I’ve gone three whole days without knocking someone over.”

It was endearing how upset she was about the whole incident, but it was hard to have any kind of conversation in the middle of a city sidewalk. Peter didn’t want this to end, so he reached out for her elbow and gently guided her towards a storefront, away from the flow of traffic.

“Three days, huh? I must be bad luck,” he replied, sticking his hands back into his pockets. His chest was warm from the hot chocolate, but his fingers were freezing. He needed to buy a new pair of gloves. The old ones had gotten frozen to a fire escape last night after he’d tried to stay warmer while stalking out a bodega. He’d spilled water onto them without realizing and the gloves were completely destroyed by the time he got himself free. Peter made a mental note to improve the fabric of the suit next time he remade it so he wouldn’t be as cold. Each winter he’d spent here seemed to be colder than the last.

The woman shrugged with a small, shy smile. The Christmas lights in the window beside her lit up her face and Peter could’ve sworn that he knew her from somewhere, but then she shifted and the shadows moved, and it was like she was a completely different person.

“You’re not so bad.” She paused, smiling at him for a moment longer before pulling her gloved hand from her pocket for him to shake. “I’m Y/N.”

“Peter,” he replied, shaking it. He stuck his hands back in his pockets right away. “I think I owe you a new hot chocolate.”

“You don’t owe me anything, but if you really want to give me something, you could give me your number.”

He blinked. She was still smiling and from the brief time since he’d met her, he hadn’t sensed anything dishonest about her, but it was weird having someone being so forward with him. The only people who had been upfront with him lately had been angry customers, and the only thing they wanted from him was his resignation, a refund, or new food. The knot in his stomach relaxed just a little.

“My number?” he repeated, unsure if he’d actually heard her correctly.

She nodded. “Yeah. I mean, if you want. You just… seem nice. And you’re cute.” She shrugged and glanced towards the people walking past. A little girl with her hair in two little buns was pulling her dad down the sidewalk and her smile brightened as she watched them pass by, then disappear down the street. Y/N looked back at him. “I’ve been trying to find someone to go with me to this Christmas thing for work, but all of my friends are busy. I thought about dating apps but… I don’t know. There’s something about you that I can’t place, but you seem like an honest guy.”

“Wait, so you’re just inviting me to this thing even though you don’t— Sorry.” Peter quickly stepped away from the door to another store, moving into Y/N’s space. She didn’t back away, she only smiled at him and nodded for him to continue. “Even though we just met?” he finished.

Y/N shrugged again. “I guess. It’s just ice skating and hot chocolate, it’s not anything fancy. There’ll be lots of other people there since it’s a public rink. The only reason I’m really going is because our boss is nicer to us if she sees us at company events once and a while. I’ve gotta hit my quota for the year.”

Again, Peter snorted. She had a thing for setting little goals for herself, it was cute.

“Are you laughing at me, Peter?”

He froze, his smile instantly wiped off his face. The small smile she tried to hide, however, was enough to tell him that she’d only been teasing. His heart cracked a little as a memory of MJ and May’s teasing slipped past his usually ever-present defenses, but he managed to keep up appearances long enough to dig out his phone and hand it over. She traded with him and he quickly typed himself to her contact with red, frozen thumbs.

“I’ll text you later, okay?” she asked, and he nodded. “Bye, Peter!”

Y/N disappeared into the masses, leaving him standing alone in front of the Polish deli. Inside, the lights shone warmly down onto the customers and employees alike, and the evergreen garland bordering the window screamed that it was almost Christmas. The weight of it all didn’t feel so heavy now, however, and he found himself smiling a little when laughter from the two men behind the counter echoed even out onto the street. String lights blinking beside him in the window reminded him once again of his recent lack of cheer, but the knot in his stomach didn’t feel as tight anymore. He had room for a little celebration now. Ice skating and hot chocolate sounded like the best way to do that.

His watch beeped and Peter groaned. He didn’t need to look to know that he was going to be late for his shift. His pay would be docked again. It wasn’t the first time, and he’d get by without the money, but he needed his boss to like him. He didn’t want to work at the restaurant forever, which meant he needed a good recommendation. Every stepping stone was important, even if he didn’t like it. All he needed to do was stay on this one until one of his internship applications was accepted.

A week later, Peter waited on the edges of the crowd at the outdoor ice rink. The speakers blared Christmas pop music overhead, but he’d tuned it out as he people-watched. He’d gotten to the ticket booth earlier than he’d expected. Thankfully, there was an open spot on a wall nearby that he could lean against until he was supposed to meet Y/N.

“Peter! Hey! Sorry, am I late?”

At the sound of her voice, he straightened and turned, searching for her. When he finally saw her pushing her way through the people loitering outside the entrance, he shook his head.

“I was really early,” he reassured her.

She finally popped out of the crowd and into the empty space beside him, smiling. “Okay, good. How long have you been standing here? It’s freezing out!”

Y/N was decked out in the same winter jacket as the first time they’d met. She’d added a beanie, scarf, and a different pair of gloves now that Boston’s winter weather had really bared its claws. Peter shuffled a little, tucking his hands back into his pockets. The cold bothered him less than some, but tonight it bit at him like it had teeth. Even so, her presence was like a warm beam of light, and just joining her made him feel a little more optimistic about the days ahead. He wasn’t sure how she made him feel better without even doing anything, but he didn’t care.

“Not too long,” he replied, though it had been almost an hour since he’d arrived. He hadn’t wanted to be late, and he knew that if he’d gone home after his shift he’d fall asleep. His boss had been ruthless since he was late again last week.

Appeased, Y/N nodded and looped her arm with his, pulling him towards the entrance to the rink. “I have to admit,” she said, glancing at him as they joined the end of the line, “I’m not actually good at this.”

“At what?”

“Ice skating. I haven’t been in years, not since I moved here from New York.”

Peter paused, pulling his gaze away from the skaters he’d been watching to focus back on her. “You used to live in New York?”

Y/N nodded, smiling a little as she hummed in confirmation. “Yeah, I grew up there. I moved here for college, but I ended up withdrawing last year. MIT just wasn’t for me.”

He smiled back. It was the first real smile he’d had all day, and it felt good. Life’s burdens suddenly felt a little bit lighter knowing that they have something in common. The knot unraveled even more.

“I grew up in Queens,” he told her. “You?”

Her smile grew wide as the line stopped, and she let go of his arm to face him fully. “No kidding! Me too! Where’d you go to school?”

“Mid—”

“Midtown Tech?” she finished, grabbing his arm again with both hands. “Me too! Wait, when did you graduate?”

The lump in his throat returned and Peter swallowed thickly. He tried to keep his face neutral, but he felt his jaw clench against the tears that welled up in his eyes despite his best efforts. He looked away from her then, staring back at the rink bordered by string lights and families crowding around the benches.

“Um, I ended up just getting my GED. There was a lot going on my senior year and I just…” He trailed off as the lump choked him, and Y/N’s grip on his arm turned gentle.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

He nodded, grateful for her empathy, but a little embarrassed nonetheless.

“I graduated three years ago,” she chimed in. “You know, that year with all the Spider-Man and Mysterio stuff? I remember that everyone’s projects that year were about that. Someone even started a club to try and figure out his identity. It was crazy. It did get old after a while, though.”

So that was how he recognized her. She’d been in his chemistry class. Y/N had been the girl who always sat by the window, first by choice and then by instruction. They’d never talked, though he’d always admired the projects that she did.

Scoffing lightly, Peter forced a small smile. “That sounds crazy. That’s the year I dropped out. That must’ve all happened after I left.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Y/N’s voice was soft and she didn’t say anything more as the line moved up again. They were next, and when they reached the booth, Peter reached for his wallet. Money was tight, but he knew that May would be chewing him out if he didn’t at least offer to pay.

Y/N shook her head at him and turned to the teen behind the counter. She handed him cash and he passed them their skates without another word. It was odd that they had to pay for a work party, Peter thought, but he didn’t say anything. Maybe she had to pay to bring him as her plus one, and he didn’t want to make her think he was ungrateful that she’d paid. He wanted this to go well.

Once on the rink, Peter realized that Y/N truly hadn’t been lying about her skills. While he hadn’t been skating since he was a kid, it felt a lot like swinging from one of his webs, and he picked it up after only a few minutes. Y/N, on the other hand, wobbled and tripped her way around each lap. She didn’t improve even after several trips around the edge of the rink.

“I’m really sorry,” she laughed as he carefully guided her with both hands.

Peter skated backwards, his senses on high alert as he helped maneuver her around the other couples and the kids skating at full-speed. “It’s okay,” he answered. She almost fell again, but he helped steady her, crouching down with her as she regained her center of balance. “It’s not your fault they chose ice skating. Have you seen your boss yet?”

“Who?” She glanced up from watching her feet, met his eyes, then looked back down again as one of her feet started to turn out a little too far. “Oh, right. Um, no, I haven’t seen her.”

“We could take a break. Maybe she’s by the hot chocolate stand.”

Her expression was nothing but relief and he laughed as she let go of his hand to hang onto the thick wooden wall. “You’re an angel, Peter, truly. An angel sent down from heaven.”

He laughed and after a moment, he switched to skate beside her and continued leading her around the ice until they reached the exit closest to the small snack bar. After taking off their skates, they made their way over and joined the line. Peter stayed quiet so she could focus on looking for her boss, but Y/N simply checked the time on her phone, pulled out her wallet, and looked ahead at the menu.

“Any luck finding her?” he finally asked.

Y/N ducked her head down, suddenly interested in aligning the ends of her scarf, and Peter felt suspicion tighten in his chest. “Huh? Oh. Um…”

“Y/N?” he prompted, and she sighed.

“I lied,” she replied, lifting her head. She winced and clutched her phone and wallet against her coat, drawing in and away from him. “I’m really sorry. I don’t actually have a work party here tonight.”

All of Peter’s senses dialed up to high alert and he frowned, glancing around. “Then why ask me to come with you to one? Why invite a complete stranger to a fake party? Is this just for fun, so you can tell all your friends and laugh about me later?”

“No! No, I would never laugh about you, Peter! You’re great, I just–” She let out a frustrated growl and stepped forward as the line moved, then quickly shook her head and stepped out of the queue. Peter followed her as she pushed her way through the crowds toward the edge of the cordoned-off area. Y/N stopped near the barrier of evergreen trees that separated the temporary ice skating rink from the rest of the city.

She turned to face him, sighing heavily and dropping her hands to her sides. “You were cute, okay? And I really wanted to ask you out on a date but I had just spilled hot chocolate all over you and I panicked. I made up a story in the hopes that it would make you feel bad and come out with me instead of saying no.”

Peter stared at her for a moment, his hands shoved in his pockets, then looked around. This area of the rink was less crowded. A trash can near the corner of the makeshift cafe and an unoccupied picnic table dulled the Christmas cheer, making the world feel a little colder, a little grayer, and Peter suddenly felt a little less like being out and about. If he hadn’t been so excited for the date with Y/N, he would’ve gone home and studied some more to distract himself from the holidays. He had friends from class, sure, and people that he talked with at work, but his past and his present made it hard for him to celebrate like he used to, like he wanted to. The knot tightened again, slowly tangling around itself and making his stomach clench with grief as he tried to find the words to say.

“So you wanted a sympathy date?” he finally asked, his voice quiet.

Y/N fervently shook her head. “No. No! God, no.” She held her gloved hands up, her phone still held against her palm with one thumb. “No, I wanted a real date with you, Peter. I just don’t normally ask out strangers and my mind went blank. I didn’t even really process what I’d said and done until after we’d gone our separate ways. I am so, so sorry. If you want to go home, I totally understand. I’ll buy you a hot chocolate and whatever else you want and we can part ways and you’ll never have to see or hear from me again.”

Her embarrassment wasn’t subtle and, ironically, Peter felt his gut twist with sympathy of his own. He understood what it was like to not know what to say or do. He felt that way all the time—most of the time, actually. He stared down at his shoes for a minute. The slush created by the outdoor heaters has left a wet shine on his boots, and he’s thankful that May raised him to buy a good pair of shoes that would keep up with all his walking. His feet would be cold and sore by now if she hadn’t drilled that thought into his brain.

“I think I’ll take you up on that hot chocolate,” he said after a few moments, and Y/N nodded. Her eyes were glossy with tears and Peter could see the reflection of the string lights on the evergreens in them. His stomach dropped a little further. The knot rolled to the bottom, heavy and filled with too many twists and turns for him to unravel alone.

“We should get back in line then,” she murmured.

Peter nodded, following her. They joined the end of the line, keeping some distance between them, and both of them kept their hands in their pockets as they stood together in silence. All around them, the cheerful activities continued on, but the joy didn’t quite reach Peter’s heart.

Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer and he turned to look at her. “Do you want to go for a walk after this?”

Y/N lifted her head, her eyebrows slightly furrowed. “What?”

“Once we get our hot chocolate,” Peter nodded towards the cafe, which was now only a few feet away, “Do you want to go for a walk? One of my co-workers said that there’s supposed to be a bunch of cool lights nearby. It’s supposed to be one of the best light displays on the east coast. It won like four Guinness World Records.”

She blinked, frowned, and then shook her head. “Wait, you actually want to stay? You’re not just going to go home after all this?”

Peter shrugged. He didn’t know how to explain everything going through his head. It would take too long and reveal too much, and he’d never talked to anyone about what had happened at the Statue of Liberty all those years ago. So, he’d start with the small stuff: work, classes, Christmas. Hot cocoa. Christmas lights. Midtown Tech and New York City.

After a moment, Y/N nodded, her expression still slightly unsure. “Okay. I’d like that, Peter.”

“Me too,” he replied.

The knot loosened.

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

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fixfoxnox · 1 year

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GOG I got a brainrot about the anima AU, like

What if there was an anima hunter? Like someone who SPECIFICALLY takes animas for weird reasons

And then Roach is somehow captured by said anima hunter, and this hunter does like…bad things to Roach and Ghost feels the pain Roach goes through constantly bc they’re bonded, and Soap is helpless to Simon’s pain and both are in pain together bc they can’t find Roach

ANGST FOR DAYZ

(not a req, just brain food btw)

Anima AU has so many opportunities for good angst, I've barely even tapped the surface of what's possible and I didn't even get to fully dive in to everything surrounding Anima rejection in the last oneshot

I have a great many ideas regarding Soap in the AU, like him being taken temporarily on a mission and Roach feels helpless because, unlike with Ghost, he can't feel what Soap feels and he doesn't have any idea where he is. So even though Soap isn't Roach's bonded, Roach feels like he's failing/failed as an Anima because his job his to protect his people and whether they're bonded or not, Soap is one of his people.

But also with the latest oneshot something I didn't dive into there but tried to hint at is the fact that the year apart and Ghost saying what he said is the reason why Roach stays invisible so much. Its because even once they've made up that thought that he's taking Ghost away from a normal life still linger in the back of his mind, so he hides himself so that there will at least be an illusion of normalcy.

The anima hunter idea is interesting. I could see maybe like an organization who try to kidnap and break Anima to turn them into weapons because they are essentially an immortal and super-powered soldier. The only problem with it is that when Anima turn themselves invisible they essentially become like Ghosts, so it would be super hard to actually hold them.

That being said it is very possible that in modern day there would have been developments made to hold Anima. Like something that manages to latch on to them or somehow keep them in one place. Was thinking about like sound as a weakness for the Anima because even when invisible they can still hear/see things and they would likely have better hearing. So like major sound pulses could potentially fuck with them enough to nullify their powers.

So just imagining the team doing their thing and they go into a room and are just deafened because its an Anima trap. The guys come in and put like headphones on Roach that are designed to just launch these insane noises and vibrations at him and everyone is just helpless to watch as Roach is carried away.

And its tough for Ghost because he can feel Roach, but not in the same was Roach can feel him. So he can feel the discomfort and the panic from Roach but he had no idea where his Anima is or what's actually happening to him. And naturally he's panicked because Anima and their bonded aren't meant to be apart for long periods of time, especially not forcefully apart.

So he's panicking and Soap is panicking because Roach is gone and Ghost is panicking and it falls to Gaz and Price to keep the two from spiraling while trying to find Roach.

And, when they find Roach, Ghost ends up taking like weeks off because with how long Roach has been under the noises and vibrations not only is his hearing temporarily damaged until his body manages to heal itself, but he's also jumpy and going to be impacted by any slight vibration/sound. Soap tries to keep working but only lasts like two days before Price sends him on leave anyways because he's pretty much spending all of his time on the phone checking on Roach anyways

I've mentioned it in the discord, but if we really want to get into some Anima AU angst then I need to start writing an AleRudy half of the anima AU because 😈 I have many ideas

#thoughts with luke #you asked luke #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #anima au

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dat1angel · 7 months

Text

To the Victor Goes the Spoils

Somehow, by the watchers or fate or whatever twisted gods threw them into these games, not only had Jimmy not died first, but he had made it to the final two. Not that Jimmy would know how momentous the feat really was, the losers never remembered. But Scott did, and god he was so proud of his husband. Even if it meant that Jimmy was currently staring him down, calculating how best to kill him.

It had come down to the two of them.

The two of them. Always the two of them. Flower fields and hand built wooden walls and a pair of houses dug into stone across from each other and poppies and nights spent in warm arms and that stupid misspelled pufferfish and green then yellow then red red red–

It had come down to the two of them. They had decided to bring themselves down to one hour each and have a fair duel. Whoever died first would be out of time and whoever remained would be the victor.

That’s how they came to be here, facing off in the same place Bdubs and Skizz had their fight on day one, armor tightly fastened and swords gripped in hand. Eyeing each other as they looked for weaknesses and waited for who was going to make the first move.

It was Jimmy, impatient and impulsive, who made the first strike, lunging at Scott and swinging at his left side. Scott raised his shield, blocking the attack flawlessly, and returned a strike of his own. Jimmy tried to dodge but wasn’t fast enough, his arm getting grazed by the edge of Scott’s blade. He hissed in pain but shook it off, going for a second try at landing a hit on Scott. This time he succeeded, managing to make a gash in Scott’s shoulder. Scott let out a shout of pain and took a few steps back. Jimmy saw this and continued to keep the pressure up, taking a step forward for each of Scott’s steps back. Scott threw his shield up, trying his best to keep from taking further damage.

Jimmy’s sword swung towards him. Scott braced for the hit and, when the sword collided with the shield, pushed upwards against the force of the attack. Jimmy was knocked off balance and suddenly Scott had the advantage. Scott pushed and struck, the offensive suiting him well. Jimmy blocked and backed up, trying to get a break from Scott’s relentless attacks, but he was struggling. It wasn’t long until the opportunity Scott needed presented itself. Jimmy stepped back but his foot slipped and he stumbled. He was off balance and vulnerable to attack. Scott could do it. He could strike right now and take the win. But…

Scott hesitates. Because in that moment he was no longer facing down enemy Jimmy of the Bad Boys but his husband, Jimmy of the Hobbits. Gone were the shades resting on his face, leaving warm brown eyes shining up at him. His leather biker jacket was replaced by a Captain America suit. The sight stole the breath from Scott’s lungs and in that moment he just couldn’t bring himself to strike.

Jimmy, however, had no such qualms, taking advantage of Scott’s moment of hesitation to thrust his sword forward and straight through Scott’s chest. Scott gasped and slowly looked down at the wound as blood began to drip down his front then back to the man whose hand still gripped the hilt of the offending weapon.

Something they don’t tell you about these death games is that you don’t have to be the last one alive to be the winner, you just have to be the last one not fatally wounded. If your opponent has suffered an injury that they cannot recover from then you are crowned the victor regardless of if said opponent has actually passed yet. After all, with no way your opponent can survive their wound, what difference does a few minutes make? What happened next, Scott recognized both from experiencing it in Last Life and watching it in Double Life.

A warm golden glow began to emanate from Jimmy's chest and slowly spread outward to engulf his whole body. The glow then began to migrate upwards, towards his head and then above it, finally coming to rest as a crown perfectly fitted to Jimmy’s head. Scott couldn’t help but feel mesmerized. It was one thing to experience it, but it was a whole other thing to see it happen. He was broken from his trance as a regal chiming of bells sounded throughout the world, officially announcing the game’s end.

