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amphxtrite · 3 years

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pietro maximoff x fem! reader

warnings: being picked up, tooth-rotting fluff (literally)

summary: pietro goes on his first camping trip.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: thank you to @sweetandsunny for the writing prompts that helped me write this!! ly sunny <3

translations: printsessa- princess, krasivaya- beautiful, milashka- cutie, dorogoy- darling.

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“Finally Friday.” You yawn to yourself as you collapse onto your bed, after a long week of helping out the team and training, it was time to kick back, relax and-

“Hello Printsessa!”

Oh right, you smirk to yourself, peaking one eye open to see your speedster boyfriend standing at your doorway, a giddy smile on his face.

“Hey Piet.” You murmur, allowing yourself a small smirk as his eyes bounce back and forth from the spot in bed beside you and your eyes, subtly asking for permission.

“Oh alright, come here.” You giggle, opening your arms and immediately feeling Pietro’s body next to your and his arms around your torso.

A content sigh leaves his lips.

“Dorogoy, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He murmurs, closing his eyes and snuggling himself closer to your chest.

You smile to yourself and press a peck to Pietro’s blonde hair as fatigue takes over your form.

Now it was time to-

“Okay! If the clothes are off, put them back on, if the lips are locked, unlock them because dad’s here!” A voice suddenly yells, catching both you and Pietro off guard.

You yelp, and sit up suddenly to see your father covering his eyes and standing by the door he just kicked open.

“Ugh, open your eyes dad, we aren’t doing anything.” You groan, falling back down.

“Yes Clint, we were only sleeping!” Pietro chimes, suddenly across the room from you.

“Well it doesn’t matter, get your bag kid, we're going camping!” Clint cheers, throwing his fists in the air.

“And speedy can come too, why not.” Clint shrugs, causing Pietro’s eyes to widen. “I-I don’t want to intrude-”

“Dad, it’s Friday, we’ve been working all week, can’t we go another time?” You plead, finally sitting up.

“Sorry kiddo, but it’s Barton weekend number one, and your siblings and you agreed you would get the first weekend.” The archer smirks, looking at his daughter.

You glance at your calendar and sure enough the yearly event posted on the date was ‘weekend with dad.’

The little voice in your head cheers sarcastically.

“Fine, I’ll get packed.” You murmur, standing and grabbing your overnight bag from the floor.

“That’s the spirit!” Clint whoops.

“I should probably-”

Clint’s smile drops.

“Not so fast blondie, get your bags packed, you’re going.” Your father says sternly, patting the Avenger on the back on his way out of the room.

“You better listen, last time I told him no he didn’t make me waffles for six months.” You shudder.

Pietro’s jaw drops, “not the waffles.”

A blue blue went out and back into your room as Pietro returns with a bag slung over his shoulder and wearing clothes a little more suited for the wilderness.

You laugh and shake your head.

“Mind helping me Pietro?” You suggest.

“Of course, milashka.” He grins, pecking you on the forehead as he begins helping you, at a normal pace.

“So tell me again where we’re going, dad.” You question, readjusting your bag straps again as you walk further into the dense forest in front of you.

“A new spot I found while hiking the other day, great place to see the stars…” Your father responds, almost nervously.

“Oh no, I know that voice.” You groan, rolling your eyes as Pietro looks at you confused.

“What is it?” Sokovian asks.

“We’re lost.” You respond plainly, popping the ‘t.’

“We are not lost.” Clint sighs, moving his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“He brought us out here to die.” You shrug sarcastically.

“You brought us here to die?!” Pietro squeaks, misunderstanding the joke.

“Well, obviously.” Your dad jokes back, not knowing about Pietro’s state.

The platinum blonde man begins murmuring a silent prayer as you and your father continue to banter.

“Let future campers see us as a warning to halt before considering being active.” You sigh dramatically.

“Yes, and may they tell stories of us around the campfires and how great we were.” Clint continues.

Pietro’s brows were furrowed now, very confused by what was going on.

“I cannot tell if you two are being sarcastic or if we are really lost.” He mutters.

You look back over at your boyfriend and the look on his face was priceless, you begin bursting into a fit of laughter, your dad following shortly behind after he catches a glimpse of the mix of concern, fear and confusion slapped onto Pietro’s face

“O-Oh my gosh.” You laugh, placing your hand on Pietro’s arm. “You poor thing, you thought we were serious?” You coo, moving your hands up to Pietro’s cheeks as if he were the most innocent being alive. “Oh you’re adorable.”

“It’s a tradition for the kids, I gotta keep them on their toes.” Clint winks, patting Pietro on the back. “I almost had you this year.” The older Avenger sighs, placing his hand on your head and rustling your hair around.

“In your dreams old man, I saw it a mile away.” You smirk, rolling your eyes and joining your fingers with Pietro’s.

“Okay, okay. The site’s this way, come on.” Your father says, pointing in the direction you could hear rushing water from.

You nod and pull your boyfriend along beside you.

“You’ll get used to it Piet, my sibling’s and I were fooled every year until we started seeing the pattern.” You sigh, reminiscing in your memories of being scared to death as a kid.

“I can see why.” Pietro mutters, still slightly baffled at what had just happened.

Your lips pull even further up into a wide smile and you squeeze Pietro’s hand reassuringly.

“I’ll make sure dad doesn’t do that again, now hurry up, the sun’s setting and we haven’t even pitched our tent.” You laugh, pulling Pietro into a jog and catching up with your dad.

“That’ll do it.” Clint chuckles, stepping back and admiring his tent.

“Mines up too, dad!” You call, unzipping your tent and throwing your sleeping bag inside.

“How about you Pietro, how’s it-”

“Um, a little help?” A weak voice chimes from nearby.

You and your father turn around to see a mess of a tent behind you, beams sticking all over the place and a flustered Pietro standing in front of it, covering whatever he could.

“I-I’ve never been camping, I have only ever seen it on television.” He confesses, crossing his arms.

“Awe Pietro!” You coo, walking over to the pouting Sokovian and wrapping your arms around him.

“Here, hold this part up- Dad, you wanna get in on this?” You laugh.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Clint chuckles, jogging over and holding up the other half of Pietro’s tent as you begin feeding the thin pole through the thin material, with all three of you, the tent went up quickly and as you stood back to admire your work Pietro giddily runs up and scoops you into his arms.

“You are amazing, krasivaya! absolutely amazing!” He beams, spinning you in circles.

“Hey Piet! I’m getting dizzy!” You giggle, holding onto his shoulders and silently praying he’d never put you down.

“Alright you two, stop it before I throw up.” Your father sighs, rolling his eyes and throwing a marshmallow, managing to nail it right on your forehead.

To your dismay, Pietro places you back on the ground and takes your hand as he walks over to the small fire Clint had gotten started.

You sit on one of the chairs set up and accept a small stick and a marshmallow from your dad.

You smirk and stab the fluffy white treat onto the end of your twig and place it above the fire.

Pietro follows your lead and loses focus as the flames seem to swallow his marshmallow whole.

You skillfully pull your marshmallow out as it turns a perfect golden brown, but Pietro isn’t so lucky.

He lifts his stick from the fire to find a small bonfire on the end, and his marshmallow begins to burn.

“Oh- Pietro blow it out!” You rush.

“Right.” He squeals, taking a deep breath and ridding of the fire, leaving him with a charred blob.

“Aw it’s okay Pietro, you can just-.”

The blonde doesn’t let you finish and instead places the whole marshmallow into his mouth.

“-throw it into the fire…”

Pietro’s face contorts from neutral, to disgust, to glee in seconds. His eyebrows raise in surprise and his feet tap happily.

“It’s delicious! a little bitter at first but the rest is perfect!” Pietro muses, quickly snagging the bag of soft treats from your dad’s lap and sticking a bunch onto the end of his stick.

You smile at Pietro’s childlike glee and place your own marshmallow into your mouth, savouring the sweet crust and melts inside in your mouth as your boyfriend ate his like a sweet, sticky kebab.

The sky turns dark and you teach Pietro to make the perfect marshmallow, tell him scary stories and make shadow puppets with the fire’s light just like your dad would do with you when you were young. Clint had grown tired of your couple's antics quickly and retired to his tent earlier, leaving you and Pietro alone.

“Piet, you’ve still got bits of marshmallow on your face.” You laugh, wiping the remnants of sticky sugar out of his goatee and off his nose. Pietro looks down at you lovingly and notices a tiny bit of marshmallow on your bottom lip, without hesitation, his fingers move to your chin and he tilts your head up to let your eyes meet.

Leaning down, your lips meet in a sweet kiss. The taste of marshmallow and charcoal bring smiles to both of your faces as Pietro deepens the kiss. The fire crackles quietly beside you as Pietro’s hands move to your back to pull you closer. Your fingers find their way into his soft hair, tugging ever so gently.

You both part for breath, resting your foreheads together as you catch your breaths.

“You had some marshmallow on your lip, dorogoy.” Pietro smiles sheepishly.

“You don’t say?” You giggle, pressing kisses onto the edges of Pietro’s mouth.

There’s a moment of silence as the two of you bask in each other’s warmth, Pietro’s hands sliding up and down your arms and your fingers tangling themselves in his wavy locks.

“Thank you Printsessa, this has been one of the best nights of my life.” Pietro sighs with a grin.

“One of them?” You joke, leaning into your boyfriend’s chest.

“Oh tsvesti, do you think I’ll ever forget the night we first met? Or our first kiss?” Pietro fires back playfully, wrapping his arms around your tightly and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Okay, you got me Pie.” You sigh, cuddling closer into him.

“I know, zefir.” Pietro smirks.

“Wait, what does that one mean?” You ask, smiling at the new nickname.

“It means marshmallow, Printsessa. I think it’s very fitting for you.” He smiles, evidently very proud of himself.

You laugh lightly and nod.

“It’s perfect.”

#pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x y/n #pietro maximoff fluff #pietro maximoff fanfiction

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imaginationmess · 3 years

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Vengeance (Toji Fushiguro X Fem! Reader)

Toji Fushiguro X Fem! Reader

Mafia AU!

Genre: Angst

Warning: Gun Violence, blood/gore, multiple deaths, canon character death

Word Count: 1360

This is an overdue angst piece for @konoblog-simps server collab. Enjoy the angst train!

The loud clunk of the storage unit door slammed open only bounces back down to close from the amount of strength from pulling the heavy garage door. The dark, muscular, tall figure flicks the lights on. The room brightens to reveal numerous weapons from ninja stars, throwing knives to different sorts of gun machinery.

The eyes of this individual were void of emotion, but his aura that gave off was deadly. His clothes are covered in a dry substance that was uncomfortable to continue wearing, as he strips himself from those clothes. As he is pulling his head out of the shirt for his eyes to fall on an old photograph causing him to bite his bottom lip before turning away to continue what he is planning to do.

The photograph was taken months prior during his son Megumi's sixth birthday, where his son was being licked by their two puppies mixed-breed husky dogs, Shadow and White. The black dog, Shadow was energetic and playful compassing to their twin sister, White who was calmer and timid. His son was laughing and begging the dogs to stop, how much he wants to turn back time to those happy moments.

While he was gearing up and strapping numerous knives and guns to his body. He picks up the black duffle bag filled with machine guns. He takes a moment to look around to fall on a family photo which was taken years ago where his beloved wife stood beside him hugging his arm. He was holding their son on his hip and ticking the child to make the grumpy toddler smile for the photo. He was kissing his wife's head, causing his wife to smile brightly and staring at him dearly which he happily returned.

His small family was his pride and joy.

He was the happiest man in the world.

It was eventually, abruptly ripped away from him, literally ripping them away from his hands when he was far away from them to even protect them from harm’s way, more like his dark bloody past came back to haunt him.

He requested, however, more like ordering by the grumpy toddler to get his snacks from the store. His wife took that opportunity for him to go out on small grocery shopping.

“You have Megumi’s Scooby snack, and m-.”

The older man sighs and nods despite knowing she couldn’t see him. He unlocks the door of the old pickup truck and gets into place the grocery bags on the passenger side floor.

“Yes, I got everything on the list as requested. Don’t worry, your pretty little head. I know how to follow instructions.” He places the phone on speaker as he starts to drive home.

“Whatever you say, Toji. Megumi! No running inside the house!” Toji smiles at the imagery of Megumi running and you scold him. He stops when he hears the dog going wild barking until it goes completely quiet. It was unusual for dogs to bark in general.

“Hold on, Let me check on the dogs, they were going crazy ab-” There was a loud crash and screaming echoing through the home phone. As a response, Toji steps on the gas pedal to speed up going beyond the speed limit and cutting people off getting honked at as a result.

Toji shakes his head to get rid of the memory before reaching on the handles of the black duffle bag filled with weapons and takes the keys to his black motorcycle. He walks towards the door before coming back to the wall where his family portrait rips it off from the pushpin from the wall and slips it behind the bulletproof vest.

The scariest thing in the world was a man who has nothing to lose after losing everything he cares about.

As he was driving past the speed limit on his motorcycle, he could still feel his son's blood on his arms, barely conscious. He knew his son was not gonna make it seeing how much blood he had lost and how pale he was.

For the first time in his whole life, he felt so hopeless, and weak. The thing he could do was comfort him until he passed away joining his wife in the afterlife.

“Is Ma-Mama okay? Did I do good?” The small six-year-old coughs up blood as he speaks.

Toji looks to the side of him to see you lifeless and not breathing. He knows Megumi used the pistol seeing how close it was to his body and saw a man bleeding out a few feet away from them. Toji taught him behind his wife’s back in case of an emergency if he wasn’t there to protect them.

“She is gonna be okay. You did an amazing job protecting your mother. You are the bravest little boy I ever met. ” Toji was holding himself back from crying in front of him, but had to be strong for his kid.

“I am not li-little.” His son wheezed out. Toji chuckles softly as he continues to hold him in his arms not caring if his son's blood was soaking through his clothes and holding his hand that is so small in his large palm.

“You will always be our little blessing, Megumi.” He slowly rocks himself, as he sees Megumi's eyes closing. He is at least relieved at the thought that his little body numbs the worst pain that he could feel.

“I am sleepy.”

“Go to sleep, Megumi.” Toji presses a hard kiss on the dark blue-haired boy's forehead, letting him cry when he feels Megumi stop breathing. He was silently moaning over his family deaths, he was interrupted by a cough which caused him to freeze.

The assassin was still alive despite being shot numerous times by his son and his wife.

A sickening smile came across his face at the thought tormenting them for answers.

Nothing was holding him back from his inner demons, from being a father turning back to his dangerous, selfish, self who he was before he met the love of his life.

A dangerous, deadly assassin and gangster who was famously known as the Black Wolf of the Zenin Clan, who didn’t care about anything other than money. A man who has no soul nor heart.

If he did have a heart and soul, it has vanished in thin air after his dear family was murdered by his clan that he left on his own accord. He was refusing their offers of coming back because he wanted Megumi to have a normal life unlike his.

There was no amount of money in the world that would make him go back to that abusive hellhole.

The motorcycle crashes through the doors of the mansion, as he stands tall and takes out two machine guns.

“I AM HOME!” He announces loudly before letting out a fire of bullets, not caring who was caught in the crossfire.

He is gonna do what he should have done a long time ago.

Was to murder every single one of them that make his life living hell in the daily basics.

He should not have given them mercy back in the day. They do not deserve it.

The only image that was going through his mind was his wife and his son smiling brightly at him. The blood splattering was covering every surface that was within those walls of the Zenin Property.

They never learned to not mess with him after he declared. He was leaving this dangerous life behind. He granted their wish.

He is now home. Not as a father, but as the same monster they created and trained him to be.

The Black Wolf.

Bonus:

Breaking News: The famously known Shadow Mafia was massacre earlier this morning today. There was no survivor insight at the current moment. Over hundred fifty was found dead and still counting as they investigated through the property. From the camera footage of the residence, the culprit seems to be Fushiguro Toji, before dying from his injuries.

The news station reveals the man that is named the culprit. He was giving a smug smirk on his mug shot.

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

Thank you for reading!

Feel free to send in your request :D,

Comments/Reactions are greatly appreciated!

MASTERLIST!

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

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Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 8.4; Lantern Rite 3

X-Xiao...kissed me...? You still couldn't wrap your head around what just happened, even after he seemed to move on from the topic and sit back down on the viewing rock, his eyes casting a wonderous gaze at the lights that floated above the two of you. You were unaware that his and your eyes had flashed their signature glow when he placed a kiss between your brows, signaling the official sealing of your bond with the adeptus.

So it's sealed, Xiao made the conscious effort to keep his eyes on the lanterns while he thought to himself. Her pain should subside now. He could still hear the faint bustling of Liyue Harbor to the right of the cliff, and his lips twitched into a miniscule frown for a split second. I won't be able to hear her play music anymore. His gaze flit to you, still recuperating from his touch and a deep shade of crimson.

"Aren't you going to sit?" His words sliced through the silent air much like his blade.

"U-uh, yes!" You squeaked, putting a bit of space between your bodies in the process, mostly because of embarrassment. "So, um...the lanterns...do you like them?" Your fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

"They...are not half-bad," he begrudgingly admitted. When you sent him a glance, you noted the pink that painted the tips of his ears as he avoided looking your way.

"I'm glad I got to see you today," you smiled and returned your gaze to the sky. A comfortable silence befell you two, while the crickets began to sing and the fireflies assisted in lighting the hill alongside the lanterns. It was peaceful. Even after the lights of the lanterns dimmed and could no longer be seen in the air, the two of you sat overlooking the harbor.

"When will you be leaving?"

"At the end of the week, at the latest. We might be leaving tomorrow--er, I guess it's technically today now--but Childe hasn't said anything yet." You caught a glimpse of what you assumed to be dejection in his eyes, and tussled his hair.

"What are you doing? I'm not a child," he dodged you before your hand could mess his hair up even more. His eyes narrowed at you with suspicion, not quite knowing what you were getting at.

"You looked sad, so I thought I should cheer you up," you answered cheekily, much to his bemusement.

"I do not understand how patronizing me is supposed to 'cheer' me up," he watched your hand come up and run through his hair much gentler this time.

"I'd rather get you to banter with me than look like that." You had thought he would pull away again, but much to your surprise he held still--and even seemed to lean in slightly as if he enjoyed the gesture. "Can I play with your hair, Xiao?"

"Why bother asking when you're already doing it?" He half-complained before getting up and sitting in front of you so his back leaned against your shins and his head lay onto the spots above your knees. He made a show of false disinterest as per usual, but he ended his little charade with a slim smile as he looked up at your embarrassed expression.

He's never been this open, you struggled to comprehend his gestures while your hands re-embedded themselves in his locks. I’m blessed to see his smile. He watched you closely, observing the small waves of happiness, excitement, shock and embarrassment wash over your face. He observed the gentle nature in your eyes, and the content smile you'd return to him when you occasionally worked up the courage to meet his gaze halfway.

Eventually, you felt his shoulders relax and he allowed himself to put his full weight against you, his eyes hesitantly fluttering closed soon after. If a kiss to the eyelids was a sign of placing trust in one another, this had to be the ultimate display of trust coming from the adeptus. He never slept when you were adventuring with Aether--or at least, you never caught him batting an eye. Always said something like 'You have no respect for the ways of the adepti,' or 'Sleep is for mortals.'

And yet here you were, stuck between him and the rock you sat on, as his breathing turned slow and shallow, his face relaxing to that of a rare vulnerability of a long-lost innocence both of you thought he no longer had. It was clear he reveled in your touch as you traced circles along his scalp and lulled him to sleep with the soft familiar hum of your moonsong. Even after the lights of the stars were the only ones illuminating your dark surroundings, you continued to hold him.

The yaksha's dreams were light and fleeting, much like his natural agility in combat. Dreaming was rare, but when it happened, it seldom excluded the voices of bygone gods and wraiths. What was once an image of the human he came to love was now a void of indescribable darkness that loomed ever closer to his restrained soul. Threats of instilling terror, misfortune, and death upon you reached his ears, and the tension around his chest tightened until he found it difficult to breathe.

When he felt like he was drowning, being swallowed by the fear of losing you, hurting you, causing you pain--

You felt Xiao tense against you and peered down at him to find his eyebrows furrowed together and the corner of his lips twitching. Is he having a nightmare? You observed him for a moment, nearly jumping out of your skin when he--quite literally--began to growl much like an agitated animal. His eyes were still squeezed shut, albeit tighter than before, and his nails dug themselves into his skin like he was struggling to ground himself. The feral look on his face made your jaw tighten.

Once you recovered from having the daylights scared out of you, one of your hands left his hair and traced his temple in a circular motion. "It's okay, I'm here."

Xiao jolted awake, one of his hands shooting up to grab your wrist in a tight grip as if he had thought he was about to be attacked. His eyelids flew open just as quickly, his breathing an unsteady pant and his blurry vision finally coming to focus on the shadow of the concerned human that loomed over his body. His grip loosened when he realized it was you, and his thumb rubbed the spot where his nails had broken skin with a guilty look in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He had moved so quickly, you weren't even aware that he had scratched you. You rotated your hand so that you could hold his, giving him a reassuring smile when he squeezed back. His gaze hardened as he lifted his head and broke eye contact.

"It was nothing." He was wide awake now, not being able to bear another one of those stupid dreams. He didn't need that right now; he just wanted to bask in your presence and forget about his worries. But that intense fear of his selfishness bringing harm to you loomed at the back of his mind as he glanced over to you.

Can I really indulge in such humanistic behaviors and put you in danger?

"Xiao? What's wrong?" There was that look again; it wasn't his usual indifferent expression, but one that revealed a heavy burden of anxiety in the depths of his pupils.

Can I allow myself to be vulnerable with you, without a guilty conscience? Zhongli even said himself that you would be in danger of his karma even after the bond is sealed...So why did he do it? Why did he admit his feelings while knowing it would cause you pain in the long run? Did human emotions cause him to think irrationally and make a brash decision? Is that what they do?

"...Xiao?"

"Rise." The adeptus swallowed the heavy lump in his throat and wrapped an arm around you until the surrounding world warped unsteadily. The feeling nearly made you vomit, but just as quickly as the world spun, it stopped and your feet were on steady ground again.

