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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years ago

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When the Chips are Down

part 7

masterlist

hello darlings, due to bribery from my most darling XD anon, here it is! enjoy my loves!--- chaotic puff

Namjoon held her close as they waited for the doctors to arrive, wincing every time she groaned in pain and cursing the doctors for taking so long. What was the use of being the leader if no one came when you called?

“Namjoon?” Seokjin asked, rushing into the room with a tall willowy woman trailing behind him. She almost looked more nervous than Namjoon and Y/N. “Hey, sweet girl.” Seokjin greeted coming to her side. “I heard you weren’t feeling so well. Don’t worry about a thing. We’re going to take good care of you and the little one, okay?” Y/N nodded eyes drifting between him and the woman who was hanging back looking unsure of what to do with herself. Seokjin noticed her gaze and smiled reassuringly holding his hand out to the woman. “This is Hayan. We’ll be getting married soon.”

“Married?”

“Married.” Seokjin confirmed with a smile. “I’m going to check on the baby. Is it okay if Hayan keeps you company?”

Y/N nodded lips trembling as every terrible thing that could be happening to her baby ran through her head.

“Hi.” the woman greeted with an awkward smile. “You’re going to be okay?” She looked to Seokjin nervously, and Namjoon winced at how unsure she sounded. They didn’t need any more panicking people in the room than they already had.

“Really, Jin?” he growled glancing between the man and the nervous young woman on the other side of his wife.

“We were out. I didn’t have time to take her home.” Jin shrugged, smiling reassuringly at the nervous mother. “It might be nice to have a female presence here right, Y/N?”

“Is the baby okay?” She nearly sobbed frantically looking between Namjoon and Jin hoping one of them had an answer.

Hayan immediately gripped her hand tightly forcing the other woman to turn her gaze to her. “You’re going to be okay.” Her voice was firm, sure. “I promise. Just breathe okay?”

Y/N nodded keeping her eyes on the other woman.

“Where’s Dr. Lee?” Namjoon growled glaring at Jin as he carefully looked over Y/N.

“She’s on her way. She’ll be here soon.” He promised.

“Did you hear that?” Hayan smiled trying to keep Y/N’s attention on her. “The other doctor is going to be here soon.”

“Sajangmin.” A new voice greeted bringing everyone’s focus to the woman standing in the doorway. “I’m Dr. Lee. I’ve brought some nurses with me as well to help with the examination of your wife. We’ll proceed if that’s alright with you.”

Namjoon growled under his breath but waved them in. He had no time for formalities now, not when Y/N and the baby were in distress.

“If you could lift Mrs. Kim, we’ll place a sheet beneath her and begin our examination.”

Both Namjoon and Y/N were already panicked and frustrated, and the doctor’s cold formality wasn’t helping.

In the end Seokjin was the one to lift Y/N up from the bed to allow the nurses to place a sheet beneath her. Namjoon made sure that there was a mountain of pillows behind her to keep her comfortable and propped up for the doctor as they began their exam.

Portable ultrasounds were brought out, and Y/N was poked and prodded annoyed that not once did either the new doctor or the nurses spoke to her. Every update was directed towards Namjoon instead of towards her, something that irked both her and Hayan who had not once let go of her hand through all of this.

“It appears to be false labor, sajangnim.” The doctor informed them removing her gloves and bowing to the couple. “I would recommend that Mrs. Kim remains on bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy. The baby is due soon yes?” She asked directing the question to Jin.

“Isn’t that something you should already know?” Namjoon asked eyes hard and cold as he assessed the doctor.

“I haven’t had time to do a full examination on her, and these conditions are less than ideal to do one. There is also very little information on the pregnancy given your circumstances.”

“The baby is due within the next five weeks.” Jin confirmed frowning at how the doctor refused to speak to Y/N who knew far more about this pregnancy than any of them, but it was better to answer the question and keep the conversation moving than to annoy an already frazzled Namjoon who was looking more irritated by the second. He may not have liked the doctor, but she didn’t deserve death… yet.

“I don’t see why she should be on full bed rest. I do agree that she needs to take it easy until the birth though.”

“I would prefer not to risk the life of Kim Namjoon’s child.” Dr. Lee scoffed, crossing her arms. “Full bed rest is my recommendation. Rest and fluids will stop the false contractions. I’ll conduct a full examination of her once everything has calmed.”

“She doesn’t need full bed rest for Braxton-Hicks.” Jin argued glaring at the woman.

The doctor sighed and eyed Jin with distaste. “My job is to ensure the health of the child.”

“The baby will be fine without confining Y/N to bed rest.”

“Her comfort isn’t my concern. My only concern is the health of that child.” The woman snapped glaring at the other doctor. “Not for a foreign whore who disappeared with the heir to the empire.”

There was a loud bang and screaming, but Y/N didn’t know where it was coming from. She was far more concerned with the warm droplets that now decorated her skin. There were muffled voices, but Y/N wasn’t paying attention enough to focus on what they were saying. Her concentration was on the bright red dots that were splattered across the pearls on the top of the dress Namjoon had picked out for her, the same red dots that were splattered across her neck and face. She had to wonder how hard the stain would be to remove. It was such a pretty dress. She would hate for it to be ruined.

“Jagi…” A voice broke through her fog pulling her back to the present. “Jagiya, look at me.” Her eyes focused in on Namjoon. There were red dots on his skin as well. Without even realizing what she was doing she reached out a hand to wipe one of them away only succeeding in smearing the color instead of removing it. “Jagiya,” He cooed bringing his hands up to cup her face. “It’s alright.”

“Dammit, Namjoon.” Jin hissed pulling Y/N’s still rather dazed focus to him. Hayan was limp in his arms. “Did you have to do that in front of them?”

“I won’t have my wife disrespected.” He huffed gathering his shocked wife into his arms. “Take Hayan home and find me a new doctor.” He ordered gently stroking Y/N’s hair as tremors began to wrack her body.

“Try not to traumatize anyone else.” Jin growled carrying his own traumatized woman out of the room. Yes, he was worried for Y/N, but Hayan had to be his first priority right now. She was too delicate for this sort of thing.

“Send Miss In up.”

“Jagiya.” He cooed trying to bring her attention back to him. “It’s alright, jagiya.”

“She’s dead.” She whispered transfixed on the red she could see spreading out on the floor.

“She disrespected you, jagi.” Namjoon cooed, gently turning her head so that she was facing him.

“She’s dead.”

“I know.” He cooed gently scooping her up as Miss In entered the room looking completely unphased by the body on the floor. It wasn’t the first she had seen in the house, and it wouldn’t be the last. “I’m taking her to a guest room to wash up and rest. I want this mess cleaned up.”

“Yes, sajangnim.” Miss In bowed politely. “Shall I bring a change of clothes for you both?”

“Yes.” Namjoon nodded gently shifting her in his arms pleased as she wrapped an arm loosely around his neck, shaking in his arms. “Bring some water as well.”

“Yes, sajangnim.”

Namjoon carried her out of the room and down the hall towards one of the guest rooms. He wasn’t about to leave her in the master bedroom with all that mess. She needed rest and calm, and she wouldn’t find it in the master bedroom, especially not when she was shaking like a leaf in his arms.

“How about a bath, jagi?” he asked, his lips brushing against her hair as he spoke, carrying them into the biggest of the guest rooms. He had plans to convert it into a room for their children one day, for whatever baby came after this one, or at least whatever baby he hoped would come after this one.

She didn’t say anything in response, but he wasn’t phased by that. Carefully, he set her down so he could start running a bath for them both. Hopefully the warmth would help with the shaking, and he was sure she would feel better when they were both free of blood. It wasn’t his first time cleaning up from this sort of thing, but it was hers by the look of it.

He was careful as he drew the bath, no epsom salts, and he made sure that the water wouldn’t be too hot. He did add some lavender oil and bubbles though. He figured they would help relax her, and her comfort was his current priority.

“Come on, jagi.” he cooed, standing her up and turning her around so he could pull the zipper down on her dress.

Normally she would have fought him, but not this time. She stood there frozen, not making any move to stop him or help him. That was fine though. He was perfectly happy to take care of her, and it gave him the opportunity to take note of the way her body had changed while she was away.

He’d have been stupid not to notice the belly, but there were other things he couldn’t see when she was covered up. Her belly was decorated with stretch marks, a result of her growing belly, something he had missed out on. Her hips were fuller now, a little wider to adjust for the baby. And her breasts, they had grown as well, sitting heavy above her belly. He’d always found her beautiful, but there was something infinitely attractive about seeing her bare and swollen with his child. It wasn’t time for those thoughts now though. Now, he needed to focus on making her comfortable and calm.

“Here you go, jagi.” He murmured gently helping her into the tub before removing his own stained clothes and joining her, easing her back against his chest as they both settled amongst the bubbles.

This state of vulnerability had also given him the opportunity to study the new tattoo that decorated her shoulder. She had told him that she’d covered his initials, but he hadn’t seen with what yet. There was a beautiful flower painted across her shoulder blade. He knew that the darkened center of the flower was where his tattoo had sat, but from there, the petals of the flower panned out like smoke, soft, delicate, almost translucent. He’d loved the look of his name on her skin, but he had to admit that this suited her better. He didn’t know what kind of flower it was, but he was going to find out, and if they didn’t already have it in the garden, he was going to make sure some were planted for her.

Namjoon was careful, wiping the blood from her face and arms, gently massaging the shampoo into her hair. He left her alone to let the conditioner set while he quickly cleaned himself up. He didn’t want her being anymore upset by any remnants of blood.

This was the most pliant and soft she had been with him since she had returned home, but it gave Namjoon no pleasure. There was a constant worry tugging at the back of his mind. What if she slipped away again? He couldn’t handle her being catatonic, not again. He was terrified by the possibility, especially when they also had the baby to consider.

“Are you ready to get out, jagi?” He asked, carefully brushing her wet hair away from her face.

She didn’t give him much of a response, but there was the barest hint of a nod, and Namjoon took that as consent.

With all the care and gentleness he could muster, Namjoon pulled her out of the tub, immediately wrapping her up in a fluffy towel. He didn’t want her catching cold. He towled himself off, and darted into the other room to pick up the clothes that Miss In had left out for them before returning to her.

He dressed himself first before helping her into the pajamas that Miss In had chosen for her. Like everything that Namjoon had stocked in her closet, it was soft and luxurious. Only things of the best quality could adorn his queen.

Once she was dressed, Namjoon dried her hair for her, and she let him, not giving any indication that she minded one way or another which only served to heighten his anxiety, but he brushed it aside though in favor of getting Y/N into bed. Jin said she didn’t need full bed rest, but he didn’t want to take any chances. A few days of bed rest would be good for both of them, for her physically and for him mentally.

He had her drink the glass of water that Miss In had set out for her and tucked her into bed. Miss In would have the master bedroom cleaned up by tomorrow, but for tonight, the guest room would do.