The effects of winning weren’t over for Jimmy just yet, however. To an observer, Jimmy now stood there, staring ahead but not seeing as his eyes lit up that same golden color from before. To Jimmy, it was like living a thousand lifetimes all at once. He was overwhelmed as his mind was flooded with sounds and images of him. Him and his friends. Allies, lovers, enemies, strangers. A blonde haired imp, their life forces bound, a ranch, goat horns, burning, wardens and revenge, dying first. Further back, a group of five, walls and towers made of cobblestone, spy-glasses, trust circles, breaking trust, being exiled, dying first. Further still, cyan hair, poppies, promises, cottage homes in a flower field, burning a red banner, alliances with the desert dwellers, a pufferfish- no, a pufferish, a bunker, explosions, dying first. Dying first and leaving him behind, grieving and alone. Jimmy shuddered back into awareness and he was finally released from the trenches of his mind.

Scott, staring into his lover's eyes, could see the moment he remembered. Watched as confusion, then realization, then horror flashed across his face in waves as he processed the new memories, looked at the scene in front of him, his husband, the sword in his husband's chest, his arm holding the sword, and realized what it all meant. Scott simply smiled, even as tears welled in both of their eyes, and brought a shaky hand up to gently cup his husband’s cheek.

“There you are, Petal.”

That was all it took to send them both crashing to their knees, Jimmy’s hands coming up to grip Scott and holding on as if he would be gone if he let go for even a second.

“Poppy,” Jimmy’s voice was watery, “Oh Scott, what have I done?”

“What you had to,” Scott’s voice was quiet as the last of his strength began to seep away from him, “What I wasn’t strong enough to.”

“Oh Poppy, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be,” Scott poured as much conviction as he could into the words, “If this is what it took to get you back? I would do it again a thousand times over. I don’t regret this.”

Whatever response Jimmy was going to give was cut off as Scott began to fade. His skin became pale and see-through and Jimmy’s grip began to slip through his lover’s arms.

“No!!” Jimmy cried out as he desperately tried to hold on tighter to his husband. “ I just got you back, I can’t lose you again!”

Scott smiled and let out a weak laugh, “I’ll see you on the outside, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

With the last of his strength, Scott pushed himself up to bring his husband into a kiss. Jimmy let his eyes fall closed as he sank into the lip contact, enjoying their first kiss in far too long. When he opened his eyes again he was alone.

Jimmy choked on a sob. His arms that were cradling his dying lover just seconds prior came to wrap around himself as he screamed and cried and cursed at the unfairness of it all. The spectral victors of the past watched on in sympathy.

Jimmy remembered what Scott had said, though. I’ll see you on the outside. He scrambled to pull himself together, fumbling with his server directory in his haste to return to the main hub. Upon arrival he searched frantically for his husband, but he was nowhere to be found.

~~<*>~~

Smajor1995 has joined the server

Jimmy froze when he saw the notification. Before he knew it he had taken to the skies and was flying as fast as he could towards Chromia, leaving the build he was working on half finished. It had been a week since the end of that infernal death game and Jimmy had not seen hide nor hair of Scott. The most he got was a claim from Martyn saying that his teammate had spawned in the hub and was immediately approached by some people wearing NoxCrew uniforms. They had exchanged a few frantic words then dragged Scott off somewhere. From what he gathered, nobody else had seen Scott after that either. Until now, that is.

Jimmy could feel his heart pounding the closer he got to the colorful empire. He landed with a stumble, taking some damage as he was too frantic to bother with the slowing technique. He immediately took off, running through the empire looking for a glimpse of that familiar shock of cyan hair and the explosion of color that was his clothes.

“Scott?” Jimmy called as he ran, “Scoooott? Sco-”. Jimmy cut himself off as he finally laid eyes on the man he came to find. Relief crashed over Jimmy in a tidal wave. A week of worrying and thinking up worst case scenarios put to rest at the sight of his husband safe and sound in front of him.

“Scott!” Jimmy cried, launching himself into a sprint towards the man. Scott barely had time to turn towards Jimmy before he was being barreled over in a hug. Scott wasted no time in bringing his arms up to wrap Jimmy in a hug of his own. They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other close and taking comfort in the proximity.

“I’m so sorry,” Scott spoke into Jimmy’s chest, “I didn’t mean to just disappear like that. There was an issue with MCC and they called an all hands on deck and I tried to tell them I had to wait-”

“It’s okay,” Jimmy cut off Scott’s rambling, “You’re here now, that’s all that matters”

Scott lifted his head to meet Jimmy’s eyes.

“I love you,” Scott said with insistence, like if he didn’t say it in that moment he would never get another chance

“I love you too,” Jimmy replied and with the same level of insistence Jimmy pulled Scott into a kiss. It was enthusiastic and desperate, like Jimmy was a man drowning and Scott was air, and when they parted they were both slightly panting.

“God, I missed you.” Scotts voice was watery.

“I’m sorry for forgetting.”

“That wasn’t your fault, there was nothing we could have done about that.”

“That doesn’t change that I left you alone for so long.”

“I’m not alone now.”

“No, you’re not,” Jimmy smiled, “and I’m never leaving you alone again.”

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lloydfrontera · 2 years

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I just love that Kim Suho is the reformed Lloyd frontera and Lloyd frontera is the reformed Kim Suho, and now you know what? Your kimi no nawa au makes so much sense man, Suho and Lloyd really are........

it just??? it's so??? i literally sort of screamed when i got to that part i swear-

honestly... kinda made sense? except it also felt like a plot twist? idk it always felt a bit strange that lloyd and suho's lifes paralleled each other so much but i always attributed that to, well, plot being plotty y'know? it could've been a coincidence, meant to highlight the protagonist's qualities and characteristics and while it was very convinient it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. it's normal for isekai novels to have protegonists strangely well suited for the novel they wake up to. it's a common trope. but the reveal that kim suho is lloy frontera reincarnated? that this was fate deciding lloyd gets another chance to be a better son, a better brother, a better friend and a better person? it recontextualizes everything.

suddenly it's not just suho choosing to be kind and a good person despite everything he went through (altho, i do think that's still very much part of the narrative, after all he did lose all memories of his previous life so this doesn't take away from suho's own agency but it does add a new layer to it), now it's also lloyd choosing to be better person that he was before, it's the tiny part of him that still remembers his regrets pushing him to be kinder, to be responsible, to be better. it's correcting the mistakes he'd made and repairing the damage he'd done.

it's very poignant in the way only a reincarnation story can be

AND ALSO YEAH I KNOW i joked in that post that there was a point in that au where lloyd and suho start blurring their edges together because of spending so much time pretending to be the other but this takes it to a whole new level. it sorta makes it fall apart but i'm choosing not to acknowledge that. i can handwave it just like bk moon did with everything happening just because javier made a wish upon a star.

it could be a glitch in the universe that recognizes they're the same soul in different bodies but keeps mixing them up. maybe i could even connect it by making it so it's javier who causes the glitch in the first place. maybe lloyd does something to him that upsets him but someone tells him to "be patient. someday he'll grow up. as time passes he'll be a new person" and tiny javier who's tired of being told to be the bigger person whenever lloyd and he fight just grumbles "well i wish he'd be a new person already"

and if it just so happens that a shooting star crosses the sky at that moment, well... he is the protagonist after all. the world does tend to bend itself in order for him to be at its center.

#hey i got an ask #lunacurse #the greatest estate developer spoilers #the greatest estate developer #lloyd frontera #kim suho #kimi no na wa au #i'm so sorry i literally cannot shut up ajskldjla #god can you imagine if tiny javier realizes it was his wish that made it so lloyd and suho keep exchanging places #like he's more ready to believe it was him wishing something that made it happen than adult javier would be #but also he'd have to grow up knowing it was him that made his friend's life way more complicated #and he can't even bring himself to truly regret it! because that's how he got his best friend! but it's also very hard for lloyd and suho!#he's very conflicted :(#tged

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saltyladynightmare · 1 year

Text

Jiliu AU 9.2

Beginning, Previous, Next, Masterlist

A/N:

Ori'Ana : mando'a/basic, a mix of Ori'vod, and Anakin, basically naming him Older Brother Anakin, just as the suffix -'ika makes 'younger Brother' from Vod'ika

/italics/ : thoughts, emphasis

bold : talking though the Force, because why not

Chapter 9 is not completely finished, but chapter 10 is an idea. If anyone has any ideas for scenes in which the Vod'e are learning how to use the Force, please feel free to contact me or leave a comment. So far, all of my ideas involve various troopers launching themselves into walls when they jump/run/do something too fast. It gets monotonous after a while.

Warnings:

