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reiderwriter · 29 days

Note

hii I absolutely love your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a one shot with gun kink? maybe not really something *aggressive* but just gun kink in the plot !! and please smut with no angst, also maybe aftercare in the end? it's totally okay if you're not comfortable. im loving your kinktober one shots! have a good day :)

A/N: This being one of like... three gun kink requests I've received, we are all not seeing the pearly gates lmao. If you enjoy reading this, even 50% of how much I enjoyed writing it, then I'm happy 😚

Warnings: Undercover FBI Agent reader, gun kink, interrogation room sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, some BDSM themes, Spencer has to 'rough up' the reader etc.

Masterlist

Being rough-housed by a group of FBI agents and pushed against a wall before being handcuffed was never your idea of a fun Tuesday night. It wasn't exactly high on the list for any night of the week, really, but here you were.

“Caitlyn Grant? You're under arrest for being an accessory to a felony and evading law enforcement, whatever you say…” You drowned out the rest of the statement. It was nothing you didn't have memorized.

“You're not the usual drug crew, and you don't look sturdy enough to be on most of the other teams either. What part of the Bureau are you in?” You asked the lanky man currently pinning you to the wall as he made sure your handcuffs were aptly tight.

“You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one-”

“I waive my rights. It's not human trafficking. You wouldn't be working this case if you were human trafficking.”

The man just stared at you in vague disapproval as you grinned back at him. His closeness meant you could see every detail of his face up close, the five o'clock shadow, the dark circles from lack of sleep. On most of the agents you'd encountered, it had the effect of making them look older, a little haggard, and depressed. On this man, it was honestly very hot.

He started your pat down by spreading your legs, though honestly, if he'd asked nicely enough, you'd have done just that for him. You near enough told him just that as he reached the two pockets on the ass of your jeans.

“Watch it, Agent, my bite is worse than my bark.”

“Turn around.”

You pouted at his solid resolve, wondering what it would take to get the man to crack a smile or even a frown. Something that wasn't just disinterest slapped on a face and called a day.

You did as he asked, making sure your body pressed nicely up against his the entire way until your shoulders were resting on the wall and he was feeling along your waist.

“Come on, what kind of weapon are you going to find there?”

“Standard protocol, please let me do my job.”

“Standard protocol is calling one of your female agents over here to maintain the boundary, Agent. This feels more like you're just trying to cop a feel.”

Those words finally got a reaction. The subtle clench of the jaw as his hands tightened slightly on your waist had you suddenly regretting your decision to be put in handcuffs. Your hands should've been free to tuck the stray lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes behind his ear, free so your fingernails could trace a path down his face and neck and chest.

His gaze landed on the simple silver chain you wore around your list and he delicately pulled it out of your shirt, careful not to touch you (and avoiding you even as you arched your back into him).

With a quick tug, he pulled the necklace clean off your neck, not pausing to bother with the clasp at all.

“Clever boy. I'll see you in the interrogation room, shall I?” He said nothing as the female agents you'd mentioned earlier stationed themselves on either side of you as you walked away. You didn't break eye contact until the doors to the police van closed behind you.

Six months undercover on a case, and this was the first time you'd stepped foot in a police precinct since you'd ditched your real name and life.

The interrogation rooms hadn't changed in that time, at least, still grey and depressing. Time felt void as you waited for company, and thankfully, you weren't waiting long.

“Agent Y/N, sorry about the arrest, we wanted to make it look as real as possible while pulling you out.” The woman who greeted you obviously held the authority, and while you wanted to respect that, the sight of the man trailing behind her actually caught her full attention.

“Pleasure to meet you….?” You let the question hang open for both of them but kept your gaze fully focused on the man, who stood himself next to the door, keeping surprisingly quiet.

“I'm Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, we're from the-”

“Behavioural Analysis Unit, of course. I was close, you know, earlier. A face like yours wouldn't last five minutes in cartel land. I almost guessed cyber, but you looked a bit too bookish. Doctor Reid, hmm.”

“This interview is taking place with Agent Prentiss. Please direct all your questions to her.”

“Oh shit, sorry, where are my manners. I didn't mean to disrespect you like that, Agent Prentiss. It's just been a long few months.”

The other woman just chuckled and shook her head, leafing through some documents to pass you over the information on the case they needed assistance on.

“We think there's a serial killer in the drug ring you infiltrated,” the woman explained, passing over the files with the case details. You took a moment's breath before opening to the crime scene photos, steeling yourself for what you might encounter.

“There are probably a lot of serials in the organization. It's a drug ring. What makes this one worse?” You said, just as you flipped the file open and answered your own question.

“Shit- Okay, that's what makes this one worse. He can't be more than 15, right?”

The answering grimace on the two agents' faces suggested you'd been generous in your estimate. “Okay, how can I help?”

xxxxx

A few hours passed in the interrogation room, and you'd walked them through all of your up to date information on your case and cover. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were glad to be finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The interview was ending, and you could see an end to your undercover work swiftly following too with the BAU's assistance.

You weren't looking forward to having to acclimatize back into the real world. You'd gone from pushing papers at a desk 9 hours a day to rubbing shoulders with drug dealers and junkies, a lot of whom were kids, young people like you who had no other options than the streets and crime.

You made a mental note to give a few warnings to the younger kids on the streets to stay alert and then started getting back into character.

“Thanks again for your help, Agent. We appreciate your time.” Prentiss nodded at you as she gathered the folders, getting ready to leave.

Spencer Reid stood, too, stretching himself out as he rose from the chair, giving you quite the show as your eyes dragged from his face, down his chest and down further still as you appreciated the view.

The last few hours had been strictly professional, and you'd enjoyed bouncing ideas off of him, running through theories. Now, trying to get back into your ‘lusty barmaid’ persona, you thought instead about how much you'd like to bounce on him yourself, possibly while running your hands through his hair.

A girl could dream.

“Hold on a second, I'm still in cover, I can't go back out there looking this pristine, it's too suspicious,” you said, the two agents turning back to you curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“Someone needs to throw me around a little. Rough housing, you know, a few bruises will do it.”

Prentiss looked at you, caught halfway between impressed and amused. The good Doctor however seemed to darken slightly, covering his shock with a tensed jaw.

“She's all yours, Spencer,” Wmily winked at the man, turning the door handle and beginning her exit.

“What? Why?”

“I don't hit women.”

“And I do? Emily, wha-”

But the door to the interrogation room has already closed with a small cackle, and you're already being drawn closer to the man like a moth to a flame.

Turning to face you, you see the shock of the situation on his face before he looks away in a flash, refusing to meet your eyes as he keeps himself close to the door.

“Doctor Reid, I'm not actually a criminal, you know?”

“I thought you wanted one of us to treat you like a criminal now.”

“You make a good point, shall we begin?”

He signed and rubbed his temples as you advanced, letting you get a little bit closer before holding his hands up in surrender.

“Wait, wait, tell me first, what should we be doing?”

You took a deep breath and expelled it, then took the time to think about it.

You would need some visible marks of the FBI's unkindness - wrists red, a bruise or two on your knees, maybe, from falling. The problem was, you couldn't think about how to get the marks without driving yourself insane.

There was a quick and easy way to get tender knees, an even easier way to mark up your neck and chest, but you couldn't figure out how to ask Spencer Reid to do those things without spreading your legs and letting him do whatever he wanted. You weren't sure you wouldn't do that eventually, anyway.

“Let's start with my wrists. You were too generous with the handcuffs earlier - just grab them really tight, pin me against the wall if it helps.”

He nodded and took a hesitant step towards you, thinking for a second, before grabbing one wrist and spinning you around. Before you could even process the action, he had you pinned, chest against the wall, arms above your head.

“Is that okay?” He asked, his grip tight but not bruising yet.

“A little tighter, I want the marks to last a while. Why is my face against the wall?”

He gripped tighter, the pain sending a jolt through your wrists that trailed all the way down to pool between your thighs.

“I thought you'd be less uncomfortable like this.”

“With your dick pushed up against my ass? Yes, Doctor, great decision.”

He let out a cold, quick laugh, leaving you flushed as he pushed your upper body into the wall, too, finally getting to the grip strength he needed to get attention.

“I'm sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but that's my gun,” the words whispered in your ear were the last straw as you shuddered in his grasp, his hands releasing your wrists as he stepped back a little.

You shook out your hands a little, trying to momentarily relive the stiffness in your joints.

He took a few paces to the desk and upholstered his weapon, placing it on the desk before joining you again.

“So you don't get confused again,” he explained at seeing your raised eyebrow.

“Oh so next time, it will be your dick?” You whispered, moving back to the desk and sitting yourself on the edge or it, picking up the gun and studying it for a few minutes.

“Y/N, put it down.”

“Ooh, possessive, are we?” You giggled, aiming it at him for a second before grabbing it by the barrel and holding it back out for him to grab.

“Hold it, point it at me or whatever. Maybe it'll help you rough me up.”

His brow furrowed, but he grabbed it anyway, not immediately slipping it into the holster as he stepped forward.

“What now?” He asked, and you shrugged.

“Whatever feels natural. And looks visible, I guess.”

It took him a few minutes to decide, surveying your body like it was a puzzle. Professionally, of course. You were about to speak up and urge him to get on with it when his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat.

You tried to gasp, but the grip was firm, and boy, was it driving you crazy. Your legs had naturally parted as you sat yourself on the edge of the desk, and he walked into that space now, his free hand still holding the gun.

Your body pushed forward into his, suddenly awash with arousal as your chest heaved with tiny breaths, lungs burning.

“Are you enjoying this, Y/N? Or is it Caitlyn Grant that's enjoying this?”

You felt the gun touch your thigh gently, and you moaned, just as he softened his grip on your throat.

“Answer me, please. This is an interrogation room, after all.”

You met his eyes, checking to see how far he would take this, how far you could push back.

“I'll admit, I'm not against mixing pain and pleasure.”

His gaze flicked down, slowly pushing his gun up the skin of your thigh, raising your skirt with the barrel to catch a quick glimpse of your panties.

“I can tell.”

If it weren't for his grip on you, you'd have lunged for him right then and there. The cool metal against your thigh had you shuddering against him, growing wetter by the minute.

“I read somewhere once that we can't pretend to be someone else without actually becoming them in some small way. You've been a cartel whore for six months, I wonder if this is a lasting effect.”

He was so close now all he needed to do to close the gap was change the angle of his head, but he kept you in place with that gun, pointing up from your pussy, flush against your stomach.

“I'll tell you a secret - the part of me that's aroused right now definitely predates this cover.”

His lips drop to yours, tongue clashing with yours furiously as he grabs the back of your head to angle you better.

Letting his hand drop back to your thigh, he gently coaxed you further open, skirt riding up. Putting down the gym momentarily, he pressed a wandering finger against your pantie-clad pussy, feeling your arousal before he used it to coat his fingers.

A second later and the offending pair of underwear lay discarded on the floor.

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, gasping for breath as he again picked up the gun.

“You wanted this so badly, didn't you? You've been needing someone to treat you like this for months now. It didn't even have to be me.”

He traced circles on your thigh with the gun, and you twitched, years of training not letting you relax around the weapon and months of sexual frustration, making you desperate for something to touch you.

“Yes, yes, please touch me.”

The hand at your throat slid down to your chest and pushed gently urging you to lie back and let him do whatever he wanted with you. The desk was cold - metal biting at your bare skin - and it only sent more shivers down your spine as he lowered himself to his knees and parted your legs for his tongue.

The first touch was heaven, a state of bliss you'd been without in what felt like forever. His tongue danced across your folds as he tasted every inch of your exposed cunt, grip still strong on the gun pointed now to your chest, pinning you between the machine and the table.

You tried to be as still as possible, to take the pleasure he gave calmly, but you couldn't. You writhed, moaned, chest heaving as you tried to hold off the first orgasm you'd achieved with someone else in probably a year.

Like a man on a mission, Spencer Reid did not care. He gladly suffocated between your thighs as you squeezed them together, wrapping them around his head so you could keep feeling the insurmountable pleasure of his tongue on your pussy.

“Spencer…Spencer, fuck-” you said as he finally pried your legs apart, lifting them just slightly so his tongue could reach further inside of you, curling with each wave of passion. Your hands fisted his hair, desperate for something to ground you to the moment as your pleasure spilt out of you, orgasm jolting through you in tiny sparks of pleasure.

The gun moved first, coming level with your chest as you untangled your fingers from his hair. Spencer stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he kept the gun on you.

“I think this turns you on even more. You've been ruined by this cover, Y/N, you're so used to being in danger that you can't even get off without someone threatening you.”

You attempted to scoff, to brush off his words somehow, but his hand was suddenly back around your throat, picking you up off the desk and pulling you instead towards the room's one-way window.

“Look at yourself,” he said, again twisting you around so you were pressed into the wall, wrists above your hair, raising your shirt to expose the cold skin underneath. He ran the barrel across the fresh skin, leaving a field of goosebumps along his path.

“I don't think it would've mattered who came in to rough you up. I think you'd just as happily have convinced Emily to fuck your little pussy raw, right Y/N? As long as there was a gun…”

Your moan was the only response as he used the weapon to spread your legs. You naturally arched your back and kept your hands in place as he holstered the weapon momentarily to unzip his pants and let his cock free.

You couldn't see it, but you saw his reflection in the mirror as he slowly stretched you out with it, mouth dropping in a lustful ‘o’ as he fed his dick to you, hard and thick.

As soon as it was in, the gun came back out, this time to rest against your temple.

“Get yourself off,” his voice was so low it was practically a growl. “Use my cock, and pleasure yourself.”

Your body listened immediately, beginning to move back and forth on his cock as he held himself in place. His moans and groans were all the encouragements you needed, the gun at your temple was just made the pleasure more profound as you approached your release.

But he kept you pinned to the glass, your full range of motion limited, and you whimpered in frustration that you couldn't feel every inch of him.

“If you need something, use your words, Agent.”

“More, need more, please..please,” you gasped, breathing ragged.

The hands at your wrists released, and he fisted a hand into the flesh at your hip, your wrists resting on the glass next to your face as he took over your thrusting.

“Can't even do this anymore, what a spoiled little whore,” he said as his hips began snapping into you, reaching that spot deep inside you as you drooled against the glass, wondering if anyone had just happened to step into that room and what they must think about you.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my cock,” he said it, and entranced, your body did just that, your orgasm taking the last breath of strength you had as he too plunged himself deeper and stilled there, his cum coating your walls.

Neither of you moved for an eternity, but the first sign of clarity returning was the careful return of the gun to the holster.

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Spencer minimized the mess you made together, cleaning you up as he slipped out of you. Discarding it momentarily on the floor, he pulled your clothes back into position and led you back over to the chairs. Just as he moved to sit you down, though, you turned and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug.

His arms hung suspended for a minute or two before he let them rest on your back, stroking your hair.

“Sorry, it's been… it's been lonely, and I didn't realize how hard it had been until-”

“It's okay. Take your time,” he said, sitting down in the chair and letting you curl up in his lap, burying your head in his neck

“We’ll catch this guy, and then you're out, okay Y/N? We'll come back and get you out soon.”

Lifting your eyes to his, you nodded, pressing your lips to his with a smile as you again worked yourself back into character, regaining your earlier composure and lifting yourself from the man's too comfortable arms.

“Well, Spencer, what do you say we get me back into panties and handcuffs and cut Caitlyn Grant loose?”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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awakenedevildays · 9 days

Text

"you should move in with me" Art's voice echoes off the bathroom walls, it's all so relaxing: the heat of the water around your bodies, his chest pressed against your back and his arms wrapped around you are so comfortable that it takes a while for you to realize what he just said.

"what?"

"you heard me" he murmurs against your neck "come live with me" an incredulous laugh leaves your mouth and you try to turn completely towards him, but his arms clench tighter around you and prevent you from moving enough to do so.

"may I ask why you are asking this now?" you move slightly to the side to see his face emerging from the hollow of your neck.

"I feel like we're ready to do it" his eyes avoid yours and focus instead on his fingers as they start caressing your shoulder "and it's also the next logical step in our relationship."

"You think so?" this time, despite Art's protests, you turn towards him: your breasts press against the boy's chest and his eyes fall down quickly before being brought back to yours by the hand under his chin. The tease is evident on your face and Art feels his ears warm up quickly to the realization of being caught in the act.

"I know so" and kisses the smile off your lips to distract you.

"My answer is not a no, but how do we know that our relationship is ready for this?" you ask him and, without realizing it, the agitation inside you rises: how did you know if you were ready for this step? and if you break up because you went too fast?

The tennis player frowns "what do you mean?" and the sight in front of you distracts you for a second: Art sits back against the back of the tub to stand more upright and listen to you better, his arms, after moving his curly damp hair out of his face, leans on the edges of the tub, his wet and smooth chest shines and his legs are open and bent to the sides to give you more space between them. If you weren't so determined to finish the topic you were having, you'd kiss him to death, but you're a woman on a mission and you can't get distracted.

"I mean, some of my behaviors might irritate you or we might fight about serious things and then we wouldn't be able to run away from our problems by going back to our apartment, we'd have to deal with these situations and be mature about what bothers us and-"

"love, you're getting worked up over nothing" he says and his expression relaxes into a smile: now that he understood that your reasons are motivated only by insecurity and not by the fact that you don't want to take the next step with him, he feels it will be easier to convince you otherwise.

"You see? this is exactly what I'm talking about! if we move in together we can't belittle each other's feelings and concerns like this. It wouldn't be healthy and-"

"love," he interrupts you again, and your hands that were gesturing in the air fall on his chest, your eyes avoid his.

Out of your mouth comes a small "…yes?" that makes the man in front of you chuckle.

"we're ready" his calm tone makes its way into your chest "we're 24 years old and we've been together since we were 19, we both have a steady job and we already know everything about each other, there's nothing you can tell me that will change my mind".

"what if we fight?"

"I can't promise you we won't fight, we fight even now that we don't live together, but it seems to me that we are pretty good at making up, if we fight we will solve it as always" it's true, you never went beyond a day without talking to each other, even if you were angry.

"what if we break up?"

"It won't happen," he answers immediately, his fingers move the locks of hair behind your ears and then rest his hands on your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks.

His head lowers to chain your eyes together and you look up to facilitate his task "I won't let it happen", the security in his eyes makes you exhale a breath you didn't know you were holding.

Your eyes move around to look at the bathroom, "but I wouldn't be able to pay half the rent of this apartment"

"I don't care about that".

"but-"

"If you really want to pay something, we can split the bills," he answers hastily, at the moment Art doesn't care about how to split the expenses, he would pay everything if it meant he could spend the rest of his life next to you… he just needs your 'yes'.

Your face gets close to his, your lips a few inches away.

"okay" his eyes still fixed in yours

"'ok' what?" his smile gets brighter, he wants to hear you say it.

"I'll move in with you" you smile too.

"that's what I like to ear" he kisses you again.

Now he only had to ask you to marry him… but that will have to wait a little longer.

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

Hope you guys will like it as much as I liked writing it! 🩷

(in this fic he still has long hair cause I said so)

#long-haired art dondalson supremacy #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson #challengers fic #challengers #tashi doesn't exist here... again lol

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Text

its time for the girls to admit that Armin is not some sweet and innocent little angel. that man is most certainly a demon when you get him out of his shell..like he is NASTYYYY 😫

themes: rough sex, aggressive and degrading armin, choking, spit play, bulging, unprotected sex, throat fucking, daddy’s used like twice, pet names (and name calling) him being a sadist and an asshole, along with some other shit

he’s been your friend for years and granted, for a long time, that’s all you saw him as. Quiet, sweet, reliable Armin..who never made too much of a fuss about anything. He was the shy one, the timid boy who didn’t like trouble (which was much more than what could be said of his other buddies.) honestly, you preferred it though.

but it’s one night, when the two of you are quietly studying that it all changes and things get very intense..very quickly!

one minute, the two of you are nose deep in your textbooks and the next, he’s balls deep in you, trying to put you through his fucking mattress like he’s got something to prove. Your nails clawing at his sides, tapping at his abs to slow down but he’s not letting up..

“You better move that fucking hand if you know what’s good for you..it’s not stopping shit so put it down.”

instead, he’s slamming that thick, throbbing cock into your tight little pussy, that’s already sore and soaking wet from his pounding. He’s got your legs pinned back; opened wide so you can both watch all eight inches of him pulsating through the pit of your stomach. His thumb pad rolling against your already sensitive clit as his lips pressed to your gold chain laced ankle and soft instep, thanks to that foot and white painted toes pressed to his chest.

“..hngh! Arminnnn..fuck!”

coaxing out another stream of squirt to join the several others he’s induced out of you with those long, rhythmic thrusts. Even taking that big dick of his out to tap the tip against your folds and make it worse.

the result of constant teasing…swearing that he wasn’t capable of piping you like this. However, he was more than happy to debunk that claim and trust, it didn’t help when you confessed to fucking a friend of his. So he was extra motivated to make you his for good.