"Huh?" You caught your bearings and took a moment to recognize your surroundings. The two of you were in a small bedroom, with the moonlight falling through the window. "Is this Wangshu Inn? I-I can't...Childe said I can't be here--"

"Humans need sleep to function properly. You can't sleep outside." He shot you a stern look when you opened your mouth to protest further, and you couldn't help but think he was trying to push you away again.

This time, he was doing it a bit differently.

"Where will you sleep?" You gestured around the small room that had only one bed.

"I have business to attend to. I'll be back by sunrise."

You took a deep breath and took the plunge. "You can't run away from your fears, Xiao." The yaksha froze, one of his eyebrows twitching in response. "That's what you're doing right now, isn't it?"

"Mortals do not understand the burdens adepti--" A raised brow got the words stuck in his throat. The bond is sealed, is it not? How can she see right through me?

"I asked you to trust me, Xiao. Don't burden yourself so much. I can take some of the weight off your shoulders; all you have to do is let me."

A human helping an adeptus with his burden? It shouldn't be that way. What could you even do for me? The weight on my shoulders would crush you. He wanted to mutter the words, but it was clear they would fall on deaf ears at the moment. He desperately wanted to disappear from the room for your own protection against his karmic debt, and he would've, but...I don't want to leave just yet.

The yaksha positioned himself so that he leaned against the door while you got under the fluffy covers that lay on the bed. It had to be two in the morning by now, surely, your human mind must be exhausted. He could go without sleep after that awful dream earlier...

"Xiao?" Your half-whisper travelled through the dark room. "Can you, um...Will you...Could you maybe lay next to me?"

It took a moment for your words to be processed. Join her in bed? Why? "I'm naturally inclined to stand watch. Go to sleep." A meek and disappointed 'okay' from the bed drew a reluctant sigh from his lips, but you had already drifted off. It didn’t take long for the air in the room to grow unusually cold, and the familiar groans accompanying your nightmares to be heard.

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

"I won't let you take him!" Your cry dropped the temperature of the throne room below zero, and your captor laughed at the pitiful display of power. Despite your show of bravado, you were trembling before her.

"I know what you've been thinking," the archon's lips spread into a thin, daring smile. "Heed my words, Mezzetin, you are still and always will be under my control." The amusement didn't reach her eyes.

"Stay away!" A warning shot of solid ice grazed the Tsaritsa's cheek, to which her eyes narrowed after recovering from what you assumed was shock. Shock that you actually touched her. "If you dare to touch him, I'll--"

"You'll what?" She tested with a raised brow, motioning for Scaramouche to bring out the messy gift of a bloodied, unconscious--or dead--yaksha. He threw him at your feet.

"No!"

Your eyelids shot open, nose inhaling a deep, slow breath when your consciousness returned to the room in Wangshu Inn. Light flooded through the windows and illuminated your surroundings, and you could hear the local wildlife singing in the tree branches directly outside the window.

It seems like you also had an unconscious fear eating away at you, just like Xiao. But something about that nightmare was off...why did she look at you like that? The shock on her face...Was that your unconscious view of her, or was it something more? Surely she couldn't have actually been in your dream. The mere idea of it sent a chill down your spine.

And what was with this qingxin flower-scented pillow? It was nice and toasty, and--Oh my gods, why is it moving?!

"X-Xiao?!" Your gaze dropped to your arms, which were wrapped tightly around his abdomen. Your head shot up only to hit his lower jaw, drawing groans from both of you. I'm cuddling him?! What the hell?!

"You wanted me here," he muttered shyly while rubbing the spot you had just collided with. "You weren't sleeping well."

"But...But I thought you declined!" Despite your obvious distress, your grip around him didn't loosen, and he didn't make it a goal to move, either. He tensed when you returned to your original spot with your face buried at the crook of his neck. Your disturbing dream was long-forgotten now that you had this to worry about.

"You're telling me you don't remember dragging me under the covers?"

"EH?!" Your face burned hot with embarrassment and you raised your head to look at him in horror. This time, your grip around him loosened. I sleep walk? I don’t remember ever having that habit. What else have I done?! "Did I really do that?"

"Hmph." The slightest twitch at the corner of his lips. He was laughing at you. Foolish. Of course you didn't.

"You're so mean!" You gawked and reburied your face once you caught onto his amusement, his arm hesitantly slinking across you in response. You'd never been so close to him before. It was difficult to calm yourself from being so up-close and personal with him so early in the morning; the way his toned stomach rose and fell as he breathed, his breath tickling your ear; how muscular his arm felt on top of you...Ooooh, this was too much to deal with after just waking up--Archons, what're you even thinking this early in the morning?!

Xiao thought it was odd how often your ears turned a bright shade of red, but he never brought it up. He had a feeling if he pointed it out you would just turn a deeper shade and evade giving a straight answer. Maybe Zhongli or Aether could help him understand this weird human display...

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

"Good morning, Zhongli! Aether! Paimon!" Your excited wave to the trio grabbed their attention as they walked through the main street of Liyue. "Sorry about, er, running away last night!"

"You're looking better," Paimon commented while a relieved Aether returned your greeting. "What's got your spirit up?"

"Hm?" Your fingers twitched. "Oh, uh, well..." You looked to Xiao for an easy getaway. "I found him, so..."

"I found you," the adeptus corrected, arms crossing across his chest as he avoided your gaze.

"Did you see the Mingxiao lantern? It exploded! It was so cool!" When you shook your head 'no,' Aether busily filled you in with graphic details of the largest plaustrite lantern in twenty years.

Xiao's avoiding eye contact, and you are brimming with happiness while sneaking glances at him...Zhongli observed you two extra carefully, taking note of every minute movement you were making. I see. The bond may or may not have sealed, but I am almost certain another event came to pass last night. These are the symptoms humans call 'afterglow,' are they not?

Zhongli cleared his throat and interrupted the animated conversation. "It is not a Liyue specialty, but why don't I treat you all to a meal of red bean rice?"

"Red bean rice? What's that?" Aether scrunched his eyebrows together when he didn’t recognize the name of the dish. It was a given he would be the one to pay for it all, so he was conditioned into automatically accepting the matter. It no longer surprised him that Zhongli would offer to pay despite lacking mora.

"Oh! Paimon knows this one!" The floating mascot hurriedly whirled around with stars in her eyes at the thought of food. "It's traditionally an Inazuman dish, but it is served on special occasions like weddings, birthdays, and--"

"What's the occasion?" It was your turn to send Zhongli a quizzical look, but Xiao looked disinterested in the conversation. "I don't remember any of our birthdays coming up, and we definitely don't have any weddings, either."

Zhongli thought it was the most obvious thing in the world, and he faced you with a straight expression. "In honor of your consummation, of course."

"WHAT?!" You nearly choked on nothing, while Aether and Paimon's jaws practically dropped to the floor. Today's morning air seemed to heat up quite a bit, aha...

"W-wait, Zhongli! You can't just blurt that out!" Paimon frantically waved her hands out in front of her. "People don't talk about that in public! It's inappro--"

"Wow, um," Aether awkwardly scratched the back of his head and released a nervous laugh. "This isn't really something I thought I'd have to hear about." He shyly averted his eyes to avoid your flabbergasted gawking.

"Wait! That's not...That didn't...!" You failed to blurt the words out as your cheeks heated up more and more. Oh boy, it was getting especially hot in the sun, wasn't it? "We didn't!" Your head whipped to Xiao, and you urged him on. "Say something!"

"I-is this true, Xiao?" Despite Aether's awkwardness, it was clear as day that he and Paimon just had to have confirmation to quell their disbelief and recover from the shock of Zhongli's bluntness. "Did you guys...?"

"We slept together, yes."

"XIAO!" Your shriek of horror caught the attention and annoyance of the strangers walking past the group as they were cleaning up from the Lantern Rite. Feeling all eyes on you, your shrunk in on yourself, face burning with even more embarrassment. The way he said it! Without so much as a smidge of hesitation! This humiliation was too much; honestly, you’d prefer if you could crawl into a hole and hide right now. "He didn't mean it like that!" You whisper-yelled at the trio, who all held smug, knowing expressions that weren’t too far off from that Albedo-fellow you met. "Will you stop?! We just slept next to each other, that's it! I swear!" You sent a slight glare in Xiao's direction.

"Oh-ho?" The all-too familiar sneer of a harbinger brought you a small sense of relief now that the attention shifted away from you. "That's it, ojou-chan?" Childe's cocky grin prompted you to roll your eyes. Finally, some color's returned to your cheeks. And that constant grimace of pain is absent, too...So their bond must be sealed; her Majesty will be pleased.

"Stay away from her! Aether!" Paimon gestured for the boy to pull his sword, and he did. Xiao simultaneously sidestepped ahead of you, his face distorting into a scowl. Zhongli, on the other hand remained still, his eyes the coldest you've ever seen.

"Relax. I'm not here to fight," Childe chided. He remained as relaxed and unconcerned as ever despite Aether pointing the edge of the blade at his throat. This man faced death with a smile-

"That's what you said last time, and you proceeded to attack us anyway," the traveler growled.

"That's in the past." Childe's eyes flit to Zhongli for a moment. Ah, so he still hasn't told them? Does the yaksha know, then? He caught the uneasy side glance Xiao gave his master. He does. This’ll be interesting. His gaze shifted to you. "You disobeyed orders last night, Mezzetin."

"Mezzetin?" Paimon's face twisted unhappily. "What kind of dumb pet name is that?"

"Step closer, and I'll use force," warned the yaksha, who didn't conjure his weapon to avoid the prying eyes of Liyue's citizens. Not that it would make a difference, anyway; people were already casting side glances at Aether's sword.

"No, you wouldn't. Not here," the harbinger called his bluff, and didn't remove his gaze from you. "So, I take it your time here was well-spent? Good. We'll be leaving tomorrow."

You took a half-step forward. "Tomorrow? But--"

"I'm afraid I have business to discuss with you," Zhongli finally broke his silence, and the atmosphere grew tense when Childe's gaze sharpened in response. "It may delay your leave."

"Oh? Whatever do you want to discuss with me, Mr. Zhongli?" The atmosphere grew heavier until it felt like the entire group was suffocating, Childe's icy smile sending chills down your spine. He wore his usual friendly façade, but that just made it all the more worrisome as his eyes were vacant and calculating.

"Uh-oh," Paimon squeaked, and disappeared.

"I'm sorry, dear friends, but I will have to take a rain check on our little celebration."

"We weren't even celebrating anything!" Heat rose to your cheeks until the archon sent you an admonishing look that told you it really wasn't the time for your chirps. He was practically emanating anger, hot and boiling to the point where you couldn't bear to stand there any longer. It was like being in a boiling pot of water.

"Come." Xiao snapped you out of your daze and encouraged you and Aether to follow him. "They have matters to discuss."

#genshin x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiao genshin impact #red bean rice #comic relief #lantern rite #xiao fluff #genshin fluff #genshin angst #xiao angst #fanfiction #xiao fanfiction #genshin fanfiction

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moonlightwritesdisney · 3 years

Text

DREAM COME TRUE. -- WYATT LYKENSEN.

Paring: Wyatt Lykensen X FEMALE! READER

Requested: Yes / No

Warnings: foul language. nudity. graphic descriptions of blood and cannibalism. sexual activity.

Summary: Weeks after your old elementary friend had finally vanished from all existence everything seems to finally go back to normal. Standing in a coffee shop you met him. And all hell breaks loose.

SEQUEL TO ‘YOU’.

PREVIOUSLY . . .

You were fashioned in the bathroom taking a warm cloth and bringing it towards your face wiping off the dried blood. You sucked in a breathe the sound of your beating heart filling your ears. You didn’t feel at all ashamed for what you had done. That bastard human deserved it.

The overbearing of your anxiety flared, you were worried you might get in huge trouble, since unfortunately, the human is never to blame. You had gone to bed that night in hopes for a better day the next morning -- the only problem was, he saw everything.

THE DIRT BELOW HIS BROWN BOOTS became sore while he had previously been peering into your small window for the past five minutes watching you. Your brown pale skin covered in the blood that wasn’t your own. Your face dry and lips cracked from the crying you had done, you felt numb. Your heat besting rapidly in anxiety.

The mirror reflected your bruised image. The bags under your eyes were a dark purple, your eyes a dark brown with widened pupils ( a side effect of a broken Z-band which usually wears off after twelve hours ). Your sink water turned a bright pink as the last of his blood washed down the drain. Disappearing into the drain pipes.

Your mascara smeared down your cheeks, your nose and cheeks red and your eyes puffy. ‘Your going to kill him’. A selfish voice spat in his head, his sharp claws dug into the untouched flesh of his tan palm. He was furious.

How could someone so shameful have the power of destroying someone who was so innocent? She was a ray of pure sunshine. His sunshine. The pondering question he already knew the answer to racked the Alpha wolf’s brain. He couldn’t understand it.

You were so innocent. Baby like. His baby. He felt guilt.

A page pant of sadness washed over him. He had wished it was him, who could comfort you from what had just happened. ‘Shh baby it’s okay I’m here now, your safe, completely safe, I won’t let anyone ever harm you again, ever, never again. I am so sorry.

So sorry. So sorry.’ He had imagined you sobbing desperately in his chest the ache of your body he felt against his own skin, he’d stroke your arm softly and whisper sweet nothing in your ear.

He’d reassure you constantly, be their for you when having to deal with the gained trauma even after the act. He’d give you anything you needed. Leave you loving encouraging notes in your belongings. Hold you every night as you slept. Lock every door and window in the house.

He’d lay bare with you in bed for hours just to make sure his babygirl was okay. Although he couldn’t help blame himself. He knew that he couldn’t just burst into your house and save you from your attacker, even after the matter.

‘oh uhm yeah, I’ve totally been watching you for months, that includes changing, and showering, and well... pleasing yourself too.

I’ve seen it all, and uhm I’m kinda in love with you too so I mean that’s a plus, uhm I know literally everything about you, how you are very persistent in organization and you hate cheesy romantic comedies.

How you’d just want to stay up until three a.m. reading a book about truce crime. How you can girl over the most underrated music artists and how you hate a guy that plays dumb in the most basic way. I know you absolutely hate roses anything I’m missing?’

He chuckled at the image of you stunned. He knew more about you than you knew yourself. How you’d jump into his arms, the feeling of your skin against his. Your soft lips brushing against his neck. He’d want it all.

That would immensely creep you out. His intention would to never make you uncomfortable. So the pain only grew worse. Not being able to call you by your name. Hold you. Take in the surreal beauty that was Y/N.

His white fangs pressed against his bottom teeth. His blood boiled to the brim. He wanted to make that disgusting human pay for what he did. His stomach twirled in mixed emotion.

He so badly wanted to hold you in his chest and comfort you, but some things have complicated consequences.

In the low midst of the night he kept a sharp eye on the human who groggily made his way down the deserted dirt road, stalking the weak being beneath the depths of the dark forest.

Small boots could be heard from miles stretched along the black canvas of the open air, the human male scanning his surroundings for some place to rest or.. a possible shortcut that could lead him home.

Wyatt licked his dry lips breathing out slowly watching the human stand in the clearing with curiosity. ‘Kill him’. ‘He deserves to suffer for what he did’. ‘Y/N’. ‘Think of Y/N’. ‘Gut him’.

The imploding thoughts trying to take control of him. His pupils shrunk and turned a bright yellow his fangs grew from the K-9’s in his mouth. He breathed heavily and beast like trying to regain his composure. Sure, he thought of you.

How you would’ve told him ‘this is dangerous and could get you caught by wolf patrol don’t’. But, the monster side of her would’ve agreed with him. Could’ve given into the impulses.

Could’ve joined in on the eccentric thrill of gutting a human to their bones watching as blood came spitting out of their body, falling limp to the ground and squirming like a dead rabbit, until their last breath leaves the closure of their lungs.

But he bit down on the inside of his cheek hard and shoved the impulsive thoughts aside. He caught attention of the human stepping through the clearing, Wyatt swiftly disappeared behind a tree. (Thank his wolf stealth.)

He watching closely behind the large oak as the midnight sky lit up with thousands of glowing stars the bright moon floating still. His feet crunched under the small wood chips and loose dirt, which made Wyatt’s right ear twitch occasionally.

The human was lost, he had reached up to a large clearing in the middle of the forest ‘maybe this will be a quicker way home’. He thought to himself as he squeezed his way through the thick pine trees that scratched his face and dark leather. Little did he know he wouldn’t be going home.

An owl called in the distance alarming the human. Shrugging it off he walked a few more feet bonfire stopping in the middle of the clearing an eerie feeling began to set it and shake throughout his body. Wyatt quickly ran behind the large oak tree causing the bushes to rustle.

The human quickly threw his head around to the source of the sound, Wyatt felt his heart pace quickly , quicker as each second passed.

The moonstone laid on Wyatt’s chest grew a bright blue his sharp K-9s’ growing to a slick point and his eyes glowing a bright deeming yellow.

A low growl erupted from his stomach the animalistic nature taking grasp of his human side. The human caught sight of a dark shadow peeking out from behind the tree. He bolted the other direction.

His breathing paced as his nimble legs carried him the south west end of the dark dreary forest. Mud crushed under his boots his lungs burning and heaving out of exhaustion. Wyatt was faster. He dodged past trees and bushes running at almost fifty miles.

His leg got caught on a sharp tree ranch nearby he knew that whatever was out to kill him was going to make it quick. He was scared. He pulled with force which caused the branch to cut into the soft flesh of his leg, blood seeped through the blue denim and into Wyatt’s nostrils.

Jumping over large rocks and the bushes he caught up to the human quickly grabbing him by his jacket he pushed to human to the ground and used the force of his arms to hold him in a pin.

The human breathed heavily his eyes widened in fear “please .... don’t hurt me”. He spoke weak like it was an excuse to let him go. Wyatt’s eyes glowed his lips formed a deep snarl.

“Let you go? And what, you continue raping other innocent women”. He whispered a deeply distorted voice replacing Wyatt’s usual calm manner. The monster had completely taken over. The human whimpered and squirmed like a dead animal.

A scream left the human’s mouth and soared above the trees as Wyatt bite deeply into the salty flesh. The blood was warm a large chunk of his skin hung off of Wyatt’s mouth before he spit it out discarding it.

The human grunted and moaned in pain shooting out lines of foul words. Wyatt smirked as he straddled the humans hips in place allowing him to not move.

In panic the human began to wail his arms, the young wolf felt his heart erupt in his chest. The watched as the human wailed in half death, he felt evincible.

The blood squirted and poured out of the human’s uncared wound. The blood tasted sweet in his mouth, a true delicacy.

About fifteen minutes after he threw the discarded bones into a six feet deep ditch he had dug after killing the human.

His mouth, arms, and clothes all drenched in the human’s bodily fluids and chunks of his flesh on his chest.

He smelt foul. He knew he did. He wanted to make sure you were okay but couldn’t come to you smelling like this.

He had walked the path he knew like the back of his hand spotting the small watering hole, he stood at the shore of the small lake the moon glowing brightly over him.

Taking off his fur coat he stripped himself of his purple hoodie before slowly bringing up his white tank top over his head revealing his broad v line, toned abs and chest stained with blood.

Unclasping his jeans he slide them down towards his knees kicking off his boots and white socks. Then came his boxers.

He engulfed himself in the lake slowly, it was freezing cold but was used to it. The water has risen up to the middle of his waist, he began to vigorously rub off the dried blood splashing cold water in his face and arms.

Dipping himself under the cold lake he rushed up and breathed out coughing. Moving his wet hair out of his face he caught sight of a dark shadowed figure that stood at the shore. He could’ve sworn it was you. Your pale skin glimmered beautifully under the moonlight.

He didn’t move a muscle, yet he waited to see what your next intention was. A robe you were wearing slowly feel to the ground as you now stood naked your gaze kept on his, you slowly entered the water.

Your figure made your way through the cold water, his eyes never leaving yours he was absolutely stunned. This had to be surreal.

Your hips moved in the water causing ripples to shift outwards, your brown eyes fluttered innocently. He stood in front of you awestricken, you were gorgeous.

He was scared that maybe if he had made one wrong move you’d leave, so there he stood motionless waiting for you to respond.

You were now in front of him, your naked glory he kept his eyes on you out of full curiosity. Your face inches away from his you guided his hands towards your side his warm arms wrapped securely around your waist.

The tension was lingering, his heart was pacing at an irregular pace questions swirling around in his mind but nonetheless, he wouldn’t change a thing.

The two of your lips met in pure bliss, moving in synchronization your fingernails traveling up the back of his neck and into his soft curls his hands gripping your hips lightly not wanting to hurt you without permission.

His lips trailed from your jaw and to your neck where he softly bite and sucked gaining small moans from you in response.

Heavy breathing and moans began to fall from your lips as he held you in his arms his nails digging into the sides of your hips causing you to squirm, the fingers of his right hand gently sliding over your folds.

Unfortunately for Wyatt, he awoke in a panic, his head was spinning and he was covered in blood. His brown eyes scanned his surroundings, the green trees a dim green and the woods ground wet and sloshy from the rain the night before.

It was a dream.

Fuck. It was a dream.

Shivers shot down his spine and throughout his body as he remembered the horny dream he had. God he wished it where real. He observed his clothing. He was drenched in blood. His whole body.

He pondered to himself in confusion then it clicked. After killing the human he had retreated back to the clearing and fell asleep after ... Waking up he knew aside from the perks of his wolf powers one downside was that wolves couldn’t remember events that happen after they detach from their human form.

He licked his chapped numb lips while his ears perked up, sirens could be heard from miles away, holy shit. The police had found his body. Quickly, he stood up and ran left towards large similar oaks trees, lucky for him he knew the woods so it was easy for him.

Suddenly while his head was turned behind him making sure he wasn’t seen he quickly looked forward and collided with anther body a loud grunt slipped passed his lips as he fell on the hard soil, groaning.

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

Sunkissed [Maxwell Lord x Reader] SMUT

Warnings: SMUT; foreplay, oral (m! receiving), spanking, slight exhibitionist kink, cum facial, rough, Maxwell is a subtle (?) asshole.

Word count: 3k

Rating: 18+ only.

Author's note: YACHT SMUT YACHT SMUT YACHT SMUT. This whole one shot is based off this gif alone. I wish we got to see more of Yacht!Max in the movie because wowww this was a look.