Anakin is a lonely string bean. He also has no trust in the Jedi, because I was salty when i started writing this, and must stick to my guns. Mentioned mistreatment of the Coruscant Guard.

~~~~~~

Fox commed at 0003. When Anakin accepted the comm, he was unsurprised to find it was only audio. Fox was using the comm built into his helmet; the one with top tier GAR encryptions, assigned to each Clone Commander. Exactly as careful as Anakin had hoped.

"General Skywalker," Fox greeted.

"Commander Fox," Anakin returned easily. If titles were what Fox wanted to use right then, than Anakin had no problems letting him lead the conversation in a direction that would make him most comfortable. "I'll warn you now; this isn't a social comm."

"Your earlier comm conveyed that, sir," Fox assured gruffly.

Oh, good. "I know you're busy, so I'll do my best to keep this brief," Anakin started. "Due to..." whatever in the name of the Force had happened, "...an incident on my last mission, I'm on medical leave for the foreseeable future."

"What?" Ah, there's Ori'vod Fox, as Anakin knew and adored. Never mind that Anakin was a little under nine years older than him. Elder Sibling was a mindset, not a birth order, even if he and Fox had a weird tendency of tossing that particular title back and forth like a live grenade.

"I'm fine," Anakin stated. "I'm not dying, or even lightly maimed. I'm moving around on my own, and I'm not on bed rest." Anakin inhaled to continue, but hesitated. He cursed himself. This is Fox. Anakin can tell him this kind of thing without being judged for more than being a little bit of an idiot. He was pretty sure. But really, even if he was wrong and Fox did judge him, what dignity did Anakin have left? "I'm currently confined to a heavily shielded room in the Healing Halls, because the Force is suddenly excruciatingly loud and my body responds appropriately, but physically okay."

"Appropri—you're saying that your body is acting like its taking sonic damage?"

Anakin grinned. "Yes. Good news is: there is a possible treatment option, but I'm probably not going to see results for a few days if it does actually work." It'd work. Anakin would make sure of it, even it meant hemorrhaging energy into the Force itself. He would not stay in this room for a moment longer than necessary. "In the mean time, I've been confined to a heavily shielded room with limited access to the outside, and a To Do list longer than a venator-class cruiser. I was wondering if the Guard was able or willing to assist my men in getting some of the things on my list completed."

Fox went quiet for several beats. Anakin bit his lip to force himself to remain silent, giving Fox enough time to process.

It didn't take him long. "You'll want Guide," Fox stated.

"If he's willing," Anakin agreed.

Fox concurred, "If he's willing." The crackle of flimsy shuffling fizzed through the admittedly shoddy speakers of Anakin's make-shift comm. "I can arrange for four Vod'e to be available at oh-six hundred today."

"Excellent." Anakin hauled his aching body up onto the chair behind him, and reached for one of the closer, mostly blank datapads. "If you could comm me with the names of the four, I'll wright up instructions to send them."

"Will do."

Nerves rolled in Anakin's gut, but he shoved them away. Fox is reasonable, and if he turns Anakin away, that's on him, he reminded himself. "While we're talking," he started forcefully casual, "does the Guard need anything? We're aiming mostly for medical supplies and food, but I want to introduce Torrent to little bit of everything."

Fox hummed contemplatingly. Anakin tapped a free finger against the datapad. Fox didn't need to think about what the Guard needed; he knew because he was a good Commander. He was staling because, like most competent people who'd been spurned before, Fox was hesitant to ask for anything like assistance.

"Ten crates of food, and three crates of medical supplies," he said eventually.

"No problem." Anakin typed the requests into the 'pad one-handed, making a note to triple that if at all possible, and maybe see about getting them a quick sweet snack they could stash in their utility belts. It was the least he could do.

While he typed this, and Fox filed his mountains of datawork, something pings softly on Fox's side of the comm. A moment later, Fox told Anakin, "Guide has agreed to act as a guide."

Anakin grinned. "Well, that's one thing off my mind. And the other three?"

"Pending."

"Ok." Anakin thought about ending the conversation there with a reminder to comm him when Fox had confirmation. Something in him rebelled at the idea. It wasn't a big deal to stay on the line with Fox, it had been awhile since they had talked. And, if Anakin was honest with himself, he really didn't want to be alone right then anyway. If Fox wants to end the comm, then he can, Anakin decided. Until then, they could sit in silence.

Absently humming to himself, Anakin pulled his To Do lists toward himself, and woke up the one with his personal long term list to add a note to talk to Rex about supporting the Guard the next time Torrent got leave on Coruscant.

The idea was to not only help the Guard so they could actually get a few eight hour sleep cycles in a row if they so chose, but also to ensure Torrent understood the Guard were not data processors, or flimsy pushers.

Not that Anakin had heard Torrent's opinion on the Guard, or if they even had an opinion. Still.

Anakin had heard more than a few troopers' thoughts of them, and it had not been good. Best nip that at the bud, really. Especially when such opinions came from ignorance and misinformation.

"The other three have gotten in contact with me," Fox stated abruptly. Anakin twitched in surprise, before blinking at the comm in his mech hand. Right. He was still on a comm. "They've agreed to provide assistance. Sending their comm codes now."

The comm vibrated in Anakin's hand, metal against metal, signifying an incoming text comm. A quick check shows the new comm code, all helpfully labeled.

"I have them," Anakin tapped the tiny screen with his thumb to save the codes.

"All four of them are currently available, General," Fox stated.

Ah. Time to get to work, it seemed.

"Understood, Fox. I'll leave you to your datawork," Anakin assured the Commander. "Hopefully, I'll see you before I get shipped out again, should everything conclude as expected."

"Yes, sir."

And Fox is done for the day. Commander Fox will keep going because he must, but Vod Fox needed either his allotted five hours of sleep or several cups of kaf before he could produce anything like social skills. Understandable. In his place Anakin would be a walking corpse all the time instead of only in the last six hours of his thirty-two hour shift.

"K'oyacyi, Fox." Anakin hit the button that'd end the call before the exhausted man could reply, hoping against logic the man would get some rest some time soon. Stay alive, Fox, stay alive.

Anakin breathed deep, held it, then let it out slowly as he set the comm on the table top.

Fox was a grown man, he'd live this long, he'd survive a few more days if he had anything at all to say about it; this Anakin knew.

Trusting this was, as always, more difficult than Anakin could say. He did it anyway. He must.

Anakin sighed, and picked up the comm again.

He tapped the screen a few times, calling up the comm codes Fox had sent him, then selected the one that looked the most familiar.

Hopefully, this would be Guide.

The comm rings once, then clicks to signify it had been answered.

"CT-5155."

Anakin smiled at the crisp acknowledgment. "Good morning, Guide. Eat anything interesting recently?"

Guide perked right up. "Ori'Ana!"

"Upani," Anakin returned warmly. "Fox said you had agreed to assist my men in our endeavors?"

"Torrent, right? Yes, I did," Guide affirmed. "Do you have plan for tomorrow, sir?"

"Less plan, more To Do List. If I give you the comm code of the other three volunteers, could you add them to this call?" Anakin smiled sheepishly. "My...device is a little limited."

"No problem!"

In short order, Guide linked in three other Vod'e.

Immediately, in the manner of siblings everywhere disturbed by another particularly daring sibling, they started complaining.

"What in the name of the Force is this supposed to be?" It wasn't until the unspoken threat crackled through the tiny speakers on his comm that Anakin realized exactly who he had on comm.

"A debriefing!" Anakin chirped.

The comm went silent. Then—

"Commender?"

"Sir?"

"Ori'Ana!"

The three Vod'e try to out speak the others, but it was Guide's near demented giggling that won out in the end. Anakin grinned.

"The one and only! It's good to know you three are still among the living," he greeted. "My understanding is that the four of you have volunteered to act as guides for my men as they run errands?"

"We did, sir, although I hadn't known the Favor Commander Fox mentioned was to you," Ka'ahk stated.

Faze, Guide, and who Anakin could only assume to be Slip, Guide's newest not-so-shiny partner after his last one had learned all he could from Guide about the lower levels of Coruscant, named such for his ability slip out of any sort of sticky situation Guide might fling himself, and thus his partner, into, murmured their agreement.

Heh. "Classic Fox move there," Anakin observed. "Now, as I told Guide earlier, I have a To Do list I both need and want completed before I ship out—"

The next few hours are spent going over what, exactly, the four Guardsmen would be helping his men with over the next few days. When they need to sign off to get their scheduled five hours of sleep—and, oh, did he both await and dread the moment Kix caught wind of that little detail— Anakin began messaging and comming his lower level connections to arrange for a drop of disguises that would make the men less obviously clones by midday.

That done, he messaged the four Guard Vod'e with the coordinates of the drop, and the instructions on how to get them. Then, he messaged his Command Staff with the details of what he had done.

Breathing in deep, Anakin forced himself to set his comm down. He checked his To Do lists, and grumbled at finding there really wasn't much more he could do at—he glanced at the clock and cringed—0347 in the morning.

A quick evaluation of himself revealed he was /way/ too wound up to even consider sleeping right then.

Okay, now what?

He plopped his chin on his palm, eyes wondering around the walls the light from his datapad barely touched. He could work on the mousedroid, or stretch some. Except he didn't really want to do either of those things.

So what else—ah. His eyes land on the neat pile of holocrons in the center of the table.

Rex had left him the list of questions he couldn't answer before, right?

He looked at the clock again.

Yeah, he had time.

With a flex of his fingers the holocron on top lifted up and came to hover before him. A twist in the force here, and a press there, and its seals cracked open, allowing greenish white light to escape. It swirled gently, then twisted up and around into a humanoid figure in armor.

Anakin sat back. "Hello, General."

"Greetings, General."

#jiliu au #start wars prequels #star wars #clone wars #cc 1010 #commander fox #fox #original clone troopers (mentioned)#anakin skywalker #anakin is half force #anakin needs a hug #anakin has insomnia #holocrons #army of light #force bonds

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

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5 times Merlin does something that requires a considerable amount of strength;

+1 time the gang has time to actually bring it up.

Everyone is baffled, half distracted by Merlin’s surprising buffness and half amused by Arthur’s gay panic:

The clearing fills with the sounds of a brutal fight.

The Knights of Camelot, along with their King, had given up on trying to figure out how bandits always managed to find them in the woods. It seemed impossible for there to be so many mercenary groups that it was just coincidence for them to stumble upon each other so often, but equally, the knights moved quietly and always covered their tracks well, so... yeah, who knows.

The point is, they’re outnumbered three to one, and all of them were starting to regret not listening to Merlin’s earlier suggestion that they keep riding for another hour or so; their camp was destroyed and the fight was tiring them out.

Three to one weren’t bad odds, especially for knights with such a high level of skill, but it was exhausting and time consuming and they just wanted it to be over. Merlin was having similar thoughts as he stumbles through the middle of the crowd, trying to get out of the way. He was keeping an eye on them of course, but his friends were winning so his magical intervention wasn’t really needed; he was just annoyed that Arthur was almost certainly going to make him clear everything up afterwards.

His attention is suddenly caught when Percival’s voice rings out across the clearing:

“Merlin! Behind you!”

All of the knights’ gazes whip to the servant when they hear the giant’s yell, and they all abandon their own battles to step towards him despite knowing that they were too far away to be able to help in time. The servant takes in a sharp breath at Percival’s warning, becoming suddenly aware of a fast-moving presence behind him; he forms a fist and turns, swinging blindly with all his strength and following through even when his knuckles crunch with surprising accuracy against the temple of a bandit.

The man, not expecting the rapid attack, doesn’t have time to move out of the way, and his head jerks to the side, his entire body following as if an afterthought. He crumples to the floor gracelessly, unconscious before his head makes contact with the trampled undergrowth.

Merlin hisses at the pain bursting through his knuckles and up into his wrist, shaking his hand out as he steps over the bandit’s still form without even blinking, back to focusing on attempting to find a tree to sit behind and sulk, as if nothing had happened.

The knights only have a fraction of a second to freeze in shock before they’re dragged back to their own fights, forced to defend themselves lest they get skewered.

The battle only lasts a few more minutes; despite being outnumbered, the knights far outmatch the bandits in skill (and sufficient armour) and Merlin was correct in his assumption that they wouldn’t need any of his DIY luck, which is a good thing really, considering how much his hand is throbbing. He peeks his head around the tree when things go suspiciously quiet, getting up and making his way to the abandoned bag of medical supplies when he sees the knights victorious.

The servant runs a quick gaze over them, taking stock of any potential injuries as he makes his way through the clearing, injured hand clenched tightly and held to his chest. He may have knocked the bandit out, but that just meant that the punch was hard enough to do damage to his hand as well as the other guy’s head. When he finds nothing more than the odd bruise on the others, he grabs a roll of bandages for himself, quickly wrapping his hand almost painfully tight, before turning to Arthur with a scowl:

“I told you we were too close to the road, I told you we should’ve kept on going. But do you ever listen to me? No, because you’re-”

He’s cut off by The King stepping towards him and taking his bandaged hand, cradling it gently and looking to Merlin in concern:

“Merlin, are you alright?”

Merlin just rolls his eyes and huffs, snatching his hand back and retreating to check on the horses, thankfully tied and uninjured at the edge of the clearing:

“No, my hand fucking hurts, because, surprisingly enough, these idiots have skulls almost as thick as yours. We need to move camps, like I said earlier. Prat.”

Arthur frowns, looking down to Merlin’s unconscious bandit at his feet, and then glancing back to the other knights, who all just shrug with wide eyes. The King sighs, reluctantly nodding at Merlin’s assertion as he stares up at the darkening sky, deciding that Merlin must’ve... hit a pressure point or... something:

“Everyone pack up, I want to be moving on in three minutes.”

Merlin had foregone his jacket and rolled his sleeves up in the surprising Spring heatwave.

Which was a sight in itself.

But what really made the knights look twice (I mean... Arthur was just outright staring, but Leon had long since glared the others into not mentioning The King’s little... crush) was the way the supposedly wimpy servant had two sets of chainmail folded on one shoulder, his arm curled over them to keep them balanced, and a few odd bits of mismatched armour clutched in his other hand. He was making his way from the training field up to the castle, presumably to find an empty room to sit quietly and clean them.

Elyan waves at him across the field, the movement just about catching the servant’s gaze as he twists around, flashing a bright, sunny grin in place of waving back.

Arthur gulps, eyes drawn to the vein standing out from Merlin’s uncovered neck; apparently the heat had encouraged him to abandon his neckerchief as well. The King takes a deep breath, sending a scowl Merlin’s way to cover his... surprise, holding in a smirk when the servant just rolls his eyes and turns back to the castle.

His stride was strong, and though his arms were straining against the weight, he looked entirely unbothered, not even breathing deeply as he picks up his pace, jogging up the citadel steps.

Training had all but stopped at this point, the roundtable knights staring in confusion as Merlin carefully pulled the door open, making sure he wouldn’t drop anything, before nudging the door shut again with his hip. Gwaine was the first to break the silence, quirking one of his eyebrows up as he speaks in a slightly surprised tone:

“Didn’t know he had it in him. Wearing one set, when the weight is evenly distributed, is hard enough, let alone carrying two sets. And armour. Up steps. Huh.”

Arthur clears his throat, looking away with a slight blush as he asserts:

“Yes, well, knights carry the same weight in armour and weapons everyday, if not more. If you’re that impressed Sir Gwaine, perhaps you should work on your strength.”

Gwaine turns to him with a smirk, but Leon’s warning glare stops him from teasing, or saying anything else that could be considered treasonous. Instead, he rolls his eyes at the first knight before humming non-committedly and pointing his sword at The King:

“That, Princess, sounds like a challenge.”

Arthur, blush forgotten, looks up with raised eyebrows and a chuckle, noting with satisfaction the way the other knights spread out to form a circle around the two of them, swords lowered and expectant looks on their faces:

“Does it now? I suppose you’ll have to take me up on it then, won’t you?”

The knights were on some stupid (in Merlin’s opinion) quest.

The group was currently making their way through a complicated cave system. They had maps, thankfully, but they were old, and provided by a small village of locals who hadn’t spoken common very well.

They’d had to trade away half of their supplies in return for the maps, so Arthur was already in a foul mood, but a dotted line on the page across the path they were following was worrying him. The note written next to it was in some old, almost lost native language, so The King had just resigned himself to carrying on and hoping for the best.

Which is why he let out a series of echoing curse words when they turned a corner to find a ragged overhang, about eight feet above the path. The wall curved in on itself before jutting out again at the top, making it impossible to climb, even without armour and swords and packs.

Elyan is the first to break the tense silence after Arthur’s outburst, his tone half amused, half annoyed, as he mutters:

“That’ll be why the locals kept pointing at that ladder then.”

Arthur huffs, glaring at the knight with a rare venom, but Leon gestures to the map in his hand before he can retort:

“We can always go back, or is there another way around?”

Arthur huffs louder, letting out a short growl as he thrusts the maps to Leon’s chest and paces closer to the overhang:

“Feel free, if you can find an alternative route, please, enlighten me. The village is a day’s journey away, we don’t have time to go back.”

Leon covers his annoyance at Arthur’s harshness well, but Merlin scowls at The King openly before moving to stand at the junction between the wall of the corridor, and the overhang in front of them:

“Don’t be an arse, Arthur, it’s not Leon’s fault that none of us can understand Old... whatever it was. And it’s not that high, just-”

With that, Merlin braces his foot against the wall, bending his knees slightly before pushing off and jumping up, reaching out and grabbing the overhang, his feet dangling off the ground. The knights stare in shock, but before they can say anything, Merlin swings his feet forwards, and backwards, and forwards again. When they swing back for the second time, he uses the momentum to pull himself up, his arms locking out straight beneath him as he lifts his knees up, crawling over the edge and onto the floor above them.

Arthur blinks, looking from the floor, to the wall, and up to Merlin again, trying to figure out how the hell his manservant had enough strength in his arms and core to pull himself up; he hadn’t even taken his pack off.

Lancelot clears his throat, tilting his head and frowning as he slowly speaks:

“That was... impressive. But we’re wearing armour, Merlin, I don’t think we’ll be able to manage that with all the extra weight.”

No one mentions that they don’t think they could do it even without armour.

Merlin just rolls his eyes and sits on the edge, his feet dangling below him as he gestures vaguely:

“Well if you just get your hands on the ledge then I can pull you up. Take your packs off and throw them up first if you’re so worried, you can give each other a hand up, and Percival can go last because of how tall he is. Come on, it wasn’t that hard.”

Lancelot shrugs, taking his pack off and throwing it up with all his might. Merlin leans out, catching it with ease and chucking it behind him as he motions Percival to interlock his hands. The knight does so, allowing Lancelot to step on them and throw himself up, just about managing to catch the ledge and groaning at the strain in his arms. Merlin brings his feet back over the overhang, bracing his heels against the stone as he reaches down, gripping Lancelot’s wrists and hauling him up and over the edge.

Lance yelps as Merlin yanks him up, rolling onto his back and panting at the ceiling as he blinks in surprise. Merlin doesn’t pay him any attention, frowning down at the others and gesturing at them to hurry:

“Come on, I thought we were in a rush?”

With that, they all huddle below, taking turns to be thrown up and hauled over the edge. Merlin drags Elyan up on his own, Lance still recovering from his slight shock, but the more people gather at the top, the less work Merlin has to do. Which is good, because he may be strong, but he’s not sure he could manage Percival on his own. The giant has to take a running leap at the ledge, and it takes four of them to pull him up without dislocating any shoulders or throwing out any backs.

When they’re all successfully at the top, Merlin wordlessly picks his pack up, shrugging it onto his shoulders as he begins a quick pace along the corridor as if he hadn’t a care in the world; the knights break out of their stupors and jog to catch up, knowing that Merlin was right and they needed to hurry.

Arthur was glaring resolutely at the floor, trying to psych himself up to confront whatever arsehole had managed to get the drop on him and his six best knights. The others were arguing in whispers around him, trying to figure out some way to escape the dungeon unscathed, though The King kept silent, knowing that the only way out was if someone unlocked these infernal chains first.

They’d only been there for around an hour, so no one from Camelot would have realised they were missing yet; their only hope was that Merlin was making his way back to the city to get help. He’d been off gathering firewood, and he’d already been gone half a candle mark when they’d been ambushed; Arthur would never admit it, but he had faith that Merlin would be able to sort everything out.

The King harshly shushes the knights as he hears the guards begin to yell, but frowns in confusion when he hears “They’re going crazy up there!” and “What the fuck?!” before the unmistakable sound of armoured boots running up the stairs and away from the dungeons reaches them.

The knights all look to each other in confusion, straining against their chains to try and see through the small barred window at the top of the door. A shadow passes through the square of light on the floor, and they all shuffle back against the wall, staying silent. None of them manage to hold in their surprised yelps however, when the door suddenly bursts in, the wood around the lock splintering violently and spreading shards across the dungeon floor.

A strong arm extends out, stopping the now broken beyond repair door from swinging shut again, and the knights look up, taking in sharp gasps when they see Merlin stood there, scowling disapprovingly with a ring of keys in his other hand and one foot in front of the other, as if he had... as if he had kicked the door. Leon is the first to break the silence:

“Merlin?? What are you doing here?”

Merlin’s scowl deepens as he glances down the corridor before stepping into the dungeon, sorting through the keys to try and figure out which one would open which set of chains:

“Well I’m rescuing you lot, obviously. I leave camp for barely a candle-mark and you get yourselves kidnapped. Honestly, how hard is it to not find trouble, for once?”

Arthur is too busy staring at Merlin’s apparently muscled legs to say anything, even when Elyan clears his throat and kicks him, so Percival is the next to speak as Merlin unlocks his chains:

“Why not just... unlock the door?”

Merlin doesn’t look at the largest of the knights as he moves on to the others, unchaining them one by one as he responds, his scowl still firmly in place:

“The key was on a separate ring and I only had time to grab one, figured the door would be easier to break than the chains.”

Arthur finally blinks and shakes his head free of.... distracting, thoughts as Merlin finally turns to him, holding his hands out to be unchained as he clears his throat and says strongly, forcing the waiver from his voice:

“How did you distract the guards?”

Merlin finally smiles at that, standing and reaching into his pocket to pull out a lumpy looking bit of plant:

“Snuck in and pretended to be one of their slaves, laced all the jugs with mandrake root. They’re all going loopy with hallucinations upstairs, a few of them vomited and I think one guy might have shit himself. The guards went to see what was wrong, so we don’t have much time, come on.”

Arthur nods impressed, and was the last of the group to sneak from the dungeon, pausing briefly to run a hand over the splintered wood and warped metal of the kicked-in door, before shaking his head and following the others out of the not-quite-abandoned fort.