“Yes, baby. Keep crying for me..keep begging ‘cause it only turns me on.”

the sight of watching you twitch and flail around amuses him, so much so..he’s put it back in mid orgasm and feels that cunt clamping the base of his shaft. Clasping a hand around your throat, he leans down and snakes his tongue into your mouth; feeding you sloppy kisses and deep strokes.

“Besides, this is exactly what you wanted, right? For me to show you I wasn’t pussy..that I could fuck you better than anyone you’ve ever been with? Well tell me, sweetheart…did I?”

“Y-yes! It’s so good, daddy…fuck!”

laughing and taunting as he slightly restricts your breathing for his own pleasure, watching your brown eyes roll back as you claw at his wrists, shaking your head profusely. It feels so damn good and he’s definitely gotten his point across but he’s far from finished..

in fact, he knows just how he wants to use you next..finally releasing, he moves those same fingers to the side of your face with a few light taps.

“..good answer. Now get up, I’m not done with you.”

his voice much lower in pitch and honestly, deep enough to cause a twitch between your thighs. This new side of him were both frightening and fucking sexy. Grasping the top of your head, he reluctantly pulls out and repositions you to the edge of the bed with your head dangling from it.

once he crawls off the bed, all you see is that massive dick dangling in front of your face and his hands cupped around the back of your neck to support your already dizzy head.

wasting not another second, he places that tip and shaft into your mouth and begins pumping. Not even an hour ago, he was your homeboy and now, you were nothing more than a useless hole to him. An object, a toy to play with and take out all of his frustrations..

he’s having his way and you love it. It’s a given at this point that no one will be able to top him. You could fuck his whole crew and not one could ever compare..

the gulping noises and sloppy sounds of you sucking his cock are driving him crazy. He’s mad with lust and power, having this much dominion over one person’s body. Watching as he sees himself bulge into the center of your throat. Tears streaming down your cheeks only adding fuel to the burning fire.

he can hear you faintly whimpering and whining, causing vibrations around his length. Even clawing at the sheets momentarily but as you’ve come to learn, he doesn’t give a single, secular fuck about your feelings right now.

it didn’t matter how much you gagged, spat or even slapped at his muscular thighs. You were his until he grew bored and let you go.

“I don’t need to hear all that whining, bitch. I need you to eat this dick up..hell, throw up on it for all I care. You just better suck that nut out when I say so.”

the way he’s talking to you, it’s too much to bare…you’ve never seen him so aggressive, so mean and so…focused. But God, do you not want it to end anytime soon. He could have it all night if that’s what he wanted. Just to ensure that the inside of those jaws are nice and lubricated, he tugs out for a split second only to replace it with a long string of his saliva before shoving it back in.

this time, he’s going deeper and a lot faster. Grunting loudly, going crazy until he began to slow up and eventually, hold it in place for a minute. You could feel him sitting stagnant in the back of your throat until there was another faint twitch and his thumbs pressing gently into the sides of your neck.

“…hold still.” The last words he uttered before letting out a loud, guttural moan and a stream of milky cum into your mouth..making you swallow every drop as he emptied his balls. Tossing his head back as he cried out, letting the silky remnants slip down your throat.

“That’s right, swallow it..”

once he finished, you were given a very brief break while he decided his next move. Coughing and heaving, you’d lean back up, trying to catch your breath for a second. But there was no rest for his little slut quite yet. Giving you two light love taps, Armin ushered you to your knees and on all fours.

he’d place his palm into the center of your back to get the arch exactly as he wanted it and from there, he’d prepare to glide back in. Just to make sure that you stayed put, he raise his leg and press it to your head before tugging both arms backwards.

he was straight dogging your shit and at this rate, you wouldn’t be able to move afterwards…a risk well worth the reward.

“..just in case you wanna run from me.” bending down to whisper in your ear before proceeding to push himself in all the way one last time. And if you thought for a second he’d take it easy, you were sadly mistaken. With that thick ass bouncing off the base of his cock, he’d drill your pussy, back with those same strokes that had beaten it sore the first time around.

with all of your limbs in his grasp, (y/n) was only left with the option to scream face first into the sheets to let out those moans and let him know how wonderful of a job he was doing. In and out..one stroke right after the next, he was met with your tight grip and gushy cream all over him. He couldn’t help but to act crazy about it..

“Oh fuuuck..you’re such a perfect fit, baby. It’s like this pussy was made just for me..” crying out as he kneaded his nails into your hips and fucked up into you with all that he had. It was the mist soft and vulnerable you had seen him since this little sex session. It just wouldn’t remain that way..

switching his foot with his fingers, Armin bent down and snatched your head up yet again, as if he were trying to tug the hair from your scalp. Barely coherent, you were met with his very menacing glare and smile.

“Which means I better not catch you giving it to anybody else again. Understood?..” the words resonating throughout your body like a spell he had cast and there was no way you were breaking it.

“I said do you understand? Talk..”

“Yes, daddy. It’s your pussy..it’s all yours..”

between the weight of his body burrowing down on you and the intense pressure swelling in your heat, you couldn’t handle another second and after hearing you make that statement, neither could he.

he felt on top of the world.

curling over your entire frame, Armin made a few more final strokes before commanding that you come all over his dick and you didn’t hesitate.

“Oh my God! I’m coming..” screaming with all that you had left, (y/n) let out the last of the wetness onto his shaft and the sheets. Falling limp shortly thereafter, you’d feel yourself become less full.

but you’d hear those sexy grunts of his rang out again as he jerked his cock, wringing his wrist around until your back was met with the warmth of that white cream against your perfect brown skin.

it was a beautiful sight and one he wanted to see whenever he felt like from now on…

“..who’s soft now, sweetheart?”

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leighsartworks216 · 6 months

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can i request a tav x astarion where tav is mute? i wonder how they would be communicating

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I really struggled with this request, but I decided to try again on a whim and whoooo boy it's a doozy. I also did not make Tav mute, but I played with a Paladin oath I have had on my mind for a looong time so they are effectively mute

Warnings: fear of death, blood, mentions of death/dead bodies, religion, anxiety, fear, being trapped, crying, swearing, angst, hurt/little comfort, possibly OOC

Word Count: 3,624

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

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You huff in annoyance for the fifth- no, sixth, time. Perhaps more. The vendor stares at you as though you’re insane, even though you couldn’t possibly be clearer! You exaggerate further, pointing at the potion, yourself, and your coin purse. If he would just mark how much the damn thing cost, you wouldn’t have to keep going through this!

Astarion sighs sharply. “They want to buy the potion,” he bemoans. “Now, please, tell them the price so we can move on.”

The vendor starts with wide eyes and realization on his face. He flushes from his cheeks, down his neck, and to the tips of his ears as he stutters out the price. You shove the money into his chest and grab what you’ve paid for, before stomping off. And if Astarion slipped an extra something in his pocket while the vendor was dying of his stupidity, who would really care?

He caught up in a few long strides. “We must find a better way for you to communicate, darling. I can’t keep translating for you.”

You made a few sharp gestures.

“I don’t see the big deal in carrying a paper and pencil around,” he answered with a scoff. “Or, you know, you could just speak. I know you can.”

You glared at him. That, he didn’t need a translator for.

This had been an ongoing argument from the very moment you ran into each other on the beach. When he had you pinned to the ground and you didn’t speak, he originally thought you were just being stubborn. When he finally let you go, you’d explained to him (in writing) that you’d made an oath of silence, and that you had nothing to do with the Illithid kidnappings.

Fortunately, you discovered early on that some hand signs were shared with the Theive’s Cant, which he understood quite well. When Gale and Wyll came along, one who’d learned some sign through books and the other who learned by helping people as the Blade of Frontiers, Astarion was relieved he wouldn’t have to translate for you. Except, you continued to drag him along to act as the middle man anyway.

His solution, proposed frequently both seriously and in jest, was to break your oath. An oath of silence was a ridiculous thing to promise anyway, especially now that you needed to communicate so frequently, but any time the suggestion was posed, you’d just level him with a hard stare.

“You know I can’t do that,” you signed, annoyed.

He rolled his eyes. “Ugh, Paladins. So dedicated to the chains that bind them.”

“To break my oath would be to lose my powers. Do you want me to keep reviving your ass during battle or not?”

He sneered. “You couldn’t make an oath of vengeance or something? It would certainly be a lot easier to follow through on.”

You rolled your eyes and walked faster. You hated arguing about your oath. Wyll and Gale wouldn’t behoove you for it - so why did you bring him along, he wonders.

Astarion heaved, pressing against a stitch in his side that tightened with each breath. The fight was brutal. Everyone was bloody and exhausted. Shadowheart turned from the dead beast before them to help Wyll who lay prone on the ground. Karlach pulled her mighty axe from its head with a squelch and a crunch, cheering at the victory.

He chuckled breathlessly at her antics. Almost stumbling, he turned in a circle, eyes scanning the battlefield. The beast’s cronies lay still, scattered everywhere. Blood overwhelmed his senses. How did that saying go? Water, water, everywhere, but not a drop to drink.

He frowned. He looked around again. “Where’s Tav?”

Karlach’s whoops quieted immediately. She looked around as well. “They didn’t get crushed under this,” she kicked the creature in the eye, “did they?”

He shook his head. “They weren’t close enough…” He growled, frustrated, and turned to the magic-users. “Did you see where Tav went?”

Shadowheart supported Wyll as he sat up, groaning. They both shook their heads. “Last I saw them, they were over there,” the warlock croaked, nodding over to the side. “But I don’t know how long I’ve been down for.”

Astarion winced as he jogged over to where he said, stepping over and on top of dead bodies. He took another step. His foot did not collide with floor nor flesh. His heart lurched as the world fell out from under him. A hand grabbed the neck his armor and pulled him back, falling on his ass onto solid ground.

“Careful, Fangs!” Karlach chastised worriedly. She let him go, pulling them both to their feet and brushing him off. “You alright?”

His mind was still reeling. He nodded in a daze. All he could do was stare at the nearly-invisible chasm he’d almost fallen down into… And then his mind caught up.

He raced forward again, dopping to his knees right before the tear in the earth, and leaned over it. Even his darkvision couldn’t help him see what was below; it was so dark, like all light that fell into it was swallowed up. A heavy weight settled in his chest.

“Tav?!” he shouted down into the darkness. His voice echoed. He had no idea how deep it went.

The realization set in for Karlach as well. “Oh fuck…”

“Tav, are you down there?!” He waited a moment, but he was met with only silence.

Shadowheart and Wyll rushed over. They peered into the deep with concern. Astarion shifted so he sat on the ground, legs dangling over the edge. He remembered the feeling of falling. Fortunately, he couldn’t see how deep it was, so at least vertigo did not make it seem deeper; the shadow was doing a perfect job of that on its own.

Wyll grabbed his shoulder before he could slide forward. “Astarion, we have no idea how deep it goes, or what’s down there! You could be impaled on a spike before you ever make it to the bottom. We don’t know if they’re even alive!”

“And if they are?” he growled. “They could be trapped down there with no way of telling us.”

“And you’ll be trapped down there if you go after them!”

He couldn’t argue with anything logical. So what if he got stuck down there? He needed to know you were okay. His blunt nails dig into the stone edge, knocking loose flecks of rock and sediment. How could he just leave you down there?

Shadowheart looked around at the bodies. “We could make some rope. Lower it down, see if they grab on.”

He snorted mirthlessly, sneering at the cleric. “And if they’re too injured to?”

She glared back at him. “I don’t see you proposing any better ideas.”

Karlach and Wyll shared a look. It seems they’d have to be the level-headed ones here… “We can strip the bodies. Tie their clothes together until it’s long enough.” To hopefully reach the bottom, was left unsaid.

Karlach and Shadowheart got to work immediately, working to remove the clothes of their fallen enemies, scrunching their noses in disgust all the while. Wyll squeezed Astarion’s shoulder and joined them, trying to decide what clothes were in good enough condition to hold weight. Astarion stared into the pit for a while longer.

Your head spun. Everything ached. Each breath was like fire in your lungs. You bit your lip to silence your whimpers, biting down so hard you could taste iron in your mouth.

As the pain ebbs to a manageable level, you try to figure out where you were. It was dark. You couldn’t make out your hand right in front of your face. You couldn’t even be sure your eyes were open. You only knew they were when you looked up and saw light coming from far above you. It was dim and flickering - the flames of the braziers that lined the battlefield.

You blinked into the darkness, willing your eyes to adjust. Cautiously, you reached out your hands and felt around. The ground beneath you was covered in fine gravel, almost like sand. The finer sediment stuck to your hands when you pulled away. There was a wall behind you, possibly made from slate. It would be impossible to climb. With a muffled groan, you’re able to reach your foot out and touch the opposite wall. The effort leaves you panting.

You lay still on the floor for a minute. Clearly, you fell from quite high up. How far was still a mystery, but the fact was you did fall. When you’ve caught your breath, you feel for any injuries. Your armor restricts you, but it seems to have protected you for the most part. You’ll be bruised as hell, but you can’t find any open wounds. At least you were fortunate there.

You look up again. You can’t hear anything coming from above, but you’re unsure if it’s from the depth of the chasm or because the battle is over. You hope they are able to win the fight without you. All your companions are strong in their own right, you know they can pull through this.

You squint at the opening above. You think you see something moving at the top, but it’s merely a speck. Using the wall and gathering your waning strength, you push yourself to your feet. You heave as you lean against the slate. The silhouette is still too far away to make out.

T..av….

A distant cry, distorted heavily by the chasm. It takes a moment for you to recognize it as your name. Your heart leaps in your chest.

… av….. Ar… d..wn… the..re…

You can’t tell who’s calling down to you, but you take faith in the knowledge it must be one of your companions. The beasts wouldn’t know your name. Now you just have to signal them somehow…

You feel around your body for your sword, but the sheath is empty. It must have fallen elsewhere, perhaps only feet away, but you can’t see worth a damn. You try instead to cast a ball of light. It should be easy - it’s a spell you’ve cast a hundred times before. But as you strain to conjure even a spark, you become lightheaded. Your knees buckle, collapsing you back to the gritty floor. You try again, but you can feel your energy being sapped away. Your hand falls weakly to the ground.

You rest your head back against the wall and think. You can’t use your sword to hit the rock and make a sound, or defend yourself if something lurks within the darkness. You can’t cast a light, nor any other spell, lest you fall completely unconscious and make your chances worse. The more options you run out of, the more desperate you become. You try reaching out to their tadpoles, but they must be too far away.

You’re stuck.

A sob chokes you as it forces its way up your throat. Even that is muffled by you, by pure habit at this point. You’ve held your oath for years; you’ve learned how to stay silent even under the worst situations. Now it’s come to bite you in the ass.

You look up at the dim light, blurred through tears. They burn as they just keep coming. Your lip quivers as you quietly gasp for air. You’re going to die down here.

Your last option, you’ve already dismissed before it fully forms. You could break your oath, call up to them, cry out for help with the last of your strength. But to do that would leave you even more helpless than before. To speak was to lose your powers. Your god would rip them away in a heartbeat, until you plead for forgiveness; pray for hours and hours to swear your allegiance and dedication once more.

A slave to the chains that bind you.

But what choice do you have?

You try to catch your breath, slow the hiccups and sobs down until you can fill your lungs with air. You open your mouth, try to form the words, but it comes out as a weak sound, almost a poor facsimile of a donkey’s bray. You haven’t spoken for years, to do so now was an astronomical feat. You feel the burn of your god’s eyes as they watch you actively work to break your oath.

You try to speak again. You form an h sound, but it’s so quiet, it’s hardly enough to be considered speaking. You need to shout. You need to let your friends know you are alive down here. Anxiety grips your heart as you imagine being left down here alone, left to starve to death, or worse.

You swallow. You have to do this. You can do this.

“H..e..lp,” you croak out, a mere whisper. It’s raspy and breathy, but it’s a word. You feel your power being sapped away. You nearly sob again. Your god would abandon you down here. An unfeeling master who only craves loyalty. Astarion was right.

You take another deep breath and try harder. “H-elp..!” It’s still a strained rasp, but you hear it begin to echo off the walls. Louder. It needs to be louder. You cup your hands around your mouth. “Help!” Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the burning in your throat. “HELP!”

Astarion’s hands are raw from tying knots. Karlach will bring him big piles at a time, plopping them down beside him, and he’d add them all onto the already-quite-long rope. It was perhaps 30 feet long by now, but he wasn’t confident it would reach.

Wyll sighed, exhausted. “We’re almost out of clothes, my friend.”

Astarion doesn’t look up, barely paying attention to the warlock enough to tell him to keep working. Calluses on his hands open and turn into blisters. He winces with each knot he pulls tight. But he won’t stop. How can he?

Shadowheart sighs as she pulls the pants off another corpse. She’s seen far more anatomy in one hour than she ever wished to again. Karlach sits down by the pile and pulls the other end of the rope into her lap. She begins working to tie more on.

They work silently, but rather efficiently. In another minute, the rope has grown considerably longer. Blood begins to stain Astarion’s end.

“Fangs, maybe you should take a break.” He shakes his head, frowning as he grabs a robe off the pile. Karlach is about to insist, get Wyll or Shadowheart to take over, when a sound comes from the pit. Astarion drops everything and scrambles over as fast as he can.

He tilts his head, facing his ear down into the depths. And he listens…

H..E..LP!

He immediately shouts down into the hole. “We’re going to get you out!” He rushes back to his feet and to the rope. The others drop their half-naked corpses, and Karlach finishes tying one last knot. They help Astarion drag it over to the pit, all lining up to hold onto the end, though, to be honest, Karlach will be doing most of the heavy lifting. He guides the end over the edge, and hurriedly lowers it down. He wants to throw it in, but he’d rather not throw somebody else over the edge with the sudden weight.

He’s knelt right on the edge, wide eyes staring, searching into the dark. He has no idea how close they are to you, or even if it’s long enough. He hopes your god is merciful enough to play with fate.

“Find the rope!” He shouts down. He hopes his voice is reaching you. “We’ll lift you up!”

It’s too quiet for too long. If his heart still beat, it would be racing faster than a rabbit’s on the run. Dread builds up, heavy and unpleasant, in his chest instead. Did you pass out? Was the rope long enough? Would he have to slide down and carry you back up? What was taking you so damn long?!

He’s a second away from removing his armor to climb down when the rope shifts, being tugged by something down in the darkness. He can only hope it’s you. He scrambles to his feet and gets in front of Karlach, grabs hold of the rope with bloody fingers, and begins pulling you from the pit.

Somehow they manage to work as a unit. He’s scrambling to pull you out as fast as possible, but Karlach manages to get him to slow down. If they could do long pulls, they could drag you out faster with less work. He worries his lip between his teeth. Each knot that slips over the edge adds to his anxiety. He’s waiting for the moment it reaches the end and nothing is there. He can only take solace in the fact he can feel your weight holding on. Gods, he thinks desperately, just keep holding on.

After an eternity of pulling, a hand reaches over the ledge. Karlach makes up for his absence when he lets go and falls to his knees at the edge. He reaches in and wraps his hands under your arms, heaving you up and, finally, back on solid ground. He pulls you solidly into his arms, sliding back away from the edge. He’s sick and tired of chasms.

You’re no longer wearing your armor, and your weapons belt is gone, too. Fine, black dirt sticks to your clothes and hands, and even smears across your face, washed away by a stream of tears. He wipes them away with one hand; he can’t give a damn about the blood he leaves in its place.

“I’ve got you,” he breathes. You sob as fall forward, your head landing solidly against his shoulder. Your whole body trembles and shudders with each cry. He’s disconcerted by the sound of your voice, no longer purposefully muffled. He threads his fingers into your hair, holding you to him. “Shh. I’ve got you. You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

If your body ached at the bottom of the pit, now you couldn’t even think about moving. Astarion had carried you as far as he could and then some, until Karlach had to take you from his arms before he dropped you. Even then, he stayed right by her side, watching you anxiously.

Back at camp, Shadowheart healed what she could, but most of her energy was spent during the fight. Haslin took over, but even the best he could do would have you bruised and in pain for the next few days. He went into the woods for ingredients to make a soothing balm.

Wyll helped you drink water, and Gale helped you drink some broth, to hold you over until he could make dinner proper. Lae’zel rifled through your veritable hoard of supplies to find you some suitable armor and weapons, and worked to sharpen and polish them.

When you were finally given the chance to rest, Astarion carried you from your bedroll into his tent, laying you down on his own bedroll. He provided as many pillows as you wished, as many blankets as you could ever ask for. He gathered a bowl of water and a fresh cloth and worked to clean the grime off your face.

You watched blankly, too emotionally and physically exhausted to process much. He passed the cloth over your forehead. It was blessedly cool, but the flash of red that crossed your vision could not be ignored.