Masterlist

Today was the day.

A few months ago, your agent called you with an opportunity you just couldn't resist. You were new to the 'acting' world, having only scored gigs in a toothpaste commercial and a local theatre production. This was different though; your agent stating there was a spot available for an infomercial. You weren't sure what to think. You imagined it being for some boring historical or political campaign and scrunched your nose up in displeasure. Nevertheless, you needed the money and all the experience you could get, so you prepped and went to the audition.

You were surprised when the directions your agent gave you took you to Black Gold Cooperative. You waited in a small room amongst a dozen other girls, before the CEO, Maxwell Lord, came padding in, doting his famous television smile. He hummed in delight, looking around, his eyes flicking between each girl. He pursed his lips together but didn't say a word, before pointing a ring clad finger at you and wiggling it in the air. "You're hired!" he grinned, his voice rich and filled with vibrancy. You knotted your eyebrows together in bewilderment, wanting to say something, but he was already gone. The other girls sighed and huffed, slowly disbanding and leaving the room. You were the last to leave, hesitantly standing up and tugging on the arm of a woman who worked in the office.

"I got the part," you bit your lip nervously and the blonde woman nodded her head, listening carefully. "But I don't really know what for."

"Mr Lord is shooting a new infomercial to promote the company, to try and boost investments." the lady explained.

"But I didn't even audition." you replied, genuinely confused.

"Why would you need to audition? Mr Lord is the star of all his infomercials. All you have to do is sit there and look pretty," the woman in the pink pant suit looked down at her clipboard. "We don't start shooting until summer, but we'll mail you all the details closer to the time." And with that, she was whisked away. You stood there in the middle of the office, completely dumbfounded.

About a week ago, you had got the details just as she promised. You showed up at the harbour fifteen minutes early that morning with a small case full of clothes that would last you the weekend. That's what you were promised as payment for the infomercial. Not cash, but a weekend away on Maxwell Lord's five star private yacht. To be honest, you'd rather have the money, but you'd never been on a yacht before, so you were looking forward to the experience.

"Right!" the director called, pulling her headphones down around her neck. "Mr Lord won't be boarding until noon so… just do as you please until then, but try and not cause any havoc," you looked around. It was only you and four other girls who'd be starting alongside the businessman. "He'll be boarding from a different harbour so we'll be sailing out there in around fifteen minutes. I'd recommend you all get ready for shooting."

You felt isolated. It seemed like the four other girls were quick to befriend one another, giggling and chatting about everything and anything. You didn't usually consider yourself shy but they seemed so different to you. You felt like an outcast.

You sighed, entering the yacht and finding your cabin. You spent a few moments settling in and adjusting yourself to the room before remembering the director had advised you all to get dressed and ready for shooting. You looked outside the small round window and couldn't help but smile. It was a beautiful, hot Summer's day. You stripped out of your clothes and into a floral bikini you'd forked out and purchased especially for today. You did your best to style your hair, but figured it was pointless knowing the salty sea air would get to it anyway. You felt like you had forgotten to grab something, but shrug it off, heading back outside to the deck of the ship. The golden sun rays beamed onto your skin and it felt amazing. Deciding you had a few hours, you placed down a towel and lay on the floor to sunbathe. You could hear the faint laugher of the girls who must've been gossiping elsewhere on the yacht, but you were thankful for a few moments of relaxation before shooting began.

You fell asleep. You didn't know how long you were out for, but it was long enough. You woke up when a cool shadow loomed over you, cutting away the sun beams and sending a shiver down your body. You slowly fluttered your eyes open, them widening when you saw who was standing before you.

Maxwell Lord.

Shit, had you really been asleep that long? You groaned apologetically, sitting upright and hoping you weren't in trouble. Maxwell was doting a blue and white vertical pinstripe button down, the top three buttons undone showing just enough of his bronzed chest to create a weakness in the pit of your stomach. His hair was golden under the sunlight, and he sported a pair of gold rimmed sunglasses. Upon inspecting closer, they looked like limited edition RayBans. He didn't stay a word, just stared at your body hungrily, admiring the way it was spread out.

"I-" you started. "Have we- have we started shooting? Shit, did I sleep through it?" you asked nervously and Maxwell couldn't help but let out a chuckle.

"No, we start shooting in half an hour," he replied, shaking his head. Something about his presence still made you nervous. He sank to his knees, resting beside you and didn't tear his gaze from your body once. He placed his large, ring clad hand over your stomach. "Hot." he commented.

"Huh?" your eyes widened almost comically. Was he calling you hot? You shuddered under his touch, and it didn't go unnoticed by Max.

"Yeah, you're hot," his voice was gravelly and sensual as he began to trace his finger around your belly button, admiring the softness of your skin. "Quite literally burning up."

"Ohhhhh," you drawled out, feeling your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. For a second you thought he was coming onto you. And suddenly, you knew what he meant. You had fallen asleep under the sun for what might've been hours. It's not like you were going to be cold. "Oh right, yeah. I knew I forgot something. Sunscreen."

Max laughed light heartedly and it almost put you at ease, that is if you weren't already so nervous from his soft and delicate touches. "Don't fear," he smiled, dragging his fingers along your tummy. "Max is here." He pulled out a bottle of sunscreen from nowhere and presented you with it, a small and dorky 'ta-da!' escaping his lips. "May I?" he asked, slowly pushing you back down onto the towel that you were previously laying on.

It was hard to read his expression through the sunglasses, but you noted his quirked eyebrow and the wicked smirk that played across his lips.

"Okay." you affirmed with a reassuring smile. Maxwell pulled his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to read the back of the product he was holding. For a second, you caught a glimpse of his dark, chocolate coloured eyes.

"This lotion has biotin in it, makes you glow like a teenager. Great for when you're in front of a camera," Maxwell explained as you heard him click open the cap and squirt some of the product into his hands. "Let me do your back first."

You wasted no time, following his instruction and turning over. Maxwell spent a moment, admiring the way your body was shaped so beautifully. His eyes trailed from the nape of your neck, down the dip of your back and along the curve of your ass. Your swimsuit panties left very little to the imagination and Max could already feel himself getting turned on, his cock twitching as he began to rub the cream into your shoulders. You hummed at the pressure of both of his hands as he worked at you.

"You know, I remember you," his voice was friendly and approachable, so much so that it almost distracted you from what he was doing to you. "I remember you from all those months ago. I remember the way you stood out from the other girls. There was just something about you I couldn't put into words… but now I see it." he didn't describe what exactly he saw but you could feel the butterflies stir in your stomach at his compliment. "I mean, look at you. You have a body that will sell. And I mean that in the best way possible." you felt his fingers play with the string that kept your bikini together. "May I?" he asked again. "Want to make sure I get every piece of your skin." he murmured.

"Yes," you breathed out, a little too shakily. With a gentle tug, the string came undone and Maxwell continued to rub the lotion down your body, his large hands travelling to the small of your back.

"This ass too," he hummed, giving you a little spank. You gasped, tossing your head back in pleasure. "Oh I see, you like that, don't you?" he chuckled, smacking you again but this time a little harder. You moaned, your lips parting into a perfect 'o' shape. He spent a considerable amount of time rubbing the silky lotion into the curves of your ass cheeks before working himself down the backs of your legs and to your feet. "Turn around and let me get your front."

You eagerly did as you were told. You rolled over, forgetting your bikini top had been untied from the back and gasped slightly when the thin, colourful material exposed your breasts. Maxwell tsked, shaking his head. You used your hands to cover your chest as the straps fell down your arms. "Don't worry darling, you don't have to hide yourself in front of me." he chuckled, slowly peeling your hands away from your body. He pulled off your bikini top and threw it aimlessly to one side.

He took the bottle of sunscreen and squirted a little more into his hands, before smothering it all over your chest. He dipped his fingers into your collarbones and gently stroked down the valley of your breasts. He got your stomach again, rubbing in the cream and making sure not to miss a single inch of skin. You moaned wantonly as his fingers glided across the hem of your bikini panties, slipping in just under the waistband teasingly.

You reached out, grabbing a hold of his wrists and dragging them back up to your chest, placing each of his hands so they were cupping your breasts. He squirted some more lotion, this time straight on your tits, and started to massage it into your soft skin. He still looked composed, despite his hard and leaking manhood pressed against the confines of his cream coloured, fitted pants.

His thumb grazed the bud of your nipples, even occasionally pinching at them to see if he could gain a reaction out of you. You moaned wantonly, feeling your folds grow slick with arousal as he teased you. Maxwell positioned himself on top of you, leaning down and pressing sloppy kisses all over your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipple and sucking on it greedily.

"Mm, what if someone sees?" you managed to whimper out as Max pulled away from you with a 'pop'.

"Don't worry princess, they're all preoccupied elsewhere. But we don't have long until the shoot begins and oh… look what you've done to me." Max pressed his crotch against your thigh so you could feel the thick, hard imprint of his cock. "You're gonna have to take care of this, sweet girl." he muttered, unzipping his pants and freeing his aching manhood.

You gasped as you took in the size of him, subconsciously licking your lips greedily. Max rose to his feet, jerking himself off as he walked over to the metal bars that gated the edge of the yacht. He looked over into the ocean, slowly pumping his length with one hand and with his free hand, he pulled up his sunglasses so they were resting in his hair. He turned back to you and pointed a finger, curling it and gesturing for you to come over. You didn't stand up, instead, crawling towards him with a primal glint in your eyes. Max leaned against the cool bars as the wind gently breezed through his hair and you straightened yourself up. You stayed down on your knees as you gently pulled Maxwell's hand away from his dick.

You felt your mouth begin to water with anticipation as Max's hands fell into your hair. You ran your fingers down his cock to tease the CEO the best you could, knowing full well this might be the only time you'd be able to exert your dominance over someone as powerful as Maxwell Lord. Max grunted under your delicate touch, and began to subconsciously thrust himself into your hand.

Eventually, you leaned in to lick the tip of his cock. You found yourself lapping at his small slit which was leaking with his salty precum. Your small kitten licks earned groans of pleasure and praise from Maxwell as he quietly begged for more. Max's breathing got heavier and he started to exhale sharp sighs, everytime you swirled your tongue against the tip of his cock. You finally sunk your mouth down as deep as you could, and Max's breathing became shallow as he mewled a string of dirty curses.

You cupped his balls with your hands, playing with them as you deepthroated the businessman to the best of your ability. You ignored the way tears pricked your eyes and your saliva mixed with his precum dribbled down your chin. Max Lord always liked to take control, and he began to thrust his cock deep into your mouth. But as always, he craved more. He craved for something warmer and wetter. He ran his fingers through your hair and pulled your head away from his manhood so his cock bounced against your face.

"Stand up." he commanded and you did so with a wobble. He pulled you over to where he was standing and bent you over the side of the ship, pulling your bikini bottoms down quickly and roughly. He spanked you again, earning a pretty little wail of surprise.

You felt him line his cock up against your soaking wet folds as his tummy pressed into your ass. He rubbed the tip against your entrance teasingly until you were crying out his name and begging him to fuck you.

When he finally pushed his length into you, you couldn't help but scream. You gasped, your fingers curling around the metal bars so hard your knuckles turned white as he set up a brutal and rough page. His movements were unforgiving as he fucked you so hard and fast, your poor legs felt like they were going to give way. But he had you pinned against the barrier, and the way he mumbled sweet nothings and appraisal into your ear only spurred you on more. He told you how much of a good girl you were for taking his cock so well. He warned that if you kept screaming, you'd alert the filming crew. He'd tease you, nibbling and biting gently at the skin as he nestled his head into the crook of your neck.

"Gonna cum," you warned, your moans becoming erratic as he kept pushing into that perfect sweet spot inside of you. Your walls clenched around his cock tighter than a vice as you came. But he didn't stop fucking you. Your body ached as he used your pussy to bring himself to his own climax.

"Ngh— fuck!" Max cried out as he doubled back, pulling out of you and pushing you back down onto your knees. He jerked himself rapidly and you noted the way his cock throbbed in his hands. "Gonna make a mess off your pretty face." he chuckled darkly. "Mouth. Open."

You did as you were told, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out as Max's salty load roped into your mouth. At least— most of it got into your mouth. His eyes slammed shut and his cum sprayed onto your face and dripped down your chin and onto your chest. You couldn't believe how pent up he was. He slowly opened his eyes and gave you a small nod. You closed your mouth and swallowed his load with a hum of approval, licking your lips and fluttering your eyelashes.

"Five minutes until shooting!" you heard the director call and you gasped. Max smirked, taking a mental image of how sexy you looked with his cum splayed all over you.

"You better clean yourself up." Max laughed, taking your hand and helping you to your feet.

You were at a complete loss for words. Your hair was sticking to your skin from the sweat and your whole body was slippery with the sunscreen Max had applied earlier. Max grabbed the towel that you were once lying on and threw it in your direction. You noticed he had already tucked himself back into his pants, and, other than the few strands of dark blonde hair that had fallen out of place, he looked ready to go.

You wondered how often he did this. How often he fucked his employees on set before he shot important commercials or infomercials. There was something about his energy that thrilled you and filled your body with desire. He left you wanting more. And, knowing you'd be spending the whole weekend with him on this yacht, part of you figured this wouldn't be the last time he'd touch you like this.

Taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!)~

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #pedro pascal smut #ww84

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peterpan-ouat-imagines · 2 years

Text

Family?- Part 2

After moping for the proper amount of time I pull myself together and leave. It’s really dark out. I check my phone and it says 9pm but I have no calls or texts of my mom wondering where I am.

As I head back I hear a faint sound of a flute or something. Since no one cares where I am or I’ll get harassed the moment I step through the door once I go home, I follow it. The gentle sound gets louder and I see a fire in the distance. I walk over to it being cautious in case it’s something sketchy.

As I hide in the bushes. I see a guy a couple years older than me with brown hair and dressed in green leath- could this be? This is the description the shadow gave of the leader. This all feels too real and I need to get out of here. I try to be quiet as I walk away but there’s too many branches in the way and my hair gets tangled in several of them.

“Ah!” I huff anxiously trying to pull each piece apart, making myself free but it just gets more knotted up hurting my scalp. Between my huffs and feet crunching the leaves I could not be making more noise right now and there is no doubt he knows I’m here.

“Here. Let me help you,” a smooth English voice says from behind me. He grabs my hands and slowly puts them on my sides and starts untangling my hair for me.

After a couple minutes of my scalp being gently pulled it’s all free. I finger comb it feeling the strands unknotted. He knows I’m here at this point. I should probably just see if this is really what I think it is. I walk towards the fire where he was.

There’s a little bit of silence as we both stand there, “Are you who I think you are?” I finally ask.

“Yes, I am,” he tells me.

“The shadow told me you were young but I didn’t think he meant a teenager,” I say.

“What’s so wrong with that?” He asks.

“N-nothing. I’m sorry,” I say, “So your in Storybrooke? Is it because of my family?” I ask trying to avoid the fact he could want me to go with him to Neverland.

“We both know why I’m here,” he tells me.

“Yes,” I say almost instantaneously with desperation. He gave no context to his presence but I just know it’s to take me away.

He smirks. I look down sad.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“It’s just, the shadow said only the lost and unloved can hear the fiddle and from the entire town of Storybrooke I’m literally the only one here,” I sigh.

“Don’t worry, Neverland can be your new home. There’s so much to do and so many people like you.” He tells me.

I look down and see my mom calling me and huff and roll my eyes. 4 and a half hours after she gets off work and now she’s wondering where I am?

“I don’t want to sound annoying but can we please get out of here? If I have to be here any longer I might-” I stop not knowing what kind of negativity to use to explain how I feel. I drop my phone on the ground.

“Sure, hold on tight,” I grab his hand and he zooms in the air into a star. I can’t believe this is actually happening. I’m really going to live a life at a place meant for me. Where I’ll be included and wanted. As we enter the new realm I see a dark gloomy forest filled island surrounded by a dark murky sea.

“This is so cool!” I yell over the wind gusting on my face roughly.

We slowly land on the upper side of the island “Welcome to your new home y/n!” He smiles.

“I never got your name. What is it?” I ask.

He jumps off a log he’s standing on, “I’m Peter, Peter Pan,” he tells me stoically.

“Wells it’s nice to meet you, I haven’t formally introduced myself, I know you know my name but I’m y/n,” I say.

He smiles “I’ll show you to the compound,” he tells me. I follow him through the woods, moving branches back as I go, careful not to trip on anything and after what feels like a couple miles we arrive. It looks like a basic campsite nothing special. There’s a whole bunch of guys sitting around a giant fire.

“Where are all the girls?” I ask.

“Girls? I recruit lost boys. Your the first lost girl we have had,” he tells me. I feel a bit uneasy knowing this. The shadow never mentioned how there aren’t any girls. What if I’m taken advantage of? He even mentioned this chick Wendy to me! I can’t let myself seem paranoid on day one though so I should keep my mouth shut.

“Everyone, this is y/n,” he gestured for me to sit on a log which I do.

“I’m Adam,” the guy next to me smiles. I smile back softly.

I start talking to people and meeting them during the bonfire and some seem more intense than others but none seem as though they’ll use me or anything of the sorts.

“How long have you been on Neverland?” I ask Adam as we talk more.

“About 5 years,” he tells me.

“How was it like adjusting?” I ask. Goodness I sound like someone moving to a new school.

“Pretty weird being included and having people want to know me but in a good way,” he tells me and I feel relieved.

“How’s my newest lost girl doing?” Pan says coming over and squats down.

“Hey! I’m good. It’s nice getting to know others,” I tell him.

“Good. Come to my cave before you go to sleep I have something for you,” he tells me and walks away.

I look at Adam, “Is that normal?”

“I bet it’s just rules of the island and shit. All the newbies need to go over that information,” he tells me.

As the night comes to an end I go see Pan, “Patrick, where is Pan’s cave?”

“It’s across from his tent he does business in,” he tells me which is no help. I ask around more and finally get directions.

I knock on the rocky wall, “You wanted to talk?”

“Yes, I just wanted to go over some ground rules just so you know the dos and don’ts of neverland,” He explains and I nod.

“This is a pretty free place, in general there are no rules,” he starts going over said topic. He tells me places that are off limits like his Thinking Tree and skills I’ll need to learn but he really doesn’t give anything over the moon.

“This was helpful! As for sleeping, do I need a tent?”

“There is one already set up on the opposite side of the tent I take care of things in,” he tells me and I nod and head over there.

My tent looks big, it especially feels big but I don’t know if it’s because it actually is or I’m not crammed with 2 other people like everyone else. There’s already a sleeping bag and pillow which I get under. I’m too excited to go to sleep. My first night in a new land? How could I calm myself down.

I have this pressure point on the nape of my neck. Usually if I press it it helps to tire me out which I do because I have such a big day ahead of me.

I start getting more tired and fall asleep. I drift off into a dream that easily turns into a nightmare. Regina and Henry and everyone are so nice to me in it. I don’t feel attacked at all. But then this green smoke comes from all around and once it fades I’m treated how I was before. Everyone acting stuck up towards me like how they were before I left and only acting like their curse selves like before the curse broke.

I wake up in the morning feeling very uneasy and anxious from my subconscious thoughts that night but I don’t know anyone well enough to talk about it too.

I crawl out of the tent realizing I’m still in the same clothes as last night with nothing else to change into.

It feels odd walking out and immediately being greeted with fresh air and sounds of nature. I’ve never camped before but I could get used to this.

Everyone else slowly disperses from their tents and head to the forest which I follow. They are splitting up into different groups as they go separate ways and I tag along with Adam and Patrick.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“We are splitting into groups to find our meals for the next few days,” Adam shares.

“Wait, like hunting? I don’t know the first thing on that!” I tell them stressed.

“How about you sit back this one and just watch?” Patrick tells me.

“Patrick your literally 10 why do you know how to hunt that’s too dangerous for someone your age,” I tell him seriously.

“You need to know survival skills to be here,” They both stop and Patrick gets ready to throw the spear.

“I said no!” I tell him angry gripping it so he can’t hit the animal.

“Don’t worry I only injure myself doing this like once a week I got this,” he tells me calmly.

“NO!” I pull it from his hand and hand it to Adam, “You do it,”

“But y/n, he’s done it plenty before,” Adam defends Patrick. I glare at Adam and he nods, “Okay,” Adam focuses as all is silent except for the crumpling of leaves by said boar. Adam chucks it and it hits the boar in the stomach.

The three of us carry it back, me in the middle where it’s heaviest. It’s super heavy but I need to do my part on the island to help out even if it requires all my strength.

I see Pan after dropping the hog and before anything else I walk up to him, “Pan, we need to talk,” I state deadpan.

I lead him somewhere privately in the woods and I just stare at him deadly.

“What is it?” he asks.

“How could you let Patrick hunt?” I ask him.

“It’s a rule of Neverland, everyone must be able to hunt and fight,” he tells me.

“He’s 10! There’s some kids here that look as young as 8! They could get hurt, Patrick even told me how often he gets hurt!” I exclaim.

“Why does this matter? You just met him, why do you care so much?” he asks as if it’s stupid.

“I care because hunting is NOT safe for boys that young! This isn’t my place to say because I just got here but clearly he isn’t trained well enough if he’s constantly hurting himself,” I explain.

“It’s just some cuts and none of them mind,” he tells me as if it’s nothing.

“It’s wrong!” I exclaim.

“You’re wrong for thinking you can just tell me how I should be running my island,” he states.

“Look I’m sorry. I know saying that is overstepping. But please think about their wellbeing. Some of these boys are still children. I’m gonna go back now,” I rejoin the group as they start picking at the cooked meat and red berries and colorful fruit.

“Hey y/n, do you want a tour of the island after we eat?” Jay asks me.

I’m about to perk up and say yes because I’m actually being included but Pan pops in behind me, “I’ll show her around,” he tells him and I’m scared I got myself in trouble from our conversation.

We all finish eating and go walk around in private. He shows me different places, mermaid lagoon which is a lot more grungy than I thought, also the dark jungle and explains how it’s the most exhilarating part of the island but I don’t think I’d ever want to step foot in that monstrosity he explained, even how each part of the island has certain cardinal directions, like north south east etc. We start to walk on the beach.

“I want to teach you to fight and hunt,” he tells me.