It had been almost a year since Merlin had last seen his mother, so when the servant requested two weeks off to visit home, wanting to help the village out with repairs before the winter set in, Arthur agreed immediately, on the condition that he and a couple of the knights could tag along.

Merlin reluctantly gave in, but only after insisting that he wouldn’t be Arthur’s servant, and whoever came would have to dig in and help out. To be honest, Arthur was mentally exhausted after months of work on repealing the magic ban, so Merlin was silently grateful that he was coming; The King needed a break, and Merlin knew how secretly fond the man was of Merlin’s mother, and her simple country life.

In the end, Leon and Mordred were the only ones who could come; Lancelot and Elyan were left in charge of patrols, Percival and Gwaine were left in charge of training, and Guinevere, Gaius, and Morgana were left to oversee the council and the general running of the Kingdom. Arthur wasn’t worried to be honest, they were only going to be gone for two weeks, and if disaster set in they were only a two day’s ride away at most.

It was chilly, the winter was setting in early so Merlin and Hunith were eager for work to start as soon as possible. There were numerous leaks and fences to fix, and one of the village’s barns needed clearing out so it could filled with grain over the snowy season.

That, and as much firewood needed to be collected as possible so they could stockpile. They normally barely had enough to last them through the winter; Arthur had nodded in approval when Merlin had meekly asked if they could take a cart of wood with them from Camelot, but they still had a lot to gather.

It was the afternoon of their first day, Leon had been sent to a neighbour’s to fix a roof, Merlin was doing something outside, and Mordred was just about to head over to one of the livestock pastures to strengthen a few of the fences. Hunith was preparing the evening’s meal and Arthur stood politely in the doorway as he spoke:

“Merlin said that firewood had to be gathered? I can get started on that if you can point me in the right direction.”

Hunith smiles over her shoulder briefly, and Arthur ignores the warm fuzziness in his stomach at the sight as she speaks:

“Oh don’t worry about that, we’ve only one axe in the village and Merlin is out by the barn chopping wood now. I know there’s a leak somewhere in the basement of the village hall, a few of the boys are already down there if you’re looking for something to do?”

Arthur raises his eyebrow at Hunith’s insistence that Merlin, his lanky manservant, was outside with an axe chopping wood, and he glances at Mordred over his shoulder, who just shrugs, nodding to Hunith’s turned back. The King responds quietly, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice:

“Hmm. I’ll go check in with Merlin and then head down to the hall, if he doesn’t need help.”

Hunith hums in agreement, but otherwise doesn’t reply, mumbling under her breath about herbs and measurements as she stirs something into the pot. Arthur smirks at Mordred and the two of them head out, neither mentioning how Mordred was following Arthur to find Merlin instead of getting to the fences.

They walk in silence, though they both freeze on the spot when they turn a corner to see Merlin, once again with his sleeves rolled up, hefting around a huge lump of wood, a ginormous axe resting on his shoulder. He gets the wood where he wants it, stepping back and wiping his forearm across his sweaty forehead before lifting the axe and swinging it down again. The stump splits easily beneath the sharpened metal, and Merlin wastes no time in repositioning the new pieces of wood, ready to be chopped again.

Arthur doesn’t even realise his mouth is hanging open until Mordred looks at him and smirks, biting his lip before giving in and snorting quietly:

“You’re the colour of our capes, Sire, and you might want to shut your mouth. Don’t want to catch flies, do you?”

Arthur’s jaw snaps shut with a clack, and he frowns as his teeth begin to ache. Mordred chuckles slightly and though Arthur is grateful that the young knight is finally comfortable enough to joke around with him, he desperately wishes he wasn’t at Gwaine’s level of comfort.

Instead of retorting, Arthur just clears his throat and turns around, striding towards the village hall:

“It appears he’s got things handled. Those fences won’t fix themselves, Sir Mordred.”

Mordred only just manages to hold in his giggle, looking up to see Merlin staring confusedly at him and Arthur’s rapidly retreating back. He waves briefly, sending a quick “I’ll tell you later.” over their mental link before turning himself and heading in the direction of the pastures.

He knows full well that he has no intention of telling Merlin about Arthur’s crush; watching them tiptoe around each other was the funniest thing ever, and he didn’t want to ruin the bet that Gwaine had going.

+1)

The fight was vicious, more so than any of the skirmishes the knights had dealt with in the last several months.

They were vastly outnumbered, and the addition of four powerful sorcerers to the enemy ranks meant that Merlin and Mordred were quickly running out of energy, having to focus on both the magical aspect of the fight, and trying to keep everyone else alive.

The metallic scent of blood was almost overwhelming, and the constant clang of metal on metal mixed with the whooshing echoes of sorcerous fire and vines was deafening. The fight went on a lot longer than Merlin had thought it would; the enemy was clearly more skilled than predicted, but the Camelot knights did prevail eventually, Percival ending the fight with the smooth slice of his blade across the last mercenary’s throat.

Merlin wastes no time in running his gaze over the knights, giving special attention to Arthur as he searches for any injuries that need seeing to immediately. The last of the sorcerers had managed to escape, so they needed to get out of there as soon as possible: there’s no way they’d survive a second attack if he came back with reinforcements.

Merlin was relieved to see nothing too serious; Lancelot had a gash on his temple that would need a thorough cleaning and a few stitches, and Gwaine was holding his wrist to his chest in a way that told Merlin it was likely broken, but everyone was on their feet and no one was crying. That’s a good start.

Merlin relaxes, but his shoulders quickly tense again as Mordred’s voice echoes weakly through his head:

“Emrys... I’m... I’m tired...”

Merlin whips around quickly, his eyes wide and panicked as his frantic gaze lands on the young knight. He’s leaning against a tree, his eyes hooded and focused on the floor. Merlin leaps towards him, catching him just before his head lands harshly on a boulder, and pulling the collapsed younger man into a more comfortable position as Arthur rushes over:

“What’s wrong with him? I don’t see any blood, was he hit with magic?”

Merlin waves him off, checking Mordred’s pulse and breathing before he relaxes again, sending a tired, but relieved smile up to The King:

“He’s fine, just exhausted. This is the first time he’s used this much magic in years, he’ll need a little while to recover his strength, but we need to get out of here in case they come back.”

Arthur lets out a relieved sigh and nods, leaning down to take one of Mordred’s arms and waving Gwaine over to pick his legs up, but before either of them get even close, Merlin stands up, dragging Mordred with him and settling the armoured knight across his shoulders. He looks to Arthur next to him, not seeming to notice The King’s shock as he quickly says:

“I know you’re The King and all, but would you mind carrying my bag?”

Arthur nods dumbly, picking up Merlin’s dropped medical bag without taking his gaze off the Warlock, who wanders around double checking that the other knights were ok and that all the bandits were dead as if he didn’t have about 240 pounds of man and armour dangling from his shoulders.

Leon catches Arthur’s eye, nodding pointedly towards the path they needed to take, trying to pull Arthur back into the present before the others notice him gawping. Arthur gulps, blushing as he nods his thanks and moves away from the battlefield, Merlin’s bag secured on his shoulders as he confidently speaks:

“Merlin’s right, we need to get as far away from here as we can. I saw a cave about two hours’ back North, we can make camp there before heading back to Camelot in the morning. Gather as much as you can carry, we’ve no hope of finding the horses before nightfall, hopefully they can make their own way home.”

The knights all nod, following Arthur’s lead as he steps carefully through the underbrush, trying not leave any obvious pointers to their direction. He keeps his gaze resolutely ahead as he hears Percival ask:

“You alright, Merlin? Sure you don’t want a hand?”

Despite keeping his gaze stubbornly forward, Arthur strains his ears to hear Merlin’s response, refusing to acknowledge the sudden weakness in his knees at what the Warlock replies with:

“Nah, it’s fine, he’s not that heavy.”

Leon subtly sidles up to walk next to The King, glancing behind him before leaning in close, talking quietly as they moved:

“Perhaps you should... let him know of you affections, Sire?”

Arthur’s blushing gaze quickly finds the older knight’s before he looks away again:

“I don’t know what you think you’re implying, Sir Leon.”

Leon just raises his eyebrow in an unusual display of amused defiance:

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Arthur. He’s been by your side for ten years, you’ve been through the unspeakable, both with each other and for each other. That, and he has a surprisingly... admirable physique.-”

Arthur’s blush deepens and he clears his throat, crossing his arms petulantly and staring resolutely ahead. Leon puts a hand on The young King’s shoulder as he continues:

“-You’re...-”

The knight sighs and bites his lip again, debating with himself over whether he should say it or not:

“-you’re head over heels for him, Sire, perhaps it’s time to do something about it? Gods know he feels the same, and the Gods also know that he’ll never make the first move. He’s still... nervous, about messing things up, I think. His-”

Leon glances over his shoulder again to make sure no one could hear him before dropping his voice to a whisper:

“-his magic being outed put him... on edge, even after all these months. He won’t do anything that he think could push you away or anger you.”

Arthur sighs and nods, before turning to him slowly with an embarrassed scowl on his face; he doesn’t shrug off Leon’s hand, which the knight takes as a good sign:

“Not a word to anyone, Leon, I swear to the Gods.”

Leon holds his hand up and uses his other to wave a cross over his heart:

“I swear, Sire. Though I feel the need to tell you that... at least three of the other servants, and I do believe Lady Bronwyn and Sir Galahad, also have... uh... their eyes on him, as it were.”

Arthur’s scowl gets impossibly deeper as he huffs, muttering to himself:

“They do, do they? Well, we’ll see about that.”

Leon just smirks again and rolls his eyes fondly before falling back to walk with Elyan.

They finally make it back to the cave, though it took them even longer without horses. Merlin had requested they stop around a candle mark in so he could remove some of the heavier bits of Mordred’s armour, passing them off to the other knights, but he had once again rejected any offers of help, saying that he was slowly siphoning his own magic into Mordred so he would wake sooner. Apparently they needed to be touching for that to happen, and though Merlin had been teaching them, none of them had enough knowledge on magic to know whether that was true or not, but they did know that Merlin was incredibly protective of the young Druid, so they let it be.

A fire was lit quickly and supplies were laid out. A map had been saved, thankfully, so they could figure out roughly where they were and how long it would take them to get back home as Merlin quickly treated Lance’s gash and Gwaine’s wrist.

Mordred begins to stir just as Percival serves up food, groaning slightly and rubbing at his eyes before struggling to sit himself up. Merlin had rushed to his side as soon as he felt the Druid begin to wake, and helps prop him up against the cave wall, handing him a water-skin as he stares at him with concern. Mordred takes a long drink, nodding his thanks and clearing his throat before speaking, his voice gravelly and slow:

“This... this is the cave we passed a few hours ago...”

His voice trails off, and Arthur answers the question in his tone:

“Hmm. We had no horses, so we were never going to make it back to the city, but we couldn’t stay where we were.”

Mordred nods, yawning widely and rubbing his eyes again as he asks:

“How did you get me this far without horses?”

Arthur clenches his jaw, blushing slightly as he looks away, but thankfully Gwaine butts in, answering with a grin on his face before anyone notices The King’s flush:

“Merlin here is stronger than he looks. Carried you the whole way, didn’t use magic or anything.”

Mordred turns his incredulous gaze to Merlin and he just shrugs absentmindedly:

“You don’t weigh that much, it was fairly easy.”

Elyan laughs and shakes his head, joining in on the conversation quickly:

“Are you kidding me? I mean... sure, I could’ve carried him for maybe an hour, if I was at full strength and it was easy terrain. You carried him for three, only took his armour off in the second hour, down what could barely be classified as a path, in a barely tamed forest, after a pretty hefty fight. That’s... impressive.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, looking around the room in bafflement as he realises that everyone is staring at him with varying levels of impressed confusion:

“You guys... you guys know that I grew up in the country, right? I spent my childhood climbing trees and running away from predators, and my teenage years chopping wood, building things with barely any help, and fighting the odd bear. I then arrive in Camelot, only to immediately be given a job that involves carrying a shit ton of heavy stuff, including, but not limited to: armour, luggage, hunting equipment, and the occasional unconscious idiot.”

Arthur sits up straight and scowls slightly when Merlin gestures to him instead of Mordred:

“You have never had to carry me anywhere.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, gaze sinking to the floor as he smirks and coughs out something that sounds suspiciously like “Sophia”.

Arthur’s blush deepens and he jabs an accusing finger in Merlin’s direction:

“That. Didn’t. Happen.”

Merlin bites his lip to stop himself from laughing, but his dimples still show through despite his best effort and he holds his hands up in surrender:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur just clenches his jaw and sits back against the wall with eyes focused on his food and cheeks red, stubbornly ignoring the knights’ curious stares as everyone eats their food. Merlin fusses over Mordred for a few more minutes but is quickly waved away by the younger man; the Warlock huffs and rolls his eyes, but gives in to the fact that Mordred did not need, nor want, to be babied. He moves subtly around the cave to sit down next to Arthur, barely a foot of air between them despite the abundance of space elsewhere.

Arthur forces his blush down at Merlin’s proximity, refusing to think of anything but his food and the difficult journey home, desperately keeping his gaze on his meal instead of Merlin’s strong legs stretched out next to him.

The King doesn’t acknowledge him, but doesn’t move away either, which Merlin takes as a good sign as he settles in, wrapping himself in a blanket to protect his body from the impending cold.

The other knights have long since finished their meals, scarping the lot in a matter of seconds in an attempt to gain back a little energy after the hours of riding and fighting and walking; they quickly settle into the blankets and cloaks and bedrolls they had managed to carry, though Leon seems to deliberately move slower, waiting for Arthur to glance up at him so he can give a pointed look to Merlin, just finishing his food, before laying down and attempting to sleep.

Arthur blushes with wide eyes, but Leon turns around before he has time to glare at him, and The King huffs quietly, risking a glance to a shivering Merlin next to him. He quickly frowns, not moving his gaze away like he had intended to, instead whispering softly:

“Cold? Can’t you use magic to warm up?”

Merlin looks to him tiredly, leaning his head back against the wall as his eyelids droop slightly:

“Hmm. I gave most of my reserves to Mordred, he was worse off than I first thought so he needed a lot more magic than I realised to keep him alive long enough for his energy to build up again.-”

Arthur widens his eyes at the fact that he was so close to losing one of his knights, but then shakes his head, huffing as he glares at the Warlock disapprovingly, but Merlin closes his eyes and continues before he can get told off:

“-I’ll be fine by morning, I just need-”

He’s interrupted when his body is wracked by a particularly strong shiver:

“-I just need some sleep.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, shuffling into a more comfortable position before opening his arms, spreading his cloak wide as if they were a pair of majestic wings:

“Come here, you idiot. I can’t have you freezing to death because you refuse to look after yourself.”

In normal circumstance Merlin would’ve argued, but he really was cold, so when he cracks his eyes open to see Arthur ready and waiting, he doesn’t hesitate to crawl hurriedly over. Arthur ignores the flush rising on his cheeks as Merlin clambers over one of his legs, settling between them and shoving his head under the blonde’s chin; he wraps his cloak around the two of them and rubs his cheek into the Warlock’s soft hair.

He can feel Merlin grin against his collarbone, and it’s enough to distract him from the surprising, but not unwelcome, weight of Merlin’s muscled form against his chest:

“You know, Arthur, if you wanted to feel up my muscles so badly you just had to ask. You stare far too often to think you’re subtle.”

Arthur’s flush deepens and his body goes rigid as Merlin giggles. He clenches his jaw and lands a punch, far softer than he would normally go for, on the other man’s shoulder, but that just makes him giggle harder, and Arthur has to hush him in fear of waking the others. Merlin looks up at him through thick eyelashes, blinking tiredly with a satisfied smile on his face:

“Just let me know if you ever want carrying around, I’m more than happy to help.”

Arthur gulps, refusing to make eye contact as he stares resolutely at the opposite wall and not acknowledging the red hue of his cheeks:

“When we get back to Camelot, I’m hanging you for treason.”

Merlin snorts quietly, re-burying his face in Arthur’s chest and curling up tightly in his lap to stave off the cold:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur gives in, smiling slightly and rolling his eyes as he tightens his hold on the other man. He lets his cheek fall back to rest on his soft hair as he closes his eyes, allowing his exhaustion to take over and descending into an easy sleep.

THE END!!

We stan Arthur gay panicking and all the knights (bar Leon of course, who handles it as tactically as he’s able) ruthlessly taking the piss :D

I hope y’all enjoyed reading this, I certainly enjoyed writing it! Thank you anon, I loved writing this!!!

Same as always, someone wants to write it up in full, go for it!! Drop me a message and credit/tag me :)

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becca-e-barnes · 3 years

Text

Take Care of Everything

This is my first ever fic for a writing challenge omg I’m so excited! Huge congratulations to @balenciagabucky for hitting 3K followers!! That’s such a huge milestone and thank you for organising such a fun challenge! So excited to read the rest of the submissions 💗 @dulceslibrary

Pairing: Personal Assistant! Bucky Barnes x Lawyer! Reader

Word Count: 3.5k maybe?

Summary: There’s only one thing in your life that your PA doesn’t take care of

Warnings: Smut, praise kink, pet names, protected sex (go me for writing something safe sex for a change), court mention, lil fluff, mile high club

Minors, do not interact.

“Un-fucking-believable.” You couldn’t stop the roaring boil of the blood in your veins, storming out of the court room with your long black gown billowing behind you. Being one of the top barristers in the country brought it’s fair share of high profile cases but this one had got on every last nerve in your body and you were out of patience.

The case itself wasn’t the problem. The issues were straightforward enough and applying law to fact, at the most basic level, your client had done nothing wrong. It should have been essentially cut and dry. The problem was the opposing council and the lack of intervention from the judge.

The prosecution had torn your witness to shreds. You had tried to warn the poor woman beforehand, as you did with every client, but on the stand, she had just crumbled under such an intense and downright ignorant line of questioning.

It shouldn’t have even been allowed in the first place. The judge should have stepped in and clipped the opposing council’s wings but the damage was already done and now you would have to pick the pieces up when court resumed on Monday.

“How did it go?” Your personal assistant must have been leaning outside the courtroom door for who knows how long, his suit somehow as neat and pristine as always, despite the fact it was the end of the day.

“Fucking dreadful, Terry was an asshole to Andrea and she lost it. Should’ve known he’d pull shit like that, he’s always a cunt on Friday evenings.” You practically spat the words out, heels clicking on the floor as you made your way down the marble hall to collect your things and begin to put an end to this miserable week.

Part of you almost wanted to laugh at how Bucky had developed the skill of being able to keep up with your pace without even having to look up from his blackberry. That only came from years of practice.

“Terry loves playing with fire. Fuck him. If anyone can put him in his place on Monday, it’s you.” Bucky still hadn’t taken a second to pull his nose up from his phone, his steps landing in perfect time with yours until you reached the chamber at the end of the hall, throwing the heavy wooden door open in front of you. Bucky filtered in behind you of course, closing the door behind him before slipping his phone neatly into his pocket.

“Thought your doctor warned you about your blood pressure? You gotta calm down.” Bucky’s face showed he was genuinely concerned, his eyebrows knitted together in disdain but there was nothing new there. He had worked for you for years now and truth be told, he was damn good at his job, not to mention the fact he was the closest thing to a friend your busy schedule allowed you to have.

“I’ll calm down when I’m dead. We need to get to the airport if we’re going to make that flight for the convention.” You pulled your wig off, setting it neatly into the little wooden closet before removing your gown, hanging it up alongside the other worn ones from earlier in the week so they could all be dry cleaned and back in the closet for Monday.

“It’s a private jet honey, it can’t leave without you.” Bucky laughed softly, knowing you were worked up and hoping a little joke would ease the tension.

You had to admit, you were so thankful for Bucky. He was devoting the prime of his life to making sure you had everything you needed, your life only felt so seamless because Bucky made it that way. He didn’t just manage your calendar and fetch you coffee like any other PA, he lived and breathed you. He went everywhere with you, crashing in your spare room at least three nights a week because you had both worked yourselves to exhaustion. He never missed anything. He had a solution for every problem, nothing was too big for him to tackle and given the chance, you two could absolutely take over the world one day. You confided in him, and he in you, getting to know every tiny detail of his life in the past few years, right down to that fact that neither of you had seen your family or been on a date in months. Hell, he’d went as far as buying you a packet of batteries one Monday after a particularly long and stressful court hearing.

“Here, got you these.” He had smiled mischievously as he handed them over to you, chuckling a little at your confused expression. “For your vibrator. Looks like it’s gonna be a long week.” You took them gratefully, joking with him that you really would need them, tucking them into your handbag and damn were they appreciated. The following morning he had asked how you had got on and you could only laugh. You didn’t tell him how thoughts of him had come into your head right as you had gotten close. Similarly, you didn’t tell him how painfully intense your orgasm had been when you imagined him on the bed with you, watching you come apart against the plastic toy. You could just picture his hungry gaze, watching how your body gushed as you released, nipples pebbled from arousal and your lips parted, a single whimper of his name escaping you as you rode out your high.

No, that was a little secret you would keep to yourself. He didn’t need to know your dirtiest fantasies. He was an employee. An employee that often arrived at your bedroom door shirtless and smirking, holding a stack of freshly made pancakes on the mornings he stayed over at yours but an employee nonetheless.

—————————

The cab ride to the airport would have been silent if it hadn’t been for the gentle tapping of your thumbs and Bucky’s racing over your respective phone screens. You had at least two dozen emails left to reply to and your eyelids were beginning to get heavy, the body heat radiating from Bucky in the cab’s back seat making you drowsy. You took a second, squeezing your eyes shut to force away the tiredness before going back to typing relentlessly.

The trip to the airport was short, Bucky had competed the preflight checkin so you essentially stepped straight onto the plane, taking a seat by the window, with Bucky taking the one opposite you. Takeoff was smooth as always, your phones picked back up as soon as it was safe to do so. But with the glowing screen came a fresh wave of drowsiness, your eyelids threatening to close of their own accord.

“Shit, Buck did you pack my -“

“Glasses? Left side of your bag, under the tissues.” Bucky finished your sentence for you, not looking up from his phone.

“And my -“

“Eye drops? In your makeup bag.” There it was again. What surprised you most was that Bucky didn’t even need to see you to work out exactly what was wrong.

“Do you really just take care of everything?” You huffed out a little laugh, digging through your bag, finding both your glasses and eye drops exactly where he told you they would be.

“Everything but you.” He chuckled, finally setting his phone down.