“Get some rest, jagi.” He murmured into her hair as he curled himself around her. “I’ll have a different doctor come check on you both tomorrow.”

part 8

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littlemisspascal · 4 years ago

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The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 2

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 3,400

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: plot plot plot, mild descriptions of violence, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, sloooooooooooooow burn – seriously, we’re just getting started so it’s gonna be a bit before feelings are involved, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: The plan right now is for there to be 3 parts of Chapter 1. Tumblr isn’t doing a good job notifying my taglist, so I apologize if I bother anyone reblogging this a few times trying to get it to work. Thank you everyone out there for each like, comment, ask and reblog! The support means the world to me 🥰

Part 1 Part 3

Cross-posted on AO3

The village is a small community with less than a hundred citizens living there total, yet it is visible from miles away due to the bright paints used to decorate the houses. Murals depicting the village’s history and its residents adorn every house with details added by each new generation so that no one is ever forgotten. Back when visitors would pass through, they would always compliment the village’s beauty, but there is nothing beautiful at all about the electric fence the Imps erected shortly after seizing control, emitting shocks harsh enough to kill.

Originally the stormtroopers said it was to protect the village from threats, but nobody believed the lie. The only threat to the community was the Empire. They don’t bother making up excuses anymore, now they like to remind everyone the whole village is their prisoner, usually by a show of violence so unbelievably malicious it stuns everyone into compliance.

There are some horrors time will never erase from your mind.

Juni trees grow beside the fence outside the perimeter, the only species of tree amongst the shrubbery and turu-grass, and they are tall enough for their thick orange branches to extend over the uppermost wire. In the mornings, Ahsoka climbs out your bedroom window, slides down the sloped roof of the house and leaps onto a nearby branch. You follow after her, trusting that she won’t let you fall when you stretch out your hand for her to catch you and lift you up using a bit of Force to give you a boost. The two of you sneak back inside the village using the same tree, only instead of leaping at the house, you drop the short fall onto the ground beneath. Five years and the stormtroopers haven’t caught onto your trick yet.

Except now the tree isn’t an option. Not when you both are half-carrying, half-dragging two-hundred pounds of flesh and metal.

Hiding behind a clump of coyal bushes, you and Ahsoka scout the entrance booth where a pair of stormtroopers dressed in their characteristic white armor stand guard, holding blaster rifles. There are others on patrol, walking along the fence and checking its integrity, gradually stepping further and further out of view, but they will be back eventually. Your window of opportunity is limited.

You adjust the warrior’s arm over your shoulders, quietly groaning when your muscles protest the heaviness. “What are we going to do? Stormies might share one brain cell, but they’re definitely going to notice this heap of metal we’re carrying. And as soon as they find out we don’t have passes, they’re going to start shooting.”

Passes are only given to a handful of the community’s traders each week. It is a three day ride on a repulsorlift speeder to the capital where they have a short span of time to sell their goods and then return home within the week with essential supplies. To ensure no one tries to run away, the Imps set up strict rules. If the traders are late, even if only by a few minutes or due to reasons outside their control, the rest of the villagers pay the price. Usually the punishment is a public beating, but sometimes the stormtroopers get creative and tie their chosen victims to a pole overnight by their head-tails.

Nobody, not even the younglings, sleep those nights.

“We’ll be fine,” Ahsoka answers, firm and confident, gaze fixed upon the gate. “Just follow my lead. I’ve got an idea.”

She doesn’t spare you a second to protest, stepping out into the open and forcing you to follow or else drop the warrior’s body.

The stormtroopers spot the three of you immediately, relaxed postures stiffening with alarm, and you have to remind yourself over and over to breathe, to not let them see any hint of the anxiety buzzing beneath your skin.

“Hold it right there!” One of the stormtroopers orders when the distance between you and them has shortened to a mere three feet. You freeze at once, heart pounding as fast as a thimiar’s seconds away from being eaten. A quick glance at Ahsoka reveals no fear in her expression. She stares at them indifferently, as if she is about to talk about the weather.

“Explain yourselves.” It is not a request.

You squirm, nearly knocking your head against the warrior’s bowed head, on the verge of losing your composure, when you notice Ahsoka lifting her arm.

“You will let us pass,” she says, adopting a suggestive tone while waving her hand in front of their visors.

They respond in unison, seemingly entranced. “We will let you pass.”

You bite your lip as you and Ahsoka pass between the stormtroopers and through the gate, not wanting to break the spell by letting loose the barrage of questions forming on your tongue. What your sister had done was as amazing as it was frightening. She had manipulated them with such confident ease you are certain this isn’t the first time she has performed the trick on someone.

“When did Aunt Shaak teach you that?”

“She didn’t,” Ahsoka replies lowly, casting a quick glance around. “I taught myself.”

Your skin prickles as you also become aware of the increasing number of eyes staring at you. With the sun fully awake and bringing morning light with it, several villagers are carrying on with their daily routines outside of their homes. Most of them seem a mixture of confused and concerned about the stranger, but you spy the Elders looking displeased by the new addition amongst their ranks.

You are not looking forward to being inevitably summoned and interrogated by them.

“How?” you ask, copying her hushed cadence. Then, a pulse of panic blooms in your chest. “Have you ever—?”

“No, I haven’t messed with your mind before. Never even considered it,” Ahsoka interrupts, sensing your worries. “I don’t practice often, but when I do it’s just harmless little suggestions. Like convincing Huno to give the younglings an extra sugar biscuit when he has some to spare or persuading Jaelee to go to bed early when I know she’s been overworking herself. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t really sure the trick would work on those bucket heads since I’ve never tried it on two minds at once before. Lucky us, right?”

You nearly trip over your own feet. “What?”

Is she being serious right now? They would be dead right now if her gamble hadn’t paid off.

Ahsoka pretends not to hear you, nodding her head towards the blue-painted house up ahead. “C’mon, Maar probably already knows we’re coming.”

Maar Vashee has been the village’s healer for a little over fifty years. The purple-skinned Togruta helped deliver you and Ahsoka, and was considered by your mother when she was still living to be a dear friend. Her connection to the Force is especially sensitive due to her intricate relationship with the flora of the planet, using various herbs and plants to create remedies, and as such she developed a type of sixth sense where she instinctively knows when her skills are needed.

Entering her home that doubles as her clinic, you find Maar had indeed anticipated your arrival and set up a cot to place the warrior upon. Once he is laid down, you roll your aching shoulders, biting back a wince as the movement irritates the headache lingering at the back of your head.

The warrior hadn’t made one noise the entirety of the trip bringing him here. Even now as he rests on the cot, his breaths are so quiet you would fear he wasn’t breathing at all if not for his chest moving. You touch his hand impulsively, laying yours over his gloved one. There is no response, not a twitch or spasm.

A sharp gasp of surprise has you whirling around, eyes landing upon Maar standing in the doorway between the clinic and her living quarters. She clutches a glass jar of spotted red herbs labeled nysillin against her chest, staring at the warrior like she is looking at a ghost.

“Maar,” Ahsoka calls out softly, coming to stand by your side. A long moment of silence passes before the older Togruta manages to drag her gaze away to focus on you and Ahsoka, green eyes a bit too wide-eyed and haunted. Your sister’s gentle tone remains when she inquires, “What’s wrong? Do you...do you know him?”

Maar chokes out a brittle noise sounding like a cross between a dry laugh and a derisive scoff. “Personally? No.” She moves closer to the cot, the white circular markings around her eyes softening with what you confusingly identify as sympathy. “I’ve heard stories of his kind though. Years ago, many considered the Mandalorians the only ones capable of defeating the Imperials.”

“Holy frak,” you gasp before you can stop yourself.

As a youngling, your mother used to tell you stories about the fiercest fighters in the galaxy known as Mandalorians. They lived on Mandalore and had a special connection with their weapons, a bond nobody else could understand or mimic, trained to handle guns and knives as soon as they could walk. They defended the galaxy from unlawful rulers and the threat of enslavement, unafraid to spill blood when they knew peace would follow. Your mother told you they never lost a battle. Defeat was a word unknown to them.

At least until—

“Mandalorians were wiped out during the Decimation of Alderaan,” Ahsoka interrupts your thoughts, voice pitched high with disbelief. “And the few who lived were hunted down shortly after. The Imps made sure there weren’t any left to challenge them.”

As if triggered, you recall a detail from your brain glitch, a thought that had crossed your mind when you were flying through the storm. You had been looking for Aldera, the capital of Alderaan.

It’s just a coincidence, you think. But a voice in the back of your head that sounds suspiciously like your Aunt Shaak counters, there are no coincidences.

And as much as you loathe admitting it, that voice is right. Having the image of a mudhorn slip into your brain shortly before you find a warrior—no, a karking Mandalorian of all people—with the same creature on his armor? It is too precise to be a coincidence. Your paths were meant to cross each other.

If only you had the slightest clue as to why.

Maar sets the jar down on a nearby table, then picks up the Mandalorian’s wrist to check his pulse. “That is what we all thought,” she agrees after a minute of counting has passed, dropping his hand. “His armor is characteristic of their kind. Nothing in the galaxy is as strong or valuable as their beskar. Let’s pray to Ai our beliefs about the Mandalorians’ extinction are mistaken,” she nods towards the unconscious warrior, “especially for his sake.”

Realization creates a sickening pit in your stomach.

Regardless of the status of his kind, when he wakes up his whole world is going to be flipped upside down.

Three hours later, not much has changed except the room is brighter, afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window, and smells sweet due to the bowl of herbs Maar left simmering on the table near the Mandalorian’s head, explaining the aroma will cure him of his hibernation sickness as he breathes it in.

“He’ll wake up when the marg sabls open tomorrow,” Maar told you with a gesture towards the potted red-and-pink flowers in the windowsill. They grow all over Shili, popular because they open their petals in a sunburst shape every morning.

Ahsoka comes and goes, blessedly not criticizing your decision to sit at the warrior’s bedside when you have a list of chores to complete—doubled now that you lost your bet with Ahsoka earlier. She intercepts curious younglings hoping to sneak a glimpse of the Mandalorian whose presence has become known throughout the village. Nothing stays a secret long in the community. Gossip spreads as quickly as colds and takes twice as long to get over.

If the stormtroopers catch on, the consequences will be disastrous. For once, Ahsoka shares your fears, admitting she isn’t capable of tricking a whole platoon.

“The Elders aren’t happy,” Ahsoka says in-between sips of bone broth. “They think it’s too dangerous having him here.”

You swallow your mouthful, shaking your head. “I think it’s the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

Averting your gaze towards your lap, you scratch at an imaginary stain on your leggings. “Just a feeling I have.”

Ahsoka leans forward in her seat, pointing an accusing finger at you, causing your head to jerk back up. “The Force connected with you again, didn’t it? I knew you were acting weird before we found him.” She frowns, hurt flickering in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I never wanted to be special, Ahsoka,” you reply honestly. “I never wished or prayed to have visions, to have these random details pop into my head, to feel others’ emotions so strongly it’s like I’m trapped inside their bodies. There is nothing cool or entertaining about it. It’s…” Your voice cracks embarrassingly, forcing you to take a pause. You inhale a shaky breath. “It’s terrifying.”