“I literally just got here, should I really be doing that stuff yet?” I ask.

“Yes, it is necessary, what if you were alone right now and a pirate came? You couldn’t defend yourself and would be taken hostage,” he points out.

“I see your point but like, I haven’t done that stuff before,” I explain.

“I’ll give an example, pick up that stick,” he orders which I do and so does he. He comes behind me and puts his hand on mine and raises my hand so my arm is higher up “There you go,”

“Now hit mine,” he tells me. I hit it softly.

“Like you mean it, take the anger from being neglected all these years and channel it while fighting me,” he tells me and I nod.

I go again and think of each moment I’ve been left out or ignored or verbally abused and hit his stick very hard.

“There you go, now again, and keep going,” he says.

I hit harder and he hits back. We keep going back and forth at a steady pace and he starts getting more aggressive. Which I try to do too. I try to think of all the years of Henry being the favorite thinking of Jack bullying me and worst of all Henry making it clear we aren’t siblings which gives me so much anger and aggression to put into the fight. He swings his stick at me and I lean back trying to dodge it and fall.

He drops what he is holding and runs to me, “Y/n!” he kneels down overly concerned, “Are you okay?” he asks. I nod.

He has me sit down and I find it weird how much my fall matters but I don’t question it. Maybe it’s a thing of me being a girl? Maybe it’s because I’m new here? I don’t complain either way.

We stay and talk until I do not feel dizzy anymore. We start to head back, “Thanks for the lesson today and the tour,” I smile softly.

“Of course,” he says.

In all honesty between super young kids hunting with injuries, nightmares for the first time in ages, and being forced to learn to fight… this life seems more extreme than I was hoping for.

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sleepyowlwrites · 2 years

Text

find the word tag CCXXXXIV

I had a sudden hankering to watch either a mission impossible movie or star trek next gen, but since there were two options, I watched neither. typical me. little snow hats from @drippingmoon and @akindofmagictoo

spine ( you, of bone, and I, of bitterness, 2020) [of course it had to be this.]

your spine links all your bones closer the more I strain them apart and there is not a one that could be separated except, perhaps, by the visceral decapitation of an inward part the sinew from the skeleton, the muscle from the mainframe your essence is elegant in its demise and I admit even in defeat you maintain your strength from older days

wink (summon story supplemental - moonink you like grimes right?)

Grimes still couldn’t portray emotion but she could color her words nicely. “You moth-headed moldwarp, what did I just say about power? Even though you might be able to design the array perfectly, a Shidha is more than capable of tricking you into letting it out of it. And I’m not stupid enough to get us both in trouble by trying it.” She shook her head again, the bones of her neck sliding back and forth. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

Shae spat her annoyance onto the summoning array and it winked out of existence. “You don’t.”

“Ah, you got me, right down to my bones,” Grimes howled before leaping back up to the roof. “Be careful, or that’s all you’ll have, too.”

growl (summon story d0 - I know the grammar of the first sentence doesn't seem to make sense, but it does in the story)

Wryn showed up looking far too pleased with themselves for somebody who were drenched in ibsin blood.

Zan dropped the log he’d just placed against his arm, not because he was afraid but just out distraction. He took in the entire sight of Wryn, their dark shirt dripping with a purple substance. Literally, it was dripping, and the drops made the dead grass beside Wryn’s feet sizzle a little when they fell. “How does your passenger not have a problem with this?”

Wryn grinned even wider, their skin purpling with the effort and distorting out of shape on their hands. “We have no loyalties,” they said in a coarse growl, the “s” elongating into an unnatural hiss. “We not not seek to kill, but we do not mind it. Even each other.”

torch (the sleepy stash)

You saw my mangled edges and caressed my deep wounds You saw the outlines in shadow and drew me a halo You held me up against the sky like a torch in the night and I was quiet

active (beating hearts, 2021)

“He’s still able to shiver, that’s good.” Wu Xie pulls out heat packs and strips the plastic off of them. Liu Sang holds onto them while remembering and forgetting and remembering to shake them active. “Will you hold onto this tight while Xiaoge carries you?”

Liu Sang is not a child. He can follow instructions. “Yes,” he says, before his brain takes its time figuring out the other implications of that question. He’s being pulled onto Zhang Qiling’s back by the time he catches up with it. “No, I can walk!”

He means to say it loudly, in protest, but his voice is all hoarse and his teeth are chattering again, so it sounds more like a quiet, “No, I- c’n walk…”

“Of course you can,” Pangzi says, rather placating. “But this will be faster.”

“I don’ like it,” Liu Sang tries to explain, very unhappy about the tightness at the base of his throat. He can’t quite swallow it away, so he has to just let the tears creep up the inside of his mouth. “Feels bad.”

“You’re safe,” his ouxiang says, the first time he’s spoken since they reunited and it shuts Liu Sang up in a good way.

break (the sleepy stash)

Look inside again, look deeper still Where flowers bloom on staircase rails Where curtains draw at break of dawn Where hands are fixed and faces drawn My house was burning But my home stands strong

chain link (space dust, 2021)

link our limbs to the creatures of the outside the monsters who share our fate and tremble in the starlight if we swallow our fear we can find our path through the galaxies and further still inside the overpass

keep you, keep you, keep you in my pocket, keep you by my side hold you, hold you, hold you close to my heart, always in my mind take it, take it, take it all the way back to our first night breathe in, breathe in, breathe in all the oxygen so we won't survive

we'll turn to space dust and float around together we'll mean nothing as we study the great black void we can shine, we can go up in flames, we'll shatter we are stars, we are a supernova, we are the silent noise

daylight (summon story d0)

The jolt he felt yanking him back to reality came suddenly with a frenzied energy that reformed him. He became a self, he regained his body just in time for something to split his being in half, then casually sew it back together with no anesthetic. Zan had felt less pain when Wryn had slit his throat. The world of fog and blood and emptiness drained away like darkness before daylight and he could feel more than the pain. There were cold stones under his back, a clot of something disgusting lodged under his tongue. He could breathe- his heart beat, his ribs ached. Zan was alive.

He opened the eyes he once again possessed to find the people he was starting to think were not actually his friends looking down at him with not nearly the right amount of pity. Zan glared, the action pulling at his skin like a rope burn.

"The first time is the worst," Wryn said without a trace of an apology.

in the words of Erin, Shidha, Wryn. lonely, wrecked, monday, knives, easy. BONUS: smoke, mirror. @spacetimewraithwrites @selene-stories @uraniumwriting @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @diphthongsfordays @yejidoesthings OR ANYBODY or nobody

#find the word tag #tag game #searching circle

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ktheist · 3 years

Text

04 — show me yours & i’ll show you mine | m

➙ muses. seokjin x college student / gamer!reader ft. best friend! taehyung

➙ genre. best friend’s brother au. university au. working au. fwb au.

➙ word. 2.9k

➙ warnings. angst

➙ index. 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | finale | side story 1 |

➙ warnings. explicit content. smut.

➙ synopsis.

“you wanna say goodbye?”

“yes, i would love to say goodbye.”

one second, you’re exiled from taehyung’s room and the next, you’re under lockdown in the same exact room you were forbidden to enter.

the boy who always made a fuss about cleaning up - cleans up his mess without a single complaint. you thought he’d come knocking on the (his) door and ask for your help but after an hour of twiddling your thumbs and swaying your feet in the air, kim taehyung finally walks in with beads of sweat on his forehead and that ugly stain of a vomit on his shirt.

he pulls it over his head and tosses it into the laundry before pulling a fresh mickey mouse printed shirt and slips into bed. the temptation to text jeongguk or hoseok or jimin to pick you up has never been stronger but you bite the inside of your cheek, lay out the futon and turn off the lights.

“good night, tae.” you say into the darkness, not expecting for an answer.

“why did you do it?” the darkness whispers back.

“it just happened,” you know better than to offer half-baked excuses for something you completely intended and would even pursue if you didn’t get caught in the middle.

when silence lapses into the room, you thought the matter done and buried six feet under you and taehyung’s conscience.

not the first time you’ve been wrong.

“why seokjin? why not me?” his lips brush yours, tasting like heartbreak and missing the part where he’s supposed to be drunk and out of his mind for even daring to get so close to you.

to let his hair brush against your forehead. to let his hand snake down your thigh with feather light touches until he’s an inch away from grabbing your ass. if he dared try, your kick wouldn’t be aimed at the air to which he moves it away and places that hand next to your head, boxing you under him completely.

“ew, what the fuck?” and despite the trapped-between-a-rock-and-a-hard-place situation, you manage to lean as far away as you can. or so you’d like to think, but you can still feel his breath fanning your neck.

you wish you have an owl’s ability to twist its neck all the way to the back.

“you’re my best friend, taehyung! get off!” you feel like a child hitting her father with her tiny little fist. taehyung doesn’t even flinch when it hits his chest.

but he pulls away anyway, standing on his knees over you within a lull in time before he falls back on his butt in the space between your parted calves. the wrist of his hand that’s propped against the floor brushes against the side of your foot.

“do you get it now? we grew up together,” his voice echoes into the dark, “my brothers are your brothers- that- what you did- that was messed up, ___.”

“so? was creeping up on me like that necessary?” you retort, pushing yourself up and hearing the thud pillow you vehemently hurled at the silhouette of the man hunched over a couple feet away from you, “you perv!”

“how much do you like seokjin?” he asks, trapping the pillow in his lap, under his elbow, but before you can even say anything, he shoots you another string of question, “do you even like him?”

“stop making it sound like i’m the bad guy,” you huff, “as if your brother’s such a saint. he wanted it just as much.”

“i don’t care who wants it more, fuck’s sake,” he says roughly, “all your past relationships have only been sexual.”

holding up one hand, you find your shadow cloaked fingers much more nails, “your point being?”

“don’t you stop to think about how much things’ll change? how awkward it’ll be at family dinners once you finally got tired of each other? how awkward it’ll be for me?”

“oh, because everything’s about you, isn’t it?” you roll your eyes yet your stomach churns.

only silence hangs over the darkness as your teeth sink into the soft flesh of your bottom lip. taehyung pushes himself out and marches out of the room whilst you stay rooted in your spot, curled into a ball with your legs against your chest.

when morning comes, you’re awaken to the sound of taehyung padding around with a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping off his hair and trickling down his chest, “there’s no one if the bathroom, if you wanna wash up.”

it’s the only exchange you have in the morning and throughout the drive to your uni until taehyung parks the car in the spot somewhere near your faculty.

“i thought about it,” you finally say, breaking the silence. the way he turns to you in your periphery makes you want to shrink into the seat and crawl away like an ant but you shrug instead, “what you said last night - i thought about it... you’re right, you guys are the closest family i have here. and i don’t wanna ruin that just cause i can’t keep it in my pants.”

the soft hum of the music fills the space between you, making the unspoken truth a bit more bearable than a pin-drop silence. taehyung’s hair sways for the briefest moment as he arches his brows in contemplation before unsmiling lips curl into that signature box smile, “really?”

“yes, really,” you roll your eyes, “one dick wasn’t worth losing my best friend over.”

“i’d hug you but i’m still having withdrawals from what i saw last night,” tahyung’s face scrunches in disgust.

“oh so that’s what it takes to get your sleazy hands off me. by the way seokjin-” trickles of laughter escapes your mouth as you hop out of his car, managing to avoid his swatting hand just in time, “bye! thanks for the ride!”

the mindless banters between you and taehyung never cease, if anything, it goes from playing rock-paper-scissors to decide where to eat to googling up and showing each other pictures of poisonous shrooms in case you get lost in the woods for more than 36 hours.

you used to have lunch together every other day, but taehyung comes to you for a continuous three day, hitting four days streak in between classes this week. each time bearing that boyish grin that could fool just about anyone when it comes to picked-up pieces of a broken heart.

“she texted me,” he shrugs, twirling his chopsticks in the bowl of cold noodles and letting the silence hang stale without any hint of providing more information until you nudge it out of him.

“i didn’t text back.” he says it as if it’s the easiest thing to do.

“it’s so easy for you boys, huh?” you don’t know where in the deities greenland he got the narrowing of your eyes and the scrunching of your nose as-

“seokjin didn’t text you?” the titled smile of his tempts you to smack it off his face right that instance.

“how- wha- that literally has nothing to do with your bitch ass ex-girlfriend who were talking about though?” kim taehyung doesn’t offer any response, only the sway of his shoulders as he laughs before digging into the sweet, savory noodles in front of him.

it’s only after you’ve returned to your faculty, fast-walking towards your lecture, that you find out the subject matter himself sitting hunched over on one of the benches laid out along the roofless pathway that leads to your faculty. the jaws of the girls and gays that happen to be standing a few feet away, drops at the way seokjin looks up, eyes squinting at the sudden intrusion of the sunlight before his lips curl into a smile.

“hey,” there’s that smile you miss so bad.

it turns out seokjin’s little shit of a brother and your ass of a best friend snuck into his room, flashed a light over his face, bypassed his phone’s lock and deleted your number, blocked you on snapchat and unfollowed you on instagram.

“and here i thought you were done with me,” your jaw would have hung loose if you don’t have the tip of your venti mocha swirl keeping your lips together as you stare at the pavement, walking aimlessly with seokjin down the path of rose beds.

“i took the day off, decided to try my luck, and hope you’d see me at waiting for you awkwardly - everyone probably thinks ‘who the hell is this old ass guy hanging around-’“ his words get cut off by your gasp as you feel your face hurting from the way your lips are almost reaching your ears.

“you did?” shoulders sagging, you press a hand to your chest where you heart flutters with a sort of warmth, “for me?” before holding your arms out in an invitation for a hug and retracting them not even a second later, “no wait- i promised tae i wouldn’t do this.”

somewhere along the lines, you find yourself at the sky rose garden because the pathway you found him at, all of a sudden, becomes a runway for the girls and gays. they pass you in a guise of walking by whilst their eyes linger on his broad chest and pants that hug his thighs and the protrusion of his natural size that wasn’t going to get smaller than that.

“what he doesn’t know won’t kill him- or us,” there it is again, the melodic hymn of a chuckle as he opens his arms for you, the action ever so natural, as if he’s done this a couple of million times.

and just like that, you fall into his embrace, cheek mushing against his chest as you inhale the familiar scent of mint seaside and the faintest scent of woody earth. you find it unfair that his heart beats steadily whilst yours thrash in your chest. maybe that’s the cause of your cheeks heating up.

“i can do it, you know?” his voice vibrates against your ears in a honeyed tingles, “i can use my ‘big bro influence’ and get him off our backs.”

you lift your head, breath stuttering at the sight of star glinted eyes gazing down at you with the gentles smiles, “should you?” but you shake your head a second later, “no, he’d hate me forever - he’ll know i put you up to this because you’re too nice. you’d ne-”

a finger under your chin and a tilt of your head and you’re lost in an ocean of galaxy, “i brought up the idea, if anyone’s gonna get in hot water, it’s gonna be me.”

“that’s not what taehyung’s gonna think,” the recollection of your conversation with the aforementioned man floods your mind and almost as if an invisible current wraps around your body, you find yourself taking a step back in surrender.

“and he’s right, seokjin,” the way his eyes flash with a sort of emotion - one that you can’t pinpoint, let alone interpret the meaning of - doesn’t go unnoticed by you yet you go on, “this has to stop. once the passion simmers down and we get bored of each other, what do you think is gonna happen?”

but the words that hits the air is like frostbites to your warm, beating heart, “you already have it in your mind that we’re gonna break up.”

it takes you a second to clear your throat, another to gather your thoughts, “relationships like ours always end with a break up.”

galaxies are littered with illuminating stars but you’re a fool to have turned a blind eye to its dark side. and seokjin’s stars have dimmed, leaving only a trail of shadow in those clouded eyes.

but the half-hearted smile that curls on his lips appears like a ray of sunlight on a cloudy day, “do you wanna at least goodbye?”

your eyes follow his that trail down to the noticeable bulge in his pants.

“yes,” you beam, “i would love to say goodbye.”

the cars and the scenic view of the highway pass by in a blur, not that you’re in a position to stare out the window like a heartbroken woman whose fiancee set out for way.

“slow down,” there’s a desperate plea in his voice, “i don’t want to cum too early.”

the stern, warning look he shoots you is makes you giggle. what with his flushed face and twitching self in your hand.

how adorable.

“but you taste so good, jinnie,” your tongue sweeps past your lips, licking the pre-cum off his oozing tip.

“keep teasing me like that if you want me to pull up and fuck you on the side of the road,” the threat on his tongue sends tingles down your spine.

eyes glinting, you can basically hear the blatant disregard in his voice when he first asked if you’d climb up in his lap while he was hitting the back of your throat after you’d quickly scurried into his car for the last goodbye.

so you take it slow, licking him down his length as his hand settle on your head, caressing your hair.

the door closes behind you as seokjin pushes you against it, his hand on your cheek as he crashes his lips against yours and your hand reaching under his boxers. it looked almost painful as he zipped up his pants before getting out of the car and walking the distance between the parking spot and the apartment.

you distinctly remember the sight of a blanket on the couch and an opened laptop on the coffee table, the red of the cans of energy drinks laying around on the ground and surface of said coffee table - they only ever try to clean up when they know you’re coming for your weekly stay over.

but who are you to judge when your clothes soon join the cans on the floor, forming trails down the hallway.

by the time your body lightly bounces on top of seokjin’s bed, you feel the cold air brush against your skin whilst he stands over you like a beast drinking in the sight of the prey he’ll devour. but you don’t mind if that allows you to admire the beautiful landscape of tight abs and powerful physique.

a sort of dread washes over you at the thought of such length coming close to the apex of your legs. taking him in your mouth was doable but only because you’ve had enough practice to know how to adapt to certain lengths by steadying your breath. but you’ve had enough experience to know you wouldn’t just be able to get use to his size right off the bat.

and he’s the biggest you’ve ever met.

your hand runs over the ridges of his muscles biceps before they twine together over the nape of his neck. it must have been the way you look at him, the yearning that pours through gaze and beckons him like a siren’s song.

the spot of the bed a few inches from your head dips as he props himself on his forearms, lips marking your skin as his.

“seokjin- ah!” you should already used to the bold caress of his tongue around your nipple.

your control is devastated, your thighs are quivering and seokjin’s touches have enthralled you in a fierce flare of yearning.

“ah,” you breathe out, gaze unfocusing as pleasure and discomfort flood from your core while he deliberately stretches you out.

his hand returns to the side of your face as he stays inside you, lets you feel him, take him for what he is whilst he kisses your cheekbone, your jawline and burry his face in your neck.

your breath stutters as you feel him slide out of you, heart beat stammering for the briefest moment when his tip kisses your entrance before he pushes himself in deeper than before.

but you know you haven’t taken all of him in.

not yet.

“you’re stretching me out so good,” you say barely above whisper.

“not even half is in, baby,” is all he says before you feel the muscles in his back flexing as he shifts most of his weight onto his hands, thrusting deeper into you.

“fuck,” you moan, the discomfort fading away as pleasure surge through your body in waves as your arms wrap around seokjin’s neck, face buried in his shoulder until you don’t know where he starts and where he ends.

lost in wicked delight, your fuzzed mind barely registers the sound of your phone despite its blares a few inches above your head where you remember tossing to before slipping out of your jeans and succumbing to the reckless savage lust that neither you nor seokjin should speak about to a single soul.

“pick it up,” the man’s husked voice drums in your ear clearer only because of the cease of ripples of pleasures as he stills.

“wha-” you don’t say much, groping around for your phone before shooting him a pleading look of ‘can’t this wait till after you give me the greatest orgasm of my lifetime?’

“it’s taehyung,” the name that spills out of your mouth strikes guilt into your beating heart.

“hm? you’re tightening up. is it because of my little brother?” the surge of possession in his voice tempers with your sanity, it drips like sweet honey rose and mars your skin with its thorns, “answer the call.”

note. ooof ig yall know what next chapter’s gonna be. maybe.

taglist. @aretha170 @scalubera @ambersaesthetics @heyjiminnie @hyuck-me @fanfuckingfic

#bts scenarios #seokjin scenarios #seokjin fic #bts fic #bts x you #seokjin x you #seokjin smut #bts smut #seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #seokjin x reader #bts x reader #bts au #bts fluff #seokjin fluff #jin smut #jin scenarios

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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

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Dar - Rogue, Chapter 16| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: Din frantically searches to find you, but will all be well when he reaches you?

Warnings: Swearing, angst, injury/blood, drowning, mentions of dead bodies, Ltt me know if i forgot anything!

Word Count: 3.8k+

AN: Oh, dear.

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey @what-iwish-you-knew @queenofthefaceless @rosiefridayrogersunday-reads @greeneyedblondie44 @itsnottilly @welcometothepedroverse

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44

Gif by: @jesuiscalmedammit

Mando’a translation: Dar - No longer

Din couldn’t feel his feet.

Or his hands.

There was a thick layer of frost over his armour that crackled every time he moved, giving him the feeling of being encased in a walking, icy tomb.

Of course, if he couldn’t find you and the kids, that’s what his life would come to.

A yawning, bleak nothingness that was darker than his life had ever been. For now, he knew what he had to lose.

He had turned the whole of the Razor Crest apart, pausing to put out the fires now and then before continuing his manic search.

Every single inch, every nook and hidey hole and compartment – even the crates.

Nothing.

You had vanished like the ghost that people had dubbed you when trying to hunt you.

But he had still found you. Why couldn’t he do it again?

He’d managed to get out of the Crest, by climbing out through the doors which were stuck shut. The engines in the ship had died and all the power went out in the crash.

Which had only made him more confused about how the hell you had gotten out – and why.

Din knew you wouldn’t have abandoned them, but he had a horrible feeling that you didn’t leave the ship by choice.

Something had taken you. He knew it by instinct.

