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adelheidvonschicksal · 3 years

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Gosh, the Hawks x intern! Reader sure made me tear up :(

Like imagine him regretting not being there for her and his baby girl from the start and trying to make up for it now 😭😭💖

I was going to imagine this, but I couldn't because I ended up writing 3000 words. 😭 I just love fictional babies so much and want them to be happy, okay? I left it open-ended, so I wouldn't betray the "kick his ass" gang. I'm a weak woman 🥺 I still don't know much about him other than what Wikipedia and memes tell me but here we go!

Part One | Part Two

Hawks doesn’t think you’ll ever let him in, not that he could blame you. Every time you see him, your expression hardens, pretty eyes narrow into a glare, nostrils flare, breathing heavy. His only bright light during your last exchange is that you wait three seconds before slamming the door in his face rather than the usual zero.

Oh, he’s definitely softening you up. Not.

It’s been a month now that he’s been at this, and he is starting to wonder if this entire thing is worth the headache. All he’s accomplished so far is bothering you with his requests to talk. Then, he remembers the little angel that you have with you and thinks it’s worth the headache.

At first, he had ignored your previous exchange that day at the park and the nagging feeling in the corner of his mind upon seeing the two of you. Until that same feeling started to weigh on his heart. He quickly realizes what those feelings were. Guilt and regret at not taking another path with the high schooler he so carelessly took advantage of and impregnated.

If he had, he could be annoying Endeavor about his cute little wife right about now.

Hawks feels a bit like Icarus flying too close to the sun and now sinking in a turbulent ocean of his own making. Instead of drowning, the world decides to throw him a lifeline as the receptionist patches a call through to him.

His heart jumps when he hears you on the other side, resistant but succumbed in your plea, “I need your help.”

The very next day you arrive at the agency, a small hand latched in your own as you stand in the middle of his office. You didn’t want to be here. The thought of being in the same place where your daughter was conceived with the same man who left you makes you antsy. You can’t believe you actually let Fumikage talk you into this.

You remember that phone conversation.

Your daughter’s quirk had been coming in full force, so fast you didn’t know how to handle it. You hoped that Tokoyami would have been able to help her control it since he trained with the very person she received her quirk from much longer than you had and that he was part avian himself.

“Please, Fumi. It’s getting worse,” you begged over the phone. “She accidentally hurt a few of the kids at school. No. No. They’re fine, some cuts and a little shook up, but fine. They won’t let her back in until she gets it under control though, so please.”

“I told you there’s not much else I can do. The best solution would be to go to the person with the same quirk.”

He’s right. He’s absolutely right, but you don’t want to rely on someone like that man especially now. What if he ended up hurting her?

“I don’t want to do that.”

“I know you don’t, but he’s been trying to contact you, right? So I'm sure he'd do it if you asked.”

“Yeah…” You growled. “I swear if he makes one smart-ass remark, I might kill him in front of her.”

“Remember it’s not for you. Although, I don’t think you could kill him even if you tried.”

“If we combined our strength…”

“No,” Tokoyami immediately shot down.

You sighed. “I’m only joking. Do you have the number to the agency still?”

Now you’re here, watching the very man who abandoned you kneel down to your daughter’s eye level. Hawks couldn’t believe he’s actually seeing her. It’s a bit exciting to see how much bigger she’s gotten in such a short time with big fat wings at her back holding way more feathers than she can probably deal with.

“So, this is the special girl,” he says. She shies away from him, hiding behind your leg for protection. “Come on out, Baby Bird, you don’t have to be scared of me.”

Slowly, she peeks from behind you, fingers still clutched in your pants leg, and Hawks smiles.

“There you are. Did your mommy tell you who I am?”

“You’re her and uncle Toko’s old teacher, and you’re going to help me control my quirk.”

“That’s right. You just turned five, right? That’s when a lot of quirks can get kind of hectic.”

“Yeah. I had a birthday party with Elsa last month.”

Hawks’ smile falters for a second as he thinks he doesn’t know exactly what day her birthday is. At least now he knows the month. Quickly, he’s back to normal to keep an air of happiness in the situation. “You know I know a lady that looks a bit like Elsa. She has ice powers like her too,” Hawks says, having grown a little closer to the number one hero's family as he tried to figure out what to do about his own family situation.

When her eyes widen, Hawks knows he has her hook, line, and sinker. She throws her initial shyness to the wind in exchange for excitement. “She does? Can I meet her?”

“I’m sure we could make that happen. If not, her son has an ice quirk, too. I’m sure he’d show you.”

The young girl smiles at him, but Hawks notices her vision drifting to something else. Cautiously, her tiny hand stretches out to him, making him nervous as to what she’s doing, before chubby fingers clutch around the edge of his wing, squeezing into his feathers. “They’re pretty,” she mumbles.

“Want one?” he asks, and she nods.

“This is my birthday present for you, don’t lose it,” he says, offering her a single long feather from the back of his wings. She clutches it to her chest tightly, a happy smile plastered on her face.

Then, you interrupt.

“Baby, mama has to run some errands, but she’ll come right back to pick you up when the clock says twelve. You remember how that looks like, right?”

“It’s a 1 and a 2,” she says, bringing up her hands to show you.

Hawks decides to walk you out as your daughter sits in his office chair, twirling around his feather in her hand. He isn’t sure what to say to you now that he has you near him. Should he thank you for bringing her? Or would that only serve to piss you off since it’s not like you wanted to do this by choice?

“Hawks,” you say, bringing him out his thoughts. “There’s one more thing before I go.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t tell her,” you order. “Don’t you dare tell her.”

His chest squeezes at that but he can understand why you wouldn’t want her to know that information when the two of you aren’t even on speaking terms outside this issue. He didn’t want to do anything to make the situation worse either, so he brings his fingers to his mouth and zips his pinched thumb and index finger across his lips. “I’ll make sure mine and anyone else’s lips are sealed if they want to keep their job,” he calmly reassures you, always calm and carefree so you wouldn’t think that your rejection is successfully deterring him.

From then on, you drop your daughter off at his office twice a week to get a better handle on her powers. You didn’t stay long aside from that, but Hawks likes the small moments when all three of you are in the same room together.

The hero can be thankful that at least one of his girls likes him. His Baby Bird quickly attached herself to him, always pattering after his footsteps like a shadow, and always asking if he’d hold her hand, a smile forming whenever he engulfed her smaller one. He even keeps his promise to let her see Rei, or Elsa as Baby Bird so passionately refers to her, now that the woman is out of the hospital.

He thinks that if that family can recover from what happened then his shouldn’t be much different as long as he keeps trying to put in the effort and not step on your toes too much.

It isn’t long before Baby Bird begins to get a hang of her powers. At least enough that she wouldn’t be hurting anyone at school. Hawks had hoped you would still allow him to train her past that point though, but you quickly told him that she wouldn’t be returning to the agency when she reached that point.

He was sad to hear it of course, but he didn’t want to cause what little progress he made to be broken even if he really wanted to see her fly at least a few inches before she left. She’s been getting into the habit of jumping instead of walking to practice like he used to do. Although, she resembles more of a bouncy frog than a bird, to be honest.

He watches, amused, as she bounces along next to him in the hallway.

“You’ve gotten good at that,” he compliments, drawing her attention upwards.

“I’ve been practicing lots at home, but I’m not that good yet. Will you teach me how to fly like you do tomorrow?” she asks.

“No, Baby Bird. Didn’t your mommy tell you that we’re done with training after today?”

She hangs her head down, her bouncing stopping as she drags her feet. “…Yes,” she answers, letting his arm go lax as she releases his hand. Hawks pauses, watching as she draws her hands to her waist and anxiously bunches and twists the bottom of her shirt, and Hawks throat goes dry as she asks with glossy eyes, “Daddy, why doesn’t mommy like you?”

He’s completely silent, wondering exactly when she figured it out or if someone in the office had told her, let alone told her the fact that you didn’t like him. Well, he guesses it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. “How do you know to call me that?"

“Yesterday, my teacher told us that we inhe-inhe-inherent our quirk from our parents. I remember you said Elsa and her son had the same quirk, and you have big wings like mine and can make your feathers move.”

Hawks smiles. She’s a sharp one to piece it together in a day. “Your teacher is right. I bet you’ve never seen anyone else that looks quite like us.”

“No,” she answers, sniffling. “I don’t want to go home. I want to stay and play with you. Mommy is so mean to you. I hate her!”

Hawks cups her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Look at me. Don’t talk about your mommy like that. It’s my fault she always gets upset when I’m around. I was mean and bullied her a lot, so if you’re mad, be mad at me. I’m the reason we can’t play together more.”

She sniffs again but it isn’t enough to stop the globs of tears running down her cheeks. “When we saw you at the park, mommy started crying when we went home. I didn’t know why she did.”

Hawks knows why. The reason you’re always so angry at him is because of the hurt you still hold inside for what he did to you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have cried. The opposite of love is indifference as they say, and he knows it’s true because he had been indifferent to the pain he caused ever since the day you came to him with weepy eyes and shaking arms as you told him you were pregnant. You had been scared, and he told you to deal with it.

Hawks scowls. He’s starting to feel sick.

"If you make someone cry, you should say sorry."

Hawks smiles. “I know, baby. I'll apologize to your mama, and I’m going to try my best to make it up to her, and you, too. I’m not going to make either of you cry anymore. Then, when she forgives me, we’ll play together again.”

She looks to him, a small glimmer of hope. “You promise?”

Hawks chuckles and grins at her, the same charming expression that made you fall for him in the first place. He holds out his hand. “Even better. I pinky promise,” he says and confidently hooks her finger with his. “Repeat after me: birds of a feather stick together.”

“Birds of a feather stick together.”

“That’s my girl,” he praises before dropping her hand to pet her head. “I think we might have a little time for me to teach you something before your mommy gets here.”

At the end of the day, Hawks is already waiting for you at the front steps of the agency as your call pulls into parallel park at the sidewalk. You step out and walk towards the steps, but your daughter meets you halfway by hopping over them, her wings flapping to hover before she falls back down onto her feet.

You smile at her. You can’t believe she’s actually flying, at least a little that is, but your surprise is ruined when she cheers. “Mommy, look at what daddy taught me,” she says, bouncing to show you her new hovering skills. “Are you looking? Are you looking?”

“Yes, I’m looking. You’re so good at that. You need to show me more when we get home,” you say but to be honest it’s the last thing on your mind as you glance over to Hawks. “Baby, why don’t you go sit in the car, and I’ll be right there.”

Hawks watches as she obediently follows your instructions, turning her back and happily hopping towards the vehicle.

“(Name), I-” Hawks says, unsure what to expect when your angry glare turns back on him. It isn’t until his yellow visors are already clicking against the pavement that he realizes you hit him. He hisses at the sting on his cheek. “That actually kind of hurt. I guess I had it coming, but I’m not really sure what I did at least recently,” he tries to play off, but you aren’t having it.

“You told her, you told her,” you keep repeating, and he’s backing away in case you decide to strike him again. “Are you trying to get her on your side?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking, and I didn’t tell her,” Hawks explains. “She pieced it together on her own. She’s sharper than you think, she can see that we look alike when she looks in a mirror, and she knows how quirks work. That’s more than enough for her to tell.”

His explanation is enough for you to halt in your assault, and you angrily huff under your breath. You don’t shift to leave, and there’s no door for you to slam away. He finally has you available. “So, what do you want to do now?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she knows; and honestly, I’m glad she does,” he confesses. “I wouldn’t mind seeing her again if you’d let me.”

Hawks swallows his anxiety as he waits for you to answer. Your eyes shift from him back to where she sits in your car, fiddling with the toys obviously left to clutter in the back before you look back at him, thinking.

“She does seem to like you…for some reason,” you add distastefully, but you know full well how happy training makes her. How her little smile beamed when she fluttered over those steps. How the word daddy came from her so sweetly. “She always likes talking about you after she spends the day here. You make her happy. But that’ll just make it harder for her when you leave ag-“

“I won’t,” he cuts off.

“How do I know that?”

“You don’t but I promise not again. (Name), I’m sorry. I’m sorry for telling you to go away like a burden and for not being there. You must’ve been scared, but I won’t leave either of you alone from now on even if you don’t want me there. I’ll be there if you need me.”

“Drop it. I’m not a part of this,” you tell him.

He knows that you’re rejecting his apology, but his ears can pick up what others can’t. He can hear those soft inflections in your voice right before you harden it into aggression, the slight stutter that you so cleverly thought you hid from him as you nearly fumbled your words, a little glimpse of a teenage girl with a crush on her sensei. “Not yet but do know I plan on trying until I make you fall for me all over again. I miss your cute little face when I'd smile at you.”

You glare. “Say that again, and I will smack you in your "cute little" face.”

"You already did that, but if it makes you feel better go ahead, I can take it if it helps you forgive me.”

He just didn’t expect you to actually take him up on the offer. This time, it’s the other cheek that burns.

“You’re right. That did make me feel better,” you say, smirking as you shake the sting from your hand. Hawks grunts, rubbing his jaw as you begin to walk towards your car. He bends down to pick up his shades before following close behind. You open the driver’s door, and say, “I expect you to pick her up at 9 tomorrow. If you’re late, don’t bother showing up ever again.”

Hawks smirks. You certainly became aggressive these past few years, but he thinks he kind of likes it. As you get in your car, he notices Baby Bird smiling at him from the window, her hand up and clutched around that birthday feather he gifted to her as she waves him off.

He’ll definitely be there on time.

#hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x y/n #bnha hawks

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luminnara · 3 years

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God Damn, Shit Sucking Vampires | Poly lost boys x oc CH 9

(oops no gif because the ones i want won’t upload right now)

Just as a reminder, lost boys requests are OPEN!

Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Tags: @americancowgirl19 @ilikechocolatemilkh

Warnings: Blood, gore, vampire things

Hearing a strange voice in her head nearly drove Vera into a panic. When she realized she was hearing Max, she nearly flew into a second panic, the sire’s strong, firm voice only reassuring her that all of her fears were correct and he wasn’t going to like her very much.

As she walked along the beach, bare toes sinking into the sand, Dwayne at her side, Vera briefly wondered how hard it would be to kill Max if it came down to a struggle. Did she have a chance against him? Maybe, if she stooped low enough to cry for her own sire, he would come and take care of it—

“Hey, chill out,” Dwayne said, stopping and turning towards her slightly. “What’s wrong?”

She realized she had halted and was simply standing there, staring at nothing as her mind raced. He could probably feel how freaked out she was getting, and as she looked at him, she found a gentle, understanding expression on his face.

“C’mere,” he said, his voice low and rumbly and comforting.

He opened his arms in invitation and she dove right in, moving quickly and desperately enough that she knocked him right onto his ass. He landed in the sand with a laugh, situating the two of them so that she could sit in his lap and they could face the dark, never ending ocean.

“Did Max freak you out?” Dwayne asked as Vera tucked her head under his chin.

“...a little.”

“Why?”

She sighed. Something about Dwayne made her feel so safe that she was actually considering talking with him about things she hadn’t even told David yet. “Because I’m not used to this. I’m used to vampires who want me out of their territory the second I even get close, and I can’t really blame them.”

“This is your territory, too.” He said. “You’re the one who’ll be kicking people out of it now.”

“I don’t think Max is going to like me.” She grumbled.

“Why not?”

She was quiet for a moment, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “Because he’ll see me as a threat.”

“Max isn’t like that.”

“You’re just saying that now because he’s your sire.”

“No, I’m saying it because I mean it.” Dwayne rested his cheek on the top of her head, his hand absentmindedly rubbing circles on her back. “Max wants a family. Now you’re part of that family.”

He sounded so sure of his own words that Vera was actually feeling inclined to believe him for a moment. “Parents don’t tend to like me.”

“Anyone who can handle having Paul in their pack can handle you.”

She scoffed. “He isn’t that bad.”

“Maybe to you.” Dwayne chuckled. He tightened his arms around her when he realized that his jokes weren’t very reassuring. “Max is a good man. A good sire.”

“Why?” Vera asked. “What does he do that makes you like him so much?”

“Well,” Dwayne situated them a bit better, getting more comfortable. “He’s fair. He acts stern, but...he sees himself as our father.”

“Don’t they always?” Vera grumbled.

“He calls David his prodigal son, but he always wanted a whole family. He ended up with the four of us.”

“So, what? He plucked you all up out of the gutter and that makes him a good guy?”

“Why are you so determined to hate him?”

“I’m not!” she protested. “I’m just...wary.”

“Max gave us new lives.” Dwayne sighed. “He found us back in San Francisco after we got ourselves in some trouble with another vampire.”

Vera had to snort in amusement at that. “Seriously? Who’d you pick a fight with? Dracula?”

“Well…”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He flashed her a smile. “How were we supposed to know who he was?”

“Humans really have no self preservation instincts, do they?”

“Apparently not.” Dwayne chuckled, squeezing her.

“How long ago was it?”

“1906, same year as that big earthquake. Tore the whole city apart...it was the perfect time for four vampires to start learning how to survive, with all that chaos. People were dead, more were missing...nobody noticed a few more disappearing here and there.”

“Is that why Max and, uh...Vlad were there?” Vera asked.

“I imagine.” Dwayne shrugged. “We resisted at first. David was especially pissed off.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Vera laughed quietly.

“But...we took to the lifestyle pretty quickly.”

“And that’s that?” Vera asked.

“That’s that.” he shrugged. “Max wants to be a father figure. He turned David because he wanted a son, and he taught him everything he knew. Then, he decided David needed companions, and he happened to find me not long after. Then the others. Max isn’t a bad guy, Vera. You’ll see.”

“That’s what everybody says about their own sire.” she said, looking out at the black waves as they crashed against the sand just a few feet in front of her. “Everyone wants to talk their sires up, because without them, we’re nothing. Just because your own sire is nice to you doesn’t mean he’ll be nice to me.”

“What’s so bad about your own that you think ours is so awful?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, Vera’s mouth pressing into a thin line. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Dwayne opened his eyes, rubbing his cheek over the top of her head affectionately.

“I’m not.”

“I know that you are, though.”

Vera let out a frustrated noise, then heaved a sigh. Maybe talking about this could be good for her. Maybe verbalizing thoughts and fears that she’d been living with for centuries could finally help her get over them...and if anyone was a good listener, it would be Dwayne.

“Okay, fine.” she said. “What’s so bad about my sire? Everything. Everything is what’s bad about him, literally.”

“Where’s he from?” Dwayne asked.

“The old country. Like...the old old country.”

“Why are you so reluctant to talk about him?” Dwayne’s voice was low and gentle, barely audible over the sound of the waves.

“Because he’s got a reputation.” she fiddled with the hem of her shorts. “Most older vampires know of him. You guys might not, and if we had a different situation, I’d say it should stay that way.”

“That serious, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Hmm.” Dwayne’s chest rumbled. “The others should hear about this, too.”

“Yeah, they should.” she sighed again, her voice small. She felt small in general, all curled up in Dwayne’s lap like that. Small and helpless. She wasn’t, though, and she didn’t want them to think that she was. So she cleared her throat, trying to muster as much confidence as she could, ignoring the mild twisting in her gut. “I’ll tell you guys everything tomorrow night.”

Dwayne made a small, impatient sound.

“Max will want to hear, too.”

“That’s a good point,” he admitted. “You know, I still need to hunt for you…”

Vera perked up slightly. The thought of food made the tight feeling in her chest loosen up slightly, and she looked at Dwayne eagerly. “Yes, please.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her as he stood and set her back on her feet. “Then let’s go find some snacks, Princess.”

-0-

“You know, we don’t have to do this. We could just go back to the cave--”

“What happened to that tough attitude you had a few days ago?” David raised an eyebrow, looking amused as he pulled Vera off the back of his bike.

“I’m still tough,” she growled, knowing that he could very easily feel how nervous she was.

“Come on, babe,” Paul parked his bike next to David’s and bounded over to her. “You’ll be fine.”

“We’d never let anything happen to ya,” Marko said, following Paul.

Vera knew he was telling the truth, but it didn’t make her feel any better. She had barely slept the entire day, waking up restless and on edge as soon as the sun disappeared, and it had taken a good deal of coaxing from David to even get her to leave the roost. They took Star and Laddie to the boardwalk, dropped them off with some cash, and then headed off to Max’s house.

David told Vera along the way that Star and Laddie weren’t allowed to know where Max lived. They really weren’t allowed to know anything about him in general, in order to protect him, so when the pack walked up to the front gate of their sire’s home, it was only the four boys who accompanied Vera. She didn’t mind; having Star around would have only put her more on edge, probably, and she had been glad to leave the halfling behind.

As she faced the gated bridge that led to Max’s completely normal-looking, Californian home, Vera did everything she could to act confident. She squared her shoulders, held her chin up, and pretended that she had nothing to worry about...but the boys could see right through the facade, and as they joined her, they all fell into a little formation. In moments, Vera was surrounded by them, David offering his arm while the others stepped into their spots behind. It made her feel better, knowing that they were all there to protect her...but at the same time, she still wished they were all out wandering the boardwalk.

“So brave,” David sneered as she took his arm.

“Shut up.” she growled, vaguely aware of Dwayne’s hand on her lower back.

“Relax,” Marko purred.

“Don’t you dare tell me to relax, Marko, I swear—“

The barking of a rapidly approaching dog interrupted her, the sound of paws thumping rhythmically against the wooden walkway drawing her attention away from the boys. A big white hellhound was barreling towards the gate, all teeth and rage, and although it looked like it wanted to tear her limbs off, the sight of such a beast made Vera temporarily forget why she was so anxious. Even as it barked and snarled and threw itself against the gate, she thought that it was absolutely adorable.

“Oh, look at you!” She squealed as the boys all jumped back. When she took a step forward, David tried to yank her towards him, but she slipped away easily, too focused on this hellhound to care.

“You’re such a big handsome boy,” she said, in a voice that made Paul jealous.

“No fair,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “Why’s the dumb dog get all that?”

Marko glanced at the taller blond nervously. “Don’t call him dumb, you remember what happened last time?”

Paul groaned, rolling his eyes at the memory of nearly losing a hand.

The dog stopped barking as Vera approached, falling silent as it sniffed the air around her. The vicious look on its face was gone, replaced by curiosity, and when Vera ignored David’s irritated warnings and reached over the gate to pet it, the animal whined.

“You must be Thorn,” Vera cooed, scratching behind its ears. “What a big, brave, hell-y hellhound you are, yes you are!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Paul said as he watched.