“I had no idea you were struggling so much,” your sister murmurs, voice soft with contrition.

“How could you when I didn’t even want myself to acknowledge that I was?” you counter, feeling as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders as the truth sinks in. “I tried to ignore it all as best as I could. If not for meeting our friend over here,” you tilt your head in the Mandalorian’s direction, “I’d probably still be in denial. But I can’t ignore the Force this time. Not when the message is this important.”

“What is it?”

“We were meant to find him. To bring him back with us. I think—I believe he’s important. Remember what Maar said? About how people used to believe Mandalorians would beat the Empire?”

Ahsoka’s brow furrows incredulously. “You really think one warrior can defeat Emperor Gideon’s army? The rebels have been trying for years and the Emperor is always one step ahead.”

You can’t help deflating a bit, shoulders slumping. “Well when you put it like that…”

“Have you considered an alternative reason why he’s important?” she asks. When you don’t answer right away, she takes it as a cue to continue, “Maybe you’re right and he is going to change the galaxy for the better. But he could also be a warning. The Imps wiped out his kind, what if they plan to do the same to us?”

Your lips part to respond, only to close again wordlessly. You thought by accepting your brain glitches as messages from the Force they would become clearer, easier to understand. A lantern guiding you through this maze of darkness epitomizing your life.

But you have never felt more lost.

Falling asleep is a mistake.

You didn’t know this when you rejected Maar’s suggestion to head home and sleep in your comfortable bed instead of curling up on her spare cot that squeaks whenever you move. The prideful side of you believed it was best if you were the first face the Mandalorian saw when he woke up because he would remember you and the promise you swore. He would trust you to explain everything to him.

Within a second of waking up, you realize how naive you were to think you had even a shred of influence over him.

The sound of something shattering has you nearly tumbling off the side of the cot, jerking awake with a sudden burst of fear. You blink rapidly to clear the haziness of sleep from your vision, struggling to make sense of what you are seeing.

Pieces of Maar’s ceramic bowl litter the floor along with bits of charcoal and ash. Ahsoka and the Mandalorian stand on opposite sides of the room, staring each other down, poised to fight. The Mandalorian has a vibroblade clenched in his hand, while your sister crouches low, fists raised. You know Ahsoka can hold her own in a fight, even without the advantage of a weapon, but fear winds its way down your spine, cold and slimy, when you can’t help but notice how small she looks compared to him. Not only because he is a few inches taller, but because he also exudes an undeniable aura of intimidation: his unwavering silence, the skilled manner he wields his knife, even the sharp gleam of his beskar pieces reflecting the pale morning light has your chest tightening with dread.

The clinic’s lights flick on right as Maar announces her presence by cocking a blaster pistol. It is the Mandalorian’s own weapon, removed from his holster when Maar examined him earlier. “Alright,” she says to the room at large as she fully enters, dressed in her sleeping robe. “Let’s all settle down. Blood isn’t an easy stain to clean and I’d prefer it if none was spilt.”

You see the moment the Mandalorian decides to comply, shoulders loosening beneath the pauldrons and stance shifting from defensive to neutral, as he processes he doesn’t need to fight his way out of here. The vibroblade is sheathed within his right boot in one fluid motion and it is startling, truly, how quick he transforms from a dangerous threat to a potentially dangerous threat.

Ahsoka is reluctant to yield, staring him up and down for a drawn out moment that does little to soothe your frayed nerves. Only when Maar pointedly clears her throat does your sister finally obey, straightening to full height with a hand propped on her hip, the picture perfect image of nonchalance. In another life she would have made a fantastic actress in a holovid drama.

“That’s better.” Maar nods, satisfied. “Now why don’t we—”

The Mandalorian moves so quickly that you jerk in anticipation of attack, eyes widening to the size of moons as you watch the pistol fly out of Maar’s hand and straight into his outstretched one. Your lungs seize up, a single thought flashing through your mind. This is it, the moment we all die.

Except instead of shooting, he re-engages the safety mechanism and promptly holsters the gun at his side where it belonged. Without saying anything.

Ahsoka’s slack-jawed expression would have been comical if it hadn’t matched your own stunned face. Even Maar, who has witnessed over fifty years worth of shocking spectacles, looks awed by the unexpected display.

You recover first, somehow managing to piece together the right words to ask a coherent question. “Are you a Jedi?”

It is only because you are staring directly at him that you notice the virtually imperceptible tilting of his head. “I’m a Mandalorian,” he answers bluntly, oblivious to how your heart skips a beat. “Weapons are part of my religion. It’s important to earn their trust.” He addresses Maar then, adding, “Especially if they’re stolen from us.”

His baritone voice has changed from when he spoke on the ship. Without the exhaustion wrapped around his vocal chords you are able to hear his normal timbre. Due to the modulator in his helmet, it has a husky quality, an intriguing mix of smoke and honey. But that is not what has your montrals prickling and your spine straightening.

“I disarm all my patients,” Maar replies, back to being her cool, calm, and collected self. “I would have given it back—”

“How old are you?”

You don’t realize you have spoken until two pairs of eyes and an expressionless visor look at you.

The Mandalorian’s fingers curl and uncurl at his sides once, twice. “Nineteen,” he answers after a few seconds of lapsing silence.

“Oh Ai,” Maar murmurs, vocalizing your own thoughts.

All this time you have been thinking of the Mandalorian as a man beneath the amor. A hardened and seasoned fighter who has seen a lifetime of bloodshed and violence. But the reality is he is only two years older than you. Standing right on that thin, blurry line between being seen as a teenager and being considered an adult.

“Who are you?” the Mandalorian asks, glancing first at you then your sister and back to Maar. Frustration and wariness blend together, sharpening his voice. “Why am I here? What happened?”

Ahsoka meets your eye with a question in her gaze, one you don’t have the answer for: where do we even begin?

Series Taglist: @pedro4ever

Permanent Taglist: @promiscuoussatan @vintagesaph @sylphene @over300books @chibi-yuki @theocatkov @oh-no-a-whovian @absurdthirst @freeshavocadoooo @you-and-i-deserve-the-world @lin-djarin @happiestsparkleofall @randomness501 @gallowsjoker @coaaster @captain-jebi @leilei-draws @disgruntledspacedad @melobee @stilllivindue2spite @pointy-sharp @artsymaddie @waywardmando @thisshipwillsail316 @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @grogusmum @asta-lily @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives @sherala007 @mejswho @uncle-kenobi

#Din Djarin #din x you #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfic #togruta #ahsoka tano #the last mandalorian #my fic #my writing #pedrostories

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themysteriousauthor18 · 4 years ago

Text

Android Alastor oneshot [Radiodust]

Saw this art of Angel making an Android Alastor. Thought it was a really cool idea and wanted to make a oneshot of it!

Artist of the AMAZING art above:

The darkness slowly faded away, and something not bright, but a little less dark took its place.

It's vision focused, a blurry image focusing itself down to the finer details. A warmer color invaded his vision, one that his brain came to know as...pink. This 'pink' seemed to cover most of the interior of the room.

And as a pair of eyes looked around, it took note of the tiles on the floor, the cooler temperature, and metallic walling.

A basement.

It's mind concluded.

A small room within a basement, an empty chair seat in front of them, and a desk noticeably messy to their left were what caught its attention. It was unable to turn its head very much, or even it's body. But from its angle, it could barely make out what appeared to be skeptics of a robot to the left wall, just over the desk.

I want to move.

It thought. Pulling against what felt to be restraints, but decided it was best not to. Lest they damage anything.

It's prying came to a halt when it picked up the soft tapping of shoes against the flooring. In the dim lighting, they could see a shadow drawing closer to the entrance of the room archway.

They only patiently waited, eyes focusing in on the outline of something coming to a pause in the doorway.

No, someone.

They corrected.

A human, and one quite disheveled. Blonde hair hastily tied back into a pony-tail. A white labcoat lazily draped around their arms leaving the tank top exposed. Their legs dressed in pink and purple stockings for small black heeled boots to cover their feet.

This human seemed rather distressed. For once they saw the pair of eyes looking at them, they suddenly dropped the mug in their hands causing the brownish liquid to pour out onto the floor.

Hands flying up to cover their mouth and wide green eyes staring in shock, they took a step closer. "Oh my god.." They muttered.

Its head tilted as it examined the human furthur, smiling.

The blonde-haired human was practically jogging in their spot, grinning once they removed their hands.

"Holy shit it worked! O-okay okay okay..." They calmed themselves quickly hopping back into their chair and looking up into those eyes. Their chair swayed with them as they moved, resting hands between their legs.

"System AI begin start-up." They said barely containing the excitement in their voice.

The being was confused as its vision was suddenly invaded by multiple warnings, notifications, and many other things of which they didn't understand. After a moment or two, they cleared away. Leaving it's vision clear once more.

Looking back down at the human who was lightly bouncing in the chair, eyes sparkling with anticipation he waited for them to say something else.

"Alright-do you know who I am?" They asked, expression falling a little as if nervous.

The being tilted their head, eyes tracing over the person's body. Focusing in on little details such as the adam's apple in their throat, hair color, skin color, voice, and many other details.

After a moment, the being spoke. "You are Anthony Giuliani. A 23-year-old male. You are 69% Italian and 40%-"

Before it could finish its sentence the man sprung off from his seat practically jumping for joy.

"Holy shit it works! YOU work!"

"Your heart rate has increased by 20%."

The blonde paused in his celebratory victory and looked to the being. A frown played on his lips as he scratched his head.

"Your tawking like your a robot. Damn...I thought I made you deviant. Shit guess it's somethin' well have to work on." He shook his head moving over to the wall and pressing something.

With a faint beeping the being felt something distracted itself from its back. It stood a little more freely now, nothing, in particular, holding it in place anymore.

Taking a step back, the Italian moved over to pick up the mug he'd originally dropped. Setting it on his desk he turned back to the being, coat lazily draping around his hips as he rested his hands there.

"Alright...first of all, call me Angel. Angel Dust. Got it?"

The being blinked a few times, a small red circle on its temple blinking with them. "Yes. Angel Dust." It repeated in a mono-toned voice.

The man looked annoyed by the tone but said nothing. "Second, what do you want your name to be?"

The being stared, confused.

"That is not in my function." It simply stated.

Angel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay look. YOU are an android. I made you, but you're to..." he paused trying to find the right words. "Robotic. I can't have a boyfriend whose all emotionless and robily."

" 'Robily' is not a real word."

The blonde scoffed. "Well, there's a start." He turned away, being mindful of the pool of coffee on the floor. "I'll be right back, take a look around. Just don't go too far."

"Very well." It stated.

Once the human left, the android quietly turned to look around the room, no longer restrained.

Looking at it from this angle, the android realized it was not quite just a room but a lab more accurately put. Shelves of books and a few trophies lined some of the walls. While for the rest mainly consisted of boxes holding various android parts.

A whiteboard lay on the main wall of the room, opposite to the wall the desk lay in front of. Equations and measurements were drawn all over the board. Some even rough illustrations of a model.