Arms like lead, you willed a hand to grab his, stopping him mid-swipe. He winced as you pried the cloth from his hand, where it dropped wetly onto your neck, and ran your thumb along his palm. Blisters and blood covered every inch, skin torn and peeling in places. Without even thinking, you try casting a spell to heal him.

Whereas before, when you tried to cast a spell, you could feel it draining your energy from you, now you just felt nothing. It was like dipping a bucket into a well and coming up empty. There is no more magic within you to fuel a spell. Tears prick at your eyes again.

Astarion sighs, long and low. “You don’t have your magic.”

It takes far too much effort to even shake your head. You take a breath, and through the rasping pain, you speak. “They… took it away when… I called for help…” You swallow thickly. Your voice was foreign to you.

It was foreign to Astarion, too. He could recognize the way you signed, the slight variations of years of experience against Gale’s book-perfect signing or even Wyll’s slower, more purposeful movements. He associated it with you so strongly. To hear you speak was like watching a ventriloquist put on a show.

A bitter feeling took hold within him. Just like all gods, all masters, all people with power to laud over another, you were abandoned in your darkest hour, by someone you spent so long dedicated to. Prayers, offerings at alters, your faithful silence - it would never be enough, not to a god who always craved more.

But now isn’t the time to say I told you so. Gently, he removes his hand from your grasp. Your hand flops back to your side. He takes the cloth from where it rested at your neck, re-wets it, and continues cleaning your face.

He doesn’t say anything as he wipes away your tears, catching them before they have a chance to slide down to your ears. When the sobs choke you, he helps you drink some water. When your sorrow lulls you to sleep, he tucks you in and stays by your side, a faithful argus.

---

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ruewrote · 1 year

Text

𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader WARNINGS: jj having a panic attack, reader worrying for jj GENRE: flangst. SONG INSPIRATION: beneath your beautiful by labrinth WORD COUNT: 718 REQUESTED: yes

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you would say that jj was a very outgoing person, he always had a bright attitude toward everything. he'd been like ever since you were young.

whether it'd be with the way he held himself or how he talked to others, but deep down his insecurities dug deep.

the biggest one of all was looking like his mother, his dad made sure jj knew how much he hated him for it.

it started off with hurtful words that soon turned into cuts and bruises, it had only gotten worse as he grew up.

he'd wince and try and secretly hold his side when he fell a bit too dramatically onto you, not looking you in the eyes as he got up, changing the subject before you could even say anything about it.

you knew him. you knew something wasn't right.

weeks went by and you gave him every opportunity for him to tell you what was really going on, but got nothing in return.

tonight you were supposed to have your movie night, just like you did every friday after school since your parents were at work 'til late, but no. there you sat alone. the most recent message out of five going straight to delivered.

blowing out a defeated sigh, tired of waiting around. you started getting ready for bed, changing into a borrowed sweatshirt that was his and a pair of shorts, sliding under your bed covers.

your head full of worried thoughts as it pressed against your pillow, unlocking your phone for what felt like the hundredth time that evening still not finding any sign of a response.

closing your eyes deciding it was better to sleep early than to overthink.

an hour went by and you lay looking up at your ceiling wide awake, grunting as you chucked the pillow from under your head, over your face.

that's when your phone started to vibrate from beside you. shooting up from under the mountain of blankets, you clicked accept.

"y/n we need your help-- jj just got to the chateau and he's freaking the fuck out can you--?" kiera rambled, with that said you ran out of your house, jumped onto your bike, feet pedaling as fast as they could.

not caring about how the old metal chain was scrapping against your calves. just hoping that he was alright.

you heard the muffled but recognizable yells as you got closer, hearing things being thrown from the other side of the home as you leaned your bike up against the porch fencing.

"c'mon man, you gotta chill out!"

your hands clenched at your sides as you made your way into the house, seeing broken glass everywhere. the shouts getting louder as you carefully shuffled over the debris.

"jay?" that was all it took for everything to stop. a heavy silence hung over the chateau, jj slowly turned to you, his fists uncurled. letting his guard down since it was you.

gasping when you saw his bruised face, rushing over to him hands hovering over his cheeks, not wanting to hurt him. he hadn't made any effort of looking into your eyes, feeling too ashamed of himself. your thumb brushed against his chin, tilting his head toward you, that's when jj broke down.

jj's body slumped into yours, his shoulders shook as you held him, your arms wrapped tightly around him as you stroked the hair that you could reach. his fingers clenched the material of your clothing as he nuzzled his face deeper into the crook of your neck.

"i've got you, it's okay..."

you made eye contact with pope and john, giving them a sad smile and watching them leave you standing in the middle of the messy living room with the broken boy still in your arms.

it was later now and you were cuddled up under jj's arm, laying on his chest as a random movie played in the background. he fell asleep a long time ago, but you continued to trace shapes on his chest.

not being able to sleep, feeling heartbroken after finding out the truth about his dad. blaming yourself for not noticing sooner.

your eyes now filling with tears as you looked up to see how peaceful he looked as he slept. so carefree.

that night you made a promise to him and yourself that you'd protect jj no matter what. not realizing yourself falling even deeper for him.

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dawnwriterimagines · 9 months

Text

Missing Pieces : Fontaine x f!Reader

Summary: After supposedly returning from a shooting he can't remember, Fontaine's memory seems to be a little jacked as something doesn't feel right. He sits down with Slick Charles, trying to connect the missing pieces in his daily routine, while everyone tries to explain to him that someone's missing...

Warning(s): Violence, Angst, Amnesia, etc.

It was loud, it was close, almost like it was right in front of him.

BANG!

A gun shot rang out.

Fontaine's eyes burst open, he sits up with a startled breath, almost choking on the first gasp he lets out.

Putting a hand against his chest, feeling for the indent of a bullet hole he was sure had gone through him at some point. But there was none, only the raised scars from a few mishaps or scuffles with any dumb motherfucker that used to try him. The ghost of pain was strange, as he shook himself out of his slumber it quickly settled and numbed to nothing. But it wasn't really even a memory, a nightmare?

He'd gotten shot before, never flat out in the chest like he'd felt when he got up. Somehow, he imagined it would've felt differently. But, then again, it was only a nightmare.

Fontaine ran a hand down his face, sighing heavily. The nightmare faded from his mind, he couldn't even remember what it was about, but it had left him shaken.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he seemed to wait for something, looking beside himself to see if anyone were sleeping at his bedside. It was empty, the other side's cover tucked tight.

Brows furrowing at the weird feeling that the morning had already brought for him, Fontaine huffed out a breath and stood, preparing for his day.

He got dressed, throwing on the white sweatshirt and a pair of worn down jeans, as he pulled them on, he caught sight of a silver chain on his dresser, a threaded cross at the end.

Walking over to it, he took it and looked it over, it was unfamiliar to the eye but he could've sworn at some moment he had probably worn it, or he had seen it on somebody else. He pockets it, leaving the room.

Outside, he meets up with his boys, the gang crowding at the corner, waiting on him. On the front yard, Fontaine lays on the lifting bench, putting an ungodly number of rusted plates on the bar before pressing the weight with no assistance.

The two other swole muhfuckas huddle around him hyping him up, throwing insults to goad him to a few more lifts as he nears his next rep, "One more! Weak ass nigga!" Fontaine huffs a puff of air, muscles flexing as he lifts another. "One more!"

"Hey Fontaine!" Junebug yells as he runs over, a Caprisun in his grasp.

Fontaine racks the weight with no problem, sitting up, he looks to the kid as he stops in front of him with a toothy smile, looking around. "Where she at, man?" Junebug asks, suddenly looking disappointed.

Fontaine raised a brow, before standing taking his jacket off the ground, "What you doin' here, Junebug?"

"(Y/n)," the kid says, "Where she at, huh?"

"I ain't got yo' babysitter, lil man." The name sounds familiar for a split second, until it doesn't.

Junebug frowns. "Did you get in a fight again?"

"What the fuck you talkin' bout, Junebug? I dunno no bitch named..." he pauses a minute, catching sight of a car, a 1975 AMC Pacer, a dark yellow color. It was parked up down the block, just behind his Pontiac.

Ignoring Junebug's nonsensical questions, Fontaine turns to Big Moss, who holds a handheld fan to his face, "Yo' nigga, who car is that?" he points to the Pacer.

Big Moss looks over, squinting a bit, "Ain't that yo' honey's, mane?"

"Ma' honey?" Fontaine made a face, clearly the only person lost here. "The fuck you on?"

The rest of the gang around made sour faces, some clearing their throats and turning at the suddenly uncomfortable conversation, attempting to nosily mind their businesses. "Not no mo', I guess," Big Moss says, awkwardly. Clearing his throat, "It's cool mane."

"The fuck--" Fontaine's interrupted.

"You and (y/n) ain't together no mo'?" Junebug looks disheartened. "What you do?"

"Ya'll niggas crazy, I ain't know no bitch named (y/n)--"

"Fonnie..." a gentle whisper in his ear startles him. A woman leans in close to him, he feels her hands drag up the side of his torso and up his chest from behind, hugging him close for just a second...

He turns quick.

His eyes instinctually cut to the yellow Pacer at the corner of the street as he finds no one to blame behind him. "Crazy..." he repeats, maybe about himself.

Fontaine decides to get in his car, driving to the liquor store. He buys a lotto and a routine bottle of Anaconda Malt Liquor. As he unscrews the cap, taking a swig, he hopes for a buzz or a sense clarity that never hits him, maybe it was time for something a little stronger.

He scratches the lotto, and the same outcome taunts him back with a 'You Lose' in bold. Tossing it to the ground, he walks back towards his car, coming up towards Frog, the homeless old man that always had some riddle to say. And he didn't disappoint. "Lovin' n' holdin an' they just takin' n' stealin', ey youngblood?" Frog says, holding up the styrofoam cup as Fontaine pours a good bit of the liquor to his cup.

"Yeah, Frog," Fontaine sighs, used to the nonsensical jabber. "Yeah."

Leaning up against the side of his car, he takes a drink, before reaching into his pocket, pulling out the chain he'd found in his bedroom earlier. He brings it up to look closely, in some way he recognized it, but not enough to recognize it as something he'd worn in the past few days or even months.

As he holds the chain, he notices a smear of red along his finger, rubbing his thumb at the stain on the silver, rubbing off the red. He stares at it on his fingers, he recognizes it to be lipstick, a soft red shade.

Even more confused, he huffs out a breath, but he holds the chain tight in his grip, trying to think of any moment in time that he could've possibly been given it, or anyone that could've left it. He hadn't let anyone in his house in a while, let alone his bedroom, the last woman he had slept with had been...fuck when was the last time he'd gotten laid?

For some reason, he was convinced it wasn't as long ago as he thought.

He gets in his car, driving back towards home.

That's when he catches sight of someone. At the end of the street, a black man in a white sweatshirt limps down the road, his chest stained with red. He's on his knees, curling his arms around someone, dragging the person onto their feet, but they're limp in his grip, dead. A woman, jeans wet with blood and knit sweater falling off her shoulders torn and smeared with red. She's pretty, gorgeous even, from what he can see from here.

The man struggles to stand to his feet with her again, his shoulders shake from the effort or from the angry sobs that wracked through him. Fontaine can see that every movement is agony, he watches as the man hacks up a mouthful of blood. He'd been shot too.

As he hacks up a lungful, the man's eyes flicker up to see Fontaine driving past. They look at one another.

And for a moment, Fontaine sees himself. Literally. His hair, his eyes, his clothes even which he was wearing at this current moment. He forgets he's still pressing on the gas when he loses sight of him.

Fontaine stomps on the brake, stopping the car, he looks to the rearview mirror, quick. When did he start breathing so heavy? It had to just be a coincidence, just a trick of light or of his mind. That can't be him.

Interrupting his thoughts, a black van drives into the area, nearly clipping the Pontiac as it swerves around the corner and towards the couple.

"NO, NO, Nooo! NO!" the man even sounds like him..."Get the fuck away from us! Get the fuck off--! No!" he's cut off by the slamming of the car doors, muffling his screams and driving off quick.

All that's left of them is the red stain against the cement.

As he makes it home, trying his best to forget about the strange event, Fontaine pockets the chain he forgot he was still clutching.

He makes a sandwich, cutting it in half, he walks to his mother's door and knocks, "Mama, you hungry?"

She answers. "Nah, I'm good, baby. Josephine had a fish fry last night, I'm still full."

He walks away from the door, covering the plate for later and making another sandwich. He must've blanked out because next thing he knows he's making two new peanut butter sandwiches, cutting the crusts off one of them absently. Slowly stopping, he places the knife down, confused with himself.

He takes one of the sandwiches, sits down on the couch and turns on the TV. As a poorly filmed commercial starts, he swipes his malt liquor off the table and takes a swig. "--Gon getcha summa dis here limited-time-only Hotbox Spicy Chicken! Cause remember, who needs all these vices when you've got all these herbs and spices--" the narrator continues as folks dance after every bite.

A commercial he's seem about a hundred times, before another came on about perm cream.

Fontaine zoned out, chewing silently on his sandwich, wondering why everything seemed so off today. Who was (y/n)? Did he just imagine seeing himself today? Who's fucking chain was this?!

He tosses the chain across the table, it hits a box of pizza that halts its slide to the floor.

That's when he noticed the pizza box at the table, eyes narrowing as he quickly thought of someone. Slick Charles. "Motherfucka'..." he stands and takes his keys off the hook.

---

"You saw me, what?"

"Die, muhfucka!" Slick Charles repeats with an agitated yell. "I saw you and yo honey!"

This is the second time someone mentioned his 'honey'.

"I'm clearly not dead, nigga, where's my money?"

"There are more pressing issues to discuss here, nigga!" Slick Charles backs away from Fontaine, looking around his chest for bullet holes, anything to declare the man, undead. "Look if you don't believe me, we'll get, Yo-yo! She'll know, she done lef' around the time you came in, alrigh'?!"

Fontaine glared at the pimp, before rolling his eyes and exiting the hotel to make his way to his car, Slick Charles following. For some reason, his mind drifted to earlier that morning, seeing the couple, covered in blood and dying on the street.

Finding Yo-Yo about to sell some ass for a $50, they interrupt the transaction, getting the sassy prostitute in the car, clad in a fur coat and yellow boots, she sneers at them both. "Ya'll owe me, 50!"

Fontaine gets to the point, hushing the woman. "I need to ask you somethin'," he begins. "You seen me?" he asks, tentatively, almost in a whisper. Asking meant admitting to some degree that he thought he was actually dead and had come back. In some way, that would explain his very realistic nightmare.

"Not like that, nigga..."

"Nah, I mean...you seen me?" he questioned again, quieter this time, serious.

"Yes, nigga, I saw you," Yo-Yo admits, truthfully. "And wasn't (y/n) witchu? I ain't seen her, she ight?"

Slick Charles leaned back in his seat, remembering seeing the young woman in the car before the shoot out started. "Aw no," he whispered.

Fontaine glanced back at the pimp, confused and angry. "Who the fuck ya'll talkin' bout, man? Who's (y/n)?!" he hits the steering wheel, tired of the day, and the dumb shit that's been getting to him lately. "What bitch ya'll think I'm fuckin' with, huh!"

"Well ain't she give you that?" Yo-Yo pointed to the chain on his neck. The cross he had tossed and decided to take with him, he had just absently put it on, almost out of instinct.

"You know who's this is?" Fontaine held the cross up to her face.

"Uh, yeah, nigga, what's wrong wit you?" she gives him a distasteful look.

"Who?!"

"(y/n)!"

"You--"

Slick Charles slaps down a polaroid photo on the console divider, "So you tryna tell me, you don't remember her?"

Fontaine looks down, choosing to ignore the change in tone, Slick Charles has his pointer finger in the middle of an unfamiliar photo, he picks it up. The car is dead silent now as he holds it up to his face, luckily he had parked under a street lamp, providing him a little light to see.

Fontaine's eyes widen as he sees her fully for the first time. (Y/N).

They're frozen in time in the photo, in a paused state of a love he couldn't remember. She presses a smooth kiss to the side of his face, he wraps an around around her waist, pulling her into his lap, his expression was softer than normal despite a lack of a smile. But he wasn't looking at his lips, but the way he'd leaned into her, held her close, he'd never done that before, always keeping his distance from any actual relationship that he recalled in his life.

So this was (y/n)?

He felt he would've remembered someone like her. Why didn't he?

"Remember 'er now?" Slick Charles asked.

"I'm gon' need you to tell me what exactly you saw last night," Fontaine's eyes flickered to Yo-Yo, he's gratefully for how dark it is, he had a feeling now that he had seen her today, drove past her, let someone take her away. What the hell was going on?

---

There was an elevator that led down under the Glen, this tiny town was somehow apart of an entire experiment, for what? He didn't know.

But, it seemed to involve him. Involve you. And involve all the people of The Glen. And if he wanted to know why he seemed to have died late last night, he needed to find out what exactly was going on.

Luckily, he had some help, although he would've preferred a smarter duo, he was stuck with them.

As Slick Charles held his gold gun up to the pale-skinned scientist with a clean shaven afro, giggling and spasming seemingly uncontrollably, Fontaine made his way around the lab.

Yo-Yo began to mess with a few of the strange sets of chemicals within the lab, taking notice of the lack of experimental subjects: like mice or even rabbits, nothing. She tipped a beaker, blew on the white dust, she supposed was cocaine and swirled a bit of a blue liquid in a test tube.

Fontaine found two surgical tables, blue sheets over each figure that seemed to lay atop the metal slabs. Not a single breath moved through the sheets, nothing to signify either one was alive.

He moved one sheet first, it was you. (Y/N)...

And everything suddenly started flooding back in waves.

"Wake up..." she breathes, tapping his cheek as she yawns against his chest.

"I'm awake..." he responds, tiredly.

"No, you're not," she grumbles, before sitting up a little. The movement coaxes him awake, his arm pulling around her shoulders tighter to get her to lay back down.

"Be quiet," he pulls her down on him, she chuckles, conceding.

He scoffs out a humored hum, turning over her, they drift off for another hour or so, awakening to kiss the other. He's leaning over her, the chain she had given him, swinging in front of her face, hanging off his neck.

Fontaine notices it, taking it off in that moment and placing it on the dresser, "No, hey, that keeps you safe," you protest as he moves to shift between your legs. "Don't take it off, Fonnie."

"Yeah, well right now, it's distractin'," he squeezes your thigh, bringing one of your legs over his right shoulder. "I'll put it on later, if you're so worked up bout it."

"Ok, ohh--k, yeah..." he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, letting you take hold of a handful of his locs, your nails running through his scalp in a way that just told him to keep going. "Fon'..." you gasp as he cups the skin of your ass to move down lower, greedily.

After another hour of consuming the presence of one another for the morning, you both move through the day as you usually would. Fontaine would bench press a few reps with guys, you would start making campaign flyers for the protests during the week. He'd leave with Junebug later unbeknownst to you and deal with an amateur dealer that made the dumb decision to sell on his side of the streets. When he comes back, Fontaine and you would head to the store together, he'd get his usual Anaconda Malt Liquor and you'd usually go for a Moscato if not a pack of swedish fish. Pass by Frog for another daily lesson in senile obscurity and pour him a cup.

Heading back home, they'd have breakfast together, sometimes you'd make eggs and bacon, other times Fontaine would make the only thing he really knew how to which were peanut butter sandwiches. You hated the crusts, so he'd always cut them for you. You'd call him soft and he'd sit pause mid-way to let you finish yourself in bitter defiance, to which you'd quickly take back your statement. "Wait, wait, I'm kidding," you laughed. "Come on, finish, you cut them the best! Fonnie!"

"That's all you, baby," he took a bite of his. "All you."

"No, I'm sorry, please, please," you begged, wrapping your arms around him to pull him back to the kitchen. "Come on, Fonnie--"

"How many times I gotta tell you to stop wit' that, Fonnie shi', huh?"

"But I thought you liked it when I called you, Fonnie?" you teased with a smile.

"Fonnie sounds like a bitch, I ain't no bitch."

"You're my bitch though," you cackled.

"Whatchu say?" he turned, surprised at the answer. And you took off running. "Naw, bitch, get your ass back here, whatchu say!"

"Nothing!" You laughed as you ran through the house away from him. "I'm sorry!" you put your hands up as he grabbed at you, the two of you soon enough laughing together.

"Getch your ass back here!"

Later in the day, Fontaine recalls the customer dealings of his business, remembering that Slick Charles still owed him a pay day since last week. Fontaine got to his feet, took his keys, and you accompanied him into the pontiac, tapping the insignia on the hood of your Pacer car parked behind.

Driving off, the two of you enjoyed a moment with each other, you leaned over the console between you both, singing to the song on the radio. "I need a hug...I need a hug..." you nuzzled your face against his shoulder.

"You need to be quiet," he snickered, emphasizing 'Need', glancing over to you as he drove, one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh, and you just kept at it.

He finally parked up by The Royal, a hotel across The Glen, where he knew Slick Charles would be. "Stay here," Fontaine said before leaving the car.