“What do you mean ‘everything but me’? All you ever do is take care of me. You organise my shopping and dry cleaning for god’s sake.” The whole notion of Bucky doing anything but taking care of you was just insane because you sure as hell didn’t have time to do any of those things for yourself. That’s what you hired him for after all.

“I didn’t mean like that. I meant like really take care of you. You’re so damn up tight.” You knew by the little chuckle that accompanied his words that he meant it affectionately but it still made you slightly defensive.

“I’m not up tight.” You protested. Normally you would’ve let harmless comments like that slide but the combination of your shitty day and the fact you were so sleepy made it impossible to not seek out conflict. This was the life you were used to after all. A life of treating almost everyone you came across adversarially. It was second nature to you at this point, inside and outside the courtroom.

“Come on, you seem to forget I am your calendar. You think I don’t know you haven’t gotten any in months? You should get laid, that’s all I’m sayin’. Wouldn’t kill you to have an orgasm every once in a while.” The words roll off his tongue like it’s nothing and truth be told, if you were in better form, this would have been a perfectly normal conversation between the two of you. Neither of you were particularly shy when it came to talking about your hookups.

You hated how right he was. You hated that you hadn’t been touched in months and Bucky knew that. You hated that most days, you were too exhausted to bother tending to your own needs. And you hated the warmth spreading through your body at the thought of Bucky finally taking care of you.

“Don’t know Buck, an orgasm might actually kill me with my high blood pressure.” You needed this conversation to turn more light hearted and you needed it fast, before your head became so clouded with need that Bucky picked up on it.

“I mean, I handle everything else for you. Wouldn’t even mind if that became part of my remit.” You almost couldn’t believe how carefree and nonchalant this whole conversation seemed, Bucky hoping you missed how he cock twitched in his trousers. Of course you didn’t. You missed nothing.

“If what became part of your remit?” You quizzed firmly, trying not to give anything away but knowing your eyes had gone big and doe-like, entirely of their own accord. This was a dream come true.

“You. Actually taking care of you. However you need.” His stare was intense, watching you keenly to determine whether he had horrendously overstepped and was about to get fired.

“Why would you even want to?” Your voice carried every single ounce of confusion you were feeling, staring Bucky down with an intensity that mirrored his own in that moment.

“You’re far too smart to act dumb.” He replied softly, knowing it was all or nothing now. If he was getting fired, he might as well be honest. His head tilted downwards, drawing your attention to the bulge growing in his suit trousers. Years worth of need and longing bubbling over all at once.

“If you want this, tell me. If not, that’s fine. But it doesn’t need to be anything romantic. Can be just sex. Whatever you want.” He was doing his very best to stay calm, his brain finally catching up with his mouth and considering that he was now in way too deep to just apologise and about to get his ass handed to him at thousands of feet in the air by one of the best legal minds in the world.

You’d never wanted anything more in your life. It was almost like Bucky was dangling himself in front of you. A piece of meat before a lion that could be snatched away at any second. You weren’t going to give him the chance, professionalism be damned. You were out of your seat and onto his lap in a flash, your pencil skirt hiked up to allow you to bracket his legs in your own.

“Are you sure about this?” Your quizzed softly, giving him one last chance to back out before you lost all self control.

“Do I feel like I’m not sure?” His voice was almost a choked whisper, his hands landing on your hips to press you down against his stiff cock.

You’d never seen him like this before. Horny and needy and losing himself in the feeling of you on top of him after years of fantasies. He had tried to curb the fantasies but his body didn’t allow him to. You were all he could think of on those lonely nights, a hand wrapped around his cock, groans and whimpers escaping until he came over his hand, a cry of your name pulled from his lips. He thought you would never know. And now here he was, the woman of his dreams perched in his lap, asking to be taken care of. Even the filthiest parts of his brain couldn’t have come up with this.

He could never have dreamt how you moved forward so tentatively, your lips hardly even touching his. He was used to seeing you confident, in control, the calmest person under pressure and yet here you were, unsure of yourself for the first time, he imagined, in your life. You both kept your eyes open for a little while, your lips sliding together gently, getting a feel for one another, up until your teeth sank into the plush skin of his bottom lip and an actual groan left him, his eyelids fluttering shut. The sound could’ve made you quiver with need. It was so alarmingly sexy, knowing your huge, sexy PA could be taken apart with the smallest touches. Suddenly, this seemed to be as much, if not more, for Bucky’s benefit than your own.

“Thought this was for me, hm?” Somehow your condescending court voice was pushing him over the edge. You felt one of his hands come up, tangling in your hair while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling your core flush with his clothed cock. He kissed you with a burning intensity that made your head swim and your pussy throb, loving how he was taking control but still hurtling further into a breathless, needy state.

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve thought about this. Didn’t think we’d be joining the mile high club.” He huffed out a little light laugh, using his grip on your waist to help you roll your hips over his growing erection.

“Couldn’t have been thinking about this for as long as I have.” You smiled softly, letting out a little gasp as his cock nudged you just right through your panties that you were sure had been soaked through already. His eyes went wide at your admission, his dick twitching deliciously underneath you.

“Fuck, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.” He whispered, making you laugh at how eager he was.

“I won’t be able to wait until we’re off this plane Bucky. You gonna fuck me right here?” You teased him softly, your faces so close, your tiny hands running down his pristine shirt, toying with the buttons. When you began to graze his chest gently with your nails, it was like a switch flipped inside Bucky. He thrust up against you with a growl loving the yelp you let out, one hand now squeezing your ass, the other massaging your breasts through your blouse.

“Gonna fuck all the stress out of you. Gonna have you leavin’ this plane leakin’ and cockdrunk.” Somehow you didn’t even doubt his words and you had to admit, it did sound quite appealing to give up the control for a while, just letting Bucky take over.

“Gimme all you’ve got Barnes. Gotta make it worth my while or this is gonna be the last time you get the chance.” You couldn’t help but tease him before instantly realising that might have been a mistake, his lips burning hot as they worked against your own, needy, insistent and as always, eager to please.

His mouth was relentless to the point that you found yourself practically dry humping his cock, your hands laced in his hair while his untucked your blouse from your skirt, greedily holding onto any skin he could reach. He tasted of peppermint and coffee, smelt like the expensive aftershave you were so fond of and felt like a man who’s only purpose in life was to make you cum until it hurt.

“Need you. ‘Nside me. Now.” You managed somehow to pant the words out between the fervent slide of his lips over yours, his tongue dipping in to taste you, never wanting this to end.

The feeling of your much smaller hands landing on his belt buckle made him look down but he could’ve cum then and there at the sight that met him. The front of his suit pants were slick with your mess, proof that he wasn’t just dreaming and you really were needing this just as badly as he was.

“You’re so fuckin’ ready for it aren’t you? Look at the mess you’ve made. Why didn’t we do this years ago?” He was groaning, shifting in his seat to help you get his trousers and boxers down. You couldn’t help how you gasped a little at the sheer size of him, his cock thick and long, the head slick with precum, proud veins running up his shaft. He looked Godly. Two firm pumps was all it took to have his head thrown back against the plush leather seat, cursing and bucking against your hand, aching for more.

“I’m sorry Buck, I can’t wait any longer.” You panted, his lips attached to your neck now, kissing, licking and sucking all his frustration into your skin. If there was a time for foreplay, that wasn’t it. Neither of you had the patience right now.

“Thank God, needa feel this pretty pussy.” He all but whispered as you lined him up at your soaking entrance.

“Shit Bucky, you got a condom?” You asked anxiously, stilling yourself at the last second.

“My bag, zip compartment at the front.” He replied quietly and sure enough, that’s exactly where you found a packet. Tearing the wrapper off, you slid it down his length earning another groan from the huge man who was practically shaking beneath you.

“You think of everything.” You giggled, finally beginning to slowly sink yourself down onto him. Your laugh quickly turned into a breathy moan, your breath mingling with Bucky’s and you noticed how he made a very similar noise. You pressed yourself down slowly, your body having to adjust to the stretch.

“So tight, fuck. Shit, never felt a tighter pussy in my life.” He whispered when you were finally seated on top of him. He pulled your skirt out of the way to appreciate just how connected your bodies were in that moment. His cock just seemed to fit perfectly, so snug you could’ve cried as you began to slowly work your hips against his.

“Oh my god Bucky you’re huge.” You should’ve been embarrassed by how high and needy your whine came out but right then and there, you didn’t care.

“It’s all yours sweetheart. Gonna fuck you so good you never need another cock again. Gonna ruin anyone else for you - fuck.” Under normal circumstances you would’ve chastised him for being so overconfident but feeling how his cock nudged your sweet spot perfectly, you thought he might actually be right.

“Gotta fuck you angel, can’t just sit here anymore, ‘s driving me crazy.” He just couldn’t keep himself still any longer, lust burning behind his eyes in a way you had never seen in him before. You lifted yourself up slowly, feeling his length slipping from you, your walls fighting to pull him deeper until you sank back down, taking the whole length at once. The strangled cry that left Bucky was incredible. You repeated your gentle rise and fall, setting a decent pace. Every sharp fall of your hips tore a needy gasp from both of you, the sweetest spot inside you throbbing from the almost constant onslaught. It was everything you craved. Bucky was grasping at every curve of your body, lost in the feeling of your soft skin and the grip of your silky walls and the smell of your shampoo as you rode him, building speed as your pleasure built in your lower belly. The wet sounds escaping where your bodies were joined was nothing short of obscene, only fuelling Bucky to meet each of your thrusts with his own.

“Oh my god, I -oh oh- I can’t, can’t take it Bucky please.” You groaned, manicured fingernails digging into his chest.

“I got you honey. ‘s okay. Gonna take such good care of you when we get to the hotel. Just want you to cum once for me now, okay? Take the edge off. You feel so good wrapped round me. You know what else I can feel? Your pretty pussy is leakin’. Feel you drippin’ down over my balls. Never felt anything so hot in my ‘ntire life.” His fingers fell to your clit, rubbing neatly as if he had been trained to do nothing else. You were on cloud nine, your high so close but not quite there yet.

“Bucky, gonna cum. Oh fuck!” You whined, your orgasm hitting you like a train. You came with a loud cry, eyes squeezed shut, rocking against him more than fucking so his cock stayed buried inside you.

“Shit, how did you get even fuckin’ tighter. ‘M so close.” He whispered against your neck, broken and needy. Your high had all but subsided, aftershocks still pleasantly coursing through you as you went back to letting your hips rise and fall so Bucky could finish. It only took four more well timed thrusts before he was cumming with a shout, pulling you flush against him as his balls emptied into the condom.

You were both spent and sweaty but more satisfied than you could remember being in months, your chest pressed to his as you both came down, craving a little extra affection. Bucky held you for a good few minutes until you felt his cock softening, knowing he really should get cleaned up. You let him slip from you, pulling your skirt down to take your original seat across from him again.

“Gimme a second.” He whispered, kissing your forehead before making his way to the little bathroom, returning a few minutes later looking just as put together as ever, apart from his telltale grin.

“Jesus, we should do that more often.” You smiled quietly when he returned, letting him settle in the chair beside you this time, the dividing arm rest pushed out of the way so you could cuddle as much as possible given the limited space.

“I can’t stop now honey. That pussy is addictive.” He smiled, happy to see you leaning so comfortably up against him but even happier when he heard your soft little snores.

Taglist:

@harrysthiccthighss @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @justatirednightowl @littlecanadianlani @babebr @sebsbrokentoe @badgirlwolfy

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leviiattacks · 3 years

Note

May I request a Levi x Reader angst fic? Just barely any fluff, mostly angst going on lol. The reader is a traitor, formaly working for Marley, but betraying them in secret and putting their loyalty on Paradis. The reader is also a shifter and married to Levi for a couple of years. That love and care however is gone once readers identity is found. He truly despises them, insults them, maybe a bit violent with them, and outright tells them that they mean nothing to him anymore and hate them to bits. Readers punishment is to hand over her titan to Erwin, and they agree instantly, broken over everything, believing its all their fault. Once Erwin inherits Readers titan, he breaks down and screams, crying, because Reader was innocent the whole time. They never betrayed Paradis. Never killed anyone, never harmed anyone. They finaly know why they betrayed Marley, the abuse being to much for them, enough to just leave them behind for Paradis. Just... loving and caring as they all saw them. But now the damage is done. They wont come back, they're dead, believing that they died, hated and despised, with no one to mourn their death. Everyone regrets everything.

author note :: i was thinking of leaving this in my drafts but i already wrote it and may as well post it. it didn’t end up going the way i hoped but yeah i hope it’s ok anon. anyways ANGST. ANGST, ANGST. as always i love feed back :-) ⟹ all of the headings with the years are just meant to mean it’s a different moment from that year so those moments don’t happen right after each other i hope that makes sense!! word count :: 7.2k warnings :: canon typical violence, death

845, i.

Everything is falling in place when it shouldn't.

Sun never makes itself known in Liberio yet here it is shining down onto the bustling streets. You half expect for it to crash down and burn into the hundreds of civilians going about their daily business yet nothing of the sort happens. It's typical sunlight and you curse yourself silently for your sinister thoughts.

Secretly the voice at the back of your mind still whispers frantically but you don't wish to hear what it has to say. Instead you choose to drown it out with the sound of Zeke's voice. Finally deciding to pay attention to what it is he's been droning on about for the past ten minutes.

"Soon, soon, soon." He sighs dreamily looking a little delirious.

"Soon?"

Your question catches him off guard, he lightly shoves you with his elbow scoffing in annoyance.

"Did you sit here to not even listen to me?" He turns to take a sip of whisky and the hearty gulp he chugs shows his mild irritation. You assume he's been rambling on about Marley's plan to infiltrate Paradis. You have to admit that the idea of destroying those demons from the inside is amazingly well thought out. However it's all he's been able to discuss for the entire week now and frankly you're getting a little exhausted of it.

"I zoned out..." Quietly placing your glass back down onto the wooden counter you sigh closing your eyes. It's too early to be drinking and you don't trust Zeke enough to slip into ignorance and leave yourself vulnerable. Men are to not be trusted, especially Eldian men. The thought of Eldians triggers your flight of fight response, you want to shrivel up into a cocoon and never come out until the world is rid of the monsters. The lowest of the low, the dirt in between the crevices of Marleyan soldier's boots. That is what Eldian's are.

It's ironic coming from you, your entire family labelled as undesirable Eldians yourself but you, you know you're different. An honorary Marleyan is what you will become. What you are. The treacherous imps who are but an ocean away are the true evil.

Eyes flicking to Zeke he's lighting a cigar. Old habits die hard and he's yet to quit this self destructive custom of his. You couldn't care less if he chooses to cut his lifespan short by ten years, it's his own choice to make. A disgusting cowardly choice but it's a choice fit for an untamed man like him.

The Island Devils are said to be the bad apples but you can't help but stare at your fellow citizens from time to time and wonder what it is they could be hiding. If a demon slipped through the cracks you wouldn't be surprised. Sly in nature, persuasive in tone, that is how devils go about their daily lives alone The hymns they drilled into you all the way through elementary school echo and rebound in your mind.

Locking your bitter thoughts away you have to push yourself to not punt Zeke in the mouth when he teasingly blows a puff of hot smoke into your face.

Fingertips grazing with his he freezes at the sudden contact giving you the perfect opportunity to slip his cigar away and take it in between your lips. You allow for it to linger there but you aren't foolish enough to inhale its contents.

"Zeke, my dear friend. We shall soon be met with the fruits of our own labour but I assure you that discussing Marley's plan constantly will be of no benefit for you nor I."

The day you and Zeke had met had been at warrior training camp. Zeke was a miserable, unmotivated oaf. Always tripping and falling behind the rest of the warrior cadets. You felt rather bad for him, if you were born as unskilled as him you don't know what you would have made of yourself. Zeke, the only child of his parents ironically only ever ended up rising through the ranks after handing them over to the Marleyan government. His father and mother had been conspiring an escape plan but were executed immediately alongside their fellow team members once Zeke had outted them. Unexpectedly he was spared, the fact he turned on his own parents showed where his loyalties were. To his surprise, he was even allowed to continue his training with the other warriors - only this time everyone kept an increased distance away from him. The warriors weren't informed of what he had actually done but everyone had a gut feeling. Everyone apart from you stuck with that feeling. You thought strategically, If he were to become an enemy in the future you knew being close would come at your advantage.

The day you and Zeke had met your mother died, his mother passed away the same day. At least that's what he had told you.

The two of you bonded over the little things, told each other stories about your life at home. Reminisced about what it was you missed.

Then it all came crashing down the day Zeke confessed. The day he told you he killed his mother and father by handing them over to Marley. Your knees buckled underneath you, crashing the floor he tried to grab at you but you thrashed around in retaliation kicking and screaming not understanding why he did what he did. Yes, they were traitors but they were his parents and if the monster had the nerve to turn on the people who gave birth to him who's to say he wouldn't do the same to you or to Marley.

Zeke doesn't know it but ever since then you take the opportunity to sneak the occasional glance at him. Every single time you narrow your eyes in malice. If there's a man in Liberio who you don't trust in the slightest it's him, he must think the feud between the two of you from childhood has been put at rest but it hasn't.

Zeke takes another swig of his alcohol. On this occasion he downs it entirely slamming the glass down with vigour.

"ONE MORE GLASS BARTENDER!"

846, i.

Another day of extensive training is about to end, your back is layered in uncomfortable layers of sweat and the same can be said for your forehead. Kneeling down in the under layer of the forest you're hidden waiting to strike. Going up against the elites is nerve-wracking but you're sure you can pull it off so long as you stay calm during this game of hunters against prey.

It's simple enough if you can conceal yourself and stay out of sight. The robust trees that surround you act as decent enough camouflage and your green cape paired with them lets you veil yourself, keeping you further into the foreground, blending into the environment.

No one will be able to catch you if they can't see you.

All of a sudden your previous thoughts are thrown away when you sense something in the atmosphere has changed, the hissing of the wind behind you isn't natural.

Turning to your side you don't bother to cover up the sound of leaves rustling and branches cracking, your priority is slipping away fast enough to hide again, a tug can be felt at your cloak and your reaction time barely covers for you, your gear fastens itself to a low enough tree branch and the descent is mind numbing. Your breakfast churns in your stomach but you ignore the uneasy feeling, leaping and diving wherever you find a small enough gap. You believe you can outrun your huntsman.

That is until you sneak a glance back and your muscles nearly tense up in pure astonishment, you've been kicked in the teeth just by the man's presence. Captain, Levi slinks behind you weaving through the gaps with increasing speed, he's gaining momentum and all the while his face stays relaxed, this isn't even his full effort.

Terrified you dart upwards and then left, a corner comes into view - Levi should assume you've turned into it and so you rashly choose to dart back down. Much to your hard luck you find that his senses are well adapted, the direction of the wind is enough for him to trace your whereabouts.

The pursuit resumes, and he stays disturbingly relentless.

Arm shooting to the right you think perhaps making it look like you're aiming to fly somewhere else again will completely catch him off guard, he can't expect for you to pull the same trick twice.

Setting your plan into motion your finger pulls at the trigger but you startle when the cable doesn't come out, it's jammed. Panic seeps into you and to make matters worse your gas is running out.

Without warning you're thrust into the body of a nearby tree, the bark scrapes against you and scratches begin to form anywhere you've made contact with the jagged surface, you want to admit defeat but the warrior inside of you denies Levi the pleasure of seeing you beg. In its place you deliver a harsh kick to his thigh, you're aware he's injured it and you're certain there are no rules to say you can't play dirty. Your boots hammer against leg hard enough for him to give out and let go of your body, but then you realize you lost this game from the very moment your grapple hooks broke, you have nowhere to hold onto.

Before you can even let out a shriek of horror Levi's shot back to you, he frantically accelerates and by a miracle humanity's strongest is able to grab a hold of you again. This time you don't dig your heels into his leg and you allow for him to clutch you by the torso.

Within a minute the two of you descend towards the forest floor and Levi throws you into the dirt furiously.

"You could have died. Being foolhardy will only lead to an early death." He barks as he directs his blade towards your neck.

"Am I dead yet?" Whispering back your gaze isn't trained on the blade but right up at him.

His nostrils flare up, his hair sticks to his forehead haphazardly and the knuckles that hold his pointed blades are white in tangled dissatisfaction.

Grabbing you by the hips he flings you over his shoulder choosing to not continue with the confrontation.

"I know what you're up to." His voice is still rugged from the pursuit and it takes you a split second to register what he's said.

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches in your throat, no way, there's no way in hell he knows. He's sharp but he's not a mind reader.

Your position means he can't read your face seeing as you're facing his back, instantly steeling your features you let out a breathy laugh.

"And what may that be?" Silently you pray he's worded himself ambiguously to catch a slip up.

"Being gutsy, you think that makes you a good soldier. It doesn't."

Relief floods you. He doesn't know.

"Soldiers need to be brave." Your retort makes him grumble.

"If you die with no meaning by being reckless what's the purpose of being a soldier?" His question has you stopping and thinking on what the correct answer is.

Unable to think of an answer you ask another question.

"Are you saying your previous comrades died without meaning?"

"No. Their deaths fueled me slay more titans."

"So if I died back there who wou-" He swiftly cuts you off showing no inclination of wanting to hear what it is you have to say.

"I'll cut your tongue off if it's stupid." He clearly isn't serious about the threat but he does mean it when he warns you to not overstep.

Despite the consequences you say what's on your mind. "I just wanted to ask who would give my life meaning if I ever died. I don't have siblings and my parents died long ago."

Silence follows and the crunch of his boots against the muddy leaves tells you he probably doesn't wish to answer your question.

"Sorry-"

"I would. I would give meaning to your life." He says it with such ease you almost want to admire the enemy but you know he's said it because he feels he has to.

"You barely know me but I hope one day you can stop thinking everyone has to rely on you." You say it with taunting understanding.

