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hellcaster901 · 3 years

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Say Something

The Mandalorian x Reader

Summary: After a bounty, and some insecurities, both of you decided to be honest.

Word Count: 6,321

Warning(s): SMUT! (No one under 18 PLS) also, please be safe, its a fanficiton wrap that shit up. Language, creampie, slight mutual masturbation? You know, its all the good stuff.

A/N: I decided that this needed a third part! And thank you to @13dead-ends for being that bitch and helping me through this!! And if there are any mistakes, please, ignore them and enjoy the reading!

Masterlist

What Now? (Pt 1) Never Been Better (Pt 2)

The trees swayed with the wind, every single leaf moving of their own accord as you watched, the midnight sky shining down on you and the razor crest, the moon giving off a light for the whole galaxy to see. The ship slightly moved and creaked from the wind pushing against it. You sat there, slouched in the passenger seat of the cockpit, knees up to your chest as you simply watched, waiting.

You messed with your bottom lip, zoning out as you tried not to worry too much about what was going on with Mando. It’s been a week since he left, a week since he told you that the bounty would only take a day or two and he would be back. You tried your best to keep yourself busy, cleaning what you could, taking care of the child, fixing things that you could fix as you waited, but as each day passed, the nerves worsened and worsened. Which was… unlike you.

You worried, of course, there was always that chance that something would happen, but you knew that he was doing this long before he met you, long before he had either you or the child in his life, and for you to be worrying about it now when you were his…

What were you to him?

You scoffed at your thoughts, rolling your eyes at your own insecurities. You knew what you were to Mando, even without the silly labels, you knew that there were more to the two of you than you could even describe with words. You spent every night in his arms, stolen moments with him, spokeless heavy touches as the two of you worked around the ship. He was more to you, meant more to you than anyone you have met in your life, and you were sure you meant the same for him.

You shook your head of the silly thoughts, slouching further into the chair. It was silly to think such thoughts, even question everything that has happened. Those moments on his ship, at the festival, meant something, and honestly, you weren’t expecting a grand gesture of Mando expressing his love to you. You knew already.

You jumped when you heard the door slide open, hearing the clanking of the ramp as it slid down to the ground. You sat up, wide eyed, looking back at the door, hearing the heavy footsteps walking up the ramp, a heavy grunt as something heavy was dropped. You stood quickly, pushing the door pad as you climbed down the ladder, your heart thumping wildly against your chest as you saw him.

His back was to you, as he grabbed the bounty, picking him back up with a loud grunt, shoving the passed out man into the carbon-freezing chamber before a gush of smoke came from the machine, the man frozen.

He must’ve not heard you as he slumped against the wall, huffing in pain as he grabbed his side, trying his best to stand. “Mando?” You whispered, his head tilting towards you, another grunt of pain as he pushed himself against the wall, standing on his feet. “Are you okay?” You moved, grabbing the medpack rushing to his side before he could even say what was wrong with him. He didn’t say anything as he watched you open the box, your worried eyes looking up at him. “What happened?” You spoke softly, resting a hand on his arm.

“Stop.” He grunted roughly, flinching away from your touch, pushing himself off the wall as he limped around you. “I don’t need your help.” You said nothing as you watched him, lines forming between your eyebrows as you took in what he said.

“You’re hurt, Mando. Let me at least see what’s wrong.” You huffed, trying to play off what he said didn’t feel like a punch to the heart. You turned towards him, seeing that he was clenching his upper left chest, a growing patch of darkness growing. “You’re bleeding, let me-”

“Stop!” He huffed, turning towards you. Your body went rigged, your mind feeling like it was short circuiting as you heard the tone in his voice, the way he yelled at you. He could see it too, the way you held the med box closer to your chest, fingers tight around the box as you stared at him, eyes wide, mouth gaped as you took in the way he was acting towards you.

He opened his mouth to speak, say something to you, but nothing was coming out, and right now, he had to take care of himself. Mando turned from you without a word, soft grunts of pain as he limped towards the cockpit. You swallowed thickly, setting the med box on your hip. You blink blankly towards the ladder, not honestly sure what happened. There was rarely a time where he spoke like that to you, much less flinch away from you.

Maybe you weren’t something to him…

You sighed deeply, eyes closing at the fleeting thought. You knew that wasn’t it, and you were being childish by simply thinking this was more than him just frustrated with such a bounty. Selfish even to think that this was about you rather than him being hurt. With a deep breath, holding the box to your hip, you walked towards the ladder as well, climbing up, knowing that he needed at least something. The door to the cockpit slid open, Mando sitting at his seat, some of his beskar thrown to the side as he looked over himself.

He heard you, head tilting towards you, not a word spoken as you slowly walked over. You placed a hand on his chair, tugging it softly, hoping he would get the hint. And he did, letting you turn the chair towards one of the passenger seats as you sat down, placing the box on your lap. You tried not to take too long of a glance towards him, the layer of beskar he wore was gone, leaving him in a thin layer of clothing, chunks cut and slashed, exposing tan skin.

It was silent as you rummage through the box, grabbing some bandages, glancing up at the wounded man. “Lift your shirt.” You whispered, scooting towards the edge of the seat. Mando didn’t move, but you could feel his eyes searching you. “Up.” You mumbled, gesturing to the bandages in your hand. You tried not to look up at his visor, patiently waiting as he pushed himself off the back of the seat, his right hand grabbing the hem of his shirt, lifting it with a strain grunt. You kept you face blank as he lifted his shirt, trying not to show a reaction to the bruising that was scattered along his chest, deep and dark shades of purples and blues. You swallowed thickly, eyes trained on him as he slipped an arm from his sleeve, exposing the long slash.

Not only was the slash a bit ugly, but seeing him this exposed to you, with so much light still within the room, made your whole body light up. You felt each scar multiple times, felt how smooth his skin could be, felt each part of his body, but now as you stared at it, the moonlight shining brightly against his tan skin, it was as if you were really looking at him for the first time.

You pulled the cleansing-fluid and a small rag from the medpack, leaning forward as you held the rag beneath the slash, pouring the fluid over the wound. Mando inhaled sharply, chest flexing under your hand. You gave him a sympathetic smile, watching as most of the blood washed away with the fluid. You patted the wound, most of the blood that was dried to his skin wiping away as you soon saw how it really looked. “I think we have some kolto in here.” You mumbled, keeping the rag on the wound as you dug around in the medpack.

“I’m… sorry.” He muttered, noticing the way your body visibility stiffen at his voice. You shook your head, unrolling the bandages. You worked quietly, wrapping the bandages around the clean wound, looping it under his opposite arm and over the left shoulder, trying your best to make sure it was covered. You felt his eyes on you as you worked, reaching an arm over his chest,face inches away from his helmet as you sat back down, looping the bandage, trying to compose yourself. You were seeing skin that you’ve touched millions of times before, but something about actually seeing it was completely different.

“Nothing to apologize for.” You spoke, looking up at the dark visor. “I’m… just glad you came back safe.” What you didn’t realize was that Mando constantly had the same thoughts you had. Knowing that what the two of you were, were more than anything you could describe with words, and he wasn’t the best with words on top of that. The best way he could express those emotions, was through actions.

Your eyes dropped back to the medpack, shoving the materials back in, closing the box as you laid the rag on top of it, standing quickly to leave Mando to his thoughts. “Wait.” he mumbled, a hand grabbing your wrist. You stared down at the gloveless hand, thinking back to all those times those hands have touched you, and made you cry his name.

You stood there, waiting for him to say something, feeling his fingers tighten around your wrist. You wish you could see what expression he had on his face, what he must be looking like right now. If he was staring up at you in confusion, or if he was deep in thought as he held you there. You wish you could really see the man you loved.

Mando’s hand slowly dragged down your hand, fingertips leaving a trail of fire before he grabbed the medpack, placing it where you were sitting. “Come here.” He spoke softly, both hands reaching for you again, a soft grip on your wrist, while the other gently brushed against your thigh, fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“You’re hurt.” You weakly protested, already feeling yourself moving closer to him, your body reacting to his simple touches. And he knew it.

He shook his head, “I don’t care.” Knowing that you were going to listen either way. And you did, letting him take your wrist, a hand on your thigh lifting it and settling yourself on his lap, straddling him. You tried to shift your weight, not wanting to put too much on him as you sat there, staring down at his stomach, watching the way his torso rose and fell as he breathed in and out. “You’re not going to hurt me.” You shook your head, knowing that wasn’t the case. His hands made their way to the top of your thighs, thumbs gently rubbing against the fabric of your pants, fingers dipping into your flesh, enjoying the feeling of finally having you in his hands again. “I’ve thought about you.” he spoke again, noticing the way you perked at his words, eyes darting to his visor before back down to his stomach, looking over his bruising. “Every night.” He continued a smile growing on his lips, his hands squeezing your thighs, hearing the soft gasp you produced at his touch.

“I thought about you too.” You whispered, not daring to look up at the man or focus on the way his hands felt so right on your thighs, instead, focusing on your own hands as they lightly touched his bruising, reminding you of the time at the festival as you traced his scars.

Mando watched the way you avoided looking up at him, your eyes trained on his torso, he understood, but he wanted to see you, your eyes, your lips when you smile, the way a light blush grew on your cheeks when hit that perfect spot within you. He had to see it all. “Where’s the child?”

You nodded towards the door, “Sleeping.” You hummed, trying to ignore the feeling of his hands moving upwards, fingers digging into your hips, moving you against his thigh. You suppressed the whimper, feeling the strong muscles rub right against your clothes clit, swallowing the sound.

Mando reached a hand up, hooking a finger under your chin, making you finally look at him, or at least, his visor. He’s thought about this, long and hard ever since the festival, if breaking his creed, for you, was really that bad of an idea. He wanted to see you without the hue of his helmet, without having to be in the dark to be able to actually kiss you and taste you. He wanted you to be able to actually see him.

You could tell that he was thinking, seeing the tilt in his helmet as he stared at you, eyes searching over your face. You only gave him a small smile, grabbing the hand that held your chin, and lifting the fingers to your lips, giving the rough digits soft kisses.

Right there, he decided.

Before you could do anything to stop him, he lifted his other hand quickly, making you blink as he grabbed his helmet, lifting the restriction off with a soft ‘hiss’ and clicking as he did so. You gasped loudly, dropping his hand, lifting your hands to your eyes as you quickly shielded yourself from seeing anything. “What are you doing?” You yelped, hearing the loud ‘clunk’ as the helmet dropped to the floor. “What is wrong with you??”

“Look at me.” He spoke softly, his actual voice sending chills down your spin. No matter how many times you heard it, it always made your body react the same way. You shook your head, feeling as if your heart was ready to explode at what he was doing. “Y/N, please.” he pleaded, wanting this, wanting you to see him.

“Your creed, I can’t.” You whispered. He felt his heart swell once again, knowing how much you respected him as a Mandalorian, even as he decided to break his creed for you, you still couldn’t let him, knowing this meant more to him than anything. But as of lately, and ever since he met you, you meant more to him than a creed.

“Look at me.” He spoke again, softly this time, almost as if he was talking to a startled animal, trying to relax the poor creature. His hands gently pulled at your arms, watching as your fingers slipped from your face, eyes still shut tightly. He chuckled softly, seeing the rise in your eyebrow at the sound. “I’ve thought about this.” He whispered to you, watching as you took a breath in, tongue coming out and licking your bottom lip before letting the deep breath out, his cock twitched at the sight, finally able to see you. “Breaking my creed… for you, it’s what I want.”

“Mando-”

“Din.” He rushed, watching your face contort at the name. “My name.” He clarified, “If you’re going to see me, I want to hear you say my name.”

It was all so much, knowing that this is what he wanted to do, hearing his actual name, knowing that he was doing all of this… for you. “Are you sure?” You questioned, not wanting this just to be the spur of the moment decision, you wanted whatever he wanted. You jumped slightly as you felt two large hands cup your face in a loving embrace, thumbs rubbing at your cheeks.

“I’m sure.”

You took a shuddered breath, opening your eyes.

Din watched as your eyes slowly opened, eyes instantly locking onto his, lips parting as you took in what you saw. Your eyes moved along his face, taking in each and every detail, already trying to burn what you were looking at in your brain, wanting to look at him forever. You reached for him, fingers gently touching his check, his eyes shutting for a moment as he took in the feeling of your fingers on his face, already knowing that this was the right decision.

“Din.” You whispered, his eyes flying open, hearing his name slip from your tongue. He hasn’t heard his name like that in a long time, with so much… love behind it. “You are… simply handsome.” You smiled, trying to look at everything at once. His dark thick eyebrows, dark brown eyes that seemed to only be locked on your face, and shaggy dark brown hair that fell over his forehead. But really caught your attention, was his strong pointed nose and his plump lips, parted as he let you look over him. The moonlight shining across his face, casting a shadow along his features as he stared back at you. He was simply the most gorgeous man you have seen.

He let you explore, eyes on his face, almost like you were afraid he was going to slip away from your mind if you didn’t see every feature. Fingers gently caressing his face, the stubble and face hair scratching along your fingers as you slowly traced his bottom lip, his lips parting, exhaling a shaky breath as you continued your exploration. He knew this was the right choice, see how you didn’t run from him when he didn’t meet what you imagined. “How could you have been hiding such a handsome face from me?” You whispered to him, watching a slight blush rising to his cheeks. You raised an eyebrow, eyes locking onto his, seeing how easily he was able to make blush. You’ve always imagined what he looked like, what colored eyes and hair, what kind of structure he had, but this… you could’ve never imagined this. “I love you, Din.” You smiled, those three words finally making their way out. You supposed, if he was able to take his helmet off for you, you could at least say those three words that bounced around your head whenever you were around him.

Without the helmet, you were free to see his facial expressions, and you didn’t realize how much you were missing out on. His jaw went slack, gulping visibility, eyebrows rising as he heard those three words. You suddenly felt nervous, maybe this wasn’t the right time to be saying something like that, especially after he just took the helmet off, after seeing what he really looked like. Maybe this was all overwhelming to Din. “I… I mean…” You choked out, your body tensing more and more when you realized he wasn’t saying anything, only staring at you with wide eyes. “Say something.” You whispered.

But he didn’t, he simply cupped the back of your head, ignoring the sharp jab of pain from his sides as he pulled you to him, kissing you. You hummed in surprised, before all of the tension in your body melted away, your body slacking against him as he held you to him. His lips were soft and warm, your own parting slightly as he took his chance, his tongue slipping inside, moaning as he tasted you. Warmth consumed you as you kissed him, his strong hands keeping you there, your own clenching the torn shirt in your hands, trying your best to not bump against his bruising as you did so.

No matter how many times the two of you have been in this position, it always took Din by surprise at how exhilarating you were. The way your body completely gave itself to him, how trusting you were as he held you, and how sweet the noises you made. He could never lose you. “I love you.” He mumbled against your lips, a soft whine filling his ears as you heard his words. “I love you, Cyar’ika.”

You pulled back, noses still brushing against one another as you looked up at him, wide eyes staring back at one another. “Din.” You spoke softly, a smile growing on your face. He smiled back, only making your heart swell even more. He swiftly tugged you back against him, a groan mixed of pain and pleasure as he felt you, lips molding themselves to yours again. What was once just a kiss of passion, quickly intensed as he held you, a hand weaving into your hair, the other cupping your cheek. You felt dizzy, as if the world was spinning around you as Din held you, your whole body light as if all the air in your body was going straight to your head. Lips frantically moving against one another. It was all new. Of course, the two of you have been together before, but this time… the two of you knew what the other was feeling, what was going on, and what it could possibly become. The new found feelings you both confessed only fueled you two more.

You slipped your hands under his torn shirt, fingers dancing across his chest, cautious of his wounds as you tugged it up, trying to feel and see more skin. Din pulled away quickly, sitting back, lust blown eyes watching as you pushed the mangled fabric up, careful as you lifted it over his head and down his arm, flinging it to the side. He lunged back on you, lips only inches away before you placed a hand on his chest, a groan of protest from deep in his chest as you pushed him back into the seat. You wanted to see him. Even with the light from the moon, you could tell what happened during this bounty took a toll on him, splotches of red skin, deep bruising that continued to bloom as he sat there. “I’m okay.” He spoke gently, noticing the way your eyebrows pulled closer together as you took in his state.

“You look horrible.” You sadly smiled, trying to keep how you were really feeling deep within. He knew what he was doing, again, he’s been doing this long before you came into his life, but that didn’t make seeing him like this any easier. You felt his hands trail up your arm, light brushes of his fingertips sending shivers through your nerves. You leaned forward, noticing the way Din closed his eyes, ready to feel your lips against his. You smirked as you placed a kiss on his chin, feeling the facial hair brush against your lips, peppering light kisses down his neck, feeling the muscles move as he gulped. “Let me make you feel better.” You mumbled, lips brushing against his jaw, smiling when you felt him shiver. He weakly nodded, feeling his cock twitch yet again within his restraints.

Soft kisses down his neck made him weak, melting into the seat as you did so, softly biting and sucking on his skin. His hands made do, running over your arms and shoulders, before trailing down your back, fingers digging into your sides, your shirt lifting slightly as he pulled you closer to him. You hummed, feeling the tips of your toes drag across the cold floor as he pulled you, strong muscles firmly rubbing against your throbbing pussy. You were a mess, and you just wanted him. “Din.” You whimpered against his neck, a deep guttural moan leaving his lips, finally hearing his name you were moaning. His heart was beating wildly within his chest, your lips on his neck and chest, his name coming out like sweat prayers as he grabbed your waist, it was all so intoxicating. He pulled you even closer, your head lifting up, nose brushing against his cheek as he held you to him, sensitive nipples brushing against the ridges of his chest, the fabric of your shirt collecting around your waist.

“I need you.” Din mumbled, ducking down as he kissed along your neck, soft whimpers of pleasure as he tasted your skin. “Maker, I need you now.” he desperately moaned. You nodded wordlessly, leaned back pulling your tunic over your head. The fabric was barely off your arm as Din grabbed you again, dipping down as he lazily kissed along the tops of your breast, both moaning as he lifted one hand, cupping one breast as his lips wrapped around the nipple of your other. You trembled against his body, his heated mouth wrapped around your sensitive bud while the other nipple was pinched and pulled. You clenched your thighs, whole body heating up as he tasted you.

“Din, please.” You whimpered. He groaned against your breast, feeling himself grow harder as he heard his name again. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to hearing you say his name like that. He continued his assault along your chest, ignoring your weak protests as he nipped and sucked, his free hand grabbing at the small of your back, pushing softly, arching your back, giving him more access.

He mumbles something against your skin, not loud enough for you to pick up. You wrap your arms around his neck, gently dragging your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp as he grunts against you, hips bucking beneath you. You gasp as you felt him, hard and pulsing against you, just begging to be seated in you. You cupped his face, dragging him away from your chest, plump red lips parted as he looked up at you, a blissed look on his face. “Can I ride you?” You honestly didn’t mean for it to come out so innocently, but it worked in your favor when you saw his eyes widen, before he dumbly nodded, as if he’s never heard that before. And maybe he hasn’t.

You lift yourself off his lap, his hands slipping from your waist as you stand in front of him, a smile on your face. He reached for you, kissing along your stomach, feeling his lips turn up as he hooked his fingers into your pants, pushing the material away. He groaned loudly as he saw you, leaning back in his seat, eyes taking in your appearance. You shivered as you felt the cold air, brushing your heated core. “Every night,” He started, working at his own pants, popping the button and tugging on the zipper, “I thought about you.” You blushed, feeling flushed at his words. You kicked the pants away, Din’s hands grabbing you, tugging you back into his lap, pulling you back down as he kissed you. “Can I have you?” He mumbled against your lips,desperate to feel you wrapped around him and with no hesitation you nodded, not trusting yourself to say a word. You reached for his pants, Din lifting his hips as you tugged them down, watching as he sprung free. The tip was a dark red, precum already leaking from the top, making you lick your lips at the sight. He twitched at your reaction, his length throbbing as all he wanted to do was take you right then and there, but he knew you wanted to take your time.

You gently wrapped a hand around his cock, spine tingling as he grunted, thrusting up to meet your hand. He felt hot and heavy within your hand, velvet skin moving against yours as you pumped him, twisting your hand slightly, watching as even more precum dripped, creating some lubricant for your hand. A whole week you went without him, and you thought it only affected you. “Stars, Y/N, please.” He begged, the pleading tone in his voice had the corner of your lips turn up. You ran your thumb across the slit, feeling the wetness collect as you smeared it along his cock, feeling and watching the way he twitched in your hand. Din slipped a hand between your bodies, finding your soaked pussy, your hips grinding against the slightest touch.

“Maker.” You gasped, dropping your head onto his shoulder, feeling his fingers slip past your folds, slipping two fingers into your heat a little too easily. You bucked against the feeling, a muffled moan into his neck as he pumped his fingers.

“So wet.” He mumbled, almost to himself, but you still shamefully nodded, eyes squeezed shut as he touched you. You couldn’t help but rock your hips at the divine feeling of his fingers rubbing at you sensitive tissue, pulling wet lewd noises from between your legs, and sinful moans from your lips.

“I need you, Din.” kissing his neck, a high pitched whine leaving your lips as you lost the feeling of his fingers, the same hand grabbing his cock from you. He pulled you close, breasts squashed against his chest, positioning himself between your folds. He teases you, running the flushed tip of his cock back and forth, tapping against your clit, making you jump at the sharp contact, only whining more for him. “Please.” You begged again, kissing his shoulder. With your final beg, he finally pushed into your clenching hole, his own head dropping onto your shoulder as you slowly sunk down onto him.

“Oh, fuck.” He huffed, feeling you clench around him. You squeezed around him, trembling as you felt him stretch you open, perfectly rubbing against your swollen walls as you lowered yourself down, his hands gripping the flesh of your hips, guiding you. Even though it was only a week without him, it was as if your whole body forgot how thick he was, and just how well he fit within your soaked walls.

You shuddered against him as you felt him fully seated within you, letting yourself adjust to his size, enjoying the way he felt within you and the way he twitched as you squeezed him. You pulled away from him, his own head lifting as the two of you looked at one another. He looked as if he was completely enthralled, heavy eyelids, lines creased between his eyebrows as he felt you. You felt drunk, drunk on Din, drunk on the way he felt within you, drunk on everything he was, and he looked like he felt the same.

You cupped his face, looking over each of his features as he felt you, the shaky breath, the crease in his eyebrows, the absolute fucked out look on his face, and you just started. You gave your hips an experimental grind, watching as his lips parted even more, the crease in his eyebrows growing as he groaned, hands gripping your hips even tighter. You wanted to see every face he made as you rode him.

You lifted yourself up, feeling the sweet drag of his cock, his hands helping you before dragging you back down, your ass slapping against the tops of his thighs. You whined softly, drowning in his scent as he pushed some hair back from your face, cupping your cheek as you continued to move. You lifted your hips slowly, feeling the tip of his cock hit the spongy spot within you, your whole body erupting in chills. You felt as if you couldn’t look away from him, afraid of missing any small detail of him, and you felt as if he felt the same way, his own eyes on your face. “Gods, look at you…” He mumbled, in complete awe of you. You felt dizzy as you nodded, shivering as he spoke. He leaned forward, hands tightening within your hair as he placed kisses along your shoulder, mumbling words against your skin. “So good, wrapped around me.” You nodded, bracing the back of the seat, giving yourself more leverage. You feel absolutely filled to the brim, his cock hitting deeper than you’ve felt before. “Din.” You mumbled, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. His lips brushed against your ear, slurring about how well you’re taking him. You don’t think you could ever get used to his voice without the helmet, it was all so much. With a trembling hand, you shift your fingers through his hair, finding the sweaty curls at the nape of his neck, a slight smile on our face, you never really took Din to have curly hair.

He shudders as you tug on them softly, bucking his hips at the sensation, your toes curling as if you felt him in your throat. “Do it again.” He groaned against your neck, gripping your waist even tighter, helping you ride him. You tugged on his curls, gasping as he pulled his head back, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. He couldn’t handle it anymore, he needed more. He grabbed you, bringing you harder against his thrusts, skin slapping against skin, a rhythm that made your mind go blank as you held onto the seat.

“I-I…” You wanted to say so much, wanted to tell him how good you felt, how bad you wanted this to last, but all you could say was mindless words and grains as he fucked up into you. Din didn’t stay still for long, thrusting into you, almost as if he couldn’t bear to be outside of you, short hard thrusts making you cry each time.

“So good.” Din mumbled, flexing within you, grunting as he felt you clench around him, sucking him deeper within you. “Feel perfect around me.” He huffed, biting down on your bottom lip, loving the way your breasts bounced against his chest, watching the way your hair fanned out, a thin layer of sweat along your forehead, making you look absolutely crazed. You looked as if you’ve been fucked all night, and he knew he needed to make that happen. He released your lip with a small slap, “Gotta have you all the time, sweet thing.” Chills ran down your back at the nickname, “Can’t stand not having you wrapped around me.” A small whimpered left your lips, his words only sending more heat to your lower stomach.

He could feel you get tighter and tighter around him, incoherent mumbles as you breathed. He knew you were close, from the way you felt around him to the fingers you were digging into the nape of his neck. He had to feel it. He grabbed your hair, tugging you back, seeing the blissful state on your face as you looked down at him, bright cheeks and parted plump lips. “You’re close.” He stated, watching as you nodded, feeling the heat build and build. “Lemme feel it.” He sighed, bringing you harder against him, hearing the lewd wetness of your pussy. He glanced down, watching the way his cock slipped from you and sheathed right back within your soaked walls, glistening more and more with each thrust. “Maker.” He gasped, twitching at the sight. You clenched around him at the feeling, shuddering as you bucked against him, whimpering and begging him to keep going. “I’m not gonna stop.” You dropped your head back onto his shoulder, not trusting your neck to keep your head up, but Din had other plans. “No, come on.” He mumbled, pulling you back up, eyes back on his. “Keep riding me.” He felt your thighs twitching, body losing its rhythm as you tried to keep up the pace. Fingers wrapping around your neck softly, just enough to make you look at him. “Say my name when you cum.”

He felt you clench around him at his words before finally her whole body went tense. You spasmed against him, a single sharp cry of his name. “Din!” He felt you tightening around him more and more, tighter than he’s ever felt. You bucked against him, feeling your juices seap from where the two of you were joined, coating the inside of your thighs and his as you bounced on his cock. Legs and thighs twitching like mad as you stared down at Din, jaw slacked, eyebrows scrunched together. You heard the low rumble in his chest as he felt you, his cock pulsing as he grabbed your hips. You collapsed against him, wanting to worry about his bruising, but was surprised when he pulled you even closer, breaths mixing together as he lifted you up and down on his cock.

“I wanna see you cum, Din.” You whispered weakly, your walls clenching wildly around him, feeling overly sensitive as he continued to bounce you on top of him. His thrust soon became frantic, chasing his own high as he drove himself harder within you, ripping more weak whimpers and cries from your lips. “I gotta see you cum.” You whispered against his lips, smiling slightly as he nodded wordlessly.

Your walls fluttered around him as he pulsed, a deep groan of your name as he stilled within you, grinding you against his thighs as thick, ropes of cum filled you. You watched as his jaw dropped, eyes firmly shut, ragged breaths as he bucked against you, his cock twitching and pulsing as you milked him dry.

The cockpit felt as if it was a sauna, thick air around the two of you, the smell of sweat and sexs filled the air as the two of you took deep breaths in, trying to calm down from such an activity. Din peeled his fingers from you, dragging his hands up your back, feeling the cool layer of sweat that covered your bodies. You felt sticky, tired and completely fucked out as you sat on Din, his cock softening but neither of you cared to move.

“I love you.” You whispered once again, nudging his cheek with your nose, a cheeky smile on your face as he dropped his head back to the seat, eyes shut. You kissed down his neck, tasting the sweat as you moved to the other side of his neck, peppering more kisses. He hummed at your actions, fingers gently caressing your back.

“I love you.” He whispered back, the words sending chills down your spine.

“Do you need me to move?” You mumbled, moving your hips slightly, smirking as he gripped your thighs, stopping you.

“No.” He shook, keeping you to him, enjoying the weight of you on him. “Just stay right there.”

Mando tag List:

@hayley-the-comet @unciejensen @talesfromtheguild @roxypeanut @sirianisrock @yelyahcardella @officiallyunofficialperson @luna6499 @bxxbxy @readsalot73 @blblalabla @blackravena @crowwleys @mcueveryday @anthenglen @mazzellobaby @triggerhappyflygirl @himarisolace

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

Note

Oh dear, please, we need a part three to the Silva x specialist!reader, because part two kind of broke my heart. Please please give us more to this story!

Part one // Part two

Pairing: Saul Silva x specialist!reader

===============================

“You made your choice Saul. These are the consequences.”

The words played on loops until madness settles in his head. He can hardly breathe, each breath coming in short, piercing gasps in desperation followed by a thundering heart’s attempt to break through the bony confines of his rib cage.