“What?” Vera asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

“Thorn doesn’t like any of us.” Marko huffed. “Why’s he like you so much?”

“Well...he can probably smell my sire on me,” Vera said. “Might remind him of home. Hellhounds usually like me because of that.”

“...Home?” Paul asked.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“But I wanna know now!” he whined.

Thorn growled at him.

“Thorn!” a male voice called from the other end of the little bridge.

Vera immediately stiffened. The front door of the house had opened, and in it stood a man, wearing a very stylish suit and horn rimmed glasses. Thorn heeded his master’s call, giving Paul one last woof before trotting back towards Max. His departure freed the front gate, and David brushed past Vera to open it, taking her hand and leading the gang across the walkway.

“Boys,” Max greeted as they approached him. He offered David a stern smile, one which David didn’t return, and when Max’s eyes fell upon Vera all tucked up against his side, his eyes narrowed slightly. “And you must be Vera.”

She didn’t like that he knew her name. It was inevitable that he’d find out what it was, but still...she kept clinging to the hope that maybe, he wouldn’t learn too much about her. The boys seemed so convinced that Max was just an annoying father, but as Vera took him in, she could see that behind the trendy, 80s-dad facade, there was an old, powerful vampire, and those were the kind she didn’t get along with very well.

“Well, come in, everyone, before dinner gets cold. I made sure to get all your favorites, boys.” Max stepped to the side, inviting them over the threshold in a very courteous way, one that suggested he had nothing to fear from the boys or Vera.

“You shouldn’t have,” David sneered sarcastically as he walked in.

“Would it kill you to be nice?” Vera hissed.

He rolled his eyes.

Max noticed the exchange with a bemused expression on his face. “Go on in and sit down. The table’s already set.”

The house was nice. It wasn’t incredibly extravagant, by any means, but it was perfectly well decorated, modern art that Vera didn’t quite know how to appreciate hanging on the walls. Everything was clean and organized, not a speck of dust in sight, as opposed to the state of decay the boys kept their lair in. Max seemed to enjoy playing the role of a video store owner, and his home reflected that; if anyone came to visit, they wouldn’t see a single item out of place, nor would they have any reason to be suspicious of him. There were no torture devices, no loose vials of blood sitting around, no skulls or human skin nailed up. It looked so...normal.

Vera almost stopped to wonder why exactly she was so nervous...and then she heard the whimpering.

“Geez, Max,” Paul remarked as they rounded the corner and entered the dining room, “you really shouldn’t have.”

“Well, fresh caught is always the best,” Max said. “Don’t you agree?”

“Hell yeah,” Marko growled, lips pulled back in a grin.

The dining room table was covered in an array of meats, from a suckling pig in the center to a rack of ribs at the end. Six chairs surrounded the feast, plates and cutlery set out at each spot, with big glass goblets already half full of blood ready and waiting. Next to each chair stood a human, frozen due to both fear and Max’s vampire magic, a couple of them shaking and considerably more conscious than the others.

Max walked to his place at the head of the table, Thorn at his side as he took his seat. David sat at the far end, facing him, his eyes dark and hungry as he held himself back. Dwayne sat at David’s left side, Vera at his right, while Paul and Marko took the remaining two chairs and tried not to completely lose their minds. They were shaking almost as much as the humans were, Paul looking at his blood donor eagerly while Marko held a little sneer on his face that suggested he was about ten seconds from ripping his apart.

“Dig in, everyone,” Max said, taking his cloth napkin and tucking it into his shirt collar. “But please try not to make a mess. There’s more than enough here for each of you.”

David immediately grabbed the arm of his meal, sinking his fangs in and taking a drink while Max preferred to drain his into the goblet he had set out for himself. Vera could only watch, stunned, as the carnage began, and before long, she was joining in. The human Max had caught for her was a middle aged clergyman, and she had to tear through his holy sleeve to get to his flesh.

She didn’t mind, though; she very rarely ever got to eat members of the clergy. They were generally too much work to hunt down, and since she had an aversion to churches, well...like most vampires, she tended to leave them alone. It was hard to nab them without making a spectacle and letting the entire town know that something was amiss. So, all things considered, a little bit of extra work involving a mouthful of fabric was worth it. This was like a special treat for her, and she couldn’t help but drain him all in one go, still holding on even after he had collapsed in a bloodless heap on the floor.

When she looked up, she realized that Max was watching her.

“So,” he said, speaking over the hellish sounds of the others slurping up their meals, “I believe some congratulations are in order. Welcome to the family, Vera.”

She swallowed her last mouthful of blood and looked at him. “Uh...thanks. I-I mean, thank you.”

Max picked up his silverware, cutting a slice of ham for himself. “Where are you from, Vera?”

“I wander,” she said, following suit and stabbing her fork into a raw steak.

“I’ve surmised that much,” Max chuckled good-naturedly. “I meant where are you from originally.”

“...oh.” She cleared her throat somewhat awkwardly. “Italy.”

“Italy!” Max exclaimed. “Such a lovely region. I haven’t visited The Mediterranean since I left the old country myself. If I didn’t have the shop here, perhaps I’d take a trip...have you been back recently?”

“No,” she crossed and uncrossed her legs, trying to act like she wasn’t fidgeting. She took a bite of her steak, focusing on the blood as it trickled down her throat.

Max reached for his goblet, raising the blood to his lips and taking a drink. “And your sire, is he still in Europe?”

Vera almost choked on her food.

By this point, the boys were all watching. Paul was licking blood off his lips while Marko still had his dinner’s forearm in his mouth, but David and Dwayne were both focused solely on the conversation at hand, their eyes narrowed slightly as they listened.

When she realized that everyone was waiting, Vera coughed into her fist, clearing her throat. “Y-yes, he is.”

Max’s eyes darkened, despite the smile on his face. “You know you need to tell me about him, Vera.”

“There’s not much to tell,” she lied, turning back to her steak. “Just an ancient vampire, out there in the old country. Not very exciting.”

“Exciting or not, I’d still prefer to know who he is.” Max said.

She shrugged, reaching for her glass to take a nervous drink. “I doubt you’d know him.”

“When you drink that blood, you’ll be joining our family.”

She froze, hand on the stem of the glass.

“I’m sure your sire will be able to feel it. I’d hate to be rude and not even know his name in the event he visits one day.”

Vera stared at the blood—Max’s blood—as her fingers tightened around the stem. “You don’t want him to visit.”

“Oh?” Max asked, appearing as relaxed as ever. “Why not?”

“Because of who he is.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “And what he can do.”

Dwayne and David glanced at each other.

When Max spoke again, his voice was softer, gentler than before. “What is your sire’s name, Vera?”

With a great deal of effort, she opened her eyes again, still staring into the blood rather than at any of them.

“Asmodeus.” She said. “My sire is Asmodeus.”

#GODDAMN SHIT SUCKING VAMPIRES #the lost boys #poly lost boys #dwayne lost boys #paul lost boys #david lost boys #marko lost boys #the lost boys x oc #the lost boys x reader #david x oc #dwayne x oc #paul x oc #marko x oc #david x reader #dwayne x reader #paul x reader #marko x reader

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zet-sway · 3 years

Text

Spiritual Shrios Summer - EMBRACE

This is a prompt fill for @rosenkow’s Spiritual Shrios Summer!

PROMPT WORD: EMBRACE - | - WORDS: ~6100

Rated: “E” for “Awkward but Spicy” [NSFT] AO3 Link: "Too Much and Not Enough” Pairing: Thane / FemShep Summary: Maybe it's the traces of venom in her system or maybe it's just him, but this man beneath her - this assassin, feared and infamous for the lives he's taken - swells her heart with trust. It's a new and curious thing, so different from the trust shared between brothers in arms. It's simple intimacy, and maybe… just maybe… something more.

A/N: This fic is a god damn hot mess, and yet I have literally *never* revised anything so heavily in my entire life. Was supposed to be part of a slow burn but I'm impatient. I literally can't tell if this fic is worth reading. You decide lol

Thank you @quietonewisp for your feedback on my first draft! It's unbelievable to be in the same fandom with such talented writers after all these years. Thank you also to everyone who shared encouraging words while I was pulling my hair out over this fic :) this is my first attempt at writing Shepard as a thought out character of my own creation. As a result it's pretty awkward.

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"I don't know how you do this," Shepard grunts through clenched teeth.

Every third day is yoga. And today, she thought it would be a good idea to try a headstand.

Thane guides her feet into the air, resting her knees against her elbows. Her hands are planted on either side of her head, elbows bent at a right angle to form three points of support against the floor. Truthfully, he hadn't thought she would struggle so much with this pose, given her strength.

"Push with your hands. Distribute your weight."

Slowly, he releases her calves and repositions himself behind her as she pulls in a sharp inhale, holding her balance.

"You better not be staring at my ass, Krios."

He raises a brow ridge. It's hard not to stare at her ass, thrust in the air as it is.

"You forget that I have perfect recall," he says dismissively. "I can reflect on the image of your backside at any moment of my choosing."

"So you admit you've been looking?"

"Shepard," he admonishes, "Just because I've seen your ass does not mean I consciously seek to see it." It's a stone cold lie, but an easy one to sell, especially when she makes a point of training her glutes every day during their morning PT.

Slowly, she lifts her knees into the air, shaking with the effort to retain her balance. "I bet you're an ass man," she grits out, one leg finally pointed straight into the air.

Thane sets his hands on her calves to steady her as she wills through the pose.

"I'm unfamiliar with the term."

She huffs, swallowing down a breath before speaking. "A man who prefers ass over breasts."

Only humans would have a word for something like this, he thinks. "As you know, women of my species do not have breasts."

"Yup," she hisses, slowly and carefully straightening her other leg. "That's why you've gotta be-" another shaky breath, "-an ass man."

Well… she's not wrong.

In truth, he finds breasts no more desirable than any other mundane part of the human body. The appeal, he suspects, comes from actually touching them - something he hadn't considered at all until she'd launched herself at him in the airlock weeks ago. He's replayed the experience in his mind hundreds of times by now. The insistent press of her mouth on his, her smooth human hands clutching at his shoulders... and the soft crush of her body against him. He hadn't pulled away, but he hadn't kissed her back either. Right now, he wishes he had.

There's a curious connecting thread between his return to the Normandy and her sudden urgency to speak to him - frequently. Even more curious - neither one of them has broached the subject of her impulsive kiss before his procedure.

With a relieved sigh, Shepard finally manages to straighten both legs and complete the pose. Toes pointed toward the ceiling of the shuttle bay, she trembles. It's all he can do to not close his hands around her thighs to feel every rippling muscle under her skin.

"Excellent work," he says, voice perhaps lower than he intended.

"My head hurts."

Thane shakes his head. "You're not distributing your weight through your hands. Push down, and lower your knees slowly."

She makes a strained sound, tenses her legs, and the motion is just enough to pitch her center of gravity backwards.

He catches her, but not before the rounded curve of her ass is pressed with distracting persistence against his hips. If he could have blushed, he very well might have. Looking remarkably contorted beneath her splayed hands, she grins at him.

"How's your perfect recall going to handle this one?"

He should say something, but he doesn't. With steady arms, he lowers her to the mat and she flops against it, sighing heavily. There's a familiar quiet about her, something he's come to recognize as the silence before a storm.

"...can we talk about this?"

His deflection comes instinctively. "Your mastery of the headstand will take some practice, but-"

"No," she says firmly. "This." She waves a hand between both of them. "I kissed you goodbye and we're both acting like it never happened. It was inappropriate of me. Did I upset you?"

This time he needs a minute to think.

"Shepard, I… no, you did not upset me."

"But...?" She sits up, knees drawn in a loose spread against her chest, arms looped around them. The same focus he'd seen in her face on Tuchanka is there now. But this time her expression is uncharacteristically open, visibly hanging on his next words.

She's not even trying to hide that she wants him.

So why does he resist?

Ten years ago he swore he would never love another, and he meant it. The compulsion to remain ascetic is by now second nature in him. But although the years have not dulled the memory of his beloved Irikah, they have brought a new perspective: the fires of one love are not dulled simply because the fires of another are kindled.

"I've recalled that moment more times than I can count," he says, finally.

"So... does that mean you liked it?"

"I enjoyed your kiss enough to admit that should the opportunity arise... I may not let go."

She leans closer, fingers lacing together with visible anticipation. "And what if I didn't want you to let go?"

The look in her upturned face is what does him in. In a rare display of impulse, he drops to the mat and kisses her. And this time he intends to savor it.

Somehow, the same humility that drove him to his knees before Irikah now folds him again as he gazes into the unknown with Shepard. A purpose, a reason to fight. And now perhaps... a reason to love. He's not sure if he would call it love just yet, but kissing her awakens his body like hot tea on a bitter cold morning. She draws him between her knees, lips parting eagerly beneath his seeking tongue. She tastes like coffee with an undertone of alien unfamiliarity, and his pulse quickens. He's already eager for more.

Shepard mumbles something against his mouth and he pulls away.

"You taste tingly. That's normal right?"

He smiles gently back at her. "Normal for humans, as I understand."

They lean together for another kiss before she releases him. "We still haven't done cardio."

He slips his arms around her waist and tugs her tighter against him, using his strength to pull her up with him as he stands.

"A quick jog around the hold, then?"

"...or," she says coyly, all suggestive eyes with a cautious smirk blooming across her face. "A quick jog upstairs?"

He shouldn't. At least - old habits tell him he shouldn't. But his heart says it doesn't much matter.

"Promise me one thing," he says with caution, taking her hands in his. This is not how he’d imagined his morning. After all the time they’ve spent seeking each other’s company, he hadn’t dared to think...

Shepard tips her head, listening, fingertips idly exploring the subtle texture of his scales. His throat feels dry and the words are stampeding through his mind so fast he can barely catch them.

"Embrace her memory as I have. Smile upon her with favor." The memories mingle together, threatening to overwhelm him. Shepard has already given him so much, and he still asks more of her.

"Your wife?" She leans into his neck, kissing his shoulder softly.

"Yes." He squeezes his eyes shut. His breath threatens to choke him. "I cannot and will not stop loving her. She is with me always."

Shepard smiles at him, as though he's asked the easiest thing in the world. Her next words are an intimate whisper against his lips.

"What kind of Commander would I be if I told you to stop loving your wife?"

Her breath fills his chest with warmth and wanting. Cupping her face in his hands, he kisses her glistening lips as though they were crafted specifically for him. They inhale each other, her tongue sliding against his as he breathes in her kiss. The word murmurs through his mouth and mind as a soft wind sighing through trees and grasses. "Siha."

This could be his second chance. An opportunity to fight side by side with a warrior angel, as he should have done years ago. Irikah was not a trained soldier, but she damn well could have been. She would have given everything to defend the innocent, and by all accounts, she had. Their son, alive because of her and her alone. He can taste her in the kiss, a familiar and soothing encouragement that makes his heart soar. Perhaps if he survives the mission, he will have learned something of her bravery.

There's a gentle tug on his shirt. Shepard leads him toward the elevator.

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

When they stumble into her cabin, her eyes are already bleary with his venom. Thane presses her into the bed, one hand cradling her neck while the other winds into her hair. His lips are slow but strong, kissing her like he knows nothing else. She's never felt so wanted before.

"How far do you want to take this?" she gasps when he trails her mouth down her jaw.

"This was your idea," his mouth is scorching on the column of her neck. She leans back to give him better access. "How far do you want to take this?"

Her insides are on fire at the feel of his mouth alone, and logic says she's crazy to jump into bed with another fucking species so suddenly. But she doesn't care - she's spent enough sleepless nights imagining this very moment. She wants his hands on her bare skin, she wants the forbidden unknowns of his alien body. With every fiber of her being, she wants. But it's easier to think about it than to say it.

"More," she says finally - breathlessly. Words are fleeting. Her hands fist the edges of his shirt and he obliges, pulling away so she can lift it off before she begins pulling off her own.

And then he surprises her by playfully rolling her on to her belly, kissing the back of her neck, her spine, palms trailing an electric line down her sides.

"I confess," he murmurs between kisses, "You were right to accuse me of being, as you say, an 'ass man.'" She moans as those strong hands settle on her backside, fingers kneading her flesh with delicious strength. Good god.

Words are difficult, but she manages. "Don't get any ideas, I'm not letting you fuck my ass."

"It wasn't my intention. Is that something humans do?"

Shepard snorts. "Don't act like you didn't know that."

He laughs like she's never heard before, a rich and jubilant peal in that dark voice she's come to savor. She can nearly feel the soft vibrations of that laugh through his hands as he presses his fingertips between her legs. “I’d rather know where you burn hottest,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice as he strokes her just hard enough to make his intentions understood.

"Oh fuck yes."

His palms return to her backside, sliding up to hook his fingers into her waistband. "May I?"

She nods furiously, her own hands closing over his to push her clothes off.

When she's firmly on her back again he drags down the zipper on the front of her bra. It's flung on the floor with the rest of her things and then she's bare before him, biting her lip under the heat of his hungry gaze. She wonders if he can see her body vibrating in anticipation.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, settling his knees between her thighs. He crawls up to kiss her. "For weeks, I've thought about touching you."

She hums as he strokes the rounded edges of her breasts.

"Your body is so wonderfully soft, will you tell me if there's something you don't like?"

"Yeah," is all she can manage before his mouth returns to her neck, his hands wandering like a dying man searching for water. She's certain to have hickeys by the time they're done.

Curious, she brings a hand up to stroke the delicate flesh of his throat. His answering groan confirms her suspicions, and suddenly his questing hands are not so chaste, closing with suffocating warmth around her breasts.

Shepard bites her lip. "Please don't tell me you think breasts are gross."

He shakes his head. "I'll admit I find it strange that human breasts are erogenous, given their purpose. But they aren’t ‘gross,’ as you say. Just... new." She pushes her chest into his palms and that gets a rise out of him - a lovely trembling purr in his throat. "And so soft, Siha."

"Feels good," she murmurs. With parted lips, she breathes her pleasure as he kneads her breasts in slow, sensuous circles, dipping his head to kiss along her sternum and at the tender underside of her flesh.

"I think I might like them,” he says, lips twinged upwards.

Her need flares with that simple statement and she pulls in a breath, straining against him.

"I hadn't imagined how... tempting they could be. Soft curves... ripe like fruit at peak season." A strained moan falls from her mouth when he punctuates his statement with a more appreciative squeeze and draws a thumb over one sensitive peak, his mouth close enough to make her whimper in frustration.

“You’re teasing me.”

"I’m exploring you, Siha. There’s so much to learn." He circles his fingertips around her nipples and they tighten in response. The visual alone has her reeling, electric sparks of need slipping down her spine and straight into her core. "Your body shows me what it wants," he murmurs. "My mouth begs to taste you."

He flicks his tongue out, sampling her in light, infuriating strokes, teasing until she's keening beneath his hands, eyes shut tight and panting over clenched teeth. It's hard to think about anything at all except his hands and lips and that rumbling voice shimmering across her sensitized skin.

She strangles out a moan when his lips close around her nipple and he hollows his cheeks, drawing it into his mouth before releasing it with a soft, wet pop. Her arms clamp reflexively around his neck in an unspoken order to keep still.

"Do that again," she gasps.

He complies without question, textured fingers on one breast and wet tongue on the other, toying with her. Her back arches, hands holding herself like an offering to his mouth, every touch like a phantom crack of lust between her legs. There's a low rumble in his throat, he's practically purring into her skin and she can feel it, thighs clenching together in desperation.

She whines when he finally pulls away.

"I'll be back for those," he promises. "I hadn't expected such enthusiasm."

Fingertips brush her inner thigh and she leans into the touch, wanting more - for fuck's sakes - more - gasping out a shuddering breath she didn't even know she was holding when he flattens his fused fingers into her seam. Face buried in her neck doing god knows what with his lips and tongue, he's exploring her by touch alone. Each press of his hand is excruciatingly gentle, pushing slowly into her slick channel, gliding upwards to her clit. She's so sensitive that she flinches when he brushes over it, clutching at his shoulders.

"Too much?" He asks.

She hadn't even realized her eyes were closed. Her throat is dry, but she rasps, "Not enough."

His full lips curve into a smile before he strokes her again and this time she moans, pushing back on his hand as much as she can manage. Her mind is chanting "please, please," but she won't beg. Not yet, at least.

His voice rouses her from her desperate thoughts.

”Your species makes great effort to avoid using definitive terms for this part of your body."

"Do we?” She asks, willing her thoughts to clear enough for her to speak. “I mean, there's pussy, snatch... cunt, if you're feeling profane."

His voice drops a register lower, and he leans close enough for her to feel his hot breath when he speaks. "Shepard, I believe the technical term is vulva."

She groans. Loudly. "Fuck off."

He huffs out a stiff laugh. "Perhaps you'd prefer something new. Ara'te. Chalice of Arashu."

She tries - and fails - to hide her impatience. "Really?"

"Do you find it repulsive?"

"No, I just... mixing religion and sex is kind of..." She fumbles with her answer, not wanting to offend, but the words are gone from her when he leans in and draws the flat of his tongue in a wide sweep between her legs. "-Jesus, Thane."

His voice is thick with amusement. "How interesting that you invoke the name of a god you don't believe in, if I touch you just so."

Shepard's mouth snaps shut and she looks pointedly away from him with a huff.

"But I digress," he says, fingers rippling along her seam. Scaled hands smooth over her slickness, spreading her with gentle consideration. His mouth is dangerously close, gaze fixed on her with eyes like gleaming onyx. Something in the way his voice drops sets her heart racing.

“You feel like the softest silk,” he whispers, each word rolling off his tongue in a veil of hot breath that cools over the heat of her wet center. Her eyes flutter closed as he presses his exploration, teasing her entrance with his joined fingers.

"Your body is a wellspring," he murmurs, slowly penetrating her with his hand. "Drenched with arousal… begging me into your depths."

She gasps when he takes the opportunity to flick at her with his tongue. Hips grind against his hand, desperately seeking more.

"What the fuck," she moans. "Don't stop."

He withdraws only to enter her again, this time sheathing an extra finger in her heat. Those fingers crook inside her and she damn near twitches off the bed, drawing a sound from him somewhere between amusement and arousal.

"So sensitive, Siha."

It feels like she's melting under the intensity of his touch, a thumb moving in teasing circles around her clit. She hisses, thighs clenching.