It turned and walked over to the desk, having a clearer vision of the schematic hanging over the desk he could now see there was something written on it.

'Project AL4570R Aka the perfect boyfriend.'

It read.

...[.Decoding.]...

.....[.Result: Alastor ]....

...[Update: Name may be Alastor]...

...[Gender: Male?]...

It turned away, finding that its hands rested behind its back. A motion that felt comfortable for it.

Stepping back over near the entrance, a standing mirror greeted it.

As it looked at the reflection, it's head tilted to the side at the image. Not a human greeted it, but rather a tall.....deer man?

Simply put it was a deer man.

More intricately put, they looked to be human safe for the large pair of red eyes, and deer ears all to obviously attached to the tops of its head. Its hair was a crimson red, the tips being a dark black, it's skin some shade of brown almost greyish.

With the monocle over one of its eyes, black gloves, and the black to red tailcoat, it both wore and made up its body, gave it a more refined appearance. The small bow tie on its neck seemed to somehow bring it all together.

"I'm back."

Its head turned immediately as a machine would to a sound as the human entered back. A mop in his hand.

"Already like looking at yourself huh?" Angel joked, noticing the androids staring at the mirror.

Not replying to the comment, the android turned as Angel mopped up the spilled coffee.

"You had said 'boyfriend'. My knowledge tells me that is a term associated with men in a non-platonic relationship. So am I a male then."

Pausing in the mopping, Angel leaned on its handle smiling to the android. "Well look at you gettin' all smart and shit. Let's see, do you know your name too?"

The human continued to mop up the mess.

"Alastor." The android stated.

Putting the mob aside, the mess is picked up, the human turned towards the android almost impressed.

"Bingo. Now, I'm gonna need to run some tests. See how your internal hard drive is and make sure the pump is regulating that blue blood enough so you don't die on me. That be annoyin' to deal with." The blonde muttered to himself sidestepping the android.

Alastor watched curiously as the human shuffled through his papers on the desk.

Those large red eyes scanned the room once again, landing on something they handed seen before.

A small box sitting beside the desk some old song playing through it. With its interest peaked, Alastor moved over to the desk once more kneeling down because it was rather tall, and peered at the small box.

Angel paused and looked over to the android, smiling a little. "Do you like that?"

The android poked at the box. "My scanners tell me this device is called a radio."

An amused laugh came from the human as he sat down in his chair at the desk. Moved his hand over to switch the dial and by extension the channel.

The android's ears moved back at the sudden noise. "Huh, that's fuckin' adorable," Angel muttered, fascinated. Turning his attention back to the radio, "yeah but I keep it in here sometimes just to listen to music."

The android repeated the same motion, switching the dails. Its eyes growing in amazement.

Angel laughed as the android continued to fiddle with it.

"Maybe your more of a deviant than I thought."

#Android Alastor AU #Radiodust #Angel Dust #Alastor #Oneshot #Hazbin hotel #dbh #Hazbin hotel AU #Fanart writing #Not my art

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leejungchans · 4 years ago

Text

— new girl.

juliet’s masterlist

word count: 1.5k

set in late 2016

summary: in which juliet makes two new friends on her first day at kq as a trainee.

a/n: uM turns out this is the first predebut scenario for juliet!! as always, let me know what you think and feel free to chat with me in my inbox!! thanks for reading and ily 💕🥺 take care!!

“And here’s the final stop of our mini tour, the practice room,” the company staff tells Juliet kindly as they stop outside said room, which is still dark as no one else had arrived yet. “You’re our only female trainee, so you can train with the boys. They’re sweethearts, but you can always come to us if there’s any trouble, okay?”

“Okay, thank you,” Juliet replies meekly.

The older woman smiles in response as she unlocks the door, stepping inside the room to turn on the lights. “We’re a bit early, so you can just wait here until the others and the instructor arrives. I’ll be at the front desk if you need anything. Good luck on your first day!”

The girl quietly thanks the woman, watching her disappear down the dimly-lit hallway before hesitantly entering the practice room. Truth be told, she never expected herself to be a trainee once again, having thought that her experience at SM was enough for a lifetime. But deep down, she knew that if she didn’t give it a second try—hence why she is now here—she’d spend the rest of her life being regretful and thinking about the what if’s.

Juliet also didn’t expect herself to be so early. She was told to come in a little earlier after school so the staff could give her a quick tour of the building before training starts, but she had expected at least some of the trainees to be here already.

Then again, she’s gotten a lot more introverted ever since moving to Seoul, so perhaps it’s a good thing that she has a few moments to herself.

Still, Juliet has never felt this awkward in her life. Scared? Maybe not. Nothing will ever beat the sheer intimidation and fear she felt on her first day at SM, and though she’s only trained there for two years—much less than most of the friends she met there—she already feels like she’s gone through the wringer. Still, being in a new environment with no idea what to expect is unnerving, especially when it’s so different compared to what she is used to.

Juliet looks around the room tentatively before sitting down on the ground, her back pressing against the cold wall. She takes the time to text her aunt that she’s arrived before shoving her phone back into her bag, not wanting to ruin her first impression on anyone by being on her phone.

She doesn’t know how long she’s being tracing the pattern on the wood flooring with a finger when the door to the practice room bursts open, revealing a tall boy around her age standing in the doorway.

Before Juliet can scramble up to greet who she presumes is her fellow trainee, the boy is already beaming at her as he introduces himself. “Hi! You must be the female trainee the staff told us about! My name’s Jeong Yunho, what’s yours?”

“Baek Minyoung. Or Juliet, whichever you prefer,” she says before bowing to him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Juliet,” Yunho tries, still smiling brightly. She wonders how someone can be so cheerful after a long day, but his joyful disposition is definitely not unwelcome. “That’s a pretty name! Did you grow up abroad?”

“Yeah, I’m from Australia, but I’ve been living in Seoul since 2014.”

Yunho nods, eyes sparkling with amazement. “That’s cool! I’ve always wanted to go there. Is this your first time being a trainee?” he asks as they sit, ensuring that there’s a reasonable distance between them as to not make her uncomfortable. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Juliet, and she smiles wider to show her gratefulness.

“No, I trained under another company for two years before coming here,” she says quietly, omitting the name of said company to avoid being asked about her time there.

As though sensing her reluctance, Yunho dances around the topic. “Then you’re already a lot more experienced than most of us, so you don’t have anything to worry about! Did they give you a tour of the building yet?”

“Yeah, but it was pretty brief, so I might forget a lot of it after today,” Juliet admits sheepishly.

Yunho giggles. “Don’t stress it, the same happened to me too! But Hongjoong-hyung—he’s another trainee here, but he won’t be here today because he has another class—helped me, so if you need someone to show you around, I’d be more than happy to!”

Juliet smiles shyly. “Thank you, that’d be really great. Speaking of the other trainees, where is everyone?”

“Oh, they’re still probably at school or on the way here! We can keep talking until our trainer arrives—he’s really nice, so you don’t have to be nervous—or we can just... sit, if you don’t really want to talk. Either is fine!”

Now it’s Juliet’s turn to laugh. “No, no, we can totally chat! I don’t know much about anyone or anything here, so that can be a place to start!”

Turns out Yunho was extremely easy to talk to, and Juliet found that the following fifteen minutes or so passed by as though they were nothing.

It was slightly awkward when the trainee arrived with just the two of them in the room, but that remedied itself when a second boy, just as tall as Yunho, burst into the room, mumbling apologies for being late as the trainer simply laughed and told him to get ready.

The atmosphere was definitely more lighthearted than what Juliet was used to at SM, perhaps due to the jarring difference in the number of trainees in the room. Not that the trainer didn’t take them seriously—in fact, quite the opposite—it was just that everyone was less... tense and had more room to joke around.

The change wasn’t unwelcome, and Juliet finally understood what Yunho meant when he told her she didn’t have to be too nervous.

She does find it slightly nerve-wracking that the second boy would occasionally look at her confusedly whenever Yunho talked to her, but she supposes that it’s inevitable whenever a new trainee joins the company. Hell, it happened plenty of times at her former company as so many trainees would come and go, and everyone would be eager to get to know the new trainees. Some because they wanted to make new friends, others because they wanted to assess and intimidate the competition.

Juliet hopes that in this case, it won’t be the latter.

When they’re given a 5-minute break, all three of them walk back to where their bags are to take a sip—or rather, huge gulps—of water.

“You did great!” Yunho tells her, his bright smile never leaving his face despite how tired they all are.

“Thank you, so did you!”

“By the way, this is my friend Mingi,” Yunho introduces, patting his friend’s back to get his attention. “Mingi, this is Juliet. It’s her first day here.”

“Hi,” Mingi rumbles in his deep voice, “I was a bit confused back there because I thought you two were already friends because you seemed so friendly, but I didn’t recall Yunho having mentioned you before. Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable from the staring.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Juliet tells him, smiling to reassure him because of how apologetic he sounded. “Yunho’s just really friendly. I would’ve been an awkward mess if he didn’t talk to me first.” The tips of Yunho’s ears turn pink from her praise. “Did you two meet here too?”

Mingi shakes his head. “Nope, we’ve been friends for a few years before we came here.”

She can’t help but blurt out, “Do you only have tall friends?”

The two boys freeze, taken aback, though they quickly recover after a few seconds and burst into giggles.

“No, because we have you as a friend now,” Yunho says cheekily. Juliet can’t even find it in her to be offended, not when they just called her their friend. “Don’t worry, you’re young, you still have time to grow taller! Wait, when we’re you born?”

“2001.”

Mingi grins. “See? You’re fifteen? Sixteen? You have time! Plus, you’re not even that short now!”

“Easy for you two to say! I feel like I’m gonna strain my neck someday from talking to you guys!”

Yunho and Mingi exchange looks before crouching down to her height, though they don’t last long before they whine about how the position makes their thighs burn, especially from all the dancing they did, making Juliet giggle.

“Do you wanna get food with us later?” the older boy asks as he stands back up to his full height. “There’s this stall around the corner from the building that makes really good tteokbokki! Mingi and I always go there after training. You know, we gotta reward ourselves somehow.”

The girl smiles hesitantly. “I mean... if you don’t mind me tagging along, then I’d love to join.”

“Why would we mind? We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

“We... are?”

“You sound so unsure!” Mingi whines. She doesn’t know how she saw Mingi as scary earlier, because all those feelings of intimidation she felt towards him dissipated into thin air the moment they started talking. “C’mon, say it with more confidence!”

“We are!”

“That’s the spirit!”

a/n: “yunho dances around the topic” haha get it bc he’s a dancer 🤩🤩 i’m so sorry i’ll go show myself out 🚪🚶🏻‍♀️ anyways yungi best boys and i will not accept alternate opinions ✨✨ please feel free to leave feedback and chat with me, and have a good day!! ❤️

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abbysfrenchbraid · 4 years ago

Text

Beach Day Imagine

alright I give up on trying to find a header for this one, there are no nice pictures of Abby with short hair.

anonymous said: I have a request for a beach day imagine? It could be after the end of the game, just a nice day on the beach heh :)!