And his instinct was rarely wrong.

~~~

He had been walking for days – at least that’s what it felt like.

Din didn’t stop, only briefly when his body begged him to.

He couldn’t afford to stop really, not even for a second.

As soon as it became dark, he used the light on his helmet, but after one incident of nearly tumbling headfirst into an icy crevasse, he knew he would have to wait out the night.

How could he save you if he was lying in the bottom of a ditch with a broken neck?

The second the first streaks of sunlight peered weakly through the clouds; he was moving.

As he walked, he couldn’t help but reminisce of moments you had shared together, from the first time you’d met, all the way until now. Not always significant things, they could sometimes be just flashes, small details that his mind and heart had clung onto.

The way he had instantly thought you looked beautiful when you fought, even if you had been striking out to kill him on Sorgan.

The sharp bite of your words, or the crooning silk of them when you teased him.

The musical twinkle of your laughter filling the quiet atmosphere of this ship, beautiful and infectious.

The scent of you floating through the cockpit, sneaking up under his helmet and making his head spin and his heart flip over.

The ‘fresher always smelt of your soap after you’d been in there, some natural, flowery bar you’d bought from a market and now stayed firmly lodged in his senses.

The way your lips held a natural pout when you slept, as if taunting him. More than once he had to physically remove himself from your presence, before he yanked off his helmet and felt for himself if your lips were as soft as they looked.

The gentle tone you took with Grogu, even when you were scolding him for eating something he shouldn’t, like your fruit or your hair.

Your hair… the feel of it slipping through his fingers like water. Even if it were tangled, or thwapping in your eyes, it was still gorgeous, and he ached to brush it back and braid it out of the way for you.

He didn’t even know how to braid.

Din swallowed, feeling tears threaten the backs of his eyes.

He just couldn’t lose you.

You meant more to him that he could ever admit.

And he never even got to tell you how he really felt. Never got to tell you the things that kept him awake at night, the words that threatened to spill from his lips every time you smiled or laughed with him – but usually at him.

Never got to reveal his true face.

You had shot into his life and exploded like the fierce brilliance of a star, bathing him in light and something extraordinary that he had never realised he’d been missing.

You drove him insane, made him terrified with your reckless abandon, to the point where he thought he might have an aneurysm.

But more than that… you were a constant that he needed.

Sure, he had the kid, but this was different.

With you, he didn’t have to pretend. He didn’t need to keep up the acts of Mandalorian, hunter, fugitive, protector, father.

He could just be… Din.

And telling you his name… Yes, he’d felt nervous, thought his heart might escape out of his throat but… he wanted to. It felt right, to give you something.

And now he might lose you without ever being able to tell you that he lo-

He was broken from his thoughts rather suddenly as his boot caught something and he went tumbling face first into the snow.

Which was hard, and felt… human?

Easing his numb limbs up, Din moved to a crouch to examine what he had ungracefully stumbled over.

His gloves were already soaked, so he made no haste in clearing away the thick, white powder until he revealed something shiny and hard, as white as the landscape.

Armour, layered over soaked black fabric…

Stormtrooper.

A very, very dead Stormtrooper.

Quickly, Din cleared the rest of the snow, and he sobbed out loud when he saw the cause of his death.

An arrow to the throat, which was unmistakably yours with the matte black and gold filigree design

You’d been here.

And you’d fought well, naturally.

He didn’t need to search the rest of the snow to know that there would be more bodies here, that was a waste of time.

Now he just had to find you.

There was a chance you may have been hurt, but the ever-falling precipitation and frigid air would have long since covered any tracks.

Din quickly scanned the trees, but there were no signs of the codes you had both established one night, should you ever be separated and need to find each other without drawing attention.

He was this close to you, literally holding a piece of you in his hands, and yet… he had no idea where to look.

When it came to you, everything he knew how to do often turned upside down.

Frantic anxiety crept along his spine as he rose to his feet, clutching the arrow and he ran a hand over the top of his head, an anxious gesture that would normally involve him running his fingers through his hair and tugging at it to try and make his brain kick into gear.

He was a hunter. A Mandalorian.

So why couldn’t he just hunt?

Doubt and frustration were just beginning to pull him into the depths of a breakdown, when he felt it.

A lick of power along the back of his neck, caressing gently and then disappearing again.

Din went rigid, his heart giving one thud and then seeming to go still as well, like it would help him concentrate better.

He hadn’t imagined it, had he?

Even the snow seemed to stop, everything pausing in anticipation.

The power crept along his shoulders, down his back and roamed over his chest. It slid down his arms and circled his hands, and for a single moment, he swore he could feel fingers laced through his own, tugging his hand gently the same way you did when you saw something pretty or you were in a market.

“I’m here. This way.” It seemed to whisper, “Come and find me…”

Din ran, not even hesitating as he felt the pull.

It was similar to the other night, when he first felt your power. It had that same tug, the same urgency.

Admittedly, there was something wrong with it, it felt… darker. It didn’t carry the same irresistible light that glowed from your very soul and chased away his shadows.

But it had to be you.

He didn’t know anyone else who could do that, apart from the kid and he didn’t know where Grogu was.

Besides, he wasn’t strong enough to do that.

It was you. He knew it was.

As he ran, he put it down to the trauma of being trapped out here, and maybe the fact you were grievously injured.

Maybe even dying.

That unwelcome thought had him moving even faster, following the call and caress of power as it led him across the icy plain, along a slushy river to the base of the largest glacier on the horizon.

The river opened up into a huge, solid lake, glittering with frost and hiding all manners of dark creatures in the murky, frigid depths.

Din bolted around a boulder, and what he saw nearly made his knees buckle in relief.

There you were.

You were alive.

Standing in the centre of the lake, feet planted firmly on the ground, crying as you saw him. You were whispering his name; he could see the way your lips moved and formed the one syllable.

Din had tears of relief on his own cheeks, and he ran a few steps onto the ice when his brain finally caught up and processed the scene.

Something wasn’t right.

You were crying, yes… But you were shaking your head, desperately, as if begging him... not to approach?

Why would you be begging him?

He looked at you properly for the first time.

You were standing oddly, arms behind you and the tension in your body looked like you were being held against your will.

But there was nothing there.

Which only one thing.

“Mando! Finally decided to join the show, did you?”

That fucking voice.

Rich and smooth, dripping like honey with none of the sweetness to match. It only left a bitter taste of copper and blood.

Din turned his head, hand already yanking his pulse rifle from his back and aiming it at Haran before his head even finished turning. “Let her fucking go.”

Haran was leaning against a boulder, one leg crossed over the other with his hands in his pockets. He chuckled, infuriatingly casual, “I’ve just been explaining to your princess here, that this is my game. My rules, my decisions. You are the pawns in my game, and I will move you as I see fit. It’s only just begun, and it is far from over.”

Din snarled softly, raising his hand more, “I don’t care whether you’re playing a game, or having a fucking tea party. Let her go. Now.” He walked further forward, his rifle unwavering and locked onto Haran.

Haran lifted a hand from his pocket, waggling his finger, “Nu-uh. Make one more move and...” He looked over at you, smiling sweetly and his finger just lightly twitched.

A sudden cry, your cry echoed across the air.

The sound of your pain wrenched through Din’s chest, as his head snapped to you and he made a soft noise of horror as he saw the wound that Haran had clearly just probed.

There was a circle of fabric singed and burned away, revealing angry, shining flesh beneath. By the edges of it, it looked almost cauterised... but still awful and blistered; a wound made by a weapon Din had never seen before.

His arm wavered, hearing you stifle your cries of pain, but you looked so pale, seemingly exhausted from the past few days.

And yet, despite the injuries, despite the terrible situation, that fire in your eyes still blazed. It was the untamed fire of a wolf, someone used to being on the edge again and again, and still fighting their way out.

A survivor.

You gazed back at him and your eyes roved over him, taking in every single inch of him, checking for wounds and anything obvious that would show hurt.

You couldn’t see his face, so you wouldn’t be able to see the tears that had frozen on his cheeks. You wouldn’t see the way he was panting, or the way his heart pounded against his ribs.

Normally, this situation would have been nothing to him, something he’d experienced multiple times. A stand off by a bounty who had nothing to lose.

But this was different.

Everything with you was different.

Even though you gave him a strength he never knew he had, you also scared the absolute life out of him. He had nightmares about this kind of situation, nightmares where he wasn’t fast enough to save you and you died in his arms.

He couldn’t let that happen again.

Haran’s voice flowed out again, purring, “You feel it don’t you? The fear… the terror of being faced with a choice. Knowing that in minutes, maybe even seconds, it’ll no longer be me holding her life. It’ll be you. You will be responsible for how your day ends. Embracing each other, alive and safe. Or clutching her dead body to you as you try to figure out just how you failed her.”

A wave of anger rolled through Din, edged with fear and revulsion at the joy in Haran’s voice. “You’re sick, you know that?”

Haran laughed again, rising to stand straight and he walked to the edge of the frozen lake, his black garb standing out starkly against the snowy white surroundings. “I’m not sick, Mandalorian. I just see the world clearly.”

He motioned toward you, “As I also explained to your darling princess - Everyone preaches that they will always sacrifice themselves for the one they love. That it would never be a choice to choose between a stranger, or their amour. But… they lie. When it comes down to it… They always choose wrong.”

He began to walk up and down the edge of the lake, with fluid movements that highlighted the fact that… he just wasn’t human. He couldn’t be.

“Now, of course, I know that if I presented you with saving your own life, or hers, you would choose hers. And she would beg me to save yours, and on and on it would go and be terribly boring.” He paused, stopping and looking between Din and you with a blissful grin, “So, I’ve decided to make it a little more fun.”

You moaned low, a noise of horror and you shook you head, tears forming in your eyes, “Please… Please don’t.”

Din’s blood began to turn even colder, “What are you talking about?” He spoke with fierce demand that didn’t match the turmoil inside.

Haran just smiled a pretty smile, “I’m going to make it harder for you.” He extended an elegant, gloved hand toward you, “Your beloved… or…” He turned his head toward Din, waving his hand again and suddenly, a small bundle flew through the air and he caught it.

Grogu.

He held up the Child, gripping him by the back of his tunic that Din had painstakingly made for him out of fabrics he salvaged from the ship. “Your sweet little child.”

Grogu whined, trying to move but it seemed that Haran had him gripped with the same power that was trapping you.

Din couldn’t breathe, couldn’t comprehend what was happening. There was no choice here. How could he possibly choose?

He swallowed, looking between his Child that he risked his life for, defected, became a fugitive… or the girl that he had been harbouring such love and deep affection for since the night he had nearly lost his life in the alley way.

There was no choice here.

He would save the pair of you, even if he had to die.

The wheels in his brain started turning, spinning over and calculating multiple strategies, how to best save you both with the least amount of harm.

He ran a mental check of his weapons. He had a few Whistling Birds left, his beskar spear, pulse rifle and a knife.

Sure, Haran had those Force powers, but Din was fast… and he had no mercy when those he loved were in danger.

A delicate snort of laughter broke his reverie, and he shifted his attention back to the terrifying legend come to life, “Oh, Mando, please don’t embarrass yourself. I know you think you have the upper hand, but maybe you’ve forgotten that I simply will tear them both apart without blinking. I need your beau, yes, but I’m not afraid to break her first. It’ll only make my job easier.” He grinned, as he were discussing how cold it was, not the fates of his family. “You have to choose, Mandalorian. I don’t have all day. Even monsters like me get cold.” He winked, his scar pulling tight his eyelid for a second.

Din rolled his shoulders, adjusting his grip on his blaster, “You truly think you can do this do us? You are nothing. A monster who delights in hurting people. I’m not listening to you-“

Haran sighed, an over the top, dramatic sigh, “Stars above, I’m bored of this now.” He hauled Grogu up higher, yanking the tube free from his belt and he activated his lightsaber, holding it close to Grogu’s little throat. “For every minute you keep me waiting, I will burn your little baby here. He’s only small, so I’d say you don’t have long. And then, if you’re still keeping me waiting, I’ll do the same to your princess over there, looking all pretty on the ice.”

The gold light bounced off Gorgu’s skin, dangerously close and the little creature whimpered.

For a moment, Din struggled to keep his cool.

There was a sudden flash in his mind, of himself crying over both yours and Grogu’s dead bodies. Because he was too slow, too late and too cocky.

He swallowed back the rising panic clawing up his throat and shook his head a little.

Tears were rolling down your cheeks now, and you turned your head to look at Haran, body still restricted tightly against your will, “Please, please don’t do this. I take it back. I’ll stay with you, or you can kill me. Just don’t hurt him.” You struggled pointlessly against the bonds, trying to send your own power out but Haran had suffocated you.

Din shook his head harder, fiercely, and he was just about to tell you exactly why that would not be happening, when he caught movement above Haran.

His helmet was already turned toward Haran, so he wouldn’t notice the way Din was now searching the boulder above his shoulder.

He could have sworn he saw something, just a flicker-

There.

He did.

A pair of small, glossy black eyes. The very tips of big pointy ears attached to a round head that was barely poking above the top of the boulder.

Suddenly, Din knew exactly how this was going to play out, and what he had to do.

Be the distraction, until he could run and save you.

“Why? Why do I need to choose? What could you possibly gain out of making me decide?” He didn’t risk moving, wanting to keep Haran’s attention focused on himself without letting Grogu be hurt.

Haran rolled his eyes, “You tell me I’m a heartless monster, and then you ask me why I’m doing this?” He looked over at you, “I thought he was supposed to be smart? Tell me there’s something else good going for him besides hunting people.”

You snarled at him, eyes practically spitting fire even though they were glossy with tears, “You should see what he can do with his hands.”

That’s my girl.

Din could have cried at the fact you were still snarking despite the rapidly spiralling situation.

Haran blinked at you for a moment, something unreadable in his eyes before his lips curled up into a wicked smirk, “Oh, I have. Your mind is a lovely little place.” He dropped you another wink and then looked at Grogu, bringing his saber dangerously close agin, “You two have been the centre of my games for far longer than you realise. And this won’t be the last time we meet, believe me. I have much, much bigger plans to set in motion, that will make you wish – Aaah!”

His words were cut off with an uncharacteristic cry of pain as Duru sprang from the top of the boulder, sinking her wickedly sharp claws straight into Haran’s head. She hissed at him, swiping her paws over his forehead and eyes, opening deep cuts that immediately pooled blood.

“Get the fuck off me!” Haran clawed at her, and his effort to dislodge her, he dropped Grogu, becoming more preoccupied with saving his eyes than holding the little baby hostage.

As soon as he landed in the snow, Duru leapt down next to him, biting the back of his tunic and streaking across the snow toward Din. Her head was nearly the same size as Grogu’s entire body, so she had no trouble hauling him to safety.

A frantic laugh bubbled into Din’s throat, but he quelled it fast, because Haran had stopped spinning and wiping the blood from his eyes.

He looked up, his hair sticking out wildly, and with the streaks of blood running down his face, his bared teeth and furious eyes, he truly looked every bit the madman he was believed to be, “You think you can beat me? That I will be taken down by a pest?” He laughed, but this laugh wasn’t silken, or seductive. It was off-kilter, manic and oh-so twisted.

Din turned to you, quickly whilst Haran was laughing, “Sweetheart, run-“

Haran stopped laughing, “Oh, Mando. It’s you that needs to run.” His hand emerged from behind his cloak, and then he suddenly shot at the ice surrounding your feet, multiple blows in rapid succession.

The entire lake rumbled, fissures snaking across the surface like lightning bolts.

With each new appearance, the ice cracked, a deep, echoing noise that Din felt in his bones.

Thousands of splinters appeared around the holes at your feet, exploding across the surface of the lake quicker than taking a breath.

For a few moments, everything seemed suspended as time grew limitless.

Din could count every single squeeze of his heart, could feel every ragged breath dragging in and out of his lungs.

He could see each snowflake that danced in the air, their unique beauty a stark contrast to what was happening.

He saw Haran’s grinning, bloodied face disappearing behind the boulder, making his escape.

Din heard Grogu’s piercing cry of fear, and the noise shattered the haze of time and everything seemed to snap into fast-forward.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t comprehend what was happening, even though he screamed at his feet to move, to run, to save you-

You barely had time to hold out your hand, for your lips to just form The Mandalorian’s name…

And then the ice gave way into the fathomless depths.

And you were gone.

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#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #rogue #the mandalorian #din djarin #Pedro Pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal

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thebigqueer · 3 years

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"Growth" - Piper McLean & Jason Grace - One-Shot

Summary: Jason & Piper share a moment together as her birthday comes to a close

Note: WOOOO HAPPY BIRTHDAY PIPER ILY and also this is purely platonic

Word Count: 1979

Read on AO3

A cool draft of night air pours over Piper, and she hugs her arms closer to her body in an attempt to block out the cold. It’s awfully chilly for a June night, but she doesn’t mind; she prefers the crispy air anyway. It’s liberating.

The black sky spills like ink overhead; twinkling stars poke white holes into the mesmerizing darkness. A gleaming white moon spills over Piper like a spotlight, and her eyes sparkle under the beautiful night.

She sighs contentedly and pulls her knees to her chest. These are her favorite moments - the ones on the roof of her house, with nothing but the empty, dark sky before her and the cold for company.

She’s comfortable in her skin here. She’s herself.

It’s a nice change from the eventful night she’s had. She and her friends have been celebrating her birthday all day, first by spending a day out in the city, and then throwing an eventful party at her house during the evening. Her body aches with a happy exhaustion, and her mind still buzzes with the music that pulsed just hours ago.

But as much as she’s loved today - especially after seeing most of the Argo II group - an urge has been humming in her head since the evening. An urge to just be alone, to slip away.

Now most of her friends are asleep inside the house, and finally, after hours of laughing and celebrating, hours of smiles and stretched enthusiasm, Piper can throw off her mask and let herself deflate.

The midnight sky embraces her. Its cool, comforting arms wrap around Piper and accompany her in her solitude. The shadowed trees dance under the moonlight as another brush of wind sweeps through the clearing before her.

Piper leans her chin against her knees and allows a soft, quiet smile to slip over her mouth. A feverish and excited warmth blooms under her cheeks as she gazes ahead into the night, its darkness full of possibilities for the future.

She’s so lost into the silence, so consumed into the solitude, that she barely notices when a large thud rumbles behind her. It’s only when a warm arm brushes against that she realizes she isn’t alone.

Anxiety beats in Piper’s heart at the brush of contact. She reaches for a dagger by her side as fear courses through her. What if it’s a monster? What if someone’s here to steal her?

The look of surprise and terror in her eyes must be pretty amusing, because when she finally meets the gaze of her intruder, a warm, familiar laugh falls over her.

“It’s just me,” says Jason. “No need to get jumpy.”

A groan of relief escapes Piper’s chest and she scoffs, turning her gaze back to the scene before her. The prior calmness that floated over her has completely dissipated and she frowns in frustration. “Geez,” she mutters. “Can’t you be a little more quiet?”

“If I was quieter I’m sure I would have made you accidentally fall from the roof,” responds Jason. He gestures to the empty spot beside her and raises an apprehensive eyebrow. “Do you mind if I sit?”

Despite her annoyance, a small smile quirks over Piper’s lips. Usually she’d be angry if someone came to interrupt her alone time, but knowing that it’s Jason, she’ll allow his intrusion. She scoots over and nods. “Have a seat, Sparky.”

Jason’s body thuds softly against the roof as he sets himself down. His long legs dangle next to hers, and against the next gust of wind, both their feet sway like wind chimes.

Piper watches Jason closely, a suspicious line drawing itself over her mouth. Her eyes travel over his physical being, searching for any new changes that may have appeared in his absence. Pale moonlight washes over his features and offers Jason an almost ethereal, elvish glow. His blond hair gleams like sunlight; his pale skin glows as it absorbs the cool, empty gleam of the moon. Behind his glasses, Jason’s electric eyes spark in the darkness.

The demigod turns his eyes to her, almost as if he knows she’s watching him. A confused smile quirks against his lips. “What?” he asks. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Piper shakes her head and smiles. “Nothing. It’s just… Seems like you’ve grown quite a bit since I’ve last seen you.” She nudges her shoulder against his playfully. “It’s weird growing up, isn’t it?”

Jason laughs softly, and the sound of his amusement billows in the air. He grins at her. “Gotta say, didn’t think we’d even make it to eighteen. Seems like a feat in itself.”

She hums in agreement, then turns her gaze back to the scenery around her. A warm blanket of quiet wraps around the two demigods, pulling them together in the intimate darkness, and Piper finds that she doesn’t mind this closeness with Jason at the moment. It’s been so long since she and him have truly taken a moment for themselves.

After a few moments of calm, Jason shifts a little, his sweatshirt rustling against his body. A slight whooshing sound slips over him - the sound of paper rustling against clothing - and Piper turns her head curiously to the noise.

In his hands, she notices a paper plate with two slices of pink cake, along with two white plastic forks. She offers a quizzical look to her friend.

He responds with a shy smile. “Do you wanna eat some with me? We can hoard it for ourselves before the others wake up tomorrow morning.”

A soft laugh puffs from Piper’s lips. She pulls a fork from the plate, jabs it into the cake, and pulls a piece of it closer to her mouth. Before biting down, she teases, “Damn, Grace, didn’t take you to be the rebellious kind.”

Jason chuckles as he takes his own fork and takes a chunk for himself. “Leo’s been a bad influence on me, I guess.”

Piper doesn’t miss the pink that bleeds over his cheeks at the mention of Leo’s name. After swallowing her bite down, she offers a sparkling grin to Jason. “Ah, yes. Your boyfriend.”