You roll down the window, sticking your head out to wave towards the pimp as your boyfriend forces his way into the hotel room. "Hi, Slick!"

"(Y/n)! Why you ain't tell yo' violent ass nigga to show some goddamn muhfuckin' respect!" he yells mostly towards Fontaine, who glowers at him in return, threatening to punch him right in the grills if he don't keep his mouth shut.

You duck back into the car, choosing to let the two men figure their shit out, instead opening the windscreen, watching as a photo fell out to your lap. A little picture of the two of you, you recalled the day, you'd only been officially together for a few months at the time, but you were happier than ever.

Looking up you take notice of another photo, of Ronnie, you had never met the boy, but you had always wished to, knowing what had happened to the sweet kid, always made your heart clench with tears. You pressed two fingers to your lips and to the still frame of Ronnie, breathing sadly, in some way you felt you knew him, maybe had met him, caught glimpses of him in the street when you were younger.

A beep is heard, startling you to drop the polaroid of you and Fontaine, it slips between the seats and you curse, "Shit, ugh," you glare back at the car that had stopped behind the Pontiac, before driving driving again. "Motherfucker!" You sneered at the driver, who just kept his windows up, music blasting, glass shrouded in smoke.

Fontaine soon returned to the car, pocketing the fraction that Slick Charles had made, not enough to fully pay him back though. "You ready?"

"Yeah, I--" then you saw the same car rolling backwards, coming to a slow park just behind the trunk. But, it was the man walking up to Fontaine's side of the window that really terrified you. "Fon--!"

He turns a little too late, "GET DOWN!" just pulling out his gun when the window shatters, the car being layered with bullets, the young man on the other side frantically emptying the clip. The click of an empty magazine is the only thing left to hear besides the bass drum of the radio of the assaulting vehicle.

The young man stumbles backwards, stuffing the weapon into his shirt and racing into the car for a getaway, as the car speeds off from the scene, Fontaine takes a shuttered breath. Blood spilling from between his lips, his hand achingly coming up to feel the holes that had ripped straight through him.

"(Y/n)..." he heaved out, he turns his head as much as he can, every movement a strain on his failing organs. "(y/n)..." he said again, hoping you'd say anything. "Say somethin'," he huffs out, panicked. Say you're ok. "Say it..." he breathes. "Say it..." he repeats as he struggles to breathe, hoping he'd live a little longer to get some fucking help.

He reaches for you, his fingers inching towards yours, but you were already gone.

And then that's when the van comes around. A few men, white guys in black suits wrapped in plastic, gloved hands and unbothered looks as they swing open the car door. "Woah, he's still alive," Fontaine hears one of them say. "Do we still take him?"

Who the fuck were they?

Obviously they weren't police, or ER, or even some random passerby's.

"Won't last long, so yeah," another says, opening up the opposite door. "Not sure about this one though." He was talking about you, Fontaine was sure.

Fontaine blinked, blacking out a moment before breathing harshly once, as if his heart had stopped in that split second, he was somewhere else now. Suddenly, he had been hauled into the van.

"Guess we'll just have to wipe the next one till we can get a copy going, right?"

"Dunno, we've never had to do that before. Damn, this is going to be a lot of paperwork," the white guy sighs out before turning you in your seat, Fontaine finally gets a good look at you as he lays there trying to keep his eyes open. Your sweater was drenched in your blood, and probably a bit of his, the side of your face wet and broken up from the bullet through your temple. You had died as soon as it happened.

Fontaine felt his heart drop, blood filled his throat and he choked on the feeling, but he wasn't sure if it was from the heartache or the puncture. "...'er go..." he gurgled out, eliciting the attention of the disturbed men around him.

There was a pause. "Was that you or him?"

"Well, it wasn't me..." one of the collectors said.

"Let 'er go, muhfucker," Fontaine managed.

They had begun to drive, going around the corner and away from The Royal motel.

"Shit, he really is still alive," the white man gapped, but he still began to haul you out of the car. "We're not really supposed to talk to y--" then there was a gunshot.

Startling all of them as the man that had begun to unceremoniously strap you down to the metal, fell back and too his knees, silently. A bullet between the eyes. The van swerved in the mens sudden panic.

Fontaine had still had a hand on the handle of his gun all this time, the only issue had been getting the energy to pull the trigger. And he let his hand go around to pull again on the white man that moved to pry the gun from his grip, "No, stop!" the collector had shouted, but the gun went off again, this time right through his hip. "Ahh!"

"Oh, shit! Hey, get up!" picking his co-workers up off the floor, "Get the hell out of here, we'll send another unit!" the only uninjured stranger hauled the others into the van as Fontaine stumbles out of the car taking you with him, trying to get a locked eye on the last of them as they drive off and away from the scene as if they hadn't even been there.

And so, Fontaine sat on the curb for a moment, holding you tight, wondering if anyone else would try to just snatch them off the street again. He watched as the van drove off fast, he wondered why they had bothered to do all of that. To kidnap him off the street, as if they had known exactly who he was, where he would be and that he'd be shot. What did they mean by make a copy later?

Fontaine swayed, wondering how he had even lasted this long. He let his head settle against yours, he wished for the little snore of yours that would usually coax him to sleep. He recalled the first time you had fallen asleep against him, the first time he caught himself falling asleep next to you. Pretty much the first of any time he had let anyone catch him slipping.

And he waited for a single breath to slip from you, to bring him even a sliver of comfort.

But it never came.

Even in the early morning, when he found himself staring into the eyes of...himself? Driving by in the very same car that had been totaled to shit in the parking lot of The Royal motel.

Even when the same black van swept by, turning to haul the two of them up off the street and into the van. They don't let their guard down like the others, and he breathes for the last time in that van, holding tight to your hand, just before they pull you both apart.

- - -

It's not a memory that he can grasp onto, because it's not his to have. Just a copy of moments he's never lived.

And they flood his mind.

Fontaine leans over your dead body that laid on that cold slab of metal, the familiarity becoming knowing, absence of memory becomes an overflow of moments he knew he hadn't lived but he could still hold onto.

As the labs alarms go off, he takes you into his arms, ready to take you out of this horrible place, get you some place warm.

Something the previous version of him, hadn't been able to do. But, he was pulled to do the same as his previous self had tried for you.

"Come on, I got you," he spoke, miserably.

It was like speaking to a lover he had never had. But it was also like losing one he had never said goodbye to.

"Come on, please," Fontaine undid the straps, pulling the plastic sheet laid across your naked flesh. He shivered, you were cold, "I've got you," he stares down at the floor as he holds you in his arms. Memories still flooding his mind, sensations, sounds and feelings only a single version of him had experienced, and it wasn't him.

But he still knew he had loved you.

Slick Charles and Yo-Yo pull him from the lab, the alarm sounding loudly, meaning whoever owned this place would be on their way, forced to leave you on that metal slab, next to the original version of himself.

Fontaine was on that elevator. But, a piece of himself stayed down there, and he'd be back to find it again.

"Believe us now?" Slick Charles spoke the question almost sympathetically.

#fontaine #fontaine x reader #they cloned tyrone #they cloned tyrone x reader #fontaine x black reader #black reader #x black fem reader #they cloned tyrone fontaine #fontaine x black!f!reader #fontaine x f!reader

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mothfables · 2 months

Text

Snail Ch. 3: Doctors Knew Before I Did

The Chain has their first monster battle with little Legend. Also, Wind joins Sky in Legend’s list of trusted people.

Wind is staring.

He knows it’s rude, but he can’t help it! Seeing the Veteran, usually so confident and self-assured, now so quiet, frightened even, is strange.

...Though, he supposes he’d be scared too if he was suddenly small and surrounded by strangers.

But they’re not strangers to him, not really! Which is good, because he’s not sure what they’d do if little Legend didn’t remember them at all. Try really really hard to prove they’re not going to hurt him, probably, going off of his reaction when he first saw them.

—————————

Wind hadn’t known what to think when it happened — only that one moment their Veteran was there and the next he wasn’t. Seeing him so small had set off his protective instincts something fierce, though, and he’d torn into the monsters going after his suddenly-defenseless brother. He wasn’t alone in that, either; Twilight, Wars, and even Hyrule were especially vicious in their efforts to reach him.

And then the monsters were gone and they’d barely gotten a glimpse of him before he disappeared into the trees faster than Wind could blink.

When Sky brings him back Wind finds himself shocked. Legend is tiny and timid and shy, clinging to the older hero in a way older Legend wouldn’t be caught dead doing. He’s even smaller than Four, somehow.

At least he seems to trust Sky. The Chosen is hard not to, honestly, with his kind face and soft demeanor. If it were to be anyone out of their group to gain little Legend’s trust, it would be him.

They all introduce themselves at Sky’s prompting and Wind watches his newly-little brother closely. He’s worried about what’s going through that ever-busy mind, violet eyes flicking between them with a wariness he’s only ever seen when facing dangerous enemies. The boy spooks badly when Warriors and Time speak up, little ears pressing flat against his head and eyes going wide-wide-wide. When it’s his turn, Wind makes sure to keep his body language loose and unthreatening, despite how much he feels like vibrating out of his own skin; it seems to help because Legend untenses just the slightest bit. Wind takes it as a victory.

And then: “‘m Legend. I know you.”

Things get very loud very fast. Wind doesn’t look away from Legend and so he sees the way he cowers into Sky, little shoulders hiking up to his ears and hands clenching the older hero’s pants in tiny fists as he trembles and hides his face. Wind is struck by how much he looks like Aryll when she’s scared or overwhelmed, clinging to Granny or himself for comfort.

He watches as Sky murmurs to Legend, trying to figure out what’s wrong. He’s about to step forward and see if he can help when Sky straightens, snapping his fingers to gain everyone’s attention before signing ‘QUIET!!!’

Amazingly, it works. They all promptly shut up and turn to the Chosen Hero and the child plastered to his side. Sky is glaring fiercely, one hand petting soft pink hair and the other resting protectively against a small back.

Time steps forward, kneeling so as to be closer to Legend’s current eye level. The boy peeks out at him for a moment before hiding his face again. Wind catches a glimpse of teary eyes and pale cheeks and feels that surge of protectiveness again. Legend shouldn’t ever have to look like that; he’ll do whatever it takes to keep that look away from his brother’s face in the future.

Time asks Legend about what he remembers and- oh, yeah, that’s probably a good thing to know. His stuttered answer has more than one of them wincing. Wind sneaks a glance around and sees Four muttering ‘...jumbly?’ with a confused expression. Wild looks especially distressed and Wind recalls suddenly the Champion’s own memory issues.

Right.

This would be uncomfortably familiar to Wild, wouldn’t it. Wind makes a note to check on him later, or at least point Twilight in his direction if he can’t do it himself.

And then Sky is kneeling down and drawing Legend into a hug. He leans into it without complaint, still obviously overwhelmed and confused and upset. Sky rocks side to side, and to Wind’s amazement Legend calms almost instantly, tucking his face into Sky’s neck with a sigh.

Sky remains there for a few more moments, humming softly and petting his hair. Then he stands and hoists Legend onto her hip with a grunt. Legend doesn’t react beyond a small sound and nestling closer.

“Oof, he’s- really light, actually.” Sky blinks in surprise.

Twilight chuckles, though it sounds a little strained. “Kids’re either lighter or heavier than ya expect. Don’t worry too much ‘bout it.”

“If you say so.” Sky looks doubtful but doesn’t argue. She glances at Time where he still kneels on the ground. “We should probably get moving. I don’t want anything else coming along and taking us by surprise.”

Their leader nods and pushes himself to his feet, groaning. Wind has to bite his lip to muffle a snicker. Old Man indeed.

“Let’s find a place off the road to settle down for the night. We can figure what out to do from there. Does everyone have everything?” There’s a chorus of assent.

“Wait!” Sky gasps. “Does anyone have Legend’s things? I don’t remember seeing them when he ran off.”

There’s a moment where they all scramble to look around for them before Wild speaks up. “I grabbed them after you went after him. His weapons and jewelry and everything are all in the Slate.”

Sky sighs in relief.

“Alright, that’s good to hear. Thank you for doing that, Wild.” With a nod, Time sets off down the road in the direction they were going before everything went to shit and the rest of them follow after. Sky stays in the middle of the group, Legend secure in his arms. Everyone else sticks close, keeping an eye out for more danger.

Wind walks next to Sky, sneaking glances every so often, so he’s able to see how Legend clings tight to the older hero, how he keeps his face hidden. Over time he relaxes and seems to fall into a doze, only to startle awake when someone starts to speak. His ears - which are so small! but still very long, which is something Wind’s noticed to be unique to him - flicker uneasily, listening intently to everything around him. Nothing happens for a few minutes and he relaxes again. Then someone else opens their mouth and the cycle repeats.

Eventually they find a place to stop for the night. Camp is set and dinner is eaten without much conversation. Legend doesn’t once let go of Sky.

It’s only once the boy has fallen into an uneasy sleep that someone speaks up.

“...So, what do we do about this?” Four is the one to break the silence. “Do we let it run it’s course? Or do we try to break or reverse it somehow?”

“Do we even have anything that could undo something like this?” Warriors asks.

“Well, I have my moon pearl, but it’s meant to protect you while in the Dark World or from dark magic. Like Twilight’s shadow chrystal,” they explain at Wars’ questioning look. “I know for a fact Legend always keeps his on him, so it should have protected him if it was that sort of magic.”

Twilight’s guilty wince goes unnoticed by all except Sky and Wind. He watches as she narrows her eyes, glancing between the Rancher and the child in her lap before they go wide in realization. Wind frowns; there’s definitely a story there.

Meanwhile, Hyrule is looking closely at Legend from their place beside Sky, brows furrowed. Their head tilts as they mutter under their breath. Wind, sitting on their other side, can barely make out the words spell, curse, natural magic, and twist, maybe? When they pause to take a breath Wind nudges them with his shoulder.

“Got anythin’ ya want ta share, Traveler?”

Hyrule startles before stammering, “O-oh! Uh, I was just- trying to figure out what exactly, um- caused this?” His voice rises in uncertainty.

“That would be good to know,” Wars says, nodding. “What have you got so far?”

Hyrule hums. “It’s- Well, I think it was originally supposed to be a dark spell? Or some sort of curse, maybe.”

Four narrows his eyes at the phrasing. “‘Supposed to be’? So you’re saying it... changed somehow? How would that happen?”

“I’m not sure, but...” Hyrule bites his lip. “His natural magic might have- I dunno, caught it and... twisted it, is the closest thing I can think of. Or maybe some of his items; they’re filled with enough magic to cause a pretty significant rebound.”

“Perhaps it was a mix of both,” Time muses. “The Veteran does carry a large array of powerful items. It’s possible that something in his inventory had some sort of reaction to whatever it was that was intended to hit him.”

It’s quiet for a moment as everyone takes that in. Then Legend snuffles against Sky’s shoulder and Wind has to bite back a coo.

“You must admit, he’s pretty cute like this,” Wars mutters, like he doesn’t intend for anyone to hear. Wind can hear him just fine, and makes it clear by agreeing loudly enough that Wars gives him the stink-eye from across the fire.

“Yeah, he is, isn’t he? Reminds me o’ Aryll when she was little.”

Wars coughs. “So... Do we have anything that could reverse this?”

Twilight hums for a moment before snapping his fingers. “When I got changed t’ the wolf fer the first time, I had ta use the Master Sword ta reverse it. Think tha’ would work here, Sky?”

Sky chews her lip, absentmindedly running a hand through Legend’s hair as she stares at the fire. “It... might,” she says finally, though it sounds unsure. “If- Fi is made to dispel dark... If what Hyrule said is true and Legend’s magic changed it... It might do nothing. Or it might make it worse.” Time flinches imperceptibly. “Since his memory was so affected by the initial change, I’m worried what trying to undo it might do.”

It’s silent for a while after that. Everyone wants Legend to be okay, of course, but if it’s at the cost of his memories...

“I think...” Hyrule starts quietly, like they’re thinking through the words as he says them, “it might be best if we let this run its course. Or at least wait and see how things go before trying to change him back.”

“I agree. Memories are- delicate.” Wild speaks up. “If we can keep him from losing any or messing them up any more than they are, we should do our best to do that.”

No one objects. After a moment Time clears his throat.

“I suppose we are all in agreement, then? We’ll see how things go and use the Master Sword only if necessary?” There’s various sounds of agreement around the fire. Time lets out a breath before slapping his knees and pushing to his feet.

“I suggest we all get some rest, then. Today was... eventful, to say the least. There’s no telling what tomorrow will bring, and we would do well to be prepared. Captain, would you mind taking first watch?”

With that, they all set about their normal nightly routine. Well... almost normal. It’s oddly quiet without Legend’s standard sarcastic quips and snark, even if he doesn’t always say anything. Just his presence is enough to fill the space.

Now that space is occupied by a tiny, shy shadow of the Veteran’s usual self.

—————————

The night passes without any more incidents. Wind wakes the next morning having almost forgotten the events of yesterday, and thus does a double take at the sight of Sky curled around a tiny body, the only part visible a tuft of soft pink hair.

Everyone else is in various stages of awake and gathered around the fire pit. They’re doing a good job of more-or-less minding their own business, though every so often someone will glance over at the lump of blankets containing the Chosen Hero and his charge.

Wild finishes breakfast and is in the process of handing it out when there’s a quiet snuffling sound from the direction of the bedrolls. Everyone looks over in time to witness little Legend sneeze himself awake. It’s nothing like the Vet’s usual muffled sneezes- these are tiny and squeaky and altogether the cutest sound Wind has ever heard.

(Can a sound be cute? ...Y’know what, who cares? This one definitely is.)

The sudden sneezing fit has the bonus effect of waking Sky, who bolts upright with a snort, freeing Legend from the cuddly trap of his arms. The boy tumbles out of the blankets, blinks, and sneezes again.

“Bless you,” Time says mildly.

Wind can’t help himself and coos. “Is it weird ta say that that’s my new favourite sound in any world ever?”

“I wuz gunna say yeah but tha’ is pretty cute,” Twilight agrees.

Sky stumbles to his feet with a yawn. Wild waves at her and she makes her way over to join the rest of them around the fire. Legend quickly follows, latching on to her shirt with little hands. She pauses for a moment at the action, blinking down at him in surprise before shaking it off.

She plops down between Wind and Twilight, giving them a sleepy nod in greeting that they return. Legend hesitates to follow; when she tries to encourage him to sit he takes one look at the Rancher and shies away.

Twilight immediately looks as if his heart has been torn out of his chest and stomped on in front of him. He watches forlornly as Legend inches around behind Sky to her other side.

“Here, I got you.” As if it’s second nature, Sky reaches over and lifts the boy up to set him in her lap. Legend squeaks and goes still, eyes wide with surprise.

It takes a moment for the realization of what she just did to set in, and then Sky is stammering apologies. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-!”

His frantic rambling is brought to a halt as Legend curls up against him with a little hum. His hands hover uncertainly before he lets out a breath and wraps them around the small body in his lap. Legend nestles closer with a content sound.

Quiet footsteps have the older hero glancing up to see Wild coming over, a bowl in each hand. He holds them out with a small smile. “I made oatmeal. I didn’t know if you or Legend wanted anything in yours, so I left it plain. There’s stuff to add to it if you want.”

Sky takes them with a quiet ‘thank you’. He nudges Legend until he looks up and hands him a bowl. “Wild wants to know if you want anything in yours,” he tells him.

Legend stares down at his bowl for a few moments, biting his lip, before he looks up with a shy expression. “Um, I like- I like apples. With cinnamon,” he says quietly.

Wild smiles. “I can do that.”

It’s short work for the Champion to produce and slice an apple from his slate and sprinkle it with cinnamon. He arranges the slices on a small plate and hands it to Legend with another smile.

It’s received with an answering smile and a brightening of violet eyes at the first bite. Legend gives a happy little hum, swaying side to side as he eats. Within minutes both the plate and bowl are picked clean.

The rest of them finish their own breakfast soon after and move to get ready for the day ahead. Legend does his best to help; it’s clear he’s having trouble adjusting to being small again while his brain tells him he should be bigger. Still, he’s stubborn.

Eventually camp is packed up and the Chain sets out. Legend clings to Sky’s hand, trotting alongside him as they walk.

Wind stays close like he did yesterday, chattering up a storm. Legend doesn’t respond much, but that’s okay. He just wants to keep his brother from getting lost in his own head. It seems to work as the boy perks up and doesn’t stick quite so close to Sky.

By the time lunchtime nears, however, Legend is flagging. He refuses all offers to carry him, though, no matter who asks. Over time, he drifts to the back of the group, stumbling tiredly but still stubbornly staying on his own two feet. His hand is still tight in Sky’s.

He stumbles again and Sky makes a worried noise. “Are you sure you don’t want a break? No one would mind-”

“I can do it on my own,” Legend growls. Or, well, Wind is pretty sure that’s what he’s aiming for but it comes out as a tired, mumbled whine. “I managed fine on all my other adventures.” He pulls his hand out of Sky’s.