This is set after the end of tlou2, Abby and Lev have arrived at the Firefly base on Catalina Island and the reader has gotten to know them over the last weeks. Today they’re taking the two newly healed outsiders to the beach.

This is the first thing I’ve written in a while so I apologize if I’m not fully back in my best form, feedback is very welcome!

Warnings: light swearing, pushing someone under water playfully, mention of injury by being crushed under something heavy (ask to tag!)

about 5.6k words of pure fluff :)

“Hey, look what I got!”

You looked up from the gas canister you were currently using to fill up a truck’s tank and felt a warm rush of happiness fill your chest. Lev had just entered the garage and was holding out a red backpack.

“The teacher gave it to me so I finally have my own. And it’s even my favorite color!”

You stopped pouring the gasoline and screwed the lid back on the canister.

“Hey, you. So what are you bringing in your new backpack, then?”

The scrawny boy jumped on the back of the truck and crouched down, flipping the bag over and dumping its contents on the platform. With quick fingers, he arranged all the items to lie in a neat line, tapping them as he listed: “Water bottle, sandwich, apple, lighter, knife, towel, swimming trunks. Abby said not to take the bow because it’s a secure area.”

You nodded. “Good job, you’re fully equipped.” Catalina Island was a completely safe zone, the Fireflies had made sure of that. During the last few years, patrol teams had combed through the entire island killing infected and now anyone coming in from the mainland had to spend two days in quarantine to ensure their health. Carrying around a knife or gun at all times was just a habit none of the people who had ever fought infected or other groups would ever let go of.

“Lev? You in here?” Lev had been concentrating on putting all his supplies back into the backpack and you both jerked up when you heard the familiar voice in the corridor. It had been weeks and she still had the same effect on you. The tall blonde stepped through the doorway and your breath caught in your throat. She was wearing green cargo pants and black combat boots as always, but you could see the blue fabric of a swimsuit peeking out at the neckline of her grey t-shirt.

“Oh hey, there you are. Are we ready to go?”

“Your hair!” you exclaimed, in awe at the beautiful freckled face that was looking at you with excitement. Abby smiled and instinctively rubbed the back of her head that was now cut short. When she and Lev had arrived three weeks ago, they had looked horrible, dehydrated and full of bruises and cuts, their faces marked by the sun and the pain they had had to endure. Abby hadn’t said a word about her obviously violently cut hair but Lev had told you that she had always worn it in a long braid before the rattlers captured them. You tried to imagine her with long hair but it just didn’t seem fitting for the woman standing before you.

“I got it done today, Mario is a saint. Do you like it?”

Lev squinted at her for a moment, then he solemnly said: “It suits you very well.”

She had apparently finally gotten around to visiting your colleague, another mechanic who also worked at a barber on the side. Most men and some women just pragmatically shaved their heads themselves, but there were always a few people who wanted something more complicated. When Mario had visited you at the medical station after your accident and gotten to know your two new roommates, he had immediately offered his services if they ever wanted a haircut. Lev had declined, explaining that he always shaved his head himself, but Abby had thanked him and promised to come around when she was allowed to leave medical.

You smiled at her and before you could stop yourself you blurted out “You look hot.”

The blonde laughed and even though you felt yourself blushing, you knew you had said the right thing. She really did look hot. Mario had shaved her sides short and fluffed up the top, letting a few strands fall into her face. You wanted to reach out and gently brush them back, but you stopped yourself and snapped out of your daydream.

“Okay, my bag’s already in the front. You all set?”

Abby nodded and put her backpack on the back of the truck, positioning herself to jump on.

“Wait, can I sit in the back? I’ll be careful, I promise. I’d just really like to see what it feels like,” Lev pleaded. You looked at Abby who just rolled her eyes and grinned.

“Alright, kid. But no standing up, and if it gets bumpy you hold on tight!”

She squeezed the boy’s shoulder and grabbed her bag, circling around the back of the car to get into the passenger seat. Lev gracefully jumped in the back and closed the hatch, looking at you with a glint in his eye you had never seen on him before. For the first time since the two had arrived here, he seemed genuinely happy and excited.

You sat down in the driver’s seat and started the truck, maneuvering out of the parked cars around you and giving the porter a signal to open the garage door. Your hand still felt weak and fragile as you switched gears and drove through the two front gates or the base, absentmindedly clenching your fist and stretching out your fingers to get rid of the sensation.

In the corner of your eye, you could see Abby giving you a slightly worried look.

“You okay there? I can drive, too, if you want me to.”

You bit your lip in frustration and shook your head.

“Thanks, Abby. I just need to get used to using this stupid hand again.”

The blonde rolled down her window and let in the salty breeze, leaning her head against the frame and closing her eyes as the sun kissed her face.

“Alright. Just let me know.”

Turning onto the road down to the beach, you sighed and tried to let go of all of your anger and discontent with one long exhale. It would get you nowhere.

You had been lying underneath a car to fix some spots that had rusted through when your lifting jacks had made a weird noise. Even though you had been quick to try and slip out from under the car, you hadn’t been fast enough. The wheels had been taken off to change the tires and as the jacks collapsed, the side of the vehicle crushed your arm, your ribs and left you with internal bleeding.

It had been no one's fault, just a terrible misfortune. After undergoing several surgeries and spending four weeks in a hospital bed, two battered strangers had been carried in and kept you company for the next few days.

The WLF soldier also had a few broken ribs, several cuts and stab wounds. Other than a few bruises, dehydration and the extreme sunburn they had both suffered, the small Seraphite was surprisingly well off, and while you two older women had been laying around in your own misery, he had started trying to cheer you up, help your recovery and motivate you to look forward to the days to come.

Both of you had started carefully training your injured limbs again and encouraged each other on the tiresome, difficult journey back to health while Lev had explored the base, made some friends and working with a trainer to teach others how to shoot with a bow and arrow. Now that you were finally out of the medical wing and able to move without being in excruciating pain, you had decided to take the two out for a deserved day off.

You rolled your window down and inhaled the fresh sea breeze, immediately smelling the salt and hot sand, the earthy aroma of the bushes lining the road and the sun warming up the air and promising you a wonderful day. Without thinking, you let out a scream of joy and laughed into the wind that pulled on your hair and invited you to play. You turned to beam at Abby, who looked amused and a little surprised. Before you could say anything, you heard an attempted wolf howl from the back of the truck and looked in the rearview mirror. Lev was kneeling in the middle of the platform, his head thrown back and his hands at his mouth to amplify his cries. He took a big breath and howled a second time, laughing afterward and stretching out his arms to the side.

A small noise drew your attention back to your passenger. Abby was looking out of the window and her torso was shaking slightly. For a split second, you thought she was crying, but then her little chuckle grew into loud laughter and she whooped, also stretching out her arm and making wave motions with her hand.

“Jesus, Y/N, you’re amazing! This is amazing!”

She looked at you, eyes wide with excitement and a grin stretching across her entire face. You felt like your heart was going to explode. This really was amazing. You took another turn and there it was: the sea. Blue and wild, sparkling like millions of diamonds and dancing in the sun, calling out for you and inviting you to jump into the waves and join the celebration.

You decided to just drive down all the way onto the sand; the truck was made for the terrain and there was no reason to walk if you could just drive up to the perfect spot.

“Lev,” you yelled, “wanna choose a good spot?”

“Yes,” he screamed back, “over there by the palm tree?”

“Got it, boss!” You geared down and drove onto the sand, carefully testing the terrain. The car seemed to have no problem with the ground and you pressed down the gas, whirling up the sand behind you and making Lev scream with excitement. You came to a halt next to a sturdy palm tree and the boy had jumped off the back before you had stopped the engine.

He had taken off his shoes and immediately started hopping to the patch of shade, cursing about the hot sand and letting himself fall onto the cool safe haven provided by the tree. Abby laughed and got out herself, opening her backpack and throwing him a big blanket.

“Here, make yourself useful.”

Lev jumped up and started stretching out the fabric to make room for everyone, then he unpacked his towel and swimming trunks. You grabbed your bag and went over to the two of them, putting your towel down and stopping in your tracks when Abby suddenly pulled her shirt over her head, revealing a sporty blue bikini top. Her abs had practically exploded in only a week; the last time you had seen her stomach had been when she had gotten rid of the hospital gown and announced she was going back to training. Her skin was ivory, a ton of freckles spreading over her shoulders and arms. There were still a few bruises on her ribcage, already yellow and almost completely faded, and her upper arm was marked with a fresh, pink scar.

“What are you staring at? Don’t you wanna go swimming with us?”

Abby laughed at you and hopped around as she tried to take off her tight pants without falling over. You shook your head to get your brain running again and side-eyed her, trying to hide a grin.

“Sorry. You’ve already built so much muscle, it’s amazing.”

The blonde looked down and lightly slapped her stomach.

“Thanks, must be the food here. I’m getting back on track.”

You had already slid out of your pants and quickly took off your shirt now, a little shy about your black bathing suit. But there was no need to worry, now it was Abby’s turn to stare. Her mouth was slightly ajar as she looked you up and down, her hand hovering about her abs as if she had frozen for a second. Finally, she snapped out of her admiration and raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, without the bandages and all.”

While you two had been busy drooling over each other, Lev had already changed into his swimming trunks and now seemed to be calculating how many steps it would take to get to the water and cool his burnt feet.

Abby stepped closer to you.

“You ready, Lev? Bet I can beat you both to the water.”

The boy didn’t hesitate one second. He started like lightning, his red pants blown up by the wind as he yelled “ouch, fuck, ow,” trying to lengthen his jumps. Abby winked at you, then she started sprinting after him.

“Come on, Y/N!”

You quickly took off your socks and ran after them, loosening your ponytail and enjoying the feeling of the warm, soft hair dancing on your skin. Lev had beat Abby and was squealing as he jumped into the waves. The ex-WLF reached him a few seconds later, running into the sea and immediately diving under just to come up again with a scream of joy. She opened her arms as you came running towards her, cursing the hot sand and ready to tackle the blonde with full force.

She turned to the side and dodged your blow at the last second, letting you crash into the waves and jumping on top of you, pushing you under the surface for a second before pulling you up and blowing a mouthful of water into your face. You gasped for air as the two laughed at you, already plotting your revenge.

You slapped Abby’s shoulder but her rock-hard muscles easily took the hit. She raised her eyebrows at you and gave your shoulder a seemingly light push that made you topple back into the water. How was she so fucking strong?! You let yourself float on your back for a second, then you dove under and grabbed the surprised soldier by the ankles, digging your fingernails into her skin and pulling her feet out from under her. Pushing off the sand with your feet, you dragged her legs with you so she was pulled underwater. She managed to free herself and you both came up at the same time, laughing and coughing.

“That’s what you get, shark,” you grinned at her.

“Wait, are there sharks here?” A half-panicky, half-excited voice from further out told you that Lev had swum quite a bit and was now suddenly overcome by the realization that you three weren’t the only ones in the sea.