She relishes the sight of Jason’s red ears. “My boyfriend,” he agrees shyly, a hum of excitement lingering over his voice.

“How are you guys? Enjoying your new apartment together?”

The blond shrugs timidly, but Piper doesn’t miss the prideful smile over his mouth. “Yeah. It’s been kinda fun. He’s really hard to share a bed with though.” Jason rolls his eyes. “He hogs the blanket, which is stupid since he can literally turn to fire and be his own heat warmer. But no, he insists on leaving me in the cold.”

“Well, they never said love was easy.”

“Hm. Yeah, I guess so.” Jason offers her a pointed look now, a glimmer of excitement overcoming his own eyes. “And what about you? How are you and Shel?”

Now it’s Piper’s turn to blush. She stuffs her cheeks with another bite of cake, and watching her do so, Jason laughs merrily.

“Well,” she huffs after swallowing her food, “we’re good. We’re considering doing long distance for college. We’ll give it a try.”

Jason nods, and an almost pitiful look comes into his eyes. “Bet that’s gotta suck to leave her behind. But I have faith in you guys.” He nudges her. “And, if it doesn’t work out, then that’s fine, too. We’re still growing and we’re still learning. We still have a lot of life to live.”

Piper shrugs in reluctant agreement, but at his words, a chill of dread trickles down her back.

Growth. It’s all about growth. Life is about blooming and thriving, about setting up roots in one place and being ready to get transported to new soil whenever Fate decides it. As beautiful as growth can be, sometimes Piper wishes she could just stay in one state of mind for a while. But life just feels like a constant shift, a constant rotation of changes. It gets a little tiring.

She sighs and picks on a thread against her sweatshirt sleeve. “Jason,” murmurs the demigod, “I- I miss everything. You know? I miss the old days. Like, don’t get me wrong, I love how much we’ve all grown and stuff, but it’s just… I miss being with everyone again. I feel lost sometimes.”

Jason nods his head and gazes wistfully out to the trees. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Like, I don’t miss the danger and fear and trauma. But I miss the chaos and stuff in our group. Remember when we got Leo to snort all those Smarties on the ship one night?” A huff of laughter echoes from Jason’s chest, but this one isn’t as full as the others. It’s a little empty, like he’s laughing into the past. “Man, that was fun.”

Piper snorts. “Yeah. Poor Leo.”

Another curtain of silence falls between them, but this one is tense, high-strung, almost as if it’s waiting for some kind of confession.

Piper sighs and leans her head against Jason’s shoulder. He flinches at the contact a little but - after accepting her touch - he leans his own head against hers. Piper locks her elbow with his and closes her eyes, losing herself in the warmth of their bodies.

“I miss you,” she says. “I know we never really had any romantic feelings for each other, but… I miss our vibe, you know? I miss our friendship.” She smiles softly at him. “You were my best friend, Jason. You are my best friend. I guess I just miss being with you and Leo as a group together.” She rubs her finger over his wrist in an attempt to ground herself. “I just miss when it was us three against the world. Now we’re… growing farther apart. Living on different sides of the country.”

Jason sighs. “We miss you too, Piper. Trust me. Every night I always feel… I don’t know. I feel like we’re always missing some important piece of us. That important piece is you.” He chuckles sadly. “We can’t be the gay trio while you’re in some totally different state.”

Piper laughs hollowly. After another beat of silence, she whispers, “We’re growing up, Jason. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

Jason doesn’t respond for a while. Piper looks up at him, wondering where his voice has gone, but finds that his gaze is fixated upon the trees. He’s not quite here, not in her hands; instead, he’s drifting over some other plane of reality, thinking through all that’s around him.

Finally, after what seems like hours, he says, “Yeah, we are. And it hurts to leave so much of our past behind. But… growing up doesn’t have to be all bad. Think of it like an important milestone for us.” He turns and smiles at her. “Everyday that we live and grow, we’re achieving greatness. We’re pushing the Fates and daring them to hurt us. We’re reaching closer to our destiny, if you believe in that stuff.” His fingers grapple with hers and he squeezes softly. At Jason’s touch, a spark of joy jolts up Piper’s arm and explodes in her core. “We’re growing,” he murmurs, “and while that can be sad, I think there’s a lot of power knowing that we’re making it as far as we are.”

A comfortable, fleeting warmth blooms in Piper’s chest as she gazes up at Jason. Only love and admiration for her glimmer in his eyes, and for once in her life, Piper feels like she’s been found.

“So philosophical,” she chuckles. Then she squeezes his hand and leans closer to him. “I love you, Jason. Thanks for being my best friend.”

“I love you, too.” Then, in a sudden movement, he throws his other arm around her and sighs contentedly. “You deserve the world,” he whispers. “Happy birthday, Piper.”

#my writing #piper mclean #jason grace #rick riordan #riordanverse #trials of apollo #toa #heroes of olympus #hoo #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #piper mclean fanfic #piper mclean fic #jason grace fanfic #jason grace fic #riordanverse fanfic #riordanverse fic

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bad-at-names-and-faces · 3 years

Text

White Night

This is my piece in the @frozines “Summer Lovin” zine... Rated T, 1258 words.

It was a warm summer evening, barely cooling down. The sun finally set over the harbor, the last glimmers of red sparkling over the bit of ocean visible from the castle. Even though most of the fjord had been in shadows for hours, the sky was still glowing with a purplish white that would last until dawn.

As she looked around, Anna could hardly believe this was real. She wasn’t used to so many people being in the castle to begin with, but this many people here this late at night, when normally Gerda might be bustling her off to bed, this was hard to believe.

Hans had reappeared, and almost literally whisked her off her feet for a dance, before they snuck off and found quiet places to talk. After a few of the more acceptable places--the garden, the balcony right outside the ballroom--she began to show him more of the castle, all the secret spots she had learned over the years. Was this improper? The guards gave some suspicious glances, but what did she care about that? This was her night. Their night.

Then, she took him over to the look-out tower.

“It’s not really dark yet,” Hans commented as they looked out over the water, the steep, dark walls of the fjord only visible in silhouette.

“Oh, no, of course it never really gets dark in the summer,” Anna stated as a matter of fact. She’d never really been anywhere else, so it hadn’t occurred to her that this would seem at all unusual to anyone.

“I suppose you get used to that, don’t you?” he asked, looking at her with a bit of a smile. “Just like the mountains everywhere. We don’t really have any mountains, except in some of our colonies. Some of my brothers have been there, but I haven’t.”

Anna tried to imagine not having mountains around. Even when she couldn’t go out freely all those years, this was what she knew. The mountains might have been outside the walls, but there were still the rocks in the garden, and the trees were the same trees that she saw in the distance.

After a moment, she took him out of the castle, across the bridge, and into town. As they got to the bottom of the clock tower, she saw that the door to the stairs was open. She’d never been here before, at least, not since she could remember. They ran up to the top.

“Look! I’ve never seen that constellation this early in the evening before!” Anna exclaimed as she grabbed Hans’s hand without thinking, stepping outside at the top. Here in the center of town, they were at just enough of a distance from the castle that the mountain that usually blocked that constellation on summer evenings wasn’t blocking it anymore.

“Really?” Hans replied. “Which one is that? I never spent as much time as I should on astronomy, I have to admit.”

“That one is…” How was she forgetting the name? She had stayed up late so many nights, with nothing better to do, and the library had several books on astronomy; she had memorized all the constellations she could spot this far north. Right now, the only name her mind could remember was Prince Hans of the Southern Isles. Nothing else mattered, did it?

She looked over at him as he smiled at her.

“Have you seen the harbor? Oh, of course you have, but, oh! I know!” She laughed and ran back inside and down the stairs, realizing she hadn’t told him where she was going, and hoping he would follow.

She lost track of how many places they had been in such a short time that evening, though it felt like forever. They sat on the roof top that she had often climbed onto by herself when nobody was looking, just staring at the stars some more.

“Is that a shooting star?” Hans asked, pointing up.

“Yes!” she shouted.

“Make a wish,” he told her. His face was very close to hers now. She could almost-

“Oh! I want to show you something else!” She pulled at his hand and led him back down the stairs. They ran toward the castle.

“Here,” she whispered when they got there. “This is a side entrance.”

“I thought you said you never left here,” he said with a smirk.

“Well... “ She giggled nervously. “Not really, but I knew this door was here.”

“I see. You like to follow the rules, then?”

“I-” She swallowed.

Hans smiled at her, stepping closer. She put her hand up to stop him from coming too near, but somehow ended up just letting her hand rest on his chest. What was she doing?

“So…” she hemmed, grabbing his hand again and pulling him inside the castle garden, “I bet you don’t have anything like this where you grew up!”

“A waterfall? I can’t say we do. We really don’t have much nature at our palace, not unless you count the horse stables,” he chuckled. Then he looked at her with an odd smile, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

Hans spoke again before Anna could question what was on his mind. “How did I not notice that this morning?”

“You can’t really see it from town,” Anna told him. “Do you want to get a closer look?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed.

They ran along the side of the wall, finding their way to the path up the hillside, until they got to the bridge across the waterfall. They walked along, Anna pointing out things she recognized from town, and parts of the fjord she was familiar with from a distance, since from a distance was the only view she’d had for so many years.

They stood on the rock outcrop in the middle of the waterfall. It was beautiful, so romantic.

“Can I ask you something crazy? Will you marry me?” Hans asked, getting down on one knee grasping her hand.

“Can I say something crazier? Yes!” Anna exclaimed, feeling a fluttering in her stomach, hardly able to believe this was really happening.

They stood holding hands and staring at each other for a moment.

“So…” Anna said, not sure what she was supposed to say now that she had accepted.

Hans stood up slowly, then stroked her cheek. She looked into his eyes, sparkling in the light reflecting off the water. She realized that they should go tell everyone, but that could wait for a few minutes, couldn’t it? They walked a little ways back along the hillside, hidden from the view of the town, stopping in a secluded spot. His lips met hers. Were they kissing? Yes, they were kissing. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but all of her girlhood fantasies crowded in her mind all at once. This was what she had been waiting for.

She eventually had enough wherewithal to put her hands around his neck, and he pulled her in closer.

***

“We need to go tell everyone,” Anna said, adjusting her hair.

“Wait, what?” Hans stopped what he was doing, showing a flash of panic, then after a pause, “Oh, right, of course. We should get your sister’s blessing.”

Anna giggled nervously at the thought. They’d had a bit of a disagreement earlier that evening, she and her sister, but that awkwardness was in the past. Surely Elsa would be happy for her now. She pulled Hans along the shortest way back to the castle. She was going to get married.

#frozine #frozen fanfiction #anna #hans #also was in the Corner of Creation discord contest

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jadoue1999 · 3 years

Text

Wanda and the life she deserved (she’ll make sure of it) Chapter 8

Summary: In honor of the amazing bob that is ¨Agatha all along¨, this chapter is from Agatha’s point of view! Find out how this century old witch deals with the event of Westview and how Peter ended up wearing the damn necklace in the first place! (Still pissed we never got an explanation for that) Please enjoy!

Previous parts: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, chapter 11, epilogue

Chapter 8: Agatha all along

Agatha had felt it in the air, a disturbance. A pulling force seemingly ripping through anything that should normally stop it. Similar to what created Westview, but this one was more contained, and a lot further. She did what any sane witch would do in her situation and rerouted the spell. A classic. Not interfering with anything, just taking what’s already there and changing the landing point. She didn’t have to wait long, soon, a young man with silver hair dropped on the stone floor. Agatha looked at the newcomer with amusement, Wanda couldn’t have done that, could she? Had the witch been so lost in grief that she ripped away a version of her brother? As the stranger stirred, she quickly hid in the shadows, first impressions were important after all. He cracked his eyes open and gripped his head in pain, the landing had to have been rough. She let him look around her dark dungeons, it was all about timing. She walked forward, slowly coming into view of the man.

“Well,” she started, amusement coloring her voice, “I see Wanda is getting desperate.”

The stranger eyed her with suspicion, slowly trying to get up to his feet. “Where am I?”

“I didn’t bring you here if that’s what you mean. Your unhinged sister did.”

“Lorna?” Agatha felt that the stranger had wanted to say another name, but it was apparently painful. Good, she could play with that.

“No dear, your twin,” she paused, reveling in his surprise and shock, followed by anger. She scoffed, “well, not technically, but details, details.”

The man rose up to his feet quicker than anyone should be able to. Check for superspeed, definitely Wanda’s brother. He was still a little disoriented, so it wasn’t hard for Agatha to pluck him mid-step and bind him to the walls. The magic in the vines would be enough to contain him. She smirked as a series of curse words left his lips as he fought his bonds. Knowing there was no need for show now, she quickly casted a mind control spell on the man.

Only for it to dissipate as soon as it reached him.

The witch frowned and tried again, to no avail. She tried reaching into his mind, only to find his thoughts flying at a thousand miles. She couldn’t get a grip, no matter how hard she concentrated. She opened her eyes to find that a migraine was now piercing through her skull. She tried her best to ignore it as she smirked. “Well, aren’t you a little problem?”

“My life’s purpose,” snarked the man.

Oh, he had spirit. She loved when they fought back, it made it all worthwhile when they finally broke.

“Now, Pietro-“

“Name’s Peter.”

“Peter, you get to be the lucky guest star of the show,” Agatha announced, smugness in her voice. “Not only that, but I’m also going to give you a very secret mission.” The speedster glared at her, clearly not interested in her proposition. Tough crowd, I see. Nevertheless, she continued. “You see, I need information about a certain someone, you’ll be my eyes and ears.”

Peter scoffed at her plan, “not gonna happen, lady. You see, I’m part of a team, and they’ll notice I’m gone and when they do, they’ll-“

Agatha quickly casted a spell to stop his rambling. She found great satisfaction in seeing the man trying to talk. The panicked look on his face when he realized that no sound was coming out would definitely be a precious memory to look back upon. She walked over to the altar and opened the Darkhold. The spell book had to be containing tips or tricks to deal with speedsters. After a bit of looking, she found the few pages concerning this special type of power. She quickly read through the many tips and warning before finding what she was looking for.

“Hm,” scoffed Agatha, narrowing her eyes at the mutant as she closed the book. “I think the thing you need, is something much more tangible than a simple spell. Your brain is too fast, I need something real to make it last.”

With a wave of her hand, a necklace appeared in her hand. It looked simple enough, there was about a dozen wooden beads with white shells. Agatha plucked a hair out of Peter’s head and began chanting in a language he couldn’t understand. The jewelry began to glow purple, Peter stared at it, uncertain of what was happening. Then, the witch took a step forward and that’s when he started struggling. Panicking is more accurate. All she could see was a moving blur, but it didn’t matter. She tightened the vine’s hold on him, the pain momentarily immobilizing the speedster. Those few seconds was all she needed to hook the necklace around his neck. She let his voice return as the memories of Wanda’s brother assaulted his mind, his screams echoing off the walls. It didn’t take long for the spell to take over him, Agatha released his bonds and led him upstairs. As they walked up the stairs, his clothes changed from a silver jacket and a band shirt to a black jacket with a purple Hawaiian shirt.

She walked him outside, in front of Wanda’s house and nudged him forward with her magic; giving him the autonomy to fulfill his role.

Agatha smirked as she watched Wanda welcome him into her home, her plan would work; she would get her answers.

...

The contact had been lost. Ever since Halloween night, Agatha had lost her eyes and ears into Wanda’s house. She assumed she had casted him out or returned him to his dimension.

Imagine her surprise when he appeared out of nowhere, literally. She had been there for the twins, but the game had just become much more interesting. She eyed him carefully, noting how the necklace was still in place. Even though she couldn’t understand how he was still there, she acted like nothing was wrong. “Well, hello! I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” she held out a hand, “I’m Agnes, your neighbor to the right, my right not yours!”

The speedster didn’t seem to recognize her, which she was ever so thankful for. The memory spell she had casted back when he arrived was still doing its job. She had originally come for Wanda’s children, but getting her brother too was quite tempting. She quickly made her choice and turned to Wanda, faking worry. She proposed taking Tommy and Billy to give her a break, something Wanda seemed to find scandalous. Agatha reassured her; it wouldn’t be a problem. Plus, she could use her brother for repairs.

She quickly got what she came here for, but the speedster refused to come. A flash of anger flared through her, she needed Wanda at her most vulnerable, how dare he try to foil her plan?

Still, benevolent as she was, she let it slip. She had the boys anyway; she’d take care of him later.

...

Saying the twins were worried about their mom was an understatement, she could hear their worried thoughts all the way in the kitchen. Agatha was fixing them sandwiches, her neighbors were still at risk of suddenly joining her, she had to keep up the facade a little longer. Screaming from the outside distracted her from the boys. Not that they needed a caretaker; they were sitting on her couch, watching TV while eating the food she had just given them.

“I’ll go check up on your mom, alright? I’ll be right back.”

Wanda was with the woman she had banished a few days ago. The screaming she had heard had now seemed to turn into a heartfelt conversation. Not good. She quickly shooed away the lady, leading Wanda to her house, she beamed on the inside. Finally, she would learn her secret, finally she’ll get her powers. She’ll drain her of everything she got, yes and once that would be done, she’d-

“Thanks Agnes, I don’t know what was up with her,” said Pietro.

Oh, that simply wouldn’t do. How did he keep appearing at the most inconvenient times? She put up her friendly neighbor facade, but inside she was fuming. When asked about the twins, she assured them that they were fine. For now. Knowing she wouldn’t get Wanda at the moment; she reminded the troublesome speedster of the tasks she needed him for. She glared at them as she watched them walk away. Still, not everything was lost; she still had the Minimoffs in her grip. Time to get to work.

“How’s the show going boys?” Agatha cheerily asked. She didn’t listen to their answers as she placed a hand behind each of the boy’s head. She quietly muttered her spell, smirking as the twin’s bodies slowly relaxed and their eyes closed. Once she was sure they were fully asleep, she took each of them in her basement, shoving them into a cell. A noise upstairs startled her, but she grinned when the newcomer spoke.

“Agnes, I’m here!” Pietro’s voice echoed. She quickly walked up the stairs.

“Oh! You arrived just in time; I just discovered a leaky pipe in the basement. I really don’t want mold growing down there!” She laughed and gestured at the man to follow her. Excitement building in her stomach as all the pieces slowly fell into place. After him, she’d only need Wanda.

As they ventured down the stairs, she could feel his anxiety growing. She assumed his subconscious also remembered his previous incursion in the basement, but she couldn’t be sure about it. Still, Agatha could feel his senses on high alert as they reached her lair.

At that, Pietro spoke up. “Where are my nephews?” he asked, slowly getting more aggressive after each word.

“Indisposed, at the moment I’m afraid,” Agatha replied. With a flick of her hand, he was levitating in the air, restrains on his hands and feet. The lack of contact with any surface made his struggling useless. She approached him, eyeing him curiously. He was definitely still under a spell, there was no Peter present, only Pietro. Nothing he was wearing seemed out of the ordinary. Agatha looked at the necklace on his neck with suspicion, something was... different. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. The jewelry was the same original piece, nothing had been changed. Then why did she lose contact? She wondered. Then it clicked.

“Oh, that little witch,” smirked Agatha. “She changed the spell. Well, we can fix that.”

She went to remove the necklace, but a burning sensation made her gasp. She looked at her hand in shock, there was no bruise, but it was definitely hurting. When did Wanda learn to protect her spells like that? She brushed her hand against her shirt, trying to get rid of the sensation before looking at her neighbor’s not brother. He seemed oblivious to what had just happened, the necklace apparently wasn’t hurting him. That meant that Wanda probably discovered his real identity, but why keep him around if he was a fake? That could only mean one thing: she was so lost in grief that she had kept him at her side even knowing it was a trick.

“Now Pietro, your nephews might be here,” she started, catching the man’s attention, “but that doesn’t mean they’re safe.” Agatha approached the speedster and gripped his chin. “That depends entirely on you. You see, I need a lookout, someone to make sure that I will not be disturbed when your sister gets here. You happen to fit the part nicely, with your superspeed. No one can run from you.”

The man scoffed, “how do you know I won’t just tell Wanda and she’ll take care of you?”

“Your sister might protect you from my magic, but that doesn’t apply to her children. One wrong move on your part and they pay the price.”

She let him consider her offer, already knowing his answer. It’s not like he had much of a choice. Either he played sentinel, or she would keep him here and make things even worse for Wanda. Shutting his eyes, he reluctantly agreed. Agatha smiled as she released him, he was about to leave but she spoke up. “If you happen to catch anyone, you take them in the attic. You stay with them. I might not have control over your person, but you’ll find it impossible to leave this house unless I want you to.”

The speedster was gone in a flash. She wished she could have taunted him with the truth, but she was fairly certain his sister’s magic wouldn’t have let it. With the power she possessed, she doubts he’d even remember if she told him he was from a different universe.

The sound of her doorbell pulled her from her thoughts. Wanda was here. Time to get this show on the run.

...

Notes: Agatha is very fun to write and since I only wanted one chapter in her point of view, you get a chapter that double the usual lenght! Thank you for reading, reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

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remmushound · 3 years

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Bay/rise 20! Bay Splinter = Splinter and Rise Splinter = Yoshi @selfindulgenz @errorfreak88 @brightlotusmoon

Yoshi clung to Leo’s shell, his paws hooked into the holders that also held the ninja’s katana and his tail curled tightly against the rough-textured shell. Leo could hardly feel the weight or touch of the mutant,. Every so often he’d have to reach back and give the fat rat a gentle uplift as Yoshi started to lose grip — it also helped to make sure that the rat was still there. Even with the pot belly, the old master barely weighed as much as April! Leo wasn’t even sure he would notice if the rat disappeared from his shell.