Another bout of silence follows. Only this time the two of you feel warmly comforted, he doesn't understand how you've seen through his facade but it's easy for you to spot another liar.

846, ii.

Brows drawn back you observe your surroundings attempting to mask your scrutiny. The place is running amok with uncontrollable Eldian folk. The stench of unadulterated sin makes itself known but you seem to be the only person able to smell it. Eren bumps against the table you're sat at and your face twitches a little but you say nothing. You're yet to get used to these people's lack of manners.

At least that's how you force yourself to think. To be truthful, you don't quite understand what it is these people have done wrong. Ever since you've arrived you've been nitpicking at every single minor inconvenience or possible issue. A girl stole a potato and broke it into uneven pieces to share and you attempted to twist the story in your head to make her look like an unfair, greedy voracious demon but... you found yourself finding very little to actually be angry at. These people are essentially normal in every way of the word, they aren't demons and you can't help but feel yourself slip away from everything you once knew as reality. You're finding it difficult to believe what years of Marleyan education taught you, the hymns that were once drilled into your brain permanently are but a vague memory.

You feel disgustingly under-dressed and out of place, you don't belong here not when you're meant to hate these people, not when you're meant to despise them. You should be fighting the urge to shove their heads onto pitchforks or to skin them alive and feed them to pigs. Everyone back in Marley told you to control your impulses but now you're here and you've settled down even having the opportunity to converse with these individuals, share their pain, share their loss, share their suffering, you wonder why you have no impulses to control. Have they brainwashed you? Or is it that you're the real demon in this situation?

Fingers mingling with each other on your lap you sit hopelessly alone. Interacting with the so called enemy is much harder than you expect. Worry consistently bubbles in the pit of your stomach and every night is spent tossing and turning evaluating then reevaluating who the bad guy really is. At first the task of daily interaction isn't a big deal, you find it easy enough to approach members of the team and fake interest in their lives until the original plan falls through. You do become invested in your team members lives and stories that it comes to the point where you don't have to force yourself to smile at their jokes or to sympathize with their tales of grief. You become one of them and you swear you're meant to feel like a traitor but eerily you feel like you belong.

Nevertheless you try your best to stick with what you know. You're nothing like Zeke, you're loyal, capable, faithful and trustworthy. Never will you turn your back on Marley.

Rising to excuse yourself from dinner you think you've just about made it and escaped finally able to hide away in the confines of your bedroom but your lips form into a straight uncomfortable line at the feeling of someone's hand latching at your wrist. You're halfway down the hallway just a few more steps away from your bedroom. You hope it's one of the rookies.

"Oi, come here."

Head shooting backwards your eyes land on Levi, his dark curtains fall in front of his eyes - you note that he hasn't trimmed them as he usually does. Despite his size his grip is firm and your wrist squirms around a little trying to manoeuvre out of his bruising grasp. He seems to notice he's underestimated his strength once again and loosens his hold on you. Narrowed eyes analyse your anxious form, they're grey and in this lighting almost glow appearing silver. For a brief second your mouth is left ajar by the delicate but rough manner of his face.

"Everything Okay?" He doesn't typically seem to care very much about anyone, the question activates your senses and you're on full alert but the eye contact you make with him seconds later slows down the gears in your mind, they only whir and hum in anticipation completely coming to a halt.

"Yes, yes everything is okay." You're playing around with the hem of your shirt and you silently question when you were ever this nervous around anyone. You're a Marleyan soldier for heaven's sake not an unrestrained, unsupervised child left to play in a park.

Despite your clear inability to cushion and shield yourself from your Levi's stabbing gaze you attempt to appear as nonchalant as possible.

"I'll be going I just feel a little —" At first you had thought to fake you were ill but at the feeling of a sudden strike of pain you hold onto your stomach, the ache burns into your abdomen and without permission it travels higher up towards your ribs. "A little unwell." You manage to wheeze out. Hand placed onto a nearby cement wall your thought process is hasty speeding up by the second. Have they figured you out and had you poisoned? No, you barely ate anything today.

You hunch over feeling the bile crawl up your throat, on reflex you clamp your eyes shut not wishing to anger a superior by acting insolent and disposing of your dinner in the hallway. Shaky palms reach hesitantly for your lips and you force yourself to keep it in. Levi would commit a murder if you heaved and gagged letting it all out in front of him.

You motion towards the door trying to emphasize that you can handle yourself in the privacy of your room. Tears bite at the sides of your eyes and your vision is so blurred you can only make out the faint outline of the man who was just in front of you.

"Relax. I'll clean it." Your hair is brushed away from your face securely held back and you can't hold it in any longer, the acrid storm surges through your throat, you retch at the harsh sting it leaves behind. Breathing heavy, perturbed and anxious you gasp in all the air you can get.

"I knew you looked ill." His hands hold your jaw gently, the pads of his fingers are calloused but his touch remains soft. A tissue dabs at your mouth wiping away the excess untouched sick.

Just like the sick which surged through you less than a minute ago you feel something else entirely tear into you. You can't put a finger on it but it's dangerous for you to not feel contempt.

847, i.

Your heart accepts what your mind has been ignoring for months on end when Levi looks you square in the eyes after a heart wrenching expedition. The vacant look on his face is enough for the guilt to consume you whole but he doesn't know that. He doesn't know of your sins.

The wagon of corpses reeks of death and desperation. It's rotten and the smell is sickening. Forcibly you stop yourself from feeling any more grief. The despair isn't yours to go through.

Your first ever personal loss outside of the walls and you've learnt Paradis is not home to demons. Cheeks burning in mortification you can't formulate any thoughts on your own accord, instead they continuously emerge in bursts and finally a single thought sticks out from the rest - Are you aiding in the destruction of innocent human life?

The both of you are sat on guard duty with the corpses, half of the team has been wiped out in one sweep. Your trembling hands don't seem to want to steady any time soon and you sit there with your guilty conscience strangling you slowly, your airflow is getting shallower. Shorter, quicker breaths leave you. The imaginary gash in your chest is bottomless, and your lungs push and pull in a power struggle.

Levi's coarse hands abruptly hold onto yours and the floodgates open again, he doesn't know what you've done to him, done to his soldiers, done to his people. If he knew who you really were, would things be different?

"This was out of your control."

Do you tell him?

The question sits in your mind for a while until you shake your head. He takes it the wrong way and think you're responding to him.

"This was not your fault." For the first time in months you've heard his voice crack under pressure.

"Pe- Petra she- I could have taken one for the team and died instead of her." All that remains of your dear friend is her blood soaked cloak. Her body was one of the few that had to be hauled away earlier to decrease the carriage's load.

The fabric still smells of Petra, smells of honey and chamomile and the simple soap offered at the base, but it still smells of her.

Firm hands grab your shoulders and Levi's fingers dig sorely into your flesh.

"Don't."

"But I- I didn't contribute as much as her and she has family who are alive." Hiccuping you try to bare with the fact that you'll wake up tomorrow and not see her preparing breakfast for everyone else. You know you could have propelled her out of the way just in time if you hadn't been so taken aback by the entire situation.

"You were her comrade. She made the choice to die for you."

You want to reach out, sob into his chest and yell that you regret it all, scream and tell him about the secret you've been hiding. A sorry excuse of a comrade you are to let her die on the battlefield not knowing your true identity. The tears roll down your cheeks and Levi feels his heart constrict and squeeze as he comprehends the lack of regard you have for your life. "It should have been me." Is repeated over and over again, your eyes are raw and bloodshot, the vicious wind sinks its teeth into you.

"Then die."

"If you're willing for her life to have no meaning. Die." The words he spits out are as cutting as the bitter wind. He feels cheated and you're finally able to come to your senses.

He's faired much worse but you doubt he's ever acted out the way you have in front of another person. In this never-ending void of darkness locking away the dull ache caused by deafening loss is the best choice for everyone.

Much like the night you had been sick he takes a grip of your jaw and directs your face towards his, this time he's not as gentle as before but you conclude that it's because he's drained, completely exhausted from the battle. The eyes are the windows to the soul but Levi's window panes are shattered, completely crushed by the weight of the constant burden he has to carry.

"I'm sorry." You croak out the apology. He grits his teeth because he doesn't want you to apologize but he doesn't voice out his opinion. As a substitute he presses his arms against you, the terribly raw panic is murdering you. Levi's gruff voice is a mixture of faux irritation but mutual understanding.

"Cry." He allows for your head to loll against his shoulder.

As the dark envelopes both you and him the scent of the dead only becomes more and more pungent, recalling fond memories of Petra and the others you know your heart settles on a decision before your mind does. You're a two timing back stabbing traitor for this. What you hated Zeke for you have become yourself.

Disloyal, unfaithful and fickle.

That day you place your loyalties with Paradis.

847, ii.

Levi's wiping down one of the kitchen tables, you're kneeled on the floor scrubbing vigorously. The others have already given up, panting they've left using the excuse of fetching water from a nearby well. Your back aches but you find cleaning reassuring and somewhat of a decent distraction.

"Why do you like to clean?" You're used to Levi asking you abrupt questions by now, after all the two of you have been acquainted for well over a year now. Through that year he's learnt about you and you about him. When in the midst of what looks to be humanity's final year's, twelve simple months is enough to form a bond worth a decade.

"I'm not good at a lot but I am good at cleaning."

"You know that's not true idiot." The tone of his voice indicates that your answer doesn't please him.

"But I do think I'm good at cleaning? Maybe not as good as you but I am half decent."

"Not that. You're good at much more than half the people I've ever met." He sneers, his footsteps edge towards you. "Purely being a good person is a talent these days."

You suppress a flinch because you aren't a good person at all. Neither are you that middle ground between good and bad. Rough around the edges and uneven, you're shards of glass ready to slash and hack away at him if Marley somehow lures you back.

The confession, if you could even call it that catches you by surprise and anger fills you. You almost want for him to not trust you and call out your bluff. It's a little unnatural how badly you want for him to realize the truth.

Your head turns up to stare at the man who's a few steps away from you. "Or am I just good at acting genuine?"

You don't even mean to snap at him and you don't even realize you have until you see his eyes widen and mouth part in imperceptible surprise. Biting your tongue your attention is diverted back to the wooden floor. Driving your washcloth into the crevices and dips of the floorboards you ignore Levi's leather shoes which now stand right in front of you.

"Are you questioning my judgement of character?"

Be born in Marley, That's what you had done, trained to destroy people you thought to be devilish entities, foolishly chose to grow attached to the so called enemy. Your mind lingers onto a specific thought and you're deathly afraid to be thinking it in the first place but there's no more avoiding it.

Falling deeply in love with Levi is your worst mistake to date.

"What I did. It was out of my control." you reply, voice hard.

"Not disclosing what it was?" He asks.

Your silence is his answer. Kneeling down to where you are he disarms you, the washcloth is taken out of your hands and he places it onto a table.

"You are a good person." His voice is brusque and he states it like it's a fact, something you should know. Hot tears threaten to spill over, he's stupidly naive for not rethinking that opinion of his. Lips thinned and eyes watering you don't know how to feel.

"Levi. I'm sure you'd like to think that but I am not."

"You love the members of the corps unconditionally I can see it in the way you look at them."

"Sometimes you look a little sad when you stare." The last sentence he adds in has your pulse racing. He's right, you often feel miserable thinking about how everyone would react knowing who you really are.

"I'm not interested in bad people." He sounds distant saying such warm words and it takes a moment for them to actually sink in. You don't quite believe you've heard him correctly. The dread sinks to the bottom of your stomach and the feelings you've buried at the back of your mind hit you like a tsunami. The thought of him feeling the same way for you, is agonizing.

"Stop being ridiculous." The uncertainty is killing the both of you.

"Loving you is not ridiculous, if you don't feel the same way you can say that and I'll step away. We'll be back to normal."

"No, no, no. You don't get it. You're just saying that." Your voice quivers and the intensity of this new revelation is too large for you to cope with.

"Why would, you," He begins, voice just above a whisper, "ever think that way?"

"Why would you even look twice at me?" You reply.

"Because I worry for you."

"You worry for everyone."

"I worry for you the most."

Instead of letting you respond to him this time he carries on speaking.

"We both know we feel the same."

You already knew you were in love with Levi, you didn’t need for him to tell you. You knew you were in love when you tried to memorize his facial features, you knew you were in love when his laughter was the cause of your laughter, you knew you were in love when you threw yourself in front of that abnormal for him.

That's when you begin to understand what all his signals meant. You now knew why he'd let you stare so intently, you now knew why he laughed particularly hard when it was you who had made a joke, you now knew why he scolded you and nearly broke down at the sight of your injured arm after that specific expedition.

You know it. He knows it. You both know what this will lead to.

But you still lunge onto his lap, you still press your wobbly lips against his. You still choose to surrender yourself to him and he still reacts by taking a hold of your shaky hands which lay on his chest. He envelopes them in his warm grasp. Slowly but gradually the ice thaws and dissolves. Heartbreak, anguish and suffering when one of you loses the other will be the end of your romance, you're sure of it. Hell, the both of you are in the middle of a war but your heart flames up thinking of all of the possibilities.

Perhaps it'll play out the one way you wish for it not to.

Could your ending be in betrayal?

848, i.

"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded hus-"

"Cut the crap and kiss me." Levi's crude interruption isn't appreciated by Erwin but everyone knows Levi doesn't care all that much for formalities and hates being in the spotlight for too long.

Gripping him by the collar of his suit your lips are a centimetre away, he stops you tightening the hold he has on your waist. His lips gently press against your collarbone and his breath meanders towards the shell of your ear.

"Swear you won't die on me."

Gulping you look away apprehensively. You know you can't promise that.

“Oi, I’m expecting an answer.” His voice flickers slightly.

Forefinger holding your chin up you see your soon to be husband close to tears, he valiantly blinks them away. Levi has never been one to make his pain public and your heart twists in your chest as you realize just how much of a hold his feelings for you have over him.

"I can't promise that, you know it'll only hurt more." The strange bitter taste in your mouth won't let you comply with his request and by measuring his reaction you see his eyes cloud in an unidentifiable emotion, you're sure it's nothing positive.

"We may not have a happy ending Levi but we'll always have a happy middle."

Levi scoffs in derision, he has to think your attempt at being meaningful is ridiculous.

You lean into him and it's all so heart-wrenchingly familiar yet foreign. His body sags comprehending that not everything will go the way he wants it to. One of you is guaranteed to leave first.

Hands finding purchase in the cloth of his white dress shirt Levi doesn't cringe at you creasing the fabric as he usually does. He allows for you to call the shots this time, your lips brush faintly against his before you nosedive into him. No resistance is felt and he replies almost immediately. Everyone applauds as his fingertips press into the back of your skull and you find that this is all incredibly hideous. The innate disloyalty you feel, you throwing your entire life away for this man but you find yourself not caring. To hell with that miserable life crammed with sin.

Levi smiles against your mouth, you assume you're meant to magically smile back but you can't make yourself. It's uncomfortable relishing in the undeserved happiness knowing it won't last forever.

The world you live in isn't ideal nor is it forgiving.

Momentary joy is all an antagonist can hope for.

849, i.

Jean can’t take his eyes off the newly weds.

You’re cooing into your Levi’s ear gently, his cheeks flush scarlet at the feeling of your hot breath against his skin and he scolds you for having the gall to rile him up in public.

Jean sniggers finding some sort of odd delight from the interaction - he’s never seen the Captain this content and at ease.

849, ii.

You don't know why you've dragged yourself out of bed just to stare at your husband's face but you have, despite the toll life has had on him he seems sound for once. His breathing peaceful yours is anything but that. When it's dark the weight becomes heavier, your skin tingles and your throat burns aching for release.

Eyes blurring your hands shake reaching out for him but you can't find the courage to make contact. Nothing will ever warrant plaguing him even more with your existence.

The memories become increasingly bitter.

"If we make it out of this alive we'll have children and they'll look just like you."

"I want them to look like you." had been your reply.

Levi winced not seeming to like the idea.

"No, I want them to look like you. You're beautiful."

How wrong he was for thinking that.

You, beautiful? He'd stab himself ten times over if he knew just who exactly he had said those words to.

850, i.

Zeke had betrayed you after finding out who you were to Levi but you half expected that he would tell him the truth at some point regardless of that fact.

Tear stains travel through the mud and grime on your face, Levi's eyes are indifferent as he twists his wedding ring off his finger flinging it into the surrounding rubble.

Without your permission he yanks your arm forwards intending to take your matching ring away but you hold on digging your heels into the dirt beneath you.

"You disgusting bitch. Give me it."

You scream, high and awful, he continues jerking at your arm the muscle throbs crying out for him to stop but he doesn't and no one steps in to put a halt to any of it. Levi having had enough grabs at your neck ruthlessly. In any other circumstance he'd be labelled callous or cruel but everyone on the battle field shares a similar empathy for their Captain. Neither they or Levi had expected your disloyalty.

"I said give me the ring if you know what's good for you." His fingers slide around your neck, his seemingly low words cling onto the little respect he has left for you.

"No." Your defiance has his eyes hardening in and posture tensing. "I'm not handing it over."

Levi says nothing, he only holds onto your throat tighter, if he really keeps at it your windpipe will be crushed in no time. You know he's holding out on purpose, he's still giving you a chance. He expects for you to stand your ground, say you never deceived Paradis, say something, anything to make him let go of you.

"Marrying you... It just happened somehow. I know it was selfish of me." He squeezes harder. "I know it was. I'm sorry Levi." Gasping and breathless you clench and unclench your fists finding it too difficult to explain.

Your mouth opens, you want to tell him you haven't seduced him like he thinks you have, tell him you dropped that plan of yours long ago but then you falter at the last second. It's typically hard to tell when Erwin's infuriated but it's painfully obvious when you make eye contact with him over Levi's trembling shoulders. It's enough to tell you to give up. Enough to tell you that you're beyond redemption, you've ran and hid long enough.

"Hand over your titan." Levi says nothing to Erwin's proposition, the hold he has on your neck loosens but his silence is sickening. It means he agrees.

This is fate's idea of a cruel joke.

But you agree, on the basis of one condition.

"Fine but-"

Levi cuts in, all regard for you devoid from his system.

"You're in no place to be making demands." He snarls, his patience quickly running thin.

However Erwin urges you to continue speaking taking you aback.

"If it's not too much maybe we can accommodate your final wish." Erwin had always been thoughtful in nature and you thank him for even bothering to show you a sliver of benevolence.

Everyone's looking, all eyes are on you. Some are blinking away tears, others are disgusted unable to stare at you for more than a few seconds at a time. Levi falls into the latter.

Brazen with not an ounce of shame you mention the ring again. "Let me keep it." Your left hand covers your right and underneath the flesh is the last symbol left of your union with Levi.

Whispers and murmurs orbit you, none of them are kind and Levi loses it.

His reflexes are paralyzing, he's back at it clawing your neck mercilessly but you don't scream or shriek as you did previously. You take it, you let him unload his frustration.

"Levi. Let it go for the sake of humanity." Erwin says pointedly. Irritation pricks him, he wants this over and done with and your rebelliousness doesn't look as if it'll be tamed any time soon unless you're given what you want.

Levi's face is crimson, the fresh blood from the expedition still steaming. "Y/N, I'll saw your arm off if I have to." But, you know he's already given into Erwin's orders when he throws you to the ground letting you crash and wheeze for breath.

850, ii.

Levi's been appointed to guard you for your final night alive. The room feels wistful as you think back wondering if the life you lived was respectable.

"Why did you stare at me when I slept? Did you think of killing me?" Half commanding and half pleading his voice cracks. He coughs attempting to cover it up.

You jolt not expecting the interaction at all and you're not the slightest bit surprised that he had seen you all those nights staring so deeply. He'd always been a light sleeper. You turn your head up hoping he's looking at you.

He isn't.

"I wanted our children to look like you. I think you're beautiful."

It's now his turn to recoil, only he does so in repulsion remembering the familiarity of those words. They had left his own lips not too long ago.

"I'd never have children with the likes of you." He sounds tense then.

You understand. No one would want to have children with someone as hated and as despicable as you.

"I know." You whisper faintly.

850, iii.

When Erwin's eyes glaze over unable to focus on anything in particular Levi assumes it's him growing used to the titan powers. What he doesn't expect is for his Commander to bang his head against the floor unrelenting screaming your name.

Pairs of hands move to stop him but he thrusts them aside wailing. Levi stresses trying to figure out what it is you could have done in the wake of your death.

But Erwin Smith. Courageous, brave Erwin Smith, who never cracked at loss of life for the sake of humanity, who always eloquently spoke to everyone around him at all times, finds himself slumping down to his knees and weeping for you.

The warm blood from his self inflicted assault still trickles down his nose, a tremor shakes through his entire body when he thinks of breaking the news to Levi.

The edge in Erwin’s voice grows dangerous.

"We made the wrong choice."

Erwin can't word it any better than that.

But Levi understands right away, he wishes he didn’t, he wishes he was ignorant enough not to.

Hange sticks an arm out aiming for his shoulder but he stumbles away nearly falling back into the floor not wanting to be touched by anyone.

He finds that he is not human enough to cry. It’s that or he’s not human at all without your presence.

854, i.

Levi has grown old without you, lived to see months and new seasons without you by his side. Over time his eyelids have become heavier, the corners of his mouth naturally droop and he remains perpetually somber.

Sometimes you visit him in his dreams, each time you make a silly comment about how his grey eye bags make him look like he’s been punched in the face. “Levi Ackerman, I swear if you don’t sleep soon!” You cushion the blow by whispering sweet nothings, reassuring him that you still think he’s beautiful.

Occasionally you add in that you don’t blame him for the past, but those conversations only last for a few seconds at a time.

“I don’t blame you.” It always starts off with the exact same phrase.

“I should have listened to you.” Levi’s tone is stern and uncompromising .