“Did I mean anything to you at all?” Her voice is low, oddly calm in this emotional storm she’s struggling to contain.

If she was a fairy, she would have let her chaos explode. In a way, Y/N envied the fairies for that particular reason - no one expected them to keep a leveled head at all times. They were allowed to show emotion even if it was dangerous as hell.

Specialists were denied the same privilege, often suppressing their emotions - love, sadness, rage, all of it was buried deep under and she hated it. She hated using logic instead of her heart - the same heart that ached for the man before her even after he had betrayed her.

But did he betray her?

After all, he wasn’t hers.

Swallowing thickly, Saul’s eyes harden despite the inner turmoil of his heart pleading with his mind to stop the act. His head had determined that the relationship would be highly inappropriate and asking Y/N to wait until graduation, for the next three years? That would be cruel.

“You’re my favorite student.” Saul manages to say as if each word didn’t tear into him.

After a year of getting to know Y/N, he couldn’t imagine loving another and yet he had to let her go. He’s not much older than her, but he’s old enough to know better. She deserves to experience the joys of being young and unattached, especially not to men like him who still had so much to prove and baggage that would steal her peace of mind.

Snorting, Y/N chuckles dryly. Shaking her head with her hands on her hips, she turns to the door with a determination Saul found terrifying, but also pain that etched itself into his memory for the rest of his life.

“You’ll come to regret this moment, Saul. I promise you that.” Standing at the door, she stares at him with an inkling of hope. She’s hoping he’ll stop her from leaving. She’s hoping he will give in, just for a night and admit how he feels.

“Go”, Saul tells her when in reality, he’s hoping she doesn’t. He’s hoping she stays and tells him to stop being a coward. He’s hoping she screams at him, because if she’s angry then it means one day they might have a chance.

But she doesn’t. She nods to herself as if she had been given what she needed to leave and forget about him. The sight of his lips on another didn’t turn her away, but this conversation had ended their relationship before it ever began and Y/N knew the years to follow would be difficult.

Unfortunately for Saul, he’ll never manage to forget her.

Being Saul Silva’s student will make it immensely difficult to forget him, but Y/N won’t let him see how hard it is for her. She refuses to be weak with him ever again.

Consequences. It’s all he can think about now as he sits with his back against an old tree, shivering as the infection clouds his mind and the blood loss weakens him further.

The consequence of his actions have lead to him being alone when facing certain death. He’s alone and he has so much to tell her, to explain he never felt complete since the day she left the academy.

“Will you tell her now?” Farah steps beside Saul, a small smile upon her lips. “She’s leaving tomorrow. She’s no longer a student.”

“It wouldn’t be fair to her.” Saul sighs as his eyes linger on Y/N and the newest boyfriend she has wrapped around her little finger.

It’s been very difficult to watch others have her in all the ways he wished he could. Y/N had never once been single during her time in Alfea while Saul remained in the shadows, watching over her.

He had stepped in once when one of her boyfriends seemed interested in taking advantage of her while drunk, but she’ll never know it was him who carried her to her room and watched over her until morning. It’s the one night he remembers feeling helpless, scared for her.

Y/N never needed him before or after that night.

“She might want a say in how your story ends”, Farah warns him but Saul knows that he had hurt her. He hurt her more than he ever thought was possible. She tried to hide it, but he knew.

“I’m not good enough for her, Farah. She deserves more and I can’t give it to her.”

She was his student, the best he’d ever had. She was there and he’d often feel her lingering, longing gaze on him whenever she believed he couldn’t see her. Maybe she thought he just didn’t notice her, but he did. He was painfully aware of every touch they shared in training, of the way her heart would speed up whenever he needed to show her the proper way of performing certain movements he was sure she could do without help.

But she was leaving and he won’t stop her. She’s spreading her wings, she’s making all her dreams come true. She’ll do all the things she wanted without him there holding her back. He wants nothing more than for her to take the world by a storm and he’d silently be cheering her own.

He hopes she’ll find happiness, even if it’s without him.

But as she turns to him, her eyes meeting his, Saul can see she’s not happy as he watches her go.

“She’ll thank me one day”, Saul straightens up, keeping his head high. Y/N can’t see the sliver of hope lingering in his desperate eyes, the kind of hope that makes him believe this isn’t the end of their story at all.

Saul had held his hand to the slash, but no matter the pressure he applied the blood had still gushed between his fingers and oozed under his hand. At first it came thick and strong, flowing through his fingers as they clasped the ripped flesh. He felt the blood move over his hand, the thick fluid no warmer or cooler than his own skin. After a few moments more the blood was still leaving his rapidly paling flesh, but the pulses were slower, weaker.

Once the fairies found him, he felt himself hope again. Even if he’s to die to the infection, maybe Y/N will see him before he’s lost. Maybe he’ll tell her he loves her and he’s loved her all this time. Maybe she’ll take pity on him and tell him she loves him back, even if it’s a lie.

He held tightly onto the young fairies helping him back to Alfea. He grits his teeth to stop himself from crying out in pain.

While Saul was being dragged into Alfea, Y/N stood by Sky and Stella who seemed shaken up. Stella’s eyes widen as Y/N follows her line of vision only to feel the color draining from her face. Her heart sinks, her breath caught in her throat as she leans over the bannister with mouth open in shock.

Y/N wants to call out to Saul, to have him look up and smile to reassure her, but she can’t make a sound. Her legs move on their own as she runs, the last conversation playing in loops until it’s madness in her head.

Once again, Y/N is jealous of the fairies and their ability to show emotions. A fairy could cry out and no one would scrutinize them for it. Y/N couldn’t cry even if she wanted to. She had been taught not to.

She nearly falls to her knees as she opens the door to the greenhouse, finding Saul had lost consciousness and the blood was gushing from his wounds without signs of stopping.

Reacting on instinct, she grabs the gauze and presses it against his skin with shaky hands. She can’t hear the voices around her, but she’s applying pressure on Saul’s wounds with quivering lips forming his name like a silent prayer, over and over as if it could save him.

Tags: @organabanks

Part 4

#saul silva x reader #saul silva #saul silva imagine #saul silva angst #fate the winx saga #fate the winx saga fic #fate the winx saga fanfic

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

Text

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 4.4

"I don't feel any different," you answered Zhongli's questions as you examined your reflection in the mirror. They had explained everything there is to know about the situation now. My eyes... Your fingertips touched the glass in which they stared back at you. "Will my eyes return to normal?"

"As far as I recall my last encounter with this incident, no. They will remain true to the eyes of their savior."

"But if Childe's joining us..."

"Just say you have contacts," Aether shrugged.

"Contacts?" You and Zhongli jinxed yourselves.

"Is...that not a thing in this world?" Your confused expressions gave him the answer he needed. "They're basically...well...colored objects that you can put on your eyes. They can be used to replace glasses or to change eye color."

"U-uh, okay..."

"Just say you got them from a merchant travelling from Fontaine. They gave me a kamera device, so I'm sure these could fall under their expertise, right?"

"Perhaps," said Zhongli.

"I'm not sure I can do this."

"It's really not that big of a deal!" Paimon comforted. "We can answer for you if he asks in front of us!"

"No, not that," you sighed. "I'm not sure if I can pretend we're on good terms after Granny died. I mean, he took the house from her and kept it all a secret from me."

"You won't have to," Xiao's voice came from the far wall. "As long as you're the only one visibly suspicious, we can still make this work."

The team packed their essentials and left Quince Village. Xiao said he had something to attend to, so no one waited for him. That was until you passed by the cemetery on the way out of the village.

He was there, standing at your Granny's grave, with a bundle of silk flowers and glaze lilies in his hand. You stopped alone in your tracks while the others continued to walk along the path, unaware of the rare sight of Xiao mourning a mortal soul. His expression revealed nothing that was going through his mind as he placed the bouquet against the stone.

It was kind of...unsettling, actually. The beautiful scenery coupled with a beautiful young man wearing a solemn frown as he stared at the rock in front of him; the rain clouds passing overhead having yet to release a single tear; the fresh flowers placed next to your wilted ones. A simple reminder that death was inevitable and that his death too, would also one day come to pass. It was eerie, yet the sight filled your chest with a warm fuzziness. He was paying his respects to a mortal that had no relation to him, but he did it for you.

You walked away before he had the chance to sense your presence.

............................

"Adeptus Xiao! And...you, Traveler?" Ver Goldet's panic transformed into a slight confusion before she shook her head to refocus on the matter at hand. She glanced around to make sure they were alone on the balcony of Wangshu Inn. "I have some urgent news to discuss with you, Xiao."

"Say it."

Goldet glanced questioningly at you and Zhongli before continuing. "T-there was a harbinger here."

"Childe?" Aether shifted.

"No, no." She shook her head frantically. "Well, yes, but no. Childe and another harbinger were here. A woman."

"Signora?" The traveler tensed, as did Paimon.

"What is she doing in Liyue? I thought she still had business with Mondstat?" The mascot shared a nervous glance with Aether.

"I think so," Goldet nodded at Aether. "I didn't know what to do. It's unusual that there would be two harbingers in the same area, especially out in the open like this. I think a storm is coming."

Xiao and Zhongli exchanged worried looks before the adeptus spoke. "I will look into it."

"Thank you, Xiao. Let me prepare some almond tofu as a token of appreciation."

The yaksha noticeably perked up hearing this, and you choked back a laugh. So adorable! That thought had unknowingly reached Xiao, bringing a dusting of pink to the tips of his ears. You were too busy gushing over him to notice.

Once Ver Goldet left for the kitchen, you asked the question that was on everyone's minds. "Now what?"

"We stick to the plan," answered Xiao, though there was a subtle hint of concern in his voice.

"And you're sure you're not allowed to interfere?" You addressed Zhongli with furrowed brows.

"I formed a contract. I cannot break it."

...................................

The adventure team was camping just east of Luhua Pool. You were at the bank of the pool, gathering water in a bucket so that the group could use it to cook lunch. It wouldn't be long before the team reached Liyue Harbor and rendezvous with Childe. A shiver crawled down your spine every time you thought about it.

Can I really keep my temper in check when we team up with him again? No...But then again, we usually butt heads every day. Maybe he'd see it as normal? You took the opportunity to scoop water in your hands and take a sip. Mm, such a crisp feeling. You gathered more, this time gazing into the water's reflection.

"What the f--!" You scrambled to your feet and your sword was now in your hands. "W-what the hell, Tartaglia?!" Adrenaline fueled your thumping heart.

"Ahahaha! Sorry, sorry!" He chuckled loud enough to scare the nearby cranes away. "And here I thought I'd have to travel further to catch up with you all. It's been what, a week? It feels so long ago. So, comrade, where is everyone?"

You readjusted your grip on your weapon and kept it pointed at him. Your breath was uneven to the point of slight hyperventilation. They're a hundred yards away from here. Should I tell him? Your eyes flicked behind the harbinger.

"Ah," he noticed your glance and peered over his shoulder. "Well, did you need help with that bucket?"

"Stay back," you ordered through clenched teeth. Your hands were shaking now.

"There's no need to point that at me," Childe's smile faded rather quickly. He reached towards you--

"I said STAY BACK!" Your shout was enough to scare the fish away.

Childe raised his hands in surrender. "What's gotten into you? Did something happen?" He examined you carefully. "And what happened to your eyes?"

"Hey!" Paimon and Aether waved at the top of the hill and interrupted the tension in the air. "We were on our way to get you!"

The harbinger dropped his hands and turned around. "Greetings! You should've seen the look on her face! I just about scared her half to death," he returned his gaze to you and his voice trailed off at the last sentence as if he were making a fool out of you for being so paranoid. "Now then, I should take that for you." He picked the bucket up and began walking towards Aether, his lips forming a frown once Zhongli and Xiao came into view.

You collapsed to your knees once the adrenaline left your body and your sword fell out of your hands. One of them made their way up to your chest and clenched the fabric that covered it in an effort to calm your heartbeat. He was here, and sooner than expected. He could have struck you down if Aether and Paimon hadn't shown up then.

"Are you okay?" Xiao appeared before you.

"Uh-huh," you inhaled shakily. Your fear overshadowed your anger towards the harbinger. Why you had gotten so terrified, you weren't sure. "He came out of nowhere."

"He's dead if he lays a finger on you," Xiao muttered aloud. He held his hand out, and you took it.

Late afternoon, early evening. You were growing increasingly agitated at Childe's insistence of a fight. "I'm not in the mood, Childe," you growled.

"Oh come now, ojou-chan! It's clear you want to fight me nooow," he cooed. "I'll just keep annoying you until you decide to entertain me! And besides, I think you secretly want to take out your pent-up rage on me, no?"

You glared daggers at him. "Oh? And what do you think I'm angry for?" You stomped towards him until you were looking directly up at him.

"Dunno," he shrugged with a smug smirk. "Care to indulge me?"

"Fine." You yanked your sword out of the tree stump you had stabbed it into. "Come at me."

"Uh...should we stop them?" Paimon twiddled with her fingers as she watched you resume a fighting stance.

"I-I don't know," Aether scratched the back of his head and looked to the adepti for a solution. They just watched you in silence.

"I thought you'd never ask, ojou-chan," he licked his lower lip and rushed at you. You ducked before his hydro blade could hit your head and slashed your sword at his torso. Childe dodged and countered. His weapon collided with yours above your head. "Would you care to tell me why you suddenly hold a grudge against me?"

"Tch. I'll pass." You pushed his blade back and used the momentum to lunge at him. He shoved you to the ground and pointed his blade at you.

"You've gotten sloppier," his lips curled into a sneer. "Looks like we still have work to do on your swordsmanship."

"I'm just getting started." You rose to your feet and readied your sword.

"Do not let anger consume you, comrade. It will seal your defeat. Instead, hone it as a weapon," he advised you as the two of you clashed for the second round.

"I don't need your advice!"

He twirled his weapon and gracefully disarmed you. Your sword clattered to the ground a few feet away. "It's clear you do. I've mastered every weapon known to man. If you think you can scrape by and conquer your foes without learning from me, you're wrong."

If it's his goal to get to me, then why train me? You plucked your sword off the ground and stared at its hilt in your palm. You caught the Xiao's reflection on the steel blade, and a strange light obscured your vision.

Images upon images upon images. Bloody battles. The clashing of metal. The hollow screams of daemons past. The rush of adrenaline, the thrill of battle. The overwhelming sense of dread. An icy shock burst through your bones, and you suddenly felt wide awake and hyperaware of your surroundings.

"Again." Childe resumed his fighting stance and thrust his weapon towards you.

The light blocking your sight faded and you instinctually sliced your blade through the air. You parried his blow without so much as looking at him. How did I do that? You faced him and realized he was just as surprised as you were.

"Good," a spark lit his eyes up now. He thrust his weapon at you again, this time at your head. And again, at your side. And once more at your legs.

You parried every attack, and with unmatched agility too. Then it was your turn. You turned the tables and began attacking him, less recklessly than you usually fought. He eyed you carefully, dodging and parrying your sword, but did not strike back even when you were wide open. Thinking and analyzing.

I never taught her these moves, he grit his teeth and sent an annoyed glance toward the yaksha. How did he manage to improve her skills so suddenly? He may have done endurance training with her, but I never once saw them practice combat. He taught her this past week, didn't he?

"Not bad," Childe praised as he leapt back. "You've been holding out on me, haven't you, ojou-chan?" He took note of the predator-like look in your eyes, much like that damned yaksha's.

You swallowed your surprise and glanced at your sword. These movements weren't my own. They were Xiao's. You sent a subtle glance his way, and noticed that Zhongli had a small smile on his face. Xiao's expression was as unreadable as ever, but he was no longer crossing his arms.

"You shouldn't take your eyes off your opponent," the Harbinger swung his lance at you. You spun yourself downward and swept his legs from beneath him. "Ngh!" He landed on his butt and dropped his weapon.

"Who said I wasn't paying attention?"

Coming up next: A harbinger’s interrogation, the hunt for teeth, and Dragonspine.

#genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #fanfiction #xiao fanfiction #xiao one shots #xiao imagines #genshin impact imagines

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legendaryoikawa · 3 years

Text

ares / suna rintarou / masterlist

pairing: suna x female reader

word count: 2k

synopsis: your stalker must’ve adore you so so much, he intends to kill for you.

quote: “If you're that obsessed with someone, why would you kill her? Humans are full of contradictions.” - Ai Yazawa

genre: stalker!au, caters mature themes such as manipulation, voyeurism, public masturbation, murder, violence coercion, borderline obsession.

note: i do not condone these behavior in real life. this is just a work of fiction.

minors dni

taglist: @boosyboo9206 @dokisaki (can’t tag) @godjo@flavostella02 @heykoutaro (can’t tag) @aleacarnin@licitix@katsukis-sad-angel@k-sakura @dokisuki (can’t tag) @black-water-78@throughtheinterstices @iloverarepares @newfriendjen @aizawaslovebot @ratatouille407 @midnightartist @ya-kkun @daicrie @mochipk @kanesshiiweeb @134340-cm @svgafresh @annexerca @neavil @paigypol (can’t tag) @aggressivelyshoutsokay thank you for the love and support!

BE PART OF MY TAGLIST HERE

Truly an ace of all fools.

Ares, the god of war. As Homer called him, murderous, bloodstained, the incarnate curse of mortals.

Name it, Suna knows every possible if not, unique ways to kill. He prefers the crowbar as it’s efficient and easy enough to send a person to their graves. For his very own pleasure. It fuels him especially when he sees those eyes that were once full of life drown down to darkness of death.

Suna is known as one of the notorious lads at school. He never fails to leave an astonished look to every person he has passed by at school. People are stunned whenever he walks down the hallway with his school shirt unbuttoned and crumpled. His overall appearance is unruly with the noticeable scars that lingered on his face like ches. His disheveled jet black hair. Eyes that bore nothing but darkness. Chains dangling from each of his ears. His aura that is explainable and unassailable that could even strike the thunderbolt of the great god Zeus.

Suna is handsome. He looks like bad news. Wild.

He wielded an enormous influence among girls. Some swoon at the mere sight of him; others even resorted to some chase yet ended up a crying mess. Boys even fall for his charms, but one sharp glance is enough to wave them off like flies.

However, you on the other hand are not fazed by him nor his silhouette. Which made him to be drained by a pure soul like you.

Suna is so private and closed like an abandoned establishment and that could be the sole reason why people want to pry into his life. He had everyone controlled on the palm of his hand but he can’t seem to play with you like he initially plans to.

Suna has the patience of a boar. He shows signs of violence that it’s alarming. But people seem to be in love at his bad boy facade, no one dares to report him.

He is a living contradiction. Suna is a ride, a deadly one.

He comes to school with his boisterous friends that look exactly like how he presents himself. You can always hear their uproarious banters about their lives, endless wolf-whistling. They are the group of boys you wouldn’t want to mess with. Especially the mysterious Suna.

You made a promise to get the shit out of the tracks that had traces of the boisterous boy that is Suna.

Not just the boys that have brought out the never ending fiasco circulating around your highschool. There have been a high number of mysterious disappearances of students that you may have never heard of or slightly familiar to you that you cannot recall. Their skulls are cracked open with a brute force or a bullet to the head. Some are strangled, some are mutilated, and what makes it terrifying is that most of the victims are leading down to you.

You can still remember how Kang Hana spent her afternoon with you in the library for a philosophy project. You admit it yourself that Hana isn’t the preferable company. She’s too nosy, noisy and quite violent towards you as she keeps on hitting you on the arm whenever you spill something stupid. Nevertheless, you held no grudge towards the girl. And you were really stunned at the news of her sudden death.

Oh, you didn’t know someone was watching from the windows of the library outside. Irritability bubbles inside his body like a brook. He allows no one to go near you, let alone to hit you like a ragged doll. He always had a thing for you, he didn’t know when it started but by the way you looked at him like you are almost something to be disregarded. He is drawn to you like a moth to the flame.

It is always in Suna’s system. His mind is a bully, gushing him to do things that would make him thrilled, something that could awaken his fantasies.

He wants to kill. And he did.

He stood in all his glory, wearing his uninterested look while scrutinizing the other students walking along the hall. There at the lockers he spots Kang Hana awkwardly fumbling with the entangled bag straps.

His dark eyes bore into Hana’s figure. Eyeing her from head to toe. At this moment he is thinking of what he can possibly do with those limbs. Break it? Smash it? Mutilate it like how they do in the slaughterhouse? Suna approaches her figure, his switchblade ready in his windbreaker’s pockets.

He breaths, trying to muster his oh-so-charming smile. “Hey.”

Hana raises up her gaze and she is surprised that the notorious Suna is approaching her. Only if she knew his real intentions. “Oh my god. Hey.”

Suna is charming. Quite egocentric. It doesn’t take him long to persuade someone to sp with him or to go out on a date with him. If there is something you should be afraid about Suna, it is his ability to deceive people without them knowing his real motives. He has a calm demeanor but sometimes his arrogance fuels him to be so wild-driven.

He leads Hana to the abandoned establishment at the rundown part of the town. He made sure to give her a signal to meet him outside where no witnesses could see them. It’s always a step when considering crime, get rid of witnesses.

At this moment, Hana starts to get excited because she has foreseen what could happen. For her it’s sex. For him, it’s blood. Suna draws his switchblade near her carotid artery. She widens her eyes but laughter resonates in the eerie place.

She purrs. “I am a kinky person but I can try knife play.”

Suna doesn’t play. He draws the knife deeper to her neck until she realizes he is not joking at all. Kang Hana’s heart made a beeline for her throat and tried to make a f for her life but Suna had his strong hand gripping her hair.

She struggles but after every move she dares, the knife further penetrates her neck. Beads of sweat are dropping down to her cheeks. A hot sticky liquid from where the knife is trickling down her neck, dampening her collarbones down to her bra. She cries loud. “What do you want?!”

Suna smirks. He misses the familiar scent of blood flooding in his nostrils. “Your life.”

Her eyes widened in pure horror as the charming prince transformed quickly as a ruthless psychopath in just the blink of her eye. Hana tries to fight against his hold once again but Suna wants to finish off and not to take care of a wailing woman.

He repeatedly lash out the knife through her neck. The impact of his pounds set out her blood gushing out, splashing his pale cheeks. His right hand is dripping with her hot blood. Suna’s chest rose as his breathing became ragged but overall he felt so alive and content. He stares at Hana’s figure sprawled on the floor bathing with the pool of her own blood. Suna felt so driven with just crimson clouding his vision. He runs his tongue on the rows of his pearly teeth, a sinister smile tugging the corners of his lips. He did it for you.

The following days have been hell for you. No, you weren’t killed but you faced a frightening number of police interrogations for the victims were always drawing down to you. Like Hana, you were the last person she was with before her neck was slashed out like a cow in the slaughterhouse. The pulse of a blue and red strobe from the police mace being parked in the circular driveway. You stare at the officer's badge, his holstered Glock. The night air settles the eerie night, still, gauzy full of humidity.

The interview lasts about a good hour but you are deemed innocent as Hana’s whereabouts where the crime took place didn’t match your activity. Her clothes are missing on the spot but the investigators found it drenched in this liquid they believed was an oxygen producing detergent didn’t match. Since the laboratory personnel couldn’t get any fingerprints from her body, it has been declared useless for the crime.

It has been weeks since you find yourself able to breathe again but it didn’t last long when you were bombarded with unknown and creepy messages that you couldn’t withstand at all.

I know you. From everything you do, I know it all.

You belong to me, your full name.

I find it romantic to see how excited you look whenever I send these messages. Shall I start sending my pictures as well? Or the throne I made for you?

From morning you go to your mother’s flower shop to gather primrose to deliver to your grandfather that lives in the twenty second street downtown.

Your favorite thing to do is to draw, my sweet. I am right, am I? I’m always right.

I saw you talk to that small loser from class D. Now don’t ever talk to him again or you will see his head delivered right at your doorstep. I love you and I’m being the nice guy here.

Do you perhaps like the idea of your friend's limbs personally delivered to you? Your pick.

I am always watching you, your name.

Oh, you had a museum date with your friends? Don’t go, I am at your grandmother’s restaurant, she serves the ultimate broth soup. Too bad I can stop her from serving these delicacies.

I know deep down, you love me too. Don’t you ever try to date behind my back without telling me. I did kill for you.

Your parents aren’t home. Do you want me to visit?

So much love for you. Your long secret admirer :)

I love you. I will kill for you.

He isn’t joking. He knows everything about you. All the meticulous details no one knows but your family. Whenever you receive a message from him, your heart would pound against your rib cage. It terrifies you to the core that he exactly knows the precise details of your whereabouts.

You immediately reported this matter to the police, to your parents but it didn’t settle the problem. The number isn’t traceable. They keep on insisting that the number used is from an unregistered sim. You fear for your life, your personal space, everything.

You weren’t just experiencing the never ending terror of your stalker’s messages. But some of your things are now starting to disappear, from your bracelets, your baby pictures now, now, your white lacy underwear.

You are blissfully unaware of the pair of eyes that follows every movement as you exit the school grounds. He looks down on his hand, gripping his favorite underwear of you. He had a picture when you wore the garment, and it was his favorite among all.

He makes his way to his heavily tinted car, a smile never leaving Suna's face as he clutches the garment tightly on his hands. His soulless eyes stared back at him the moment he stared at the rear view mirror. And drives to the nearest convenience store.

He keeps on fantasizing about you. The way your name rolls out of his tongue while jerking out never fails to send himself to ecstasy. He can’t wait to meet you, but one thing he is sure of, he will be watching you tonight.

Suna is always a step ahead of his plans. He is meticulous and calculative. His plans never backfire for he knew what methods to use. For the days he has been killing he already knows how to get rid of evidence that could lead to him. The boy’s got a sharp tongue as well, a serpent’s, he uses lies to cover up the real Suna that hides behind the charming facade he puts front.

He wore black. Black that is a mystery. Eerie. He wears a black bucket hat that covers his beautiful features that compliments his youth. Despite the dusk ebbing its way, his moles are always as alive as the constellation. He secures his mask tighter on both ears, as appealing as it sounds, he cannot show his face to you, just not yet. He had a thing to do, he had something to accomplish.

“Just in time” he breathed into the shadows. His eyes follow your figure marching down the dim lit streets. A smirk paints his lips as you still try to swat everything and thinking to yourself everything is still normal. But no, not until he is dead. He could have easily needle out your background from Kita but you were his and it gives him satisfaction whenever he discovers something about you. Things that aren’t open for others but just for him.

He immediately hid behind a large tree, once you entered your home. He makes sure to secure a great and measurable distance from him to you, not so far yet so near. He clenches his fist, the idea of watching you undress from your windows sends him a big wave of pleasure.

He begins to scramble up trying to get a hold of the strongest branch his forearm could manage. Some twigs tried to interrupt him midway but nothing can stop a hungry predator from lurking on his prey. He finds the perfect spot just parallel to your window.

“Fuck” he hiss as he felt his phone vibrate from his pocket. “What it is now fucking Atsumu?”

“Lover boy, I forgot to place your camera in your bag, bye.”

The camera is not his top most concern. He has his phone that is full of you.

You were humming quietly. He follows your hands, removing your school blouse that left the boy’s mouth agape. His cock immediately hardens at the sight, and he cannot risk himself to jerk while on the tree. He scrambles immediately, carelessly fishing out for his phone to take a picture of you naked.

Suna is always not satisfied with the bare minimum. He records you, doing your private thing in your room. He is biting hard on his lips, his erection sticking out painfully against his pants. He has to endure much longer till you have finished your routine applying lotion to your shiny long legs. Those legs that he can’t wait to touch.

Suna left the place shortly. He’s astounded. You drive him wild and wild he is. You fuel the monster more.

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crookedmusician · 3 years

Text

Once Again

A/N:- This is just a drabble that popped up in my head and is based on "The Amazing Spider-Man" universe, NOT based on the Marvel mcu. If you haven't watched the movies then pls read this with an open mind. The drabble is also fixed in a time that is five years after Gwen dies and is completely based on my thought and universe. Please don't read it if you're not comfortable.

Peter Parker x Fem Reader

Genre : Slight Angst, Comfort, Slice of Life

Warnings : Very Slight and descriptive mentions of wounds and death, the characters are all adults, Y/N has a defined profession for the sake of the plot

*This is also not proof read so please bare with any errors if there are any*

It's been Five years.

Five years since Gwen's funeral. Five years since New York city was almost destroyed. Five Years since an innocent boy lost his sanity to death. Five Years since Peter Parker was too late to save his love, his best friend and his emotions to grief.

It had been Five years since that faithful day that still seemed to haunt Peter from time to time.

After the......incident happened, five years ago, Peter had shut off. He didn't talk, eat or even go to work. His job was willing to let him off that time, but the mental pressure that had bundled up inside Peter's head had refused to go. As a result, even after Peter came back, he was only a shell of himself, an empty treasure from which the gold had been stolen - just like how life was stolen from the eyes of so many he failed to save on that one dreadful day.