“Yeah, big ones,” Abby yelled, “you better watch out.”

She winked at you, then she took a deep breath and dove in Lev’s direction, who was facing the opposite direction and didn’t notice the big figure swimming towards him. As expected, he suddenly shrieked, started flailing his arms and fought with something that was pulling him under. When he realized what was going on, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing as he yelled Abby’s name over and over, trying to get her off. Her head broke the surface next to him and she shook her head, water spraying in all directions as her hair danced in the sun.

She was roaring with laughter and held out an arm for Lev to hold on to while he caught his breath.

“Believe me, kid, as much as you love them, you don’t wanna meet sharks face to face.”

He sighed and turned to look at the open water.

“I know. Maybe we can drive out with a boat sometime and try to see them.”

Abby rubbed his shaved head.

“You are unbelievably okay with danger, young man.”

He smiled at her with so much love and admiration in his eyes it made your heart feel like it was going to explode. These two had found each other. You slowly swam towards them and turned on your back again to float, Lev immediately copying you and looking at Abby to do the same.

“We shouldn’t be in the sun for too long, you two are still not fully healed.”

Abby groaned and splashed some water in your direction.

“Let me just have this for a moment, please.”

You felt a twist in your stomach. She had just been having fun for the first time in forever and you had to ruin it by reminding her of what she had been through. Why couldn’t you just shut up and let her be? You turned to look at her and were surprised to see her smiling at you, nothing but warmth and appreciation in her face.

“You’re right, Y/N, I know that. Thank you for taking us here and worrying about us.”

Lev had his eyes closed, but he nodded and mumbled something in approval.

“Come on.” Abby lightly tapped your arm and nodded in the direction of the beach.

“Let’s head back.”

“Can I stay here a little longer?” Lev sounded far away, completely at peace as he soaked up the sun and the salty air.

“Of course, but make sure you don’t swim further out, okay?”

The boy just hummed happily. Both of you didn’t say a word as you and Abby swam back, your mind spinning faster again as she took her last steps out of the water in front of you. Droplets were running down the back of her neck, the curves of her back muscles, butt, and thighs highlighted by the reflections of sunlight on the wet skin.

She turned around and absentmindedly slicked her dripping hair back, showing off her biceps and abs as she stretched and waited for you to come out of the water.

“You think the sand is gonna be less painful under wet feet?”

You stumbled out of the waves with little elegance but managed to stay standing up as a wave crashed around your calves.

“I don’t know, I think we should make a run for it.”

“Fair,” she nodded and held out her hand. “You ready?”

Ignoring the jump in your chest, you took her hand and she held yours tight, encasing it completely with her cool fingers.

“Let’s go!” Both of you started running, squealing and laughing as the sand burned your soles once more. You almost fell several times but Abby’s steel grip caught and held you up every time. Slightly out of breath, both of you reached the shade of the palm tree and let yourselves fall on the towels. Abby still hadn’t let go of your hand and you tried to hold your fingers completely still so she wouldn’t notice and let go.

You were both lying on your backs next to each other, panting and looking up at the green branches above you dancing gently in the sea breeze. Watching Abby out of the corner of your eye, you promised yourself you would always remember this moment. The heat of the sun peeking through the branches, the last drops of saltwater running down your torso, the stickiness of your skin as it dried and left behind tiny salt crystals, the rushing of the waves and the cries of the seagulls. The beautiful blonde next to you, her chest moving with every breath, the little specks of sunlight on her face and her mouth, slightly open as she looked at the sky, deep in thought.

It felt like this was the first day of your life, like you had been somewhere else every day before, somewhere grey and bitter and hard with little joy and too many worries. You never knew life could feel like this, like riding a wave, like soaring through the summer air, easy laughter, and warm touches. You were free.

You suddenly noticed that Abby had turned her head to face you, her eyes burning into your skin like the salt that was prickling your cheek with tiny needles. Holding your breath, you slowly turned towards her and were immediately pulled in by her gaze.

This woman had been by your side almost constantly for three weeks and you had known for a while. What you felt for her was deeper than any connection you had ever had with anyone. She understood you without words and she was never too much for you, as others often were. The blonde made your heart skip beats and your brain often stopped working when she was around, but you still wanted to be by her side every possible second. Through all the pain and trauma and all the terrible things that had happened, you two always found something to laugh about and a way to forget everything for a while, just enjoying each other’s company.

As you finally released the air from your lungs, you could hear the shakiness in your breath and the rush of your own blood in your ears. It was so loud that you were sure Abby could hear it, too. Your fingers twitched slightly and she immediately tightened her fingers around yours. Slowly, her eyes wandered to your lips and now it was you that could hear her breath catch up in her throat. The distance between your faces was small, maybe a hand’s width, but it felt like miles. It was the feeling before doing a handstand or jumping off a high platform, a move you had seen others do countless times but felt impossible to you, like an invisible wall in your chest stopping your breath and movement at the same time.

Abby softly ran her thumb over yours, her hazel-green eyes piercing yours. Your racing thoughts came to a halt. You could count every freckle on her face, every tiny salt crystal on her lashes, the faded scars from past battles. She was breathtakingly beautiful.

Just as she lifted her head ever so slightly to move even closer, there were distant thumps on the sand and you could hear Lev crying out in a mix of joy and pain. You expected Abby to snap back and let go of your hand, but instead she just smiled, sat up and yelled: “Come here, quickly! You don’t want me to have roasted children’s feet for dinner, do you?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Lev speeding up towards you.

“I’m not a child, Abby!”

He came to a halt in front of Abby, quickly glancing at your intertwined fingers before frowning at her. She patted the towel next to her.

“Alright then, sir. Come sit with us, we’re currently being hypnotized by the palm branches.”

“What’s hypnotized?” he asked as he let himself flop on the towel.

“Lay down and you’ll see,” Abby said as she lifted her free arm and rested her head on her hand, staring up at the sky again.

“It’s the feeling of watching something - or someone - and completely getting lost in what you see. Your head gets all quiet and you’re willing to do anything the person hypnotizing you says.”

Her thumb was drawing circles on the back of your hand.

Lev let out a big breath as he solemnly folded his hands over his stomach and looked up at the leaves waving back and forth.

You all lay there for a while, not speaking, just soaking in each other’s presence and the untainted beauty of the world in this very moment. Abby’s touch sent electrical waves through your arm right into your heart, filling your chest with liquid gold and having you fight down an ecstatic squeal of happiness. Did this mean she actually felt the same way?

In the midst of all the joy you felt in that moment, there was a tiny voice in your head telling you that this was just an exceptional situation and things would go back to the way they were once you returned. Abby liked you, that much you were sure of, but was she really willing to go a step further and open up to you like that? Trust someone with that kind of vulnerability?

You swallowed hard, trying to fight down the tiny storm of panic brewing in your throat. There was absolutely no reason to ruin this moment for yourself. You let go of Abby’s hand to prop yourself up on your elbow, turning your body towards her.

There was confusion in her eyes and a slightly worried look.

“Everything okay?” she whispered.

Looking up over her shoulder, you saw that Lev had fallen asleep. He looked like a little vampire, pale from the lack of sunlight on his newly recovered skin over the last weeks, lying stone still in a perfectly straight line with his hands still folded.

You lay back down just a little bit closer to Abby than before, this time facing her completely. You could feel her breath on your lips and couldn’t stop yourself from raising a hand to push a strand of hair out of her face. She closed her eyes for a second at your touch, then she leaned into your hand. You cupped her cheek, drawing your thumb over her cheek and her bottom lip.

“More than okay,” you breathed as you ran your fingers through her hair and down the back of her neck, making her shiver despite the heat.

Slowly this time, you sat up and whispered “Come with me.”

Both of you stood up and now it was you that held out a hand. The Firefly took it and you both hurried towards the water again, trying not to be too loud and wake up the boy in your care.

Finally on wet sand, you sat down and pulled Abby down with you as the water lapped at your ankles.

You took a deep breath, glancing at the blonde’s questioning look and quickly looking down at your feet.

“I’m so glad we finally got out of the base and came out here. You guys haven’t even seen all the beautiful places on Catalina. We could do this more often, I know my way around the Island.”

Abby drew circles in the sand, the tracks of her fingers immediately washed away by every new wave. Squinting against the sun, she softly said: “Yes, I’d like that. It really is beautiful here.”

Your heart was pounding again. What were you thinking, taking her away alone without even knowing what to say? She was obviously waiting for you to tell her something Lev shouldn’t hear. You wanted so badly just to tell her how you felt, but your head was just completely devoid of words.

She had mercy with you. “Where else would you like to take me?”

Her? Alone? You bit your lip, trying frantically to come up with something good.

“There is a bay called Little Harbor, the water is bright turquoise and it’s on the west coast, so you get some amazing sunsets there. There’s a hunting cabin there, too, back from when we hadn’t fully secured the island yet. I could get a friend in admin to give us a check-up mission, let us check the electricity and stock up the hut. Only if you’d want to, of course.”

Abby nodded. “That sounds amazing. I’m cleared for missions starting next Monday, I need to start doing my part anyways. We could go whenever it fits your schedule.”

You smiled at her. “Great. I’ll let my friend know.”

“Are we going to stay there overnight, then?”

You could hear the amusement in her voice. She knew she was making you all flustered and nervous and was just teasing you now so you elbowed her, stifling a laugh.

“It could be arranged.”

She placed her hand on your knee, looking at you to catch your reaction. You couldn’t help but blush and pressed your lips together, trying to hold it together.

“Y/N.”

Her face was now directly next to yours, her breath warm on your cheek again. It took everything in your power to turn your head and look her directly in the eye. Well, you tried to, but her eyes were on your lips again, her tongue quickly running over her bottom lip only to disappear again.

And finally, after weeks of uncertainty, of pining and yearning and trying to get her out of your head, she grabbed the back of your neck and gently pulled you in. Her lips were incredibly soft, cushioning your movement as you pressed your mouth on hers, desperately trying to stay in this moment forever. She tasted like the sea, but her warm skin still smelled like the forest. It always did.

You leaned into her, deepening the kiss as she put her arm around your shoulders and ran her hand over your thigh. Nothing had ever felt better than this.

The blonde pulled away slightly, peeking at you through long eyelashes and licking her lips again.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time,” she confessed, never releasing your gaze.

“Me too,” was all you got out under your shaky breath before she kissed you again, sweet and smiling, placing tiny kisses on your cheeks and jawline before moving up to graze her lips over your nose and forehead.

“I’m so lucky,” she mumbled against your temple. “After everything Lev and I have been through and of all the places in the world…”

She wasn’t the type to speak much about her feelings and this was probably the most you would get from her for now, but it was more than enough for you to understand. You rested your head on her shoulder as you both stared out to the open water.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ve never felt like this with anyone before.” It felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. You knew this was a lot to reveal, but you trusted Abby to not get scared away easily.

“You know, Lev is going to be so relieved.” Abby snorted and turned around to see if there was any movement in your little camp, but the little Seraphite seemed to still be enjoying his afternoon nap.