The older hero looks saddened by the action and Wind feels the same. Legend is so little, like this, and he’s claiming he doesn’t need any help, even though he’s so clearly exhausted. Still, if he doesn’t want help they can’t force it on him. They know from experience it would only end badly.

Up ahead, Twilight pauses, ears flicking as he glances around. “Ah’m hearin’ monsters in th’ woods,” he warns. “Dunno where ‘xactly, but we best be careful.”

“You heard the man, keeps your eyes out for anything that could signal an attack,” Wars calls back to the rest of them.

A few minutes pass and the road stays quiet. Legend falls further and further behind. Wind hears him stumble again and exchanges a worried glance with Sky.

“If he falls I don’t care if he doesn’t want to be carried. I’m picking him up.”

“I’ll help,” Wind offers.

Another stumble and a gasp sound from behind them.

“Okay, that’s it.” Sky turns around. “Lege, I know you don’t want-” He cuts off with a horrified sound.

“Legend!”

Wind whips around to see Legend high off the ground in the grip of a huge moblin. The boy kicks and struggles but he may as well be fighting a rock for all the good it does; the monster, completely unfazed, gives him a hearty shake. Legend yelps as his head snaps back at the force of it and Wind feels his heart stop.

Suddenly an arrow whizzes overhead to embed itself in the monster’s eye. It howls with pain and drops Legend who falls to the ground with a sharp crack!

Sky is there in the next moment, scooping Legend off the ground and slicing the moblin in half in a single movement. He bolts back to the safety of the group with Legend clutched tightly to his chest.

The boy is clutching his left wrist in a vice grip, face pale.

Monsters pour from the trees on either side of the path, blades and teeth glinting and sharp. Wind notes moblins and bokoblins mostly, with a few lizalfos for good measure. They don’t even have the good grace to be from the same era.

Fun.

There’s too many to fight as a group so they split, Warriors barking orders and the rest of them hurrying to follow. Wind blinks and finds himself backed against the treeline with little Legend trembling next to him. Biting his lip, Wind glances around.

The monsters are all in front of him. Now that they’ve launched their attack they don’t seem to care about using the trees to their advantage anymore.

He can work with that.

“Lege, can you climb?” A shaky nod. “Okay, climb one o’ the trees behind us an’ stay there til the fight’s over, ‘kay?”

Legend looks like he wants to protest but a sudden snarl sends him scurrying for the closest trunk. Wind ducks a blow and watches him clamber up surprisingly quickly to crouch on a large branch with his uninjured hand over his mouth and the other tucked to his chest.

The sailor takes that as his cue to start slashing at the monsters surrounding him. He dodges one and stabs another before rolling to avoid a spear jabbing into the ground where his leg was a moment before.

He jumps and slashes, stabs and rolls, all the while doing his best to keep the monsters away from the tree where his little brother is hiding.

A lizalfos keeps him busy for a few minutes before he manages to cut its tail off, making it shriek and flail. Wind finishes it off with a stab through the chest.

Then it’s just a few more bokoblins, thankfully none of which are black-blooded. He manages to take them down relatively quickly while avoiding serious injury himself before turning to check on the rest of his brothers and catch his breath.

Time is engaged with a moblin from Wild’s time on the other side of the path. He seems to be doing fine- with a swing of his sword he lops off one of its arms then bisects it as it howls.

Twilight and Warriors are tag-teaming a pack of bokoblins. One darts in to distract while the other strikes from the side or behind. Together they make quick work of the monsters before turning to find more opponents.

Similarly, Four and Wild are wreaking havoc nearby - Wind winces as he hears the by-now-familiar sound of a sword shattering and Four yelling.

He can’t find Hyrule but he does see Sky, slicing through monster after monster with deadly efficiency.

Soon all the monsters are nothing but dust and the heroes move to regather in the center of the path. Injuries are made note of to take care of once they make camp unless they’re urgent; Wind himself only has a few minor scrapes and bruises, thanks to that darn lizalfos.

He turns back to the tree where Legend is still hiding, holding out his arms with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “All th’ monsters are gone. D’ya want help gettin’ down?”

A nod. Legend shuffles to the edge of the branch and lets his legs dangle over the side, looking apprehensively between the ground and where Wind stands waiting, biting his lip. The sailor is patient and waits for him to make up his mind, knowing the other boy never does well when pushed. After a minute Legend shoves himself off the branch, making Wind yelp and nearly dive to catch him before he hits the ground. He holds his little brother close to his chest as he tries to catch his breath, feeling him cling back just as tightly.

“Let’s um- l-let’s not do tha’ again... yeah?”

Wind feels him nod shakily, pressing closer and gripping at his shirt as he trembles.

Wars calls over from where he’s doing after-battle checks. “Wind, you okay over there?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, all good!” He hefts the small body in his arms only to freeze at a sudden pained yelp. “Woah woah, what’s wrong?!”

Legend whimpers and tries to push away, forcing Wind to hold him tighter so he doesn’t drop him. He lets out another pained noise and Wind suddenly remembers the sound he made when the moblin dropped him. He curses and hurries back to where their brothers wait, looking worried.

“Wars, can ya take a look at ‘is arm? He hurt it real bad when th’ moblin dropped ‘im.”

The Captain is already hurrying over, medical bag in hand.

“Set him down, let me see,” he demands as he gets closer. Wind goes to obey but Legend won’t let go. Instead, he presses closer despite his earlier attempts to get down. The nearer Wars draws the more Legend tries his best to meld into Wind’s torso.

The sailor eventually elects to just sit down and hold him in his lap. He wraps his arms around the smaller boy, tight enough to keep him from wriggling away but loose enough he’s not squishing him.

Legend quiets but continues to watch Warriors warily. As the older hero kneels down before them Wind feels him press back against his chest as though trying to hide.

Wars moves slowly and gently, obviously trying not to upset him any further. He doesn’t touch Legend; instead he says softly, “Hey there, bud. Wind told me you hurt your arm when you fell. Is it alright if I take a look at it?”

Legend takes a shaky breath and hesitantly nods. He doesn’t move, though. Wars stays where he is, waiting for him to decide what he wants to do.

It takes another minute before Legend slowly, slowly extends his left arm towards Warriors. The captain gently takes his wrist to inspect it, politely ignoring the flinch it causes. He pushes Legend’s sleeve back and moves his wrist back and forth a few times, pressing lightly to test the bones. Wind can see it beginning to swell already and suppresses a wince.

“It’s broken, alright,” is the diagnosis.

Wars reaches into his bag and pulls out a roll of bandages to wrap Legend’s wrist with, telling him what he’s doing the whole time in a soft voice. He pauses to grab a sturdy stick, breaks it in half, and uses that to hold the limb in place. Then he finishes wrapping it, taking care to keep his movements slow.

For his part, Wind does his best to keep his little brother calm - keeping his arms around him in a hug, rubbing his uninjured arm, even pressing a kiss to his hair when he lets out a muffled whimper at the pain. He thinks it helps.

When he finishes wrapping Legend’s wrist Wars pulls out a red potion and instructs him to sip it slowly. When it’s about halfway empty he takes it back and hands it to Wind, who downs it without complaint. “We’ll leave your wrist wrapped for now, let the potion do it’s job. I’ll check on it again tomorrow, okay?”

He waits for Legend to nod before standing and making his way back to the others. Sky immediately takes his place, looking over first Legend and then Wind worriedly. She doesn’t crowd, though, well aware of Legend’s dislike of it.

“We’re alright, Sky,” Wind reassures. “Wars took care of it.”

“I know,” she sighs, moving to sit next to them. “I’m just worried. That was scary.”

Wind nods. It was really scary; seeing Legend in the hands of that moblin, watching him fall, the crack! as his wrist broke... the fact he’d hardly made a noise the entire time...

It’s a relief when the call to get moving comes. Wind stumbles to his feet and moves to hand Legend over to Sky only for the boy to cling to his shirt with a whine. Exchanging a glance with Sky, he tries again but Legend only clings tighter, burying his head against his collarbone.

“Come on, let’s go!” Twilight calls. “We’re gunna try ta get as far as we can afore it gets dark!”

With Legend clinging to Wind like a limpet he shares one last look with Sky before following after the rest of their brothers.

Thankfully it seems the fight will be the only excitement for the day. The rest of the walk is quiet- well, as quiet as it gets with a group like theirs, anyway.

More than once Wind is asked, mostly jokingly, if he’d rather let someone else carry Legend. He just huffs and continues walking.

“I do have a little sister, y’know,” he reminds them. “I can carry a kid for a while.” Besides, Legend chose him, he’s his responsibility!

He catches Twilight pouting at that but gracefully decides not to mention it. The Rancher will get his turn when he gets his turn, no need to whine about it.

Everyone is still a little wound up from the fight, so instead of stopping for lunch like they’d planned Wild hands out skewers to eat as they walk. Wind eats his fish skewer in record time so he can hold the fruit skewer Wild pulled out for Legend.

It’s eaten slowly, interrupted by the occasional sniffle. Wind doesn’t judge him for it; a broken wrist is nothing to laugh at, especially at his age.

—————————

By the time they call it a day Wind’s arms and shoulders are sore. Carrying a kid for so long is no easy feat, but he’d refused to give in and hand Legend over to someone else, only shifting him to his other hip to give his arm a break. The kid in question had fallen asleep sometime after lunch, resting his head on Wind’s shoulder and his hair tickling his cheek.

Camp is made in a clearing a little ways off the path. Wind drops down on a log with a sigh, ready to rest after such a long day. Sky joins him with a yawn and Wind muffles a laugh.

“How is he?” the older hero asks quietly, glancing at Legend where he’s curled into the sailor’s shoulder.

“I think th’ fight an’ everythin’ wore ‘im out,” he murmurs back. “Breakin’ his wrist didn’t help either.” A though occurs to him then and he straightens to look at his brother.

“Sky, earlier when Wars came over an’ set his wrist...” he begins slowly. “Lege got all scared. I-I know he doesn’t like knights- um, big Lege that is. Do you... d’you think it’s somethin’ he remembers from when he was bigger, or-?”

He doesn’t want to finish, doesn’t want to consider what the alternative might mean.

Sky pales as the implication of Wind’s words hit him. “I- I don’t know-”

He’s interrupted by the subject of their conversation stirring awake, blinking open bleary violet eyes. There’s a moment before those eyes settle on Sky. Legend stares for a heartbeat before lifting his hand and giving a small wave.

Sky returns it then clears his throat. “Hey, chick, can I... can I ask you something?”

Legend blinks but nods. Sky gives a wan smile.

“Alright. This... this is a hard question, so don’t force yourself to answer it, okay?” Another nod, this one less sure. “Okay. Wind told me you got scared when Warriors fixed up your wrist earlier. Can you- could you tell me why?”

Legend takes a sharp intake of breath, opening and closing his mouth a few times before biting his lip and shoving his face against Wind’s chest.

“Hey, hey, you don’t have to answer that if it’s too hard. It’s okay-”

“I don’t like knights,” comes the answer, quiet but capturing everyone’s attention nonetheless. “They chase me. They’re bad.” A sniffle. “They used t’ be good but then A-Agahnim cast a spell that made them think I ki-kidnapped th’ pr’ncess even though I didn’t. Th-they didn’t listen when I told them I didn’t do it. Zelda an’ me fixed it after I beat Ganon bu’ then Yuga came an’ made ‘em bad again.”

Wind feels like he’s going to be sick. He knew his brother held a strong distaste for knights, but to know this was why... He swallows and looks away only to see his own horror reflected back at him on his brothers’ faces.

Warriors especially looks stricken.

“This... Agahnim... is he still-? What happened to him?” Time asks. His face has that pinched look it gets when he’s trying not to let his anger get the better of him.

Legend’s voice is numbed and dull when he replies. “He’s dead. I killed him.”

There’s a choking sound. “I- I’m sorry, you what? How old were you?!” Wars sounds almost desperate, like he’s begging the answer won’t be what he thinks it is.

Any hope he has is dashed to pieces when Legend answers, face unnervingly empty.

“Nine.”

#moth’s tales #linked universe #lu legend #snail #fanfiction #linked universe fanfiction #linked universe au #lu wind #autistic legend #lu the chain #lu sky #lu warriors

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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 7 months

Text

untitled zoro x reader WIP

working on this long one shot. I know it's going to be a zoro x reader.

Reader is an ex-marine who happens to be Luffy's nonbiological older sister. She hadn't seen the crew since Alabasta and last seen Luffy at marineford - where she betrayed her duties to help him escape. Now, years later, she's reappeared and has come to see Luffy. In Alabasta, Zoro and her had a fling...a budding romance and maybe there is something still there....

this is what I have so far. please leave feedback and comment if you want to be tagged once it's done!

There was a cold breeze coming from the west as you crossed the dock; body so tired, it was ready to collapse right on the planks below you. Casting glances among the various ships docked, your eyes pinned to the one furthest from the shore. Having never seen the ship in person, you strode with sudden urgency because it was right there – he was so close. Boots echoed against the ocean silence as you finally stood in front of the Sunny. So magnificent against the moonlight and a great smile pulled from the corner of your mouth. Now, all you had to do was get on the ship. “Well, shit.”

Several of the Straw hats slept soundly on the grass knoll of the ship; the vessel rocking them into an endless lull as Nico Robin stood watch above in the crow’s nest. It was her turn, and everyone had been star gazing after a night of drinking. The only ones that made it to their actual beds were Nami and Chopper – the rest lay sprawled on the grass. Robin was focused in on a book she was reading by candlelight when she heard boots echoing from what seemed like the sea, but when she stood up to get a better look – a shadowy figure was mounting at the side of the ship. Curious, Robin watched with soft but focused eyes until she crossed her arms and whispered fleur; clutch. The would be stow away didn’t startle or yell as Robin’s hands formed a chain like express, bringing the person right into eye view. Once the light of the moon fell onto the captive’s face, Robin gave way to a small but satisfied smile. “Well, what a surprise.”

You sighed but gave the archaeologist a grin. “Mind putting me down?”

She just nodded and gently floated you down onto the lower deck; the bottom of your boots quietly hitting the deck. Kneeling to catch yourself, hands pressed firmly onto the ground. Staying in position, you looked around the faces and spotted the man you came for – the one you had traveled so far to get to. Heart racing, you got up and tip toed around the others; eyes lingering on the vice-captain. He was sleeping against one of the trees and you couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t who you came for, no, the man you were looking for was sleeping a few feet away. Moving past the second in command, you finally stood over the captain of the Straw Hat crew. Kneeling beside him, your hand wavered over his cheek, and you smiled sadly at the sleeping man – no, boy, he would always be a boy to you. He looked so peaceful in slumber, and you hesitated before touching his cheek. Luffy stirred as your devil fruit power surged through him but then he settled with a smile on his face.

“What the hell are you doing to my captain?”

The voice was stern, venom filled and familiar. Removing your hand from Luffy, you hoisted to your feet and turned to face Roronoa Zoro. He couldn’t hide the sheer shock in his eyes as you smiled headily at him, trying to drive down the nerves. Sheathing his sword, he just stared until he could form words.

“We thought you were dead.”

Right.

“I was.” You laughed but he just stared. “I flatlined. That’s what I was told but by whatever gods are out there, I was revived. I wanted to come see Luffy sooner but you guys sure make it hard to track you all down. Plus, honestly, there was a lot of shit I had to do before I could get here.”

Zoro seemed to relax with your answer and asked what you were doing to Luffy. The smile faded from your face, and he looked down at his feet when you told him you were making him dream. “Memories of us as kids with our brothers. I wanted him to be happy.”

“You ate a devil fruit?”

“I did…I can explain this all later…” you promised, eyes moving back toward your little brother. “I want him to rest, mind offering me something to drink. Preferably sake?”

The last word brought an eager smile to Zoro’s face, and he motioned for you to follow him to what you presumed was the kitchen. He walked in first and turned the lights on, telling you to take a seat as he fetched two cups and a bottle from the fridge. As you sat at the dining table, your body seemed to collapse into itself – the traveling had finally gotten to you but then Zoro placed a cup of sake in front of you and everything seemed slightly better. Sitting across from you, the swordsman explained how your vivre card had burned out a year ago and how much of a mess Luffy was. The thought made you tear up and Zoro quickly refilled your cup, uncomfortable, as always, with any signs of emotions. Thanking him, you downed it and dived into where you had been for the few years.

“The last time we had seen each other was after I left you guys in Alabasta, right? God, that seems like so long ago. I-I had a tough time after Ace died.” A quietness fell between the two of you, eyes on your hands. It was a turning point in your life. “I got in real trouble for helping Luffy that day, but I couldn’t just watch my brothers like that. I couldn’t…I had to fight with Luffy, I didn’t care that I was a marine.”

The word marine came out in a hushed whisper, a shame casted your eyes. Zoro just leaned back and listened – he was always a good listener, mostly. Not so much with directions but he understood honor – he got that much. “Then that…asshole killed Ace right in front of Luffy. My kid brother, I couldn’t believe my eyes. All I felt was a burning rage and just had to get him out of there. Our grandpa held me back once I helped Luffy escape. He was afraid to lose another kid, but I got reckless afterwards.”

“You were angry.”

You nodded. “I was furious. Everything I had thought I was – a good marine, a good person, none of it made sense. I started acting out, even after I was given a second chance to redeem my status. I was Garp’s granddaughter! He is a legend, but I was out for blood. I became too reckless with my own life and that’s when it happened….”

“You died. How?”

On a mission, you recounted. “I was fatally wounded. I should have died. I wanted to die.”

Zoro’s eyes faltered for a moment, and you thought he was going to reach out for your hand, but he didn’t so you went on. “I was shot right in the chest. My grandpa was there, and I died in his arms. I remember him shouting for me to be strong, to hang on and then I remember seeing Ace. Sabo wasn’t there and I was panicking because I didn’t know where he was. He should have been there…. The last thing I remember was Ace’s kind smile. I woke up later in a hospital room.”

#roronoa zoro #zoro x reader

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angry-trashcan · 10 months

Text

Why Are You Here?!

I came up with this idea of the chain just kinda... showing up in my living room. How I, and them, would react to this and the strange amount of Zelda merch in my room. I'm challenging others to write something similar! How would you react if they showed up in your living room? Tag me if you do!

2.2K WC

I looked up from my laptop at the loud thud. My eyes rolled, probably just my dog getting into something. I started to call her name when I noticed her laying at the end of the bed. Her own attention pointed to the closed bedroom door. What the fuck.

I pushed my laptop to the side and slowly got off the bed. I heard a voice come from the other side of the door, a deep man’s voice. Who the fuck is in my house?! I reached for my bag and scrambled through it until I found my pepper spray and opened my pocket knife with the other hand. My breathing was heavy as I went towards the door. Putting my ear against it, I listened for a minute.

“What kind of place is this?!” Was that another man?! How many are there?!

“Maybe some kind of weird dungeon? Could be some kind of trick.” Another one. I shuffled back to my bed and dug around for my phone. Fuck that, I’m calling 911.

“Imma look around, see if there’s somethin’ else to this place.” Another deep voice that had a too familiar accent too my own. Good to know at least that one’s a local. The bedroom doorknob turned and I turned back towards it, my dog standing to her feet. The pepper spray stayed in my shaky right hand and knife in my left, blade back just like I’ve always been told.

“Ivy, stay.” I whispered to the dog, hoping that for once in her fucking life she would listen. The door opened and a man stepped through, scraggily hair, face tattoos and a bit taller than myself. I screamed, pressing down on the pepper spray aimed at his face. He screamed next.

I paced the living room, looking at the men who were sitting amongst the couches and kitchen chairs. “No, I just don’t understand any of this.”

“And you think we do?” Legend hissed. He really does have an attitude problem.

“Did I fuckin’ say ya did?!”

“Okay, let’s just try to take a deep breath. Where exactly are we?” Warriors asked, and damn if his jawline wasn’t great in person.

“Texas.” I answer bluntly, my pacing not stopping.

“Okay, where is ‘Texas’?” Four, (bless his short little heart, only comes up to my stomach) put air quotes around the word.

“The United States, North America, South of Canada and North of Mexico.” They looked between each other.

“It seems like we have landed far, far from Hyrule.” Time spoke for the first time, his hand resting on his chin. “This is gonna be a fun one, boys.”

I looked to him, then Twilight next to him on the couch, still pouring milk into his eyes. I grimaced again at the thought of the pepper spray. I guess it’s better than if I had stabbed him. Ivy, my dog, was laying across his feet and licking Wild’s face who sat on the ground.

“We are terribly sorry for the intrusion; we will be leaving here shortly.” Time explained, standing to his feet.

I shook my head, laughing lightly. “Where do you plan to go?”

He seemed confused by that, “What do you mean? To an inn until we find the meaning for us being dropped here.”