But If anything broke Peter more than his incompetency to save the lives of those millions he failed, it was the death of Gwen. Death of the only person Peter beleived to have given him a purpose to be Spiderman and save the city and it's residents. His reason to survive every battle he fought. His best friends, girlfriend and his reason, to just live.

Peter still remembers that day, that moment as clear as day. He still remembers the catastrophe that was caused that day, the destruction, the smell of death and spilled blood that matted the air in a heavy silence. He still remembers how the life wilted out from Gwen's eyes as she fell from the tower, as he held her afterwards; he still remembers how her once warm body turned deadly pale, her cheeks stopped sport the regular blush - and they all haunted him. They Traumatized Peter through his day, haunted his nightmares and swam in front of his mind each and every moment he lived. So Peter did the only thing he thought might help, he shut off everyone out of his life, he shut off the flow of emotions in his being, & he swore to never let anyone in, he vowed to not care about anything except defending NYC against the new villains attacking everyday.

Cause Peter Parker may have been a hero, but his emotions flowed through his veins as thickly as the spider's venom in his blood. So promised, to shut out and never let anyone in. That became his coping mechanism.

Yet again, five years later that same spider-boy found himself in the exact position he had been in, five years prior - sitting on the bed of a rooftop apartment while the huge scratches on his chest were being cleaned by the slender hands of a young woman sitting in front of him. It was an awkward kind of deja vu for Peter - Both hurting and comforting to know that someone - other than May cared for him still, however the recollection couldn't help but bring those ugly thoughts back into the forefront of Peter's mind. The same thoughts that occupied his mind in the waking hours.

The scratches burned and sizzled under the alcohol, even though it was applied with softness and expertise; but Peter didn't Flinch. Yes, there was a slight wince here and there, but no reaction revealed was too strong. Years of constant battle against the seemingly never-ending villains of New York happened to make Peter a bit more cautions and tolerating of his injuries - something that seemed to work greatly in favour of Peter at the moment - so as to not make the budding doctor in front overthink her capabilities.

Was New York always so needy and loud for the Spider-Man? This was something that occupied Peter's head often.

However, when he thought back on it, perhaps it was better for him to put his life on the line than have someone innocent or desiderate to live to fight the devils.

I mean, he did fit all the requirements for this job didn't he?

He was young, had the abilities, tolerant of the aftermaths of the fights he carried carved in his skin, bones and blood. Moreover he didn't have anyone to rely on or care for - May would be able to live with him, his job wasn't so special to him if he didn't require the money either. On the contrary Peter thought it to be a blessing to die - to forget all the turmoils, catastrophes of the world; to forget how many villains needed to be fought or how many people needed to be saved - to just forget.

Peter always thought, that maybe he wasn't made for love. That maybe he didn't deserve it. He thought about how everyone he loved left him, deserted him and thinking back on them, he just wondered how much love favoured him in this life. Maybe love didn't favour him at all, maybe love hated him, maybe that's why death always won in each of his chapters. Maybe that's why, Peter had become a void - because love refused to favour the life of this boy. He never really understood why lover never looked upon him with a smile. But guess there was never really an explanation for some grudges.

But if love never favoured him, Then what was this sudden weird electric sparks coursing through his body? This weird fluttering that seemed to keep him up at nights thinking about this one person that flew in his life and and broke past all his resolves to nestle herself comfortably inside the confines of the walls surrounding his heart?

And Peter really never could understand what was happening in his body. At first he thought that perhaps it was his spidey senses. But after a while, when he actually came to a conclusion, he was dumbfounded. Being deprived of love and refusing the comfort of any other hands rather than his own for such a long time - the revelation - was actually quite unexpected by him.

But to say that Peter didn't see all of the unfolding and development of feelings, would be a mistake. Mayhaps, Peter did knew what was happening, did knew that he was falling in a bottomless hole; but the feeling of letting go, the feeling that encompassed the journey was so blissfull it was hard to deny himself the pleasure after denying it for such a long while.

So we recount to a faithful afternoon, two years prior, to an empty & silent alley in one of the bustling streets of NYC.

XXX ♤♡◇♧ XXX

It was just another day in the life of Peter Parker - waking up, packing his suit, taking an early leave or going on a feild trip for his job only to fight the villains and end up all bloody. The only difference was the gushing wound on one of Peter's upper legs that seemed way worse than his regular wounds.

Peter seeked sanctum in one of the empty alleys of the New York Streets to treat the wound only to find himself looking sideways at a young bespectacled woman with curious eyes, hair in a messy bun, clutching one strap of a heavy-looking backpack with some folders and pages in the other - she was staring at him with worry in her orbs.

Usually it wouldn't have been a problem, he'd hit up some pick up lines and flee as far as possible with his wounded leg and never meet the girl again - it was simple and easy without any damage to either his social or personal life. And it would've been easy and simple - Only if Peter had been wearing his mask. But he sadly wasn't, and now he gazed back like a deer caught in the headlights as the figure approached him slowly and cautiously and stopped a few feet away.

"Can you walk?" The words were almost whispered with caution.

"Excuse me?" Peter said in a breathless voice; swinging through the city with an almost torn-off leg does hurt more than Peter imagined, after all.

"Can You walk? With that leg of yours?"

"Yes, I suppose. But why?" Peter asked with confusion and weariness.

"Then please come to the top floor. I can treat your wound."

The clutch of the strap got a bit tighter as the words tumbled out of her lips in the hushed silence of the alley. To say Peter was surprised would be an understatement; it had been a while since someone willingly wanted to help him. But then again, Peyer wasn't weak, was he? He surely could handle that little much laceration wound on his own, right? So just like Peter have always done, to all his colleagues, his neighbours, supposed friends, associates and May, he declined.

"Thank you for the offer but I can Handle this on my own," Peter uttered in the same dazed voice, opting to turn his head down as if signalling the end of the conversation.

"I'm sure you can," the voice chirped again to fill the whispery silence, "to the best of your abilities, but It would be better if I had a look at it. I'm a medical student so I'll be able to ptch it up reall quick too. Besides to treat you'd have to either swing or walk back to your home, and you really can't do either with that deep of a cut anyways. So let me have a look at it, please."

"I said I you do-"

"No you can't, you may clean it or patch it up until you can do it up but the slash is huge, don't you see? If you don't treat it immediately, your whole leg would either get infected or you'll bleed to raw. And I don't think you'l be able to swing your way around the city with a half infected leg anyways. So Please for your leg's sake enter the third window from the right on the top floor of this building so I can nurse the damage. I'll try to get there ASAP," and with that the girl hurried inside a door on the side of the monument on right.

Peter however, was still failing to recover from his daze, and by the time her words actually registered in his head the wound had started to sizzle with wind. He gathered his own stuffed backpack and as slowly and painlessly he can, followed the instructions.

Peter swung to top of the building & crept insided the bedroom of a rooftop apartment that looked very comfy despite being a complete definition catastrophe to found himself in a pair of freshly washed shirt and jogging shorts half an hour later - the girl said they belonged to her father and brother previously.

Peter stared at the unknown woman as she wrapped up the incision in a white cloth. Her fingers were skilled & worked in a quick yet sure manner.

"You can handle pain very well you know?" The woman broke the awkward silence with a glance at Peter's face only find him staring back at her with a monotone face, "the area around the gash had already started getting infected, if I found you a bit later your leg might've fallen off. Still you're very lucky. Thankfuy no valuable nerve was heavily dama-"

"Why are you helping me?" The rambling was interupted by the strict and straight voice of the spidey

"Excuse me?"

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because I can? Am I not allowed to help you? You looked like you needed some serious help though," The woman asked tilting her head slightly.

"Is it a plot?" Years of practice had certainly helped Peter maintain a Poker face, which came in handy as he stared at the confused eyes of the woman in front of him - his heart deeming the expression to be cute.

"A plot?" The woman repeated as she looked at him in disbelief, "You think l'm helping you because l'm involved in a...a...a stupid gang or something that wants to murder you?"

"Or it could be an individual plan," Peter shrugged nonchalantly as he dared not remove his eyes from his supposed - captor.

"An individual pl-?"

"Why else would you help me? If not for your own benefit?"

At this The woman seemed to become a little pissed at Peter's words as she sputtered with her next sentences before finally giving a coherent reply, "Maybe fighting with evel people all your life makes you heroes feel as if good people don't exist but trust me, they do. And quite contrary to your assumptions I just so happen to be one of them."

The woman tied the cloth around Peter's leg in a tight knot & rose from her seat collecting the equipments back in her first aid box, opting to leave the room, offended - instead finding herself halting mid-step at peter's voice calling out to her.

"I'm Peter," Peter gazed at her retreating figure and as she turned around to look at him with judging eyes, "Peter Parker."

The words were uttered into the sunset in a softer tone - as if the speaker was almost shy, which - looking back at the circumstances - Peter probably was. And as the dying rays of the sun filtered through the drawn back curtain of the only window in the room - the one Peter had entered through - encasing the room in all it's ethereal glow, Peter was able to finally get a glimpse of his healer, clearly.

The rays fell on the bed and on womanly figure, bathing her in the delicate glow of dusk, highlighting her dainty features. She was handsome, very much so in the afyernoon light; and despite being pissed and offended a few mintues prior, she took her time in tilting the corners of her lips into a soft amd pleasant smile as the injured man stared at her in awe - that was perfectly hidden beneath his Poker Face.

"I'm Y/N L/N." The names etched itself in Peter's brain ringing sweet bells everytime, serenading him into calmness.

And so since that fateful day, it became a regular event. Whenevr Peter would get hurt - no matter how small or big the wound, he'd always find himself on the doorstep (or window sill), of the tenth floor building on the same street he never remembered the name of. And slowly as the days swept by, the visits weren't just limited to treating wounds. Infact, contary to either of their professions, Peter found both of them had quite a lot in common, and their opinions generally matched - and for the ones that didn't, both of their adjustable manners suited the situations. And as the days brew into nights, Peter found a companion in Y/N - one that Peter hoped lasted for life.

Peter found a best friend to look after him and talk with on rainy days and summer evenings.

××× ♤♡◇♧ ×××

Now, two years later as Peter sat on the same bed he had so many times before, he thought back on all the bitter and sweet memories Life gifted him, and perhaps they were needed for Peter to bring him to this point in life - and Peter never wanted to go back.

It was late. The sun had gone down a few hours prior and the moon glowed brightly in the sky, peeking in through the windows as Peter observed the familliar figure beside him - nursing another one of Peter's daily unwanted gifts.

She looked dainty, almost unreal as the moonlight illuminated the room casting it in the soft glow of night time. As Peter gazed at her, he started carving out all the plains and roughs of her faces, the shape of her eyes, lips and nose, the way her lithe fingers glided across Peter's skin - and Peter couldn't find it in himself to intrupt the dance her fingers were engaged in on his chest. A light breeze swept in through the wind making rounds of the room and messing with the strands hanging around Y/N's face as Peter gazed at the seemingly engaging spiral of movements infront of him.

"Staring is rude, you know?"

The peaceful silence occupying the room was suddenly broken, giving Peter a small start, as Y/N lifted her head barely so as to glance up at Peter's face, her lips curving into a small smirk at the look of slight surprise on his face, before her skilled hands resumed their work.

After a breif moment of comprehension - and more staring as Y/N wrapped up the gashes and stood up to starighten the sheets on the bed as much she could with the tall figure lying on top, Peter finally found his voice strong enough to utter the two words - that he hoped would convey all that was unsaid and all that he wanted to say but couldn't.

"Thank You."

Y/N looked up once again at Peter with a teasing yet soft grin and breathy chuckle, "Pete, don't be so modest about yourself. Patching up your wounds provide me an excuse to practise my skills on a regular basis. And as a junior doc, It's more benifitting to me that it is to you."

Peter let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as Y/N turned around to put the first aid box at the top of one of her bedroom shelves, "Still thank you, for everything you've done for me. I really appreciate it."

And this time as Y/N turned around to look at her best friend, she paused for a second, taking in the scene before her. The moon casted the same glow on Peter's form as it had on her back - except this time, the star gazed one was Y/N.

She had always wondered how she never once felt awkward with the close proximity, she always seemed to share with Peter. Her heart once whispered because they were menat to be; but the rational part of her brain was quick to shut down the irrational daydream before it could flourish. However the warmth of her cheeks when Peter looked at her, the tiny fluttering in her stomach whenever he'd smile, the warmth in her being when they hugged couldn't be stopped from spreading all through her body.

There were nights, when she wondered how it would be if she was brave enough to turn the page to the next chapter and just ask her best friend out. But then again, even though happiness was granted if the proposal was accepted - the pain, heartbreak and loss of warmth in their friendship, at the refusal was granted in a much greater probability. And thus Y/N drifted off to sleep every night thinking of all the 'ifs' of the world.

But this wasn't the world of dreams, it was the waking world, and as Y/N realised the soft glow in Peter's eyes when he looked at her, she wondered - no, hoped that her feeling might probably be reciprocated.

"It's honestly no biggie Pete. It really isn't," She neared the bed as she said the words, finally sitting upon it with one leg folded on the matress and the othe rdangling down the side, her eyes searched Peter's face carefully noticing the genuine-ness behind Peter's words, "however what is a problem is that you've hadn't had a single mouthful since the meager breakfast this morning. Honestly dude, don't you ever get hungry? If I wa sin your place I'd be starving! Heck, I'm starving even now!"

Peter let out a small breathy laugh at Y/N's dramatics. She always tended to be the more dramatic one, especially regarding matters of food. So sporting a soft smile he looked up Y/N.

"No I'm fine, I'd just have something to eat when i get home."

"Home? Do you even know how late it is?! It's," she hekd up the digital clock on the side of her bed, "9.15 already! You literally live on the other side of the city! By the time you reach your home it would be way past 10! I ain't letting you starve till then boy!"

By now, Y/n had stood up on her feet in front of the bed with her hands on her hips - and Peter found it to be way too cute for her, "Call up Aunt May and tell her that you'll be eating here today. I'll go and start whipping something up in the kitchen, ok?"

"Ok."

"Good," Y/N turned around & exited the room heading down the halls to the kitchen, to scour how much she can that would fill both her and Peter up, while Peter rested on her bed.

Ever since that incident five years ago, Peter had always wondered that maybe love wasn't really meant for him, that maybe love didn't favour him. But now, as he stared at the moonlit retreating figure of Y/N L/N, he prayed to all the love gods in existence, to favour him just this once as he drafted up the same confession, he had been drafting for the past years, to finally come out of his heart and in to minds of the beauty he called his bestfriend.

A/N : Pls tell me how you like it in the comments this is my first story and I would really appreciate the feedback!

Please don't repost or rwupload my work anywhere apart from here.

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

I wrote this in response to a comment from the amazing @thingr2 and I figured why not share it

pairing: Geraskier (pre-slash)

summary: The origin of Geralt’s brilliantly stupid selkimore-fighting-strategy of getting swallowed by it

word count: ~1k

content warnings: mention of blood and monster guts, briefly Geralt thinks he is going to die

The first time he was swallowed was an actual accident. For a moment Geralt thought this was it, this was where the Path ended for him.

It didn't.

He thought of the terrified villagers who'd have noone to defend them if Geralt didn't make it back. He thought of his brothers and Vesemir waiting for him at the keep and of how long it would take them to realise and accept that he wouldn't be coming back. Not this winter. Never again.

He thought of Jaskier. How Geralt would never see him again. How the last thing Geralt had said to him was that Jaskier should stay back, that he would only be in the way on this hunt. He had been right, of course, but that didn't change the fact that what flashed through Geralt’s mind now was the dejected look on Jaskier's face and a wave of regret.

He fought and he bled and he made it out. Somehow, he survived and dragged himself back to Jaskier.

No matter how scared Geralt had been when the monster's jaws closed around him, plunging him into darkness, it had been nothing compared to the look of pure terror he saw on Jaskier's face now.

"Geralt!" Jaskier's voice broke and his trembling hands hovered uselessly above him, unsure where to touch, where to begin searching him for injuries underneath the guts that covered him.

"I'm fine," Geralt said, forcing his voice to soften. All he wanted to do was get a bath to scrub the guts off and then fall into bed, but Jaskier looked so afraid. Afraid for him.Geralt couldn’t just ignore him, despite how tempting a bath sounded.

"What happened?"

"Fought the selkimore." Jaskier stared at him in ingredulous silence for so long, that Geralt squirmed uncomfortably and added, "Got swallowed."

"You what?" A disbelieving laugh escaped Jaskier. It wasn't exactly joyful, but it was better than the fear that had shimmered in his eyes just moments ago. "You're mad.” Jaskier said it as if it was something to be awed about. "You got swallowed by a selkimore and took it down from the inside. You're absolutely mad, you wonderful, brilliant witcher."

There was something in the way Jaskier looked at him, almost adoringly despite the disgusting way he looked right now, that set something off inside Geralt. An uncomfortable warmth that spread through his chest into every last part of him.

If he could have blushed, he was sure Jaskier could have seen the heat rising in his cheeks. Geralf needed this to stop.

"That's just how you fight them," he lied gruffly and pushed past Jaskier to the bath that was waiting for him. "The easiest way to get to the vulnerable weak spots."

He paused. He was lying out of his arse, but actually... Well, it had worked, hadn't it?

Shaking his head to stop those foolish thoughts, he dropped his clothes to the floor uncaringly and sank down into the water.

Cleaning himself off the guts was easier said then done. He grunted as he tried and miserably failed to get all of it out of his hair.

Something dropped on his haid, a gush of water from above. He sputtered and turned to Jaskier, a stormy expression on his face.

Jaskier just shrugged, not even looking sheepish. It seemed now that he could see for himself that Geralt's body was mostly unharmed, all nervousness had fallen away and left the bard brazen and idiotic as ever.

"Just thought you could need some help," he said with a shit-eating grin that didn't quite match his tone. The tips of his fingers were still trembling.

"By dumping a whole bucket on me?" Geralt wanted to scowl at Jaskier, he really did. But how could he keep the corner of his lips from twitching up when Jaskier's eyes were lit up with mirth?

"What else was I supposed to do? Tenderly wash your hair and massage your back? While you're covered in that? No thank you." He snorted. "Try coming back from a hunt a tad bit cleaner and I'll think about it."

Geralt grunted and turned away, but the damage was already done. The mental image of Jaskier's gentle hands on his body was already seared into his mind, as was the way his eyes crinkled with laughter as he needled Geralt about the made-up witcher-startegy of letting themselves get swallowed.

By the time Geralt was finished telling him the sparse details - it wasn't as if there was much he could have seen in the dark belly of the beast and even if he had been able to see he had been to distracted by not dying to remember all the details - Jaskier was full on laughing about the absurdity of it all.

It felt nice. Almost worth it. Not quite though.

That came later, when as they lay in bed, Jaskier was scooting closer to him, letting their arms brush so many times that it couldn't possibly be a coincidence.

"I'm glad you didn't die," Jaskier whispered into the dark, a hint of concern coloring his voice and Geralt felt his usually slow heart pick up its pace.

"Wasn't in danger," he lied. "That's just how it's done."

"Well, then, I'm glad that you witchers are a mad bunch that come up with ways to fight that don't put you in danger while also making for the best stories."

Geralt stayed quiet. He didn't move towards Jaskier, but he also didn't pull away when Jaskier's hand came up to play with his hair absent-mindedly as he drifted off to sleep.

The next time he met a selkimore, he thought of Jaskier before doing anything that could get him in danger.

He thought if his concern, his laugh and his shining eyes. He thought of the way Jaskier had clasped his shoulder as a goodbye and told him to "have fun getting swallowed again. And this time I expect the full report with a the grimy details." He thought about how maybe this time he would immediately get greeted by a loud laugh when Geralt saw him again. Geralt would still be tired and exhausted and possibly hurt, but Jaskier laughing was better by far than the memory of his fear from last time.

Geralt thought of the way Lambert would take the piss out of him for doing this and Vesemir would shake his head in disapproval but take notes when Geralt would see them next and tell them about this new way he had found of dealing with selkimores.

The beast roared, unhinging it's jaws like snake ready to swallow its prey whole. Geralt sighed, brazing himself.

"Fuck it," he said and lifted his sword before he jumped right into the monster's maw.

#Geraskier #witcher #witcher fanfic #my writing #geralt #jaskier #fic

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swarmkeepers · 3 years

Note

riz & gorgug for #5! ✨

5. heard you tell the same story multiple times but doesn’t point it out to you when you excitedly bring it up to them again + riz & gorgug (prompts linked here)

(starting immediately post-fhsy, and a little more angsty than the other prompt fills so far because it deals with some of the aftermath of spring break. sometimes friendship is late nights and brownie recipes and old stories.)

There are forty minutes left until Elmville when Riz digs his claws into the headrest of the passenger’s seat and clambers over the seat backs to sit shotgun in the Hangvan.

Everyone else is asleep, or as Riz suspects in Tracker’s case as she stays oddly still as a human pillow for Kristen in the backseat, at least pretending to. But Riz is quest-restless even though they’re heading home, and Gorgug’s awake because he’s driving, and both of their darkvision light up the street ahead for them.

Gorgug doesn’t look surprised when Riz lands in the seat next to him. Of course. Because his whole party knows that Riz doesn’t sleep, or at least has to be told to, or has to know that there are hit points to be regenerated and a fight to be alert for the next day.

Streetlights speed by and Gorgug brings the van to a smooth stop at a light, accelerating smoothly up afterwards to not jostle anyone in the backseat. He’s practiced, easy, calm. Meanwhile, Riz’s thoughts are a messy turbulent maelstrom. He can’t sleep, and after everything in the Nightmare Forest if he never saw a bed again it’d be too soon. But, forget sleep, his brain isn’t even letting him relax right now, and Riz is struggling to figure out the questions that are on the tip of his tongue. His fingers itch for a ball of red string, trying to figure out why he wanted to be up here with the passenger seat and the windshield and Gorgug.

“What’s being a barbarian like?” he asks quietly, and Gorgug doesn’t exactly startle but does tip his head to the side curiously.

“Can I ask why?”

“I’m—angry,” Riz says, surprising himself, but it feels true enough. “I killed Kalina, but she said she was with me my whole life. And I hate that.” He wants to hiss, to bare his teeth and make the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but it’s not Gorgug he’s mad at. “Sometimes I wonder if I should use that to. Hit things.”

“Okay,” Gorgug says.

“And you—you know about that. About being angry, and not being. As comfortable. Or at least you’ve said stuff like that.” Riz picks at his long fingernails, pretending to be nonchalant and not looking up to see if Gorgug’s insight is better than his shitty attempt at deception.

“Tell me about why you wanted to be a rogue?” Gorgug asks instead, and Riz understands it’s not really a question. He trusts Gorgug. He thinks about it.

“Um, my mom was always a detective, I guess. And my dad was a spy, but I guess I didn’t know that.” Riz spends a lot of his time thinking. He’s realizing he doesn’t spend a lot of time thinking about himself. Maybe he needs to make a new conspiracy board. “Uh. I guess the first time I ever saw Penny sneak attack someone was really cool, I definitely knew I wanted to do that.”

Gorgug makes a soft hm? noise that asks Riz to keep talking. “Because I was little and Penny’s little too, and we were at the mall and some asshole catcalled her? And oh, man, you should have seen her, Penny was probably an Aguefort freshman then? But she told me to hide behind this vending machine and—”

They’re all the way home, with the Mordred Manor crew taking their stuff out of the trunk while Gorgug and Riz keep talking. Riz finished his story hurriedly as they pulled into the driveway, ending with Penny teaching Riz to make brownie bars at Strongtower after the sneak attack incident and being so cool and badass and nonchalant about making that guy’s nose gush with blood. He’s talking fast and gesturing big like he doesn’t usually, caught up in a story that he can tell well and that he hadn’t thought of in a while. Him and his rogue friends are tiny badasses.

“That was a good story,” Gorgug says. “Rogues seem pretty cool.”

Riz grins, all his fangs out and happy in the driveway of the manor. “Thanks, dude.”

“I think you can be angry and not a barbarian,” Gorgug says, gently.

And “Okay,” Riz says, gentled.

It’s the tail end of one of Fabian’s all-out summertime ragers. The Bad Kids are in a big cuddle pile that barely fits on the picnic blanket on the lawn of Seacaster Manor, and Gorgug’s at the very bottom. Riz is tipsy on half a beer (goblin metabolisms are not good and it’s not his fault) and he thinks Gorgug looks a little lonely, lying on his stomach and tapping at his crystal with all the wind knocked out of him from everyone lying on top. He scrambles down the pile of friend-bodies and sits on the grass by Gorgug. Riz racks his brain for something good to say. He doesn’t want Gorgug to be lonely, not when Riz is going to be up all night and Riz is usually the lonely one.

“Di’ I ever tell you about the first time I saw someone get sneak attacked,” Riz says, words big and bubbly and coming out too fast. He doesn’t care, he’s buzzed and happy and Gorgug looks like he could use a good story.

“I don’t remember, tell me,” Gorgug says, putting his crystal down face down so its glow goes dark.

“Oh man, you’re going to love this story. It was, like, me ‘n Penny at the mall, and there was this real asshole of a dude, and I didn’t know Penny went to Aguefort but she took out this knife? And it was like she flew at him—”

At some point in the story Gorgug falls asleep, and Riz is more pleased than annoyed. He looks cozy. And not lonely.

“What’s this, The Ball?” Fabian asks when Riz takes a fantasy tupperware of brownie bars out of his briefcase and puts it on the the table in the cafeteria.

“They’re sneak attack brownies,” Riz says.

It evidently does not clear up any of Fabian’s questions.

“Penny—Penny Luckstone?—they’re her recipe, she taught me how to make them the same day I ever saw her sneak attack a dude,” he explains. “She like, jumped out from behind one of those fake potted plants at the mall and slashed him so bad with a dagger and then she didn’t even get sneak attack on it but she also socked him in the nose and it was like the coolest thing I’d ever seen. And then she just went home and washed the blood off her fist and then we made brownies.” He puts a hand on his chest. “And I’ll never forget it.”

“Okay, The Ball,” Fabian says, but he takes a brownie.

Next to him, Gorgug’s already halfway into his second, nodding happily and energetically so his hair flops in front of his face. “I love that story!” he says. He’s all leaned in, listening to Riz’s story.

Riz lights up—he’s no Fabian, with expensive magical gifts, and he’s no Gorgug either with little artificed trinkets and sweeping big gestures. But he’d remembered the story and remembered the brownies and wanted to make some, and he’s just glad his friends like them as much as he does.

“Because the secret ingredient is sour cream,” Riz confides. Fabian fake-sputters, sending tiny brownie crumbs everywhere, and Gorgug swats at him.

“You were eating it just fine before!” Gorgug says indignantly. “Respect the brownie, dude!”

“You’re right, Gorgug,” Fabian sighs. He takes another bite. “They’re not bad, The Ball.”

Riz only dimly registers footsteps pounding up the stairs and also a greataxe brute forcing its way through the booby traps at his office door. His crystal is abandoned on the floor next to him, the last text he sent to Gorgug still on the screen. It’d been “Having a bad time. At my office. Can you come help? Thanks, Riz” and it’d been typed out with shaky fingers as his breaths started coming too fast, the way it does whenever he lets himself be alone in his own office for too long. Riz hates it but he needs help. He forgot the period on that text and it’s been staring at him for the past few minutes.

His brain is whirring too fast—Shadow Cat, Kalina’s eyes in his own eyes, Baron in his mirror in his own office, darkness and danger and Fabian in churning waters, he died in that forest and so did Adaine and so could any of his friends, bullets dodged and bullets fired and it’s too much, too much. His breaths are coming too fast but also not fast enough. Riz feels suffocated.

He’s wedged himself into his own briefcase of holding, the sides squeezing his arms in a way that’s grounding and comforting when nobody else is here in his office to help.

But Gorgug is. Gorgug is here to help now. He skids to a stop in front of Riz and sits on the floor and Riz only dimly registers it out of the corner of his eye where his head is curled into his chest trying to make himself small, make himself safe.

“Riz, can I touch you?”

Riz does his best to nod and Gorgug just wraps long lanky boy arms around his torso, gently lifting Riz out of his own briefcase and settling him in Gorgug’s lap as they sit on the floor of the office. He doesn’t let go, just squeezes tighter. It’s so much help, and also— “Can you. Talk? Anything— Anything’s fine,” Riz says.

“Um. Sure, Riz. I guess I can. I could list a recipe? My parents have been trying to teach me to cook more, for when we go to college in a couple of years. I’m sorry, I’m not like Adaine, I don’t have lots of interesting things memorized,” Gorgug says, apologetic. Riz wants to be able to tell him not to be, but he’s a little preoccupied trying to make his brain tell his lungs to breathe.

“Uh, so these are called sneak attack brownies?” Gorgug says hesitantly. Riz realizes what he’s doing and tries to laugh, the giggle interrupting the choked breath he was trying to take.