“Lev, I was never going to tell you to spare my life. You tried to listen to me, I could tell you wanted me to deny it.”

Levi refuses to answer you, he still thinks he’s at fault.

Not a day goes by where he doesn’t think of that ring. He regrets throwing it away recklessly into the rubble.

Some day he’ll return to Shiganshina to find it. The idea sounds laughable but he has to find a reason to smile as he fights for his life.

That is what Levi thinks as two set’s of jaws snap shut onto his legs, a flurry of red surrounds him. His throat constricts at the feeling of his thighs being ripped away from the rest of him.

“I tried.” He whimpers to no one in particular, eyes blank and losing meaning.

“I know Levi, I know.” The same voice from his dreams soothes him.

“Do not despair. Find me again in another world.” The biting wind adds in.

Levi’s eyelids flutter shut unable to do much else.

He’s unsure if he has the courage to face you again in another lifetime.

2K notes · View notes

frostedfaves · 3 years

Text

Dark Paradise

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!WandaNat x fem!reader

Summary: You meet the infamous Avengers on spring break with your best friend Peter, and two of them seem to adore you more than expected. Requested here by my lovely 🐞anon.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! dark themes, manipulation, mind control, blackmailing, age gap (reader is 21), dubcon (saying this just to be safe because Wanda uses her powers for evil a lot here), smut: oral, fingering, penetration/sex toy use, voyeurism (kinda), edging, overstimulation (if I forgot something please let me know!)

A/N: hi this is 6k words, which is the longest single fic I’ve ever written/posted here haha. also the end is not technically the end, if you know what I mean. anyway this took forever to write so enjoy this super far from canon fic and please tell me what you thought!! (also if you’re on my taglist and you weren’t tagged it’s because your age wasn’t in your bio)

“Here, let me take that for you,” Peter offers when he notices you headed toward the car, and you hand your suitcase to him with a smile.

“Thanks, P.”

You close the car door behind you after getting in on the passenger side, instantly reaching for his phone resting on the dashboard once you were buckled in. The two of you had an unspoken rule that you controlled the music whenever you traveled together, so his library was filled with various playlists you’d created simply because you didn’t trust him not to listen to the same five songs for the rest of his life.

“This is different,” Peter comments as he gets in on the driver’s side and catches the opening notes to an upbeat song. “I thought you were going to go with something calmer to help you sleep, like you usually do.”

“Well, I’m not usually going to meet the Avengers, so I’m too nervous to sleep.” You turn to pout at him as he drives off. “Is it too late to cancel?”

“Don’t even think about it. If I show up without you, everyone will think you’re imaginary.”

“Do they think you can’t make any friends outside of Ned?” you question as you open a bottle of water. “Because they’re not wrong.”

“I can make friends!” Peter whines and a quiet snorting sound escapes you.

“You can’t use me as an example.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not actually friends.”

He picks up on your teasing nature and rolls his eyes, causing you to laugh as you lean back and settle into your seat more. You had well over three hours to stress about spending a week with the world’s most popular superheroes, and you’d rather be comfortable while you do so.

“Wake up, we’re here!”

Your eyes fly open at the sound of Peter’s voice, and any of the nerves that left long enough to let you sleep made a U-turn and hit you again, full force. Sitting up straight in the seat, you practice breathing properly while stretching and taking a look around as he pulls into the garage.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks once he parks, placing a hand over yours as he meets your gaze and you smile.

“I’ll be fine, P. I’m not gonna miss out on hanging out with you just because your super family is super intimidating.”

“Good. Besides, it won’t even be that bad! I’m willing to bet $1 million that they’ll love you.”

“I appreciate your optimism,” you tell him as the two of you get out of the car. “But you’re going to regret that bet when I use your money to retire early in some faraway rural town.”

Peter carried both suitcases as you made your way to an elevator, and you jumped when you suddenly heard a male voice.

“Welcome, Mr. Parker and Ms. L/N.”

“What is that?” you questioned as you faced Peter with wide eyes and he chuckled.

“You’re hearing Jarvis, Mr. Stark’s AI. Hey Jarvis, can you take us to the common room, please?”

“Right away, Mr. Parker.”

“This is so cool,” you comment as you look around the suddenly moving elevator. “How does it know my name?”

“Knowing everything is kind of its job, I guess.”

“Underoos!” a voice calls as soon as the doors open, quickly revealing itself to belong to Tony Stark as his gaze lands on you next. “So she is real.”

“I told you!” Peter defends as you step off the elevator together. “Mr. Stark, this is Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, kid,” Tony greets you with a shake of your hand. “I’m glad he found you. I was starting to worry that he’d build a robot to spend the rest of his life with.”

“I’m just his best friend, so it’s still possible.”

“Is this your friend, Peter?” Steve cuts off Peter’s response as he enters the room, moving to shake your hand next. “I’m Steve. Nice to meet you.”

“Okay, I’m going to show her to our rooms and then we’ll be back for dinner,” Peter tells everyone once you’d been introduced to Pepper, Bruce and Clint as well, and you’re about to head for the elevator again when someone interrupts.

“How about we take her down to her room instead?”

Your eyes widen as you watch none other than Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff enter the room hand in hand. Natasha’s hair seemed much longer than the last time she’d been in the public eye, but her all-knowing smirk was just the same and her green eyes were even more piercing in person. You noticed a bit of red glowing in Wanda’s eyes, which faded as she probably realized you’d seen, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that meant she hated you already.

“I know what you’re up to, Red.” Tony seemed accusatory as he pointed a finger at the pair. “You can’t bribe her into helping you cheat tonight.”

“Maybe I planned on giving her tips for surviving this testosterone filled tower.”

Natasha steps forward and grabs your hand with her free one, and with a flick of her wrist, Wanda has your suitcase floating in front of you as they lead you into the elevator.

“Sorry to whisk you away like that,” Wanda apologizes as the doors close with her head tilted to see you past Natasha. “We’re just excited to meet a new woman here.”

“No, it’s okay!” you insist breathlessly, your nerves slowly returning as Natasha lightly squeezes your hand. “I’m actually really excited to meet the two of you.”

“You know who we are?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I know you personally, but I know that you’re one of the original team members.” You make eye contact briefly with Natasha before turning to Wanda. “And because the news stations somehow get ahold of everything, I know you joined after you helped everyone stop Ultron before he could create that indestructible body and destroy the world.”

“Yes, that’s true. Although I wish I could’ve saved my brother, too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you lost him...or that you even had a brother.”

“It’s okay,” Wanda assures you with a smile as she lets go of Natasha, shifting to the other side of the elevator to grab your free hand. “I asked Fury to keep Pietro a secret because I didn’t want to see or hear any negative opinions from people that never even met him.”

“And we have plenty of time to get to know each other,” Natasha chimes in as the doors open to reveal a new setting. “This is our floor. We set up a spare bedroom here so we can spend time together away from the boys...when you’re not with Peter, of course.”

“Yeah, that’d be great!”

They lead you past their living room and kitchen, and you shamelessly admire the simple decor with little personal touches spread about. Turning into a hallway, Natasha walks ahead of you and Wanda to open a door to a bedroom.

“What do you think?” she asks with a smile that widens upon seeing your expression. “I’m guessing it’s good, then.”

“It’s perfect!” you cry out as you walk past to enter the room, immediately noticing the eggshell colored walls trimmed with your favorite color along the borders. “Wow, this is four times the size of a normal bedroom. Wait a minute.”

“Do you like it?” Wanda asks when she sees you pick up the glass figurine on the nightstand. “Peter mentioned your love of this animal and I have a whole collection of them from different places.”

“Like it? I love it! I have the same one in my dorm room!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can get you a different one.” She steps forward as she brings your suitcase to the floor beside the bed and you hug the small object close to your chest.

“Like I said, it’s perfect,” you assure her with a grin, which brings one to her own face.

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy with the set up. When you’re ready to head up to dinner, we’ll be waiting by the elevator. Also, if you ever need anything, our room is right across the hall.”

Natasha points to the closed door a few feet away, and you acknowledge her statement with a nod before they leave the room, closing your door nearly all the way behind them. You flop down on the bed with a dreamy sigh as you gaze up at the ceiling with a night sky painted on it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave this place.”

On the elevator ride up to join everyone for dinner, Natasha and Wanda take turns asking you questions about your classes and any friends you’d made, what you liked to do when you weren’t studying. You had to admit that the level of interest they had with you was shocking but flattering, especially when they insisted you sit between them at the table to continue your conversation.

“You don’t seem to be nervous anymore,” Peter acknowledges as you sit down, and Wanda faces you immediately.

“Were you nervous about meeting us?”

“Well, yeah,” you answer timidly, avoiding catching anyone’s curious glances by directing a glare toward Peter. “You might be normal people in here, but to the rest of the world, you’re portrayed as powerful and untouchable beings.”

“Maybe when they’re not talking about how much damage we’ve caused,” Bruce mumbles under his breath as the elevator doors opened again.

“I’m here, I’m here!” a voice calls as footsteps hurry toward the dining area, and Sam Wilson is revealed as he rounds the corner. “Sorry, I’m late. I was--”

“On a date, we know. You only told us that 500 times.”

“Don’t be jealous, old man. You’re married.” Sam grins at Clint as he sits next to him before his attention turns to you. “Do we have a newbie?”

“No, Mr. Wilson. This is my best friend, Y/N.”

“Call me Sam, kid.” He smiles at you as he goes for his silverware, and you’re just about to acknowledge him when his expression suddenly turns serious. “I’m sorry. You’re not a kid. You’re an independent and capable adult, and I should address you as such.”

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know.” Sam clears his throat and shakes his head as if he was clearing his mind. “I just suddenly felt the need to correct myself…You have any powers we should know about, Y/N?”

“No!” you quickly respond with widened eyes. “I wasn’t going to say anything, actually. I’m pretty used to older people calling me kid by now.”

From your left side, Natasha asks Clint to recall an embarrassing tale for you and the table livens up again, but you can’t seem to move past the unsettling way Sam shifted gears from calm and casual to uptight and disciplined. The image stayed with you through the rest of dinner even after he seemed to fully recover, until dishes were cleared away and replaced with games, and you suddenly had a lot more to focus on.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that he gets to be on your team again when I haven’t had him once.”

“Is anything fair with the guy who could use his personalized AI to cheat for him?”

“Could I do that? Yes. But have I done that? Maybe.”

“Wanna grab some fresh air with us?” Natasha suddenly asks you, causing you to frown.

“Aren’t we about to play another game?”

“It’ll take them another half hour before they finally decide something,” Wanda assures you as her fingers thread through yours gently. “We have plenty of time, and they won’t even notice we’re gone.”

They lead you by the hand to the elevator once more, going up a few floors before leading you out onto a balcony. Because you were so much higher than most of the surrounding buildings, there was an incredible view of the sun that was probably minutes away from disappearing to the other side of the world. The air is chillier than when you’d arrived, but you had to admit that standing in the cool breeze is worth a few goosebumps on your skin. Your hands are released as you reach a bench near the ledge, and you climb over it to sit as the other two women settle on either side of you.

“Why did Peter decide to share his secret with you?”

“Technically he didn’t,” you recall with a laugh. “He’d gone out to deal with something that activated his spider sense or whatever and I came to his dorm room to sleep after an exam because I was too tired to walk all the way to my place. Anyway, I walk in at the same time he’s coming back in through the window, and I swear we both sat there for a full two minutes before either of us could think of anything to say.”

“It’s still very nice of you to keep such a big secret for him,” Natasha praises, and your laughter quiets down as you take in her words.

“I guess I just know what it feels like to not want your life to change drastically because of one thing.” Your gaze shifts between the women for a moment. “That reminds me, I wanted to ask--”

“Wait, look at this!” Wanda quickly cuts you off with an enthusiastic grin. “You’re about to witness one of my favorite things about living here.”

She directs you to lean over and look at the streets as the sun finally disappears over the horizon, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes you. Street lights begin turning on at what seems to be the center of the city and quickly spreading, increasing the radius of well-lit neighborhoods by the second. It was a mesmerizing sight that--until every lamp was on--nearly made you forget the question you were building toward.

“That was so cool!” you express honestly before clearing your throat awkwardly. “So I wanted to ask if the two of you were dating...or in a relationship or whatever. I mean, I don’t want to assume anything of course, just wondering because you share a room and floor, and you seem to be really into holding hands.”

“Well, I’d never really been into holding hands or a lot of other forms of affection before I met Wanda, but she seemed to flip some switch inside of me.” Natasha admitted with a bashful chuckle as she glanced at Wanda before turning to study you. “And your hands are so perfect to hold.”

“To answer your question, we are together.” Wanda rests a hand on your thigh and casts a sweet smile in your direction when you face her again. “Natasha was the first to give me a chance after everything with Ultron, and initially I thought I was just feeling grateful to receive some type of positive attention from someone other than Pietro. It wasn’t until Tash called me out on staring at her lips that I realized I wanted more than friendship.”

“The only reason I did was to confirm she was feeling the same things I’d finally come to terms with myself.” Natasha chuckles as Wanda sends over a bit of red mist to squeeze her own thigh. “What about you, love?”

“What about me?”

“Do you think you’re feeling more than friendship for Peter?”

“Oh no,” you quickly denied with a chuckle. “He’s the perfect example of a great boyfriend, but not my boyfriend. Plus I’d rather not have the same experience as MJ did.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, the ‘close friends to a relationship that ends with each person pretending the other doesn’t exist’ experience. I’d rather not.”

“Yeah, that does sound messy,” Natasha sighs as she subtly rests her hand on your other thigh. “So you’re not looking for a great boyfriend. What are you looking for then?”

“Nothing really, at least until I finish school, but having a girlfriend would be nice. I’d like to be with someone that respects me and can take care of themselves when I’m not around, because I tried the ‘caring for someone’ thing and it sucks when they don’t put in the same effort that you do.”

“Maybe you should try someone older, more mature,” Natasha suggests as she shifts to squeeze your knee lightly, and you start to feel a bit nervous about where she’s going with this. “Maybe two people that already have their shit together and would go to the ends of the earth to please you.”

“Okay, um…” You push both of their hands away with a bit of difficulty. “You both seem great and you’re incredibly attractive, but I’m not really interested.”

“Don’t worry about it, detka.” Natasha pushes your shoulder down as you try to get up, and Wanda cups your cheek with her hand.

“You may not be interested now…” She stands with Natasha and leans in to kiss your forehead, letting her lips linger on your skin as she continues. “But you will be.”

She pulls away and winks before lacing her fingers through Natasha’s as they leave the balcony, and you gasp in air as the tension they’d built seems to exit behind them. You finally decide to head back once you’ve taken a few minutes to catch your breath and calm your shaking limbs, but you wonder how long the calm will truly last.

You found yourself waking up suddenly and practically flying into a sitting position as if someone had pulled you up, but luckily the room is empty. You sit for a moment to catch your breath and survey your surroundings to assure you’re truly alone, and you notice your door is cracked right before you hear an unidentifiable sound.

“Fuck.”

Despite every fiber of your being screaming at you as one would do to a character in a horror film, you decide to climb out of bed to investigate what you were hearing, justifying your actions with the excuse of seeing if your floor-mates were in danger, as if you could save them. A few seconds after opening your door fully and peeking out made you realize that they were more than okay.

“Fuck! Right there, please don’t stop.”

“Such a dirty mouth, malyshka.”

You’re quick to return the door to its cracked position, leaning against the nearby wall with wide eyes as you attempt to process the image across the hall. The bedroom door sits wide open, giving you the chance to examine every inch of bare skin of the two women spread across the bed, Wanda resting on her arched back with her hands in Natasha’s red hair buried between her legs. Her moans seem to raise in volume, pitch and frequency as she’s brought closer and closer to the edge, and you ignore the warm feeling in your lower abdomen as you hurry back to bed and throw a pillow over your exposed ear.

“Good morning.”

Your free hand quickly shoots upward to catch your water glass as it slipped through your fingers in your moment of shock, and you try not to make a deal of hearing two sets of footsteps headed toward the kitchen.

“How’d you sleep last night? I know how scary it can be to rest your eyes in a new place.”

“I think I did pretty well,” you answer quietly as you step away from the fridge and lean against a section of the counter that faces out into the rest of the room. “The bed’s really nice.”

“You’re lying,” Wanda accuses as she crosses the room, eyes turning red and hands lifting toward your face.

“What are you--”

“Couldn’t sleep because of us, right?” She chuckles when you go limp under her touch, and Natasha ducks between the two of you to save your glass for the second time. “Did you enjoy hearing us that much?”

“You did sound really good,” you tell her with a drowsy smile as she pins you against the counter to keep you from falling.

“I bet you wish you were in my place, don’t you?” Her tone is light and teasing at first, becoming a bit stern as she shifts to push her thigh between your legs and you instantly roll your hips against the pressure. “Or maybe you want to taste me while Natasha fucks you?”

“No.”

“No?!” she fires back immediately, leaving a red mist around your temples as she grabs your waist with both hands to keep you grinding against her. “You mean you don’t want to cum right now?”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

A breathy moan escapes you as your eyes flutter closed, and if your head wasn’t being forcefully held in place, it would’ve tipped backward. You feel what must be Natasha’s fingertips grazing along your jaw and tracing a line down the side of your neck and toward your shoulder, repeating the gentle motion as goosebumps appeared all over the exposed skin.

“Is everyone decent?”

The fog behind your eyes seems to clear in seconds, and you blink in confusion when you open your eyes to see Natasha and Wanda making coffee nearby. You try to recall even coming into the kitchen, but everything from the moment you stepped into the bathroom to get ready is a blur, so you shake your head and reach for your glass of water on the counter as Natasha responds.

“Come in, Peter.”

“Morning, everyone,” Peter greets cheerfully as he enters the kitchen, his grin falling when his eyes land on you. “Are you okay?”

You open your mouth with the full intention of telling him that you are not okay, not when you were missing at least an hour of memory, and bits of last night were slipping away from you too. But before you could speak, a cold feeling seems to pass through the back of your skull to slip into your brain, and a switch flips.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you respond with a chuckle. “You worry too much, spiderling.”

“The world’s a stressful place,” he grumbles when you playfully ruffle his hair. “Anyway, are you ready to go soon?”

“Where are you headed?” Natasha quickly asks with a frown. “Y/N hasn’t even had breakfast yet.”

“We’re meeting Aunt May, so we’ll eat with her.”

“I just have to grab my bag,” you explain before heading down the hall to your temporary room, feeling the chilly sensation leaving you as you get further away from the kitchen, and it thankfully doesn’t return when you head back. “Ready.”

“Have fun!” Natasha calls as Peter heads for the elevator again, quickly grabbing your wrist once he’s out of sight. “See you tonight, printsessa.”

Her hand quickly shifts to grip the back of your neck as she leans in to kiss your cheek, and the two women are wearing sweet smiles as you turn away from them to catch up with Peter, attempting to shake the shell-shocked expression from your features.

“You sure you’re good?”

“I’m fine,” you insist as the doors close, in hopes that you really would be fine.

Meeting Peter’s aunt was much more of a pleasant experience than you expected, and it was obvious she adored you by the way she spoke to you, although part of you felt she was just happy Peter had more people around to love him. Your day was cut a bit short when MJ unexpectedly approached Peter, requesting to talk to him, and Aunt May offered to drive you back to the tower so you both could escape that awkward mess of a conversation.

“It was so great to meet you today,” you tell her with a grin as you take off your seatbelt.

“Likewise, honey. You have my number so just call me if you ever need anything, okay?”

She pulls you into a hug over the middle console and you thank her again for the ride as you get out of the car, trying not to seem too nervous when you notice Natasha and Wanda standing in the lobby. Your plan was to walk past them without speaking, but you should’ve known that wouldn’t work.

“Why was she hugging you?” Natasha asks coldly as you enter the building and you sigh.

“She was just saying goodbye--wait. Why am I explaining myself to you?”

You keep walking until they’re no longer in your peripheral, stopping abruptly as a red mist surrounds your legs, and your eye-rolling is cut short when Wanda appears in front of you and grabs your chin harshly.

“If Tash asks you a question, you answer.”

“Without attitude,” Natasha adds, which makes you want to roll your eyes again.

“Sorry, I didn’t get the rules handbook when I arrived. Can I go now?”

“You know what?” Wanda cuts off Natasha’s angry response with a smirk. “You can go.”

The red mist surrounding you disappeared, and despite the suspicious feeling that washed over you, you continued on toward the elevator with your head held high. You refused to let them get to you.

It was subtle at first. A slight tingling between your legs that you couldn’t seem to get rid of. In the very beginning, you were worried that something was wrong until you realized where the feeling was coming from when it turned into slow circles around your clit as you caught up with Peter in his room. By dinner, there was the added sensation of fingers curling inside you at a steady pace, and you hoped no one would notice your hips slightly bucking under the table as you attempted to repeatedly chase a release that never came.

A movie follows dinner today, and you make sure to cover yourself with a large blanket because you were still being edged and you couldn’t stop moving at this point. You even try to slide your hand into your sweatpants to finish the job yourself, and your jaw clenches in anger every time your fingers lock up because you know who’s responsible.

“Okay, you win!” you announce as you walk into the kitchen on Natasha and Wanda’s private floor, not missing the look shared between the two women. “I’m sorry I was rude earlier. Can you please just stop teasing me?”

“How about we help you finish instead?”

You should decline. You should just say ‘no’ because letting them finish you off tonight will turn into an attachment that you know you don’t want, nor are you ready for. Inviting them in will be equivalent to selling your soul, and you’re not sure you want to put a price on it. But the ache below your stomach is persistent, and if they won’t let you touch yourself, someone has to do it.

“Fine.”

“Don’t be so grumpy about it,” Wanda teases as she grabs your hand and starts leading you toward their bedroom. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

She pushes you back onto the surprisingly large bed as soon as you’re close enough, instructing you to take off your shirt and bra while she watches. Once your top half is completely exposed, she leans forward to run her hands from your shoulders down toward your nipples, circling them with her thumbs until they harden.

“I don’t like being teased.”