"Holy shit just touch me."

"Like this?" he asks in a tone that's infuriatingly playful, barely skimming his tongue across her clit.

"God damn it, Thane, you know what I want-"

He interrupts her, his voice suddenly more serious.

"Show me."

There's silence, and then Shepard blinks at him. "What?"

"Show me how you like to be touched."

"You want to watch me?" her mouth goes dry and her answering tone is more accusatory than she intends. "Because you're a freak, or because you don't know how to touch a woman?"

"Yes." He says simply, dodging both of her questions with irritating smugness.

Her knees twitch inward, uncertain, and with a deep inhale, he withdraws.

"Siha," he murmurs apologetically, taking her hand. "You've left all your confidence on the battlefield.”

The words slip straight through the cracks in her armor. It's painful, but he's right. Cerberus didn't bring her back because they wanted her, they brought back Commander Shepard. The woman she used to be is an afterthought. There's only the mission. The Hero of the Citadel. The Commander.

But here they are, Thane's enormous black eyes boring holes into her defenses in a silent plea for… something. His hand finds hers and their fingers intertwine, resting together on her hip. His expression is more unguarded than she's ever seen, eyes asking a silent question: Do you trust me? Do you want me?

"All my victories have been on the battlefield," she says, looking away.

His thumb soothes back and forth over her hand.

"Intimacy is not a war. What do you hope to triumph over?"

Still unwilling to meet his eyes, her face twists with discomfort.

"I haven't had a lot of partners. I'm laying here naked and you're playing games. I can't tell if you're just teasing or looking for an excuse to drive me off."

His expression softens. "Our differences are not merely physical, then."

She isn’t certain what he means, but Thane shifts to lay next to her, kissing her temple. His fingers tighten around hers in a gentle grip that doesn't let up, finally summoning her eyes back to his.

"On my heart, Siha, there is no place I would rather be than right here with you." There's a genuine apology in his tone, prying her heart open one painstaking centimeter at a time. "Do you want this?"

Her voice is small, but she doesn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Show me what you like," Thane's lips brush against her ear. "Remember that I won't forget." The way his voice rumbles makes her shiver.

He takes her hand and presses a kiss into her palm before setting it atop her thigh. It’s a relaxing gesture, indirect enough that he's not backing down while also letting her choose the next move. His lips are unhurried, traveling up her neck, against her ear, along her hairline.

Years of lackluster partners have tempered her expectations - she’s never shared herself with anyone as intense as Thane; and although she'd never admit it, his sexual confidence is damn near intimidating. But his hot breath against her ear and his endless, patient kisses are an irresistible pull of wanting.

This man is far from bored, she realizes. He's only awaiting her permission to give her something she's never experienced.

Her chest rises and falls in deep, shaky breaths. "No games," she whispers.

"No games," he agrees.

Biting her lip, she guides his hand back to the apex of her thighs. He offers no resistance, humming his approval when she slicks his fingertips through her heat and sets them carefully against her clit.

They move together then, her hand on his, teasing herself while he kisses her neck and shoulder, slowly making his way across her chest. How long has it been since she found release beneath the hands of another? The quiet intimacy of their joined hands, the subtle texture of his scales leaves her breathless, delirious with pleasure, his fingertips sliding effortlessly against her slick center. His mouth wanders over her skin, her breasts, every touch so electric she’s almost not ready for how fast her release sneaks up on her.

"I'm close," she whimpers with eyes squeezed shut, "Oh fuck, Thane, I'm so close."

"Yes, Siha,” he whispers. “Come for me."

She breaks. Every cell in her body clenches in a singularity of pressure before she's launched out in a million pieces, shimmering in the dim light. For once, it doesn't feel cold in her cabin. Waves of heat ripple under her skin, pulsing with every second she spends teasing the tail end of her climax.

She doesn't realize she has a death grip on his hand until she's gone completely still. If it hurts him, he says nothing, only wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her close. When she looks back at him, he's watching her with a knowing, lustful smile. She reaches for him, stroking his delicate neck and earning an appreciative hum that makes her heart beat just a little faster.

"Not that I didn't like you before, but..." she brushes her fingertips along his jaw, tilting his head toward her, "God damn."

Maybe human biology actually is as interesting as he proclaims, if one good orgasm can flood her with this much oxytocin. Like crossing a proverbial threshold, she feels her confidence returning, if only just to tell him we are definitely doing this again. As soon as possible.

"The privilege is mine." His voice is flecked with desire, words she believes so wholeheartedly she can almost see them in the air.

"How are you still wearing pants?"

He growls approvingly as she climbs over him and her fingertips slip beneath his waistband.

"Let's see what I'm about to get myself into," she says with a sly upturn of her lips.

"Or, if you wish - what you're about to get into yourself, " he retorts with no small amount of innuendo.

Immediately she wishes they'd done this sooner. He's... gorgeous. It isn't so much that she thought he wouldn't be, but his anatomy is every bit as colorful as the rest of him and that is a surprise. His length blooms from its internal sheath, a strong and gently ridged gradient of red and purple, nearly glowing in contrast against his green scales.

"Nice," she breathes, reaching for him. "Sorry if I don't have any pretty words to explain how much I want to put this beautiful thing in my mouth." Then she has a thought. "Do you have any fancy words for 'dick?'"

He puffs out an amused laugh and cracks a smile. "I seem to recall you saying something about religion and sex..."

"Humor me," she says, leaning in close enough to make his breath catch from the proximity of her mouth alone.

"Amo'ti," he says. "In your language-"

"Spear of Amonkira?"

He raises a brow ridge at her. "I'm impressed."

She gives his length an appreciative squeeze, testing the give of his ridges, humming at the surprising velvet texture of his skin.

"Maybe," she says slowly, matching the intensity of his gaze, "You can tell me how impressed you are after this." And without any further pretense, she engulfs him with her mouth.

In an instant, his head tips back, and she feels a familiar confidence returning. Men, she thinks, are hopelessly predictable in their pursuit of a hot mouth to fuck. And exactly as expected, Thane's hips are rolling gently forward. She slips her tongue around his length, watching the dancing iridescent scales along the shifting planes of his thighs and stomach.

In the back of her mind, she wonders if drell even do this as much as humans do. But it doesn't seem to matter when he sets his jaw in rapt concentration, visibly struggling to keep his eyes open and fixed on her. She doubles down, flattening her tongue against the underside of his shaft and hollowing her cheeks on the upstroke. His hands thread into her hair, sweeping it from where it falls in front of her eyes and gathering it around his fingers.

Tempted to tease him, she pulls back until the very tip of his length rests against her lips and sweeps her tongue across the head with a seductive smile. Their eyes lock and the sound he makes causes her core to fucking throb with wanting. One hand working him with each teasing swipe of her tongue, she slips lower, plants her lips on the base of his shaft to kiss him with an open mouth. He's shaking now, he's got to be close-

With a strangled gasp, his hips twitch away from her and she stills herself.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," is his breathless response. "Quite the opposite. Come here."

She climbs astride him, pressing the length of their bodies together as his arms enfold her. "That good?"

"Join with me, Siha," he murmurs, his voice low and laced with need. "Find your release in mine."

An unexpected chill slips through her, tingling every nerve with an onset of understanding. She can hear it in the undertones of his voice: I want you. This was never a game. We will be whole, together.

He rocks against her just enough to grab her attention. The brush of his length between her legs is electrifying - his eyes searching, his body asking.

"I'm… uh…" Shepard bites her lip, processing the words slowly. "I haven't been with anyone since I... came back."

His fingers intertwine with hers for the umpteenth time that morning. It's a gesture she's rapidly coming to adore for all its patience and admiration. He kisses the back of her hand, voice low and steady. "You're in control, Commander."

There's something in his well-placed acknowledgement of her authority that placates her. Maybe it's the traces of venom in her system or maybe it's just him, but this man beneath her - this assassin, feared and infamous for the lives he's taken - swells her heart with trust. It's a new and curious thing, so different from the trust shared between brothers in arms. It's simple intimacy, and maybe… just maybe… something more.

Eyes never leaving his, she steadies herself and sinks down on him.

They join together with delicious slowness, his hips willfully unmoving beneath her as she takes him in. The pressure is exquisite, edging somewhere between too much and not enough, each ridge of his florid length finding its place within the scorching depths of her body. She's nearly sweating as their hips go flush, eyes tipping closed with the sweet pulse of their joining.

One painstaking second at a time, she adjusts. It doesn't hurt, but she's afraid it damn well might if she starts riding him like her lust-fueled mind is screaming to. She stifles her own desire, wills her body for control as she twists and flexes herself to banish the lingering anxiety about her reconstruction. It might even be embarrassing - wriggling against him like a damn virgin - but there's no judgement in his eyes. If anything, he's holding back his own pleasure, unmoving while he waits for her. Hands braced against his shoulders, she pushes up, finally bottoming out with a low, wanting moan. His length lodges against her deepest reaches. It feels fucking perfect.

"Fuck," she breathes with a cursory flick of her hips. "Holy shit, Thane."

Features painted with pleasured focus, he's stone still beneath her, hands patiently cradling her waist. Thane, her unlikely but disciplined lover, waiting for her next order.

Her voice is a whisper against his lips.

"Let's fucking do this."

And with that, he begins to move with her.

The groan in his throat vibrates through her entire body as she begins to ride him. Her fingers clasp around his shoulders, afraid to put too much pressure on his transplant scars. He grasps her hands in his own, holding her firm and letting her weight fall against him, hips rolling with her as she finds her rhythm.

His voice is a breathy sound somewhere beneath her. "Siha… don't hold back."

She gasps when the next thrust hits home.

"Shut up," she huffs, slanting her lips over his.

Despite their hours spent together on the battlefield, his strength is shocking. It's near impossible to tell who's riding who, his hands firmly on her hips, his body moving beneath her like the rolling ocean, all muscle and sinuous control. Either sex is way better than she remembers, or he's just that good. He ripples in and out of her depths, each of his gentle ridges strumming her like a harp, sweat rolling down the back of her neck.

His venom is already refreshing its hold on her mind when she breaks their kiss for breath. There's a kind of weightlessness to the high - she floats up, baring herself to his wandering hands. They slide against the plane of her stomach, cupping her breasts, plucking teasingly at her nipples. It's enough to make her cry out, heedless to the rest of the world, grinding on him for all she's worth. She feels the hot coil of release building within her, sensations concentrated in every point of contact. The texture of his scales against her inner thighs, his teasing fingertips on her breasts… his burning length buried within her, filling her to completion like no other.

In the throes of his venom, her cabin disintegrates, and there beneath an endless veil of stars, they are one - chasing release in the arms of the other. Words can't describe this perfect headspace. Later, all she'll be able to say is how he feels so good, wishing she could borrow his eidetic memory if only for these few perfect, fleeting moments, to revisit at her behest.

She slips one hand down to massage her clit and pitches her head back in a gasp, walls clenching involuntarily around his length, drawing a low rasp of pleasure from his beautiful, perfect mouth. Their voices are a litany of breathless sounds, a chorus of shared ecstasy - the desperate succession of skin meeting scales, the trilling of his ruby throat and the expletives that fall from her parted lips. She's close - unbelievably close - and damn near unwilling to finish if it means this moment will end, a rare second climax bearing down on her as she folds against him. Even with her hand trapped between their bodies, the sweet pebbled friction of his scales threatens to push her over the edge whether she's ready or not.

She releases with a scream, his name barely intelligible in a strangled half-sobbed cry of bliss that can't be silenced even as she buries her face in his shoulder. Thane's strong arms wind around her waist, holding her as he drives into the silken, pulsing clench of her heat with abandon. The sound of him illuminates the darkness behind her closed eyes as he spends himself within her and she can feel it - a glittering tingle of sensation radiating between her legs, up her spine and blooming into a full scale high.

And then she sags against his chest, heaving breaths in tandem with him, unable to give two tenths of a shit about her hand going numb between them.

"Thane..." She whispers. "Thane, holy shit."

"Are you hurt?"

"...No. I feel... tingly. It's good. It's so… just, good. Holy shit." Her head lolls against his shoulder. She won't open her eyes - not yet. Whatever's going on out there beyond his embrace - for once, it's not her problem. She feels over-relaxed, tinged with unreality. Like a dream. When had she gotten so damn high? If they'd barely -

...Oh, she realizes.

Drell toxin. Inside her.

Thane hums in contentment, his familiar alien hands soothing through her hair. She wonders if he feels just as sated as she does.

"Tell me it was good for you too," she whispers softly against his aural ridge.

"Siha," his voice is quiet, as if murmuring a secret, "It feels unfair to tell you how many times I will revisit this memory."

"I'll allow it, if you tell me we can do this again."

"As if you even need to ask," he chuckles breathlessly. "Yes, I’d like that."

"I don't think I've ever been fucked like that. I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk straight.”

“Not the word I would use, but I’m glad to hear I’ve pleased you.”

She feels his mouth move in a smile and takes a strong inward breath, raising her head to look at him. She can see her own silhouette in his fathomless dark eyes.

"Say it," she demands.

His brows - those gorgeous, expressive, glittering emerald brows - raise in curiosity. It must be the venom making him so vibrant.

"Pardon?"

Shepard extends one finger to gently prod his chest. "Say 'fuck.'"

He laughs beneath her and it feels like her whole body is bouncing, joining him in his mirth.

That laughter reaches his eyes and his expression softens. "I think perhaps we've overindulged. I didn't expect you'd be so heavily affected."

Her eyes widen in mock incredulity. "Overindulged? Don't you dare tell me that was too much for you."

A viridian palm settles against her cheek, his lips curled in a soft smile so rare it seems like a gift. "What I mean to say is it may have been too much for you, Siha."

She pauses, pushes herself up on shaky arms and sits back on his thighs. He's softening within her, and the retreat of him leaves a trail inside her that feels... not exactly, but... Sort of like someone stuck a breath mint where it doesn't belong. Shepard smiles inwardly. It feels kind of great.

"I'm Commander Shepard," she intones, setting her hands on her hips in a dramatic display of confidence. "I can handle getting dicked down by the most deadly lizard in the galaxy."

Thane is damn near grinning now. “My apologies, Commander. I will think twice before underestimating your abilities in the future.”

"I'm not moving until I hear you say 'fuck.'" She retorts, arms crossed.

"You're wrong, if you assume I want you anywhere but right here."

He reaches for her arms, trailing down her to her wrists to clasp her hands. Above him, she watches as though entranced, the dim light of her cabin blurring the edges of her vision and bringing the slow intertwining of their fingers into crisp focus. For all their differences, they fit together so beautifully. Her heart feels full.

"Thane..."

Their eyes meet as he kisses her fingertips.

"Fuck you, Siha."

#zet writes things #thane krios #shrios #spiritual shrios summer #fshrios #o boy please dont judge me too hard cause ive never worked on a fic so hard in my life and i have no idea what i'm doing

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mimiplaysgames · 3 years

Text

Terraqua Week Day 2 (Rivalry)

Summary: Growing up with your best friend is the greatest joy, the greatest nuisance, the greatest heartache. (The one where they kiss after their fight in Radiant Garden). || Word Count: 6,705

Read on AO3

A/N: My submission for the second day of @terraquaweek !! Title is from a quote from Eraqus from BBS. It’s pretty much the only line in the game that sums up Terra and Aqua, and it’s partly the reason why they’re so amazing. This whole rivals to lovers thing is so much like enemies to lovers and I WANT TO EAT IT ALL. I’m especially proud of this one - I had so much writing it!!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

for when equal powers clash, their nature is revealed

CHILDHOOD

It was a strange dream but she doesn’t remember it when she wakes up, just that it left her with a coppery taste in her mouth and a fog blanketing her thoughts. Something is coming, and she can’t prepare for it.

Aqua decides to tell her best friend about it.

Terra is waiting for her in the woods. They like to hike to the lake, to listen to the birds in the summer. They like to spar away from the training grounds of the castle sometimes, away from the Master’s eyes so they could practice without any scrutiny. She’s grateful to have Terra—he’s just as crazy as her when it comes to their studies. Books past midnight? Sign me up. Spar for five hours? Your ass is grass. Forgo an entire night of sleep to talk about outside worlds, about their worries, their pride, finally being a Master? We won’t be efficient for training tomorrow, but here’s what I’m thinking.

She finds him at the mouth of the forest, a trail down from the waterfall. Terra is lobbing balls of fire, an excited grin on his face, itching to get moving. Too much energy for a fourteen-year-old in the morning.

“What does that mean?” Terra asks her when she describes the dream.

Well, she can’t really describe it. Nothing happened. Darkness. Questions spoken in her head, worries that there was a darker darkness moving around in the shadows stalking her. A nagging suspicion that inside its mouth was something she should have pulled out.

“Nothing’s going to get you here. You’re safe,” Terra says, though she doesn’t need reassurance. “Should we go back?”

“No, please.” Aqua keeps her nose high. “The lake is a good place to rest.”

But they wouldn’t rest. They both love the thrill: training their magic, the thought of an upcoming exam two weeks from now, essays. They can’t help themselves.

Terra punches the air, an energy blast shooting out from his arm. Another fire spell, his favorite. When he gets too involved though, too much, he becomes obsessive—obsessed with winning, obsessed with tripping her up, obsessed with outlasting her. The fury in how he builds his attacks is what makes Terra a dangerous opponent.

He’s perfect.

Aqua dodges and summons an ice spell to repel him, sweeping her kick so it spreads out. That’s the best strategy—tire him out, make him run after her, evade and exhaust, evade and exhaust, strike him when he’s almost done.

Pull. She hears. Pull from it.

One of his attacks breaks her barrier, and she grins, twirling while she heals herself. Every moment she stumbles is another opportunity to learn how to beat him. They’ll talk about their duel after they finish. They’ll gloss over technique and how to improve. Every time they spar, their bond is reforged, connected, strengthened, unbreakable.

Terra throws another blow.

Pull.

This one catches her off guard.

Aqua gasps and shields herself with her arm without a spell to protect her. Terra chokes on her name, too late to warn her.

A light explodes in her face, a flash of flower petals, a spell so instinctual she can’t articulate where it comes from. Her hand wraps around metal, as though an invisible hand has shoved it to her, strong but as light as her feet, a thrum deep underneath, a heartbeat. Its arrival blocks the attack with a barrier.

“A-Aqua?”

She holds her Keyblade in her hand.

“Huh.” Terra grimaces, stepping back.

The Keyblade is curved, striking at the tips, like a slice of movement. Blue and silver, a cool brush of a touch as chilling as snow on her fingertips but warm all the same, the feeling of a beloved embracing her. Aqua jumps in excitement, squealing. She had drawn images in her journal for what it would look like. This is better, much more beautiful.

“I don’t have a name for it, yet,” she says, laughing.

Terra doesn’t laugh with her. “Congrats,” he says, his enthusiasm on a chokehold, his hand rubbing his hip because it can’t find his pocket.

Oh. He’s two years older than her, the first child to come to the Land of Departure, and he can’t conjure his Keyblade yet.

“Terra?”

“I’m fine.” He’s not.

“Wait.” She follows him into the thicket. He’s speedwalking, trying to get away from her. “Don’t be sad. Yours will come soon.” He doesn’t slow down. “Maybe I can help.”

Terra scoffs, scorched. At least he stops. “Or maybe not.”

Aqua fiddles with the tip of her wonderful Keyblade, rolling it onto her palm. “I was thinking how happy I was sparring with you. We’re best friends and I was thinking that…” Heat pools into her cheeks. “I was thinking we’d be best friends forever. Then she came to me. I don’t know how to explain it.”

A muscle twitches in his jaw. “That’s nice.”

“I summoned mine in the middle of danger,” she offers. “Maybe you need the same.”

He arches a brow. But he softens, blinking back tears. “You think that would work?”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know.”

“We could tie you down. I can cover you in ice.”

Terra’s face contorts, as if stopping a snort. “That’s the best you can offer?”

“Should I hang you by your toes and put leeches in your shirt?”

Terra cracks a smirk and she sighs, relieved.

Once he’s able to summon his own Keyblade, they could go home and declare the semester over. The Master will be so impressed.

Aqua calls for an ice spell to stay near. With the Keyblade, it’s much more natural, as if the chasm she normally has to pray through is now a step away. “I won’t hold back,” she warns.

Terra brings his fists together, heat simmering off his skin as a fire spell starts to build. “Good.”

He is the first to strike. Aqua dodges as the flames lick under her shoes, swinging her Keyblade forward. Ice sparks out from its tip and shoots forward in a straight line. It’s so much easier to aim now. Terra sways his hands into a cupping motion, as if picking up dirt into a bowl. Flames burst out of the ground, creating a wall that melts the ice before it hits him.

But Terra has a huge disadvantage: because she’s faster at summoning spells with the Keyblade, she can race around him, dodging everything he comes up with. He’s stuck in one spot, forced to place all his focus on bringing his magic to him in order to pull from it, the worst kind of exposure in a battlefield imaginable.

He wants this, doesn’t he? To be pushed into summoning it?

“Don’t hold back,” he says when she hesitates. He throws a burst of thunder at her.

“Terra, I don’t like this.”

“You promised,” Terra says, closing a fist. He takes several moments to meditate on a spell, and Aqua stops. He’s trying to summon ice, a weaker command for him. But Terra is smart and Terra is capable. He pushes what he’s conjured with a force strong enough to crush her into a tree.

She clicks her tongue when he follows that immediately with a fire spell. It nearly singes her hair, and she retaliates in kind—ten fold. Her fire hits him directly on the shoulder, sputtering onto the bush behind him, spreading like wings on the greenery, blackening the tree nearby and jumping to others.

“Aqua!” Terra grips his shoulder and gapes at the collateral, which is moving too fast to seem real.

“Terra, we have to—”

“Come on!”

Ignoring his injury, he scrambles towards the lake, Aqua following close behind. The forest fire beats heavy behind them, a nasty gray suffocating the sky. The heat molts onto them, the smoke thick and invasive, visibility covered by a layer of graininess. Terra throws himself into the lake and draws a circle on the surface with his good hand. The smoke is now black.

“You need to heal first,” Aqua says, coming up behind him and placing her hand on his shoulder, whispering a spell. Green petals kiss his charred shirt, and he can move his arm better, gathering the water into an invisible bowl to carry back.