“They’re called sneak attack brownies because they’re my badass friend’s recipe. And he learned it from his badass friend. Um, I don’t know this super well, actually, but I really should by now and I’m just going to keep talking and if it’s wrong then I guess it’s wrong? I know that you need chocolate for a brownie. And eggs and sugar. You told me the secret ingredient is sour cream.”

Riz nods, thudding his head into Gorgug’s chest a little. He takes a deep breath. Gorgug’s hoodie is soft. And he’s a good listener.

“Right, uh. After sour cream. Flour. And butter?”

“The butter’s— the butter’s unsalted,” Riz manages to eke out, voice small and quiet and mostly talking to his own knees.

“Got you. Unsalted butter,” Gorgug agrees, easy as anything.

“Penny said— Penny said that dude she punched’s tears were salty enough, that’s how I remember it,” Riz tells him.

“Tell me more?” Gorgug asks, and he waits patiently as Riz lets his brain just focus on a recipe, an easy recipe and a badass story. It helps, to be given something focused to do. And Riz is just so, so glad he has friends who will give that to him, will listen over and over again when Riz needs to talk.

And Gorgug waits. And Riz tells him.

from the prompt list linked here! i’m closing prompts from this particular list simply because i have so many excellent ones to get through

#i love these soft bois and i hope you do too!#this got. truly so long i am so sorry #the green team. the nerd boys. the people with proficiency with guns.#they're GOOD FRIENDS gorgug is a GOOD LISTENER riz makes BADASS BROWNIES #food #fantasy high #sophomore year #gorgug thistlespring #riz gukgak #sola said #sola ficced #sola prompted #nonbinarywithaknife #sola answered #yes i know they don't get home to mordred at night but poetic license okay #also 'gorgug and riz in riz's office at night' and 'gorgug and riz in gorgug's van at night' feel like tropes for these two by now #and i'm here for it

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minerstatus · 3 years

Text

Teyvat’s School for the Gifted

Summary: He's cruel, mean, and sadistic. Lumine cannot fathom why he has the followers he does, but she won't fall into his hands like the rest of them. It was unknown to her at that time how such a stance would cause the biggest uproar the schools ever seen.

This is the silly drama filled high school/college parody AU nobody asked for filled with Lumine not giving a shit and Childe trying to buy his way out of problems.

Ship: Lumine/Childe

Tags: Highschool AU, Enemies to lovers, Slow burn, Jealousy, lots of side ships.

Status: 5/? on Ao3

Chapter 1

The school located on an island inside the neutral zones between nations is a blessing for anyone without a swimming pool filled with mora. Without money you have to be gifted a vision to attend. That is why Lumine thought she would never be accepted to such a place. Instead cursed to live her life on a small farm on the outskirts of Mondstadt, killing small monsters for money to aid her ailing mother.

She had become quite the prodigy around the area. Her sword work was nothing to be trifled with. Some would even gush about what it would be like if she did have a vision. Then it happened, a strange string of life changing events.

She enjoyed spending her free time sitting under the statue of the seven in windrise. It gave her a reprieve from her day-to-day life of school, killing, then sleep. She polished her blade most days she sat there, enjoying the sounds of the wilderness around her.

As she sheathed her blade, wistfully thinking about what it would be like to magically summon and desummon it as a vision user, a light began to shine behind her. There was a flash, she thought maybe a vision might appear in front of her. But this was no test or life changing event. It didn’t make sense.

Wind surrounded her body, lifting her skit in the breeze. She turned, it followed with her. She lifted her hand as a power surged through her. A burst of wind jetted from her palm and sliced across the water. It trimmed the tops off the over grown grasses lining the ponds edge. The wind died down and left her for elsewhere as the light slowly faded out of existence.

Befuddled, she stared at the palms of her hands. She felt a power emanating from her core. With a trembling arm she raised her palm again, calling forth on the energy. It darted from her as before. Shocked, she tried it again and again, smiling gleefully with each blast of wind. She twirled around, searching for her vision, but came up empty.

That is how the first visionless anemo user was born. At first people didn’t believe her. Delusions were not unknown to the common folk of Teyvat. They were a staple favorite of the mafia families across the regions. But she quickly smashed those theories to pieces. Not only was she a poor farm girl fighting to survive, but where on earth would she have the money to afford such a thing. She allowed an inspection of her things and a pat down to prove it.

After the authorities decided that she did not have a vision she was free to do as she wished. That was until the head master of Teyvat’s school for the gifted showed up on her doorstep. The scholarship she was offered would give more money to her mother per month than she could in six months of hunting. She took it without question.

That’s how she ended up here, gawking at the building in front of her. The school defied the rumors. Statues carved from marble, fountains that defied gravity, even the wood it was built from looked impossibly expensive. Heck, the wildlife looked like they ate from golden platters.

The only thing that held her from running right back to the boat was a woman pinning her down with a chemically assisted cheerful gaze. A shiver ran up her spine as she waved her over. She obliged only because her eyes looked a hair away from snapping into crazy land.

“Welcome to Teyvat’s finest Lumine!” She cheered and began to clap.

“Thanks,” She mumbled, intimidated by her nature. She looked like a robot. Sleek black hair, not a strand out of place. Perfectly pressed blazer and pencil skirt in matching shades. Her glasses glistening in the sunlight, even if they were just plain black frames. She hoped not everyone in this school looked or felt this way.

“Follow me and I'll take you to your dorm. Then it’s a trip around campus!” She quipped then turned on her heel. Even her footsteps were a perfect tempo.

They walked through the faculty building, which thankfully looked normal inside. The site quelled her turning stomach. It was into the garden next that, as expected, looked immaculate. They even had a massive sand garden. Back in Mondstadt something like that would be destroyed in seconds.

Eventually they came upon another wooden building with a large ‘girls’ over it. The woman stopped and spun so fast on her heel Lumine almost let out small scream.

“This is the girl's dorm; your roommates are waiting for you inside with your things. I'll be back in thirty minutes for the rest of the tour,” she said, smile never once faltering as she left Lumine to her own devices.

Her roommates were nice, they greeted her in the common room just as her guide stated. Amber was a bit too enthusiastic for just about anything. Barbara was a very cheerful girl but was more reserved. It was a breath of fresh air to see two friendly faces. They led her to their dorm to get settled.

“So, what do you think?” Amber asked as Lumine began to unpack her luggage. Placing her uniforms carefully into her small closet along with her own casual clothing. Her own things almost felt dirty comparted to the schools uniform she was provided. And the room was much bigger than what she expected from a dormitory.

“It's overwhelming,” She admitted.

“You'll get used to it,” Amber laughed.

“Are you?” Lumine began to ask.

“Scholarship,” Amber answered, holding up her vision, “They keep the poor kids together so we don’t infect the rich kids.” She laughed.

“Hey!” Barbara yelled at her. Lips pointing into a pout.

“Except for Barbara, she requested to room with me. She's the exception.” Amber smiled at her friend.

“So, it's exactly how I thought it would be,” Lumine grumbled. This school was probably dripping with rich kids causing trouble for the normal folk, like she expected.

“Some of the students are alright, indifferent you might say. But there are,” Amber held up her hands as air quotes, “those types.”

“Will you guys be in my classes?” She asked.

“Nope, third years!”

Lumine felt her insides twist. Great, now she would be alone on her first day. At least her dorm would be nice. Amber was warm and friendly and Barbara seemed sweet even if she wasn’t talking as much. The pair would only be a year below her so they were still close in age. Hopefully she wouldn’t be moved to another dorm with the ‘adults’ if she attends the next four years after this one.

“You don’t want to be in our year anyways,” Barbara laughed.

“Whys that?” Lumine felt a small smile form for the first time since she set foot on the island. Barbara wiggled her eyebrows and gleamed over at Amber. She turned red in response and threw a pillow at her.

“Stop! Its not my fault!” She shouted.

“It’s gross the way he drools over his desk for you,” Barbara added.

“Mind filling me in?” Lumine asked.

“No!” Amber shouted.

“She has this wolf boy that follows her around and causes trouble. Its adorable,” Barbara said anyways.

“I didn’t ask for it he just did it!” Amber defended herself.

“It's like a comedy slash horror show every day,” Barbara giggled.

“Stop teasing me,” Amber whined.

“Wolf boy?” Lumine asked. Mondstadt had a steady population of people descendant of shape shifters or animals, but she had never seen a wolf before. Most of them were cats. Granted, she did keep to herself and didn’t really mix with the town folk, even at school.

“Half werewolf, half human, grew up in the wild before coming here earlier in the year,” Amber explained.

“He can smell everything, it's awful,” Barbara moaned, “one time I tried to bring some leftovers from lunch and he almost ripped apart my bag looking for it.”

“Sounds like a nice boyfriend,” Lumine said, hiding her smile as she sorted items into her desk drawers. Amber gasped from behind her. She swallowed a laugh.

“H-he's not my boyfriend!” She yelled. Lumine busted and began to giggled along with Barbara. She was interested in seeing the exchanges between the two now.

“Very funny guys, I'll make sure to make fun of your pain in suffering next time I get the chance.” Amber crossed her arms.

“Alright I'll stop,” Barbara waved her hand at her. A sharp knock on the door quickly soured the cheerful mood. The door swung open and Lumine’s guide walked in.

“Fantastic, I'm so glad you are getting along with your new housemates. We must complete the tour now.” The woman said, still as cheerful as ever. Lumine noticed Barbara and Ambers shoulders fell on her entrance. “I'll be waiting out front,” she chirped and left.

“God, Mrs.Lee always gives me the creeps,” Amber said.

“Glad it's not just me,” Lumine laughed as she stood.

“Good luck! See you at dinner,” Amber waved as Lumine exited the room. She heard faint whispers of gossip as she left but knew it was nothing bad, those girls didn’t have a mean bone in them.

They walked around campus and Lumine slowly became accustomed to the wildly expensive taste. She was shown the inside of the year one through four buildings, for the fourteen-to-eighteen-year old's. Then the outside of the adult facilities. Mrs. Lee assured the only real difference between the two was the uniform requirement and some extra freedoms.

After taking the tour she felt less overwhelmed, but it was the final stop that really cemented the reality most of the students lived in. It was the cafeteria of the school, but should have been classified as a food court. There was the line for the scholarship students where they could use one of three free meal tickets per day, or a snack coupon, all loaded onto her school ID. Wich was normal, same thing that she had in Mondstadt, minus the dinner.

What was different was the restaurants lining the walls. Everything you could imagine from each region on tap. And the prices were nothing to scoff at. A Fishermans toast was going for ten thousand mora, she could make that for less than three hundred back home. Lines scaled out to the isles as students waited, eager to be robbed for food.

“Lumine!” A familiar voice shouted. She sighed in relief. A distraction to this insanity was required right about now. She carried her tray adorned with less appetizing food from the school over to the table Amber sat at.

“This place is crazy,” Lumine sighed in exhaustion.

“My first day I ran away,” Amber laughed. She placed a spoon full of mac and cheese into her mouth.

“Those prices are more than I make in three weeks back home,” She said as she began to eat. Pleasantly surprised that even the free food was delectable. The pasta was perfectly cooked, cheese sauce an ideal creamy texture. She moved on to nibble at her cookie, baked expertly with a crispy outside and a gooey center. “God,” she murmured, savoring the taste.

“I told you, you get used to it,” Amber smiled sweetly. A book bag slamming down on the table instantly cleared her face. She looked up to see what she assumed was the wolf boy from earlier discussions. Lumine wondered why Amber felt it was bad to have his attention. He was attractive, silver hair and red eyes, giving him an exotic look. His arms were coated in scars and a massive one gashed his face, not a bad look if your into that type. Some of the girls back home would swoon over the attention.

“Why,” She groaned as he pulled out a seat, pushing it right up against hers as he sat a plate of meat and potatoes down. It must have been one of the free creature meals from the school line. He sat, making sure he was as close as physically possible to her.

Okay, maybe that’s why. Lumine began to understand.

He tilted his head like a new puppy, “Why?” He asked, voice thick with an unknown accent.

“We talked about this,” She shoved his chair away. “This is Razor,” She sighed as he sunk into his chair to pout. Lumine nodded and greeted him with a smile.

“I bought brownies!” Barbara sang as she skipped over to the table, “For our new friend,” She handed out the sweets, “And beef jerky for you,” She said as she handed Razor a slim piece of dried meat. He perked up and took it, chewing on it greedily. After the experience with the cookie Lumine thought the food couldn’t get better. But the brownie was smooth decadent layers of velvet chocolate that melted in her mouth. She had to suppress a groan.

There was a pickup of chatter in the room that pulled her from her chocolate induced fantasy. She looked towards the entrance of the café where a group of boys walked in. They were followed by a gaggle of other students, mostly female, all adorned with an expensive accessory or more.

Lumine was an honest person and she did not deny to herself that these boys looked like royalty. They walked with an air of confidence even through the crowd, knowing that the sea of students would part for them. She counted each of their visions, anemo, geo, cryo and hydro. There was a distinct leader to the group out of the four. A redhead who wore his vision on his belt, showing it off by messily tucking in half of his unkept shirt. Like he wanted people to see it, unlike the rest of them that wore them on chains by their side, as did everyone else in the school.

“Don't stare,” Amber hissed. Lumine snapped her eyes to her friends.

“Who are they?” She asked. Amber eyed her wearily before divulging the information.

“Sons of the school's elite,” She glanced back at the group to ensure they were distracted with food or girls before continuing, “The shorter one with green hair is Xiao, the son of the wangshu inn owner. The geo looking guy is Zhongli from the Wangsheng funeral parlor. Blue hair is Kaeya, one of the sons from the dawn winery.” Amber stopped speaking as she got to the last subject. Lumine quirked a brow as both Barbara and Amber swiveled their heads to check on the group again.

“It's not really them you should be weary of though; besides Xiao they are nice. Xiao has always had a stick up his butt,” Barbara added to the conversation.

“Then what is it, why are we acting like we are defusing a bomb?” Lumine asked.

“It's Childe, the redhead,” Amber whispered.

“Childe? That’s a dumb name,” Lumine thought out loud. The girls hissed at her to keep her voice down.

“He smells mean,” Razor added. Amber pulled on his ear.

“I told you not to talk about him,” She growled at him. He grasped her hand in his, forcing her to release.

“But you are!” he argued.

“Thats because we are warning her!” Amber explained. Razors eyes darted from Ambers to Lumines and he resigned himself back to his half-eaten steak.

Amber rolled her eyes and turned back to Lumine, “It’s not his real name, no one even knows his real name.”

“Childe is an awful nickname,” She whispered back to her friend.

“He’s mean, and evil, once he has you in his sights there's no stopping it.” Amber warned her.

“What about his friends? Don’t they say something?” She asked.

“They are rich, us poor folk don’t matter to them even if they act cordial towards us,” Amber told her as she leaned back, “Besides you don’t have a vision, he will probably just ignore you.”

Lumine widened her eyes, “well...” She felt a tint come to her cheeks, “Actually...”

Amber slammed her fists on the table, “NO WAY! YOUR THAT GIRL!” she screamed. Drawing the attention of half the students.

“Show us!” Barbara insisted.

“Ah, I don’t think now is the best time.” Lumine tried to quell her friend's voices but both girls were oblivious to the attention they were attracting. She glanced over at the red head she was warned about to make sure he was still entranced at whatever activity he had chosen.

“Awh comon I wanna see!” Amber whined.

“First anemo user in history without a vision! Don’t hold out on us!” Barbara added.

“Fine! Just stop yelling at me,” Lumine finally conceded. She put her palm face up on the table and gathered a small amount of wind to it. It tinted green with her power as it swirled into a miniature tornado in her palm.

“This is so cool!” Amber gasped.

“It's the same as anyone else,” Lumine said, closing her hand to cease the wind. She was more than a bit tired of people going ballistic over her powers.

“Let's get back to the dorms,” Amber suggested, “We have much to talk about,” She smiled gleefully. Razor whimpered next to her, “fine you can come too,” She sighed. Razor looked up with a beaming smile.

“Boys are allowed in the girls dorms?” Lumine asked as they gathered their trays and bags.

“Only until eight with a strict open-door policy,” Barbara told her.

She hummed in response as the group made their way over to the trash bins. Eyes were on her now, some searching for a vision trinket she didn’t possess. She was the last one out the door when a chill tingled down her spin. She grabbed the back of her neck and turned, expecting a cryo user to be standing there with a smirk on their face.

Instead, she was greeted with sea blue eyes cutting through the crowd. He smirked when they made eye contact. The chill went down her entire body. She glared as the door to the building swung shut, cutting them off.

Shit.

#chilumi #childe #lumine #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction

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braindeacl · 3 years

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Tidepool Glow | Eilidh & Adam

SETTING: Shrimp Hell. TIMING: Current. PARTIES: @walker-journal & @braindeacl SUMMARY: A hunter, a zombie, and a horde of shrimp demons from the depths of hell walk into a bar. WARNINGS: N/A

Adam drove the silver spear down again into a chink in the demon’s armored shell. The enormous pinned shrimp flailed, trying to reach the Hunter with its clays. The mouth of the creature's unnervingly human face opened far too wide as a long shrimpfish rostrum jutted out from its wailing throat. The spear-like protrusion retracted and shot out again as the demon tried to impale its attacker. But the Adam’s just twisted the spear, using his everage on the downed prey to keep out of the stabbing range of its horn. Eventually the thing’s spasms subsided and its paranormal signature winked out from the Hunter’s mind.

Adam knelt and whipped his spear off in one of the biolomunent tide-pools that seemed to extend endlessly in all directions. The ground seemed to be composed of colorful corals and shell-like structures that formed reefs the height of vividly hued mountain ranges in the far distance. The air was moist and thick with mist that occasionally glowed with the same bioluminescence of the tidepools. This luminous sea mist extended up into the sky, forming entire constellations of numinous flows and algae tides in the place of stars. Adam hadn’t witnessed any sun or day here yet, but the native life here gave off so much light that he had no trouble finding his way.

Adam felt a prickle of something paranormal of one of the reef hills, something much more intense than the general vibes that all this alien algae gave off. Thinking yet another of those people-faced shrimp were approaching, Adam readied his spear and sprinted up the ridge, boots crunching on weirdly colored muscles and polyps as he crested the coral hill and…

“Woah uh...sorry uh,” Adam said to the stranger below, pausing mid-motion of raising a silver-tipped metal spear over his head. “Hi I thought you were more shrimp…”

Eilidh had fallen. A curious peak turned disastrous, those swirling lights overwhelming. Beating against her temples. Balance lost, down she went. Opening her eyes, she was met with new light. Not the harsh type from the gateway—this was breathtaking. Where her body touched the water that seemed never ending, a glow was found. Outlining her form. Hugged by luminescence, and just as comforting. Fingers played against the watery surface—that same glow twinkled in the movement. She laughed, delighted. How wonderful! But when her eyes looked up to take in more of this new place, that laughter turned into a fascinated cooing. Shrimp! Shrimp? So much shrimp. They fell from the sky. They crawled around on the ground. At least, she thought they were shrimp. But they were far too large. And when they looked at her—something human looked back. The ones who met her gaze started to approach. Others were drawn by the sound of her laughter. Wonder was still clear on her face, but as the steadily growing swarm got closer, their speed increased in tune with their amount. With no signs of stopping on either accounts. She sighed. “Can’t ever be fucking simple.” She hopped onto her feet, brandishing a blade in each hand. Her teeth snapped together. Click.

Run. Slash. Run. Slash. A trail of death lay in the echo of Eilidh’s path. All the same, those shrimps remained in pursuit, dedication for her death never slipping, despite the death of their own. Reasoning through words or actions or fear would not work. This would be a long, long day. Or days if she wasn’t careful. She looked for that doorway back, but her searching gaze only found mist and more shrimp. As the blind scurry took her all over, a third option was found. Corals broke out from the water—misshaped and colorful hills surrounded by glowing valleys. Larger than would be expected. It was like everything here was too big to be contained in just this world. Finding a relatively flat-topped structure, she scurried up the rough texture. A shrimp was close behind, but it was met with a swift kick in the face. “Fuck off!” Another took its place, which was soon afflicted with a gash in its throat.

It was almost missed. Those sounds of a secondary fight. It blended well with her own, but as the wails and the gushes got closer, Eilidh realized they weren’t attuned to her own actions. She whipped her head behind, expecting to find another unfortunate soul. A flash of silver stole her attention. The weapon was cocked for a strike, unmistakably directed at her. She readied her own blades. A growl erupted from her throat. But his motion was quickly corrected, and they both gawked at each other. “…Was it all the pink?” She motioned to her attire: pink floral shirt with a skirt of a different shade of pink. Both covered in patches of a third, unintended pink: shrimp gut stains. “Who’re you?”

Eilidh eyed the kid: up and down, up again. The way he held that spear. Deadly weapon decorated with the remains of the slain. Clearly experienced. She kept her hold on each dagger tight. Her stare was finally broken, eyes darting to the side, then back to him. “Behind you.” Taking advantage of their distracted state, a shrimp creeped up from behind the other.

“I’m Adam Walker, a citizen from White Crest, Maine in the country of the United States of America on the planet Earth,” explained the young man in tactical gear, as if he fully expected to be potentially introducing himself to extraterrestrials and hadn’t yet ruled out the possibility that this pink frocked stranger was visiting from the andromeda galaxy.

A flicker of icy heat in his subconscious and Pink Alien’s warning gave Adam enough warning to drop down into a crouch on the coral’s damp coarse surface. A needle-sharp shrimp horn sliced into thin air where the Hunter had been a second before.

Adam rolled backward on the corals, wincing a bit as their sharp edges did a number on his neck. He drove the silver spear up into the less heavily armored underbelly of the shrimp- thing. The Hunter slowly stood, muscles taut as he applied leverage with mutant strength.The impaled crustacean flailed, spindly legs and swimmerets thrashing around the spear as Adam rose forced it onto it’s back.. Adam stepped onto the shrimp’s tail with a crunch. With merciless methodicalness Adam drove the spear farther and farther up the shrimps insides until frantic convulsions subsided into stillness.

“Hey thanks for the heads up. So why are you here in Shrimptopia?”

He was from White Crest. Of course. Only someone from there would casually be dressed head-to-toe as if the end times were nigh. Or purposefully jump into a giant, glowing vortex that led to worlds unknown. Which… Eilidh would kind of—mostly—be guilty of. She watched the ensuing carnage from below. Assessing this new acquaintance. Only a fragment of the skirmish was visible from her viewpoint, corals framing the blood-soaked picture. Attention divided between the battle up above and her own. A new opponent emerged, shrimp daring to cross the invisible threshold. Her foot found its way on its face, and its legs found themselves into her own. It smiled under her shoe. Without a wince, she just pushed forward, plunging a dagger into the creature’s blue eye. It almost relented, legs losing grip. With the twiiiiist of her blade, the claws slipped out, and it tumbled down the course surface—taking one more with it. Her skirt possessed new tears. Her leg gained new gashes. Click, click, click went her canines, with a ferocity and velocity not seen in humans. But no matter what, the shrimps just kept coming. And coming. And coming. And with each strike upon her body, she felt more alive.

After slaying his own adversary, Adam spoke, and Eilidh’s attention shifted more his way. “You can call me Macleod. From not here.” Within the moment of brief tranquility, she continued their previous exchange. “And I could ask you the same thing, tough guy. Fell through a glowing door, too? In Nordica Theater?” She turned briefly to the seemingly unending horizon. Tongue licked her blade, burst of endorphins coursing through as pink flesh fell down her throat. She readied her hand again. “Know how to get outta here?”

“Heya Mac,” Adam said, wiping shrimp organ juice off the spear. “Not fell exactly,” he admitted. “I’m tryin to find a way to close these rifts so White Crest doesn’t collapse into a hellmouth,” the Hunter claimed with a tone that suggested this was a common architectural failing. “So I jumped into Bubba Gump planet here to take a look.”

At Macleod’s question Adam pointed his silver spear across the delta plain of bioluminescent tide pools. The direction of the spear’s tip indicated what appeared to be a volcanic caldera, except its slopes consisted entirely of vivid coral. “In that coral bowl thing in a glowy lake, and inside the glowy lake is a giant hell crab-cockroach thing, and inside the giant hell crabroach thing is a portal.

Adam turned back to Mac. “So we’ll need the Mega-crabroach to eat us. Which is a rough time because the coral bowl has pistol shrimp guys who can.” The mighty Hunter clapped his hands in pincer motions in Macleod’s direction while making ‘pew pew’ sounds, perhaps to indicate this subspecies of Shrimp Demon had the ability of terrestrial pistol shrimp fire sonic blasts from their claws.

Collapse into a hellmouth. Not exactly the words Eilidh would’ve used, but the fact that Adam mentioned it so casually, so factually, as if it wasn’t a doubt in his mind. It didn’t bode well. That had been a possibility, a dreadful conclusion that sprung into her mind during her running abouts. But it had just been a possibility. Until now. Still a chance remained that he too was wrong, and the search to decipher this puzzle wasn’t so urgent. But if not, she hoped to be outside the limits. It would be one hell of a show. “Learn anything enlightening here? Besides what would happen if a human and shrimp decided to fuck.”

Instructed by the silver tip, her eyes travelled the landscape until it spotted the distant volcano. Only the silhouette greeted Eilidh, the swirls of mist and algae that suffocated the area stole the details away. But vapors dissipated, and the embellishing coral poked out like the morning sun. Grounded sunset overtook her vision, such a sight—colors of plenty and shapes of all—had been missed in the tunnel vision of battle. Attention fully placed, she didn’t want to turn it away, expression lifting into delight. But distractions were without consequence in such a place, and an opportunistic shrimp skewered her flank. As its rostrum pierced her flesh, her blade pierced its own, their gore mixing into swirls of black and pink. It tried to remove more of her innards, but it did not have the same luxury as she to be apathetic to injury, and it soon succumbed to its own. As it let out its last convulsions, she removed the head. The rest tumbled down the coral branch, same as the others. Ending in a splat. With a cough the only response to the gash on her side, she looked back at Adam. “Ah, like a matryoshka.” She nodded. He seemed to know a great deal about this place. Could he even be trusted? She couldn’t detect any hidden malice, at least directed at her, from him. And she was quite confident in that sense of hers, despite how often she was wrong—a fact she didn’t like to be confronted with.

The finale brought a subtle tremor to each hand. Recalling how well that went last time—why the fuck do I have to get eaten again, fuck this—she wished she had remembered to replace her used Bliss. She craved the sweet apathy it brought. Maybe it was all speculation, maybe this kid had no idea what the fuck he was talking about, and the gateway wasn’t inside a giant, sticky, wet, cave, cave, cave, cave, cave, cave. Breathe in; breathe out. Time to get this over this. “Race ya.” With a departing wink towards Adam, Eilidh scurred across the temporary refuge. Feet contacted with water, and the explosion of bioluminescence enveloped her in the night sky. Then, she was off, heading for the crater above. She bit into the newly acquired head, teeth straining against the protective chitin. But as flesh finally reached her tongue, fell down her throat, filled her stomach, her pace quickened.

Adam sprinted across the coral ridges that surrounded the bioluminescent tide pools, wondering if his zombie companion, as Eilidh had definitely pulled a Professor Beck with that impaling back there, could feel weariness. Unfortunately, he’d had depressing answer to her question about man-shrip fuck land.

“Sorry, just shrimp demons and wondering how this glowy plankton atmosphere works,” he answered before getting to the follow up he’d been asking everyone thus far on his interplanar journeys.

“Hey,” he called over to her as he dodged grasping claws that lunged out of a tidepool and retaliated with a prodding thus of a spear, before sprinting onward. “Have you seen a sorceress out here? The name is Nell Vural. Five foot five, about a hundred and ten pounds, brown eyes, and straight brown hair. Maybe rides a hell dog?”

The race came to a head at the foot of a slope composed of multicolored corals and mussels. Alien table corals rose tens of feet in the air like prismatic forests of mushrooms, some bearing small flourishing tidepools on their flat tops. Giant brain corals pulsating with inner light like contemplative boulders. These and other polyps Earth had no name for formed a great caldera reef with a hollow center, as if some strange eruption eons ago had filled these damp plains with a literal explosion of bioluminescent life.

“You ready?”

Eilidh’s eyes tightened at the question. What was a Hunter doing looking for Nell? Eilidh could recognize those maneuvers, the way Adam slaughtered his marks, his targets. His attire had made her suspicious, but his motions gave him away. And the way this Adam asked, worry seeping into every word, beyond what a hunter-related gig would entail. It planted a seed of worry in her too. Nell was a tough lady. Certainly she would be fine. Right? “No. Why? Is she alright?” She wished she knew more, questions swimming in her head, that curiosity biting at her lips. If she knew anything beyond what he told her, those lips would be sealed, though. She just met the kid. Hunters were a tricky thing.