“Oh Ho Ho! You’re so strong!” Splinter laughed until he was coughing, “and so polite too! Blue, you should learn a thing or two from this one!”

Leonardo didn’t acknowledge his father, and that simple misdeed made Leo’s blood boil. Raph bore the furious Leonardo over his shoulder, holding the struggling slider as securely as possible and occasionally shifting his grip as Leonardo started to wiggle himself free. It felt like he was holding a solid ball of moss that just kept slipping out of his grip no matter how hard he held, and the fact that Leonardo wouldn’t sit still for a moment made restraining him even more difficult.

“PUT ME DOWN!” Leonardo’s frantic slaps went unnoticed by Raph. “I’ll show you the pain of my three-star hurricane!”

“Oh you’re a pain alright.” Raph growled.

“And you’re a brute! Literal hotdog water. Disgustang.”

“Hotdog water…?” Raph repeated slowly, and then laughed with a shake of his head, “Whatever you say man.”

Michelangelo was behaving himself enough that Leo let him walk on his own, though he made sure that Mikey and Donnie stayed behind the youngest turtle to make sure he could keep up; it was mostly so didn't try to run off, but Leo wasn’t going to say that out loud.

It didn't take them long to get back to April’s apartment building— it was only seven minutes out past where Yoshi was. Leo motioned for Raph to go through first, which he did after tossing Leonardo inside. Then in went Michelangelo, then Mikey and Donnie. Only after all the turtles were safe inside did Leo help Yoshi in and then climbed through after.

Leonardo clambered to his feet immediately, scrambling to collect Michelangelo and Yoshi in the seconds before he was singled out by Leo.

“How the fuck…” Leo started.

“Did I get so dazzlingly handsome?” Leonardo smirked as made a sparkle effect with his hands, “It’s genetic. Got it from pops.”

“Do you think this is a joke?” Leo backed the slider up against a corner, his shadow falling over Leonardo like a dark storm.

“No. But I think you’re a joke.” Leonardo laughed, sliding his way down the wall and slipping between Leo’s legs to escape the brute of a mutant. “A joke and a jerk and a bully who likes throwing his weight around because he has control issues and egocentric tendencies that tell him he’s better than everyone else. Am I hitting home at all, Nardo?” Leonardo laughed and looked back at Michelangelo. “Hey, Donnie was right— that nickname is fun!”

“Oooo!” Mikey covered his mouth, “shouldn’t have done that! You’re in for it now!

Leo charged Leonardo quite suddenly and slammed the mutant into the wall, leaving a deep indent where the sliders shell penetrated the drywall.

“Aaaand now I gotta pay to have that fixed.” April sighed from where she and Casey were gathered in a corner just watching.

“Someone care to explain what’s happening?” Casey growled impatiently.

“Don.” Was all Leo said, but it was with enough force that it sent the taller box turtle scrambling to obey.

“Uh— come on, I’ll give you the rundown.” Donnie ushered April and Casey out of the room. “Uh, you better come too.” He guided Yoshi gently away from the group, the rat’s eyes remaining trained on his sons as long as possible before he was pulled away.

“How did you get to your master so quickly?”

“I got two legs, I used em. You should try it.”

“You think this whole charade thing of yours is charming? I get enough of this bullshit from Mikey, and I refuse to accept your childish nonsense as well!” He pulled Leonardo away from the wall and then slammed him back into it, “How did you get there?! Me and my brothers risked our asses to get to you and we deserve an explanation!”

“What? We were fine, dude! We didn’t need rescued.” Leonardo laughed, “Did you expected me to just sit by because Leader dearest told me to.”

“Yes.” Leo’s voice dropped several octaves as he got closer to his counterpart. “Thats the point of a being leader. How did you get there so fast? I’m not asking again. That was a seven minute journey for me and my brothers, but it took you less than one.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Leonardo said simply. “We just got mad squills! Right Miguel?”

“He’s not a part of this.” Leo said softly, “and stop trying to change the subject!”

As the bickering continued, Michelangelo just stared with a disappointed and slightly concerned look on his face. He leaned over to the larger version of himself.

“Does he do this often?”

“Yeah— no. Yeah.” Mikey nodded each time his answer changed.

Michelangelo tisked his tongue, “Doctor Feelings is gonna have a field day with him when she gets back to the lair.”

Mikey blinked. “Who?”

Michelangelo shrugged and waved a dismissive hand. “Eh, not important. You’ll meet her later.”

“Sweet.”

****

Donatello and Splinter looked over the destroyed kitchen without any words being exchanged. Donatello only shook his head in disappointment as he calculated the immense amount of money he owed to the poor rat, while said rat was in disbelief to just how much Raphael had eaten.

All the cabinets were swung open, cans ripped apart with bare hands and licked clean of their contents before being tossed aside to cover the ground in a sea of trash. Beans, pineapples, beef stew— no can or box or bottle was spared. The fridge had been ransacked next, and now that it was empty Splinter cursed himself for not trying to stop the snapping turtle sooner. When Raphael ran out of food to eat, he quickly turned his attention to the cabinets themselves, almost drooling.

“That was a month's worth of food…” Splinter said slowly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back.” Donatello sighed, then quickly pointed at Raphael when the snapper went to take a bite out of the cabinet door. “Hey! No! Bad Raph! Baaaad!”

Raphael narrowed his eyes and grunted, but listened to Donatello. He swiped his hands over his muzzle in a cleansing motion like Yoshi always did after eating a big meal.

“You got anything else?” Raphael asked hopefully.

“Er… I don’t believe so, heh. You have… ahem. Quite the appetite, young ninja.”

“Thanks!” Raphael tapped himself on the chest and burped. “I’m a big boy!” He patted his stomach pointedly.

Splinter smacked his lips together. “I can see that.”

“Sensei!” Leo’s voice echoed down the tunnel announcing his arrival, “We’re— holy shit what happened here?”

“Language, young man!” Splinter scolded almost immediately. “You may be nineteen, but you don’t need to say such a foul word!”

The rest of Leo’s brothers poked into the room behind him, staring in astonishment at their destroyed kitchen.

“MY KITCHEN!” Raph exclaimed loudly.

“MY POP-TARTS!” Donnie whimpered.

“Oh no! Oh no no no no!” Mikey pushed his way past the group and peered behind the fridge, “My orange soda! Noooooo! You monster!”

Mikey collapsed to his knees almost in a bow, slamming his fit into the ground in his despair.

Leo shook his head slowly in disbelief. “Oh god just looking at this mess is gonna give me an anxiety attack.”

Splinter gave a nod and placed a broom in Leo’s hand. “Then you better get to cleaning.”

#NOT THE ORANGE SODA #Michelangelo is gender fluid because I said so #Leo vs Leo is gonna be pretty prominent this series #raph is a big boy who eats a lot #please forgive him sensei #LITERAL HOTDOG WATER

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ohayohimawari · 3 years

Text

And it was Love at First Brawl

A drabble written for Day 7 of @kakaobiweek Violet | Music | Fantasy

This is another humorous piece appropriate for teen-and-up readers and set in a modern AU.

This drabble is heavily inspired by my good friend @azuzeldraws incredible art series, Metal Konoha, and I dedicate this chapter to her. Thank you, Zu, for letting us use your amazing work to promote this event!

And it was Love at First Brawl

It was one of those Friday nights when Kakashi left the restaurant with a stomach full of his favorite supper and an empty soul after dining alone.

Though the day neared its end, Konoha’s club district was just beginning to wake. The streets were full of jaywalkers, inexperienced parallel-parkers, and the night owl versions of early birds lined up in boisterous queues waiting for the bars to open.

Kakashi felt entirely out of place and maybe almost too old for this scene while he dutifully waited at the corner for the pedestrian crossing light to signal his turn. He stepped into the crosswalk once it was safe, and he saw a man on the opposite side, jogging towards the intersection to cross before the light changed.

Kakashi stopped in his tracks in the middle of the street, entirely entranced.

He watched the individual blades of the other man’s black, unruly hair as they bounced with each step. He wore a t-shirt that fitted him like he was born to wear it and a healthy glow on every inch of exposed skin. His sparkling eyes met Kakashi’s as he trotted past him on the street and offered a greeting through a roguish grin. “Hey.”

And that was all it took.

Being a classic lit teacher, he had a multitude of words at his disposal. That man was vivacity personified, and Kakashi turned on his heel, following him with his eyes. The dark-haired man ran right up to the door of the seediest bar on the street and gleefully skipped up the stairs. He exchanged laughter and a handshake with the bouncer and disappeared inside.

The pedestrian light flashed red, alerting Kakashi that he still stood in the middle of the street. His feet moved of their own accord, and a moment later, his brain agreed with their plan. He retraced his steps, abandoning his intention to go home, knowing he would abandon much more than that for a chance to meet the stranger that charmed him.

As driven as he was, Kakashi hesitated for a moment outside of the club, assessing it. The sidewalk in front of it was littered with empty bottles and cigarette butts, and two people appeared to be doing something he didn’t want to interrupt in the shadows of the alley next to it. Then, he assessed himself.

He was dressed more casually than usual, out for a date with nobody but him, wearing a t-shirt that featured a band called ROOT. He had no idea who they were, or why they used all capital letters, but his students chose it from the trendy store Boiling Subject as a gift for him, and it was comfortable after wearing a tie all day. Deciding that his attire was appropriate for the venue, Kakashi walked up the stairs that led to the door, where he was stopped by the same menacing bouncer that laughed only moments before.

“You sure you wanna do this?” The man growled through scarred lips.

“Pretty sure,” Kakashi replied, though his confidence wavered.

“We don’t want any trouble.” The man’s muscles bulged in a show of strength as he folded his arms across his chest.

“I don’t want to bring any,” Kakashi replied, honestly.

“Let him in, Ibiki.” A pony-tailed bartender wearing a high-cut shirt that showed more cleavage than fabric chastised the bouncer.

“Whatever you say, Anko,” Ibiki moved aside to allow Kakashi into the bar.

As foreboding as the exchange was, it caught the attention of the handsome dark-haired stranger who stood at the bar. Bolstered, Kakashi stood in the space next to him.

“What can I getcha, hon?” Anko tossed a stained cardboard coaster onto the bar in front of him.

“A beer,” Kakashi ordered as if he’d never been to a pub before, too nervous to recall his favorite drink.

Anko retrieved a bottle from the cooler behind her while Kakashi withdrew a few bills from his wallet. Then, he wrapped his hand around the bottle of Lone Ninja Star she offered after opening it with her teeth.

Kakashi ignored how unhygienic it was to take a sip from the bottle as he did it, glancing around the bar, looking everywhere but at the man that led him there. It was half-full of patrons in various stages of sobriety and had a stage all set up and waiting for a band to perform. When he finished noting where all the emergency exits were, the most incredible thing happened.

“Cheers,” Mr. Vivacity said, bringing their beer bottles together in a toast.

“Cheers,” Kakashi replied, then pulled a long swig from the bottle, savoring the moment that the man of his dreams had spoken first.

“So, uh,” the dark-haired man glanced down at Kakashi’s shirt, and a chuckle bubbled out of him, “you like this band too?” He tilted his head in the direction of the stage.

“Um, yeah," Kakashi stammered, "I mean, yes. Yes, I do."

"Cool," Mr. Vivacity replied with a smile that made Kakashi's knees buckle. "Which of their CDs is your favorite?"

Kakashi's quick mind kicked into gear on the spot. If the band had multiple releases, then the safest answer would be, "I think their first one."

"Really?" The dark-haired man appeared pleasantly surprised. "So, you're an old-school fan, huh?"

“Yep, I guess I am,” Kakashi laughed a little awkwardly and brought his beer back to his lips.

“I think my favorite track on that one is, Kill Me With Your Kekkei Genkai,” Mr. Vivacity nodded, thinking aloud, and Kakashi felt his eyes bulge, worried that he might not be able to keep up the facade. But then he was spared when the other man suddenly changed the subject. “By the way, my name is—”

“Crybaby Tobi, you finally made it!” A man with slicked blonde hair and wearing a shirt with religious cult symbols literally crashed into their conversation, spilling his beer on Kakashi’s shirt.

The unwelcome interruption glanced at him. “My bad,” he drawled unapologetically, looking down at the soiled shirt. Then, his eyes shot up to meet Kakashi’s.

“WHOA! You’ve got balls, man!”

“Thank you,” Kakashi decided to take it as a compliment, turning towards the bar to grab a few napkins. He blotted at his shirt when Anko shouted to him that there was a hot air dryer in the men’s room, and, as much as Kakashi didn’t want to walk away from Mr. Crybaby before he could learn his real name, he didn’t want to stand there like an idiot in a wet ROOT t-shirt.

By the time he exited the bathroom, a makeshift merchandise table had appeared near it, so he bee-lined to it to learn more about the band to contribute to a conversation about them. At least, now he knew the band’s name was ANBU, and he wondered what was up with bands using all capital letters.

He had barely begun to browse the tracklist on the back of one of the CDs when the purple-haired, facial-pierced woman at the table asked, “You gonna buy that?”

Something about her tone made Kakashi feel obligated to pull out his wallet, and he handed over a twenty-dollar bill.

“I don’t have change for that,” she deadpanned, bored, and sarcastic.

Suddenly, the bar erupted with shouting, so Kakashi quickly grabbed a second CD to even out the exchange and hurried back to the bar and Mr. Vivacity, or Crybaby, or whoever he was.

Then, his heart sank when he saw that the other man wasn’t there anymore.

Kakashi stood in front of the stage feeling like the biggest fish out of water when the club’s sound system screamed into life with the ear-splitting sound of feedback through the amps. Kakashi covered his ears and spun around in time to catch the band taking their positions onstage.

The singer set down a six-pack next to his mic and yanked one can of beer free from it. He held it sideways in his hand, pulled out a kunai, and stabbed it in the middle before bringing the punctured hole to his mouth.

“Tenzō! Tenzō! Tenzō!” The crowd chanted while he shotgunned the beer and cheered when he crushed the empty can against his head. He grabbed the microphone in front of him when his large, almond eyes made bigger by copious amounts of black eyeliner landed on Kakashi.

“What the fu —” He roared, launching himself off the stage, tackling Kakashi to the ground.

Even though he was a classic lit teacher, Kakashi held his own for a long time in a fight against a bar full of punks until he took one bottle to the head too many and woke up in the alley next to the bar.

“Hey,” Kakashi winced as he turned his head to see who spoke to him, already recognizing that voice and feeling a little happier than concussed. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Kakashi muttered, “thanks, Mr. Crybaby.”

“It’s Obito,” the other man laughed, “and you’re welcome, Mr. Metalhead.”

“I didn’t fool you for a second, did I?” Kakashi licked at his fattened, split bottom lip, hoping he looked like he deserved sympathy. “I’m Kakashi, by the way.”

Obito snickered and pressed a bag of ice against Kakashi’s head. “I figured you didn’t quite know what you walked into, wearing a ROOT t-shirt to an ANBU gig.”

“What was that all about?”

“Tenzō used to be the drummer for that band, but he had a big blow-up with their manager, Danzō, so he quit and formed his own band. There’s a lot of bad blood there.”

Kakashi looked down, embarrassed, not knowing what to say and feeling like a total idiot.

“Why did you come to the bar?” Obito asked quietly.

Kakashi sighed through his nose. If he learned anything that night, it was that honesty probably came with less violence. “You.”

“Me?” Obito asked, even more timidly.

“Yeah,” Kakashi glanced up at him. “You passed me on the street, and, I… I just had to meet you,” he felt a little like a weirdo admitting it out loud, but he was past the point of stopping now. “I dunno, I, I just had a feeling, and I didn’t want to let you slip away.”

“Me too,” Obito confided, lowering the bag of ice, and Kakashi peered at him through the eye that wasn’t swollen shut. “I was just about to run back out when you showed up at the door. I uh, I’m the sound guy here,” he tilted his head towards the bar, “and I was running late; otherwise, I would’ve stopped right there in the crosswalk. But when I saw the band was running late, I was about to go after you,” he ended with a shy smirk.

“You’re the sound guy?” Kakashi’s brain was turning to mush and it had nothing to do with how many blows he took to the face.

“Yeah, I, uh,” Obito brought the ice back up to Kakashi’s head, “I messed with their levels hoping the feedback would distract Tenzō long enough for you to get out of his line of sight, but,” he grimaced.

“You wanna go for a drink with me?” Kakashi mumbled, knowing he couldn’t embarrass himself anymore that night.

Obito chuckled at him and held up his hand. “How many fingers do you see?”

Kakashi focused on the fingers in front of his face. “Three?”

Obito laughed louder and stood up, “Wrong.” He helped Kakashi to his feet, “Looks like Konoha ER is our first date.”

#kakaobiweek2021 #kakaobi #kakashi #obito #day 7 #hima writes

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slightlycrunchy · 3 years

Text

the color you bleed is me

A fic written for the Dead Dove exchange over at @thewitcherbog. My recipient is @jaskiersvalley who wanted a little mind control, so where else would I go but to Vampires? (Let’s see if this gets flagged heh)

Read on ao3 (which I recommend cuz the formatting is better)

WC: 5.8k // Rated E // Warnings: blood and gore, sexual violence, explicit sexual content, dub-con, mind control, blood as lube // Tags: vampire!Jaskier, top Jaskier, happy ending, geraskier, hurt/comfort, geralt is self-sacrificing

It all begins one night across from his witcher, soft amber eyes aglow with burning flame. Jaskier stands, stretching his travel-weary muscles as he endures the cracks that run up and down his spine. They have just eaten dinner, dried meat turned into a stew flavored with a handful of herbs Jaskier had happened upon. Usually it’s a good night when sweet little surprises like this happen. Jaskier loves these evenings spent around the fire, soft companionship shared with his best friend.

Friends.

Yes, that’s what they are.

“To bed, bard?”

Geralt’s rough tone catches him unawares and he jumps. He doesn’t dare hope that Geralt didn’t see it with the small smirk that plays at his shadowed face.

“Afraid so, dear, long day and all. You’ve worn me out something dreadful. It’s a shame I won’t have the energy for anything else”, Jaskier teases, the back of his hand held to his forehead in an affected swoon. Geralt simply rolls his eyes, far too used to Jaskier’s antics to be provoked any longer.

“Yes, what a shame. A good wank would have put you out hard enough I would be spared your snoring.”

Jaskier chokes on a laugh. He’s still not quite used to Geralt’s good-natured teasing. “Yes, well, perhaps there’s energy for that. Maybe you could do the same and spare me yours?”

“I sleep like the dead.”

“Un-dead more like it.”

Geralt’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter and with a wave of his hand, he dismisses Jaskier. Turning away, Jaskier finally settles into his own bedroll. It’s a cold night, autumn’s grasp only becoming stronger each day, and yet Jaskier feels unbearably warm, his cheeks and chest alight with an inner fire.

Friends. Yes.

The teasing, the ribbing, the fights that melt into small squabbles that are gotten over quickly. Gone are the days of getting on each others’ last nerve and Jaskier fighting for scraps of Geralt’s attention.

Friends.

As the night closes in and Jaskier’s thoughts go in familiar circles, he feels sleep coming for him strong and fast. Gods, is he exhausted. It really is a shame that he doesn’t have the energy to take himself in hand.

This is the last thought he is allowed before sleep takes him.

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

“Jaskier!”

He’s jolted into waking, his heart racing so hard it hurts his chest.

“G-Geralt—?”

“Melitele’s tits, Jaskier hurry the fuck up,” Geralt growls from somewhere above. Jaskier’s eyes have not yet adjusted to the bright light around him, sunlight pouring down on him sharply—

Oh no. Not again.

He’s up as quickly as he can manage, bedroll hastily packed and boots put on the wrong feet. He needs to take a piss but will hold it for now, not wanting to worsen the look he can imagine lies starkly across the witcher’s face as he waits for him, ready to go with all of their things packed.

He’s done it again. For the third day in a row, Jaskier has slept through their usual dawn waking. Two decades of travelling off and on with Geralt should guarantee Jaskier’s body knows what to do and when. The sun warming his skin has always been his signal to wake, just like it is Geralt’s. Even when the witcher would leave him for the long winters, it took weeks for Jaskier’s body to recognize that it did not actually have to wake with the sun in his rooms in Oxenfurt.

He doesn’t understand what’s happening.

“I’m sorry, Geralt, I don’t know what’s come over me,” Jaskier says, breathless as he comes to the witcher’s side, arms full of the bag he clumsily tries to throw over his shoulder. His limbs shake a bit with the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so awake.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier looks up, his first time really seeing Geralt this morning, shocked that the look he had imagined—pure, unadulterated irritation—is not there at all. There’s a furrow to Geralt’s brow as his eyes shamelessly roam Jaskier’s body. It makes Jaskier’s cheeks hot.

“Sorry. Again.”

As Geralt turns and they begin their way out of the woods, Jaskier rubs at his jaw absently where it aches. Why did Geralt look at him like that? And why isn’t he angry?

Jaskier doesn’t stop wondering for the rest of the day.

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

Something is wrong with Jaskier.

Amber eyes roam over the sleeping body that lies close to the fire, small shivers still running up and down the blanketed lump. Jaskier has slept through dinner, and this isn’t the first time.

Geralt tears his eyes away from the man before him, looking up to the stars that shine bright and clear above them. The weather is pleasant, though cold. A human would perhaps be feeling its bite by now, but not to the degree that Jaskier seems to. Geralt has taken to holding the bard close the past few days just so his teeth will stop chattering; the man sleeps so deeply that Geralt is sure he doesn’t even notice.

The hare Geralt caught sits heavy in his stomach, Jaskier’s portion eaten as well, as Geralt knows by now he won’t be able to wake the other man. His sleep patterns have become worrisome if he’s being honest. Jaskier is nearly impossible to wake of a morning, and more often than not he doesn’t eat before he goes to bed in the evenings. Tonight, the sun hadn’t even fallen beneath the treeline before Jaskier had rolled out his bed and folded onto it like a man who hadn’t rested in days.

And yet they don’t talk about it.

Jaskier’s appetite has waned, even midday breaks taken only for sips of water and a rest for his feet. Geralt has had to shake him awake twice, head rolling onto his chest against a tree. Jaskier seems to be able to fall into sleep anywhere, at any time. This level of exhaustion can’t be healthy.

Jaskier says nothing.

Geralt has watched his skin turn sallow and hands begin to shake, and even as Geralt shoots him knowing looks, begging the bard to say something, Jaskier looks away with a look like shame blanketing his face. Why would he be ashamed? If he’s growing sick, there’s nothing for Jaskier to feel shame over; he can’t help it.

With a sigh, Geralt thinks of Jaskier’s age. His fortieth birthday is coming up, literally within the week. Two decades Geralt has spent with this man, at first an annoyance but now someone Geralt would call his closest friend.

Friends.

Geralt wonders at that word. So innocent and small, and yet it holds the meaning of joy in his life. Jaskier brings so much joy into his life.

Geralt startles, half rising from the log he sits on when a shuddering sigh escapes the lump across the flames from him. Geralt waits a moment, but then Jaskier settles and the tension bleeds from his limbs. Forty years old is middle-aged for a human, a time when their bodies begin to struggle and slow. For the gods’ sakes, many don’t even make it this far. Sickness ravages too many too young, and Jaskier has always been bafflingly healthy.

But not anymore, it seems.