Aqua does the same. She tries sealing the fire with her Keyblade so it stops spreading so far. So much work that seems like it’s doing nothing. So much earth that Terra is throwing onto the fire when the water sizzles away. Aqua almost collapses from the adrenaline keeping her standing, from the sweat and soot filling her eyes, from coughing but no matter how much, she can’t clear her throat.

The Master finally arrives and points his Keyblade into the sky. A storm cloud gathers, a wave of water to hush everything. Aqua doesn’t know what comes next, only that Terra is picking her up in his arms.

It isn’t until after she wakes up in the infirmary that she realizes what a shithole they’ve dug themselves into.

It’s raining, trickling down the small window that sits above the bed, behind the pillow. Wooden shelves line the walls, filled with potions that she can pronounce and ones that she can’t. Some are so expired the Master has never opened them. Flasks, beakers, needles, syringes, scalpels, gloves spread across the table. Medical books about the nervous system and the heart are plenty here. There should be two about herbal remedies, but they’re gone.

She hears the Master and Terra bickering on the other side of the door.

“Am I to believe,” the Master says, icy and sharp, “the day she summons her Keyblade for the first time and a sudden, devastating forest fire is to be simply spooned together as a coincidence?”

Terra is quiet at first. “No, Master.”

“Of course not,” he bites.

“I was angry, sir.” This shocks Aqua. “I couldn’t control my magic for a moment.”

That’s not true. He needs to say it was her fault. She didn’t know her own strength and she tried too hard—

The Master scoffs. “I am so disappointed,” he says, his voice shaking in a way she’s never heard before. “I do not have the words. I can’t bear to look at you.”

Her heart sinks. She can’t imagine. She can’t imagine how awful Terra must feel.

The door opens, and Terra slips inside with a gathering of fresh herbs in his hand. His face is ashen and pale. “How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice brittle. He’s about to sob.

Aqua moves and flinches. Her arm. “Ugh.”

“Don’t move.” He rips the leaves off and stuffs them into a mortar. “Your arm is badly burnt. The Master already healed you, but you need longer term care.” Somehow, he doesn’t cry.

Aqua pulls the sheet over her down. Red splotches trail from the shoulder down to the elbow. The Master took care of the severe scarring, but it hurts like she’s still in a pyre. “The fire?”

Terra sniffs and mixes the herbs with the pestle. “The Master took care of it. He hasn’t given me my punishment yet.” Briskly, he approaches her, spreading the concoction over her skin. “This should work better than a potion.”

“Our herb master,” she says, hoping it would make him smile. It doesn’t. Terra has dedicated himself to potion making and teas, considering that healing spells are hardest for him. When he finishes balming her in the mix, he reaches for bandages, holding her by the wrist so he can wrap the entire arm. “You shouldn’t move this for a while.”

“Terra?”

He doesn’t look at her, pinning the bandages in place.

“Thank you,” she says.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

Terra climbs into the bed with her. It’s a narrow cot, the mattress thin and overused, the sheets washed too many times that its threads fray. Terra holds her good hand, bringing it up between their faces. Tears roll down his cheeks and pool on the pillow. “You’re going to be okay,” he says, “right?”

“Yeah.” She smiles. The mix soothes the superficial burns but it takes its time relieving the stabbing pain that comes with such an intense injury. “Why didn’t you tell him the truth?”

Terra frowns, staring at the folds of the pillow under his face. “I didn’t want him yelling at you.”

“I’ll tell him tomorrow—”

“Nah.” He wills a smirk and it looks fake. “We should… celebrate your accomplishment, you know?”

For some reason, it makes her guilty. “Are you really that mad at me?”

“What? No.” He bites his lip. “No, I just… I’m stupid.”

Aqua stares at him. “You’re not.”

He scoffs. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t fail at the most basic part of being a wielder.”

“Your Keyblade?”

He shakes his head. It’s not fair.

“Why didn’t it come?”

“I don’t know.” He sighs.

Aqua gives his hand a light squeeze. “Maybe I was wrong.”

“Pssh. Maybe?” He grins.

She would hit him on the shoulder, but she hurts too much. “Maybe my approach isn’t your approach.”

“Meaning what?”

“Maybe your Light needs something different.”

His smile falls, like that of a lost and abandoned child. “But I don’t know what it wants from me.”

“Hmmm.” Aqua thinks hard, staring at the way his eyebrows furrow as he thinks with her. “You like to protect.”

“Okay?”

“Maybe your Keyblade isn’t about connecting with others or making friends like mine is. Maybe you’re happiest protecting and taking care of them.”

Terra purses his lips, blushing. “I guess.”

“Look.” She lifts her bandaged elbow, wincing. “You took care of me.”

“I took care of a sap.”

“Who was the one crying over me?”

“My secret evil twin. He wants to make me look bad.”

“What kind of a joke is that?” She sticks her tongue out. “Sometimes, I hate your face.”

Terra laughs for real this time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

BEFORE THE EXAM

The books she needs are not where they’re supposed to be on the shelf.

“Terra!” she calls.

“Shhh,” she hears from the other side. Terra is sitting on one of the numerous tables in the library, a long, five-story ballroom with windows for walls, the ceiling a skylight. It allows for the sun to beam on them from all directions, on ornate gold-plated shelves with ladders on wheels for the books out of reach. Of all the desks he could have chosen, figures he’d be right here where she’s frantically searching, just to spite her. “We’re in a library,” he says, voice low.

Aqua refuses to whisper. “We’re the only ones here.”

“How rude.”

“To who?”

Terra gestures to the open book splayed under his hand. “I’m reading.”

He has seven other books stacked next to his parchment and pen. Preliminaries start tomorrow—the preliminaries that would determine their eligibility for the Mark of Mastery next year—and essays are due.

On top of the stack is Darkness and the War for Light, right above The Stars As Your Guides and the ever-necessary Affairs of the Heart.

“I need those,” she says.

“You know the rules—”

“They’re arbitrary.”

“—first dibs, first reads.”

“You can’t read them all at once.”

“Watch me, I’m impressive.” Terra bites his lip to restrain a snort, those deep eyes waiting for her reaction, his strong cheekbones suspended in a smirk. She wants to punch him in the face.

Aqua exhales. Without saying a word, she snatches the book at the top of the stack before he could stop her, bolting for the other side of the table. Terra scrambles out of his chair, tackling her from her behind so he could yank it out of her arms. She’s laughing under the weight of his chest, heat rising to her cheeks.

“You’ll have to fight me for it,” she warns.

Terra snorts, his breath brushing her shoulder. “Really?” He grips the book and pulls. He’s stronger than her and they both know it.

The trick to defeating an opponent so much larger than you is to hit them at their most exposed. Aqua elbows him in the gut, and leaves Terra clutching his side so she could take a seat at the table, where her own unfinished essay awaits.

“I guess that’s fair,” he groans.

“You sought a challenge, so accept your defeat.”

Aqua flips pages of Darkness—this year, it was especially important that they recognize signs of Darkness lurking near. Rage, scheming, impure intentions, greed, selfishness, fear. They’re present in subtle ways. Sometimes people act without realizing. Sometimes people are fully aware. Both are dangerous.

She grunts when she’s shoved over.

Terra brings his parchment with him when he fills her seat, his hips so wide that she’s left with the corner.

“It could be more comfortable,” he complains. His body is warm.

“What are you doing?”

“Writing my essay, but you took my book.”

The one he wasn’t using. Aqua inhales. “Terra—”

“I had first dibs. You broke the honor code, so you left me with no choice.” He smirks. His face is nose to nose with hers, and she imagines closing the gap. “We can share.”

“Fine,” she musters, averting her gaze. It’s awkward staring at him when his eyes look like they’re about to swallow hers.

They work. The book sits between their respective essays, the scratch of pen on paper the only noise filling the room, especially when he strikes long lines across words he no longer wants. He leans over her shoulder to read, his breath heavy on her cheek. If they were in different places, if he had her in an embrace, she could probably feel for his heartbeat.

Though this isn’t something she should be thinking about right now, not when she’s trying to read the three tenants in combating the Darkness. Vow Number One: Do not give yourself to Temptation.

“You’re very distracting,” he says, his voice so close to her ear that it sounds like yelling.

She jumps. He took the words right out of her mouth. “Speak for yourself. You’re too big for this chair.”

“There’s one right next to you.” She could hear how much he loves this.

“I sat here first.”

He leans back and wraps his arm around the backrest. “I have to defend my space.”

“Then you can squirm.”

He huffs, and it suspiciously sounds like he’s pleased with that. Aqua reads a sentence, scans the current page, and flips to the next one.

Terra swats her hand and turns it back. “I wasn’t finished with that one.”

Aqua would scream if she already didn’t enjoy this. She’ll never admit that out loud. “So you’re just,” she starts slowly, “going to police how fast I read this book?”

“Depends on where I am.”

“You’re slowing me down.”

“You’re not being considerate.”

“I can do the same thing.” She flips the page back to her spot.

“Aqua,” he warns.

“Oh, you didn’t like that?” Aqua smirks at him.

He eyes her and smiles. “You make me want to scream.”

Like a mind reader. “Don’t forget—we’re in a library.”

“Okay.” He pulls the book closer to him.

“Okay.” She pulls it back.

Terra strengthens his grip on the book, leaning forward and wrapping his other arm around her waist. To use her as a counter-weight, to push off of her so he can claim the prize, Aqua knows this, but her heart jumps at the touch. He drives her crazy in the most delicious way. He’s addictive.

“Nice to see my students finding some time for leisure,” the Master’s voice says, approaching them from the entrance. “A healthy activity during such a time of stress, if I do say so myself. I commend the both of you.”

Aqua doesn’t know about healthy when she’s thinking about all manners of touching. Terra slips away from her. Is the Master being facetious? Should they move to different chairs? Or would that make them look more guilty?

“Terra is deliberately sabotaging my essay,” Aqua says, voice shaky, her sleeve coming up to cover her blush. Terra has his elbows on the table, both of his fists hiding the lower half of his face.

Eraqus tucks a binder under his arm, glancing over their work. Aqua isn’t sure if she’s seeing things, but she swears that’s a smirk underneath his moustache.

“Well,” he says. “These will be the last essays you will write, if everything runs smoothly tomorrow. Quite a reward for all these years of hard work, yes?”

Terra and Aqua nod.

Eraqus nods along with them, as awkward as the collapse of clothes leaving you naked. “Don’t work too hard,” he advises, and Aqua wants to melt under the table. “Tomorrow will come regardless. Enjoy the time when it is good.”

The Master leaves the library with a different atmosphere.

“Last essay ever,” Terra repeats, mumbling to himself. He’s frowning. They don’t make a move to a different chair, as if doing so would have admitted some secret neither of them even know but nevertheless, they don’t want anyone else to find out. “Then there’s next year.”

Next year.

Some of Terra’s pages have whole paragraphs crossed out. Maybe that’s why he’s better than her at essay-writing. He goes beyond. He’ll scrub out parts he’s already written when he realizes they no longer serve him, drenched in ink blots when he notices small errors. Even with a complete essay, Terra will rewrite it from scratch, to prepare clean pages with no mistakes. Aqua doesn’t consider herself lazy with essays. She just never had a difficult time writing something the Master will want to read.

But all the effort Terra puts into his work means that he considers angles she’s never thought of before. On the subject of Darkness and Temptation, Terra writes: The Master of Masters writes of Temptation: “To tempt a snake for its loyalty reaps safety in the future,” (Affairs of the Heart, pg. 236). Giving in to Temptation when a Light is about to expire harbors selfishness, and that beacons the Darkness to cloud our minds. If we are doubtful, we too welcome the Darkness. However, if we deny the very thing our Hearts want, when we should be following Them as our closest allies, then we are unable to persevere. I question whether Temptation can only have negative connotations. Our duty is to make sure the Light is in balance, and perseverance is key. How are we supposed to keep the Light bright if ours are too dim? Should we not enjoy our own lives as we see fit, follow our Hearts to bring us fulfillment? Should we not make love, or enjoy the dessert we bake? These trivialities are the very thing people hold dear and protect. It is not our calling to enjoy them, but if we are, then our Hearts are at peace. If happiness is shared, then it is Light worth protecting, even our own. It feeds our strength.

Aqua can’t write like that.

Tomorrow, they’ll spar under the Master’s scrutiny. If they pass, they’ll do it again next year and finish their studies once and for all. Ever since Terra conjured his Keyblade, he’s treated his fights like he’s a bulldozer. Tricky to outmaneuver, keeping her on her toes.

He’s still the best sparring partner she could ask for, the best teacher when it comes to outlasting opponents. Her only equal.

“I’m nowhere near finished,” Aqua says.

“Looks like we’re both pulling all-nighters tonight.”

Aqua sighs, and this prompts Terra to hold her hand under the table, interlacing their fingers together. She wants to curl into him, feel what it’s like to really hold him close.

“We’re going to do fine.” Terra says, his voice soft, but he’s so close he fills her mind and every sensation in her body. He rubs her thumb with his.

“All-nighters aren’t pleasant,” she says, thinking ahead to a yard of headaches and yawns. “We’ll need energy.” This is the first opportunity to stand up. “I can make coffee and tea for us.”

“And lots of food.” Terra stands with her. “Protein. Nuts are good for energy boosts. I can make us enough meals to sustain us for the rest of the night.”

They’re speaking with the intention to leave something behind that they don’t want to address, packaging their words away from the obvious. Aqua fiddles with her fingers.

Terra moves his essay over. “Maybe we should work on opposite ends of the table,” he says, clearing his throat. His voice is shy.

“So we can focus.”

“Yeah.” He sounds desperate to agree but also…disappointed? “You can take the book. For now. Consider it my peace offering.”

“It wasn’t an honorable battle to begin with.” She moves hers over too, measuring in her mind how big of a feast they’d fill the table with. They’ll need more, enough for Ven to pig out every once in a while.

“Says the cheater.”

“You were the one stealing my book!”

“You broke the rules.”

“It wasn’t a fair setup.”

“Aqua, I’m shocked.” Terra feigns displeasure, holding his hand over his heart. “I thought I knew you better.”

She groans. She hates his beautiful, impeccable face sometimes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

THEN...

The conversation is a combustion she can’t prevent from happening. It isn’t supposed to be this way.

“And what is this dangerous task, Terra?” she asks, refusing to believe he’d test the teachings they both held so dear. After all these years. That he’d squander his chances at convincing Eraqus to give him the Mark of Mastery. “It doesn’t sound like what the Master told you to do.”

“It might be a different route, but I’m fighting the Darkness.”

“I’m not so sure. I’ve been to the same worlds as you and I’ve seen what you’ve done. You shouldn’t put yourself so close to the Darkness.”

Ven interjects. “Listen to yourself, Aqua. Terra would never—”

“You mean you’ve been spying on me?” Terra says, his eyes narrowing. To see his beautiful face this hurt—stars, she doesn’t know what she’s doing. She should shut up. “Is that what he said to do? The Master’s orders?”

What is she to do? What else does he expect? “He was only…”

Quietly, he says, “I get it,” like the silence in a coffin.

“Terra—”

“Just stay put! I’m on my own now, all right?”

“Terra, please! Listen! The Master has no reason to distrust you, really! He was just worried.”

Her words fall on deaf ears. Terra is not like this, he’s never like this, turning his back, walking away, leaving her to stand and watch him go.

“Why?” Ven asks her. “Why would you do this? You’re letting this whole Master thing get to your head.”

Terra has never said that about her, even when pushed. They’ve been pushed and pushed, how is she supposed to mend the tear now?

“I’ll be right back.”

“He’s really pissed.”

“Stay here.”

“I won’t.”

Aqua stops. A lot is changing and she can’t keep up. “But Ven—”

Ven purses his lips. “I’ll give you guys some time alone. Then I’m going after him.”

Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be. She is the odd one out, the one that shouldn’t follow Terra, the one that broke some sort of code by choosing to side with the Master. They should be on the same side.

“Be safe, please?”

Ven nods, but he isn’t happy about it.

Aqua crosses the alleyway, opening an ornate gate that leads into the town square. Radiant Garden is pretty; they arrived just in time for spring, where the dandelions are yellow and the town is painted in herbal colors. But Aqua can’t get herself to enjoy the view. She can’t appreciate the architecture, the castle, the clock tower, the townsfolk selling their wares, the gentle sunset, not when her heart is collapsing into a growing, weighted pit. Nothing else and no one else exists in the seconds she dashes down the streets.

“Terra!”

He’s heading towards the city gates, where she assumes he’ll summon his glider and fly away.

Aqua speeds up as fast as she can, feeling she’s still too slow. He’s about to disappear if she can’t break her bones and fly. She grabs him by the shoulder. “Terra, please. I don’t want the conversation to end the way it did.”

“Aqua,” he grunts, stepping out of her touch and crossing his arms. “Not now, okay?”

He’s about to turn on her. Don’t let this be the last image she sees.

She hugs him by his waist and buries her face into his shoulder. “Please don’t leave.”

He tenses.

“Please?”

She doesn’t know what to say. Apologize? For doing what’s expected of her? Shouldn’t he know this?

Shouldn’t she understand on some level, after all these years, that sometimes Terra is way more important than her duties? That she should stand up for him when it’s called for?

When Terra finally wraps his arms around her, she squeezes him tighter, hoping the loss of words would translate. How many minutes does she have left before she has to let go?

Terra splayes his hand on her back, as if to prompt her to loosen up. “I need to go.”

“There’s so much we need to talk about.” Why is her heart pounding this hard?

“I don’t want to talk about anything.”

“I feel so awful for what I’ve said.”

Terra doesn’t reply.

Aqua doesn’t know what’s gotten into her, why she can’t trust in anything, let alone the faith that their bond is unbreakable when she is witnessing how it’s cracking under the pressure. She grabs his face and kisses him, the taste of his mouth unique, warm, sweet, more than she hoped for.

Terra seizes her when he kisses back. He wants another. And another. He grunts.

They part for breath, too exposed and in public. Terra takes her aside, into a shadowed alley between a house and the city wall, pushing her against the brick to kiss her harder. She locks his neck in her arms and pulls him in. He’s so enveloped in her lips and he’s so angry, his teeth sliding and nipping barely on her skin like he’s fighting to win, his pelvis on hers, his chest pressing her, squeezing her breath away. She doesn’t want him to let her go.

He pulls away, his touch slacked. Heavy in breath, lips swollen, eyes watery, he trembles as if he’s done something awful. Aqua has her hand on his chest right over his heart, where it thrums quick and strong. He’s strong, he’s always been. She has to believe that.

“I don’t compare to you,” he croaks.

Fear churns in Aqua’s stomach, and she reaches for his wrist. “You do. You—” She doesn’t know what to say. “You shouldn’t think that way.”

Terra pulls from her, snapping their connection, leaving it cold where he was warm. It hurts. “I have to do this alone.”

“Terra—”

“Master Aqua,” he says, and her heart drops. “Please, respect my wishes. This is something I need to do if I’m ever going to—” He doesn’t finish. Instead, he turns over his shoulder, the crown of his dark hair glistening in the light of the sun where he disappears past the city gates. He doesn’t come back.

Aqua wraps her arms around herself, caressing the warmth he left behind for as long as possible before it inevitably leaves her too. She wonders if there is meaning in what just happened, wonders what he’s telling himself that would set him down this path. She’s scared of what will happen if she follows him.

She has to follow him. She has to make sure he’s alright. She prays he makes the right decisions, that they won’t have to fight.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

NOW

At night, the library is surrounded by stars. Twelve years in the Realm of Darkness and Aqua has forgotten that the library is all windows, bookshelves suspended in a birdcage on the side of the castle. It’s drizzling, droplets appearing at random, with none of the weight to drip down the glass. The lights are off, a glow polluting in from the hallway.

Terra is here, lying on a gold and white couch, the stand ornate and the cushions embroidered.

“Welcome to the insomnia party,” he says.

Aqua sits by his ankles. Terra rests his head on his arms, and lets go of the stars above the storm clouds to watch her. He leans up on one elbow and offers her a smile, but it’s a mimic of one. Who knows the reason why he can’t sleep. She won’t ask.

“Can we,” she starts, bringing her knees to her chin. “Talk?”

“We are.”

On the spot, Aqua blanks. “I don’t know where to start.”

He scoffs and unhooks his elbow, plopping back on the cushion. “Pick a place. We’ll get lost together and have to backtrack anyway.” He sighs, rolling his head towards the floor. “I can’t look at any of these books the same way again.”

Five stories of them, and not a single explanation for what happened.

“When it got tough and I needed to rely on my knowledge,” Aqua says, counting words on her essays over the years: 20,000. “I found that none of it could help us.”

“I’ve had questions ever since I started my apprenticeship,” Terra says, staring at the glass ceiling. “Many of them are still unanswered. What was the point?”

“None of it was relevant in the Realm of Darkness.”

Terra rolls over into a fetal position, burrowing his face into his arms. “So what did help?”

“Thinking of you and Ven.” The thought right now makes her smile, a little thing, a blink in the darkness.

“I thought of you every day,” he says, morosely, shyly, with a speck of hope and a mix of self-awareness. After twelve years, Aqua still knows him so well and she’s grateful he’s (almost) the same Terra she came home to.

The thought of that chokes her. “I didn’t want it to be this way,” she says. “Any of it.”

“None of us did.”

“I meant…” She pauses, watching closely. The outline of his shoulders, the shape of his brow. They’re furrowed. “Our dream was to become Masters together.”

His shoulders tick. “I should have congratulated you.”

“What?”

“When you were titled Master. I didn’t congratulate you. I’m sorry for being self-centered.”

After twelve years, that’s the last thing in her mind. “I was thinking of withdrawing the title.”

Terra shoots up, face to face with her. “Why?”

“Like I said,” Aqua whispers, now that he’s so close. “Our dream was to be Masters together.”

“No way.”

“You’re quite passionate about this.” Aqua rubs her knee. A nervous habit, something for her body to do. It used to be natural to hold his hand.

Terra slaps his forehead. “I can’t let you do that. Not after all the work you’ve done.”

“You’ve worked hard, too.”

“And everything you’ve survived.”

“What you did was not survival?”

Terra gapes. “I don’t know, but I need to own my mistakes. I should have accepted my setbacks and my weaknesses…I wasn’t a good friend to you.”

Aqua sighs. “Don’t tell me you don’t deserve it.”

“I don’t want to think about what I deserve. I only know that you deserve better.”

Deserving and not deserving sound like arbitrary definitions, markers of work ethic and integrity when everyone deserves peace of mind. “Then it sounds like you need to work really hard in the next couple of weeks.”