The two headed for the promised gateway, their spot at the lead in an ebb and flow like the water below. He may have adept strength, but she was blessed with short-circuited nerves. He was strong, but she would not be slowed down by the pain. And pain they faced. And pain they dealt. More of those bodies found their spots in the water, blood seeping into the porous surface of the corals. Becoming one. If an outsider followed this trail of death, it would lead them all the way to the top—to the sought-after exit. As the end came to a close, she had become so distracted she wasn’t even sure who stepped upon the rim first. Likelihood pointed to Adam—realization of his nature, his background, caused her to fall back, to study. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. An involuntary growl erupted from her throat. In another time, another situation, another day, Eilidh would’ve found the place magnificent. It was like nothing she’d ever seen—blooming with life so familiar but not, colors so evocative, all like honey to her eyes. She may never behold such a sight again. But… it.

It tainted the area for her. So caught up in the thrill of the race and taste of carnage, she had let her mind escape acknowledging the inevitable. Eyes traversed the wondrous sights, the wondering thoughts, and instead focused on the glowing lake. That alone would usually alight her eyes in amazement, as if she too had the same glow. But what lay below turned it all to ash. In those radiant waters, the “mega-crabroach” waited. The gaping mouth. The gaping cave. She would have to jump into that. Willingly. Last time—and it pissed her off to recall again that there had been a last time—it had been so fast, so forced, she just had to accept it. There had been no time for nerves, and when nerves came it was done. She was out. How long would it take for her to get out this time? Would she get out? Can she get out? Why was she listening to this kid? Who even was he? Fucking hell, what was wrong with her right now? “If this doesn’t work. I’m gonna make your last moments hell.” Words grumbled under tense breath. Physically shaking off her discomfort, some of it melted away. She patted the kid on the back. But it functioned more like an instruction. “Youth before beauty.”

“Nell got abducted into one of these Hell Dimensions and I’m out to find her,” was Adam’s utilitarian summary of the situation before he broke into a sprint over the caldera’s ridge. His boots crunched on corals and muscles as he lept over brain coral, chitinous ferns, and bioluminescent anemones.

A sharp cracking sound was Adam’s warning before a brain coral exploded nearby, showering the Hunter with soggy shards as a shockwave of pressured air nearly knocked him off his feet.

Adam scanned the reef slope as his ears rang. Sure enough, he caught sight of one of the shimp demons staring at him from a tide pool about a hundred feet away, one claw engorged to a size that made the other look vestigial.

Adam waved his way down towards the hulking thing sleeping in the caldera’s nadir, leave a cacophony of explosions in his wake as the resident pistol shrimp demons sent sonic blasts after him with a frenzy of snaps.

That didn’t sound good. Tension found itself on her mouth. “Giant caterpillar snatched her up with crystal ooze?” Eilidh emphasized the point by moving a hand to her forehead and flicking her fingers forward, as if something were shooting out—similar to that mysterious creature and its mucus-projectile appendages. She understood better than most how formidable such a being could be. While the creature behind the door hadn’t put too much of a fight, at least in her brief encounter, its sheer size had assured its superiority in an immediate face-off.

Snap. The sound was all consuming. Eilidh shoved her hands into her ears, but the sharp noise maneuvered around this barrier like it was nothing. Ringing followed. But ringing she was used to. Eyes snapped at the direction of the attack. A pistol shrimp looked at them—if one were extraordinarily large and had an angry baby mask strapped to its head. Snap. Invisible wall blitzed passed her, threatening to slam and skewer her upon a nearby urchin. The air was scorching—hot enough to bring a warmth to her indifferent nerves. More of those shrimps arrived. Ready to attack. Ready to snap. In the shadow of her footfalls, the corals below were littered with impacts that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

All this commotion awoke the slumbering giant. Vertical eyes peaked out from the water. Then its head followed, dripping with that bioluminescence, ripping apart that glow. Claws followed suit—lifting high into the air and crashing back down from the difference in gravity. Chunks of disrupted barnacle flung into the air, some striking those pistol shrimp, bludgeoning them to death. Adjustment came swiftly and those claws rose once more. Snip snip. They crashed down onto the surrounding area, but this time with deliberance. This time with a target. The two trespassers. Eilidh quickly sidestepped out of the way, barking out a warning to Adam.

An enormous claw bulldozed a furrow through the coral as Adam heeded Elidh’s warning, hurtling towards the mountainous blend of insectoid and crustacea as its forelimbs slammed down behind him. The Hunter vaulted onto the arm, letting the megacrab carrying him up. He stabbed the spear into a joint in the chitan to hold it fast as the world became a rushing blur of motion. Adam waited as the mass of chitin and many corded antenna swung its pincered arms wildly in an attempt to dislodge him. On the upward swing Adam caught a glimpse of the plains of tidepools stretching out beyond the Caldera like serene lakes of blue light beneath a numinous sky. The picturesque moment was broken by a stomach churning plummet back down as Adam’s bleeding knuckles whittened around the spear.

Adam made his move in the brief respite after the bone-jarring impact of the claw’s against the reef. The Hunter ran up to the shoulder joint, lodging the spear in a joint and pole-vaulting onto the flatter plain of the megacrab’s dark cerebral shell. Adam ran over the shell’s spinned frontal exterior and plunged his spear down into the crab’s eye. “Jump on in,” he shouted while hanging on against for dear life as the titanic crab mouth opened in panicked agony, a vortex of light churning at the back of its throat.

Where the mighty pinchers collided, craters formed, as if this mighty reef were afflicted by a concentrated meteor shower. There was always a delay, a second where the claw became one with which it destroyed, before returning to the air. Ready for another strike. And it struck yet again, as expected, and that second came to pass, as it should. But before it could return to the air, Eilidh hitched a ride. Feet struggled to find hold, fighting against the wet slick of the claw and the stiff twitch of the beast. As bearings were finally found, it no longer mattered—she was flung into the air. Her body whacked twice against the creature’s back before gravity drug it down, straight for the waiting abyss.

Hands replaced feet in that fruitless struggle. Blades joined the fray, but they banged helplessly against the uncaring chitin. Before she could slip into the water below, lost in that luminous pit, a dagger jammed into one of the creature’s old battle scars. Decent stopped. Feet found their footing much quicker, having learned from the previous ordeal. She ascended, following the streaks of her near plummet, until coming upon the head. Scream filled the air, and for a moment she mistook its origins for the creature. Its mouth too was wide with anguish. But its screams were silent. The sound was too familiar, too human. Eyes tore away just a moment to settle on Adam, the true source. He dangled just above–

The gateway.

“Don’t be a lil’ bitch.” Eilidh grumbled to herself, her nerves. Fear nearly froze her in place, with a tingling the only reminder she still lived, still breathed. But the constant bucks and thrashes of the beast thawed her limbs into action. Forced them to. Not giving her nerves the chance to trap her again, she jumped. Let gravity do its work on her as it did before. All she had to do was fall. Trajectory sent her straight for Adam, her shoulder colliding into his body. For just a snap of a moment the two were suspended in that tense air. But it was all too much for the creature’s eye. Pressure forced the puncture the spear pressed in to widen, and with that the traction was lost. The two fell. Back to the light. Back home.

#tidepool glow #chatzy #;— interactions #ft. adam w.#wickedswriting #whoo!

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cxptain-rex · 4 years

Text

summary: Fives and the General go undercover in a gathering to get intel on a plan to destroy the GAR. Feelings long locked away come once again to make a final point.

pairings: Fives x Jedi!Reader

warnings: none cause this is pure fluff my friends!!!

also, requests are open for the clones!!! So send some my way pals!!!

reblog and like for sum more cute fluff

********

You never thought from all of your training in the Jedi Temple that you would have to go undercover as a princess and yet here you are, dressing up as one for a certain mission.

The mission consisted of infiltrating a Separatist political gathering. You were invited along with the the senator of Naboo. The Council approves of the mission and they quickly set you up to be the one to get the intel and come back. Anakin volunteered Fives to be your escort for this mission. Captain Rex agreed to it, yet you had the idea of why they did this charade.

The team was infiltrating a ball held in Mandalore by the followers of Darth Maul, whom has been absent for a quite long time now. Leaving the planet to be led by separatist loyalists. The council trusted this mission to you and Anakin, knowing you could lead it effortlessly.

The young senator of Naboo, Padmé, lent you a dress and everything to get ready. Her maids stood gushing around you like a flock of birds. You on the other hand were nervous. Let’s say that you do not enjoy getting out of your robes and into a rather revealing dress. The clothing and make up even your hair screamed royalty. You missed your lightsaber and the robes even your boots.

“There, you look gorgeous” reassured Padmé putting her hands comfortably on your shoulders. You smiled at her softly but shying from how different you looked.

“Don’t worry, you will look beautiful to him” she said in a teasing matter causing your eyes to shot up at her like a wookie caught in headlights.

“I-I have no idea what you are talking about” you mustered adverting your gaze anywhere but at the smiling senator.

The door to your racks hissed open, Anakin, your old friend and former Jedi partner walked inside adorning his brown robes and right behind him, his Captain. The last one to enter was him.

Arc Trooper Fives.

He shed his armor and now possessed grey robes just like the ones the Jedi wore, it was strange to see him without his arc armor which you’ve grown to admire. Fives looked handsome, hair neat and his goate also neatly done.

Fives cleaned nicely. You could not deny it.

“You look amazing, Y/N” Anakin said with a teasing tone to that sentence. Captain Rex nodded along but the one who did not spoke a word was Fives. He was enamored with you, with the dress, with everything. You looked like an angel.

“Let’s get moving, we have a mission to complete” insisted Anakin as he offered his arm to his wife. Fives stood baffled until you walked up to him, he offered his arm and you took it kindly.

No attachments , you reminded yourself trying to get your breathe to be even. You were so entranced on making sure you did not tripped over your own feet that you did not noticed the pair of honey eyes staring at you.

You and Fives stared at each other, he opened his mouth to say something but pursed his lips. He could not bring himself to do it. Kriff, he thought acknowledging your beauty.

“You look...nice” you stammered causing the trooper to look at you catching your shying gaze. “Thank you, you look beautiful” he answered softly rubbing his thumb on your arm.

Goosebumps appeared your skin causing you to shudder as an effect of what he did to you. How could you deny him? He is an amazing man. One of a kind.

Fives knew, yet he did not bring himself to act upon his feelings. You are a Jedi, he is a clone. A powerful force and an expandable being. The same coin with different sides. Those thoughts were like acid rain to his feelings every time he assimilated them.

You arrived at the hangar bay, where a transport awaited for you. The cruiser was stationed some klicks away from the Mandalore system you and the rest of the team were supposed to be. Fives helped you get in, sitting right beside you. For a moment it was like no one else was in that transport just you and him.

Nerves settled in you like binds causing you to smack yourself in your mind. You must calm down, you thought closing your eyes letting out, a slow, heavy sigh. Something warm enclosed itself on your hand, Fives’ hand. He grabbed your hand, entangling his fingers with yours. Rubbing your palm with his thumb and the storm of nerves in you calmed down finally. You thanked him silently and he acknowledged it with a tender smile. Fives after all remained a gentleman even if he has another reputation within the GAR’s men.

The train of thoughts in your mind stopped abruptly as Anakin stood up to brief the mission once again.

“Listen up, this will be a stealth mission. We must not engage the enemy” he reminded everyone. Captain Rex nodded with Fives and Kix who also tagged along just in case a casualty appeared. Padmé would be there too, she is the only way for you to get in with Fives and Anakin.

“Y/N, you will look for the man of the intel. He is a bounty hunter. Trevlin Lenbat. He will give you the intel, once you’ve got it we will retreat from the gathering. Understood?”

“Yes sir” you acknowledged at Anakin, the ship landed on a platform. You were welcomed by Mandalorian guards, whom led you inside the palace where the gathering was being held.

Everything looked quite gorgeous for it to be a gathering of bounty hunters and violent people.

“Ok team, scattered” Anakin spoke as you heard him on your comm. Fives led you down the throne room where everyone was chattering fluently. Flutes of champagne were being passed around, Fives grabbed one. He offered you one which you politely declined.

“We look like idiots” you whispered looking around at the people in the room.

“Well, we look like fancy idiots” Fives retorted causing chuckled to be heard in your ear comm. That was Kix for sure or Rex.

Suddenly the orchestra located at the end of the throne room began playing a melodical tone, a waltz.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” Fives asked.

You stared at him in disbelief. “I do not know how to dance Fives” you mumbled looking away. “C’mon, it’s easy” he chuckled grabbing your hand and resting the other right on your lower back. He pulled you towards him.

So close, you thought you forgot how to breathe at that moment. Fives swayed you across the marbled floor and it was almost like you were made for that activity.

Silence consumed between the two of you. The coms have gone silent and now its just Fives and you. He twirled you, enlightening a sharp gasp from you.

Fives chuckled softly bringing you closer, he was making sure to remember all of this. The tension between the two of you could be cut with a lightsaber if needed.

Suddenly a whisper passed by you and Fives. “Isn’t that the Jedi whom protected the late Duchess?”

Kriff, they knew you were here

You shared a look with Fives. The music ended and as the guards were sauntering towards you.

Everything stopped. Fives planted his lips on yours as the lights of the throne room dimmed. You gasped into his mouth as he stroke your face with his hand, covering you with his body. He bit your lower lip enlightening a small moan.

The kiss stopped.

The guards passed by and did not look at you twice.

Thanks to Fives’ move.

Anakin’s voice came through the comma. “Sorry to cut this cute scene short, but we have to go now. I have the intel, let’s go”

Fives grabbed your hands and made it to the doors, and blasters went off. You were caught. The doors now covered by Mandalorian guards. Suddenly something was being pressed against your hands. Your lightsaber. Fives gave it to you. He carried it with him.

You turned it on, and began slashing your way through as Fives shot down the guards with a blaster. You made it outside where the transport was waiting. Captain Rex narrowed his eyes until he located you and Fives.

“I see them sir!” He called to Anakin and you ran for it. Fives trailed right behind you. You made it inside the transport and the ramp closed.

++++++++

As the stamina in everyone died down, you made your way to the back of the transport until you arrived at the crusier.

The ship landed on the hangar bay, the doors opened letting the team out. Anakin off to debriefing with Captain Rex. Kix to the medical wing and Padmé back to her quarters. You stayed behind with Fives whom has been silent the whole way back.

You were dazed by him. He kissed you. “You kissed me” you said looking up at the trooper. “And I would do it again, if it means to keep you safe” Fives said in a joking matter but with a glistening light in his honey eyes.

Fives stared you lovingly but you stared in confusion and conflict within yourself. “Don’t pretend like you don’t feel the same, cya’re” he said stroke your cheek causing you to lean your face towards his hand. You missed the physical touch that the Jedi Code denied you.

“...Fives...I can’t think of a life that doesn’t have you in it” you stammered opening your eyes, connecting with his gaze.

Fives faltered right there, hearing you say that caused him to have a circuit or some kriffing stuff like that. He could not breathe for a moment.

“Why me?” He asked glaring down at the floor.

“What?” You asked baffled at his questioning. You did not understood and then it dawned on you. He is a clone after all, there are men who look exactly just like him running around the hangar. The insecurity in his eyes shattered your heart.

“You could have had anyone? So why me?”

You were the one who pressed a hand to his cheek now. He caught it just in time before you took it away. Fives kissed your palm.

“...Because you’re the only one I want, you always have been...Is that really so hard to believe?” You answered wholeheartedly at him.

You threw caution to the wind.

Screw the Jedi Codes. Screw the Order. Screw the GAR.

You were in love with this man.

“Now what?” He asked.

“Kiss me, and we’ll find out along the way” you smirked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders bringing him down.

Fives chuckled planted his hands on your waist, brushing his lips against yours. Pressing them, at once like a flicker. The force spread within your space causing you to chuckle as you felt the pull.

“I love you, Fives”

“And I love you, Mesh'la”

++++++++

I’m actually proud of this!

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amostimprobabledream · 4 years

Text

The Witching Hour (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

(Also available on ArchiveOfOurOwn: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25369792) There’s something special about that certain hour of the night, between midnight and three. It’s a feeling that comes to you every now and then, an overwhelming sensation of possibilities. Like anything can happen.

Maybe that’s why you feel strangely calm, knowing just who’s coming to see you. Actually, ‘calm’ isn’t quite right, it doesn’t match that singing in your veins, the magnetic tug of attraction that grows stronger and stronger with each passing minute, like your body can feel him approaching. No, calm isn’t exactly it, but there’s a degree of assurance that makes this feel fun instead of tense.

You know that he isn’t going to forget about you.

Thing is, this should be tense. Your husband ain’t there (and where he is, you don’t know, nor do you care) but he’d go fucking ballistic if he knew what was happening – what was about to happen.

Well, fuck him. You know he’s been screwing around behind your back for months. Maybe even longer. Well, two can play at that game, you’ll do far better than any two-bit whore or overeager showgirl.

No. Your catch is considerably more impressive.

The door swings open, silent as a ghost and you find yourself sitting up straighter, like a naughty kid in class.

Tommy Shelby walks into the room like he owns it, shutting the door with a firm click behind him. He’s already removed his coat at the door, but the signature cap is still firmly on, shadowing his face just so. But he’s staring right at you, twin rings of blue growing thinner as they skate up and down your body. He blinks once, slowly, those lashes dipping like a wing. You’ve admitted before to being terribly jealous of those eyelashes – you’re the one in showbusiness but those eyes of his put any movie star’s to shame.

You made sure to dress nicely for him, but now you wonder if you’ve overdone it. Your favourite (and most expensive) nightgown, the stockings you know he loves and a fucking string of pearls glistening around your throat. You thought it was a good idea at the time, but maybe you look ridiculous, like a kid playing dress up, playing at being an adult.

“Look at you,” Tommy rasps, startling you, both with the suddenness and how he always seems to know just what’s going through your head. “Very nice.”

He’s never effusive with compliments – he’s not much of a talker in general – but two words from him in that low, approving purr means more to you than a thousand gushing compliments from suck-ups and boot lickers you get in your line of work. You feel warmth bloom in your stomach and bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning like a fool.

“Thanks,” you say and Tommy steps further into the room, his tread slow and careful as a cat’s.

His hand reaches out and gently his fingers wrap around the pearls, tugging you gently to your feet. His mouth is warm as it meets yours, one hand tangling in your hair, angling your head while the other clicks the pearls between his fingers.

It’s a cliché, but kissing Tommy isn’t quite like kissing anyone else. For a man who is so hard to read as he is, like talking to a statue, he knows how to kiss with feeling. His teeth gently scrape your bottom lip, lips slightly chapped but firm and hungry against yours. He loves your mouth, but he likes to kiss your throat too. Letting a man like Tommy that close to your neck is nothing short of thrilling to you – it’s like baring it to a wolf.

But the best part of it is, you know how much he wants to do more.

If Tommy had his way, he’d lace your skin with love bites, so everyone would see them and know exactly who was fucking you. There would be no sneaking around, snatching these fleeting moments together, under the cover of darkness. And he wouldn’t be gone every morning after, he’d be there when you woke up.

If he had it his way, you’d be his.

But in a perverse way, you wonder if it’s exactly because you aren’t that he makes sure to treat you right. It’s not that you think that Tommy would ignore or mistreat you the moment he got a ring on your finger, but once that happened, he’d have won. Eventually, new things become familiar and the excitement disappears. What comes after isn’t bad – comfort, easiness – but you know Tommy. He craves excitement and danger more than any drug known to man. That your dear, darling bastard of a husband would kill (or try to) the both of you if you found out is like his birthday and Christmas come at once.

So Tommy lavishes you with ‘anonymous’ gifts, sneaks into your room whenever possible and fucks you until you see stars, because he know that it’s all he can do at present. And if he’s going to do those things, he’s fucking well going to do them properly.

The inconvenient problem that is your marriage, and having a husband who is too well-connected to quietly get rid of, is one you and Tommy have talked about before, but Tommy’s never given you anything definite to pin your hopes on. That’s not his way. All he keeps saying over and over is, “When he’s gone.”

The words always send a little thrill down your back. It’s like he’s casting a spell by saying it, weaving it together to once again bend the world to his will. It’s well-known that Tommy Shelby tends to get what he wants, eventually.

“Oi,” Tommy says quietly, giving your earlobe a little nip. "Look at me."

You obey – mostly because it’s not as if looking at him is some great chore. You only do as he says when you fancy it, something you know he finds both amusing and infuriating. A potent mix. He smirks and lets go of you, taking a step back.

Carefully, like he’s putting on a performance for you, he begins to remove his clothing. First the hat, placed on the table. Then he takes off his jacket, and you see his pocket watch and chain, winking in the dim lights, a slash of gold in a sea of coal black. You find yourself watching him hungrily, tracing a fingertip over your lip where he bit you. Even the sight of his forearms, revealed beneath rolled-up sleeves, is enough to fan the flames of urgency you feel when you look at him and the distance between you feels increasingly unacceptable.

“Tommy-“

“Mm-mm. Stay there,” he says, pointing a finger at you as he takes his time undressing, his smirk more pronounced now. As serious as he is, he’s a dreadful tease.

You scoff but know he’ll just make you wait longer if you don’t comply, so you shift impatiently on stockinged feet, feeling far colder than you did lounging on the bed waiting for him. You absently rub your arms, feeling goosebumps stippling your skin as you watch him, white shirt sliding apart to reveal the scarred, pale skin beneath, tattoos standing out starkly against his flesh. You have a sudden, powerful urge to bite him.

Finally he’s done, down to his trousers. There’s a beat, expectation hovering in the air between you. Then, he turns and marches towards you so suddenly and with a glint in his eye that makes you take a step back without realising, until your hip nudges your dressing table behind you.

With a smile that can only be described as wolfish, Tommy’s hands slide down to your waist and gives it a playful squeeze before he lifts you up, sitting you on your vanity. The clatter of makeup falling to the floor beings you back to the real world and you frown, flicking your gaze to his.

“Those had better not be broken now, Tommy,” you say, annoyed. “It’s an expensive brand.”

He snickers throatily and responds with a lazy kiss, though his porcelain face is unrepentant.

“I’ll buy you more,” he says with a shrug.

He’s not interest in your makeup, even with traces of your lipstick smudging his jaw. Instead he kisses you until you’re panting, standing in between your legs and sucking, nibbling on your bottom lip, like it’s a thing to be devoured. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, which you’d expect from him, but there’s another taste in there too that you can’t quite put your finger on – it reminds you of the woods in winter, of the outside.

His hands rest on your thighs, toying with the hem of your stockings, flirting with the lace, but then he pulls back a little, examining your face. You’re sure you already look a mess, pupils blown, lips red from his attentions and hair falling down out of its usual style. He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and it hits you right between the legs when he does that.

“Your ‘usband,” Tommy says, each word weighty. “Doesn’t deserve you.”

You find yourself holding your breath.

“I know,” you answer, on the exhale.

Tommy grunts and lets you go. Then he slowly kneels down, sliding his hands down your legs as he does so, caressing them. He maintains eye contact with you until he’s kneeling right in between your legs and turns his gaze to what lies straight ahead of him. You squirm on the vanity, heart thudding hard in your chest. It's a little embarrassing to be looked at quite so closely, but your skin is tingling with excitement.

He runs his hands slowly up your legs, pinkie ring glinting as he does so, and nudges them apart, fingers squeezing your thighs, since he knows you’re liable to snap them shut when the tensions gets to be too much to bear. He licks his lips, enjoying that tantalising strip of flesh above the stocking, but it’s not what he’s after right now.

You’re helpfully not wearing any underwear and Tommy smirks, before shifting you a little closer, your little gasp of surprise amusing him. His breath is hot as it ghosts over your skin, and anticipation twists in the pit of your stomach.

The first lick is scorching hot, his tongue dragging a stripe up the centre of your core. Your mouth drops open, a whispered “oh” that you didn’t plan on saying drifting into the air. His fingers are firm as he holds you still, but not squeezing so hard as to bruise your skin. But despite how much you start to fidget, you can’t break free of his grip.

Not that you want this to stop. A throb is building in you with every stroke of his tongue, the sounds Tommy makes, greedy and primal as he tastes you, sends a tingle shooting through you like a firework. He doesn’t keep his hands idle, either, using one to hold you open for him and the other to massage lazy circles on your clit. You whine in response, two points of pleasure twining together to send you dizzy with how good it feels. You rake your hands through his hair, tugging a little as he sucks you into his mouth.

“Yes…” you mutter with a little hiss punctuating the end of the word. “Oh…mm…Tommy…it feels so good…don’t fucking stop…”

Tommy can be obliging when he wishes, so he doesn’t stop, not for a second, working you to the brink of an orgasm with that single-minded mercilessness that does him very well in his line in business. You feel drunk off what he’s doing to you, spellbound as he makes you come undone with little more than some flexes of his tongue. More things spill to the floor from your vanity but you scarcely notice, too wrapped up in the burst of pleasure slamming into you.

“Tommy-!”

Apparently, listening to the noises you were making, thinking about how he’s now pretty much fucked you on every available surface in your bedroom, has had quite the profound effect on Tommy as well. When he’s finished, he wipes his mouth (he’s oddly gentlemanly like that sometimes) and rises to his feet, tugging you closer by hooking his fingers around the backs of your knees. He jerks, impatiently, at his fly, slightly short of breath himself. The sight of him even slightly undone makes you pull him closer, clutching at his shoulders.

“You know there’s a perfectly good bed five feet away?” you laugh, breathlessly.

“Fuck the bed,” Tommy all but snarls, fingers digging into your ass. “I want you here. Now.”

He enters you almost on the wood, in one fell thrust, and you cry out without a pause, the sound leaving your mouth as if it had been trapped there all this time, just waiting to get out.

You know you can’t be as tight as he always insists that you are, but fuck if he doesn’t fill you up, hot and hard and it feels so fucking good. The spite towards your husband is just the icing on the cake, it’s like you’re both fucking him while you do this, your bodies united in a silent vendetta against his invisible presence. You growl as Tommy sinks in deep, and just because you feel like it, you drag your nails down his beautiful back, inch by inch, making sure that he’ll have marks of his own to carry around with him. Tommy’s eyes snap open, though you know he doesn’t dislike it.

“Naughty,” he rasps, giving your backside a sharp smack that makes you squeal.

“You like it when I’m bad,” you reply in a muffled voice, smirking against his lips. He huffs in amusement, forehead touching yours.

“That I do, love,” he concedes.

Still, that doesn’t stop him from grabbing one of your thighs and hoisting it up to his waist, changing the angle and hitting you in a way that makes you breathless, sinking himself to the hilt inside you. You can’t stop yourself from moaning anymore, though it’s softened by the mirror rattling behind you as Tommy rocks the vanity table with each thrust, his own curses of “Fuck” a low rumble in his throat.

The pulsing, throbbing that starts up again in your core but somehow has spread to the entirety of your body, flooding your system with want and need.

“Oh, fuck…” you breathe, squeezing him like your life depends on it. “Yes…Tommy, I’m so fucking close…”

“Are you?” he asks, somehow managing to sound arch even at a time like this. His voice dips even lower. “And did I say you could come, sweetheart?”

The bastard! He’s going to tease you now, when you’re this close? You make the mistake of groaning in annoyance and he slaps your ass again, opposite side this time and you yelp.

“No…” you mutter petulantly, though you have to suck in your cheeks a bit to stop yourself from breaking character and smiling.

“No, what?” Tommy prompts, deliberately slowing his pace to taunt you further, the tension that had been building in you rapidly uncoiling. Frustration and lust surge through you, making it rather difficult to think straight.

“No, Tommy,” you say dutifully, but he clicks his tongue like you’re deliberately giving him the wrong answer just to annoy him. Then it clicks and you feel your face grow hot.

“No, Daddy,” you correct yourself, squirming beneath that piercing stare of his. He reaches out and winds a strand of your hair around his finger.

“That’s right,” he says, relentless and beautiful at once. “Now, I believe there’s something you want. Ask me nicely.”

You’re tempted to refuse, just to keep the game going, but your body can’t sustain this – it’s been too long since you stole a night together like this – so you give in, surrender yourself to Tommy like you always do.

“Please, Daddy,” you say in a low voice, moaning as he slide out of you, inch by inch. “Please.”

“Good girl.”

And he rewards you as he always does, sliding back fully into you and picking up the pace like there was no interruption at all. You cry out as he hits you deep, stroking where your own fingers can never quite reach and you hook your legs around his waist, clinging to him like a drowning person. You bury your face into his neck, his name spilling from your lips like an incantation, Tommy…Tommy…Tommy… - it leaves you breathless.

Tommy growls something in Romani as he comes, his head back, eyes shut, his jaw clenching. The moonlight peeping through the window hits his face just right and you can only sigh to look at him.

Silence falls, heavy as snow as both of you fall still, trying to gather your bearings. Tommy recovers faster than you do and sweeps you up off the vanity, carrying you across the room to deposit you into bed. You reach up and gently, lazily skim the sun tattoo branded on his chest. You’re one of the only people you know he’ll allow it from, and he knows you love his tattoo.

“Maybe we should get you one, eh?” he teases as he flips the covers back and sets you down. “Maybe my name, eh?”