With a heaviness set upon his shoulders, Geralt rises and makes his way to Jaskier’s side, placing his own bedroll close. Something pricks at his mind that he doesn’t want to name as he bundles Jaskier into his arms. Geralt hears his labored breathing slow, Jaskier’s muscles relaxing into Geralt’s chest as he holds him closer and Geralt ignores the twist in his gut.

Not for the first time, Geralt wishes he had the means to know what the future holds, where they will end. He doesn’t know what he will do if he loses his closest friend.

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

Jaskier can’t eat. His stomach twists and curls uncomfortably nearly every waking moment, and even the thought of food has him nearly retching. His jaw aches, a sensation that has crept up on him with every waking morning and no matter how much he massages the skin there, nothing assuages his discomfort. He knows Geralt is aware something is wrong, but the witcher never brings it up, and for that Jaskier is thankful.

He doesn’t want to acknowledge whatever this is. But he’s finding it harder to ignore.

The tipping point comes the day before he is due to turn forty, some vague and distant part of Jaskier’s mind regaling him of birthdays spent in Oxenfurt, memories drenched in too much wine and debauchery. There have been other, softer years spent with Geralt on such a day; times when Geralt has gifted him something thoughtful and sweet—useful, more often than not. If he’s honest, those are his favorite years. As he gets older, nights full of revelry are wanted far less, time with those he loves needed far more.

And Jaskier loves Geralt, by Melitele’s mercy he does.

The sky sprinkles a light drizzle all around them, grey and pressing down with a haze in the air that tugs at Jaskier’s lungs with an insistent pull. A town rises up before them out of the mist, inconsequential, looking no different than the last four they've passed through in the past two weeks. However, Jaskier thinks every town would look the same to him at this point.

His breathing is labored as he follows Roach blindly, her body taking up a dark corner of his vision even as he stares down at his own feet. It’s all he can do to keep walking; place one foot in front of the other, the pressure at his soles grounding and slightly hypnotic as he does so. He’s so unaware that he walks into her backside as she’s stopped at some point, his shoulder bouncing off with an embarrassing squeak as he’s shocked out of his daze.

“Jaskier, we’re here.”

Geralt’s voice sounds distant even as Jaskier attempts to look up at him. The back of his neck aches something awful and he can’t quite force himself to make eye contact, his gaze shifting off somewhere over Geralt’s left shoulder. Even so, Jaskier gives a wan smile. “Where exactly is ‘here’, witcher?”

“A place I know...with people I know,” Geralt answers, his voice soft and...concerned. Jaskier’s expression shutters; he doesn’t want Geralt’s pity, he’s fine, this is all fine. He ignores how his knees shake beneath him—

“You’re not fine, bard,” a feminine voice cuts through the fog.

Immediately Jaskier is at attention, more aware than he’s felt in days. He looks to Geralt’s face, a feeling of betrayal and something else that’s hot and nearly overwhelming bubbling up in his chest. He hasn’t seen her in months, and Jaskier has been grateful for it, especially since his feelings for Geralt have changed as of late, tumbling firmly into non-platonic territories. She is a threat, an enemy come to take what is his—

He startles. Where has that thought come from?

“Yennefer? Why is she here Geralt, what are you doing?” His heart rate is rising and with it comes a new wave of dizziness. He sways, Geralt bracing him firmly beneath his elbow. Geralt’s face is pinched in discomfort.

“You’re...you’re not well, Jask. It wasn’t originally my plan to seek her out, but I heard rumors of a sorceress this way and…” he trails off.

“And you look like shit, bard. Stop being so stubborn as to not accept help from someone who can do something about it.”

It’s as if it comes from nowhere really, like he’s turned a corner and it’s just there, crouched and ready to pounce on him when he’s least expecting it. Fury; hot, possessive, overwhelming fury. He is equal parts surprised and satisfied when he hisses, the sound feeling wrong coming from his mouth. Gods, his mouth aches; he wants to tear her to shreds.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier won’t look at him, eyes boring holes into the mage before him who takes a moment to look surprised before her eyes harden into steel. His head pounds.

She nearly sneers when she says, “I know what the fuck you are.”

Jaskier hardly has a moment to register her words before his legs give out and everything goes deeply, horribly, black.

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

Jaskier is sleeping deeply, looking worse than ever, upon a bed inside the humble cottage Yennefer has set herself up in. The lack of wealth that usually surrounds the mage in her favored homesteads is shocking, though Geralt has more pressing matters to mind.

“What’s wrong with him, Yen?” He tries to keep the desperation out of his voice.

She doesn’t look at him, busy bustling around in the small kitchen, gathering up herbs and water into a bowl that she heats with her magic. She places sprigs of rosemary and sage within it and immediately Geralt’s senses are overwhelmed with the earthy softness as she wrings out a cloth and fits it neatly upon Jaskier’s forehead, all with clinical ease. Jaskier has begun to sweat, his skin clammy with it. He pants harshly, and Geralt feels an urgency more than ever.

“Tell me, Yen.”

She looks at him askance, placing the bowl upon a table that rests at the bedside. “You’re not going to like it, witcher. Things are going to change.”

“When one lives as long as I have, change is inevitable.”

Yennefer looks at the bard, and Geralt isn’t sure if he imagines her gaze to be full of pity. “Not like this, Geralt.”

Geralt feels his patience snap, “Damn it all, Yen! Tell me!”

“Don’t you yell at me, witcher,” she says dangerously, even as she finally stops before him, arms folded over her chest in defiance. “Now shut up.”

She’s silent for a moment and the anxiety that Geralt has easily pushed down with action and outward movement now comes toppling over him. Is Jaskier dying? The air in the room is foreboding, so much so that he can hardly breathe with it. He watches as she hardens her expression, her eyes darkening. He clenches his fists.

“He’s turning, Geralt.”

Of all the things she could have said, this was not what he expected. “Turning? Turning to what, Yen?”

“Turning into what, you mean. He’s a vampire, Geralt. How have you not noticed? I assume he hasn’t been eating, been sleeping more—he’s probably in quite a bit of pain as his body goes through the changes. I can see his teeth from here, how have you missed it?”

The teeth? Immediately Geralt is at Jaskier’s side, raising one pale lip to look at the canines there. His throat tightens at the sight; they match his own, now. He knows they will only grow sharper. Suddenly the thought overtakes him, stealing his breath, “His fortieth is tomorrow Yen...tomorrow.”

“Is it? What a shame.”

“Have some compassion, for Melitele’s sake,” he says without heat, but his mind is roaming elsewhere.

He thinks back to the bestiary, of all that he knows of higher vampires. How does Jaskier not know what he is? For surely he doesn’t know, he would have told Geralt...wouldn’t he? There isn’t much known about the species, many witchers having been destroyed too swiftly to report any characteristics in the flesh. Though, they know a little: vampires come of age much later than humans, at forty to be exact. They hold the ability to thrall and speak to the beasts of the field, lack reflection or shadow and can blend in with humans almost seamlessly. They don’t require human blood, but many give into their desires and take it anyway—except on one day of their life.

The day they turn.

“He’s starving, Geralt—he’ll need his fill of blood tomorrow to survive the change, so what will you do? You hunt monsters like him. You can’t possibly condone even your precious bard taking a human life to save his own? What will the world come to—”

“Quit mocking him, Yen,” Geralt spits, his mind in a whirlwind.

Jaskier’s body has been slowly transitioning over the past two weeks and Geralt hates himself for not noticing, though there’s no way he could have. Without realizing it, Geralt has begun petting Jaskier’s chestnut hair, his sweat slicking it back bit by bit. With gentle hands, Geralt lowers them to the hem of Jaskier’s tunic, slowly lifting it up just to Jaskier’s chest.

Geralt sighs heavily. He’s lost weight—more than Geralt would have thought. His stomach lies sunken in slightly and the edges of his soft chest have turned sharp, ribs protruding by a small measure. His body has been wasting away and something in Geralt howls at this. It’s his job to protect Jaskier, to make sure he’s safe—how can he protect him from this?

“So what are you going to do witcher? You could wait until tomorrow to slay him or…” Geralt looks up at her, his eyes wide in surprise, “you could do it now, while he sleeps. Put him out of his misery before he even knows of the monster he has become.”

“Jaskier is no monster,” he growls, something in him jumping forth with teeth bared. He turns away from her, to look at the man below him who didn’t choose this for himself but is forced into it regardless—

Not unlike Geralt himself had once been.

Witchers are hated all over the continent, though they do thankless, dirty work that keeps the people safe in their beds, and yet he didn’t have a choice in the matter. In those early days, Geralt had wished he didn’t survive the trials, hadn’t lived to become this. ‘Monster’ they call him. He used to believe it...until Jaskier came along.

Jaskier was never daunted by his looks or gruff demeanor. Jaskier always saw deeper down, into who Geralt actually is...and now, Geralt will do the same.

“I will help him.”

He sees the way Yennefer flinches even from the corner of his eye, unwilling to look away from Jaskier’s face. The bard’s brows have knit together in discomfort now, and Geralt gently smoothes the ache away with his thumb.

“Are you insane, Geralt? He’ll kill you!”

“That may be true, but…” He doesn’t know what it is, or why, but something in Geralt’s mind says that Jaskier won’t. He doesn’t dare trust it, but it’s there all the same. “That would be alright.”

“It will hurt Geralt, he’ll want the thrill of the hunt, he’ll tear you to shreds.” He hears the concern in her voice. It’s not as surprising as he would expect. “I— Please don’t, Geralt.”

Geralt rises from the edge of the bed, and makes his way over to where Yennefer stands, her fingers fidgeting with each other in her discomfort. Geralt feels his expression soften.

“Is there any other way, Yen?”

She is silent. Her gaze skitters to the floor. “No. Either he dies without feeding, or I suppose you end him—which it seems you won’t do,” she says accusingly.

“I won’t.”

“Then do what you will, witcher.” She sounds resigned even as she turns away with a dismissive wave, sauntering off into some other portion of the house down a long hallway to his right.

Geralt’s stomach twists at the thought that this may be the last time he sees her, speaks with her, and they’ve ended on such a sour note. “Thank you, Yennefer...for everything.” He says this softly, but somehow he knows she has heard him.

With a final look down the now empty hall, Geralt turns, his eyes settling across the exhausted body before him. In three strides he’s beside Jaskier now, and takes his hand within his own. Jaskier’s skin is cold.

“Let’s go, Jask.”

And as he slips into the night, a vague direction planned within his mind, strangely Geralt finds he feels nothing but peace.

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

He’s so unbearably hot.

It’s as if his skin has molted, revealing something fresh and new and entirely too weak like a newborn's flesh and he aches with it.

It’s difficult to open his eyes, the slit between his lashes hard won and he closes them immediately in the end, the air around him bright with flickering warmth.

“Jaskier? Jask.”

He knows that voice though it feels far away, muted beneath his pain and the tightness of his own body. He clenches his jaw, teeth and gums radiating with discomfort as he realizes he’s lying down, his back on something firm yet soft. He feels fingers run through his hair.

“Sleep. You’ll wake when it’s time.”

He doesn’t understand what that means and yet...he knows it to be true.

And so Jaskier sleeps.

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

The next time he wakes, Jaskier knows he is not the same.

His body thrums, residual pain receding into something else, something that sings in his veins and calls to him from beyond. It’s instinctual, and his eyes shoot open with the hunger that would be foolish to call bodily alone.

He can smell him now. A man. Smoky and sweet—salt and musk. His mouth waters uncontrollably.

Elongated nails, sharp at their points, dig into fabric that lies soaked with sweat beneath him. His chest is bare, but the breeches around his legs remain and immediately he knows this will not do. With a strength that feels nothing but right, Jaskier is quick to rip them away along with his braies, leaving his skin unencumbered in the night air. His cock hangs heavy between his legs and his back arches with the feel of the fire-warmed air caressing his balls that already tighten with need.

It’s nearly overwhelming, the amount of sensation he feels. He feels empty, his jaw aching and fingers itching to slash and claw, to draw blood that he can lick away, filling his body with nourishment and energy—

He needs to feed. He needs it desperately.

He looks around, taking in the room. It appears to be a cave, carved into the side of a mountain, the drop off at the mouth of the entrance steep and dark, but he can easily see out into the night with his enhanced vision. Somehow, this doesn’t phase him at all, and as his eyes scan the walls, the ceiling, across the fire to his right and through the flames, he sees him.

Geralt.

If pressed, Jaskier would be unable to explain the exhilaration that runs through him at the sight. It feels wrong when he smiles, his teeth taking up too much of his mouth but he does it all the same; he can’t help it. Seeing Geralt makes him so happy.

“Jask...how are you feeling?”

The words sound off to his ears, but even so he understands them. Answering the question however, is not his priority at the moment.

With limbs that feel shaky for only a moment before they strengthen, Jaskier rises, his member bobbing and full with every step he takes towards the man on the other side of the fire. Geralt’s eyes glow, and Jaskier can see the cords of muscle in his neck tighten with anticipation. The witcher is nervous...interesting.

Once Jaskier sees it, he can’t seem to look anywhere else. Geralt’s pulse pounds beneath the thin, white skin above his collarbone, and Jaskier feels himself swoon at the sight. Two quick strides have him close enough to touch and he doesn’t hesitate to bury his nose within the crook of Geralt’s neck, taking in the scent of the man, his nose picking up things he knows he never has before. Jaskier’s skin tingles with the proximity and suddenly his urges snap into place; this is his friend, this is his love, this man is his.

“Jask, do you know who you are? Who I am? Do you...do you know what’s happening?”

Geralt’s voice cracks as Jaskier licks the column of his throat, from the dip in his clavicle to the point of his chin. Geralt tastes like sweat and anxiety, and Jaskier can’t get enough.

Strong hands hold Geralt at the nape and lower him down to the rough ground, the points of Jaskier’s nails digging into Geralt’s scalp just enough to draw blood. As he straddles Geralt’s hips, Jaskier’s eyes find Geralt’s own wide with trepidation and slowly Jaskier takes the hand away, bringing it to his mouth and placing the bloodied fingers onto his tongue.

His vision goes white with the pleasure that runs through him.

At once, it’s like he’s woken for the first time. He needs this, he has to take, has to feed—

His fangs sink home into the vein at Geralt’s neck, and warmth blooms upon his tongue, heavy and aromatic as the thick glide of the witcher’s life essence slides down his throat.

Geralt’s body tenses and he swallows a cry as Jaskier suckles his skin, his teeth penetrating deeper as he begins to rock his body against the man held captive beneath him. The sensation is new and yet so familiar, right in a way that nothing has ever been as he uses Geralt’s body to satisfy his own. There’s a voice in his head, telling him to hunt, claim, mate, breed, as he takes and takes what he wants from Geralt.

“J-Jask—” Geralt stutters, but Jaskier cuts him off with a low growl. Geralt’s body is as taut as a bowstring beneath him and something in that sings wrong in Jaskier’s head, like a chord struck wrong in the song at his fingertips.

He will do something about it.

He doesn’t know how he becomes aware of the ability, but he does all the same, activating something within himself like a switch he can turn on at will to draw himself even closer to his victim, to his meal, to his lover—

He invades Geralt’s mind.

Words do not exist here, but instead, it is feeling. Jaskier wills the body beneath him to soften and sate, relax into the curves and points of Jaskier’s body and Geralt complies without fight. Where his hands had been clenched into fists and his breathing labored, now there is nothing but tranquility, a body giving itself over to be used as it will.

Jaskier can hardly stand it.

His teeth rip from Geralt’s body, but the connection remains as Jaskier decides there is certainly too much clothing between them. With a few swift movements, Geralt is bare beneath him, and Jaskier can’t feast his eyes on enough skin. With a hunger he can’t name he decides he must see it all, as if he has been waiting for years, though time does not exist here. Right now there is nothing more than this cave and this desire and this hot, burning need. He flips Geralt over.

Scars, endless upon creamy canvas—and Jaskier knows he must add his own. It’s almost as if he is watching from above as he sees his own claws rake over Geralt’s back, drawing lines of crimson in long patterns. His tongue is quick to follow, sucking the flowing rivers out of deep trenches. Each drink goes straight to his cock and soon enough, Jaskier can’t take it anymore, his teeth sinking back into the vein that bleeds sluggishly from Geralt’s neck.

Time passes and the man below him grows colder, in increments. Still Jaskier is not satisfied. Something claws at him from within, older than the new song that plays in his head on loop, something from before, something important. After ignoring it for as long as he can, it breaks through, however.

Don’t kill him!

The thought feels wrong to his animalistic desire but it stops him all the same. He rises, his fangs leaving skin only for his tongue to lap at the wounds, sealing them as quickly as he can. Geralt’s skin has taken on a grey tint, and this does something strange to his gut.

Fear. He feels fear.

He is ours, but you cannot end him, not like this!

And yet he knows he cannot stop, his body is not ready, has not been fed, has not been filled.

Suddenly another idea overtakes him.

Geralt lies still, his breathing slow and steady even as his heart beats thready and weak. Pity lies somewhere beneath Jaskier’s skin but he ignores it, dragging his fingers through the beads of sweat and blood that leak steadily from Geralt’s wounds, two fingers drenched with it as he looks down to where he is straddled, over the rounded peaks of Geralt’s arse. His hands find themselves beneath the witcher’s hips, guiding them up until Jaskier can easily see the sweet, pink, puckered hole of Geralt before him, and without preamble, he slides two crimson fingers within.

Geralt is still warm here, and as Jaskier works him open, fast from the start with rough strokes, his teeth sink into the curve of his cheeks, small bites drawing more blood from pale skin.

Two fingers is all Jaskier has patience for.

His cock throbs, nearly purple in its fullness as he lines up with the now red rim of Geralt, and without so much as another breath, sinks home to the hilt.

Jaskier can feel within himself the way Geralt shudders though his body is kept still from the thrall that wraps itself entirely around his mind. Geralt’s body only gives—lets itself be taken by Jaskier and all at once he knows this is what he needed. His stomach, his veins full from Geralt’s nourishment, and his cock wrapped up in the witcher’s warmth as his insides batter against the length of him. The slide is sweet and Jaskier pants with pleasure, running through him like sparks set to ignite into a blazing, uncontrollable fire. His claws find purchase in Geralt’s hips, digging deep into muscle and grinding into bone. Jaskier nearly cries out with the deliciousness of it all.

This is what he has craved, every corner of his being suspended in want for years on end, coming to a glorious conclusion, a poetic end as Jaskier gives in to his every want. He plows forward, in and out of Geralt’s hole as he begins to weaken the hold on the witcher’s mind; he wants Geralt to feel this, wants Geralt to know that he is owned, held up only by the strength of Jaskier’s hands—

“Ah!”

The sound is one of pain, and yet it only drives Jaskier on further.

“Jaskier, stop— Stop...”

Geralt fights weakly, still drained of energy from the blood loss, and this of all things is what pulls Jaskier over the edge.

He spills his seed into Geralt, warmth spreading around him as he keens into the night air, a chill settling beneath his skin with a dizzying immediacy. Slowly, it’s as if his body returns to him, the harried internal screams of more, more quieting to a dull hum. He is sated...full. He can’t remember feeling like this in a very long time. He shudders through the residual tremors of his orgasm, dripping the last of his spend into Geralt’s body with a sense of relish. This is wonderful. This is heaven.

“...Jas?”

With the lightness blooming in his chest, Jaskier had nearly forgotten his witcher. With an exhausted smile on his face Jaskier finally looks down, taking in the sight before him.

Geralt is covered in blood.

And with such a sight, something within him stops.

“...Geralt?”

Somehow he had known what he had been doing and yet...the consequences of such had been shelved, buried six-feet deep, flung over his shoulder to be thought of later. His skin is pink and flushed and Geralt’s is crimson and grey-toned. The air rushes out of his lungs in one unhappy push.

“Geralt…”

He tries to be gentle as he removes himself, his limp cock bouncing against his own inner thigh as he flips Geralt over gently and with newly shaking hands, “Oh gods, Geralt—Geralt I’m so sorry, what have I done—”

“Jask…” Geralt’s voice is thin and weak, his eyes barely open even as a small smile appears on his face, and immediately Jaskier wants to slap him for it. “It’s alright...it’s alright. I’m alive, you didn’t,” —he takes a breath— “I’m alright.”

Jaskier looks around frantically, taking in the pools of blood on them both and pales, “You could still die!”

“No. I won’t. Come here.” He gestures to himself, uncaring of his nudity nor Jaskier’s even as Jaskier blushes deeply, regardless of what they have just done.

Jaskier recoils in disgust, “No, no don’t let me touch you, I’m a monster, a freak—” he cuts off abruptly, his eyes going wide, glossy as his gaze is lost in the distance. “You have to kill me.”

Grunts of pain are heard as Geralt tries to sit upright, only to realize it’s a losing battle; he doesn’t have the strength. Still his voice is fierce when he says, “No.”

“Yes, witcher...yes…”

And suddenly Jaskier can hardly breathe for the sorrow that swallows his entire heart whole.

Geralt finally knows how Jaskier feels and yet it comes at the highest cost. Not only did he hurt his friend, the man he loves—but this will be the end. Jaskier lists to the side, catching himself on cold stone with a clammy palm. He shivers in the night air, the sweat on his skin cooling rapidly. He doesn’t much care.

“No, Jaskier, I will not.”

“And why not?” Jaskier cries, tears slipping from his eyes as he whips his head towards Geralt and stares him down, defiant. “That’s what you’re made for—to kill things like me!” Finally, he breaks down into tears, burying his head into hands still smeared with Geralt’s blood. He’s disgusted with himself. If only Geralt would just do it already, he would welcome it—

Arms come around him, warm, even if they lack the temperature Jaskier knows they normally house. His breath stutters in his chest.

“Don’t you see, Jask? Can you really not?”

Slowly, blue eyes search for golden, blazing in the molten light. They are always so beautiful, Jaskier thinks. It will be a pity to know them no more. But Geralt just looks back, his expression soft...fond.

“Can’t you see I’d do anything for you?”

As Jaskier’s face crumples, and Geralt holds him through his echoing sobs, a low timbre tells of how Geralt knew—with Yennefer’s help of course—what would happen...and came anyway.

Jaskier shakes his head in exasperation as Geralt finishes, his voice shaky as he says, “You stupid, stupid witcher. You couldn’t have known it would be alright.”

“I don’t take unnecessary risks.”

“You did tonight.”

But Geralt did it all for him, and he won’t soon forget it.

“Besides, bard, this is the only night you will even show vampiric traits, if you so wish. So stop being so dramatic. You can live your life as you always have.”

Jaskier looks up, eyes tear bright and hopeful. “As I...always have?”

Geralt hums, nodding.

“With me.”

#the witcher #my writing #fic #hurt/comfort #cw blood #vampire!Jaskier #geraskier #geralt x jaskier

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