“There’s no inns here. The closest hotel would be over thirty miles away.” Not to mention it being over 105 degrees and straight highway to get there. If they would even accept rupees as payment.

Time looked to Warriors, “What do you propose we do?”

“We can find somewhere to camp I would guess. That is all we can do.”

“You can stay here.” Everyone, even Twilight with his bloodshot eyes, looked at me. I suddenly felt the weight of those words. “I- I know there’s not much room but y’all can’t really go anywhere else. And it’s far too hot to camp.”

“We wouldn’t want to be a burden.” Hyrule says from next to me, oh gods his voice sounds like angels.

I shook my head again, “It’s no burden. I was going to start cooking soon for myself so I’ll just…” I looked around the room to the… ten? Men and boys and then to the fridge, “make more.”

“I’ll help!” Wild pipped up. I thanked him before turning to my room.

“Just give me like, five minutes, and I’ll be back out.” Nods came around as I closed the door behind me. My fake smile instantly fell the second my eyes reached the wall above my bed. Three Zelda posters, a Master Sword hung on display, a TOTK figure, art and so much more. What the fuck am I supposed to do with all of this?! Climbing up on my bed I started trying to take down the sword first, that would be the hardest to explain arguably.

“Hey, whatcha doin’?” A younger voice came from behind me. I blew the hair out of my face before looking back, Wind staring at me. My hands were on the sword, trying to take the screws out of the base holding it up.

“Uh…” I froze.

“Is- how do you-“ I jumped off the bed and ran to him, sword falling to the bed in the process.

“Shhh! Don’t say anything! It’s fake! It’s not even sharp!” I reached for the sword with one hand and pulled it up between us, letting him run his hand over it.

“Yeah, but. How do you have this?” His eyes fell behind me to the wall before they widened. “Is that-“ I looked back to where he was looking. To my Wind Waker poster. FUCK. HOW THE FUCK- “That’s so cool!” He screeched, dropping the sword into my hands and rushing to the wall, hands framing his own picture between them. “Damn! I look so cool here!”

“What’s going on in here?” Sky poked his head in, looking between you and Wind.

“Not-“

“Come look at this, Sky! They have a fake Master Sword and a picture of me on the wall! And, is that- is that Sage?!” Sky came into the room, eyes getting wide at the sword in my hands before going to Wind.

“That does look like Sage, huh? Strange.”

“Hey, Bailey? Can you come here for a second?” A voice called from the living room. I groaned internally before putting the sword on the bed, covering it with a blanket. Getting back in the living room and Sage and Wild were taking particular interest in a picture on the wall.

“So, uh, not gonna ask how you have this. But you got the hots for me or something?” Sage’s flat voice threw me off, getting me to shake my head.

“I’m sorry, what?”

He pointed at the picture he and Wild were staring at and, oh. It was a fairly large portrait of the art Lucifer, redone to be Sage. My only response was an awkward laugh before I felt a tap on my back. Legend spoke, “Hey, why do you have a snake and lizard in glass cages? Are you some kind of witch or something?”

That somehow caught me even more off guard, “Uh, well yes. But no, not like that-“

“Where does it come from?!” Hyrule was poking the water button on the fridge, water spilling everywhere. “Is it some kind of enchantment?”

“How is the light coming from here without flames? Is the flame inside the glass?” Warriors tapped the light bulb on the fixture over the small table.

“What kind of food is this?” Twilight looked rolled the cosmic brownie over in his hand.

“OKAY!” I yelled out. It caught everyone’s attention. “Imma start cookin’. There’s a small creek just down the hill behind the house, can’t miss it. Why don’t y’all go down there and I’ll cook? Be back in about forty-five minutes.” A few murmurs as they filed out the door. “Thank you!” I called out, closing the door behind it and leaning against it. “Fuck.”

“It’s a lot.” Wild’s voice made me snap my head up.

“I thought you would have gone with them.”

“I told you I would help cook.”

I smiled, “Thank you, Wild.” I looked out the window over the kitchen sink and saw that they had successfully made it to the creek before I stepped outside myself. “I just need a few things from the garden.” I left the door open for him to follow. I quickly picked some peppers and basil and shoved it into my shirt. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he picked one of the peppers and ate it. Those bitches are spicy just like that. How did he not even react? Is he that numb to spice from that damn goron spice?!

I tried to ignore it, putting all of the ingredients on the counter. He closed the door, tying his hair up higher as he came up next to me. Gods he looked so cute like that. They should have given him more hair up options in the game-

“So, what are we making?” He smiled, looking to the collection of food laid out.

“I’m thinking just pasta and some garlic bread. I wasn’t really expecting guests so that’s all I have enough of to make.”

He nodded, “I don’t know how to make either of those things but I bet I can figure it out!”

I laughed, turning on the stove top and letting the fire start boiling a pot of water. “It’s not too hard. When this water starts boiling, pour this box in there.”

He took the box of dried pasta from my hand, nodding. “I think I can do that.”

“I believe in you.”

Dinner cooked quick and Wild ate a few too many of the peppers. So, I had to send him back out to get more as I made the sauce. I noticed the rest of the group coming back up the hill through the window as I started getting plates out. The chain settled around the too-small table and couches as Wild and I handed them their food. They were still laughing about something that had happened on their little outing as they ate. I stood quietly, starting to eat my own when Twilight patted his own chair at the table.

“It’s only fair ya get a seat at ya own table. You did cook the food.” He laughed.

I shook my head, “Nah, it’s alright, really. Y’all are guests.”

He rolled his eyes, coming and taking my plate from my hands and putting it on the table. “Sit down. You ain’t sat down since we got here.”

I rolled my own eyes back, but sat down. “You’re more persistent than a bobcat, I swear.”

“Well, I wouldn’t hafta be if you weren’t as stubborn as a goat in the summer.”

Four looked to Legend next to him, mouth full of bread, “Do you have any idea what they’re saying?” He whispered.

“Not a damn clue.”

With dishes in the sink for a future me problem and sleeping arrangements situated I went to my room, calling Ivy in with me. I explained how to the toilet works before closing the door, taking a deep breath. A cough behind me pulled me from thoughts. Can I get a moment of peace? I turned to see Sage, standing next to the air mattress in the room. How could I forget one of them had to sleep in here?

“I know, I’m ‘bout to turn out the light and we can get to sleep.” I walked towards my own bed, pushing the still hidden sword further into the blankets.

“It’s not that. I’m just wondering why you have writing about us on that screen thing there.”

What.

“What are you talking about?”

“That thing right there on the bed.” He pointed to my still very open laptop, which had been plugged in. And open on Linked Universe fanfic I had been writing. How can he even read that?!

“I-“ I looked to him, then to the laptop, then back to him. “How can you read that?” Let’s just ask.

“Don’t worry. It seems like I’m the only one who can read your language for some reason. It’s kinda comical. I’m still very confused. But it’s somewhat endearing.” He sat on the air mattress, looking down at it under him when it moved more than he expected.

“Well, I’m glad you think so. Please don’t tell the others.” I sat on my own bed, hands folding in my lap.

He laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, they’d probably freak and ask more questions. I’m okay with leaving it be.”

“Thank you, Sage. I appreciate that.” I smiled lightly. “I am, however, going to sleep. My ten favorite video game characters coming to life and showing up in my house was a lot for one day.” I laid back against my pillows, turning off the lamp in the process. Darkness fell over the room. I heard him shuffling into his air mattress before silence fell. I almost thought he was asleep when he spoke.

“So, you do have the hots for me?”

“GOODNIGHT.”

(NEXT)

#this is just crack #but it sO FUN #linked universe #lu #linked universe headcanons #lu headcanons #linked universe fanfic #lu sky #lu time #lu hyrule #lu twilight #lu wild #lu legend #lu warriors #lu wind #lu sage #lu four

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joes-sha-la-la-la-girl · 9 days

Text

Something New

Joe Elliott x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: This fic is pure filth and contains light bondage, smut, Sub!Joe and many other explicit things. + 18 ONLY MINORS DNI. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with this sort of thing. This is something very new for me so any comments would be much appreciated. Thank you to everyone who has encouraged me, you all know who you are. A lot of the ideas for this fic came from conversations with @elliotts-personal-property and she greatly influenced this fic so lets all thank Kris. 💖💖💖

This is a long one (around 3k words)

I knew as soon as I saw the concept of the video what me and Joe would be doing that evening. Watching him get chained up for the ‘Foolin’’ music video caused an idea to stir in my head.

Throughout the entire time filming, I couldn’t get the idea of Joe tied up helplessly out of my head. The way he was thrashing his head around as he sang along to his own lyrics was exciting me in a way that only Joe could manage.

I’m not sure if Joe could tell what I was thinking but if he could then he didn’t show it on his face. Between each take he ran over to me and flashed me that gorgeous smile of his. Unintentionally riling me up more. Despite the innocent look of his face, I knew him to be anything but and the way he kept glancing at me even whilst filming was making me count down the minutes until we could get home.

Eventually when the day had finished, Joe and I finally went home. I could tell that the poor boy was exhausted and that was enough to almost deter me from my plan. Almost. However, the groan he made when he collapsed onto the sofa was enough for me to want to drag him to the bedroom.

Walking up behind him, I leant over the back of the couch and started rubbing his shoulders, causing his head to roll around, almost like it had earlier. Hearing him groan again caused me to smirk as I pressed a gentle kiss against his neck. When I felt him release a shuddering breath I grinned again.

“That feel nice love?” I asked as I nibbled slightly on his earlobe.

“Mhm.” Joe moaned out. Letting go of him I made my way around the couch.

Sitting on his lap, I grabbed his face gently in my hands and pressed my lips to his, causing his eyes to go wide in shock. It didn’t take long for him to kiss back, putting his hands on my waist and dragging my hips down onto his. I could feel him harden underneath me. Deciding to add fuel to the already burning fire between us, I pushed my tongue into his mouth, dominating the kiss.

No matter how much he tried to take control again, I continued down the path I was on. When I pulled away for air, I saw him try and chase my lips for a second. When he opened his eyes I saw the beautiful green-blue colour staring back at me.

“Wanna take this upstairs?” I asked him, the smirk never falling off of my face. Joe just nodded at me and let me grab his hand to lead him through to the bedroom. When we got there I gently pushed Joe onto the bed. Climbing back into his lap, one of my hands found itself in his hair, whilst the other rested gently on his cheek.

Rubbing my thumb over his lips that were now slightly swollen I made sure that I had his full attention.

“I wanna try something new tonight.” I told him softly but so that he could still hear me.

“How new?” He asked with a still slightly dazed expression.

“Very new. I wanna tie you up.” I told him as I maintained eye contact. I watched him gulp as he looked up at me.

“What?” He finally questioned.

“After seeing you all tied up today for the video, it gave me a few ideas of my own.” I told him as I gently brushed my thumb against his dimple. “Is that okay?”

Joe nodded as he stared at me.

“Words baby boy.”

“Yes.” Joe whispered. As soon as the word left his mouth my lips found his. Trailing down the side of his face to his neck, I started gently grinding my hips against his again. I couldn’t help the small giggle I released when I heard him whimper.

There was something about having him so vulnerable underneath me, willing to be tied up that made me tingle inside. Slowly standing up I heard Joe whine again and I gently shushed him as I made my way to the wardrobe. Pulling out a few of Joe’s ties that he had hardly ever worn, I turned back and made my way towards him.

I moved my hands to the bottom of Joe’s shirt and gently tugged it over his head. The view of him shirtless had always made me shiver but I tried to contain it. Carefully I pushed him down so he was laying on the bed and helped him adjust so that his head was on the pillow.

“Arms up sweetheart.” I told him with a slightly stern tone. I didn’t want to scare him when I was about to put him in a vulnerable position, but he needed to know that I was in charge.

With only a little hesitance, Joe lifted his arms up so that they rested against the headboard. I didn’t waste any time straddling him so that I could tie his hands together. Leaning over so I could reach meant that my breasts were directly in Joe’s face. Knowing how much he loved them, I took my time so that I could tease him a bit. He took a sharp intake of breath and I knew that my plan was working.

When I had finished tying the knot, I checked to make sure it wasn’t too tight before manoeuvring my way back down his body. Kissing in the middle of his chest, I trailed my lips down his body feeling him squirm slightly.

When I got down to the waistband of his jeans, I kissed over his clothed bulge. When he bucked his hips I moved away and looked up at him.

“Not yet Joe.” I told him as I stood up to grab the other ties.

When I climbed up onto the bed again, I slowly made my way back to Joe’s jeans, tugging them and his underwear down his legs. As I did so, I made sure to tease him a little by softly running my fingernails as I went. When I finally got the clothing off, I stared at my boyfriend completely naked on the bed, with his hands tied above his head.

As I looked over at him, it was at that exact moment I found myself extremely thankful for the posts at the bottom of the bed. Gently grasping one of his ankles, I secured it to the bedpost before leaving a peck on the skin there. Moving over, I gave the other foot the same treatment, seeing Joe squirm slightly in his bonds.

Grinning at him I started to make my way back up his body, leaving kisses as I did. The feeling of him moving underneath me made me wetter.

“Please.” Joe whimpered as he fluttered his eyelashes in my direction.

“Please what Joe?” I asked, teasing him further.

“Please touch me.” He breathed out. Deciding to take the teasing one step further I started placing my finger on different parts of his body.

“Here?” I moved my hand, “Or here?” With a grin I carried on a few times, revelling in his whines. “Be specific sweetheart.”

“Y/N please.” Joe spoke through his heavy breaths. “I need you to touch me there.”

It wasn’t like Joe to get desperate like that so I decided not to push my luck anymore and instead place my hand on his cock. Wrapping my hand around him I very slowly started to move my hand up and down. Not enough to trigger anything but enough to keep him hard.

“It’s not fair.” Joe whined, tugging on his restraints.

“What's not fair?” I asked him, acting clueless.

“I’m naked and you’re not.”

“Is this not enough?” I asked him as I gave him a little squeeze causing him to gasp and screw his eyes shut. When he didn’t answer I squeezed again.

“No please, I wanna see you.” He cried out.

“You sure? You’re not even looking at me.” I answered. Immediately he opened his eyes and looked directly at me. “Good boy.” I smiled when I saw his pretty eyes again. The whine that he released was music to my ears.

Slowly I removed my shirt and dropped it to the floor without breaking eye contact with him. I could see Joe gulp and start to squirm more in his restraints. Leaving my bra on I moved off of the bed and discarded my jeans in the same slow and teasing manner. Climbing back on top of him, I sat on Joe’s thighs and placed my hands on his bare hips.

I scratched my nails against his skin, not hard enough to leave a mark but with enough pressure to cause goosebumps to rise on the skin beneath.

Taking my time, I edged my way around to the front of his pelvis and ran my thumb down his happy trail. Tracing the line of hair there had caused yet another whimper and a buck of his hips. I pushed his hips back down again before removing my hands altogether.

Joe furrowed his brow at the loss of contact which just made him look adorable.

“What's the matter Joe?” I asked with a faux pout.

“I need you please.” He whimpered.

“Need me to do what? Beg for what you need Joe.” I told him, refusing to put my hands back until he did as I said.

“Please Y/N I need you to touch me again. I need to have your hands on my cock please.” The neediness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed so I placed one hand on his cock as the other started to gently rub his hip again.

With the hand that I had on him, I lazily started stroking him up and down. I could tell how turned on the poor boy was by the precum that started to leak from the tip. Rubbing my thumb over the top of his erection, I spread the precum around a little, revelling in every noise the man underneath me made.

It was painfully obvious that Joe needed to relinquish the control for once.

“You’ve been so stressed with the album haven't you?” I asked him, pouting again. Joe nodded at me in response.

“I know it's hard to think right now but I need you to use your words baby boy.”

“Yes.” Joe moaned as I gave him a gentle squeeze. His eyes fell shut again but he quickly remembered himself and snapped them open again. I smiled down at him as I started to quicken the pace that my hand was going.

It wasn’t long before I saw the tell tale signs of his orgasm so I quickly took my hand away. Joe stared at me as he choked back a sob.

“Why… Why did you stop?” He asked as his breathing increased into a pant. Tears threatening to fall at any moment. I leant down so that I could nibble at his neck and earlobe

“Patience sweetheart, you have all night to come.” I whispered in his ear, enjoying the shiver that I caused. Joe let out a deep breath as he tried to move his arms.

“Where are you going?” I asked him as he immediately stopped his squirming at my voice.

“I’m sorry.” He whimpered.

“Don’t be sorry sweetheart just relax, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” I told him as I ran my thumb against his cheek.

I felt Joe relax underneath me again as I pressed butterfly kisses to the side of his face and neck. I sat up again and removed my bra before getting up once more to remove my underwear.

This time when I climbed back on top of him, I sat on his stomach instead of his thighs and I leant down straight away to press a kiss to his lips. I felt him kiss back straight away which encouraged me more. He was so responsive to every touch I was giving him.

Pulling away from him again I smiled as he chased my lips but couldn’t get very far because of his tied hands.

“Patience, love, I’ll give you what you need in a minute.” I cooed at him as I shifted my body upwards slightly so I was hovering on my knees. Reaching down, I grabbed his throbbing erection and held it up.

Rubbing the tip through my folds, I ignored the urge to just sink straight down. In all the teasing that I had been giving Joe, I was teasing myself as well. Joe whined and tugged on his restraints again.

“Give me a second baby boy, just lay still and let me take care of you.”

I watched Joe nod his head, tears starting to fall from his eyes. Leaning forward I wiped them away. “Are you okay sweetheart? Is this too much?” I asked him softly. For a moment I thought I might’ve taken it too far. However, the fear was quickly squashed when Joe shook his head.

“No it’s not too much, it just feels really good ‘s’all” Joe whispered. I kissed him again before sitting up once more.

“As long as you are sure?” I asked him one more time.

“I’m sure Y/N/N.”

With that confirmation, I moved my hand back to his erection and lifted it up again, This time lining it up and slowly sinking down. The groan he let out was one of the most beautiful sounds to ever leave his mouth as I engulfed him with my warmth.

“Fuck Joe, you’re huge.” I moaned out, still slowly moving downwards. No matter how many times we had been together, his size never failed to shock me. I watched a small smile spread across Joe’s face at my praise but it didn’t last long.

When I was finally seated I grinned my hips against his, causing a gasp to fall from his swollen lips. An idea came to the forefront of my mind as I adjusted my hips slightly. Joe’s face scrunched up again and I saw him tug once more on the tie that kept his hands away from me. When I didn’t make a move to start Joe choked out another groan.

“What are you doing love?” He asked as he tried to move his hips into mine.

“I’m just a little tired sweet boy, so I’m just gonna sit here for a minute or two, is that alright?” I questioned him, hiding my smirk. When he didn’t answer straight away I clenched around him.

“Yeah.” Joe breathed out.

“Good boy.”

Sitting as still as I could, I allowed myself to clench every so often just enough to tease him and keep him on edge. I could see the impatience fill his eyes as he looked at me, waiting for me to allow him a little more relief.

Placing my hands flat on his stomach in front of me, I started to caress his slightly sweaty skin. I could feel the muscle underneath my fingertips contract as he tried to remain as still as possible.

“I don’t know Joe, I might just sit here like this all night. I’m rather comfy and enjoying the view.” I told him as I sat myself back slightly and placed my hands on his thighs behind me. I saw the worry flush his face slightly.

“No, please Y/N, please move, I need more love, please.” Joe begged looking panicked. Leaning forward I put a reassuring smile on my face.

“Don’t worry, my love.” I smiled as I moved one hand to his cheek. “I’ll give you what you need.”

Adjusting one final time, I sat back up straight and slowly started to lift my hips up. I repeated this action, lifting then lowering my body on top of his, unable to resist digging my nails in slightly at the pleasure of it all.

The noises that Joe was making were like our own personal melody that no one else had the pleasure of hearing. Joe had an extremely strong voice but the idea that I was the one inducing those moans was almost enough to tip me over the edge.

“Shit Joe.” I breathed out as the pleasure started to overtake my every sense. Joe was only babbling in response. The man had completely given up trying to escape his restraints and instead layed lax on the bed as he watched me move up and down on top of him.

Moving one hand back, I started playing with his balls as I bounced harder causing him to let out a loud whine.

“Can I come, please Y/N let me come.” Joe begged as tears of overstimulation began to well up in his eyes again. Keeping my movements going and using that hand that was on his balls, I started rubbing my clit in time with my bounces.

“Wait a minute sweetheart, I’m nearly there and we can come together.” Trying to get myself as close as possible I kept my motions up whilst continuing to look at Joe. Joe whines at my temporary denial of his orgasm but ultimately did as I said and held back.

When I was finally there myself I looked Joe directly in the eye.

“Come for me baby boy.”

Joe didn’t hesitate to let go and I felt myself fill up with his warmth. That sensation sent me over the edge and I came hard, letting out a scream as I did so.