You give an obligatory smile, but your heart isn’t in it. Despite the afterglow beginning to settle in and the tingling shocks still thrumming through you like a plucked string, this is the part you hate the most. You try to be adult about it, but watching him dress and vanish at the door, into the cloak of nightfall…it makes you feel like he’s just visited a whore.

Isn’t that what I am? You think, with a stab of bitterness. An adulterer?

As usual, it’s like Tommy reads your thoughts, because he turns your face towards him.

“It won’t always be like this,” he says. “Eh? Someday we won’t ‘ave to fuckin’ sneak around like this.”

“Now, where have I heard that before?” you ask, dryly.

Tommy scoffs, one hand idly smoothing over the covers.

“’ave I ever lied to you, love?” he asks.

You blink, surprised at the question, but even as you mentally count backwards to when you first met, you can’t come up with a single time Tommy outright lied to you. He chooses not to tell you certain things, but that isn’t the same.

“I suppose not,” you answer, shifting onto your side. “I just...I hate watching you leave.”

“I ‘ave to be gone in the morning,” Tommy says, but you sense that he’s hesitating, looking away as if thinking hard. You bite your lip as you watch him, but quietly you choose to let it go. You mustn’t be selfish.

“I know,” you say, settling back against the pillows. “Don’t worry. I didn’t mean-“

But to your surprise, he rubs a hand over his face, seeming to come to a decision…and then he’s sliding between the sheets beside you, as if it’s perfectly normal. You’re so surprised that you don’t move for a moment until he pulls you closer.

“I don’t deserve you either,” Tommy drawls, almost musingly, his voice husky in your ear. “But that never fuckin’ stopped me before.”

He holds you close to him like he has no plans to let go and you can’t temper the delight that flares somewhere inside you that your bodies fit together so perfectly, nor do you want to. Instead you move closer and rest your head on his chest, smugly.

“Who’s to say who deserves what, anyway?” you say, sleepily. You turn your head and press a kiss to his chest, feeling his heartbeat jump beneath your lips.

Tommy hums approvingly, his hand lightly dragging up and down your skin. The movement is soothing and even though you want to savour the moment a little longer, your eyes fall shut, and you can’t muster the energy to open them.

When the morning comes, you know that Tommy is gone even before you open your eyes. The yawning emptiness of your bed is impossible to ignore.

Still, evidence of Tommy lingers in the room like perfume. You can smell the faint tang of expensive cigarettes on the pillow beside you, and your fingers trace a bitemark he left on your neck. It can be easily covered by your hair, just as your scratch marks on his back will be hidden…but the point is, you’ll both know.

Fog engulfs the ground when you twitch the curtains aside to peek outside, and it’s easy to imagine Tommy striding through the mist in his long black coat, conjured like the devil himself.

It’s then that your eyes land on something on the vanity. Everything else has been put back more or less where it was, but the little box, tied with a ribbon, is new. Curiosity needles you, so you tiptoe across the room and pick it up, rattling the box like a child on Christmas Day.

The ribbon slithers between your fingers and you find yourself holding your breath as you take off the lid.

Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, sits a necklace with a delicate silver chain. You lift it up and gasp slightly at the jet-black pendant on the end, glittering like a drop of blood in the early morning light. The chain and the jewel contrast pleasingly, simple but gorgeous. You don’t know if Tommy actually bought it himself or just sent a secretary off with a generous sum of money, but either way, it’s far more thoughtful than a string of pearls you rarely wear. You don’t waste any time slipping it on. It glitters between your breasts and you smile to yourself – it suits you.

Tucked into the lid of the box is a note and you smile at the familiar sight of Tommy’s script.

Wear this and think of me.

Until next time.

Love, TS. X

He’s never effusive, but you take the note and slot it beneath the velvet, in a little compartment hidden inside the box. Nobody will know it’s there and this way you can take it out and read it when you’re alone.

Your reflection smiles secretively at you in the mirror, the necklace cool on your skin. The night may be over, the hidden side of you retreating as you get ready to face the day, but you feel comfortable that no matter how long it may take, Tommy will make sure to see you again. The gift he gave you is more than a simple present, it’s a promise, a pact sealed.

The witching hour will come again.

#Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x Reader #Peaky Blinders #Peaky Blinders x Reader #Reader Insert #Fanfiction #I listened to so much Lana Del Rey and Halsey writing this #Writings #Writing #Readerfic #Dommy Tommy #Blogging

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dweetwise · 3 years

Note

Pre Entity Evan gets taken by the Entity as a survivor. Ends up having the hots for David.

this is the oldest ask in my inbox and i’ve been working on it on and off for months. it’s much shorter than i’d planned but i really struggled writing evan. i hope you’ll find something you like in it nonetheless!

ship: evan x david warnings: descriptions of violence and blood word count: 2060

Survivor!Evan X David: Tooth and nail

Evan wakes up in the woods next to the estate in the middle of the night. He feels strange; not hungover like he expected after apparently blacking out, but like there's a fog surrounding his brain. Kind of like he was dreaming.

Evan usually doesn't have dreams, and he sure as hell doesn't lucid dream. This feels strangely realistic for a dream, even though most of the specifics are… off. There's remnants of destroyed structures that don't exist, and an unnatural fog surrounding the trees. Something tells him he needs to be careful, dream or not.

Evan spots movement between some rocks. He can barely make out the figure of a man, a scrawny one dressed in mining clothes and darting his eyes around as if keeping a lookout for someone.

Why is there a worker milling about the woods at night? Did he drug Evan? Is he planning to rob the estate?

The man spots him and his eyes widen before he takes off in a sprint.

“Thief! Get back here!” Evan yells, running after the scoundrel.

It’s hard to track the man in the middle of the night, darting between rocks and trees and almost causing Evan to lose him several times. Why does it feel like the thief knows Evan’s home better than him?

At least, after a merry chase ending in one of the estate’s toolsheds, the man finally seems to stop. Evan approaches from an angle he doesn’t expect and the scoundrel doesn’t spot him, pressing himself up against the shack wall to peek around a corner in the opposite direction.

Evan’s heart starts beating louder from adrenaline as he carefully approaches the lowlife, readying to tackle him to the ground—

And promptly screaming out in pain at a sharp sting in his back. Shit, looks like he walked right into a trap!

He whips around to face the perpetrator, a short man wearing a skull mask and dressed in all black, calmly wiping his bloodied knife on his sleeve after stabbing Evan.

“You’ll regret that," Evan snarls, hands balling into fists as he readies to strike—

And promptly falls on his face with a scream as his assailant’s knife slashes him in the chest.

Evan lays on the damp grass in shock, bringing a shaking hand to touch the wound, feeling a worrying amount of blood gushing out of it. How is it bleeding so heavily? Did he hit an artery? Why can’t he get back up?

His shock turns further into confusion as he feels himself being hoisted up on the scrawny man’s shoulder like he weighs nothing.

“Unhand me!” he demands, regaining some of his strength to kick and punch at the attacker carrying him away without even so much as a grunt of effort. “When my father hears about this, you’re going to wish you were dead!”

The criminal has the audacity to snort, like the humiliation of getting overpowered and carried around like a sack of potatoes by a man half his size wasn’t enough of a hit to Evan’s pride.

Before he can give the brat a piece of his mind, he’s suddenly lifted upright, yelping out a curse from the sudden vertigo—

And then screaming until it feels like his lungs are giving out, because something sharp pierces through his shoulder with a wet squelch and sickening crunch, and Evan thinks he might actually die because it burns like nothing he’s ever experienced before.

He thinks his body goes into some sort of shock, because when he comes to, he’s limply hanging from what looks to be a hook in his shoulder, like a pig left to bleed out in a slaughterhouse. The blood gushing out from the gaping wound has stained the entirety of his left side red, his shirt clinging wetly to his torso.

Evan grits his teeth against his quickening, panicked breaths, new determination coursing through him. He’s not about to die like an animal without even fighting back.

With no sign of either the criminal who stabbed him or the thief who lured him into the trap, Evan raises his arms behind him to grip the hook’s base with shaking hands. He starts lifting himself up, choking on a pained gasp as the rusty hook drags through the wound in his shoulder. Just a little more—

The blood on his hands causes his grip to slip and Evan wails as gravity makes him sink right back down on the hook, the pain feeling somehow even worse than before, irritating the raw, angry wound.

He takes a couple of shallow breaths, blinking the blurriness from his vision. He knows he doesn’t have long, the blood loss starting to hit him in full force. His entire body protests the movement as he lifts his hands back up to grab the hook—

“Oi, knock it out!”

This time, Evan’s grip slips before he can even try to dislodge himself from the crude torture stand, the surprise of hearing an unfamiliar voice enough to make him lose focus. Shit, did his assailant return to finish the job?

Instead of a masked hooligan, Evan makes out the frame of another man in working clothes, approaching him with an urgency in his step despite glaring daggers at Evan.

“Ya lookin’ ta get yerself killed with a stunt like ‘at?” the man spits, but before Evan has a chance to reply he’s reaching up and effortlessly lifting him off of the hook. Evan hisses from the sting of the rusty metal sliding through his injury, but it’s nothing compared to the elation he feels to be free from the awful contraption.

“Yer new, right?” the stranger grunts, seeming awfully hostile for someone who just saved his life, chewing on the butt of an unlit cigarette. “’M gonna patch ya up, just this once.”

Without waiting for his reply, the man pulls out a roll of bandages and starts applying them over the heavily bleeding gash in his shoulder. He’s a little rough but Evan doesn’t care, the uncomfortable treatment much preferable to dying.

There’s a million questions running through Evan’s mind. Where is his attacker? What do the criminals want? Why does the estate look different? Why was he unable to fight back against a man half his size?

“Who are you?” Evan asks instead.

His reluctant helper snorts, seeming amused by his question.

“Bleedin’ out from a meathook an’ that’s what ya ask?” the man huffs, his mustache quirking up in a half-smile. “Ya can call me King.”

‘King’? Evan almost wants to snort in amusement and disbelief. This man he’s never seen before, in common working clothes and trespassing on Evan’s family’s property, would call himself something so arrogant?

“What an unfitting name,” Evan says.

Immediately, the bandages are tightened almost painfully around his shoulder.

“Wha’ was ‘at?” the man, “King”, grits out through clenched teeth, anger laced in his words.

Maybe Evan shouldn’t pick a fight with the man who just saved his life and who is the only thing currently stopping him from bleeding out.

“Do you know where the attacker is?” Evan asks instead, barely able to swallow his pride in exchange for living to see another day.

The bandages loosen just the tiniest bit as the man gets back to work.

“Dunno,” King spits, clearly not happy with the situation but not getting up to leave him for dead, either. “E’ll be back, though. They always come back.”

“Good,” Evan says, something dark bubbling up in his chest. Revenge. “This time he’s not taking me by surprise.”

“You wot—” King exclaims in surprise, before sighing angrily. “Yer not takin’ ‘im!”

“I didn’t even get a chance to fight back before,” Evan argues. “He’s a runt, I can easily win, knife or not.”

“Mate, I’m tellin’ ya!” King argues. “Ya can’t win against none of these.”

“Then help me,” Evan challenges, looking over his shoulder at the man. He’s seen King’s type before, tense and angry but more than enough capable of holding his own in a fight. He looks to be in good shape, biceps flexing while he secures the last of the bandages around Evan’s shoulder.

“It don’t work ‘at way,” King says, anger finally giving way to something more pensive. “No matter how many o’ us, they always win.”

“Then I’m going alone,” Evan decides, breaking the eye contact to try to hide the sudden feeling of rejection.

“What the—!" King grunts in frustration. “Ya deaf or somethin’!? I just told ya—”

“Thanks for the help,” Evan interrupts, brushing off the angry concerns and getting up on his feet. “Now get the fuck off my property.”

“Like hell I’m lettin’ ya walk to yer death!” King yells, ignoring the command and coming to stand before Evan to scream right in his face. “Yer comin’ with me, end o’ story!”

“I don’t take orders,” Evan shoots right back, glaring at the man. There’s only one person on this Earth who has the ability to boss him around like a dog, and it sure as hell isn’t this obnoxious—and annoyingly attractive—loudmouth.

King lets out a sound that can only be described at unbridled rage at his uncooperativeness. The man clearly isn’t used to being challenged like this, most people probably content to cower under his demanding aura, the hostile stare and muscular arms shaking from barely contained fury not painting the most welcoming picture.

Luckily, Evan is not like most people, and the threat of a fist fight doesn’t phase him in the slightest.

“Fine,” King finally says and Evan fails to mask the surprise on his features.

“What?”

“I said fine,” King spits, growing annoyed again. “Just try ta in a few good punches on the wanker before ‘e kills us.”

“Try to have a little more faith in me,” Evan scoffs, offended that the man thinks he would lose two fights in a row.

It turns out, King had much more faith in Evan than he should have, because even between the two of them they barely get a punch each on Evan’s assailant before they’re both bleeding on the ground in agony and the perpetrator is still completely unscathed.

Evan’s fear of dying is partly replaced by annoyance when King just grumbles an obnoxious “told ya” while being carried to a meat hook. But it’s the man’s complete nonchalance over their impending doom, along with the muttered “see ya soon, mate” that throws Evan for a loop. Even as the rusty metal reopens the wound in his shoulder and has his screaming in agony, he can’t help but adapt some of King’s indifferent attitude, not fighting it when his vision fades to black

Eventually, the darkness gives way to light, as the dim orange glow of a fire emerges in Evan’s field of view. He’s never believed in the afterlife, but something is telling him to approach the light and his feet carry him forward unconsciously.

As he gets closer, he sees there’s people at the fire; men and women, young and old, dressed in clothing Evan has never seen before. Some are laughing and others are arguing, Evan not knowing whether he should make his presence known or not, standing in the shadows.

And then he sees the thief from the estate who lured him into the trap.

“You got scared of a survivor?” one of the women is laughing.

“I didn’t say that!” the thief protests.

“Now now, he could have been like… a really scary survivor!” a boy grins.

“G-guys…” a young woman’s eyes meet Evans, approaching the perimeter of the campfire, glaring daggers at the group.

“Holy shit! He’s huge!” someone gasps.

“See? You would’ve ran too!” the thief argues, pointing a finger at Evan.

Oh, he’s going to enjoy breaking that finger to teach the bastard a lesson—

“Oi!”

A voice Evan recognizes carries through the small campsite, snapping him out of his plot for vengeance. King is strolling up to join the commotion, ignoring the hesitant eyes from the rest of the group flitting between him and Evan.

“Glad’ta see ya back, newbie,” King says, offering Evan a smug smirk, before gesturing to the rest of the small campsite. “Welcome to hell.”

“It’s Evan,” Evan corrects, not dignifying the rest of his claims with a response. His day just keeps getting stranger by the minute, but at least there’s a familiar face proving he’s not among the enemy.

King extends a hand toward him, the smirk never leaving his face.

“David.”

#dbd fanfic #evan macmillan #david king #dbd trapper #kingmillan #that's a ship name now #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight #request #blood tw #violence cw

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celtics534 · 4 years

Text

Whatever it Takes

Covert Love Chapter 21

It’s finally over 😥! The final chapter of Covert Love is upon us. Y’all have been amazing with your love for this story and it makes me so happy! Thank you for all the encouragement and love 😁. I need to credit the amazing @thedistantdusk for all her help with this story! Literally the best person ever!!

This chapter title is based on Whatever it Takes by Imagine Dragons.

Read on: FF.net or AO3

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“ Hey, Prue. Long time no see .”

Harry’s entire body turned to ice at those words, at that voice. He’d know that voice anywhere. It was in all his dreams of the future, in every daydream his mind concocted, and it was the voice that made him feel safe with every word spoken. Except for those six words. Except for in this moment where he was tied up by a lunatic who had a crazy obsession with the love of his life (who happened to be the owner of the voice).

He tried to turn, to look at her, but the rope Prue had tied around him stopped him from turning more than ninety degrees. But even with that limited angle, Harry was able to see Ginny standing in the kitchen doorway, her palms out.

Prue’s shoulders tensed at the familiar voice. She spun around slowly, her eyes sharp as steel as she stared at the person. “ Well , I didn’t expect to see you here , my dear.”

Ginny’s laugh was humorless. “I could say the same for you, Prue.” She moved forward slowly, her gaze locked on Prue. “How about we catch up. I think we have a few things to talk about.”

The laughter that came out of Prue was manic, raising the hairs on his arm. “What is there to talk about, Ginevra? You were supposed to stay at my house. Actually.” Prue’s brow knit together. “How did you get here? France isn’t a short trip.”

France ! Harry’s mind faltered at the word. Prue had taken Ginny all the way to France! They hadn’t even spread their search past the United Kingdom. At the rate they had been going… Nope ! Harry needed to focus on what was going on right in front of him, not some what-if situation.

He took a deep breath, which wasn’t an easy task due to the gag shoved in his mouth. Ginny had moved to stand only a few meters away from him. She was so close he could almost touch her (if it weren’t for the rope pinning his arms to the back of the chair). Every part of him ached to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her. Of course, all the relief he felt at seeing her was numbed by the situation they were in. Yet all his body craved was a chance to hold her in his arms.

“So, care to tell me why you’re here in my brother’s house?” Ginny asked as if she were merely discussing the most recent rainfall. “I assume you have a reason for showing up uninvited to their lovely home.”

“Well, I had to meet this adorable niece you keep raving about!” Prue lofted Victoire a little higher in her arms, making the little girl whimper. “And of course I thought, why not having a cup of tea with the family while I was at it, but for some reason the moment I showed up everyone got rather tense. Including your little boy toy over there.” She jerked her chin at Harry.

“I can’t imagine why.” Ginny’s tone oozed sarcasm. “People tend to respond poorly to surprise visitors, Prue.”

Prue stared at Ginny for a few seconds before her lips curled into a condescending smile. “You may be right there, my friend. Next time I’ll have to remember to send an owl. But until then…” Prue twisted the blade in her hand ever so slightly, making it dig into Victoire’s skin a little more. “How about we all settle down for a lovely chat.”

“Should I go make that tea?” Ginny asked, her tone still level as if they were talking about morning broom traffic over Dublin. If Harry didn’t know Ginny as well as he did, he might have been fooled by her aloof attitude. But if there was one thing in this world Harry was proud to understand was Ginny Weasley. The way her fingers twitched every few seconds, the stiff way she stood, and the tension in her jaw… Ginny was nowhere near relaxed.

Ginny had told him stories about her tremendous acting skills. As a child, she’d used it to get an extra biscuit or get one of her brothers in trouble instead of herself, but Harry hadn’t yet been graced with a presentation of her skills. But as he watched her go toe to toe with Prue he decided she was as good as she’d claimed, maybe even better.

Prue’s head tilted to the side, as if considering Ginny’s offer. After a few moments, Prue shook her head. “Why don’t you take a seat beside your brother?” She jerked her chin to Bill. “Best seat in the house. You’ll be able to see everyone and everything .”

Again, if Harry wasn’t adept in watching Ginny he would have missed the way her neck tensed as she swallowed hard. “Oh? And what will I be privy to seeing?”

The wicked smile that turned Prue's lips made Harry's heart pound against his ribs. Her eyes fell onto him. "Something that should have happened a long time ago."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry bit his tongue as the steel blade ripped into his leg. He refused to give her the satisfaction of showing how much pain he was in. Prue's cuts were precise and deep. Every swipe of her knife sent fire shooting through his body.

The first few cuts hadn’t been so bad, but after Prue’s twentieth slice Harry had given up keeping count. He’d closed his eyes after the tenth slash. At first he'd kept his gaze locked with Ginny, who was straight across from him, her arms and legs bound, but after the tears started falling silently down her cheeks Harry couldn’t look any more. She had tried to stay strong for him, but he saw her wince at every mark Prue made.

“You know,” Prue’s voice was higher than normal as she spoke somewhere to his left. The amusement was too clear in her tone. “This could all stop if you acknowledge your true calling, Ginny.”

Harry slowly opened his eyes to see Ginny’s pinched face, clearly trying to hold back any more tears. When she spoke, the tremble in her voice made Harry’s gut clench. “I don’t know what you mean, Prue. I’ve never known what you meant by that!”

Prue made a tisking noise with her tongue as she tapped the blade of the knife against the side of Harry’s chair. “I was afraid you’d say that.” Harry didn’t even see her hand move but rather felt the sting of the blade as the wound opened on his bicep. Prue let out a high pitched laugh that made every hair on Harry’s body stand on end. “ Whoops .”

Harry forced himself to breathe through the pain. He looked over at Ginny who looked ready to crawl her way to Prue to kill the woman. The way Ginny’s eyes burned with rage… Harry had never seen her emit such anger. He’d seen her angry a time or two, but this… this was a level of intensity that would make Harry cower if the look was direct at him.

“Prue.” Ginny’s voice had lost all its false serenity. Now her fury washed off her like tidal waves. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about! So why don’t you stop this insanity!”

Prue just shook her head as she circled around Harry, like a bloodthirsty shark. She let the knife tip graze over Harry’s body as she went around. His shoulder, bicep, arm, thigh. An uncontrollable shiver ran down Harry’s spine every time the blade touched bare skin.

“I’m disappointed to hear you say that.” Prue stopped so she stood directly behind him. Harry watched the knife skim over his arm to hover over his neck. “And I’m sure boy wonder here is feeling… discouraged by your inability to grasp your true self.”

Harry stared at Ginny, willing her to look at him. There were so many things he needed to tell her. How this wasn’t her fault, how much he needed her to stay safe, how much he loved her… He prayed that she could understand all that just by looking him in the eye. But she didn’t take her gaze off Prue.

“I swear if you kill him -'' Ginny's jaw clenched as she pursed her lips so tightly together that the skin around them became impossibly white. Her chest was heaving as she struggled against her bounds. “Just take me instead. Forget about them… about him.”

He could feel Prue’s body as she stood stiffly behind him. Harry could imagine her staring at Ginny with that cold, calculating look. When she spoke her tone was that of a soothing parent, yet her words sent another round of shivers down Harry’s spine. “No, sweetie , you need to be taught a lesson and I think this is the only way.”

The tip of the blade dug into Harry’s skin. He sucked in a deep breath. Harry wasn’t afraid to die. No, in his line of work he’d accepted his death might come at a young age. But to die knowing Ginny would still be in danger… it made a claw seize his heart in a tight hold.

He could feel Prue’s fingers at the side of his neck as she started to let the blade slide along his skin millimeter by millimeter. Harry closed his eyes, wishing he’d been given more time. Time to fulfill his dreams with Ginny. The dreams of getting married, having children, growing old together and getting to watch their grandkids play as they sat on their back porch.

Then suddenly the pain lessened to nearly nothing. Harry briefly wondered if she’d somehow killed him instantly. But the logical part of him knew that was nearly impossible with a neck slash. Then the noise of a scuffle reached his ears. He opened his eyes to see the bloody knife laying on his lap while Ginny and Fleur wrestled with Prue.

He had no idea how the two women had escaped their binds but apparently while Prue had been busy with him, they’d been doing their own work. Ginny’s fist connected with Prue’s cheek bone, making the woman cry out in pain. Fleur had focused on Prue’s feet, knocking her to the ground.

Ginny followed Prue to the ground. Straddling her waist while her knuckles slammed into Prue’s nose, making blood gush instantly. Prue howled in rage and pain, however she didn’t give up easily. She kicked out, knocking Fleur away from the tussle.

Harry struggled against his binds. He needed to help Ginny. Fleur rushed over to him, grabbing the knife from his lap. “ Une seconde, chérie ,” she said before hurrying off to free Bill’s ties.

Normally, Harry would have been offended at Fleur’s choice to free Bill first. But he had to figure his appearance didn’t inspire confidence in being ready for a fight. Hell, without the adrenaline coursing through his system, Harry was almost certain he would have blacked out. He did a quick visual inspection of himself. His once-white shirt was now a dark red and his blue jeans now had darker stains tinting numerous spots. Yeah, he didn’t exude ready for combat .

Harry’s focus was divided between the two groups. To his left Fleur, sliced every braid on the binds that held Bill. To his right, Ginny had Prue pinned to the ground, both women fighting with a fury rarely seen even on a battlefield. For every punch Ginny landed, Prue claws marked Ginny’s skin.

Everything was moving so quickly that Harry’s mind could hardly keep up. One second, there were three strands of rope binding Bill, then there was nothing. At the same time, Prue’s right hook connected perfectly with Ginny’s temple, making the red head fall backwards. Ginny’s loss of balance was all Prue needed. She pushed Ginny off her, springing to her feet faster than Harry expected.

He could see the short lived debate in Prue’s eyes, to run or to fight. It wasn’t more than a second before her flight instincts took control. She bolted towards the kitchen, but Bill was hot on her heels. With a tackle that would have made a rugby player proud, Bill took Prue down to the hardwood floor.

That was when he noticed Fleur had begun to cut his ropes. She was already to the last knot before he’d noticed. Then he was free and on his feet. He reached into his back pocket where he kept a pair of muggle zip ties that he crafted into handcuffs. Bill had Prue face down into the floor, giving him easy access to her wrists.

Prue was screaming unintelligibly into the floor, her body wiggling under Bill, but he outweighed her by nearly five stone, making her struggle for escape practically pointless.

After Harry pulled the ties tight, he rose to his feet, Bill locked eyes with him. “I’ve got her.” his voice was like sandpaper, but his eyes were steady. “Go check on everyone.”

It took Harry a moment to think past the fact they’d caught Prue to remember that there were others in the room. He turned around to see if Ginny was still on the floor where Prue had knocked her, but she’d risen to stand beside Fleur. The two women were trying to comfort a crying Victoire, who had been tied next to her daddy when Prue had turned her focus onto Harry. Fleur pulled the little girl into her arms and held Vic to her chest. Harry could see Fleur trembling as she held her daughter close.

Ginny turned around and their eyes locked. Harry’s mind was completely empty, except of her. Of Ginny, who was the most incredible woman he’d ever met. His legs moved with no hesitation. He needed to get to her, to touch her. Within five long strides he was holding her face in his hands.

Her face had numerous cuts, darkened bruises, and a lip that was rapidly swelling, but she’d never looked more beautiful to Harry. “Are you okay?” His voice was just as rough as Bill’s, but at the moment he couldn’t care less about his scratchy throat. All that mattered was what he held in his hands.

Ginny smiled at him, that smile she saved only for him. “Never better.” She rose to her toes to lightly kiss him. For such a chaste peck, it said so much to Harry. In the two seconds their lips touched, Harry’s heart expanded two sizes with the love he felt for this woman. He leaned his forehead to hers as she said, “I don’t know if you know this, but punching someone is very therapeutic.”

It took a second for his tired mind to register her words, but once they had, Harry started laughing. Ginny joined him, her smile wide as she laughed too. To an outsider they might have looked insane, but Harry couldn’t care less. He was alright, Ginny was alright, and past that nothing else mattered. He kissed her again, letting his lips linger this time speaking against her smile. “I love you.”

Ginny ran a hand up the side of his neck before cupping his jaw. “Right back at you, darling. I think we need to take a little holiday. Have a chance to relax. Somewhere warm and where I can have my way with you whenever I want.”

Harry’s breath hitched as he nodded. “Oh that can definitely be arranged.” He kissed her one final time. “But first, we’ve got to introduce our friend over there to her new cell in Azkaban.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“So Prue was convicted of all accounts,” Jamieson greeted as he plopped a manila folder on Harry’s desk. “Five accounts of kidnapping including a minor, multiple accounts of torture, and of course the stalking.”

Harry picked up the file and quickly flicked it open to see Prue glaring at the camera, her scowl becoming more prominent with each second. Her nostrils flared as she stared down the photographer. “That was fast. A trial and conviction in three weeks. Did Tonks discover anything else that could be added to Prue’s sentence?”

After Prue’s final attempt at freeing Ginny, Tonks and her partner, Emmeline Vance, had dug into Prue’s background and financials. Harry hadn’t been allowed to help due to his removal from the case, and his forced medical leave. He’d been commanded to take three weeks’ leave, which for once hadn’t bothered him because Ginny had also been given time off from the Bats.

They had taken their medical leave to heart, deciding a trip away was the perfect remedy to heal their emotional wounds (because the St Mungo’s healers had easily healed their physical trauma). The Spanish coast they’d found had been secluded and ideal for them. They’d swum with dolphins, eaten a plethora of bananas grown right outside their casa’s window, and spent every night in bed together.

But none of that had been his favorite moment of their holiday. There had been one night that outshone the rest. Every time he thought about that evening a goofy grin split his face. The sunset on his back, Ginny’s hand in his, the waves creating the perfect melody as they crashed against the sand… the best moment of his life had been the instant Ginny has said —

“Potter?” Jamieson slapped his arm, bringing Harry out of his daydream.

“Hm? Oh sorry!” He cleared his throat. “What were you saying?”

Jamieson snorted. “Clearly you had a good medical leave based on that cat-ate-the-canary grin.” Harry could feel his cheeks heat as his boss continued. “Tonks was able to find Prue had offshore accounts. Apparently, before coming to Ireland she’d had a rather lucrative muggle business, which we discovered to have been committing tax fraud before she’d performed an insurance fraud that allowed her accounts to reach a level to somewhere in the high millions.”