He blinks at her sudden change of tone. “Doing what?”

“Passing the Mark of Mastery.” She looks at her knee. “If you want me to keep my title, you have to pass.”

“You’re keeping your title regardless.”

“Pass and become Master with me.”

“Aqua,” he warns.

“That is the only condition.”

Terra leans his elbow on the backrest, and laughs into his hand. Laughs. It’s a weak and unpracticed song. She forgot what it sounded like. “You drive me crazy,” he says, “but it makes me so happy.”

She swallows. “I’ll contact Yen Sid to schedule the date.”

“Don’t get cheeky. You haven’t won this conversation.”

“Yes, I have.”

When the chuckles shared between them fade out, Terra studies her face, starting at the tip of her forehead, running his eyes down her nose and lips. The quiet is unwelcome.

“Do I look different?” Aqua asks.

“Not really.” He blinks, and it’s too dark to tell if he’s staring into her eyes. “You don’t smile like you used to. It’s like you’ve dimmed the lantern.”

“I can say the same about you,” she says. He’s tired, leaning on the couch like he can’t sit up on his own. He needs effort to speak. When he smiles, they’re delayed, as though he’s lost and needs to be reminded that he lives in reality now. He’s still beautiful. Terra doesn’t ask her to elaborate, but she supposes he understands exactly what she means. She supposes it’s the same for her.

Terra takes her hand and pulls it closer to him. “I do feel better with you around.”

Aqua grips the fabric of her stocking. “The last real conversation we had shouldn’t have been a fight.”

“It’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Oh.” She holds her breath. “Wait, I shouldn’t be sorry for the fight or…” The kiss? She can’t bring herself to ask.

Terra smiles into his knuckles, and a spark of flame ignites his eyes. That’s what it is. Their hearts are tired. No book in the library can teach them how to bring them back to life. How to give it an ounce of oxygen to fan the warmth. Or how to provide a touch of oil, a passionate something to make it burst and remind them what it’s like to really want to hold a Keyblade. Aqua wonders if Terra’s essay on the subject is somewhere in the Master’s old office.

“You know what, I’m sorry,” Terra says, stroking his thumb on the back of her hand. “For that stupid fight. For being stupid enough to have issues with you being Master and for leaving. For being incredibly stupid for not staying in Radiant Garden with you and Ven.” He giggles again.

“Why is that funny?”

“I should have stayed and kissed you longer.” He blinks back tears, inhaling sharply in shock of what he just said. “I guess I needed to get that off my chest.”

Aqua snorts and brings a hand to her cheek. “Yeah, you should have stayed and kissed me longer.”

They say nothing else. Terra takes her face into his large hands and brings her to him, lips to lips, warmth on warmth, chest to chest, heart to heart. He breathes into her, pulling her waist in so she could lie next to him, his heartbeat loud and clear, eager and anxious. A fire grows inside her stomach—she’s forgotten she’s ever felt like this before, years ago when they’ve touched and never went further. It’s invigorating, it’s relaxing. Not a blaze born out of excitement but a gentle hearth, something more than a flicker of the flame in a lantern. Alive.

He mumbles into her ear. “By the way, I have every intention of being the better kisser.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just so you know.”

“We’re really going to be doing this with the kissing?”

“Doing what?”

“What we’ve always done.”

“There’s no contest here.”

“But you want to be the best kisser.”

“I will be the best kisser.” He smiles, digging his nose into her hair. “I must be good enough for you to enjoy it. Therefore, naturally, I have to aspire to be really damn good. That’s all.”

Aqua giggles into his chin, soft and careful and excited when his arm curls around her waist, squeezing her into him. She loves that he laughs with her. She loves his beautiful, cocky face.

They exchange small words in between, a gasp of surprises, whispers about old memories, requests for what she wants, for what he wants. Two wicks to a single candle, held gently between their hands.

#terraqua #terraqua week #aqua #terra #eraqus #OMG I REALLY LOVE THIS ONE #I hope you all too ;-;#my fic

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toosicktoocare · 4 years

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prompt: “jaskier kinda letting it slip that he was some super low self worth? i kinda got that vibe from him. maybe he’s drunk or delirious or something and geralts kinda confused on what to do but Tries His Best. thank u in advance :p”

Wow, my heart.

There’s relief that coats Jaskier’s eyes like a rising sun that’s fought against a long night when he and Geralt step out of a dense forest to see a small village framing the edge of the woods, and Geralt finds his eyes wandering to Jaskier’s through the bard’s soft profile. A hint of a smile creeps at his lips, not even close to holding a candle to Jaskier’s wide, toothy grin, but enough for him to mirror Jaskier’s mood, if even just a fraction.

“Geralt,” Jaskier breathes out, whipping a beaming gaze toward the Witcher. “Do you know what this means?”

“You’ll stop complaining about how the ground isn’t meant to be slept on by such a delicate ass?”

“No, that’s-- I never said my ass was delicate!” Jaskier’s shift in tone, from glee to exaggerated annoyance, brings out a huff of a laugh from Geralt.

“You’re absurd, Geralt, you know that?”

Geralt tilts his head, eyes narrow and slightly devious, and he doesn’t miss the way Jaskier’s cheeks grow impossibly red.

“This means,” Jaskier stresses, drawing out his words as he waves his hands toward the village. “We, my friend, can partake in the finest ale this world has to offer!”

“The finest ale,” Geralt repeats slowly. He hardly thinks this small, quaint village will house ale to exceed worldly expectations, but Jaskier’s excitement has him following the bard into the tavern, stopping briefly to tie Roach to a post by the local in and ensure she’s comfortable.

The tavern is lively when he makes it in, and Jaskier already has a large mug of ice cold ale at his table. It’s half empty, and Jaskier’s strumming loudly on his lute. Geralt nods toward the bar keep, and a moment later, he has his own mug of ale. It’s bitter, cold on his lips but hot in his chest, and he can’t help but sigh deeply around the rim of the mug.

“Oi, bard, what new adventures do you have to share of the old Witcher?”

Jaskier takes a long swing of his ale, and Geralt cocks a brow his way when the bard locks wide eyes to his tired ones.

“Geralt,” Jaskier slurs out loudly, and Geralt takes brief, mental note to Jaskier’s incredibly low tolerance to alcohol.

“Geralt of Rivia! Can I tell them about the fleders? I want to tell them about the fleders!”

Geralt only grunts in response. It’s hardly an exciting story, but Jaskier will put his fib of a spin on it. He offers a curt nod, taking another swig of his ale, and Jaskier leaps from his seat.

“Fly, fleders, fly,” Jaskier sings. “Fly high, and try, but you cannot hide from the Witcher’s eye!”

Geralt thinks back to that day, and his heart beat quickens, for just a single, brief moment. There’s so much in this world that could crush the lively bard, and he doesn’t... he won’t... Sighing, he takes another sip of his ale, watching with an arched brow as the bar keep places another at Jaskier’s table.

“The sword he swings is broad and steel, designed by magic, designed to kill!”

Geralt spends longer than he would like to admit considering how “steel” and “kill” don’t particularly rhyme, and he can’t quite grasp how Jaskier can make it work, but the bard does, effortlessly, even in his apparent drunken state, and Geralt drops his chin into his palm, denying another ale in favor of keeping a clear mind as Jaskier drifts down a sea of alcohol.

For two hours, Jaskier drinks and sings, and the tavern eats him up like fresh, warm bread that’s just been pulled from a wood stove. Geralt keeps a careful eye on each, drunken civilian, and twice, he stiffens in his seat when a man and a woman get too close for comfort to the drunk bard.

“Jaskier,” he finally interrupts after a third man makes an unsettling pass at the bard. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier draws out the name, emphasizing ever consonant despite the general slur of his tone. “I’m just getting started--”

“--you’re done,” Geralt repeats, and maybe it’s malicious, but he puts an orderly sense of power behind his tone that has Jaskier nodding with a dramatic frown.

“Well,” Jaskier shouts, waving his arms about and craning his neck toward everyone as Geralt shoves him out with a hand on his back. “I bid you all a fond farewell!”

Rain has picked up when the two exit the tavern, and Jaskier takes three steps before he trips over his own feet. Geralt tries to reach him in time, but he’s a hair too slow. Jaskier lands face first into a puddle of mud, and Geralt’s at his side in an instant, chasing the flick of concern that nudges at his heart.

“Jaskier, are you...”

His words fall flat at Jaskier’s loud, drunken laughter that rings out across the quiet town.

“How clumsy of me!”

Geralt grunts, sighing deeply as he yanks Jaskier to his feet, pulling him into the inn. He pays more for a room with a tub, wishing to combat Jaskier’s poor mood that will come with morning while the bard is still too far gone on eight mugs of ale.

The inn keeper prepares the bath when Geralt slides a few extra coins her way, and soon enough he’s nudging Jaskier into their shared room for the night.

“Get in,” he tells Jaskier, and Jaskier shouts, face going impossibly red.

“Geralt of Rivia! Turn yourself around while I undress!”

Geralt has a brief thought to encourage this argument, pointing out the few times Jaskier’s seen him naked, but he only grunts, too tired to play along with Jaskier’s antics, and turns on his heel until he’s facing the window.

He watches the rain sliding down the window pane, and upon a closer look, he can faintly make out Jaskier’s reflection behind him. The bard is stumbling, struggling to free himself of his pants, and twice, he almost falls headfirst into the large tub. Geralt huffs out a quiet laugh, turning only when Jaskier finally calls out to him.

“This might be the best bath I’ve ever had,” Jaskier starts. “I think it’s the best bath in the world.”

“Are you always this generous toward the world when drunk?”

“Geralt,” Jaskier huffs out, lips pulling into a pout that Geralt stares at with narrow eyes as he takes a seat against the wall under the window, one knee drawn to his chest while the other leg is stretched out in front of him, toe close enough to brush against the wooden tub.

“You need to learn to appreciate the finer things in life!”

“I don’t need to view the world in light under a drunken haze,” Geralt grunts out, and Jaskier sighs and tilts his head back until he’s staring at the ceiling. Geralt’s eyes follow the way Jaskier’s shoulders slump against the deep sigh. He frowns, tilting his head.

“You’re probably right.” Jaskier rolls his head until he meets Geralt’s eyes. “But you have to admit, it’s fun.”

“What’s fun?”

“Pretending.”

“Pretending.” Geralt repeats, drawing out the word slowly, tone shifting up slightly in quiet question.

“Pretending that you’re better than what you are.”

Geralt’s muscles stiffen at Jaskier’s words, and his brows furrow.

“It’s fun to forget for a moment that your true worth merely amounts to songs that ring out of hyperbolic lies.”

A burst of burning pain blooms like fire across Geralt’s chest. Jaskier’s words stab like a sword pushing past his rib cage to his heart, and for just a brief moment, he imagines pulling Jaskier into his arms as if to shelter the bard from harmful thoughts, but his muscles protest the idea, too stiff against a weight of heavy shock.

“Jaskier,” he breathes out, tone reflecting the pain that coats his eyes, and Jaskier pulls his gaze back to the ceiling.

“You’re a Witcher, Geralt. You’re a legend, and I’m just... small in comparison to your stories.”

Geralt’s muscles move before his mind does, and he moves with them, allowing instinct to push forward for his mind is flitting into unfamiliar territory. He slowly crawls the small distance until he’s inches from Jaskier, and while he normally likes to smirk at Jaskier’s flushing cheeks, he ignores the glow of red this time in favor of placing a rough palm to Jaskier’s damp arm.

“You aren’t small. You tell my stories.”

“I lie.”

“You paint a picture--”

“--a picture that lies--”

“--a picture that encourages imagination,” Geralt presses, determined to win this argument. His fingers tighten slightly on Jaskier’s arm. “You have a gift, Jaskier, and you use it to bring light to an otherwise dark world.”

There are things he could say, that he could alter, that Jaskier brings light to his dark world, but Jaskier’s already tearing up, eyes welling with large tears that threaten to slip down his flushing face, and Geralt gives the bard’s arm a tight squeeze.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Geralt.”

Grunting, Geralt gets to his feet and turns sharply on his heel until he’s facing the bed. He can feel an unfamiliar creep of heat starting toward his cheeks.

“You’ve come a long way from describing my talent as a pie without filling,” Jaskier presses with a few sniffs, and Geralt risks a quick look over his shoulder.

“Yes, well, I’m going to sleep. I’m sure I’ll be up half the night with you making sure you don’t choke on your own vomit.”

Jaskier scoffs, though there’s no heat behind it. “Will you allow me to join you when I finish?”

Grunting, Geralt slips his shoes off near the foot of the bed. “Only if you bring a good attitude.”

#the witcher #netflix the witcher #my writing #my witcher writing #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #jaskalt #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #drunk jaskier #emotional whump #yall it's weird writing in geralt's perspective for once #he's difficult to write i'll tell you that

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laketaj24 · 4 years

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Wondering Eyes: Geralt

Author’s Note: It’s late,l But Happy Valentine’s Day. This wasn’t planned but I had started it a while back. There may be some typos, it’s late and I tried edit lol. I hope you enjoy!(I didn’t tag this time, but will for the others, it’s late and the taglist is huge)

Pairing: Geralt X Reader x Yennefer

Warnings: SMUT. Explicit.

You hated it when you were forced to attend things. Balls included. You slid out of the shoes and placed them at the door. You hear Geralt stirring outside, likely tying up Roach in the nearby stable. You had half a mind to throw his things out there with her. The ball’s disaster clouded through your head, and of course, he didn’t think of it as a disaster. He thought of it as a success, the gleeful songs of Geralt the Witcher had filled his head with thoughts. Every fucking maiden that passed, he fancied or gave a smile. Those smiles were not Geralt’s to give, they belong to you.

“Jaskier is to join us in the morning.” He said upon entry into your home. The house was big but Geralt’s presence made every place you entered feel small. You take a seat at the table and toss out the coins you pit pocketed the night. While he was busy flaunting and galivanting you had made money for yourself. “Where did you get that?”

He knew the answer. You’d taken over ten pouches making them lighter by snagging a few orens and returning them. Geralt did not approve. He made his money the honest way, but it had never been your way. You were a thief at heart. It was easy to take from those who had so plenty, they never realized it was gone. “I saw you with Yennefer.” You changed the subject. “It seems her affection for you is still there.”

“We are friends.”

“Right.” You continued to count sliding the coins over the ridges of the table. “And I am to believe you haven’t fucked a few of your friends?” You scoffed and shook your head. “I would rather you not spend your time flirting with her and the others.”

“Flirting?” he rolled his eyes and slid out of the leather jacket, his bulky arms were hidden in the tunic he wore beneath it, but you knew what was there. “I conversed with them Y/N, you know the ting normal people do instead of steal from every Lord in the kingdom. Geralt moved over to you and shook his head.

You had collected a good sum of orens, it would tide you over when he left, and you knew it was destined to come. Geralt was always leaving. “Mind your own.” You tucked the satchel inside of a wooden jar and slid it on the bookshelf ahead. “And yes, flirting Geralt, besides ward off monsters it’s the only thing you can do. That and fucking.” You smiled.

“Your jealousy is uncanny, unbecoming and more importantly highly unwarranted. If I wanted Yen, I would have her.” Geralt poured the ale into the wooden cup and chugged it down within seconds. His eyes met yours, they were narrowed and pinpointed on you. “You are in a foul mood.” He placed the cup on the table and angled his body at yours.

You glanced him over as you did often and admired his thighs, his flexed arms and the stern face he held as you shook your head. “Perhaps if you did not possess a wondering eye, my mood would improve?”

Geralt growls and stands from the table. The frustration curtained his face and was inherent in the two quick strides on his way over to you. His hand turns your chin up to him and he shakes his head. “My eyes only wander when they are in search of you.”

“Nice bullshit you have there.” You attempted to step back, but instead, you were greeted by the flat surface of the wall and slow annoyed blink from Geralt.

“I may be an idiot, but I am not stupid.” He half smiled. “I like what I have here.” He admitted and caged you between his arms. His warmth made you swoon. Fuck, anything he did to you made him swoon. He noticed bringing himself closer to you before he cleared his throat. “Are you done acting like a brat?”

“I am no brat.” You pouted. It didn’t help your case. He pulled his finger down your soft pink lips, he left tingles as his fingers slid from your chin to your cleavage, stomach and then your belt.

“Nice bullshit you have there,” Geralt through your words back at you and tugged at strings that secured your dress. “I hate to have to fuck the brat out of you, but for some reason, fucking is the only language you understand clearly.”

The strings were undone in seconds, your dress fell to your feet and Geralt dropped to his knees. He had a habit of worshipping your body, you were a goddess to him. He sung your praises with his fingers showed his gratitude with his tongue and showed his faith with his cock. You were his fucking religion. He started with small pecks to your stomach, he kissed each dimple on your stomach, your belly button and then the mound that leads to the sacred planes, his heaven.

He tugged at your curly hair jolting a small cry from you. His heavy hands cup your ass, it’s ample there and for some reason, it was no problem for him to fit it all in his hands. “there are so many things I want to do to you.” He kissed your inner thigh, burying his face in your ridge. His nose nestled before his tongue found the bundle of nerves and flicked. “But you haven’t been good enough to deserve it.” He slapped his hands onto your cheeks a gripped. The pain shot through you followed by the surprise of feeling his teeth sink into your plush flesh.

“Geralt.” Your voice sounded more of a plea than you intended. You whined when he stood and cocked his brow to you. He folded his arms over his chest.

“Goodnight.” He shrugged and turned. The arrogant response from him only ignited your fury more. You charged towards him and he caught your arms pushing you against the wall. One hand cuffed your hands above your head while the other moved down to your pussy and sunk into the wet spot as if it was made for it. “You’ve been horrible today. You know that?” The huskiness of his voice made you wetter. He moved his fingers expertly inside of you, pushing in and out. You could hear your arousal as his speed increased and your legs buckled. “Stand.” He snatched his fingers from you and placed them on your neck, holding you in place.

“And if I don’t?” You rebutted.

That was the last straw, his face reddened, and his finger pushed back into you at a pace that was going to make you shatter. Was this all you wanted all night? Him to possess you, make you writhe? You grinned as the teetering orgasm began to build and the door flew from the hinges. The wind from the door extinguished the flickering candles and in she walked. Yennefer.

You swallowed. “Why is she here?” You felt exposed. Your dress was on the other side of the room and you couldn’t get there because Geralt conveniently had you pinned against the wall.

“I came to help him tame you.” She grinned. Her olive skin glowed in the night, and you didn’t want to admit she was beautiful. She seems to glide over to you, her slender fingers enter you, filling the space that Geralt had just left. Your eyes widen and she grins. “Fuck, Geralt, does she taste as good as she feels?” The question was followed by her sinking to her knees. Her lips were profoundly different from Geralt’s. She kissed your pussy and then her tongue moved passed the pillowed lips and flicked over your clit. “Oh,” She moaned, and you did as well.

Geralt held you in place and smiled in your face as she started to work. She moved as if she knew you. She sucked at your clit, getting the swollen bud right where it needed to be for you to cum and then her finger started to work. She was teasing you. Getting you there and denying. You bucked, you wanted away from her. Slow torture wasn’t your way.

Geralt’s lips were on yours and you melted into him, was trying to ease your mind? If so, it was working. Yennefer fucked you with her tongue and you whined into Geralt’s mouth. “I think she’s good a ready.” He said and Yen stood from the ground placed her lips on yours. You could taste yourself, it made you hotter. Geralt laughed as if he could read your thoughts and with one fluid motion you were over his shoulder and headed to the bed. He bent you over the wooden railing, aiming your ass up for him at the perfect angle. What the fuck was going on? Was this a punishment?

Geralt tossed the tunic to the ground and Yen sat next to you on the bed. “Not so loud about Yen now?” He chuckled and before the smart-ass remark could roll from your lips, he pushed into you. You could feel him in your stomach, he was so fucking deep. “You can scream if you want.” He growled as he began to fuck you. “It won’t help you.” He pushed at the nape of your back and your toes curled, feeling the tip of his cock at your g-spot. You cling to the pole and look up only to see Yen at your face. Her eyes hooked on you before she grins.

“Are you going to scream?” She taunted. “He’s worth screaming over.” She watched as Geralt pulled out of you and then slammed back in and your lips touched hers.

He dug his fingers into your flesh, anchoring himself deeper. His heavy balls clap against your clit and you feel the onslaught pleasure. You were nearly there. Your feet were tingling, the sweat misted all over your body and your pussy felt as if one more stroke would draw you over the edge. Geralt stopped and turned you around. “Were you about to cum without my permission?” He laughed.

“No.”

“It felt like it, see… a brat.” He rolled his eyes and picked you up from the ground. He carried you to the bed and slapped his cock onto your clit a few times before he lowered you down on his cock. This angle was better, you felt everything. One nudge and you were done. So, he stilled. He bit his lip and shook his head, asking permission is so hard for you isn’t it?”

You attempted to buck your hips and he clamped you down on his chest. “Geralt!” You plead.

“Let her cum.” Yennefer added. “I want to see it.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Fuck.” He said feeling you grip his cock with your pussy. He moved his legs for a better angle and then fucked up into you. His strokes were melodic, fucking perfect and you did cum. You screamed as your body shook and collapsed completely on him. But he did not stop. Geralt’s pace was faster, he was obliterating you and you wanted it. Craved it. You felt his muscles tense and the feral groan escape from him as his cock grew harder and the warm cum spurted into you.

You huffed and he did as well, deep laboring breaths to catch a breath that didn’t want to be caught. You glanced around for Yen and noticed she was gone. Never again would you speak a bad word about her, at least for the time being.

Geralt stroked his fingers down the line of your face. “Are you still jealous?” He winced when his semi hard cock slid from you.

“Kinda.”

Author’s Note: ***I had a moment okay, damn!***

#Henry cavill #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fandom #the witcher x reader #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #laketa j writes #henry cavill fandom

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katsukikitten · 4 years

Text

A/N bbs we are on day 4 of Kitten's Valentine's Day event! Enjoy the little picture I made and the fic I whipped up (was gonna do some Todoroki comfort but....🌶🌶 happened instead) NSFW BBS

Sweat beads down the nape of your neck, causing your hair to become damp as it clings to your heated skin. Glitter dances in the low light of flashing lights. Music blares loudly as you and the rest of the sweating bodieds sway to the beat that slowly crescendos.