I wasn’t sure how long our orgasms lasted but eventually I found myself collapsed on Joe’s chest, feeling his pants move my body up and down. It took a moment for me to recover but when I did, I pressed a soft kiss to Joe’s chest before sitting back up.

Climbing off of him, I winced at the empty sensation that suddenly washed over me. Immediately I leaned up and untied Joe’s wrists, leaning down to give him a kiss. Crawling down to his feet, I undid the knots and threw all the tines on the floor. Eventually, I ended up back beside Joe. Giving him another kiss, I brushed some of the hair out of his face.

“Are you okay?” I asked him softly as I looked into those beautiful green-blue eyes of his.

“More than.” He smiled at me, his eyelids drooping slightly.

��Let me just go get a cloth to clean us up alright?”

I hurried, as much as I could, to the bathroom across the hallway and grabbed two flannels, quickly cleaning myself up, I took the other flannel out of the bathroom with me. When I got back into our shared room I saw Joe still awake on the bed looking at me. I made my way over to him and helped him clean up, careful not to overstimulate him anymore than he already was.

Putting the dirty cloth into the washing bag in the corner of our room, I laid down on the bed next to Joe and covered us up with the duvet. Joe had his head between my bare breasts as I lovingly ran my fingers through his hair.

“Was all of that alright?” I asked him, wanting to confirm again that he enjoyed himself.

“Absolutely.” He told me with a sleepy grin. “Just what I needed after today actually.”

“Good, fancy doing it again sometime?”

“Definitely.”

#def leppard #joe elliott #joe elliott x reader #ellen's fic #joe elliott smut #joe elliott fanfiction #def leppard fanfiction #def leppard fanfic #joe elliott fanfic

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phantomenby · 2 years

Text

"Just one more"

Anonymous asked:

May I PLEASE 🙏 have some headcanons for Dwayne being absolutely whipped for the reader? Like when he holds your hand, kisses you neck...just all the ways he's dominant but in a super protective (sexy) and loving way 👁👁

why are the eye emojis so human they keep watching me while im writing this :(

It took Dwayne a while to approach you when he saw you out on the beach late at night, strolling while kicking at the sand beneath your sneakers

Your scent got to him first, savoury and rich.

Followed immediately by David trying to make a snack out of you before Dwayne yanked him back by his coat.

David choked as he was dragged back and away from the unsuspecting human which had wandered far out into the darkness and straight into his path.

Just as he was about to lunge at you he found his friend yanking on the collar of his coat and strangling him with the rugged cloth, turning with a growl he was expecting to be met with a good reason for the action when he was instead met with Dwayne's blown out eyes.

"Oh...OH!" Laughter erupted from the blonde as Dwayne fought to keep him quiet, slight embarrassment burning through him as David's mocking laughter grew louder and louder.

"Cut it out man they're gonna-"

The two vampires froze as they heard you pause, the chain that dangled on your belt jingling as you turned towards where they had begun wrestling on the other side of a sand dune.

When you resumed your movements Dwayne let out a sigh of relief, watching you walk back towards the road where you would be slightly safer before resuming his attack on his brother.

It didn't take long for him to finally suck up the courage to actually talk to you, seeing you had been one thing but oh boy, talking to you was a whole other ball park

And his packmates knew now, about you.

Thus leading to a constant barrage of teasing and playful bullying from them at every waking moment

"Oh, Paulie however will he cope?!" Marko fell against Paul's chest, hand pressed to his head as he swooned dramatically, "my love- please read some poetry til my mind turns to mush and I am forced to-"

"Hush my love-" Paul pressed a finger to Marko's lips, silencing him and cooing softly, "save your breath."

Across the cave Dwayne was watching on, slumped against the wall of the cave while David clapped encouragingly at the performance.

"Stop encouraging them."

David barked a laugh, waving the joint he had lit up in front of Dwaynes face, "never."

Three weeks later and he was taking you out to some cutesy little diner.

But you were perfect, dressed up in some flared jeans and shiny burgundy cowboy boots, with a fluffy denim jacket wrapped around you snugly.

If only Dwayne could get a fucking grip and look you in the eye.

It had been fifteen minutes. Fifteen long awkward minutes of fiddling with the menu while the man across from you looked around the diner like he was being held hostage.

I mean he is really cute, like really cute. But you had already dealt with him being twenty minutes late - something you would never know what due to Dwayne attempting to pussy out of the whole thing but being dragged here by Marko and David.

"Should we order?"

Dwayne's eyes flashed towards you, making you shuffle nervously in your seat.

When he didn't immediately respond you began again, chewing your lip as you mumbled out the words, "you know we don't have to do this, I can just go-"

"No!-" Dwayne cleared his throat, knowing if he had been human his skin would be cherry red with embarrassment. Looking you over he could tell how badly he must have sounded, practically shouting at you as you sat with wide eyes. "I- I just, I'm sorry I didn't mean to be such a prat I'm just not used to the whole slow dating thing..."

It was true, he wasn't. Most of the people he "dated" were either potential meals or someone to burn some energy off with. The last time he had even bothered to get close to someone was in the sixties and they ended up moving halfway across the planet after a month.

"Thats okay, I'm not great at it either," you sent him your sweetist smile, eyes shining where they could be seen peeking above the rims of your glasses, "though I doubt were gonna get graded, might as well just enjoy it." -

Your first 'date' together ended with the two of you walking around the boardwalk after sharing some fries and a milkshake.

It became a regular thing until the two of you became more comfortable with each other, finding that Dwayne preferred to come to your home or you to his when he finally revealed what he was.

With the acceptance of what he was, he became even clingier, always pressing himself to your side when you walked together, pressing his lips and nose against your skin to rub his scent in. And never ever letting you get away from him when you were in your nest together.

"Dwayne baby- Ah! Stop it!"

It was a good thing your neighbors were out of town, between the sounds of your boyfriend climbing up to your apartment and the screams of (mostly) glee that followed you sure they would have come knocking by now.

Dwayne didn't let you worry for long, pinning you to your soft couch and pressing his cool lips across your neck and shoulders roughly as his fingers teased your sides.

You tried to get him to stop, pushing against his chest and gasping out words in between breaths as your chest seized.

"Christ- have mercy!"

Laughing at your pleas he finally shifted his hands away from your plump waist, dragging one up to hold your flushed face while the other lay firmly on your soft hip.

"Given up so soon?" His mocking coo didn't help as you huffed at him, turning away from his lips as they descended upon you. Your decision was followed by a growl, as well as lips pressing to your jaw slowly.

The action made you shiver, warmth flowing through you as your cheeks heated oh so deliciously, Dwayne's eyes naturally darkening at the growing scent of your sweet blood rushing to your flesh.

"Oh, hun..."

Realising the predicament you were in you looked up at him, meeting his dark eyes with your own which widened in slight fear, encouraging him further as he descended back upon you.

#tlb #the lost boys #dwayne #david tlb #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x reader #dwayne tlb #the lost boys fic

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applesontheground · 2 years

Text

follow my lead ⛓️

so, i was going to wait to add this man onto my list because i have a few others along with that i wanted to ease into, but this was dire and i have decided i'm not going slow with him.

this is my first short take on the man himself, Rusty Nail! special thanks to @tinalbion and @bisexual-horror-fan for showing me the Joy Ride trilogy and calling me out when i got very quiet during certain parts.

NSFW | Word Count: 904 | Rusty Nail x GN!Reader

contains canon typical/mentions of violence, implied kidnapping + stockholm syndrome, praise kink, overstimulation, thigh riding

Sometimes, you would slip into reality and realize what you were doing. It was easy to feel the pleasure that Rusty had brought you, the unconventional turn of events that lead you to face his affections rather than the wrath, but at the same time you would sometimes glance out of the window of his truck and recall that this had at one point been a cabin of utmost terror. Terror that melted into excitement, maybe, but it all made you a little sick to the stomach to consider.

Unfortunately for you, you liked to keep quiet and you liked to follow directions. This lead the chain that was the man – like the one that hung from his wallet and lashed out like a vice to anyone who got too close – to hold onto you with a different kind of desire. The kind that didn’t leave you on the asphalt in five different sections.

He found those things out about you rather early. Maybe that was why you were seated in his lap instead of tied up behind the seat or kept out of sight on the floor of the cabin. You didn’t even know if that was how he normally treated people, because he sure wasn’t treating you like a normal person that he pulled off the road. A part of you reminded yourself that wasn’t necessarily a good thing, but his voice speaking up prevented you from thinking about it too hard.

“I tell you to stop?”

You shook your head, trying to pull your eyes away from the window and rekindle that itch that was being scratched from having your core dragged along his thigh. Head tipped down, you braced the side of the seat with one hand and kept grinding over the rough denim, letting it abuse the [soft skin of your cock/hot folds of your cunt] in a way that made your body lock up in a desperate urge to drown in the pain and the pleasure all the same.

“Need help forgettin’ about something?” He then asked, shifting slightly and trying not to laugh at how you quickly wobbled from the movement, “You still look a little distracted.”

“I-I’m fine,” You tried to start, but you knew with how he tipped his head to the side slightly and the resting expression twitched that he didn’t believe it. Even if you couldn’t see his eyes half the time, half from how low he wore his hat and his disinterest in keeping the lights on in his truck, he wasn’t that hard to read when you were this close. Shuddering slightly, you then assured, “I promised you I was going to follow your lead, and I intend to hold true to that.”

“Sure.” His hand slid back up to hold you by the hip, “Wouldn’t expect less from a good [girl/boy/listener].” Your gaze fluttered back up at that, keening to him with devotion to the praise that you didn’t even know was in you. Even weak and a little frightened under the rub of those large hands against your lower back, you reveled to the purr of his voice, “Don’t find someone with so much eagerness to behave for me. You’re a smart one, sweetness. Can see it’s kept you out of trouble- Well, ‘cept what I brought to you.”

Sweetness, you nearly echoed him in awe that he’d call you that, but only responded with a slight tremble and a dazed smirk instead. One hand came up, trailing over your jaw before his thumb pressed against your chin, index finger tracing down from under your ear to meet it in a few motions. Leaning into the touch, you cautiously took the one hand from the seat to his thigh, closing your eyes for a moment.

“There we are, let’s forget about all that trouble on your mind now.” He eased, pulling you close again when you slid backwards and making another needy sound leave your mouth, “Knew you’d play nice for me.”

Even when he had first taken you, you’d sometimes press your face against his leg when you slept on the floor. More to keep your head steady and try to recuperate some energy for another day full of torment that he attracted whether or not he actually wanted it more than something he brought on himself, but even in those times where you felt less than any dirt under his boot, there’d be the early hours of the morning where his hand would be holding your head in place instead of settled on the stick shift or the wheel, sure you were asleep while he worked a knot in the back of your neck out.

You hadn’t been asleep for those moments, and that knowledge would likely go with you to the grave. Something told you that he knew it despite that, seeing you recognizing the same touch now and comfortable enough to press into it. Rusty knew far more than people expected, and as with most things about him you were aware of what those hands that held you so carefully could do.

The same hands that would cup your jaw, the need to sink his nails into the skin when he spoke to you fading each time that he held you. Not completely gone, yet harder to act on when your smile found its natural pull.

“See what happens when someone knows when to listen?”

#rusty nail x reader #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #notsfw #✏️#⛓️#tried to write straight p*rn. goes into 500 word thing about being the token of his affections instead. what is wrong with me

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inejschumacher · 5 months

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Lilies of Love - AE16

part 2 of Roses of Ruin

summary: abde tries to save his “friend” from her alleged kidnapped when things take a turn for the worse

pairing: abde ezzalzouli x reader

cw: physical violence involving weaponry, verbal abuse, kidnapping, bad breath, hospitals

wc: 4108

an: I have no idea how this fic even ended up going in this direction but I made it much tamer😭😭 also I completely forgot to say there were two parts oops

Abde sits on his couch, awaiting your text that will let him know when you reach home safely. He knows these days you had later nights, studying for finals and polishing all your essays, so you always texted him when you got home safely to assuage his worries.

So when he doesn’t get one that night, he knows something is up. At the very least if you’d forgotten he’d see you active on Twitter or Instagram where he’d then text you asking if you were home, to which you would reply yes with an apology for not texting him.

But that doesn’t happen. When even his DMs go unread, he immediately jumps up and grabs his keys, driving straight to your place.

When he sees the poster, his heart drops. The house is dark and there are no signs of anyone there but he just knows his worst fears have come true. Your secret admirer is a stalker, and he’s finally committing his endgame.

He takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down before trying to think of what he can do.

He searches the ground looking for something that might indicate where you were taken or who took you, like a business card or a fast food restaurant wrapper, when his eye catches on something…familiar.

No.

It can’t be.

A tiny Barcelona keychain, with one of the tiny chains broken.

There was only one place secure and isolated enough on a Tuesday night where one who knew the place would feel secure enough to take a kidnapped woman without fear of being discovered.

After all, that one little lesson from the security guards the boys had made them give was very useful, if one wanted to turn off the security systems, including any cameras and alarms.

He has a sinking feeling that you were right about one thing: you know who your secret admirer is.

And he is about to find out.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

You come to with a massive headache that throbs mostly on the right side of your head. The bright lights don't help either, as you struggle to open your eyes.

You try pressing your fingers against your head to relieve the pain, but you can't. Your hands are bound behind the chair you're sitting on, and it seems your legs are as well. The sudden severity of your situation jolts you fully awake, and you open your eyes to see the face of Pedri staring back at you with a coy smile on his lips, sitting on a chair across from you.

Close enough that you can smell his rancid breath. Did he always lack dental hygiene?

He taps a baseball bat on the floor, which you assume must have been the weapon he’d used to knock you out so efficiently. You feel yourself swallow in fear at the prospect of what else he could do with it.

His smile grows.

He does look a lot like Mr. Bean, which would’ve made you laugh in any other situation.

Instead, you want to cry. You should be safe at home, in your pajamas eating dinner, texting Abde, and watching a show. Instead, you’re tied to a chair by your supposed friend and secret admirer, who turned out to be someone you should never have trusted. And you want to cry because your secret admirer is not someone who was ever in love with you, and never would be.

You should’ve listened to what Abde had said. You cursed yourself for not telling him the truth of what this whole situation was spiralling into. You cursed yourself for not sharing your location with him, so he could keep an eye on you and find you if he needed to. Like right now.

But mostly, you cursed yourself for ever believing someone would love you, instead of fantasizing about a relationship as Abde had put it.

You turn your sight to the left, breaking eye contact with Pedri, when you see the pastry box from your doorstep sitting on the bench. The same box that waited for you many times each week, holding sweets that were now poisoned with fear.

You feel the tears threaten to well up, but you can’t allow yourself to show such weakness to Pedri, who now inches his chair even closer so your noses are almost touching.

You can’t help but jerk back, and he laughs. It had never sounded so dark before.

“A pretty little thing like you couldn’t be bothered with such a sight, now, could you?” He pouts a little before the smirk returns. “But I think you must be surprised by me. I know you thought your secret admirer might have been Lamine, but did you seriously think he would go through all that effort to show you he loves you? And besides, you and I both know he would’ve asked you out face-to-face, but of course, he never did. Because no one would ever truly love a bland degenerate like you.” He reaches out to stroke your cheek, which you try to turn away from, but he grips your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“But then Abde convinced himself he was in love with you, even though he would never admit it. But it was so obvious to me he only pitied you, even when the others thought he was truly in love.”

Pedri takes in your widened eyes and chuckles darkly. “Oh! But you had no idea, did you? You thought all those car rides, all those cafe outings, were because he was friends with you? No, because he thinks he’s in love with you, and everyone else thinks he’s too scared to admit it. But I know the truth,” his nails dig deep into your chin, “he only tolerates you. Do you think a man like him would want to be seen in a girly cafe? Or admit he listens to that white trash Taylor Swift? No, sweetheart, he only pities how painfully single you are. He doesn’t want you to be sad, like all you other insecure girls. He wants to make you think he’s happy spending time with you when really, he would rather listen to nails on a chalkboard than your annoying voice.”

He takes a deep breath from the rant, allowing you to take in his words. Was it true that Abde didn’t like you even as a friend? You knew he wasn’t the biggest fan of cafes or your music taste, but there was no way he’d “tolerate it” for so long, as Pedri had put it.

Or so you thought.

Pedri was one of Abde’s closest friends, so maybe he could tell when he didn’t want to be friends with someone.

Including you.

You felt your heart start to break as Pedri’s words really sunk in. It must’ve shown on your face, as Pedri cocks his head. “Oh, shit, now I pity you a little. Not even your beloved friend wants to be known that way, but oh well. It’s not like he cares enough to look to you, or care about what I’m about to do to you.”

Before you can even react, he kisses you roughly. You try to jerk back away from it, but Pedro’s still gripping your chin, ms it feel as if he’s now pierced the skin. His lips are rough and there’s no love behind the kiss.

“That would be your first and last ever kiss because I really do pity you. But you’re not gonna get the chance for another, because I’ve realized that as long as you live, Abde will have to tolerate your antics. Which also means he’ll spend less time with the people that truly love him, like me.” He smacks the bat against the floor, making you jump in your chair.

His grin makes your blood freeze in fear.

The first hit is hard against your shin.

You scream out in pain, but there’s no one around to hear you in the empty, isolated stadium. The pain only gets worse as it settles in, and Pedri laughs maniacally at the pleasure in your pain. He strikes again in the same spot, and your screams grow louder.

Tears well up as he hits your legs over and over and over again, switching between them, hitting the same spot multiple times before moving on, hitting the areas where it would hurt the most. Your futile screams and his laughter mix together in a frightening chorus, and you try to pray for a little relief, if not a saviour.

But in your already heavy heart, you knew no one would come looking for you. Even if there was someone who might have tried, there was no way for them to know where you were. The thoughts and the pain together are too much, and the tears finally fall as you hear bone cracking, the sound a massive roar in your ears.

It takes a second, but the pain suddenly drowns all your other senses, hiding your screams as it feels as if your legs are nothing more than shattered fragments.

The pain is so overwhelming, you don’t even notice when the bat stops hitting your body, when the horrid smell is replaced by something more homely, more familiar.

The hands that should’ve felt gentle felt like they were breaking you apart even more, and you let loose another wretched scream.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Abde must have broken about a hundred driving laws getting to Camp Nou, and he thanked God the streets were isolated enough for no one to call the police on him. He tries cursing you for getting home so late, for not doing your work at home, but instead curses himself for not being by your side, driving you home from campus and making sure you got home safely. What kind of friend was he? And what kind of lover would he make?

Ignoring the horrific parking job, he riches inside the stadium, thankfully being able to unlock the doors with his keycard even this late in the night.

He races through the inside of the stadium towards the locker rooms, when he hears an earth-shattering scream pierce through the otherwise unnerving silence. His heart breaks and he pushes himself to run even faster, as your screams grow louder and louder.

He finally reaches the locker room where you seem to be inside and tries pushing the door open. It was locked.

Of course, the key card works, and he easily opens the door, taking in the horrific scene playing out in front of him.

You, tied to a chair, limbs splayed out in all the wrong ways as Pedri paces slowly in front of you with his back to Abde, tapping a baseball bat against the floor.

Abde doesn't stop to think. He rushes at Pedri, taking him by surprise when he slams him against the locker with all his might and he drops the bat. Dazed, Pedri tries turning around to face his attacker, but Abde slams his head against the lockers again, knocking him out, and Abde rushes over to you.

He checks to see you’re still breathing although it is heavily laboured and his heart breaks at your whimpers of pain. He makes quick work of the restraints, doing his best to be careful not to hurt you further but you scream in pain, making him wince at the loudness.

He finally gets them all off of you and tries picking you up, but your screams almost shatter his eardrums as winces away from you.

He decides to go the less solo route and call an ambulance as well as the police, and waits in the now-quiet locker room, keeping an eye on both you and Pedri as your whimpers fill the air. He tries smoothing a hand over your back to help soothe your pain and waits for the telltale sound of sirens to come closer and closer.

Checking Pedri’s unconscious form one last time, he rushes out to the stadium entrance to greet the paramedics, leading them to your body and they gently but quickly carry you away on a stretcher. Abde tries to stay with you, but the paramedics brush him off, telling him they have to take you into surgery without any distractions, but he is more than welcome to visit you later on. And besides, he needs to tell the police his account of what occurred.

The rest of the night passes by in a blur.

Abde watches the ambulance leave, right when the police finally arrive. He’s quiet as he leads them to the locker room, where Pedri is still unconscious but has a paramedic checking his vitals. As they secure the scene, they take Abde’s initial report, before leading him to one of the cop cars so he can give an official statement at the station. In no time at all it seems, he is free to go, tired but still worried for you.

He wants to go to the hospital, but the cop, who was kind enough to call the hospital to check on your status, says you still have hours left of your surgery, and it would be better for the both of you if Abde went home, got some rest, then was able to be a fresh face for you to look at when you woke up.