Your brows almost hit your hairline. “You’re gonna tell him right away?”

She laughed and slapped your thigh before tightening her grip around it.

“Sure, he’s been listening to me debating my next step for the last week. He was so excited for today because he thought you’d make a move.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“He has zero faith in me, you know. He knows I easily face any kind of danger and I always win my fights, but he thought I didn’t have the guts to kiss you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, Miss Warrior, you’re the toughest. I remember Lev telling me something about crane bridges?”

She acted shocked. “I trust him with all my secrets and he just goes and tells you about them? What a little brat.”

You both had to laugh; it was clear that no one loved Lev more than Abby and no one could ever really be angry with him.

“No seriously, I tell him everything. He’s all I got left.” She looked down and smiled to herself, no bitterness or sadness in her voice but a deep appreciation and nothing but love for her partner through thick and thin.

Her last sentence stung a little, but you knew it was going to be a while before Abby would know just how much she could count on you to be there for her. Trust had to be earned.

You spent the rest of your day in the shade with Lev, eating the fruit you had brought, playing cards, reading, and stealing kisses while the boy went for another swim in the ocean. Lev was sad you couldn’t light a bonfire as it got dark, but you had to get back in time for dinner.

Both you and Abby promised him another beach day with stick bread at the campfire as soon as you both found the time again. Meanwhile, he could try to find some friends to come along.

As you packed up your things, the sun was setting behind the green hills of the island and painting the sky pink, orange and purple, delivering a spectacle almost as wonderful as the one going on inside you.

Lev jumped on the back of the truck without asking this time and both of you got in the front. The drive was quiet, all of you deep in thought, reminiscing about the day you had had.

“Thanks again for doing this,” Abby said, playing with a strand of your hair. The windows were rolled down and the cool evening air was dancing through the cabin, filling your lungs and clearing your mind.

“You’re very welcome.”

“I can’t wait for our cabin trip. A sunset just for the two of us,” she remarked, looking at you from the side.

Finally back on the main road, you placed your hand on her thigh. You had wanted this for so long and now you would do everything in your power to win Abby’s heart entirely.

“When do I see you again?” you asked, scared to hear the answer.

“Tomorrow morning? You could pick me up from the gym for breakfast if you want. I’d offer to train with you but I think your doctors would feed me to the sharks.”

You laughed at the thought; it had taken forever to convince the medical staff to let you go today. It was going to be a few more weeks of physiotherapy to get your body back on track.

“Okay. I’m pretty sure they’re making pancakes tomorrow. A commander’s birthday, I think. Pick you up at 8?”

She placed her hand on top of yours and squeezed it.

“I’ll be waiting.”

#abby anderson #abby anderson fic #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #abby fluff #abby anderson fanfiction #tlou2 fanfiction #tlou2 #lev tlou2 #catalina island #abby anderson x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Eye of the Storm 2

Warnings: nonconsensual sexual acts (tags to be added throughout series), implied sexual acts, hints of voyeurism, Thor just generally being a skeev.

This is dark!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a new servant at the palace of Asgard but the job isn’t so easy as you thought.

Note: Apparently I keep calling out @lokislastlove and she doesn’t appreciate me exposing her perversions so I won’t mention her this time and just say I hope you all enjoy the second chapter.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Several days passed in tedium. To your relief, you were kept to the kitchens and the lower floors and did not encounter the king again. You fell back into the routine of the palace and became more accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the place. Mealtimes were always a flurry, whether taken privately or in the feast hall, and the corridors always acquired a new layer of filth before the day was done.

A week after the feast and your brush with royalty faded away. You weren’t so worried about Thor or his nobles, more so about the endless list of chores. You woke and readied in the pale dawn as you did every morning. Melora stirred as you tied a band around your head to keep your hair in place.

Agnes was waiting in the corridor. Usually she was already in the midst of her fretting and you met her with silent surprise. Her lip curled and she huffed as her hand went to her hip.

“You,” She pointed at you. “I’ve finally found a place for you.”

“Oh?” You batted your lashes curiously.

“Can you change a bed? Draw a bath? Empty a pot?” She inquired as she stepped closer. “Surely it is not so difficult, even for you.”

“I can,” You ignored her brash jabs as Melora slipped past you and several other girls followed, praying not to draw Agnes’ attention from you. “Where am I to go?”

“Well, the king is in need of a new chambermaid. These other girls are much too eager for trouble and you are much too tame for it, so you will take over.” She declared. “If I hear one word about you, girl, you will be back to the docks. The king has already dealt with enough mischief from this staff.”

“The king?” You said. “You mean--”

“Don’t act like such a dullard and get to work. If you keep him waiting, well, he is not one to wait. Now go.” She jabbed her thumb down the hall and you followed the movement. She tutted and marched away. She stopped at the end of the corridor and cleared her throat. “You’ve almost a dozen floors to go so you best start now.”

You nodded and spun on your heel. You knew the king’s chambers were on the top floor just past the solarium. You hurried up the first flight but stopped as you were out of breath by the third. You slowed and realised how fast your heart was beating, as if it would come right out of your body. It wasn’t just the running.

By the time you reached the top floor, you caught your breath but your body felt as if it was jittering. You steadied your steps as you made your way down the stone corridor. You passed a noble with wavy auburn locks but he barely seemed to notice you. Another chambermaid exited a door and carried a pot in her arms with a grimace. She didn’t pay you much heed either.

You turned the corner and then the next, the doorway of the solarium shone bright as the sun lit up the windows within and you carried on. You stopped before the double doors, immaculate with carvings of the royal family tree. You stared at it and followed the branches until you found Thor’s name. You shook yourself and knocked.

You waited and heard nothing. You knocked again but there was only the slightest noise from beyond. You leaned in and listened. It was a moment before the sound came more steady and you recognized the soft footfalls as they neared the door. You stepped back but weren’t greeted by the face you expected.

The noblewoman was tall and her cherry locks hung loosely from a loose pin. Her gown was askew and barely kept in place by her crossed arms. Her eyes were wet with tears and she sniffed them back as she nearly collided with you and looked down her nose at you. You backed up and she brushed past you, disappearing down the corridor without a word.

You peered through the open door and heard a chuckle. You entered, slowly, and looked around. There was a wine bottle and two cups on the table in the receiving chamber, droplets of wine around the stems. You moved a chair from your path and jumped as a voice came from the bedroom.

“Hello?” The king called. “Who is that?”

You looked to the door and crept forward. You cautiously looked around the door frame and quickly tore your eyes away as you found Thor in his bed, a silk sheet barely concealing his most intimate part. You stared at the ceiling as you stood straight, rigid and gulped.

“Your majesty, I was sent to--”

“Ah, yes,” He sat up and the silk slipped to the mattress. You kept your eyes up and folded your hands together. “Well, a pleasant surprise. I did request a new chambermaid since my last did find herself straying from her duty.” He moved around and you refused to look at him. “It is more difficult to steal whilst missing a hand but it is also harder to clean.”

You blanched and turned your head away from him and stared at the tall portrait in his likeness against the wall.

“I did ask for one without past transgressions. One I could trust.” He stretched before the window and groaned. “I do hope you are honest.”

“Your majesty.” You eked out.

“Your duties have kept you busy,” He mused as rested his hand above the arch of the window. “I’ve not seen you for a week or more.”

“My duties do often constrain me to the kitchens or the lower floors, your majesty.” You explained.

“They did,” He said staunchly and turned without shame. Your eyes went to the floor and you shivered as you felt his gaze on you. “I should like to break my fast.”

“Your majesty,” You nodded and turned.

“I would request you address me as ‘my king’,” He remarked and you stopped in the doorway. “It would sound so sweet on your lips.”

You turned your head slightly but not enough to peek at his nudity. “My king.” You uttered.

“Ah, see,” He purred. “I shall be waiting. Impatiently. I am… ravenous.”

You carried on through the door and nearly tripped over the rug as you hurried through the receiving chamber. The heat that enshrined you made you sweat and your stomach churn. You pulled closed the chamber door behind you and let out a breath in the corridor.

Did he only long to see you squirm? He needn’t do much more to achieve it.

🌩️

You were grateful when Thor did not provoke you further. You returned to find him clothed and stood by as he cleared his plate and then some. He sent you glances and little smirks but said little. You tried to ignore him without seeming dismissive and he rose at last to leave. He bid you to stay and tidy his chamber and to be there upon his return that evening. The thought of the hours without him was bliss even if it meant you would be working.

You cleaned up the remnants of his breakfast and the night before. It wasn’t difficult to guess at what had occurred between him and the fleeing noblewoman. You preferred not to think of it as you dusted and pulled back the curtains. As you polished the ornaments and straightened the rug and the furniture. You stripped his bed and fetched clean linens before remaking it, then you swept the floors and gathered the garments left in the armchair near the door of his bedchamber.

The time passed quickly and the end of your work was not enough to assuage your dread of the king’s return.

When the door swung inward, you were balanced on your tiptoes as you wiped the engraved frame of a picture. He barely paid you any heed as he entered and tossed his cape on one of the wooden chairs around the painted table.

You tucked the cloth in your apron and retrieved his cloak before it could slip to the floor. His eyes narrowed as he turned to watch you hang it inside the tall armoire. You were aware of his gaze but didn’t let on as you greeted him with a simple “my king” and took the cloth from your pocket.

He sat on the sofa and stretched his arm over the back. You finished wiping down the frame before you turned to him. Unsure of what to do, you bowed.

“Would you like your supper, my king?” You asked.

He shook his head and his eyes gleamed. His fingers played with the seam along the couch and he tilted his head. He smirked.

“It was a terribly long day, I should like a bath drawn,” He said. “If you would, sweet maid.”

You hated the pet name, not that you expected him to use your true name. His tone and the words themselves seemed entirely patronizing. As a servant you should be attuned to his attitude and yet it irked you more than ever. You ceded to his will and passed through to bedchamber.

You entered the bath chamber and lit the lanterns along the wall. You went to the large tub and the golden pump along the other side. You lifted and lowered it several times before the water began to spill from it. Steam rose and you continued your work as you sensed the shadow pass through the door. You peeked up for only a second as Thor entered and watched you at the edge of the basin.

You heard his tunic drop to the floor and you flinched. You watched the water fill the tub, focused on the bubbles that strayed across the surface as it got higher and higher. It could keep your mind from what was happening just across from you.

Thor’s clothing heaped on the stone and his bare feet slapped across the floor. He lowered himself into the tub as the water reached the rim and you stopped the pump. You stood and stepped carefully around the edge. You neared the door, eager to be away, even if just in the next room.

“Stay. It is your duty to tend to my bath, to my meals, my… bed.” He snickered at the last word. “In a manner of speaking.”

“My king,” Your voice quavered and you turned back. “What-- What shall I do?”

“I like some jasmine in my water. It is soothing.” He said. “And some for my hair.”