When the beat drops you catch blue eyes that send shivers down your spine despite the burning intensity of their gaze.

Unbeknownst to you his gaze has been glued to you since he first spotted you, wearing a small black and extremely short jumper that exposes your sternum.

Normally he would fantasize about crushing a sternum, of hearing the satisfying crunch echo back to him followed shortly by a sharp gasp.

But yours, donned in nothing but winking blue glitter drives him mad as he thinks of drawing a different kind of sharp gasp from your kissable mouth.

Of his own tracing down it agonizly slow until he runs into the fabric.

His next thought is what he would do once he runs into that constrictive material.

He smirks as he knows he will burn it to ash beneath his hungry blue flames.

"Are you thinking of slicing someone up?" A familiar giggle interrupts his thoughts but his gaze does not waver, holding into your body like a prayer.

The blonde licks her knife as she looks over the crowd before leaning against a toned arm.

The dark haired man leans further back into the plush bench, long legs resting atop a low table littered with empty bags, bottles, and obscene amounts of cash.

You notice the blonde who giggles, curling herself against him and even whispering into his ear. He leans closer to the blonde but keeps his gaze on you.

For some reason you feel as if you're under the influence of more than booze.

You feel as if you're under the suggestion of a quirk. For whatever reason you cannot look away, as if a lamb staring in the face of a haughty wolf.

His eyes glimmer, smile widening as if he could read your thoughts. You swallow thickly, never sure what entrapment feels like considering you've always been powerless.

"Whose that?" You yell over the music to your friend, she squints before spying the hungry wolf. She makes an obvious face before shouting back.

"He is the woman eater I've been telling you about. Has a new girl each month. Just ignore him."

You turn to give him your back just in case, now hyper aware of his lingering eyes. Feeling their weight even this far away. The song sways your mood, asking you to forget him as the hours pass on.

As he watches he wonders when you'll leave? Will it be at last call or long after?

But what he doesn't know is that while he's looking you're not going home.

You lose yourself to the music, forgetting about him for a few moments before you glance up, just happening to catch his eyes again as he shamelessly stares. Bodies pass between the two of you, suddenly you've lost him before you spy the back of his head ducking through a back door.

Curiosity gets the better of you as you push through the drunken and high crowd towards the door you just barely saw him slip through.

Two guards stand in the way between you and the mesmerizing pair of eyes that you still feel on your skin. You shudder from the thought before a guard puts out a meaty arm to block the door.

"Restroom is that way." The other says gruffly pointing to the opposite end of the building. As a lie begins to form on your tongue a slender arm is slipped through yours.

"She's with me boys." A sugary voice purrs as a blonde head presses against your exposed arm. Both guards look visibly disturbed as they look at the woman who clings to you. The same one who clung to the blue eyed man. You swallow thickly as you stare into her face, noticing her ever flushed cheeks, golden eyes half mast as they glitter with manic glee even in the low light.

You especially notice the belt of a blades of several different sizes with hilts all decorated differently snugly wrapped around her slim waist. Briefly you question her age as she wears a school uniform but quickly you realize that there is a kink for it.

You smile politely if not awkwardly as the guards part their arms, allowing the odd duo to enter.

She slips from your arm, wrapping delicately strong arms around your torso, a knife now resting against your throat as she sing songs into your ear.

"Not everything you seek is good for you." She giggles, she pushes the knife with enough pressure and accuracy that a single drop of blood wets her blade before she pulls it away slightly to examine it. You watch her cheeks flush in the mirror of the blade as her eyes flutter from the sight.

From the small copper tang smell.

Your breath hitches, body frozen beneath her touch as she admires her work. The image of cold iron plunging into your throat, tearing apart your flesh with white hot swipes has your throat closing up while your heart free falls into your twisting stomach. Still you make no move to break free before she jerks her wrist in front of you causing you to both flinch and clench your eyes tightly shut.

When the kiss of her blade does not come you peek with one eye, vision slightly blurred as tears threaten to fall.

She points with her knife giving you a small shove, your hand automatically flies to your throat. Small beads of crimson dot your shaking fingers before the bleeding slows to a stop.

"He's that way. And if he doesn't choose to keep you. You'll be all mine." Another manic giggle before she let's her tongue slide up the length of steel grabbing every molecule of blood that she can. She shudders from pleasure, toes turning inward as she savors your life force.

"Oh how I hope he doesn't pick you...." She coos as you take a few steps back before turning to sprint.

Ragged breaths have your hands grabbing onto the nearest door knob before you slip into a darkened room. You stare through the small window, back to the room as you wait for her to pass by.

Once you realize she is not going to give chance you stop to catch your breath. Hands on your knees as you replay the most horrific moment you've encountered thus far.

Of her pink tongue lapping at the blood on the blade.

Lapping at *your* blood. Fingers press into your throat as you try to even your breathing. You pull your hand away for your digits to come clean easing a bit of your pain.

"My my, what is the little lamb doing in the Lion's den?" You shudder at the voice behind you, knowing exactly who it belongs to despite having never heard it.

He wastes no time, hands on your hips, pressing your toned ass against him as his tongue laps up the lingering droplets of blood from your encounter moments ago.

A gasp escapes your lips, head swirling as you feel him harden against you. The bass just barely reaches the two of you in the small room, lit only by the light from the hall and now candles in flickering blue flame. You gulp down another moan as his hand slips through the V, warm digit swirling over your perked nipple as a mouth steadily marks you as his.

You give into pleasure when you catch glimpse of his burning blue eyes in the reflection of the glass. Moaning as his heated hands explore more and more of your body as you brand him in your own way with lingering glitter. He growls in your ear as he tugs at the fabric of your jumper before it ignites, instinctual fear and panic pull at your stomach before you realize you're not burning. The blue flame is pleasantly warm as it licks up the fabric before it falls to ash at your feet. You feel his lips curl up against your hear before he speaks.

"That's more like it."

His hand finds your dripping core causing your throat to tighten. Not in panic but in fear of being too loud as he wets his fingers in your slick. Teasingly pressing agaisnt your throbbing clit before plunging them into your core.

"Aaaahhh." Your breath comes out hot, now of all times you wish you knew his name. As if he could read your mind whispers what to call him before nibbling on your ear.

"Dabi or Master is just fine." His tone dips cruelly before seizes your throat, hard enough it may leave a bruise.

But in that oxygen deprived moment you can do nothing but let this mesmerizing man have his way with you.

"Is that fine with you my little pet?"

"Y...yes master." You struggle to get out past moans as he increases his pace, separating his two fingers every now and again to make sure your cunt is ready for him.

"Good. I figured from how wet you are but I wanted to make sure." His voice is velvet in your ear before he removes his fingers from you, causing an aching feeling to settle both between your legs and in your chest.

"Here convince me that I want to make you a meal." He says presenting his fingers into your sight line. He separates them to show your clear juices string between two fingers. Blush dusts your cheeks as he connects them again moving them closer. You lick up the length of his fingers before sucking on them hard, he forces his fingers in further hitting your gag reflex to which you barely respond. He smiles from ear to ear as he thinks of all the ways he is going to ruin you.

He moves to bend you over what must be a low filing cabinet, the counter's edge bites into your hips as he spreads your legs to his liking. He bites his lip as he watches you twitch before he swirls his fingers a moment more. Removing them again as he eats you alive.

*"He's the woman eater...." *

Is this what your friend had meant when she called Master that?

You weren't sure, the only thing you were sure of is how quickly your release approached, all the while your gasp out his name and title interchangeable.

"Mmmmmmaster....." You cry out as he sucks harshly on your clit while you see stars. Finally convulsing and bucking agaisnt his mouth before he pulls away. You lean up, ready to drop to your knees to return the favor only for him to slam you down onto the counter with his strong hand, overstimulating you with his tongue to coax another crescendo out of you. He removes his belt, slapping it agaisnt your ass until gorgeous welts appear before he tenderly wraps it around your throat, holding onto it as if it were a leash. He drops his pants, stroking down the bead of his precum to wet himself although there is no need as you begin to wet your own thighs. You sway your hips, hoping to be filled like the slut you are earning a grin before he pulls harshly on the belt causing your head and upper body to come up a few inches from the cool surface.

"Hands stay on the counter, pet." He snarls in your ear, as he presses himself against you. You whine in response before he finally sheaths himself with one harsh thrust.

"Fuuuuuuck." He drawls out, stroking both your ego and G spot as he pulls out to plunge into you again. Quickly he sets an unforgiving pace as he pounds into you. Squeezing your hips and pulling on the belt ever now and again. You moan loudly, borderline screaming as he pounds into you, pulling out every animalistic desire you have. Especially so as you hear yourself echo in the room paired with his deadly grunts and the wet slapping sound of you taking him so well.

"Who do you belong to?" He hisses as grows closer to the edge.

"You master..." You cry out, feeling his dick twitch sends you ever closer to yet another cum of the night. He leans over, pressing himself into your back as he whispers in your ear.

"Damn right. You belong to me and no one else. You got that little slut?" You can do nothing but nod before he bites down onto your shoulder harshly sending you over the edge to convulse around him. Attempting to milk him for all that he's got. His hips begin to pound into you harsher and more sloppy as he continues to chase his own relief.

"Fuuuccck. My little slut has the best pussy.." He slurs before biting you again, cock endlessly twitching as he fills you to the brim, some of it oozing out to collect on your thighs. His hips stutter as he rides it out causing you to whimper, filling you with the desire for more, more of him and more of his seed. He slips out of you and leans away only for you to turn around and bring your mouth to his in a searing kiss. Tongue sliding across his in an attempt to tell him through hushed whimpers that you want to fuck all night.

Need to.

"Little pet." He smiles, wiping away the extra spit from your lips before he yanks you by your "leash".

"Let's get something to eat." You nod in response although your face is obviously crestfallen. He yanks on your leash, pulling you closer to him as he kisses you with lustful fever, hands exploring your breasts and hips before he pulls away completely before dressing in his over sized fur lined coat.

"And then I'll fuck you all over again. Okay my needy slut?"

#dabi x reader #bnha x reader #bnha dabi #bnha smut #dabi smut #mha dabi #kitten valnetines day event!#bnha au #bnha imagine #bnha imagines #dabi bnha #bnha dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n

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dragonologist-phd · 3 years

Note

Could I request something with, “What am I supposed to do when I can’t even trust my own mind?” or, “You see everyone so clearly except yourself,” using one of your Pillars OCs?

thank you for the prompt! I got You see everyone so clearly except yourself from someone else, so I’ll do What am I supposed to do when I can’t even trust my own mind?

For this one Rudi grabbed my inspiration, so have some Rudi & Eder BroTP!

(AO3)

When Edér first wakes up and realizes Rudi is gone, he isn’t too worried. Over the course of their travels, he’s learned that she’s got a habit of up and wandering off whenever she can’t sleep. He himself is usually the first one of their little group to rise in the morning- an old habit from years of farmwork that still hasn’t died off- and it’s no strange thing for her to come waltzing back into camp just as he’s relighting the fire, brandishing a rabbit or two for breakfast. So rather than wonder where she’s gone, Edér simply follows their routine and waits for her to return.

When the sun has crept up above the horizon and the others are beginning to stir awake, Edér does begin to get a bit concerned. The woods along the river pass aren’t especially thick, and Rudi is more than able to handle any stray bandits or wandering beasts… but still, with her luck it’s hard to tell what she might encounter. Best to check in on her, Edér decides, even if she makes fun of his hovering later on.

It doesn’t take long to find her- she didn’t bother to cover her tracks, and it’s hard to miss the lion footprints leading down dirt path. The first moment Edér catches sight of her, he thinks that maybe she actually fell asleep after all. She’s nestled on the ground, back against a tree, knees curled up to her chest so she can rest her chin on them. Sol is curled up at her feet, his tail flicking lazily through the leaves that cover the ground.

Then his foot comes down on a twig with a sharp snap, and Rudi’s head shoots up. Sol is on his feet at once, teeth bared and every hair in his mane standing on end.

“Whoa there, buddy,” Edér says, holding up his hands and giving the big cat a grin. “It’s just me.”

The lion only snarls in response, not relaxing until Rudi lays a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Sol.” She stands, stretching out her arms as she does, and turns to give Edér a weak smile. “Checking up on me now? Sorry, I guess I lost track of time out here.”

Her tone is casual and unworried, but it doesn’t match up to her appearance. She just looks so damn tired- bags under her eyes, unsteady on her feet, and a half-hearted grin that just doesn’t quite do the job. “Now, I know it ain’t polite to comments on a lady’s appearance,” Edér says, keeping his tone light, “But did you get a wink of sleep last night?”

He’s hoping to draw a laugh out of her- and normally he might have- but today Rudi’s mood instantly shifts, her eyes narrowing and her mouth setting into a hard line. It’s the same look she gets when she’s deciding whether to shoot something or not, and if she weren’t looking too exhausted to aim straight Edér might consider hiding behind a tree. Eventually she settles for crossing her arms and fixing Edér with a stern look. “Maybe. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need sleep. I need to hunt down Thaos before…”

She stops and looks away, blinking hard and lifting a hand to her temple. The moment passes quickly, and then she’s pushing past Edér with a scowl. “Let’s just get going.”

“Whoa, there,” Edér says, putting a hand on her shoulder as she passes. “You sure you’re good?”

“I’m fine,” she insists, pulling away.

“Right. You’re actin’ exactly a person who’s fine.”

Rudi turns her glare on him again, to which Edér only raises an eyebrow. And then the fight goes out of her, just as suddenly as it came, and her shoulders slump as she lets out a heavy sigh. “Fine, yes, I got some sleep. For all the good it did.”

“What does that mean?”

“I had…dreams.” Rudi looks down and kicks at the dirt. “Memories, I guess, I don’t know. And then I woke up and I didn’t even know where I was, I just kept thinking I had to find…someone. Like it was the most important thing in the world that I find her right away.”

Watcher stuff, Edér thinks, worry sinking into his stomach. He knows Rudi’s been having nightmares and visions and a whole mess of strange stuff. But he’s been hoping it’s the sort of the thing to get better with time, not worse. “Who were looking for?”

Rudi shrugs, but her eyes flicker upward, and for a moment they flash as Rudi stares at something that isn’t there. “Iovara.” She speaks the name heavily, as if each syllable carries an unfathomable weight.

Rudi goes silent then, until Edér finally has to ask, “Who’s that?”

The questions breaks her from her reverie, and she scowls and throws her hands into the air. “I don’t know!!” she exclaims, turning to pace in a circle. “I just had to find her, and I started moving- with no idea where I was or why I was here- and then Sol came up to me and for a split second I was scared. Of Sol. Like I didn’t even know who he was.”

Her voice gets thick, and she stops to take a breath, sinking once again to the ground with her back against the tree. Sol watches her with concern, and approaches to nuzzle against her shoulder. A small, sad smile creeps onto her face as she runs a hand through his mane.

As Edér watches the two of them, it occurs to him that he’s never actually seen them separated. Sol sleeps at Rudi’s bedside, shares her meals, even sit next to her in the receiving hall at Caed Nua. For Rudi to not even recognize him, even for a second…he can’t imagine it.

And apparently she can’t, either.

Eventually, Rudi recovers herself enough to continue. “After that, I guess I just…woke up. I remembered who I was, and the other memories went away but I…gods, Edér, I couldn’t go to sleep again. I couldn’t risk going away like that.” She closes her eyes, her hands trembling as they continue to stroke Sol’s mane. “I’ve always been able to take care of myself. But what am I supposed to do when I can’t even trust my own mind?”

It’s a big question, that’s for sure. And yet to Edér, the answer is immediate and obvious.

“You trust us, of course.”

Whatever Rudi is expecting, apparently that isn’t it. She blinks, looking up at Edér in silence, and he takes advantage of her surprise to continue. “Hey, I know you haven’t really known us all that long. But you know we’re your friends, right?” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, maybe not Durance. I wouldn’t put much trust in him. But me and Sagani and everyone else- we got your back.”

He bends over and holds his hand out to Rudi. “We’re gonna look out for you, and we’re gonna find this Leaden Key guy, and we’re gonna put you right as rain again. So don’t worry too much about bad dreams and memories and such.”

Rudi hesitates, watching Edér with unveiled skepticism. “And if I forget again?”

He shrugs. “Bucket of cold water. It’s a cure-all, and I bet anything it’ll wake you right back up.”

Rudi regards him for a moment, then snorts as she takes his hand, letting him pull her up. When she’s on her feet again, she shakes her head and punches him in the arm. “That’s your first instinct? Really?”

“It’s an incentive, too,” Edér answers with a grin. “Keeps you on your toes.”

“Ass,” she says, but she’s laughing, and the tensions seems to have left her shoulders. She still looks exhausted, and maybe still a little worried…but she also looks much more like the Rudi Edér knows so well.

“Alright, let’s get back. For real this time.” She starts walking in the directions of the camp, rubbing your back and groaning as she goes. “Gods, I’m too old to be staying up all night. And we’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

Edér grins, falling into step beside her. “Bet you could convince Maneha to carry you for a while.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that. First good idea you’ve had all day.” She continues like that, talking and making jokes as they approach the campsite, Sol padding quietly at her side. Just before they arrive in sight of the others, however, she pauses and glances at Edér from the corner of her eye.

“Thanks, by the way,” she says hurriedly, as if embarrassed by the words. “I do trust you, you know. I haven’t had someone like that for a long time, but…you’re a good friend.”

Edér nods- of course he knows. ‘Cause Rudi’s his friend, too- probably the best one he’s had since his brother- and looking out for each other is just what friends do.

#ch: rudi #prompt fill #thanks for the prompt!#pillars of eternity #risualto

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs “Climbing

Just a little something quick and funny for everyone this Tuesday morning.

The desert planet was warm, as most desert planets are, but despite the dry heat, it was hardly comparable to an earth desert which could quickly take your life in under a day if you weren't careful. Honestly, he would have compared the weather to that of the Rockies in early August. Maybe 81 degrees tops.

The ground below their feet was covered by a strange purple sand, and the sky above was a dusky orange to match the orange rocks that lifted themselves high into the sky. There was no wind, which would have been a good thing, he imagined that the sandstorms here could be quite devastating. Despite the heat, or rather, lack of it in his opinion, the others weren’t doing so great.

When he said others he meant their non-human counterparts, the humans were fine. This temperature was at the higher end of Krill’s comfort scale despite him being a creature that photosynthesized light. Sunny looked downright uncomfortable, which made sense her planet was comfortably tropical when it came to climate, and sky ash kept the sun from hitting the ground on most days out of the year.

The three of them and a group of marines were led across a thin dessert and up towards a small outcropping of orange cliffs. Commander Vir kept his eyes wide scanning the surroundings. One might have assumed he was looking for threats, and to the watching aliens, that’s exactly what it looked like. However, he was honestly just wishing he had thought to bring a camera. In that case he was going to have to attempt and draw this landscape later, not that he was all that great as an artist, but he was at least possible enough to make his ideas known.

Internally he was kicking himself.

By the time they reached the foot of the hills, Krill was lagging behind, and one of the marines had dropped back with an umbrella helpfully casting a shadow over the small figure. Sunny stood at his back like she always did. He doubted there was anything that could make her leave his side even if it meant hurting herself to do it, so he slowed his pace.

“Commander Vir, thank Sanctum’s rings you’re here.”

He stopped atop a bare patch of orange rock and bowed, “Councilor.”

The rundi woman adjusted her black robes and turned to look back towards the outcropping of rocks. Commander Vir could hear it now, a small voice shrill and defiant throwing curses at the gathered assembly members and their accompanying guard.

“What’s going on.” He wondered. Upon hearing his question, the assemblywoman motioned over one of the other delegates, the Gibb representative, who was looking both embarrassed and exasperated. Commander Vir could understand why, the Gibb must have had a hard few months with his countryman (the scientist) going off his rocker and capturing an entire prison only to experiment brutally on it’s inmates. Tensions were a bight tight between his species, and those from Earth and Mars. Commander Vir knew enough not to totally blame them. Their species were known for the commonality of mental instability, delusions, and psychotic breaks.

Statistically it wasn’t that common, but it was more common than it was even with humans, who were known to be highly mentally unstable.

“I am afraid, the second Gibb representative, other than I, has experienced the reduction.” The Gibb’s five spidery eyes stared on glassily at the commander as he continued, “Usually we would just let him go quietly to return home in peace, but those circumstances remain difficult when his delusions have convinced him that he is a mighty warlord and we are his enemy. Even that would not be so much of an issue, but he has found himself an impenetrable fortress.

Commander Vir was almost 100% sure that was exaggerated, but decided to keep his mouth shut first asking to SEE what the situation was before proceeding.

They walked up on the scene to the equivalent of maniacal laughter. He craned his neck upwards at the rock face.

“Look at you, you WORMS! You cannot DEFEAT ME!”

He could finally see what the issue was now. The Gibb’s little fortress didn’t appear to have any doors that he could see. The only opening was at least fifty feet up the rock and about two feet by three feet. A hover craft wouldn’t be able to come near the hole as it wouldn’t be able to squeeze into the space between the rocks. Going in from above was also not an option since the cliff face rose to at least 100 feet in the air above that and was too rounded at the top to land a craft.

“See my impenetrable walls!” The gibb yelled, “Even against you humans I-”

“Are you kidding me!”

The gibb looked down in annoyance to being cut off. The entire delegation turned to look at the human standing with his arms crossed one eyebrow raised clearly unimpressed.

“You think you can challenge me human!”

Behind him a few of the marines stood smiling clearly on the same wavelength as their captain, “I… well it’s not a challenge, but I’m seriously asking…. Are you serious?”

The gibb looked quite confused now, “I AM the end!”

“Well ok, sure you are.” The human said voice slightly exasperated as if he was talking to a small child, “In that case does The End or the lord of the rock face have any idea what a primate is?”

Seeing the confusion, the captain continued taking a seat on a rock as he began to unlace his boot, “Humans are primates, and so are monkeys. We share a common ancestor that lived in trees.” He flexed his fingers at the Gibb, “See these, hands used for gripping onto branches…. For climbing specifically.” He set his boot to the side, and the other marines began following his lead rolling up their pant legs and lining up their combat boots in a neat row on the ground.