Harry had not seen that coming. “Seriously?”

“Yup.” Jamison popped the last letter. “The muggle police had been on her trail until she’d confounded them and disappeared to Ireland.”

“Okay so that’s where she gained her wealth, but what caused her to become obsessed with Ginny?”

“Ah.” Jamieson let the word out on a sigh, propping his hip on the side of Harry’s desk. “It turns out Canon had grown up in an abusive household. Her father was Tom Riddle.”

The name was familiar to Harry, but he couldn’t quite place it. “Remind me of who that is.”

“He was one of France’s most notorious killers. He ran one of Paris’ largest drug cartels. In his twenty-five year reign, he made over five hundred thousand in profit. But during that time he impregnated a young prostitute by the name of Estelle Canon. Based on the intel we’ve gathered through journals found at the homestead where Prue brought Ginny, Riddle sold Prue’s mother to a rival gang for access to their land. Riddle was trying to expand his empire out of Paris. But once Prue’s mother was gone, there was no one there to protect Prue from Riddle’s... more sinister behaviors and desires. ”

Harry’s gut clenched because he had a good idea of what Jamieson meant by desires , and even though he hated Prue, no one deserved to be abused like that. He let out a deep breath. “Okay, so she had a really bad childhood. But that doesn’t explain her fascination with Ginny.”

“Prue’s mother used to read her children’s books where a goddess was stuck on Earth. The goddess was said to be stuck in a human form until she discovered decency among humans. Prue somehow connected Ginny with the goddess in the tale.”

“Okay, I can get that on a crazy level, but why Ginny? Have we tried to get her to explain why she thought Ginny was this goddess?” Harry asked.

Jamieson snorted. “Of course! Vance has been to Azkaban everyday, but Prue refuses to speak. Anything we learn is going to be through her journals, which I’m surprised she even had. We’re planning on taking them to Ms Granger when she has some time.”

Harry nodded, he was no psychologist, so trying to understand why Prue kept a diary was a mystery to him, but maybe Granger could figure things out. “Well, I’m just glad it’s over.”

“You and me both, Potter. “Jamieson clapped a hand to his back. “You did good, minus the whole falling in love with your ward thing.”

Harry looked up into his boss’ amused eyes. “Sir, with all due respect, I’m pretty sure when you knew when assigning me the case that it’s nearly impossible not to fall in love with Ginny Weasley.”

Jamieson let out a bark of a laugh. “I’d never tell her, but that girl had me wrapped around her finger the first time Bill introduced us.”

“Oh and how easy it was,” an amused voice came from behind the two aurors, making them jump and turn to look at the woman they’d been talking about. Ginny was beaming at them as she moved closer.

Jamieson rolled his eyes before smiling at Ginny. “What are you doing here, Weasley?”

She pointed at Harry. “We have an appointment with my parents this evening and I refuse to let him claim some work -- thing -- as a distraction.” She met Harry’s eyes. “We’re in this together aren’t we, Potter?”

Harry could feel that goofy smile coming back. “You know I’d follow you anywhere, Love.”

Again, Jamieson rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to watch this. Potter, you’re free to go once you return that report to Tonks.” He pointed to the folder that he’d lefted on Harry’s desk. Then he was gone, moving across the bullpit to his office without so much as a farewell.

Ginny took Jamieson’s vacated spot, leaning slightly on the edge of his desk. “So how was the first day back?”

Harry shuffled the papers back into the folder, before rising from his chair. He stood in front of Ginny, his fingers moving to graze her hips “Not so bad, though… My mind did wander quite a bit.”

“Hmmm.” Ginny stood to her full height, still making her half a head shorter than him. “And what did your rambling thoughts focus on?”

He brought his hand to hers, threading their fingers before pulling their joined palms up to his lips. He kissed each knuckle until he reached her ring finger where two bands rested. The engagement ring they’d recovered from Prue’s house and the silver ring he’d slid there only a week ago. “How much I missed my wife and wished we were still in our little seaside casa where I could drag her off to bed whenever I wanted.”

Ginny pulled their interlocked fingers away from his face so she could replace it with her lips. She smiled against his mouth, “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about my handsome husband while going through Kennedy’s drills.”

Harry groaned quietly as she nipped at his bottom lip. “How upset would your parents be if we skived off tonight?”

She laughed, pressing a final peck to his lips before away.“Pretty angry, seeing as we’re already going over there to tell her we eloped. Best not to test Molly Weasley’s patience by cancelling.”

He sighed. “I know you're right. At least I think our parents will take it better than Sirius. He’s going to throw a fit that he wasn’t there to be my best man.”

“Don’t worry, love.” Ginny brought their joined hands to her lips before using them to pull him towards the exit. “I’ll protect you from our disgruntled parental figures.”

“I’ll be holding you to that, Ginny Potter.”

She sighed happily. “I love it when you call me that.”

“ Do you.” Harry stopped their movement to pull her into a small alcove near the muggle exit of the auror offices. He pressed her back so she leaned against the wall. “I’ll make sure to say it more often,” he said, leaning in to put his lips right next to her ear. “Mrs Potter.”

Ginny's hand came to knot in his already messy hair, drawing his lip away from her ear before kissing him. “At — this — rate — we’ll never — make — it.” Ginny said each word in between kissing him.

Harry was about to say he didn’t mind one bit, but Ginny cut his words off with a heated kiss that made his mind go blank. Right as he started to debate if he could get away with setting some privacy charms around their little niche, Ginny pulled away. Her hand slid back into his, their matching rings clinking happily together. She winked. “Remember that for later tonight.”

Then she pulled him out of their hideaway and towards the street where they could apparate back to their flat. Harry smiled as they stepped out into the rare Irish sunshine. He couldn’t believe how much his life had changed all because of a covert mission. All because he’d fallen in love with Ginny Weasley.

#hinny #hinny fic #Harry Potter #Harry and Ginny #harry potter fanfiction #harry X ginny #harry potter fan fiction #Covert Love Chapter 21 #Covert Love Final Chapter

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ill-skillsgard · 4 years

Text

Bred For Blood - Part 16 - Eye in the Sky

Title: Bred For Blood

Warning: 18+ - sex/mature language & themes/gun violence/substance abuse etc. *this part contains death, blood/injuries, drug use, mentions of sexual manipulation*

Characters: AU Axel Cluney, AU Ivar Lothbrok, AU Valter x OC

Description: A bright, young survivor meets an acid-gun slinging headhunter with a knack for melting faces and connections to a prodigal Utopia embedded in the heart of a deadly forest. Violence and passion incite a battle of fealty while betrayal nips at Zed’s heels.

Note: Over the months and months I’ve developed this story, a lot of it has changed. I’ve adhered to the same general storyline I originally came up with, but it’s taken on a different life. I’m realizing I fall under the “discovery writer” category more than ever. So, thank you for taking this fun journey with me as it unfolds! I appreciate all the comments and kind words <3 Let me know your thoughts as we travel toward the end of this funky little series I started forever ago.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Axel gaped at his wounded palm. An uneven split forced his middle and ring finger apart at a nauseating angle. The longer he stared, the more his arms trembled from the sight of his bisected tendons. Blood cascaded down his arm in swaths, more blood than he had ever spilled, collecting in sandy globs. In his horror, he almost forgot about the man bemoaning his death several feet away. Axel tried clenching a fist, but blistering agony shot through his wrist and forearm, crackling along severed nerves and stiffening his stained fingers. Disotto had been right; he’d never use his trigger-finger again.

Acid boiled in Axel’s stomach, a mixture of anger and dread. He turned to Rex writhing on the ground, assessing his wound crusted with sand and coagulating plasma. The hunter keened over Rex’s worse condition. Again, the Zeronauts failed to kill him, though his vision grew cloudy. Axel found his knife and shifted his weight off the side of the Rover, toward the man whispering prayers through bubbles of blood. When Rex caught wind of Axel’s approach, the man cowered, shielding his face with his tarry hands.

“I’m only following orders,” the slashed man shouted. “Please! If you’re gonna kill me, just do it.”

“No, I won’t put you out of your misery. I want your death to be slow and painful. Like how you left Glott back there,” said Axel.

The hunter shimmied closer, flipping his knife in his right hand to carve off an unstained strip of Rex’s cotton jersey shirt. Rex quivered as Axel wrapped the cloth around his left hand tightly. The blue material blossomed with blood, turning a deathly shade of indigo in seconds. He went for another swath of the man’s clothing, ripping the sleeve off to fold over the hole in his hand. Axel glimpsed the open wound in Rex’s side, then looked up at his wild eyes, shifting around in their sockets like a dying animal searching for an escape.

“Tell me about this Dal guy you and your buddies were talking about. Is he your leader or something? He calls the shots?” Axel asked.

Rex spat a gob of blood, laughing as it rolled down his whiskered chin. “What do you think?”

Axel held the knife under Rex’s nose. “I think you’ll die with a few more nasty cuts on your body if you don’t tell me where I can find your leader. I’ll carve you like a turkey, my man.”

“That’s the thing about us... We don’t have leaders, just as the Unity intended. There are Brights, and there’s Uns, and it’s us against them. You kill one of us, and there’s a hundred more to take our place,” Rex claimed.

“No. It’s not you against them; It’s you against the planet. The Brights are the ones saving your sorry asses. You anarchists can’t seem to understand that we need them.”

Rex’s stone-grey eyes fluttered as he took in a trembling breath. “Why do you fucking care? The Unity wanted you dead, too.”

Axel looked down at his fake teardrop. If he hadn’t been fighting in the war, would they have considered him for immunization? It was a question Axel asked himself a thousand times, and the answer was always negative. He should have died in the storms, but he hadn’t. The spores didn’t reach the ocean, and therefore, never had the chance to infect him or the small crew of abandoned soldiers sailing home.

Axel grimaced at his stained forearm. “That doesn’t mean I want to kill every brightblood I find.”

“No. But you’ll use them to protect yourself. Just like we do,” Rex said with a sticky smile.

“Fuck you. Your little band of outlaws is exactly the people they tried to eradicate. People who only see others as slaves.”

“The Brightlings you care so much about are bred for blood. Blood that we need to survive—that you need to survive. The Unity branded them like cattle for easy picking.”

Axel rose to his knees, wincing from the slash above his ankle. “That’s the thinking that’s getting you and all your merry men killed. Rapists, slave-drivers, murderers... There's no room for you on this planet.”

“What does that make you, Mister Zee?”

“Yeah, I’m a killer. And I’ll die a killer if it means getting rid of scum like you,” Axel said, spitting on Rex’s dirtied face.

A low chuckle rumbled in Rex’s esophagus, tapering off as he shut his eyes, limbs turning limp where he lay sprawled over the sand.

Axel sat for a moment to catch his breath, then crawled from body to body, checking their pockets and patting down stiff torsos for anything useful. He found a few rounds of ammunition, a half-full pack of cigarettes, a glass pipe with a burnt and bulbous end, another butane lighter, a folded piece of paper bearing his likeness and several uncut rubies. He tossed the crack pipe and kept the rest, stuffing it all into his pockets with his left arm pressed to his side.

A dry wind swept in from the South, the direction he needed to go if he could only haul himself to a stand. He sat slumped over, unlacing his boot to get a better look at his wounded ankle. The cut was deep and gushing still. He bandaged his ankle in the same way he had his hand—with the jersey cotton stripped from Rex’s shirt. After winding the dressing around his foot, it was too bulky to stuff back into his boot, so he left it behind as he crawled toward the duffle bag of papers from Glott’s lab. He emptied his pockets into the bag, then grabbed his rifle. A grisly piece of meat from the other Zeronaut’s face still clung to the butt where Axel had cracked his mouth apart. Though he couldn’t shoot acid, the weapon doubled as a club if he encountered more bounty hunters.

Stretching his right arm behind his back, he found the mushrooms he’d tucked in his pocket. In the bright afternoon light, the brown fibres glistened, white spots speckling the meaty caps atop long, feathery stems. Axel licked his lips but refrained from ingesting the mysterious fungus he found growing inside Glott’s supply closet. The last thing he needed was to poison himself. He was already sure he would die in the desert, if not from blood-loss, then from dehydration. The mushrooms were a last resort. He pocketed them again.

Axel assessed his itinerary. Although he’d sustained severe mutilation and a punctured ankle, he came away with another gun, more cigarettes and a few hundred thousand dollars' worth of stones. Axel saw no use for the rubies, but some people still valued objects more than human blood, so he kept them. It seemed unlikely he’d cross anyone who only wanted to trade, but the stones gave him a sense of comfort in case he happened upon a post.

If he was to consider what Rex said about a hundred more Zeronauts taking his place, Axel had to assume everyone was now an enemy. How many Zeronauts were there? Had they recruited more survivors, swelling their ranks while he pissed away his time in Kinderfeld? He shook his head and wobbled from dizziness. There was no more time for contemplation. Axel had to remain present.

On foot, getting back to the domes would take days, but with two of his limbs decommissioned, it would take much longer. He took all he could carry from the Rover and packed it into the duffle bag, including his last inches of water and two mystery packs of army rations. Axel scanned the horizon, took a step and cried out from the bolt of pain in his leg. Limping without a crutch was impossible, so he lowered to his knees and crawled in the direction from which his three assailants had come. They must have had a camp or a vehicle he could raid somewhere.

In the desert heat, with the duffle bag more cumbersome than ever, Axel’s lag proved difficult. Pain blazed through his leg with every bend of his knee, and his elbows supported his entire weight plus the full bag pressing on his back. He army-crawled through the sand, stopping every few shuffles to rest.

Axel made it over a steep dune before the dryness entered his lungs and sucked the moisture from his mouth. He paused for a gulp of water and grieved over how little he had left.

When he found no traces of Zeronaut vehicles, he looked back and considered returning to the Rover. Even on deflated wheels, he might get farther than what his aching body could manage.

Turning back was suicidal. Axel couldn’t waste another hour retracing the trail he left behind. It was onward or nothing.

Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids after long. The agony of using his arms to pull himself along depleted what little energy he had. Axel retired his injured appendage and used his right arm and leg to shift himself over hills and rough patches of stone.

His muscles stretched and burned as the sun beat down on his skin. The strain on his body caught up with him quickly, and he had to rest before he passed out from weariness. Axel shifted the duffle bag over his head to shield from the sun, took another sip of water and laid in the dust with his eyes closed. Every few minutes, he snapped awake, unable to doze for more than a few minutes before panic shook him.

As the sun set, Axel ripped open a foil bag and devoured the tomatoes, slimy noodles, and bits of chewy sausage swimming inside. Any other day, Axel might complain about the meal, but in his weakened haze, it tasted better than anything he’d ever eaten. Washing down the food with his last bit of water, he tossed the package and crawled several yards before a dull pain in the back of his head dizzied him again.

Frequent breaks frustrated Axel, and the emerging fog disoriented his sense of direction. Soon the night took over, and Axel shivered from the icy touch on his inflamed skin. He was burnt and filthy, head pounding while his ankle and hand throbbed without end. Though he’d eaten and drank the last remnant of water he had, a persistent thirst scratched in his throat.

“Fuck, I’m gonna die,” Axel croaked. “This will be your fucking grave, Cluney. You’re done.”

When he imagined dying with the duffle bag full of invaluable information, Axel’s heart clattered in his chest. That discovery in the hands of those who wished slavery upon the brightbloods would be disastrous. If he couldn’t make it back to Kinderfeld, he had to make sure the secret died with him. Nobody would get their hands on Zed because of his negligence, he vowed.

He scaled the sands until his body gave out. Muscles screaming in pain, Axel rolled onto his back and looked up at the night sky through a thin veil of fog.

“I’m sorry, Lea. I’m a fucking failure. Valter... Fuck. I should have been there for you. I’m such a fuck-up. Such a selfish, stupid fuck-up.”

Axel closed his eyes and let the darkness take him under.

When the sun peeked over the hills, Axel awoke, spitting dirt from his mouth as he coughed and winced from the agony living in every atom of his body. He couldn’t believe he was still alive to see another powder blue sky. However, his shoulders had seized from over-exertion, and the only movement he made was the desperate intake of air. Anguish pinned him to the ground until he summoned the strength to unzip the duffle bag and rummage around, one-armed, for a cigarette and lighter.

Axel smoked while sprawled in the sand, watching puffy clouds sail overhead. There was only an hour of mild temperature before the sun climbed higher and burned away the moisture left from the misty night.

“Why am I not dead?” Axel asked himself.

A strong wind swept sheets of dust over his latent form, blinding him until his eyes watered. If he stayed where he was, by noon, he’d be half-buried. But he could barely move to stop this from happening. He saved his energy for rolling onto his stomach to fish the mushrooms from his pocket. It took half an hour to accomplish this, and by the time he had hold of the speckled caps, he did not argue against consuming them.

He gnashed the sponge and grainy strands to a pulp, swallowed, and hoped for the best. The woody flavour reminded him of old times taking dried psilocybin mushrooms as a teenager. What effects Glott’s fungi produced remained a mystery.

Axel sighed and tried not to think about Lea and Vee. He closed his eyes, picturing simpler times and places that brought him joy until he realized there were few scraps of memory that provided him with any relief. He had left home at a young age as his parents acknowledged his brother’s accelerated development and put their focus into nurturing his intelligence instead of disciplining a boy who laughed in the face of authority. While Axel set off to take drugs and contract sexually transmitted infections that required horse pills and multiple shots in the ass to cure, his family grew tighter without him. Vee grew into a man. Then came the army and quest for structure. But there was no structure in the military either. There were routines and discipline, but no sense of permanence. It only threw him into further chaos, showing him real horrors that made his small-time forays in local crime seem like a joke.

He remembered the boat ride home, the piercing silence of a desolate group of men who’d been long abandoned, forgotten by their superiors and the world. They were throwaways, disregarded by the country who first outfitted and weaponized them. Ivar was his only anchor to life without torment, and even he had changed from the war.

The only memory that didn’t haunt him was the recent times he’d spent with Azalea. She didn’t judge him harshly—only when he deserved it—for she didn’t understand the gravity of his past transgressions. Axel would give anything to be back in their conjoined apartment, drinking acidic wine with Vee, playing board games like they were kids again.

Behind his heavy lids, Axel saw the sun break without opening his eyes. A sliver of white light grew into a crescent, a half-moon, an eyeball with no iris. It blinked, staring at his feeble body with judgment.

What are you doing lying in the sand?

“I’m dying,” Axel answered the ominous voice overhead.

So soon?

“Maybe not soon enough,” said Axel.

How boring. Zeitgeist, the famous headhunter, reduced to dirt.

“It’s been a long time coming.”

The glowing orb sighed, giving off radiation Axel could feel. A red aura, wriggling like a crown of worms, throwing off golden hailstones that burst into a fine mist.

“When I was in the Middle East, I got the feeling I’d die like this. Maybe I’m some kind of low-level prophet.”

Predicting one’s own death is hardly a show of prophecy. You’ve spent your life doing things no regular person should survive. This death... This is a lifetime of poor decisions catching up with you.

“Am I talking to myself, or am I tripping?”

Perhaps a little of both.

“Hm... At least I’ll die high out of my mind. These scientists sure make great psychedelics.”

Axel opened his eyes and gasped at the sprawling panorama of white dollops convulsing over a roiling screen of blue. The clouds came closer, and he drew a breath in through his nose, tasting the thick air as he rose his good hand to the amoebic spectacle before him. The wind curled through, skewing the shapes into fresh forms, erasing and reforming them with every gust: flowers, sailboats, insects and gaping faces.

“Wow. That’s crazy,” Axel whispered, smirking.

The sand softened and welcomed his battered limbs into a cradle of warmth. A blissful smile unfurled on his face as the clouds continued their spastic dance across the never-ending sky, showing him dreamy visions of abstract figures.

“I wish I was home. I never took Lea out to ride dirt bikes.”

Then go home, Axel. Go back to your family. Tell them what you know. Be the hero, not just the man with the best gun and biggest balls.

“But I can’t move!” Axel whined.

The ground buzzed underneath him as though each grain sprouted legs to carry him through the desolation. Millions of tiny ants worked together to haul his body across the desert as if they understood the importance of his return to Kinderfeld. He longed to scratch the itch at his back, but his arms were leaden.

“What happens if I die and they never find out about Lea?”

Then you die, and they die not long after.

“No. Don’t say that.”

You’re the one saying it.

A sinking sensation opened in Axel’s chest as his nerves responded to the numbing effect of the mushrooms. Soon, Axel was floating on a cloud, the ants falling away as his pupils expanded, and his brain’s chemistry changed.

Take her to the Maw. That’s what Glott said. Get up and go home.

“She hates me.”

She trusts you.

“I’ll die before I get there. It’s pointless.”

If there’s no point, you might as well keep crawling.

“But I’m so comfortable. Is this what dying really feels like?”

I guess you’ll find out soon enough.

Axel sighed. “Maybe it’s not so bad... Dying.”

Sure, you can die on a cloud, smiling like an idiot, while your enemies are out there looking for a way into your home to kill your brother and rape the woman you promised to protect. Or you can keep crawling.

“Y’know, for the sun, you have a dark sense of humour.”

Better get going before someone else finds you and gets their hands on those papers.

Muddled and rash from the whiplash of the mind, Axel reached back into the duffle bag, feeling around for the hand-written documents. When his fingers skated over a smooth sheet, he crumpled it and brought the loose wad to his mouth. Axel stuffed the paper between his teeth and chewed.

Through a mouthful of paper and ink, Axel giggled and reached for another sheet but found his lighter instead.

He burned the rest, chuckling as tears poured down the sides of his head.

~*~

Zed watched Ivar’s chest expand and retract while they laid together in a nest of damp sheets. Silent, she bit down on her lip as the king turned to her, an elated smile revealing all of his teeth.

“Wow,” he whispered. “That was... Wow.”

Zed flushed from the silly look he gave her. “Stop it.”

“Lea...”

“Ivar?”

The King turned on his side and pulled her close, tucking his face under her jaw. She embraced him while staring up at the billowing ceiling. She wondered what the Chrysalis looked like stripped of all its livery. Was it still as beautiful without the ornate clothing? She shook her head and fluttered her eyes, pushing away irrelevant thoughts.

“Can I be honest with you?” Ivar asked.

“I hope so,” Zed whispered, shuffling her nose into his rose-scented hair.

“I’ve had a lot of—I mean, I’m no prude, but that was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Oh, be quiet,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Ivar drew back to peer into her in the eyes, his playful smile replaced with palpable seriousness. “I’m telling you the truth. Your body... It’s like you were made for me. You're so beautiful, I want to drape you over me forever and wear you like ear-muffs.”

“What would you know about ear-muffs, oh king of the desert?”

“Plenty.” Ivar’s smile returned. “I hale from the North. They don’t call me Viking for nothing.”

“Right,” she said.

Ivar put a little more distance between them, sensing her discomfort.

“What’s the matter? You’re okay with what happened, right?”

Zed snapped a smile over her lips. “Yes! I don’t know how many times you asked for my permission. It was only a matter of time before we...”

“Made love?”

The thermal rush of nerves returned to her cheeks. “Yes. Made love.”

“I don’t want you to regret it because I don’t. The moment you walked into this place, I swore off all other women. I only wanted you in my life. And I’m glad you pulled off whatever mischievous thing you had to get in here. Waking up to your face was heavenly.”

Zed welcomed him back into her arms. He laid his head on her chest. "I’m glad you’re not mad at me," she said. "I worried you’d send me away. But it was worth the risk."

Ivar stroked her bare skin, sighing. “It’s only for our protection.”

“But they can’t get in here. Not unless we allow them.”

Ivar stared across the room at the curtained entrance. “I don’t know anymore, Lea.”

“What do you mean?” She whispered.

“There are many hostiles out there now. More than I ever predicted.”

“How do you know this?”

“I've seen them.”

Zed’s heart plummeted, skipping a beat as a wave of dread squeezed her throat. Ivar rolled onto his back, ready to admit things to her he had told no one. Not even Axel.

“Do you remember that night I cancelled on you?”

“Yes, we were supposed to have dinner.”

I had dinner with Axel instead.

“It wasn’t because dwellers were looking for trade and shelter. It was a group of scavs looking for Zee.”

“The Zeronauts?” Zed gasped.

Ivar nodded grimly. “There’s a bounty on him—a big one. They came looking for Zee, threatening to blow up the compound if I didn’t turn him over. I said he wasn’t inside, that he’d left a while ago. At first, they didn’t believe me, but I guess I must have convinced them.”

Zed sat up in bed, clutching the sheet to her bare chest. “What did you do?”

“I suppose my acting skills paid off. They wanted to take me up on my word, search around the village, but I refused. By then, they realized the firepower we had and backed off. I didn’t expect them to return so soon.”

“But... Axel went out there. What if they found him? What if he’s dead?”

Ivar closed his eyes before tears emerged. “I know. But what can I do? He made his own choice. He didn’t want to stay, and to be honest, Lea, I didn’t want him here either. Not after what that filthy scav said.”

Zed’s nerves flared. “Now you listen to me. What Monk said was not true! I did not have sex with Axel in that camp. And if you refuse to believe me, then... Maybe I will end up regretting what we did.”

“It’s so hard to buy that, Lea,” Ivar said.

“Why? You don’t trust me?”

He gave a discourteous snicker and rolled his eyes. “Because I know Zee. A lot better than you do.”

“You’d take the word of a total stranger over mine?”

“I wanted to reject what the scav said. But he said something that struck me. Something I couldn’t discount.”

Zed glared at him. “And what’s that?”

He scoffed, unable to produce the words until he weighed the insult on Zed’s face.

“Wanna go boing-boing on Daddy’s dick?” Ivar mocked.

The heat fizzled from her face like a hot iron in cold water. Ivar shot her a knowing glance and nodded. “See? That look tells me everything. I’ve known Zee for years. We’ve shared enough that I know all his cheeky little lines.”

“We didn’t have sex! Yes, he pretended I was his slave to protect me. We didn’t know what we were walking into. He said it was a commune, but when we arrived, the Zeronauts had already taken over. They had a dozen guns pointed at us. It scared us, Ivar. You need to trust me. If you have feelings for me, you should believe when I say I never touched Axel like that.”

“What about the night you bugged out and leapt into his arms?”

Zed lowered her voice as her heart shuddered. “He was my only friend. You and I had just met, and the stories about you... I wasn’t ready. I spent a year in the desert by myself. I’d never done drugs, never met anyone like you guys. He helped me.”

“I want to believe you, Lea.”

“Then believe me!” Her voice rang through the room. “No one ever believes me! Not you, not them, not my friends when I was taken advantage of.”

Ivar cocked his head. “What are you talking about?”

Tears flowed over Zed’s cheeks as ghosts of her past breathed vexing reminders in her ear. What she read in Axel’s journal unearthed the memory she hated most and forced her to relive it in tainted colour. Now Ivar’s incredulity brought back the sting of betrayal she wished to forget.

“The first person I ever had sex with used me as a joke! He pretended to love me, and after I gave myself to him, he told everyone disgusting lies. He conned me out of my virginity. Someone who vowed I could trust him; that would protect me and make sure I was happy. I was nothing but a conquest. Bragging rights. And the worst part is... While I was being lied to, while he took my innocence, you and Axel were overseas fucking strippers! You behaved the same way that pig did! Then I finally trusted again—after you and Axel promised to keep me safe—and both of you fucked me over! Why do men only believe each other? Does what I say hold such little meaning to you?”

Ivar’s face froze.

“You are the only other person I have ever let inside me, and you’re making me regret it just like he did,” Zed cried.

“Lea—”

“Why would I lie to you? Why would Axel lie to you? He loves you like a brother, and I’ve seen how much he values his family.”

The king took her in his arms, and she rested her damp forehead on his shoulder.

“How do you know about that stuff?”

“I read Axel’s journals from the army. Vee gave them to me. He thought they might help me stop missing him.”

“Listen, I don’t know what you read in those journals, but I promise you, I’m not that man anymore, Lea. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you to him. Everyone loves Zee. Any girl I liked always wanted him because he’s famous. Handsome. Funny. My jealousy got in the way.”

“You’re all those things too, Ivar. Everyone here loves you. They made you a king, for Christ’s sake!”

“Only because Zee didn’t want to lead. But I get it, and I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I should have trusted you. Both of you.”

Lea sniffled, blinking against the remnants of tears, and hugged Ivar close. “We wouldn’t lie to you, Ivar.”

He smoothed his fingers down her spine, nuzzling into her braided hair and the closeness he’d almost chased away.

A quiet moment passed before Zed spoke up. “We have to search for him.”

Ivar shook his head. “No. We’re not leaving. Nobody is. Not while those scavengers are prowling. It’s too dangerous.”

“Ivar—”

“I’m serious, Lea. Nobody leaves. Zee can take care of himself.”

“It’s more than finding Axel. Everyone is scared, Ivar. We need medical equipment, doctors, something. People are dying here, too. Not just out there.”