Abde almost decided to spend the night at the hospital, but he knew you deserved to see him rested rather than tired, so he went home and took some melatonin pills to help him sleep a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, he wakes up feeling groggy but refreshed, but with his heart heavy. His grogginess turns to alarm as he quickly checks the time, and remembers what happened last night. He’s ready and refreshed in no time, changing into a set of shorts and a t-shirt, washing his face and brushing his teeth, before rushing out. He stops by a bakery to pick up some freshly baked muffins for the both of you when he sees something colourful in the corner of his eye.

He turns around to see it’s a flower shop, the front sidewalk filled with arrays of fresh blooms, when he remembers something you once told him. “It’s not like you ever got me any”, you’d said to him in that one argument. He feels a wave of regret at that fact and decides that today is as good as any other day to change that. He just hoped you wouldn't see it as a pathetic attempt to pity you. He studies the different arrangements, trying to figure out which one to get you, when he suddenly remembers another memory.

You and Abde were walking in Barcelona after a glorious match against Atletico. Abde had scored two amazing goals, and assisted a third, giving them the 3 points they needed to stay well ahead of Real Madrid in the La Liga title race.

He was still on a high from the glory, made even better with you being able to travel to Madrid to attend the match, cheering him on while wearing his jersey, and him being able to squeeze you in a bone-crushing hug after the game ended rather than FaceTiming you later after the celebrations died down.

You were still wearing his jersey, and he had to fight a grin from showing, lest you see and threaten to take it off.

The Barcelona sunset was gorgeous, casting a beautiful pink glow over the city, as you took in the sights. It has been quite some time since you were able to walk city streets like this together and revel in the moment, content in each other’s company.

Abde glanced down at your swinging hand, longing to reach out and hold it, but stopped himself. You were gazing out at the bustling streets, taking in the street vendors, the children, and the delicious aromas of food wafting around, and he didn't want to spoil the mood for you.

But that turned out to be pointless because he felt you grab his hand a minute later, tugging on it with a little urgency.

“Abde, look!” he looked ahead to where you were pointing, at a pink cafe decorated with flowers, and looked down to see you looking at him inquiringly.

“That’s a really pretty cafe…” you trailed off, hoping he understood what you meant. Abde hesitated for just a second, not really wanting to celebrate his victory in a Barbie-type cafe, but he would do anything for you, so he squeezed your hand and led the way. He didn't see the pure joy on your face until you both sat down, you gazing at the beautiful interior of flowers and live hummingbirds flying around, and Abde gazing at you.

It was at this moment he realized. He was in love with you.

The treats were all so gorgeous, with cupcakes decorated with intricate icing designs, cheesecake slices that were swirled in different shades of pink and purple and blue, macarons of flavours you weren’t even aware were possible, puddings heaped with cream and fresh fruit, and scones that smelled like a baker’s heaven. You ordered a raspberry lemon cheesecake with pink lemonade, while Abde ordered a mango pudding topped with pineapple and coconut with a regular lemonade.

As you both ate, you pointed out the different types of flowers in the cafe. Of course, Abde knew the basic ones, like roses, tulips, and daisies, but he was surprised to learn just how many variations of each there were, and how much knowledge you had of them.

“See those pink lilies with white outlines on the petals? Those are called stargazer lilies, and they attract a lot of butterflies- look at that one! See?” A monarch butterfly landed on one, its wings fluttering lazily. Ade looked back to see your eyes shining with delight at a pretty piece of nature.

You looked back at him before pointing out a different lily, this one completely pink. “That one’s called an Acapulco lily; they’re commonly used in bouquets and gardens.” You smile as Abde’s gaze never leaves your face.

“Lilies are my favourite flower. They’re just, I don't know, so unique. Some of them are those pink colours, some are orange like the tiger lily. That’s one of my favourite types because it’s so bold.” You paused, blushing a little. “It kind of reminds me of you.”

Abde felt his breath hitch, but you hurried on before he could respond. “The pink ones are my favourites of course. Although the white Casablanca lilies are used in weddings, so maybe I’ll use them too!” You smile a the thought of your wedding, before looking back at Abde. “Keep this in mind for your future wife, she’ll love to know you know so much.”

Abde’s smile froze. What on Earth did you mean his future wife? Did you not want her to be you? Did you not want to be with Abde?

If Abde would place one moment where he knew he could never confess his feelings for you, it would be here.

The pink and the flowers suddenly made him sick to his stomach, and he excused himself to go to the bathroom and throw up the sickeningly sweet pudding.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

He snaps out of it when he notices a small flurry of movement. A monarch butterfly, just like the one in the cafe, landing on a pink lily with a white outline. Abde stares for a moment, before realizing it had led him to the perfect bouquet.

It has the pink lilies you said attracted butterflies, although he can not for the life of him remember the name. Aca-ava-avocado? Nevermind. The arrangement also consisted of pink and white roses and white tulips; it was perfect. He buys it quickly, before rushing back to his car and speeding to the hospital. He’s wasted enough time already; it was now time to pay you a long-awaited visit.

The hospital is a hive of bustling activity. Three nurses congregate near the reception desk, heads bent down over a clipboard, while another rushes by, carrying some medications. There are a couple of young children playing in a corner with a toy train with their tired mother looking after them, and the whole area is filled with chatter and beeping.

Abde walks up to the reception desk where a woman in light blue scrubs is typing something on her computer and gives a little cough.

She looks up inquiringly at Abde, who’s gripping the bouquet tightly. “I’m here to see y/n l/n, she came in yesterday.” The nurse types something on her computer before turning back to him, eyes suddenly soft and pitiful.

“She’s still in recovery, so we’re not letting any visitors in except for family.” Abde’s face drops, but before he can stammer out some excuse of being your relative in some way, she speaks again.

“Unless you are Abdessamad Ezzalzouli,” she sounds the name out slowly as she struggles to pronounce the long arrangement of letters, “in which case you are the noted exception.” Abde nods vigorously, reaching for his wallet with his ID. The nurse raises her eyebrow as he struggles to take out his driver’s license with one hand, but one look at the card and she’s passing him a clipboard.

“Time in is 9:27. Sign here.” She taps one of the columns before returning to her work on the computer as Abde quickly writes the time in and signs his name, before using the clipboard back. She barely gives him another look as she tells him the room number and direction, and he’s practically sprinting down the hallway toward your room, nearly crashing into a nurse on the way.

He stops outside the room, where he can see your mother sitting by your bedside through the window. He knocks once, before opening the door, suddenly nervous at the prospect of seeing you in the aftermath.

It’s a horrific sight. Your legs are both in lifted casts, almost all the way up to your hips, tenderly placed to avoid a disturbance in blood circulation. Your face is bruised and swollen, already dark purple in the places where Pedri had made contact with you.

Abde wants to cry.

He tears his gaze from you to your mother, who looks at him with red eyes and a tear-streaked face. She looks horrible, as if she hasn't slept for days. He finds an empty vase tucked away on a shelf, behind a couple of half-empty glasses filled with water, and he gets a strange sense of deja vu that sends him into a sort of haze.

He doesn't remember placing the lilies on the shelf top, bringing his arms around your mother to comfort her, or even taking her home to get her to rest with the promise that he would look after you. He doesn’t remember the fast drive back, or if he signed in again, just your broken body fighting for life. He doesn't remember the doctors telling him they placed you in a medical coma to save your mind from the painful healing process.

It’s the same routine every day. Wake up after the horrific nightmare of watching you get tortured to death and Pedri carry your broken body to dump it in some hidden place because this time he couldn't save you, cook something that could pass off as food to bring to your parents at your bedside, and stay by your side for hours, even with no updates on your condition.

There was never a dying lily in that flower vase; Abde kept it well-stocked with fresh pink ones every day.

3 weeks later, he doesn't see the new scribble on the clipboard attached to your bed. The new ones. Signed by the lead doctor, saying they were going to take you out of your coma to analyze your brain activity.

What he does notice is the fresh pink lilies in the vase. He hadn't been able to replace them for the past few days, but today he brought some, albeit pure white as the flower vendor had said they had run out of the pink ones for the time being because Abde bought most of the stock.

He placed his bouquet down on the bedside table, before taking his usual place next to your bed, and squeezed your hand.

“I’m here, love. Come back to me, please.”

He almost missed your hand squeezing back.

His tears did not.

#abde ezzalzouli #morocco #football #football fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #ez abde #abde ezzalzouli x reader #football imagine #pedri #hospital

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minty-mumbles · 1 year

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From the Outside In (Pt. 3: The Good Samaritan)

Summary: A series of short unconnected fics, exploring the chain from various outsider's perspectives. This chapter: Hyrule, knocked unconscious in an alleyway, receives help from a local.

AN: In this fic I made Hyrule a native to Calatian, one of Hyrule's neighboring countries. (I'm pretty sure? this is actually canon in Zelda lore.) He also speaks in Calatian, because I imagine that his native tongue would not be Hylian if the above is true.

Read this and the previous parts on AO3

~~~

It was late. Nearly midnight, in fact.

It was late, she had work in the morning, and someone wouldn't stop moaning in the alleyway outside her window.

She’d tried to ignore it, Hylia knows she did. She lived in the middle of Kakariko, which wasn’t a large city, but it was a city, nonetheless. There were going to be people behaving inappropriately, no matter the hour of the day. It’d only been a year since she moved here for her apprenticeship, but she already knew that.

When she’d first heard the noises, she’d rolled over in her cot, pulling her pillow over her head, and prayed that whoever was making the noises would finish their activities and move elsewhere.

Twenty minutes later, she was staring dully at the wall, coming to the realization that if she wanted a good night’s sleep, she was going to have to stick her head out the window and tell the two love birds to move elsewhere.

She swung herself out of bed, moving carefully through the dark of her room over to the table in the middle of the room. Striking a match, she lit the candle that she’d blown out not even an hour ago. The flame slickered and caught, its soft light casting the room in a dim glow.

Moving over the window, she pulled a face and prepared herself for whatever sight she might see. Pulling back the thin curtain that protected her privacy, and throwing open the shutters, she tried to look as annoyed and haggard as she could.

Before she could even register the sight before her, she was talking, trying to scare whoever it was away. “Some people are trying to sleep, you know!” she snapped, “You need to leave or I’ll yell for the… night guard…”

Her voice trails off when she finally registers the scene in front of her. There wasn’t some amorous couple pressed up against the wall, or a lone man trying to find his own satisfaction. There was only one person, laying still on the ground. They didn’t respond to her words, remaining facing away from the window, curled on their side.

The light of her candle wasn’t bright enough to show them in great detail, but she could see that the person wasn’t moaning because of any sort of pleasure.

A pool of dark liquid surrounded the figure’s head. She couldn’t tell what color it was. Its hues were washed out in the golden candlelight, but she knew it wasn't water.

In less than a minute, she’d thrown a robe over her nightgown, and jammed her feet into her shoes, not even bothering to put stockings on. At the last moment, she opened the chest that sat at the end of her bed and pulled out an old ratty blanket she had been planning on cutting up for rags. With the blanket tucked under one arm, and the candle held high in the other, she leaves her room.

As quickly as she could- but still carefully, so as not to disturb the tenants in the rooms next to hers- she made her way out of the house.

Unsurprisingly, the man was still there when she arrived. She was cautious as she entered the alleyway, keeping an eye out for whoever did this to the boy. Whoever it was seemed to be long gone, though. The alley is empty beside the man, who was still making pained sounds and whimpers, although his voice had grown weaker.

As she approached, she could see that the man wasn't a man at all, but a boy. He can’t be older than seventeen yet, and must still be a few years younger than she was. She can now tell the liquid pooling under his head is indeed blood. There was less of it than she feared, but still far, far too much of it.

She set the blanket and candle down, taking a hold of the boy’s shoulders to turn him onto his back. He twitches at her touch but otherwise doesn’t react, and her concern grows. She focused her attention on his head. He had shoulder-length chocolate brown hair, and it was matted with blood.

She didn’t know what happened to him, but whatever it was, it wasn't good.

Carefully and as gently as she could, she felt the back of his head, trying to find the source of the blood. The boy murmured something, trying to turn away from her prodding fingers and the pain they caused him.

It was the first real reaction she’d gotten out of him, and she felt a spark of hope.

But it was far too easy to keep him from squirming away from her. She wasn’t a very strong person, and she could see the muscles hidden under his tunic. He should be able to easily overpower her, but his head wound seemed to have rendered him weak as a newborn kitten.

She soon found where the blood was coming from. There was a large lump there on the back of his head, but thankfully there was no give under her fingers. She put her worry about a shattered skull out of her head. Taking the blanket, she pressed it to the back of his head, trying to stem the bleeding. His skull might not be shattered, but there's so much blood.

Too much blood.

She didn’t think she'd ever seen this much blood before in her life.

Once, when she’d been a child, her younger brother had fallen out of a tree and broken his arm. The break had been so bad that his bones had stuck out through his skin. Her brother had cried and cried, and she’d stayed with him while her mother ran to get the healer. She’d thought that had been a lot of blood, back then.

There’s more blood on the ground now than there’d been back then. Much more. Even if the boy’s brain wasn’t too damaged, he still may die from blood loss.

The boy mumbled again, louder this time. The distant sounds of the sleepy city made her strain to hear his words. At first, she didn’t understand what he’s saying. If he couldn't even speak properly, then it’s almost a guarantee something was seriously wrong with his head beside the bleeding. She didn’t know much about injuries, but not being able to speak was definitely a bad sign.

But it didn’t take her long before she realized that she couldn’t understand- not because his speech was slurred or broken, but because the boy is speaking Calatian, not Hylian.

She twitches a little at the revelation and glances warily around the alleyway.

Calatian was the language of Calatia, the country that bordered Hyrule to the west. It’s a shock to hear anyone speak that language in Kakariko. They don’t get many normal travelers from Calatia here, and especially not recently.

The only Calatians she’d seen recently had been a steady trickle of nobles and ambassadors, heading back and forth between the countries. From the ambassador's unhappy expressions and the gossip in the streets, relations between the two countries were quickly degrading.

She could only pick out a few Hylian words in his slurred speech. “Time…” He moaned, brows pinched, eyes still closed. He said something else in Calatian, and then she heard, “Wars..” before he trailed off again.

He was delirious. At least she hoped he was. Tension had been stirring lately between Hyrule and Calatia. She doesn't want to think about what a Calatian could be doing in Hyrule, talking about war.

Although she wouldn't be surprised if he actually was simply delirious, with how long he’s been laying here.

With how long she’d been ignoring him.

She shook the thought out of her head. She needed to concentrate now. The guilt could come later. For now, she needed to figure out how to get the boy to a healer. She knew the healing house just up the road stayed open late. Bringing him there would be the best option. But was it smart to move him? Or would it be better to run up the road and get the healer to come here? She bit her lip, unsure.

She would probably have to run for help. It would be better to be cautious with moving him when she didn’t know exactly how bad his injury was. And anyways, she doubted she could carry him.

She gently placed his head back down on the ground, leaving the blanket to cushion him. She hesitated, wondering if she should bring the candle or leave it here. It’s not like the boy would need it, but on the other hand, the street lamps were lit along the main road. She wouldn’t need the candle to see.

After a moment, she left the candle on the floor and dashed out of the alleyway, clutching at the front of her robe to keep it from flapping open. Her quick pace would probably blow the candle out anyways, and there was no more time to delay.

~~~

She shifted uncomfortably. The wooden chair she sat in was incredibly uncomfortable. Despite the stressful situation and uncomfortable chair, she felt seconds away from nodding off. It had been nearly an hour since she had found the boy laying in the alleyway, and she doubted that she would leave anytime soon.

It had taken nearly half an hour for the healer to carefully transfer the boy to the healer’s house, and another half hour to check the boy over and treat his head. Now it was nearly half past one in the morning, and she was waiting at the boy’s bedside, her hand tightly holding his.

The boy had been mumbling and crying, refusing to settle down. The healer had told her it was normal for someone with a head injury like his to be confused and distressed. But the boy had settled down once she’d taken his hand in hers. If something so simple gave him comfort, then who was she to deny him?)

She was going to be exhausted tomorrow. She hoped she didn’t nod off over her work. Still, she couldn’t just leave before she knew the boy was in capable hands. Either those of his friends, or those of the knights that were stationed in Kakariko. She didn’t know who she was hoping would come to retrieve him.

She hadn’t told anyone about what he’d been saying when she’d found him, but the echoes of his words rattled around in her head. (War. He’d been talking about war. Why was a Calatian in Hyrule, talking about War?)

The healer on duty had sent their apprentice to the nearby inn with a description of the boy, hoping that some of the other travelers there would know him. The boy still hadn’t woken up enough to identify himself, so they had no name to give out. A description would have to do.

Luckily for the boy, the healer had given him a good prognosis for his injury. It was only a severe concussion. He’d also lost a lot of blood, but the healer had said that head wounds often bleed a lot, so it wasn’t a major concern.

The boy had been hit on the back of the head with a blunt object, knocking him unconscious. A mugger perhaps, trying to get some rupees off an unarmed child. She shuddered. Tomorrow, she would be avoiding the back alley shortcuts on the way to her internship.

(She tried to shake off her more sinister thoughts that perhaps the boy had been attacked because he knew something he shouldn’t have.)

The healer had assured her that- barring any unpleasant surprises- the boy would heal perfectly. He would just need to rest and not strain himself for a week or so. A red potion would speed the process up even more, if the boy was able and willing to pay for one.

Now, she was waiting for someone to enter, and relieve her from her post. At this point, she might leave, even if no one from the inn recognized his description and came to see him. (She was lying to herself. She wouldn't leave him. She couldn’t bear to deprive him of the simple comfort of a hand to hold.)

Luckily, she didn't have to wait long. Not twenty minutes later, the door creaked open.

The person who entered wasn’t the healer or her apprentice, but a man in full plate armor. His eyes- no, eye, singular- instantly zeroed in on her. The heaviness of his stern gaze made her shrink into her seat slightly. The sword on his back was so large it was almost ridiculously big, but she has no doubt the man could swing it with ease.

He was closely followed by another man who was also wearing armor, although less of it than the first. A decorative scarf wrapped around his shoulders, military blue with gold stitching displayed the Hylian royal crest on it. Despite his slightly ostentatious clothes, she can tell he could be deadly with the blade strapped to his back just like the first man.

She highly doubted these were this boy's friends. In fact, there was almost no way the two of them even knew the boy. She didn’t recognize them, but she didn’t need to, to be able to know who they were. The knights had come for the boy.

There was a beat of silence. She used her free hand to clutch her robe tighter as their gazes scrutinized her. Her heart started beating faster as their gazes lingered longer, judging her. She felt her skin crawling and knew instinctively that these men were not to be crossed.

The singular piercing blue eye of the one in full plate wandered down to where she held the boy’s hand, and she quickly jerked out of his grip. The boy whined in response, fingers twitching as if he were trying to find her hand again.

She should leave. The knights were here, and she had work in the morning. Her mentor would not be pleased if she were late.

But for some reason, she felt a sort of responsibility towards the boy. She owed it to him to help him as much as she could, especially after leaving him alone in the alleyway for so long. She doesn’t want to hand him over to the knights, for some unknown fate.

But she was a citizen of Hyrule. She had more responsibility to her country, her Queen, and her family than to a random stranger on the street.

Not with war on the line.

She would have to assist the knights as much as they needed, no matter her own feelings. She just hoped that the boy was indeed a Hyrulean spy, and not a Calatian one.

She was the first one to break the silence.

“He was delirious,” She told them. “He was talking about a war.” The taller one’s eye flickers to the look at the captain, and doesn't seem surprised. She didn’t get a lot of information from the boy- hardly anything at all- but what little information she did have she would give them.

“He was talking about a war,” She repeated, clutching at the skirt of the nightgown so hard she knew it would crease under her grip, and she would have to iron it before going back to bed tomorrow.

“And he said something about time. Mostly he just spoke in Calatian. I couldn't understand him.” Still, neither of the knights seem shocked by this. Perhaps they have good poker faces. Perhaps they know as much about this as she did, and nothing she was saying carried any significance to them.

The one with the scarf had already turned his attention away from her, moving over to the boy's side to check on him. His fingers came up to the boy’s neck to check his pulse, despite the fact the healer must’ve told them that the boy would be fine. The one with the scarred eye thanked her with a grateful nod, but said nothing more.

When neither of them spoke again, she dipped her head in respect and excused herself as politely as she could manage. Scurrying around the one-eyed man and out the door, she took her leave.

She spends the next month in suspense, waiting to hear about war breaking out in the west, but no news ever comes. If anything, tensions seem to ease between the two kingdoms. She could only hope that meant that- whatever news of war the boy had carried- it had brought good tidings.

#mint's fanfiction #linked universe #from the outside in #lu hyrule #lu time #lu warriors #angst #lu hyrule angst #lu fanfiction #blood #head injuries #concussion #implied violence #misunderstandings

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