The commander lifted his foot, “See these, they are the exact same thing as hands, accept evolved for running. We used to use them to swing through trees.” He flexed his foot and wiggled his toes causing a murmur to rise up from the crowd, “I can pick up things with my feet.” He rolled up his pant leg, “So Here is what I am going to do. I am going to use my magic powers of hands and feet and drag your idiot ass back down here faster than you can say, oh yeah I probably should have known that humans were originally evolved to live in trees.”

Without prompting, the other humans came to join him at the base of the wall. Above them, the Gibb was spluttering angrily while the rest of the delegation looked on in mild interest.

“But you CAN:T humans can already swim and run, you cant ALSO climb.”

The human didn’t bother to look up, instead reaching down to rub some of the purple dirt into his palms, “Don’t suppose you've heard the song. I can do what you can do but I can do it better? No, well same premise, I can run, I can swim, I can jump, with a little help I can fly, but since I forgot my jetpack at home, I may as well as show off some natural selection.”

The alien delegation watched in interest as the human gripped onto his first rok, and by an excellent show of strength, hauled himself up the wall. His other hand followed, as did his other two feet. The toes of his right foot probed the rock face gripping onto minute ledges in the stone just as his fingers did. The prosthetic, Drev-designed, foot struggled, but he made good time up the first few yards.

A team of the marines went with him. A few of them scuttling up the wall like spiders.

At about 20 feet the assent grew more difficult, and it seemed as if there was no way to go, but the humans didn’t seem bothered. Gripping onto ledges and protrusions, despite taking longer to think their path through. Commander Vir had fallen behind struggling with his non-human leg.

Eventually he simply gave a curse, and a small blade snapped from the toe of the prosthetic.

He drew his leg back and slammed it into the stone soon overtaking the other maines as he was able to place a foothold wherever he pleased.

“That's hardly fair.” Ramirez muttered.

“Oh yes Ramirez, I am so sorry you have all of your legs. Let me cry for you.” The Commander muttered sarcastically as he clambered up the wall.

“That’s cheating.” Another human called

“No, I’m just evening the playing field for a cripple.”

The council members below looked on in wonder and amazement as the humans, somehow, clambered their way up a vertical face speaking normally with each other as they did. As always, the leader of the humans seemed to have no concept that he was crippled.

Above the Gibb had gone quiet sinking further back into his hole.

The humans all made it to the top safely, and rather smugly, and with their superior strength, what little fight the Gibb could put up was lacing and rather pathetic. Two of the humans rigged up a rope to a steel hook driven into the stone, and the commander himself picked up the gibb under one arm like a troublesome child. From there, each of the humans clambered easily down the rope as if they were simply walking. Some of them chose to slide straight down, while others simply walked backwards down the face of the wall using the rope to support themselves at a horizontal.

Commander Vir only required the use of a single arm as he made his descent. And dumped the Gibb on the ground at the feet of the council rubbing purple dirt from his hands. He nodded to the council, and then just simply walked away nonchalantly to recover his shoes.

The council thought it might be a good idea not to tell the humans how long they had been there trying to come up with an idea.

It would probably be prudent to keep this little fiasco unknown to the public. If people knew that it had taken a one legged human, and his strange hand feet thirty minutes to do what the council had failed to do in days, than there might be some questions raised about their own effectiveness.

#humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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bigboomboi · 4 years

Text

Heaven and Hell

So, I spent a hot minute writing this and then screwed up by giving my ‘reader more character than need be, then gave her a name.... Then came up with MORE story line.... Welp.

@smittenkitten143 hi it’s shy friend

Words: 4762

Warnings: Angst, blood, uh i think that’s it

“Mina, you squirm so much!” A winged girl complained, ungracefully dropping Mina on the ground.

“Sorry, Mao just went so high, it scared me.” Mina pouted, picking herself up.

“Mina, I was only eight feet off the ground, it’s not the highest you’ve been.” Mao sighed, fluttering her wings to dust them off. “You’ve been thrown higher.”

Mina laughed and followed her up to the dorm doors. “But that was against my will.”

Mao rolled her eyes and groaned. “If you’re scared of heights, why did you ask me to carry you?”

“Because you’re my best friend and you love me so very much.” She answered, throwing her arm around the winged girl.

Mao paused and narrowed her eyes down at Mina before wedging her wing in between herself and the pinkette. With perfect timing, she flicked Mina off of her body and into the unsuspecting Denki walking past. Both yelped, barreling into the wall before falling into a heap of idiot.

Mao snickered and continued into the lounge. “You know, for an angel. You’re an asshole.” Bakugo commented.

“Awe, you have no room to talk, Boomer.” She teased, flicking her wing at him as well. “And who says I’m not a devil?”

Mao’s quirk was classified as Heaven and Hell; a set of permanent wings protruding from her shoulders with the heavenly gift of graced white wings and damned black wings. She had the ability to switch between the two at will, whenever she saw fit, and both versions had their perks.

Bakugo swatted at her feathers and scoffed. “The halo on your head, Angel.” That was new, there was normally an insult in front of that nickname.

“Yeah, it’s just stuck on my horns.” She shrugged, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

She and the explosive hero had an odd complicated relationship. While they never explicitly said they were together, they never said they weren’t. Mao was never afraid to quip back at him and easily went toe to toe when battling, so he most definitely respected her, not that he’d admit that aloud. It was apparent the two cared for each other, just neither wanted to take the leap.

“Anyway, I’m gonna shower, Mina got dirt in my wings.” Mao hummed, content with the colour on his cheeks before turning and jogging up the stairs to her room.

She sighed and stepped into the massive room, really it wasn’t that large, maybe only twice the size of a normal dorm room. But she still felt bad, they modified her room to accommodate her wings. They’d even offered her a bath, seeing as she couldn’t really fit in a normal stall, but thankfully they settled for elongating a shower in the shower room.

An hour later Mao stood out on her balcony, shaking the water out of her wings. The plants below probably praised her name for how much water her wings always share. A resounding knock echoed through her room startling her a bit.

She opened the door to reveal a blonde pyromaniac. “Hello, Bakubomb, what brings you here?”

“Shitty hair is being annoying.” He grumbled. “You gonna let me in or what, Bird Brain?”

She contemplated it for a minute, this wasn’t the first time he’d made his way to her room with a dumb excuse and each time she let him in. So this time was no different. She smirked and grabbed her blow dryer.

“Well, I do need help drying my wings.” She sighed dramatically.

He rolled his eyes, trying to appear annoyed at the request, but nevertheless stepped into the room, snatching her hair dryer. She took a seat on the floor and let one of her wings expand completely. He sat behind her, quietly doing the job he’d done many times before.

They sat quietly for a while, comforted by each other. His fingers gently ruffling her feathers, removing loose ones and massaging the muscle under them. She looked over her shoulder and lowered her wing a bit to see his face.

“I liked it earlier.” She admitted. “When you just called me Angel.”

For a long moment he stayed silent, still running through her wings. “It’s what you are, isn’t it?”

Mao grunted as Kirishima’s fist connected with her jaw, she stumbled a bit, giving him ample time to continue to charge her. But she curled her wings over herself, hardening them for protection. While he continued to wail down on her, she summoned a bright glowing bow.

Quickly expanding her wings, she blew Kirishima back a few feet, giving her enough room to draw back two arrows. She released the arrows, letting them fly aimed for his feet before rushing him. The glowing beams exploded as soon as they touched the ground, launching him into the air.

Mao grabbed the dazed boy out of the air and soared higher. Once she deemed them high enough, she let him go. She watched him fall for a minute before following after him in a nose dive. She closed her wings around herself and started to spin, drilling him into the ground.

“That hurt…” Kirirshima mumbled, in his self made crater.

“That was the point.” She flicked his forehead before taking his hand and pulling him up.

She smiled cheekily at him as her Angel form faded. Pretty gold tattoos decorated her neck and twirled around her arms before receding back to their usual spots- a golden stripe flowing down her spine and dots on her palms. The blue in her eyes dulled to a normal hazel and she was back to her everyday look.

In her civilian form, her grace and damned hid away, but without extending them out, she was only able to make use of her wings flight and nothing else of her quirk.

“Alright Mao-.” Aizawa started as they walked to meet the class.

“I swear on everything under the sun, if you don’t say go take a break, I will punt Mineta like a ball.” Mao threatened.

“Why me?” The small hero yelped.

“You’re closest.” She hummed with a shrug.

“That’s not very angel like.” A voice commented.

Turning around, everyone saw the 1-B was joining them on the field, Monoma in the front. “I get that a lot. It’s not my fault everyone assumes the white on my wings is authentic.”

“Oh is it not?” He asked, stepping close to her, smirking. “The colour of your wings doesn’t matter, you’d be just as beautiful.”

Suddenly he was blown back on his ass as she fluttered above him. “Flattery gets you nowhere, you’ll have to try harder than just flirting to copy my quirk.”

“Beautiful and observant.” Monoma acknowledged the fact that she noticed his hand moving towards her body.

Mao blinked at him, unimpressed before landing on the ground, a safe distance away from him and moved to merge with her own class while Aizawa and Sekijiro talked, complimenting and bragging about both classes and whatnot.

“Jeeze, Kirishima, lighten your gropes a bit, you turn her whole tit purple.” Mina joked, pointing out the purpling splotch on Mao’s breast.

“I didn’t grope her! Don’t say that, Bakug-!” Suddenly a fist connected with the back of his head, knocking him to the ground.

“Stop shouting.” Bakugo grumbled, trying to excuse his sudden abuse.

“That was unnecessary.” Mao huffed, stepping up to him. “He didn’t actually grope me, babe.”

Bakugo scoffed, trying not to blush. “I don’t care about that, he was being loud.”

“Liar, liar.” She reached up to flick his nose.

“Shut up.” He snagged her wrist before her finger could connect.

“You don’t tell me what to do.” She stuck her tongue out.

“You should put that away before you get yourself into trouble, Angel.” He leaned down towards her, still gripping her wrist.

Oh so this nickname is going to become a regular thing? She pressed herself closer. “What are you gonna do if I don’t.”

The two stood, still, literally inches from what they both wanted. And slowly the distance closed. Closer… closer…

“Bakugo, Mao.” Aizawa called making the two leap apart like they burned one another.

He looked over to the blushing students and simply raised an eyebrow at the tears of disappointment ran down half his other student’s faces. “You two will go up against Monoma and Itsuka.” He ordered, completely unaware of the scene that almost unfolded.

Bakugo grumbled before stomping out onto the field, willing the red in his cheeks to disappear. Mao pouted and followed behind him, using her wings to rush over to their side. So, so close to something finally happening, and it was ruined by Aizawa’s impeccable timing. Lovely.

She wouldn’t get the courage to get that close to his lips again for weeks.

“Hello, beautiful, I’m so glad we meet again.” Monoma greeted taking his place.

Mao ignored him and greeted Itsuki. “Is he always like this?”

“He does it to piss people off, which seems to be working. Your boyfriend hasn’t stopped glaring at him since we came over.” Itsuki snickered.

“We’re not dating.” They both informed, instantaneously.

“Oh how fortunate.” Monoma hummed. “Maybe after this we could get lunch together.”

“Alright let’s get this over with.” Mao lazily slipped into her heavenly form, ignoring his invitation. “I’ll handle Copy Cat and you take on Hulk hands.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He scoffed, but nevertheless, listened to her order.

She fired five plain arrows at Monoma while Bakugo rushed Itsuki. Monoma dodged the sharp projectiles, giving the other two room to fight each other. Mao didn’t waste any time drawing back more light arrows and letting them fly at him.

The reason she decided to take Monoma herself was, she could easily fight him at a distance. He couldn’t copy her quirk through her weapons. As long as he didn’t touch her directly, everything was fine.

For several minutes, he dodged her arrows and she stayed in her place, firing. Bakugo and Itsuki threw each other back and forth, barely distracting Mao from her target practice. That is until Bakugo was flung through the dirt and Itsuki went to smash him like a game of wack-a-mole.

He raised his gauntlets to deflect the blow, but really all he’d do was bury himself into the ground. So, forgetting briefly about her own opponent, she put herself in between the massive hand and Bakugo.

“Well, hi. Fancy meeting you here.” Mao grunted as her wings domed over them, hardened.

Bakugo tsked and rolled his eyes. “Fuck off.”

She kicked off into the sky, out of the way of his exploding tornado aimed at Itsuki. As she fluttered, she narrowly avoided another large hand, trying to swat her out of the sky. She glared down at Momona, who smirked and swung his hand at her again.

“You’re already starting to piss me off.” She snapped, firing several arrows into his resized hand. But, aggravatingly, they did virtually nothing. She huffed, unaware of how he even managed to copy his partner’s quirk so she definitely didn’t know when or how long he had left with it.

Realizing she had no real way around the quirk, she bit the bullet and nosed dived at him. Mao soared under his fly swatter hand and snatched him off the ground, only flying him up a few feet before flipping upside down and flying towards the ground. Just before it was too late she released him and took a sharp turn to avoid colliding with the ground herself.

She landed on the ground gracefully, and waited to see if her plan worked. A plan that proved to just be wishful thinking as Momona rolled out of her feathered cocoon. Damn, he was fast.

“Such a nice quirk. Show me more over dinner sometime?” He asked, fluttering her wings.

She rolled her eyes, drawing arrows back. “I’ll go on a date with you if you can tell me my favourite colour. Otherwise, stop asking.”

“Green.” He blocked her arrows, with the copied quirk. “Yellow? Pink?”

“It’s the colour of my eyes, you wannabe bastard!” Bakugo shouted, exploding Monoma’s wing, easily blowing him back several feet. “Now stop flirting with my girlfriend.”

Mao was quick to fly him out of the way of Itsuka’s fist, warmth flooding her face at his words. First, he wasn’t supposed to know her exact favourite colour… yes it was the red of his eyes, but he wasn’t supposed to know that! Second-.

“I thought you two weren’t dating!” Monoma called, teasingly.

“We are now, fuck off!” Bakugo yelled as they floated. “If you want, I mean...”

“You did say my favourite colour, so I guess I owe you a date.” She grinned before spinning him in a circle, building momentum to launch him. “We’ll talk after that.”

Mao released his body and sent him hurtling at Itsuka before dodging another arrow. She dived at Monoma, scooping him up and flying them into the air. He did his best to flap his wings against her, as she carried them up, and it appeared to work when she released him.

He fell a few feet before catching himself, but she was quick to kick him in the chest, forcing him to barrel into the dirt. She waited a moment, counting in her head, his time limit should be up soon. A few more seconds, and she followed him down, ready to punch his lights out.

Monoma was quick to block her fist with her replica wings before slamming one into her, sending her rolling across the field. She groaned at the impact and wheezed as the wind had been knocked out of her.

“It’s past five minutes...” She muttered, before flying up out of the way of Bakugo’s body as Itsuka hit him back, aiming to have the two collide.

“I’ve been working on that, I can manage a little over ten minutes copying a quirk.” Monoma revealed, blocking Bakugo’s explosion aimed at his chest.

Mao scowled and summoned her bow, quickly firing a set of arrows at Itsuka. The two exploded on contact, and sent the large handed girl into the air. Mao rushed towards her, drill diving the girl, much like she did with Kirishima.

Panicking, Itsuka tried to block the impact with her hand, but really it only gave Mao a bigger surface area to slam into, sending her plunging to the ground. She flapped her wings, clearing the dust to find her opponent unconscious, thankfully.

As Mao fluttered in the air, an arrow clipped her cheek. Taking a deep breath she looked over to her quirk copy and glared. In a blink, she switched into her devil form, her wings darkened and looked to have thinned a bit. Her golden marks disappeared on her arms and were replaced with a smokey black colour fading up her forearms. The gold decorations across her neck turned into dusted gray details. Even the pretty blue of her eyes hazled into a sharp green colour.

She smirked, watching him hesitate for a moment, trying to mimic her again. Scoffing, she summoned her demon weapon; chains, and let them hang from her wrists.

“Yeah, this part takes a minute to get down.” She snarled as her chains wrapped around his ankles and she dragged him into the air.

She flew into the air, dragging him straight towards Bakugo. He jumped to grab Momoa and sent an explosion into his chest. The winged fake flew back towards Mao and she easily caught him around the waist with her chains and swung him down into a wall.

“You just don’t stay down do you?” Bakugo huffed, as Monoma pulled himself to his feet.

“I really don’t like it when people copy my shit.” She snarked, slowly descended and drawing her sharpened wings back, threateningly. While her angel wings were as hard as diamonds, her devil wings were sharper than steel.

“I think you just don’t like knowing someone is using it better than you are.” Monoma mocked.

She launched her wings forward, pinning both his to the concrete behind him. To be fair… she didn’t know that would work. She winced at the thought of cutting through her own wings.

“Your arrows explode, if you so desire, right?” He grunted through his pain, summoning his bow.

“Nice to know your memory is working just fine.” She taunted, pulling her wing from one of his, ready to strike his shoulder. “I can also fire multiple- since we’re stating facts everyone here knows.”

“I know.” He smirked. He kicked her in the stomach, freeing himself and his wings and quickly drew ten arrows before at Bakugo, who only stood feet away.

Cursing, she launched herself at him, just as the arrows were released and grabbed his shirt and retreated into the air. Bakugo grunted, startled by the sudden change in level and confused by the massive explosion her copied arrows caused. Even several yards in the air and away from it, they still felt the heat.

“Holy shit…” Bakugo muttered, eyes wide. “Why’ve you never done that before?”

“Because shooting more than like five in one spot is too fucking dangero- ah!” Mao cried out as something wrapped around her wings, pulling them together. The sudden pull of her wings jerked her to a harsh stop and sent Bakugo flying out of her grasp and further up into the air.

Another tug was issued and she heard the damage before she felt it. A loud ugly ripping sound. Something you'd hear in a horror movie when the killer has just thrusted a weapon through an unsuspecting victim chest, trying their best with the overdramatic sound of ripping flesh.

Then she felt it. The white hot pain in her shoulders. She didn't even register that she was plummeting towards the ground until a pair of arms intercepted her descent.

"Fuck..." Bakugo grunted as they rolled along the ground. "Mao, your wings." He stared wide eyed at the sight before them.

"My wings…" Laid on the ground, one an arms length away. Bloody and limp. No longer attached to a host.

Mao stared in shock and her pride and joy. Unmoving and dead in the dirt. She slowly looked up to the culprit, who honestly looked just as shocked as she did. Her wings slowly faded from his back, as time had run out on his copying.

Their eyes locked so intensely, Monoma didn't notice Bakugou's fist smashing into his jaw. Effectively ending the match. With teary eyes, she blinked her gaze back onto her dismembered parts.

"Angel…" Bakugo whispered when she slowly grabbed one of them.

"My wings…" She choked.

Touching them made it all real for her. The pain in her shoulder blades was true, her wings laying on the ground weren't an illusion. They'd really been ripped off.

Mao’s breath seemed to leave her body, even while she gasped for it. Her fingers clenched tightly around the feathers that once kept her warm. A flood of tears fell from her eyes and she was aware of the arms that gently encircled her, trying to ease her pain, but with sight of her feathers in front of her she couldn't be comforted.

It had been two week since Mao lost her wings and she still hadn’t spoken a word since being out on the field. She’d actually fainted moments after the realization of what had happened set in, and after that, the only people she’d actually seen were Recovery Girl and Aizawa. They’d deemed for no visitors, wanting to give her time before dealing with the questions and apologies and just everything she was going to have to manage.

Mao played with a feather she managed to retrieve before her wings were...disposed of. She’d cry but really, she felt drained of tears. Both adults told her to take all the time she needed, but if she stayed in this god damned room any longer she was going to throw herself out the window.

The knock on the door barely made her blink as Aizawa walked it. “How are you feeling to-.”

“Can I go back to the dorms?” Mao huffed, cutting him off.

He stared at her, her voice catching him off guard. “Mao-.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s to make sure I’m okay, because; no, I’m not. And I won't be until I can see my friends. Sleep in my own bed.” Mao said. “So please, let me go home.”

She could see the hesitance in Aizawa’s eyes, but knowing he wasn’t going to win this battle he sighed. “At least have Recovery Girl check your wounds and I’ll walk you back. Okay?”

She nodded, thankful that he didn’t try to put up a fight over it. She waited patiently while he retrieved the healing hero. She tried to wait patiently while she changed her bandages. She absolutely did not wait patiently to throw the dorm door open and run up to the lounge area.

There they were, her friends. The people that could make this loss bearable. Tears sprung to her eyes and she sniffled gaining everyone’s attention. Honestly, she wasn’t sure why it thumped her heart so much to see them, but it felt so good to see them.

“Mao!” Mina yelped, rushing to hug the now wingless girl. “I’m so glad you're okay…”

It was a hesitant hug at first, but once Mao squeezed the girl she was being gripped like she’d disappear. Once Mina released her, most of her class slowly followed suit. They were gentle and careful of where her wings were, and while she was thankful for it she didn’t want them to be so gentle with her… it was weird, she wasn’t used to it.

But nevertheless she enjoyed the soft time with her friends, for the next few hours. Few hours of watching the boys play video games, watch stupid movies they found on television, helping with the random cookies Uraraka decided to bake.

A few of hours of not seeing Bakugo what so ever.

Finally, when it got relatively late Mao stood. "Okay, I'm desperate to sleep in my own bed for once. So I'm going to shower and head to bed."

"Do you need help!" Mina jumped up to volunteer.

"Mina… my wings are gone… not my arms…" Mao raised a brow.

"Yes...but boobies." Mina stated as her reasoning.

Mao rolled her eyes as the rest of the class laughed at them. She took her time to shower, partially enjoying the relaxing warmth and partially trying to wait until everyone went to their rooms. She wasted ten more minutes glaring over her shoulder at the wounds on her empty back.

They glared back hard enough that she actually felt offended.

She slowly crept upstairs, hoping to find it empty and thankfully it was. Give it thirty minutes and everyone should be asleep. She flipped off the light that was left on, probably for her, and went to her own room. Stepping inside, Mao suddenly felt too small in it. All the extra space reminding her of what used to fill it. What she didn't have anymore.

She flopped down on her bed, hissing at the pain of her inflamed shoulder blades. She chuckled dryly. Another thing she could do-lay on her back for once in her life without awkwardly twisting and turning on her wings. Mao gave an honest effort in going to sleep but nearly an hour later, she still laid awake. Staring blankly at her ceiling.

Groaning Mao pulled herself out of the bed and left her screaming confinement of a bedroom. While she believed she was walking aimlessly, she found herself at a door. She cursed when she couldn't stop herself from knocking.