“Oh, you don’t?” she asks in a mocking tone as she reaches for the band of your sweatpants and pulls them down, placing her palm over the wet spot in your panties. “Then what’s this?”

“Please,” you beg through a quiet moan, bucking your hips again when she presses her thumb against your clit through the fabric. “Please just fuck me already.”

“Patience, detka.”

You watch with wide eyes as Natasha and Wanda both strip away their own sweatpants, revealing the toys tied to their legs. Natasha goes to untie hers while Wanda uses her powers to rip away your ruined panties in one fluid motion.

“There she is.”

Natasha puts her hand on Wanda’s back and forces her to bend over, and you bite your lip as her eyes flutter closed and mouth falls open while Natasha thrusts into her. You’re just about to grab Wanda’s hand to lead her where you want, when her eyes open suddenly with a glowing red surrounding her pupils, and your wrists are bound together over your head by an invisible force.

“Did you forget who’s in charge here?”

“Don’t get too cocky, malyshka,” Natasha reminds her as she grabs a fistful of her hair and slams into her, causing Wanda to moan and giggle at the same time.

“My apologies, Tash.”

You couldn’t help your sigh of relief as Wanda finally slid two fingers inside of you, her thrusts deepening each time as Natasha fucked her toward you with her hands on her hips. The sounds coming from your mouth and between your legs were embarrassingly loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as she brought you closer and closer to the edge, until a loud whine escaped you as she removed her fingers and delivered a slap to your glistening folds.

“Tell me who this belongs to,” she orders through her own moans, holding you down when you begin grinding into her hand. “I’m gonna cum regardless of what you do, so you’d better answer. Be a good girl like I know you can.”

“Yours!” you cry out finally, sighing when Natasha leans into your line of sight with a brow raised. “It’s yours and Natasha’s.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She slips back into you without warning, and your back arches off the bed as she finally brings you to orgasm. She continues to thrust into you as you whine and squirm away, luckily slowing down and finally stopping as Natasha makes her cum a minute later, leaving the strap inside of her as they both catch their breath. Wanda pulls out of you and sits up to lean against her, holding her hand up between them as they both clean your cum off her fingers with their tongues, and you sit there clenching around nothing as you watch.

“You seem tired,” Natasha comments as her eyes land on you again.

“Too bad we’re not done.”

Wanda flips you onto your stomach with a quick motion of her fingers, using her hands to pull you by the waist until you’re on your knees at the edge of the bed, and she holds one side of your waist as she delivers a slap to your ass this time. Her touch lingers as she pulls away to free her own strap, and you nearly fall over when you feel the tip of the toy rub against your clit.

“Wait, let me fuck her this time.”

You hear their soft laughter as they switch places, sharing a kiss in the process, and you gasp when a hand wraps around your neck and pulls you up against Natasha’s chest.

“I like having you this close to me, printsessa,” she whispers in your ear, chuckling when you melt against her as she pushes the tip of her strap into you. “How many times do you think I can get you to cum?”

Her grip on your throat is loose as she allows you to adjust to the size, tightening suddenly when she slams into you once, twice, until every thrust is at a rough pace that you wouldn’t be able to handle if she wasn’t holding you against her by the waist. You feel that same tingling circling your clit again, occasionally traveling upward to tease your nipples as well, and it wasn’t long before you were releasing a strangled scream as you climaxed.

Natasha eventually stops thrusting into you as your legs shake, and you breathe out another sigh of relief when she allows you to fall onto the mattress. However, the relief is short-lived when you realize that she only paused to let Wanda push into her from behind, and it wasn’t long before the two of them found a rhythm that was pleasing them and ruining you.

Your wrists are freed as Natasha pulls out of you some minutes later, and you collapse onto one side of the bed with your body aching a bit from a third orgasm, your eyes only halfway open as you watch the pair. They remove the straps from their waists and set them aside, and you become a bit more alert when you notice Natasha grab what seems to be a double-ended dildo.

“No more. I can’t,” you mumble tiredly as your wrists are bound by Wanda’s power again.

“One more, and you can,” she tells you as she flops onto the bed beside you, and that red mist surrounds her fingers again as she guides you onto your knees to hover above her face. “You wanted to cum, so you don’t get to run from this.”

Her hands grab your waist and pull you closer, and you release a shuddering moan as her tongue runs past your hole and over your clit, teasing it a few times with the tip of her tongue before diving in to wrap her lips around it. She alternates between sucking your clit and slipping inside you as Natasha climbs on the bed behind you to position herself with the new toy.

“Fuck,” Wanda attempts to say once Natasha begins thrusting, and you fall forward as the vibration of her moans become too much, whining when Natasha slides her hands over your breasts and pulls you back up again.

“Take it all like a good girl.”

She keeps pulling until your head drops against her, and she moans against your neck while she kisses and sucks on your skin, bouncing faster on Wanda who groans loudly in response as she attempts to match each thrust. The hums of her voice has you grinding against her tongue, and you yelp when Natasha bites down just as Wanda brings you over the edge. She keeps going despite your protests, managing to get you to cum once more before they finally do.

You lie there with your bones feeling like jelly as you’re covered with a blanket minutes after everyone’s bathroom trip, too tired to even fight for sleeping in your own bed as Natasha and Wanda slide in on either side of you.

“You did so well tonight, detka,” Wanda praises as she strokes your cheek with a loving stare. “I can tell you’ll be a great addition to our relationship. I knew it from the moment I saw you.”

“I’m not doing this again,” you insist as the smile fades from her expression. “I’m not getting in a relationship with two women that don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and I’d prefer sleeping in my own bed.”

“You’re already in a relationship with us, printsessa,” Natasha growls as she shoves you back down when you try to get up, and you push her hand away.

“There’s nothing you can say that’ll make me want to be with you.”

“It’s not about what you want to do. It’s about what you have to do.” She grabs your phone from the nightstand, and you’re somehow not even surprised when she unlocks it on the first try. “Because it’d be a shame if someone was to tell Peter about all the nudes you have of him.”

You snatch the phone from her grip, eyes widening as you scroll through your camera roll, finding naked pictures of Peter scattered throughout it. You check the date on the oldest one and began to feel nauseous when you saw it was taken not even a month after the two of you met.

“Don’t think you’ll be deleting those either, because we can replace them and make things worse.” Her smile was falsely sweet and troubling as she grabbed your chin to force you to make eye contact. “We’ve gone this long without having you, and we’ll do whatever it takes not to lose you.”

Tags: @cordeliaswhore @egotisticalstoner @muralskins @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @madamevirgo @teenwonder @honeyvenable @slut-for-nat

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multifandomimagines · 3 years

Text

Let Me Show You - A Theo Raeken Imagine

Characters: Theo Raeken x Reader

Word Count: 3469

Summary: Reader is feeling stressed and insecure, so Theo wants to be there for her and make her feel perfect.

Warnings: Smut (female-receiving oral and vaginal), insecurity, mentions of IED

Written by: Josie

A/N: Keep reading after the cut 👀

Disclaimer: GIF isn’t ours - credit to who it belongs to

Y/N sighed as the puffy red eyes of her reflection stared back at her through the mirror. This week had been… different. Every little thing had been going wrong, and each day brought more and more emotion, stress and insecurity. Her under-eyes were dark with exhaustion and her smile wasn’t as bright as it usually was - that is, when it showed itself anyway.

She didn’t even hear when her bedroom door opened and closed softly, didn’t register the light footsteps across her carpet moving toward her; not until the eyes of her boyfriend met hers in the mirror, round with concern. Seeing him so suddenly would usually have elicited a wide grin from Y/N, and she would jump into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. Yet, in the state she was in, his arrival made her feel as if she could finally let it all out. Her emotions overwhelmed her like a tidal wave, and her eyes prickled with tears.

“Theo,” she whispered, her voice cracking, and hurriedly turned around to bury her head in his neck. Almost like a reflex, Theo held her tightly to his chest as she cried, his hand rubbing up and down her trembling back. He slowly walked them backward until his legs hit the edge of her bed, and pulled her shaking body onto his lap.

“Shh, baby,” Theo hushed her sobs tenderly. “It’s okay.” Her head had made its way back to his neck, Y/N couldn’t even look up at him. He wouldn’t show it, because he had to be strong for her, but seeing his girl like this broke him to pieces inside. She was the only person who saw the good in him when everyone else tossed him aside as either a failure or a villain. Either way, he was a lost cause in the eyes of most people. Everyone really… well, everyone except her. Out of all of the people Theo had met in his life, he knew Y/N deserved to be happy more than anyone. She deserved to be cared for, celebrated, loved. As someone who dragged him out of his darkest places, Theo wanted nothing more than to help her out of hers.

Y/N sniffled, and slowly lifted her head from Theo’s shoulder, her eyes staring downward and avoiding the gaze of her boyfriend. She knew it hurt him to see her like this and she wished she could just… stop.

“Hey,” she heard him say. “Look at me Y/N.” His voice was rich with worry for the girl he loved, and she flinched at the thought of causing him grief. It was quick, but Theo saw it, and his heart snapped once again. Slowly, he raised his hand to her cheek, running his thumb along her cheekbone softly, collecting the tears that were slowly drying on her face. She subtly leaned into his touch without even realising she did it, it was like her body moved off it’s own accord, drawn to him. Gently, Theo moved his hand to Y/N’s chin and turned her head to face him.

For the first time since he’d arrived, Y/N finally let Theo see the pain in her eyes. They were glossy and slightly bloodshot, and Theo’s gaze softened at the sight of her vulnerability. “What’s wrong?” He asked a simply question, not wanting to overwhelm her.

“Everything,” she breathed. Theo’s fingers ran themselves through her hair, encouraging her to keep going. Initially she wanted to shrug him off and succumb to her feelings again, but she let him comfort her. “I’m just feeling everything all at once. Theo, I can’t-“

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay,” He held her cheeks delicately, scared to break her fragile form. “Breathe with me.”

It was something Theo had learned over the months. Sometimes Y/N really needed to calm down and just breathe slowly, in and out, exhaling the intensity of her feelings as much as her brain would allow. Though she hadn’t admitted it, Y/N realised that the method worked better when Theo led her through it.

After a minute or so of long, deep breaths, Y/N was no longer jolting with the ghosts of sobs from earlier. Theo continued to hold her close, remaining gentle but tight enough to always remind her that he was there for her. No matter what.

“This week has been so bad,” She began, and Theo stayed silent, realising that she was finally feeling comfortable enough to talk. He felt a small surge of pride flow through him at this, knowing that it was hard for her at times. “I’m stressed. I still have so much work to do, and deadlines are creeping up on me like a freakin’ predator. I’m worried for my brother, he’s struggling with his IED and he’s even been taking his meds, but they keep needing to up the dose and it kills me to see him in the state he gets. I keep screwing up too, like earlier I kept stalling the car, and I broke a photo frame yesterday morning, and I forgot to submit an assignment for grading at the beginning of the week. And I can’t sleep at night… Theo, I’m so tired.”

“Hey, come here,” Theo whispered, pulling her into another hug. “Okay, first of all, you are so smart and every time you get stressed about an assessment, you always go and smash it, don’t you?”

A smile threatened to pull at her lips at his confidence in her, and she nodded.

“Right,” Theo grinned. “Next thing, Liam is resilient, just like you. He won’t let one little setback get him down, and his meds will be sorted before you know it. Plus, he’s lucky to have you as a sister, you know that? You’re always there for him, everyone sees it.”

Y/N shifted on Theo’s lap, looking into his eyes as he spoke. “And,” He continued. “Everyone has weeks where they feel like they mess everything up, even super cool badasses like me.” Y/N giggled, spurring Theo on. “Someone as perfect as you doesn’t need to worry about a few little mistakes. They’re nothing, okay? Not important.” His hand moved soothingly up and down her arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Is that everything?”

“Um, yeah…” Y/N trailed off quietly, suddenly avoiding her boyfriend’s eyes and sinking into herself. Theo knew her so well at this point that not a single subtle movement would go unnoticed, so he raised his eyebrows at her response. He knew she was holding back, and she knew that he knew. Sighing, Y/N gave in a little. “It’s stupid.”

“What have I always told you?” He said, smiling at her. “You can tell me anything. Anything at all. I’ll be there for you no matter what. You know that, don’t you?”

Y/N nodded and breathed in, slightly shakily. “I feel ugly, Theo.”

“What?” Theo whispered in disbelief, his eyes the size of saucers. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t that. “Baby-“

“I told you it was stupid-“

“No, it’s not that, it’s just-“ Theo searched for the words in his brain. He never thought he’d have to convince the most beautiful girl in the world that that’s what she was. He thought it was just common knowledge, really. “You and ‘ugly’ would never even fit in the same category. Not even in the same universe.”

“That’s just not true though,” Y/N stated, shaking her head, her eyes tired. “I can’t even look in the mirror at the moment. I feel like when I look, I’m not looking back at me. And it makes me cry. I’d rather not see myself at all than to look at that reflection.”

If Theo’s heart wasn’t broken before, the damage was definitely done now. Hearing Y/N, his girl, say that she wasn’t pretty, but ugly, made him feel all kinds of lost and confused, but more so sad, because he wished he could take away her pain and make it all disappear. Unfortunately, his powers of pain transference only worked on physical pain, and he silently cursed that fact.

“How can you not see what I see…” He whispered, almost more to himself than to her. “You know, the first time I saw you Y/N, even from a distance I knew I’d never see anyone as beautiful as you. And now I’m looking at you, months later, and I still think you’re just as stunning. You are gorgeous. You hear me? The most gorgeous ever.” Theo placed kisses on her nose, her cheeks, her forehead as he spoke, causing Y/N’s heart to flutter. His words stirred something in her, and the intensity of his eyes boring into hers made her forget about everything she was worried about. A wave of adoration for her boyfriend washed over her, and she cupped his cheeks delicately, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

Y/N didn’t have the words at that moment, all the emotion was caught in her throat, so she did what she felt conveyed her feelings best. She leaned forward and kissed him, Theo’s lips moving against hers immediately, as if by instinct. It was so soft, so pure, light as a feather. She pulled away from him all too soon, their eyes meeting each other once again, but Theo didn’t feel like stopping. “I want to show you how beautiful you really are,” He spoke lowly, holding her hand and giving a gentle squeeze. “Please baby. Let me show you.”

He didn’t have to explicitly say what he really meant by that for both of them to know, and his request sent warm shivers through her body. She spoke only one word: “Okay.”

Theo connected their lips again, harder this time. Even with just a kiss, he wanted to pour every ounce of love he had for her in it. He would make sure that he made her feel exactly how she deserves to feel. Her hands had moved to the back of his neck, plucking at the hairs on his head, while Theo held her as close as their bodies would allow.

His fingers slid up her t-shirt slightly, brushing the skin underneath. Theo’s fingers were so cold that Y/N gasped against his lips, so her boyfriend took the chance to slip his tongue into her mouth and explore. Slowly, he lifted her shirt up further and further until they were forced to pull away so Theo could tug it over her head and toss it on her bedroom floor.

Of course, Theo wanted to marvel her brilliance as best he could, so he gripped her by the waist and moved her carefully so she was laying flat on her bed, looking up at him. “So beautiful,” he murmured, and waisted no time in resuming their kiss. His hands travelled down her sides as their lips moved in sync like a perfectly choreographed dance, and his hips ground into hers - gently still, yet hard enough to give Y/N friction where she needed it the most.

He dragged his lips to her neck, sucking and biting on the skin to create dark marks to decorate her already perfect body. Theo considered it his finishing touch to her, as he knew she needed him as much as he needed her, which was what made them so perfect. Y/N’s hands roamed his back, one leg secured over his hip to keep him close, and Theo reached around to unclip her bra. His eyes widened - he would never get used to seeing her body like this, and she wasn’t even fully exposed to him yet.

“I love these so much,” He said, lowering his head to one breast and closing his mouth over her nipple, his tongue sliding across her sensitive skin. Y/N moaned as he simultaneously kneaded her other breast with his hand. “I love this one,” He said, moving away from the one he was playing with. “And I love this one.” Theo reattached his lips to her other breast, her rapidly increasing breaths spurring him on.

Y/N’s hips involuntarily bucked up at Theo’s, and he chuckled lightly against her skin at the movement. He trailed his lips back up to her collarbone, her neck, her jaw, all while dragging her leggings and her panties down her legs as far as he could. He pulled away from Y/N’s lips to crawl down the bed until he could completely reveal her entire body. Her leggings and panties discarded on the floor, Theo looked his girl in the eyes as he placed his hands on her thighs and lightly encouraged her legs apart.

Shivering with anticipation, Y/N watched her boyfriend wide-eyed as he licked one long stripe up her centre. Her eyelids fluttered, but she couldn’t bring herself to break the intense eye contact she held with Theo, until he began to flick his tongue against her clit. Her head fell back onto her pillow, arms flying down to grab onto Theo’s hair, feeling his head moving between her legs. She moaned as he licked and sucked at her clit, doing everything in his power to make her feel good, and it was music to his ears. He soon replaced his tongue with his fingers, rubbing her clit quickly, and started licking along her core, like it was his whole life’s purpose to do so.

“Fuck, Theo,” She whimpered, and Theo groaned against her at the sound of her saying his name in such a situation. Her voice held so much vulnerability yet so much excitement, so much feeling, so much love. The vibrations against her core sent waves of pleasure racing through her, and Theo watched through his eyelashes as her back arched off the bed.

Theo removed his mouth from her core, and her head whipped up briefly at the loss of contact, her eyes wide and pleading for something, anything. Barely moment after, Theo pushed two fingers inside her, pumping them at a quick pace. Y/N moaned louder, and Theo pulled himself up so his head was level with hers, staring directly into her eyes as his fingers worked their magic. “How good does this feel Princess?”

“So good,” Y/N breathed, barely being able to find it in herself to speak. She gripped onto his biceps as he continued his work between her legs, moaning with every thrust of his fingers. “It feels amazing.”

Theo smirked slightly, content that he was getting exactly the reaction from her that he set out to get, and leaned down to capture her lips with his once again. He added another finger and picked up the pace of his actions, his mouth drowning her voice as she cried out. He kissed her hard, drawing the breath out of her almost completely, and she could taste herself on his tongue which only brought her closer to the edge.

Feeling her walls clench around his fingers, Theo moved his lips around to her ear. “Are you gonna cum?” He said, his voice rough with his own arousal. He knew the answer, but he also knew that Y/N loved to hear his voice, and it somehow turned her on even more. All she could do at this point was nod frantically, her moans and whimpers making it impossible to get the words out. Theo sped up his actions even further, trying with everything he had to send her over the edge. “Cum for me baby.”

The words uttered into her ear sent her into ecstasy, and she let go screaming Theo’s name. He watched with his mouth hung open as her body pulsed and jolted as her orgasm washed over her in waves, her cries slowing into whimpers and her contorted face relaxing into one of sheer bliss.

A few moments later when Y/N had caught her breath, she reached down and palmed Theo’s bulge through his joggers, eyes widening when she realised how hard he already was. He groaned, dropping his head to her shoulder and tensing at her touch. “N- no, baby,” He stuttered out, voice rough from the feeling. Y/N was confused as he slowly moved her hand away, tilting her head to the side in a silent question. “Tonight is about you.”

Usually she would protest and say that they both need to be pleasured equally, but she wanted him so badly that she didn’t have it in her to argue. Frantically, she yanked his head down and smashed her lips against his, tongue and teeth clashing in desperation. All she wanted was him, and she didn’t want to wait any longer.

She pulled his shirt up his body, almost ripping the fabric with her speed, and he pulled away so she could pull it over his head. She loved to admire Theo’s toned chest and stomach, so she reached her hand down to feel up his abs. She tried to look, but Theo was adamant on her being the one who was worshipped, so he dipped his head and began sucking on her neck once again, causing her head to fall back and a moan to fall from her lips.

As he painted her neck with purple bruises, Y/N reached down and played with the waistband of his joggers, fiddling with the drawstrings. Theo felt her fingers brush him and growled against her neck, hurriedly standing up to yank them and his boxers to the ground, completely exposed before her.

Y/N whimpered at the sight of him, naked and ready for her, and he crawled back over her just as quickly as he’d stood up. Theo looked at her with dark eyes, wordlessly asking for permission to treat her to just what she deserved. “Please, Theo,” She whispered, and of course, Theo didn’t want to deny her anything she wanted, especially when she asked so nicely.

The two of them moaned in harmony, jaws dropped open, as Theo pushed himself inside her, easily sliding in due to her wetness. He moved all the way in until he felt like he was inside Y/N’s stomach, pausing there as they both breathed heavily from the sensation. “Feeling better?” Theo spoke thinly, smiling at his girlfriend’s expression of pure pleasure.

“Miles better,” She replied, thrusting her hips up at Theo, making it known that she wanted more. The chimera began to move, pushing in and out of her at an ever-increasing pace, making sure she felt every single inch of him to give her the best sex possible. Y/N hands roamed his back, nails scratching at it and breaking the skin as she moaned and cursed into his ear.

“Always so tight and wet for me,” Theo groaned, his hair falling messily over his forehead as he moved. “So perfect. Every inch of you is perfect.” He sped up his movements, making sure to hit the spot that gets her screaming, and grabbed at her breast with one hand and delicately stroking her cheek with the other. “I love you.”

Theo was going so deep and fast now, Y/N was so close. Her nails dug into his back as her release approached, unable to tear her eyes away from his as they glowed yellow from the adrenaline. “I love you too,” She spoke shakily, so nearly there, when Theo kissed her hard, knowing she was reaching her orgasm from her clenching walls.

“Now,” He spoke against her lips, and as soon as the word had left his lips, Y/N screamed out Theo’s name at the most euphoric feeling she had ever experienced, shaking and quivering around him. Moments later, as she was still feeling the high, she felt Theo slow his movements as he spilled into her, his own release washing through him like a tidal wave.

After coming down from their high, Theo flopped down next to her in bed, immediately pulling her close to rest her head on his chest, which was still rising and falling. He kissed her head lightly, stroking her hair affectionately, and then pulled the covers over their bodies. He knew Y/N was exhausted, not just from their activities but from her whole week. Her breathing had slowed and he realised she had already fallen into a relaxed slumber.

Theo smiled to himself - seeing his girl finally calm with no stress lines pulling at her face made his heart soar. He hated seeing her so upset, in fact it was his least favourite thing to see in the world, so he vowed to always be the one to lift her back up again.

Theo would always be there for her: rain or shine, any day, any time. And one day it’ll be ‘til death do them part. His smile lingered on his lips as he let his own eyelids closed and he joined her in her slumber, meeting her in her dream.

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