A stubborn line appeared between Ivar’s brows. “We can hold out for a while. Supplies will come to us. There will be more dwellers at our door. We can start a trade with people who already know the outside. It’s too dangerous to send anyone, and we need all the men we can get to protect the village.”

Zed wanted to grab Ivar by the shoulders and shake and scream in his face, but they were both still too raw from the revelations they’d shared. She had to make calculated moves, one of them recognizing when to hold back. Ivar was bullheaded, but she had chipped away a layer of his mistrust. If she could convince Ivar to value her word as much as Axel’s, there was a chance of progress. Zed knew sleeping with him wouldn’t throw open the gates, but she made a bit of headway, and that was enough to settle her stomach for now.

"Fine. You're right. We should stay here and wait," Zed conceded.

The couple spent the rest of the morning tangled in the sheets. Zed did not suggest an excursion beyond the walls again, but maintained her resolve when Ivar let his feelings gush forth. He claimed to love her, but Zed suspected the king viewed his world through a romantic veil. Ivar couldn’t be in love. He didn’t know her well enough. But she let him revel in his fantasy.

She wondered if she was capable of love. With her trust in others injured and the state of the world in ruins, love seemed a burdensome child, hanging onto the ankles of a society struggling to recover. Fine to dabble in, like drink and drugs, but not a motto for advancement.

News of Axel’s bounty shocked her to the core. While Ivar pulsated between her legs, whispering words of praise and adoration against her neck, Zed stared at a distant spot on the wall, numb, hoping beyond hope her friend was still alive.

After breakfast, Ivar relinquished his grip on her, and she made her way to the lab to find Vee.

Zed entered the facility and found the gurneys empty. Confused, she searched the rest of the lab, turning up nothing, then made her way to Vee’s apartment. She rapped on the door, but nobody answered. She knocked harder, waited, then sighed and turned down the hall. The locked door to the incubation room opened, and Vee stepped out, looking surprised and relieved to see her.

“Lea! Finally. I was worrying.”

Zed noticed the whites of his eyes veined with red, the ditches beneath them dark and heavy. Light blond stubble lined his jaw and upper lip. It looked like he hadn’t slept since their last conversation.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

He shook his head, unsure of where to begin listing off the things that had gone wrong through the night.

“It’s a long, long story. And I’m starving. Do you have time to sit down?” He asked.

“Yes, of course,” Zed replied, worry rushing her tone.

Vee led the way to his apartment and held the door open for her. She took a seat on the sofa and waited for the scientist to return with a plate of dry-fried zucchini cakes. The scent wafted toward her, making her stomach growl.

“So, our patient died of his kidney failure last night. He never woke up,” Vee said before taking a bite of a cake. “I wish we had hot sauce in this place. Or salt.”

“What? Are you serious?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “We expected it. He knew it; we saw it coming. There was nothing we could do.”

Zed stared at Vee, awe-struck by his nonchalance. “What about Serena?”

“That I’m not sure. I think Sheraya took her back to the Hives to be alone.”

“What did you do with the body?” Zed asked.

“I didn’t do a thing. I was too busy dealing with the incubators we lost,” Vee supplied. “Lora had the guards remove him. She spent all night sterilizing the lab while I cleaned up after the lost specimens.”

She gasped. "What does this mean?"

"The experiments are gone—failed."

The sleep-deprived man finished a portion of his meal and offered the rest to Zed, who held her hand up in refusal.

“My work is truly lost, and the guards had to bury six children and one adult last night.”

“I don’t understand,” Zed shook her head. “How did the incubators fail?”

“Well, it’s not that they failed per se, rather we failed them. We don’t have the emulsions left to simulate amniotic fluid. Like I’ve been saying for weeks: our supplies are bone-dry. The people who built this place did not supply it with enough to bring a fetus to term, or they banked on traditional implantation, and I, for one, have no idea how to accomplish that. I studied advanced chemistry, not how to create humans from scratch. As much as I’d like to play God, I’m just a fucking scientist making do with what I have—which is nothing.”

Tragedy after tragedy, woe after woe, Zed buckled and fell against Vee, shaking and scrabbling for comfort. He set his half-empty plate aside to hold her close. The misfortune already had its chance to wrack his body, hence the dark blue crescents masking his eyes. By then, Vee was almost catatonic. The dread of telling Zed the news was part of the reason he hadn’t slept.

“I tested them though... The specimens. The mutation carries.”

Zed rolled her face on his shoulder, sopping the tears from her eyes as she pulled back with a sniffle.

“Really?”

“Yes. So, that’s some good news, right?” Vee said, lightening his expression for her comfort.

She nodded weakly. “What about the mixed-bloods?”

“One carried and one did not. Mine carried too,” he said with a lopsided smile.

Despite a positive report, Zed still couldn’t find it in herself to smile back.

“Vee, I’m so sorry about all of this. I wish there were something I could do, but I’m afraid my efforts last night yielded no results. Ivar is dead set on keeping the gates closed. And... He told me something else. Something terrible,” Zed said, picking at a cuticle as she avoided her friend’s stare.

“What now?”

“He said there’s a huge bounty out on Axel. He knew about it this whole time, and he just let him walk right into a trap.”

Vee leaned back, a flat expression on his face. He swallowed and closed his eyes, tilting his head back to rest on the sofa.

“Of course there’s a bounty on him,” he sighed.

Zed continued picking at a hangnail. There was nothing of comfort she could offer, so she shifted closer to Vee and laid her head against his shoulder. Vee brought his arm around her and rested his head on hers. They stayed that way for a while, unsure of how to progress. In all the bleakness of recent times, Zed was thankful to have someone who understood the gravity of their worsening situation. Vee was the only person buoying her above the most profound depression she’d felt since losing herself in the desert.

Despite the barbed strikes against them, Zed couldn’t hold back another sombre dirge. Every shred of hope slipped from her grasp. She wanted her mother and father—someone to hear and share her sorrows and offer her guidance.

“He’s going to die out there, isn’t he?” Zed asked.

Vee squeezed her shoulder. “I don’t know, Lea. That might not be comforting, but it’s the truth. Who knows what will happen now?”

“And sleeping with Ivar got me nowhere. I feel so foolish,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I was stupid to think I could change anything.”

Though she couldn’t see it, Vee frowned. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have allowed that to happen. You shouldn’t have had to resort to doing something you were uncomfortable with.”

“It was fine... Ivar was more than courteous. But I don’t think I love him. Maybe before all this, I could have, but now... He won’t open his eyes. He sees what he wants to see,” she said.

“Power can do that to men. They're blind to their surroundings. But I don’t want you thinking for that any of this is your fault or that you should have done more. You’ve done what you can. We all have. There’s nothing left to do but wait. Wait for life... Or death. It’s all the same.

“Please, I need you to at least pretend to be hopeful. I’m on the verge of a breakdown. You can’t go down with me.”

As the pair sat propped against each other, sighing and fretting in silence, the door swung open quietly, and a pair of bespectacled eyes peered into the apartment.

The thrum of Vee’s heartbeat lulled Zed’s weariness, and she placed her hand on the scientist’s chest. Locked in their embrace, Vee kissed the top of her head and rubbed her shoulder.

“If there’s one thing that’s brightened my horizons these last couple of months, it’s you, Lea. I’m glad Axel brought you here. It might have been the one moral decision he’s ever made,” Vee told her.

She lifted her head and nuzzled into his shoulder, smelling the remnants of cleaning solution clinging to the fabric of his shirt. “You’re so sweet, Valter. Even though I feel positively useless—”

“You are positively useless!” A voice cried out.

They snapped glances at the door, startled, and saw Lora standing there with her fists tight at her sides, shoulders hunched to her ears.

“Are you cheating on me with this brainless twit?” Lora continued.

Vee unhanded Zed and stood up, a stony expression wiping the calmness from his face. “What the hell are you doing in here, Lora?”

“I came to tell you I finished organizing all your files, but it looks like you’re too busy with the village bicycle to care!”

“First thing’s first, Lora, you and I are not together. And even if we were, Zed’s my friend, and I don’t appreciate you insulting her! This is my goddamn apartment. You can’t walk in here whenever you please!”

“Why? Because I’ll catch you sleeping with her?”

A fiery ball burst in Zed’s gut, igniting the anger that had been accumulating little by little until it shot up her throat. “What the hell is your problem, Lora? Ever since I got here, you’ve done nothing but spurn me! What did I ever do to you?”

“Are you stupid? Everyone here knows you’ve been sleeping with any man you can get your hands on. You’ve earned nothing, yet everyone treats you like you’re some kind of deity. You promised to help in the lab, but all you did was cause a rift and chase away the only person bringing in supplies. Now we’re screwed, and it’s all your fault!”

“Lora, stop!” Vee demanded.

“No! Someone has to say it! I’m tired of everyone giving her credit when I’ve done the grunt work and get zero thanks. You’re probably not even a real scientist!”

“Enough!”

Lora turned to Vee, malice puckering her lips. “I knew it’d only be a matter of time before she infected you, too. All you men are the same. An easy lay comes by, and you forget everything.”

“You’ve got a lot of shit to say for a lab assistant,” Zed hit back.

The ball of heat in her stomach threw off flares, awakening a fit of familiar anger that stiffened her muscles and set her jaw. When she stepped forward, Lora took a step back, and a heady rush of adrenaline caused her heart to pound and lips to curl into a sly smile. It was the same aggression she’d felt when the poachers attacked her in the desert, and while killing off Zeronauts after they’d forced her to strip at gunpoint. The sensation lent her fervency. She didn’t understand why the hostility fuelled her, but she embraced the burn, let it guide her actions.

“I’ve killed men three times your size. I suggest—if you like your bones intact—you shut your mouth and go back to doing what you do best: staying quiet and minding your own fucking business.”

Both Vee and Lora drew back from the heat of Zed’s threat. Scowling, Lora backed into the hallway, then turned and started away. When her footsteps faded down the hall, Vee went to Zed and placed his hand on her shoulder. She jumped from the sudden contact, then relaxed.

“Jesus, Zed,” he scoffed. “I know she deserved it but that was harsh.”

She stared up at him, eyes wide with remorse. “I’m not sure where that came from. I’m so tired of the accusations. Everyone thinks they know me, but they don’t!”

“It’s okay,” Vee said. “I know you. And you know you. Who cares what anyone else says? Lora’s been jealous of you since the second you walked through the lab doors. She sees every other female as a threat. Her ego is fragile.”

“Seems everyone's ego is paper-thin,” Zed muttered.

“Don’t worry about her, Zed. It’s done.”

Zed looked out into the empty hallway. Something told her the tension was only just taking form. There was a change in the air, a bitterness that permeated the domes, and she shivered, wondering what new troubles might fashion themselves in the coming days.

~*~

“Son... You alive, sonny?”

A man looked down at four sunburnt limbs—two of which crudely bandaged—jutting out from beneath a half-open duffle bag. Expecting to find a corpse under the heavy canvas, he kicked it aside and found the person alive, although for how long that life had left was a cause for concern. Though the person remained unresponsive, his blacked-out eyes roamed the sky, wide as sand dollars.

His camel sputtered as if to debate their investigative stop. He turned toward the animal, shrugged, then looked back at the gangly form upon which they stumbled.

The man aired out the flaps of his stained coat, making himself presentable as best he could.

“Can you hear me, son?”

Green-rimmed pupils dithered as a faint noise squeaked from his throat. The man in the long, thin coat retrieved a skin of water from the pack on his camel, then squatted next to the barely conscious person and poured a small measure of water between his dry, cracked lips. He swallowed, and the man in the coat smiled.

“Atta boy.”

He spied the teardrop scar on the man’s forearm, squinting at the mark to analyze its edges. It was a fake. Not unusual in these parts, but interesting to come across.

“Up for some more water?”

Another small sound drew his ear closer—something between a whimper and a syllable.

“Ma... Ma.”

“Ma? Speak up, son.”

“Muh.”

The man in the sand-stained coat tapped his chin. “Not to worry, sonny. The good doctor is in! Say, how about we take a look at that hand there? See what we’re working with?”

“M-ma.”

“Plenty of time to look for your mama after we patch you up.”

The camel snorted and received a mildly threatening look from its owner.

“Enough out of you, Rudie. I’m the one with the oats, and I say we give this fellow a hand. You have nowhere to be anyhow, so cool it, you oversized donkey. Now, let’s get you up. Ol’ Rudie here will be your chariot, good sir. Assuming you don’t intend to use that rather vicious-looking gun on us when you come-to. But, judging by your state, I don’t think you’ll be doing much of anything for a while. You’re lucky we found you, son. Mighty lucky.”

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xxisxxisxxis · 4 years

Text

Gateway Drug | Seventy-Three [pt.2]

Word count: 3.4k

Warning(s): explicit language, violence, drug abuse, verbal abuse

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"When are you gonna quit starting fights?" Fred asks me as I leave Guns' dressing room once they get out on stage.

"I'm not talking about this with you." I cut the possible conversation here.

"You're lucky none of the guys heard it, Viv." He says next.

"I said I'm not--"

"--First Sparkie, now Axl, how many of 'em are you gonna go at before the tour's over?"

I freeze.

"How did you know about that?" I ask Fred, my eyes wide, my heart feeling like it's stopped beating momentarily.

The sudden cracking of glass shattering and girls squealing echoes down the hall as someone yells:

"If you ever fucking touch her again I'll fucking kill you!"

But it isn't just someone. It's Nikki.

I don't ask anymore questions before Fred and I run down the hall, going to the hospitality room to see Nikki on top of Sparkie, punching at his face.

"You hear me?!" Nikki screams at him as Fred pulls him off.

"Nikki," Fred starts calmly, getting Nikki off of Sparkie, but Sparkie's face is still in kicking distance, and Nikki takes the opportunity to get three good kicks to the teeth in, completely oblivious to Fred's efforts to calm him down as he adds:

"Fucking touch her again and see what fucking happens you piece of shit!"

"Nikki!" Fred shouts over him, yanking him away from Sparkie.

"He's not fucking her up like he did Tansy!" Nikki argues, shoving at Fred's shoulders to get free.

Sparkie's garbled laughter sputters out through his blood soaked mouth.

"I've seen your guys' tapes, something tells me the easy bitch likes it anyway she can get it as long as something's in her--anywhere." He grins out, wincing in pain.

"Go to hell!" I bark as I go for the bastard next, my knuckles getting splattered with his blood as I pick up where Nikki left off before Fred's yanking me off of him, which is a mistake because with Fred sidetracked with me, Nikki's got his knife out, about to stab Sparkie, making more of the groupies scatter before they become witnesses to a murder, but now Doc's in here and snatches him back and Sparkie cowers to the corner, as far away as possible.

"What the fuck is going on?!" Doc's hollering at us, rage in his eyes as Tansy, Tommy, Vince, and Mick all make their way in.

"Sparkie?" Tansy asks, stepping to him, crouching down, her hands holding his blugended face, slight panic rising in her voice as she looks at Doc and says, "can we get him to a hospital?"

"Fuck no! Put him on a plane and send him the fuck home!" Nikki demands.

"Nikki." She argues, tears in her eyes.

"I don't give a fuck if he gets seen about or not but I'm telling you now, Tansy, if I see that motherfucker on this tour again, I'm fucking killing him!"

"I'm gonna report you for threatening my life." Sparkie groans out, trying to sit up.

"It's a fucking promise!" Nikki snaps at him.

"Okay, okay!" Doc shouts over Nikki, the vein in his forehead popping back out. "Tansy, I'll go to the hospital with you two, Nikki, Vivian, when the show's over you go to the hotel and you fucking stay there." He points his finger at us before looking at Fred. "You make sure they fucking stay there until I get back. I've fucking had enough of this shit."

Doc helps Tansy get Sparkie to a cab, and Nikki refuses to talk to any of the guys about what just happened, he just goes to the bathroom, and I follow after him--assuming he's going to shoot up, but he's just cleaning the blood off his face and hands from where it gushed out of Sparkie and onto him.

"Fred told you." I state when I get inside and he looks at me for half a second in the mirror above the sink before continuing to get the blood off his hands.

"He told me the sick fuck was practically pinning your arm behind your back to get you to fuck him." He tells me and I sigh in relief that Fred didn't tell him exactly what Sparkie was using against me.

"Thank you for taking up for me." I say to him and he splashes his face with water and turns the sink off.

"Did you expect me not to?" He asks and I raise a brow.

"I just expected you not to give a shit, honestly." I reply. "I thought you'd be too--" I stop myself from finishing that sentence and he lets out a breath.

"--Thought I'd be too high to give a shit." He finishes it for me and I nod a little, frowning slightly.

"He put Tansy in the hospital and probably fucked up the chance of her ever having kids. Whether you and me like each other right now or not is completely fucking bullshit when it comes to keeping that gross cuntface asshole away from you. High or not, I'm not standing around and letting him back you into a corner, I just wish you would've told me about it sooner, Vivian."

"Can you blame me for not wanting to? I feel like anytime I open my mouth around you, you flip your shit."

"I flip my shit? If anything I can't even walk into the same room you're in without you starting a fight with me." He throws at me.

"Because you deserve it."

"Right because I lied to you, cheated on you, chose drugs over you, made a mockery of your beliefs, humiliated you, shot you, and the list goes on." He repeats what I said to Tommy two weeks ago and I roll my jaw. "I get it, Vivian, I'm the piece of shit that should rot in hell forever...and I'm perfectly fine with that." He chuckles, rubbing his lips together. "Hang in there. Only a handful of months left and we can sign papers and pretend this whole thing never fucking happened." He adds, stepping to the door and I grab his wrist stopping him.

He looks down at me, his unshaven face tired from lack of sleep, his hazel eyes starting to regain consciousness after being dimmed from heroin.

He takes a step to me and I walk back until my lower back is hitting at the sink and he's making me bite my tongue when he lifts me up onto the sink, getting between my legs, his bruised hands grasping at my hair, making me look at him as I take heavy breaths.

I look from his eyes to his lips and he smirks, leaning down, his lips brushing against mine before he says:

"For someone who can't stand me, you really know how to give those 'fuck me' eyes." He tells me. "Too bad they don't work on me, anymore." He adds, his eyes staring mine down, before he's dropping his hands from my hair and turning on his heel, leaving me.

He claimed he was immune to me at that point, but yet he slept with groupies and pretended they were me, so I'm not sure how that lie was.

"The hell happened with Sparkie?" Izzy asks me, finally able to come down from the stage high, thirty minutes into Mötley's set.

I'm assuming the rumor of the carbuncle was getting around back stage like the plague and I look at him and Duff, Stevie, and Slash, who are all in the background, sitting down and cooling off.

I go with a half-truth.

"He was disrespectful towards me and Nikki had enough." I explain.

"He made a pass at you?" Izzy raises his brows, his tone getting slightly defensive.

"Yeah, but it's handl--"

"--What'd he do, he touch you?" He cuts me short.

"No." I lie, a little taken back by Izzy's defensiveness.

"Did he try anything?" Stevie asks next.

"Guys, no, it's handled anyway." I give them a small smile, though it falters when my eyes catch on Duff, who's smoking a cigarette, avoiding making direct eye contact with me.

If I would've told them the truth, Sparkie wouldn't have lived to die two years later.

I change into a t-shirt and pajama shorts, brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed as Duff gets out of the shower and starts getting ready to go out with Steven, Slash, Nikki and Tommy, standing behind me at the bathroom counter.

"So, like, Nikki and Doc wanted to talk to you about Sparkie?" He asks me about what I told him earlier about Doc wanting to speak to me and Nikki about the Sparkie incident.

"Uh, yeah." I try not to wince at how unsure I sound.

"Oh." He replies. "...What was so bad that Nikki put Sparkie in the emergency room over it?"

I take a moment to think about it, rubbing my lips together, shaking my head a little.

"I told you, baby, he just got outta line and Nikki handled it."

"What's 'outta line'?" He keeps on and I exhale.

"Duff--"

"--Is it being a verbal creep or getting his hands on you or both or what?" He questions.

"It doesn't matter, alright? It's handled."

"Yeah, I keep hearing that but you're still not being honest with me about it, Viv." He insists, his tone keeping steady and calm as I leave the bathroom. "What did he do?"

"I told you that it's taken care of, Duff, alright? Just drop it."

"If it's handled, why're you meeting up with Doc and Nikki to talk about it?" He asks me next and I turn to look at him where he's leaning against the bathroom door.

"Because Doc wanted to talk to us." I tell him, but he doesn't look completely convinced. "What?"

"Nothing." He sighs out, defeated, going back to the bathroom.

I exhale sharply and go to the door, about to open it but I stop and go to the bathroom, wrapping my arms around Duff's bare waist, resting my cheek against his back.

"I'm sorry for being rude or coming across as secretive. I appreciate you trying to be here for me and watch out for me but I'm not completely helpless, alright?" I ask him and he lets out a small breath and nods a little.

I kiss the skin of his back before saying, "I'll be right back," slipping out of the room door.

He thought I was going to hook up with Nikki, using "Doc needs to talk to me and Nikki" as an excuse...not that his worry lasted long after Nikki fessed up to what happened with the Sparkie ordeal when they went out that night.

As soon as I shut the door and turn around, I run smack dab into Fred, my heart stopping for a moment until I realize it's him and let out a sigh of relief.

He huffs out a breath and keeps walking.

"Is there any point in paying for a separate room for you if you're just gonna shack up with--"

"--Shh!" I scold him, yanking on his wrist to slow him down.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He mumbles. "Not that your moaning isn't a dead giveaway or anything."

"Very funny." I cut my eyes at him.

"It is being that I had to convince Nikki you were masterbating the other night." He replies.

"Who's to say I wasn't?" I ask smartly.

"There's a difference in 'I'm being fucked into oblivion' moans, and 'wow, I really am better by myself' moans." He shrugs.

Before I can argue, he's unlocking Doc's room and ushering me inside, where Nikki is waiting, an impatient look on his face, sunglasses covering his eyes.

"Where the fuck is Doc?" He groans out.

"Still at the E.R. because you put him there?" Fred tells him as if it's common sense.

"Wouldn't have happened if he would just back the fuck off." Nikki smacks his gum.

"You better hope he doesn't press charges." Fred points at him.

"If he does, Vivian won't have anything left when she drains me during divorce." Nikki pokes his lip out and I roll my jaw.

"Again, I don't want any of your money, Nikki."

"You're saying that now, but I bet $500.00 this time next year you'll be pleading spousal support or some other gold-digging bullshit."

"You don't have $500.00 to back up a bet--Mr. '$35,000 a week in heroin'."

"My belt is about to be going nothing to 35,000 on your ass if you don't shut the fuck up."

"Screw you!" I argue.

"That is if you can even get my prick hard--your fucking attitude's got me questioning if pussy's even fucking worth it anymore!"

"Hey!" Fred intercepts, plugging his ears to block our yelling.

"And now you've got Fred upset!" He motions to Fred.

"You have our entire team upset with your recklessness!" I accuse him.

"Oh, my recklessness?! You wanna talk about my recklessness?!" He barks out. "You're the one getting into fist fights with the opening band!"

"And you're the one fucking up Mötley Crüe!" I get it off my chest finally, and I can see the damage it's doing to Nikki's mind, despite his eyes being hidden, tension building in his jaw. "You know what, I'm not even gonna sit in here and wait for Doc." I tell Fred.

"Vivian, he needed to talk to you guys." Fred tells me.

"Thank Fuck." Nikki ignores him, stepping to the door.

"Nikki." Fred tries his luck with him.

"If this cunt wants to think I'm a piece of shit, she just needs to keep that mentality up because I'm tired of her 'I wanna get along but then turn on you like a fucking piranha' bullshit."

"I'm a piranha-cunt now? Thought I was an ugly gold digger." I sarcastically let out.

"And I thought marrying you was gonna be a good idea." He mercilessly hisses, looking at me directly. "Obviously shooting up for the first time was a better decision than ever letting you be more than the goodie-goodie church bitch I turned out purely out of boredom."

"Out!" Fred shoves at us, getting us to the door, tired of hearing it.

I'm the first out, hearing him pull Nikki back, scolding him for saying that to me, but I don't care.

Despite the tears in my eyes, his words don't bother me like they should...I hope my words didn't bother him too badly, either.

Once I get back to Duff's room, he's gone, and I'm left to crawl into bed and hope he doesn't stay angry at me for long, and pray Nikki doesn't either.

I said really messed up things to Nikki the months leading up to his overdose, things that I still apologize for to this day.

He was an asshole, he was abusive, he cheated, lied, made me feel crazy...but he was sick.

So, so sick--and I was, too, for tolerating it for so long.

Nonetheless, I knew he was down, and I just kicked his teeth in every chance I got.

A few days later, I step in to see Axl and Duff, sitting on the bed, talking but they abruptly stop when I lean against the door frame, making my presence known.

Duff clears his throat, blowing smoke from his cigarette past his lips.

"What're we talking about?" I ask them, raising my brows.

Neither of them reply, Axl standing up, sighing.

"Well, I'm gonna go see what the guys are gonna do after the show tonight, kinda in a going out mood." He grabs his sunglasses and heads for the door.

"What was that about?" I say to Duff once we're alone, sitting on the foot of the bed beside him, and he shakes his head a little, taking another drag of his cigarette.

He just stares down at the floor, thinking, and when he goes to take another inhale of his cigarette, I pluck it from his hand.

"What, are you breaking up with me already?" I ask him, nudging at his shoulder because he's been kind of distant the past few days, ever since he found out I didn't tell him about Sparkie.

"No." He mumbles, rubbing his forehead. "Nikki told me about Sparkie." He informs me and I let out a breath and lick my lips nervously.

"I get that you're not happy with me, Duff, but to be fair, I didn't tell anybody. The only reason Nikki knew about it is because Fred told him after he'd overheard it."

"And that's why I'm upset, Viv. Because you didn't tell anybody--you weren't gonna say anything until Fred said something for you."

"Because I didn't know what to say, Duff."

"'Sparkie's being inappropriate towards me', 'Sparkie's trying to get me to sleep with him and I'm uncomfortable' would have sufficed. I get you not telling everybody else because fear of them not believing you or not caring but I wouldn't have blown you off and I sure as hell would've believed you, Vivian." He states and my throat gets dry. "And maybe that's my fault because I fucked up somewhere along the line and gave you the impression that you couldn't trust me to believe you or give a shit about stuff like that or somethi--"

"--Duff, I've never thought that. I wanted to tell you."

"Then why didn't you?" He asks me, raising his brows and I exhale.

"He was telling me that he was gonna tell Nikki about us if I didn't 'give him a turn.' I got freaked out because I thought if I told anyone he'd really tell Nikki the truth and you guys would be off the tour, which is exactly what you guys are trying to avoid happening."

"If it came down to you being in trouble, and Guns staying on this tour and staying in everybody's good graces, then fuck Guns N' Roses." He tells me, sternly, and I let out another heavy breath. "And any of the guys would agree, alright? Even Axl. Us staying wouldn't be worth you sleeping with a piece of shit--sorry, being raped, because that's what it'd be." He corrects himself and I smile sadly, feeling bad for not talking to him about it. "Just talk to me, Vivian. Alright? You used to talk my ear off and tell me everything and now it's like you just don't tell me things."

"I know." I admit, handing him his cigarette back, and he discards it to the carpet, squashing the lit end with his boot to put it out before he pulls me to his lap, kissing my cheek before pressing his lips to mine, sweetly.

"I'm sorry for not being open with you." I tell him when we pull away.

"Sorry for being a dick and not trying to talk to you about it sooner." He replies and I brush blonde strands from his face.

"I'd rather you take a few days to collect your thoughts instead of screaming at me the moment it happens." I inform him. "Thank you for being so kind, and patient." I add. "I really appreciate it."

His lips tightly upward in a slight grin, before he kisses me again, wrapping me tightly in his arms, before he kisses my hair and holds me.

"I love you." He tells me.

"I love you, too." I say back, honestly, closing my eyes and savoring being so close to him, peace flooding throughout me, although short lived.

There's a bang at the door within a couple minutes, Duff and I getting up, and he steps to the door.

When he opens it, Fred barges in.

"Where the hell is your walkie?!" He's practically screaming at me and I furrow my brows.

"What?" I ask him, confused.

"Your fucking walkie, Vivian, you don't know how to fucking answer it?!" He narrows his eyes, furious, and I remember I accidentally left it in my room before going to Duff's.

"What's going on, what's up?" Duff asks him, slightly frantic and just as confused as I am.

"It's Nikki." Fred says to us, grabbing at my hand, tugging me out.

"What happened?" I ask him, feeling sick, my nerves bunching in my stomach.

We get to Nikki's room, the door cracked open, and when he pushes the door open I see Mick and Doc outside of Nikki's closet as Nikki screams incoherently as Doc tries to reason with him, and I furrow my brows, stepping behind Doc, looking in the direction he's looking in, seeing Nikki on the closet shelf with the light off, scrunched up, pale, sweating, shaking, wide-eyed, and I realize he's saying, "I want Viv."

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