If she ran fast enough she could probably get away before he opened the door-.

"Mao?" A gruff voice greeted her.

"H-hey, uh Boomer boy." Of course she had to go to Bakugo. "Sorry I was just walking around, I couldn't sleep. My room is, like, too loud right now, well it's silent and empty. Which actually feels too loud, if that makes sense. It probably doesn't. Sorry, I'm just rambling. I didn't see you at all earlier, so I just thought I'd say goodnight. So, yeah, goodnight."

Mao spun around, blush burning into her cheeks. What the actual fuck was all of that. Never, ever in her entire friendship with this explosive idiot had she ever lost her shit like that. She grumbled to herself and started to walk away, but a warm hand encircling her wrist stopped her.

"There's blood on your shirt." He pointed out.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, uh." She shrugged. "I took a shower and I couldn't really put new bandages on."

"Fucking idiot." He dragged her inside his room and pushed her towards his bed. "Take your shirt off."

"Oh wow, at least take me out to dinner before trying to get frisky." She tried to joke.

"You need to wrap your wounds properly or they'll get infected and then we have a bigger problem just me letting your wings get torn off." He grumbled, digging through his drawers.

"Wait, what?" Mao froze.

"Your shoulders will get infected." He repeated.

"No, after that, dipshit." She restated. He stiffened and didn't say anything, not that he needed to. She knew what she heard.

"You know this isn't your fault right?" Mao tried after a moment of silence. He stayed silent, but resumed his search.

"Bakugo." More silence.

"Katsuki!" She grabbed his shoulder but he turned around and slapped it away.

"Everyone keeps saying that's it’s not my fault!" He snapped, eyes hard with self blame. "That it could’ve happened to anyone, but… But we're supposed to look out for each other and I…" He stopped.

"And I what?" She glared, stepping closer to him. "And ‘I almost got blown up by arrows that would've done way more damage to me if they had hit me!’"

"But-."

"But nothing! You could have lost your life! My wings for your life?" She bargained. "Yeah, I'll take it."

Bakugo glared down at her, but she glared right back. He sighed and relaxed, and started pushing her to the bed. She smacked his hands away until he grabbed her wrists and headbutted her.

"Quit it!" He grunted.

"Owie." She whined as he pushed her to sit. "I won't take off my shirt until I hear you say it wasn't your fault."

"Shitty bird, being annoying as all hell." He grumbled grabbing the first aid kit from his drawer.

"Ah, flightless shitty bird now." She corrected, cheekily.

He glared at her and sat down next to her. "Yeah, not helping."

"Mmm, yeah, but really if you think about it. It was both our fault for not paying attention." Mao shrugged, tugging her shirt off and turning away from him.

"But, that's okay…" She hummed. "Shit happens, and that is okay."

Bakugo was gentle, pushing her bra straps over her shoulders and pulling off her poorly applied gauze. He winced at the angry lacerations that revealed themselves. He sighed and replaced her bandages correctly, slowly repeating her words in his head.

It was working for the most part but, not entierly. Bakugo leaned his forehead in between her shoulder blades and wrapped his arms around her middle. "I'm sorry."

"Where ya gonna take me on our first date?" She ignored his apology.

"What?" He asked, confused.

"You guessed my favourite colour, which thanks for exposing me like that by the way." She laughed, grabbing his hands.

"I didn't expose shit. You were fucking awful at hiding it. Especially when you and Pinkie giggle about it in class." He huffed squeezing her tightly.

"Yeah, and only she knew! You told the whole class." She laughed.

He gently thumped his forehead on her back, chuckling. "You have shit taste in colours."

"Oh hush, you know you love that I think about your eye colour so indeptly that it's my favourite."

"Yeah, yeah whatever you dumbass bird."

They slipped into comfortable silence and started to clean up. Bakugo tossed her bloody shirt into the trash before pulling off his own and giving it to her. After a bit of fight, she took and slipped it on before turning to leave, but she was halted when he snagged her hand and tugged her down to his bed.

"Bakugo?" Mao asked, falling onto his chest.

"Shut up and go to sleep, it's late." He grumbled.

“Even without my wings…” She whispered. "Can I still be your Angel?"

"It's what you are isn't it?"

#katsuki bakugo #bnha bakugou #deku midoriya #bnha fanfiction #oc #possible muti chap #heaven and hell #quirk

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awkwardbluefish · 4 years

Text

Ominous

Summary: They were just going shopping. Just shopping. How the hell did it end up like this?

A/n: Blood and implied character death

“All I’m saying is that it’s ominous.”

Tim and Cass, the traitors, just share a look. Cass is smiling, lips twitched up in the faint sign of amusement and humour in his expense as Tim shakes his head despairingly.

It’s a hot summer day. Not only that but the sky is actually clear. It’s smelting and Tim has his hair tied back into that little knob of his as Jason has his everyday leather jacket tied around his waist. Cass has her hair pushed back with a cute yellow headband with a bow on the side. Ridiculously cute and misleading.

They’re walking to the bookstore, the one right next to the Gotham Gazette news paper agency. It’s Alfred’s birthday coming up and they all saw the book he was eyeing in the windowsill last week on their way back from grocery shopping.

Jason honestly wonders how he gets through them so fast. He’s only ever seen Alfred read during their book club and they mostly end up talking idly and snacking on pastries. When does that man take the time to read of all things? Jason wants to know his secret please and thank you.

“Jason,” Tim says and Jason wonders if he could get away with throwing a hand at him and telling him to read between the lines. Most probably not, Cassandra wouldn’t hesitate to bend his fingers back. “It’s the middle of summer, just because the sun is out doesn’t mean it’s ominous.”

Has he learnt nothing about this city? This city doesn’t do bright and happy, this city isn’t sunshines and lollipops and bright white clouds and smiling suns. The only rainbows and sparkles in this city is the shit coming from Dick’s ass.

Cass suddenly raises a brow, smile brightening subtly as Jason blanches and coughs. Tim gives them an unimpressed look.

“It’s Gotham Tim. The sunshine doesn’t come out and play. It ain’t no naive kids drawing that’s for sure.” He says solemnly and Tim stares at him.

“Oh my god,” he says. “Why are you so dramatic. It is not that bad Jay!”

Jason would like to refute that and that’s exactly what he does. “It is though. It’s raining for six months and snowing the other three. Happiness doesn’t happen here.”

Tim begins to speak before blinking and shutting his mouth. A thoughtful expression crosses his face and Cass giggles and oh shit, he’s been caught now.

“Did you just quote ‘How to train your dragon?’” He asks, completely bowled over.

Jason does not flush in embarrassment and he doesn’t not start fast walking. Tim and Cass just got a bit slow all of a sudden. Yeah that’s it.

“What the hell ya’ talking about? I was sleeping during the so called movie night.” He replies quickly and he knows he’s doomed for when Cass does that smile and Tim raises a brow.

“Did,” Cass calls him out, looping an arm around his elbow and dragging him back in between the two. “Cried.”

Tim lets out an snort and Jason huffs, dragging his feet against the pavement to sulk before Tim and Cass heave his ass forward. His said fat ass blocking everyone else’s way. Rude.

“I don’t blame you though,” Tim says shrugging, squeezing into his side as a big hairy man rushes past. “I think I even saw Damian shed a tear.”

“Did,” Cass tells them again, bicep threatening to cut his arm off as he lets out a suppressed cackle that quickly turns into an ouchie. He winches and Cass just pats his shoulder in a small amount of mercy. “Dick too.”

Jason actually does snort and he pretends he didn’t just feel snot leave his nose. Not on his face, not his problem. “That doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

A chuckle escapes from Tim as he shakes his head. “It’s a good movie. I think it’s an unsaid agreement that we’re watching the other two the next movie night.”

“Two movies? Alfred must’ve enjoyed it too then.” Jason says and lets the two turn him down another street. Okay so maybe he ended up in Metropolis once. No need to hold it over his head okay!

“Did,” Cass tells them, a small smile on her face.

Jason turns his head to stare at her. “Woman how do you do that? I know you can read us like we came with an instructional manual or somethin’ but Alfie? That’s impossible!”

“No it’s not,” Tim says this time and Jason decidedly ignores him. He doesn’t like the subtle indication in that sentence. Nope, not happening.

“Secret,” is all Cass says and that’s really not helpful to his situation. Her smile says it all. Well damn them then.

“You’re bullying me, stop bullying me. I’m leaving you.” He says and then he’s sliding from their hold and fast walking to the crossing ahead of him.

He can hear Tim’s amused snort and basically feel Cass’ amusement radiating of her but he’s making a point dammit so when the walking sign flashes green he’s striding across the road quickly.

Dogs nip at feet and toes are squashed but that is completely normal so everyone just pushes through. Literally. It’s shoulder shoving and half assed apologies until Jason is standing victorious on the other side of the street. Take that, looser!

A pinch on his fleshy parts make him yelp and he jumps, if ignoring the raised brows the amused looks from random strangers passing by. Cass simply gives him a smile and Jason blinks.

“What the heck?” He says incredulously.

“Secret,” she says again before they turn their attention back to the crossing.

They make eye contact with Tim and he rolls his eyes at them, halfway down the street and amused. The light is still flashing green and other people sprint across the crossing quickly.

“You’re as slow as a grandma!” Jason’s shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Hurry your ass up!”

Tim rolls his eyes. “I’m surprised whose talking with all that ass you have to carry you dweeb!”

“Fuck you!” Jason responds wisely. “Besides I didn’t quote the movie I just switched it up a bit!”

Tim opens his mouth and Jason is yelling then screaming, eyes snapping open and wide.

Pedestrians give him scowls and cover their children’s ears but Jason doesn’t give a fuck, his heart is in his throat and it’s hammering to an unsung song. Hes surprised he’s still standing. His legs feel weak.

A blue forward car is tearing through the street, crashing into other cars. It’s heading right for Tim and Jason logically knows there isn’t any time to move but fuck logic he say as he screams for Tim to just move.

Cass is running and stumbling before the car even makes impact.

There’s screams, a honk of a horn and the horrifying sound of crunching fills the air. The car makes impact and all Jason can hear is the thump of a body as glass from a window shatters and cracks.

Tim’s eyes lock with his and they’re wide, pained and then they’re rolling into the back of his head as his body rolls atop of the car. His body hits the boiling bitumen and Jason cries out at the cracks that fill the air.

It’s silent and then someone’s screaming to call an ambulance as the blue forward drive speeds off. People are surrounding his little brother and Cass is sliding to his side and her knees are bleeding but she’s cradling his bloodied face in her hands as she leans over him.

Jason can’t focus. He’s being pushed passed. He can’t stop seeing his brothers body flying, crashing into the car and slamming into the road. His arms are twisted and broken in multiple spots and legs should never look like that. Bike tickles the back of his throat.

Cass is slapping his face and then she’s crying. Jason doesn’t know if he’s screaming or if it’s her but someone is pulling her away as she thrashes and cries against them.

The tears are streaming as she makes eye contact with Jason as she’s cradled in another woman’s arms. She’s not fighting anymore. Defeated. She sobs and shakes her head and Jason feels like he’s being plunged into the icy ocean of Antartica.

He can’t move, not now when she’s shaken her head. He can’t move because Tim isn’t moving.

Why isn’t he fuckin’ moving?

#tim drake #jason todd #cassandra cain #dc #batsiblings #blood #death #my writing #mine

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miafic · 4 years

Note

zakk taking lucas to his first pride parade🥺

lucas is anxious. he doesn’t want to go, and zakk knows this, but zakk also REALLY wants to go, and there’s no way lucas is letting him go alone. if something bad is going to happen, lucas needs to be there. zakk is too sweet, and sometimes - like it or not - he really does need protecting. so, grudgingly, lucas agrees to come along.

he refuses to wear anything but his normal clothes. zakk, on the other hand, has a bi flag painted on one cheek and a rainbow painted on the other, both slathered in glitter. he’s got a black tank top on that says PROUD in a rainbow of letters, his hair pulled back in a ponytail, and his entire body sprayed with more glitter. he comes out of the bathroom and does a spin. “how do i look?”

lucas nods slowly. you look like you’re asking to get attacked, he thinks, but what he says is, “nice.”

zakk sighs and goes over to sit on lucas’ lap. he draws lucas’ chin up so that their eyes meet. “nothing is going to happen,” he promises.

“i don’t want you to get hurt,” lucas pleads.

“we won’t.”

“you. i’m not worried about myself. you’re… you’re like a billboard.” lucas feels like crying. it’s not often that he finds himself frightened, but this is next level. and zakk is walking right into this like it’s something fun.

“lucas, it’s gonna be fun,” zakk says, and lucas throws his hands into the air out of exasperation.

zakk stands up. “if you’re gonna be like this, you should stay home. i love you, and i know that you mean well, but i’m going today because i want to have fun.” he gives lucas a pointed look and then starts out of the room. “it’s a parade. it’s a celebration. no sourpusses allowed.”

“i’m not trying to get you down,” lucas insists as he follows. “you really do look great. if we were staying home, this would be fine, but we’re not. and i just really think that you shouldn’t go, because you never know wh-”

“i’m going,” he says emotionlessly from halfway down the staircase, and the next thing lucas knows, zakk is turning around, a very upset look on his face. “you married me,” he states, “and you weren’t scared then.”

“we knew who was coming to the wedding.”

“yeah, but you can never really know how everyone feels about our relationship. and i - i know that i can’t change your mind, but i just want you to know that you’re really hurting me right now.” he walks down the rest of the stairs with his shoulders drooping.

lucas squeezes his eyes shut. “zakk, wait…”

“if you come, you won’t even want to walk beside me,” zakk snaps from the kitchen, “so don’t bother.”

that makes lucas’ stomach turn icy with a mix of negative emotions. he jogs after zakk and stops him by the door. “listen to me, please. this isn’t about me not - not wanting people to know that i’m…” gay, he should fill in, maybe - he isn’t really sure - but what he says is, “with you. it’s that i’m worried that something bad will happen-”

“pride’s not for everyone,” zakk says, smiling sadly as he shrugs one shoulder and opens the door to the garage.

“zakk, please!” lucas repeats. “it’s n- i love you, okay?”

zakk whispers, “i know.”

“and i don’t care if people know that; i just-”

“then why are you freaking out?”

“-don’t know if this is the best environment. you know this kind of thing attracts, like, the westboro baptist church and people like them…” thinking about zakk standing in front of a GOD HATES FAGS sign cleaves his heart in two. god could never hate zakk, not for anything.

“if we see them, we just say fuck ‘em, and we keep walking.”

“what if…”

zakk shakes his head. “lucas, i have to go. are you coming or not?”

—

lucas’ hand won’t stop twitching. he’s torn between reaching out and grabbing zakk’s fingers and trying to protect him by keeping a few feet away so can be a better lookout.

a second icy chill takes hold of his stomach as he realizes that zakk was right - lucas doesn’t want to walk beside him.

but it’s not because he doesn’t love him; it’s because he does. lucas loves zakk more than he’s ever loved anyone or anything. if zakk died, lucas wouldn’t survive it. and it’s with that thought that lucas quickly reaches forward and catches zakk’s hand, pulling him back several inches so that they’re side by side.

zakk smiles. lucas forces himself not to lean away when zakk stretches up on his toes to kiss lucas’ cheek. lucas wants to cry again. if someone hurts zakk, lucas will fucking kill them. and if this this damn pride parade is how lucas and zakk die, lucas is going to kick god’s ass.

“look,” zakk says happily, and there’s a group of trans women with boas up ahead, all dancing around a boombox. “see? it’s fun.”

lucas scans the area, suddenly worried that someone is going to hurt the women.

“lucas. get a grip, okay?”

lucas stops walking. his voice wobbles as he says desperately, “i - i can’t let you do this, zakk, i’m sorry-”

he expects that zakk wil be mad at him or tell him to order an uber and go home. but zakk takes one look into lucas’ teary eyes and reaches up to touch his face.

“i’m sorry,” lucas repeats, pulling back out of his reach, “but this is too dangerous, and i can’t - we can’t…”

zakk is nodding.

“i just love you so much, zakk, and i don’t want you to get hurt. i don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“come here,” zakk murmurs, and he takes lucas’ hand and drags him over to the women.

one of them notices them and walks toward them, a big smile on her face. “hi!”

“hey,” zakk says warmly. lucas is busy drying his eyes. “have you been to pride before?”

“of course! is this your first time?”

“it’s his,” zakk responds, and he glances at lucas, who is staring down at the ground and wiping his cheeks with his sleeve. “this is my husband. he’s never been off work to come with me.”

“why are you crying?” she asks, concern clear in her eyes.

“crying?!” someone else says, and suddenly, multiple people from nearby groups are coming over to see lucas. he forces himself to look up, and all sorts of people are looking at him, and he’s looking back at them, and he has no idea how to reply.

“he’s nervous,” zakk answers quietly. “he thinks i’m gonna get hurt.”

“oh, no, no,” a man says, coming forward and touching lucas’ arm. “honey, it’s safe. don’t you worry. and if anything happens, i promise you, you’re gonna have the whole parade jumping on the aggressor, okay?”

lucas has to smile a little at that.

“they wouldn’t organize this and put it on if they thought it would be dangerous,” one of the trans women assures him, and several people nod. “yeah, there will be protestors, but there are way more of us here than there are of them.”

there’s a laugh from the gaggle of people, and lucas honestly feels a little relieved. suddenly, something is touching him, and before he can stop it, someone young has placed a rainbow feather boa around his neck. “there,” they say with a smile. “now you can wear something special, too.”

“thank you,” zakk tells them with a smile, and they nod. he takes lucas’ hand, and they start away toward the music and the colorful balloons.

as soon as they round the corner, lucas takes the boa off and sets it on zakk’s shoulders.

“aw, you looked cute,” zakk laughs, but he doesn’t fight lucas on it. he winds their fingers together, lightly swinging their hands as they travel.

“do they have food?” lucas mutters.

“tons! what do you want? are we looking for caramel corn?”

lucas nods.

“okay. i’ll keep an eye out.”

a group of nearly-naked bears walks by, and lucas stumbles in surprise, but one of them sees lucas and zakk’s clasped hands and smiles. lucas shyly smiles back.

“see?” zakk says happily. “it’s not scary.”

“yeah, there are cops everywhere,” lucas acknowledges.

“uh-huh!”

some of police are even wearing beaded necklaces. maybe someone was handing them out. “okay,” lucas exhales.

“come on. let’s get you a snack and then pick a good spot.”

“somewhere with shade.”

“we can try!”

—

two hours later, the heat is finally easing up a little, and lucas has grown comfortable. he has a mostly-drunk root beer on his knee, a couple flowers in his hair, and zakk at his side.

everything is fine; they’re watching a group of a&m students in tie-dye t-shirts walk down the street and chant something that lucas can’t really understand. it takes a second, but he realizes that the reason he can’t understand the words is because there’s more noise coming from behind him.

“-sinners! repent and you shall be saved!”

zakk looks at lucas and rolls his eyes.

but then someone else starts to shout. “aren’t you disgusted with yourselves? pride is a sin! and here you all are, being prideful about something so ungodly, so blasphemous, so disgusting-”

lucas’ fingers dig into zakk’s thigh, and zakk squeezes his hand. “just ignore them. they’re not gonna do anything but yell.”

“god is going to damn every last one of you to hell if you don’t change your ways!”

“that’s not the god i know,” lucas mutters. “they’re the blasphemous ones.”

zakk smiles. “i am so in love with you,” he murmurs, and he lays his head on lucas’ shoulder.

the first voice returns. “look at this crowd! dressed from head to toe in rainbows. what a disgrace. look at all this sin.”

lucas turns around, studies the three protestors with their rude signs, and cooly calls, “hey, have you guys read john 8?”

“lucas!” zakk hisses, but he’s laughing.

“no, i’m serious,” lucas says to him. “i wanna know if they’ve actually read the bible.”

“yeah, we know john 8,” one of them responds, and he comes right over.

lucas instinctively angles himself in front of zakk before wondering, “assuming that all this-” he says, motioning to the parade “-is a sin, which it isn’t, how do you justify what you’re doing right now, then?”

“we’re trying to let people know what they’re doing is wrong.”

“and what gives you the right to tell them that?”

“well, it’s sodomy, first off,” he explains, pointedly looking down at lucas’ wedding ring and then looking at zakk. “is this your husband?”

lucas isn’t planning to answer, but zakk leans around lucas to affirm, “yes.”

“so, sodomy, right there. you know where that word comes from? sodom. do you know sodom?”

lucas sighs. “i know sodom. but that’s not what i asked.” he repeats, “how do you justify what you’re doing right now?”

“we’re spreading god’s word.”

“no, you’re not,” lucas counters, laughing a little. “god’s word is love. you’re only spreading hatred. how do you think jesus would-”

“okay, come on,” zakk mutters, and before lucas can finish his sentence, zakk is pulling him away.

“i could’ve taken him!” lucas exclaims, and zakk nods.

“i know. that’s why we had to leave. you spend all day worrying about a fight, and then you’re the one who’s about to get into one.”

“but i-”

“let’s be real; neither of you were going to change each other’s minds.”

lucas heaves a sigh. “i guess.”

“i don’t want to leave, but i think we should start heading back toward the car.”

“oka-” lucas stops and splutters as a wave of pink glitter starts raining down. he looks up, and glitter is still falling all around him. zakk hardly gets hit with any. lucas, on the other hand…

lucas whirls around, and there are people dancing down the street, tossing handfuls of glitter all over the place. everyone’s paying attention, so they have time to move forward and embrace it or dart away like lucas would have if he’d realized what was happening.

gleefully, zakk snaps a photo on his phone of lucas, who is scowling and covered from head to toe in pink sparkles.

“you owe me a cotton candy for this,” lucas grumbles as zakk brushes the glitter away from his face.

“do you want a pink one to match your new outfit?” zakk laughs.

lucas just rolls his eyes. as they walk toward a cotton candy vendor, lucas takes zakk’s hand without thinking about it. “the car’s gonna be a mess until the end of time, but… thanks for bringing me here,” he says quietly. “i had fun.”

zakk turns to him, smiling. he glances between their arms at the trail of glitter that lucas is leaving behind and then says, “i had fun, too. i love you.”

lucas stops walking and kisses him on the lips right there in front of the whole world.

and no one says a word.

#this has been in my drafts forever but i finally finished it!!!!!#lucas #zakk #sun and moon #au #anon #ask Aly

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