You went to the long stone counter and searched the bottle. You sniffed several before you found the jasmine. You returned to the tub, keeping your eyes above the water as you flicked a few drops into the water and swirled it around with your fingers. The water moved loudly around Thor’s hand and you tiptoed towards him. You held out the bottle and he chuckled.

“You must wet my hair first,” He said bemusedly.

You sputtered and clamped your lips shut. You tucked the bottle into your apron and returned to the counter. You took the pitcher there and returned to the tub, standing behind Thor so you could not see more than his head and shoulders. He leaned forward slightly as you filled the jug and lifted it over his head. You placed your hand along his forehead to keep it from pouring down into his eyes. He let out a hum and you ignored it.

You repeated the act several times until you were certain his locks were soaked. You set down the jug and dabbed the jasmine on your hands. You rubbed it into his scalp and hair gently and he leaned black into you. When you finished, you rinsed his hair lightly, a single pour, and returned it to the counter.

He got to his knees and took the cloth from the ledge along the back of the tub. He wetted it and your eyes met his. You looked away quickly.

“I cannot reach my back,” He held out the cloth.

You nodded and crossed to the tub and took it from him. You went around his rear. You reached out and began to scrub the thick muscles of his back and shoulders. He seemed to get further away as you did and you found yourself leaning more and more over the lip of the tub.

As you got further down, your feet nearly slipped out from under you as he spun quickly. He caught your arm and placed the cloth to his chest. He smiled and moved closer. He pressed himself to the edge of the tub, the side barely concealing his pelvis. He bent until you felt his breath on your temple and inhaled.

“Rosewater? Lily?” He wondered.

“Servants haven’t any oils,” You said and kept your hand moving in circles as his fingers slipped down your arm.

“You just smell like that?” He asked with a snicker.

You froze and pulled back to look him in the face. He laughed again and stilled your hand. He took the cloth from you.

“Finally,” He winked. “I see those eyes again and my memory does not disappoint.”

You didn’t know what to do or say. He let your hand go and you backed away.

“I’ll need a towel when I finish,” He said as he turned and scrubbed his hard stomach.

“My king,” You breathed.

You went slowly to the short shelf by the wash basin and took a large folded towel from the stack. You put your back to the wall and lowered your chin as you listened to the water ripple around Thor’s movements. It was a time before he called for you and it took you a moment to tear yourself away from your brief haven against the stone.

He stepped out of the tub before you reached it and you gasped at his brazenness. You stared above his head as you unfolded the towel and offered it to him. There was a silence and he did not move.

“Well, dry me off,” He bid. “Or I will grow cold.”

Your lips parted as the order left you speechless. All you could do was obey. You wondered if you were mistaking the situation. Perhaps his former chambermaid had done the same without pause; without doubt. You lifted the towel to his arms and began to rub him dry. His shoulders, his chest, you moved around him and did his back, avoiding the inevitable and daunting lower half.

You lingered around his back and he turned to you. You winced as he grabbed your hands and pulled the towel down to his pelvis. He rested your hands against his hips and wiggled just a little. You stared to his left and wiped his thighs dry. The towel caught on his member and you tried not to show you noticed it. Or the way it twitched as you tried to untangle the fabric.

You bent to get below his knees and his feet and he turned for you to do the back. You stood straight and he swept the towel away from you as he angled around just enough for his arousal to be visible along the bottom of your eye line. He slung the towel around him but made no hurry to close it.

“You should fetch my supper now.” His voice was gristly as the towel brushed against his cock. “Enough for two. I am expecting company and it would be rude not to share.”

You nodded and left him so quickly you nearly collided with the door frame. You rushed through to the receiving chamber and by the time you reached the corridor, you were shaking. You weren’t imagining things, he was doing… something. You just didn’t know what.

The kitchen didn’t keep you long knowing you came for the king’s supper. You resented their rare expediency and the trek back up to Thor’s chamber was torture.

You knocked before you entered and sure enough, Thor’s company had arrived. Her long black hair was straight and sleek and her shoulders were bare above her pale dress. You greeted them with a bow and set the platter down and poured their drinks.

You neared the door but didn’t even touch the handle before you were stopped.

“I did not dismiss you. You will see to our meal before your night is over.” Thor ordered.

“My king,” You accepted as he began to split up the hanks of meat and roasted potatoes.

The noblewoman trilled as she picked at the spread and drank deeply from her wine. Thor was barely concerned with his own food as his arm wrapped around her and he muttered in her ear. The act made her giggle louder and touched his arm coyly. You stared at the painting of a lion behind the sofa and tuned out their lurid voices.

A loud belch drew you from your trance. Thor’s guest stood and his hand slapped her ass as she did. She gave a coy look and he nodded to the bedroom door. She dragged her fingers along his shoulder.

“Wait for me,” He said. “I won’t be long… you best be ready.”

Her hips swayed as she traipsed into the bedchamber and you glanced at the double doors longingly. Thor stood and stretched. The collar of his tunic was low on his chest and his trousers barely clung to his hips. He took one last drink of wine and rounded the table. He crossed to you and planted his hand on the wall over your shoulder.

“Sweet maid,” He touched your apron. “You will tidy our mess and then you will return and wait until I need you next.” He bit his lip and straightened up. “I might just undo all that work you did in the bath chamber.”

“My king,” You forced out as you tried to dissolve into the wall.

“I will know if you leave and you do not want to disobey me,” He warned. “Not on your first day.”

You nodded and he backed away. He stayed facing you as he neared the bedchamber door and finally turned to leave. You touched your chest before you recovered. You went to the table and stacked the dishes on top of the platter. You left the half-finished wine just in case and went to leave the leftovers with the kitchen.

You returned quicker than you wanted to but Thor’s warning echoed in your head. As you entered, you were stunned by the sounds that met you within. The woman’s voice had turned dusky and mingled with the king’s. You held your breath as you tried not to hear but it was impossible not to. You stayed by the door, as far as you could from the other room.

Soon the woman was louder and louder, her moans turned to shouts, of pleasure or pain you could not tell. Thor’s grunts came between her laboured whines and you clasped your hands tightly as you kept your head down. It was humiliating because he knew you could hear. Was he loud because he wanted you to or for his own pleasure?

It seemed to go on forever and it was quiet for a time. A weak whisper and a gruff snarl in return. Then it started again and the bed knocked against the wall. The woman wasn’t so loud but only because she sounded weaker; tired. At the next lull, the king emerged, naked, but you could only stand there and hope he’d forgotten about you.

“Wine,” He demanded.

You scurried over and filled his cup. He took it and drained it sloppily, licking his lips as he slammed it back down.

“Almost done,” He growled as his eyes burned down at you. “I will need you to see her out soon.”

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #dark thor x reader #dark!thor x reader #eye of the storm #fic #series #dark fic #dark!fic #au #mcu #marvel

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crazyasacupcake · 4 years ago

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A Clown Called Saviour

Here's a fic inspired by the Harvest Festival scene from The Only Thing Worse Than Me Is You by Lily Anderson :D

This work includes mentions of clowns, vomit, and panic attacks, so if you have coulrophobia, emetophobia, or are triggered by panic attacks in any way, then I would suggest not reading this piece.

Genre: Light Angst, Comfort, no romance

Summary: When someone has a breakdown in the middle of a meant-to-be fun Haunted House attraction, one scare actor steps up to help lead the visitor out safely, but maybe they should have just left it alone.

Characters: G/N Reader, Tooru Oikawa, Shoyo Hinata, Kei Tsukishima, Tobio Kageyama

Word Count: 2989

You can also read the work on Archive of Our Own!

You wring your hands as you wait outside the haunted house, the fake (were they fake?) screams emitting from inside making your stomach churn. Your friends didn’t seem too bothered, but then when did teenage boys ever show their fear?

“This is stupid,” Tsukishima says as he counts the correct amount of tokens out to pay for your tickets. “Why are we doing this again?”

“Hinata’s never been in one before,” the other surly one, Kageyama, points towards where Hinata is trying to contain his excitement, jumping from foot to foot in front of the sign.

“Hey! They haven’t been in one either!” The ginger one snaps his head around angrily, pointing towards you.

“I don’t particularly want to go in one.” You wish there was anything you could say that would make them let you stay outside, but you had promised; you had told Hinata that if they got past the first round of the Spring High Prelims, then you would personally take him to a haunted house. You hadn’t meant anything by it – not that you didn’t believe they would get through the first round, more that you didn’t believe Hinata would remember the promise you had made before nodding off on the bus. You wanted to die when he had entered the gym that Friday with the flyer for the Halloween Fair in the park, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say no to his beaming smile.

“Oh, come on! It’s not going to be that bad!” He gives you a wide grin, and you want to smile back but you know that it will just come out as a grimace if you try. Instead, you just stare at him, your lips set in a tight line.

“How come Tadashi doesn’t have to go in?”

“The last time Tadashi went in a haunted house, he threw up on one of the scare actors. I think it’s best for both him and everyone else that he stays outside.” Tsukki drops the unneeded tokens into his jacket pocket.

“What if I throw up on a scare actor?”

“Then we’ll know to leave you outside with Tadashi next time.”

He marches over to the attendant’s booth, where a bored teenager rests his head on the palm of his hand, where he exchanges Tsukki’s twelve tokens for four shiny black tickets (“Three tokens per ticket, at 700¥ per token! That’s practically robbery!”).

With a deep, shaking breath, you follow your boys into the house, giving Tadashi one final timid wave before stepping into the black of the first room.

If you weren’t standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Hinata, you’re pretty sure you would have lost him immediately. Most of the time when people enter darkness, they say they ‘can’t see two feet in front of them’, but you can barely see an inch. You can hear breathing: loud, rattling breaths merging with the sound of the blood pounding in your head. You feel like you were going to pass out.

“Move,” Tsukki pushes you from behind, not too hard but you stumble anyway. Your throat feels dry – was it always this hot in here? You clench and unclench your hands, the clamminess of your palms just making you more uncomfortable.

The first scare actor pops up, in a Michael Myers mask, wielding a chainsaw. If you were in a sound state of mind right now, you would tell yourself that this person is completely inaccurate to the character, and shouldn’t be a scare actor at all due to their lack of dedication. However, all rational (if that thought would have even been rational in the first place) thought has already left the building, and instead you ball your eyes shut and barrel past him with a scream at a pitch you didn’t even know you could hit.

You run blindly, feeling your shoulder collide with a doorway, only opening your eyes when the slight momentary pain jars you from your panic.

There are lights here, in this small corridor, bathing everything in a gross green tinge, and when you turn around you can’t see any of the boys behind you. You stick your head through the doorway, leaning out into another thin corridor. There are three other doorways lining the wall, and you realise they must have gone through a different one once you’d bolted. You realise that the only way to meet up with them is at the end, as you have no way of knowing which doorway they picked.

You look back to the corridor, your footsteps suddenly ten times heavier now that you didn’t have the two six-foot tall bullies behind you. Even your lungs feel heavy, every breath like you’re taking in water instead of air, like you’re about to drown.

Your head hurts.

Why did you agree to this?

Finally, you reach the end of the green corridor, swallowing thickly as you poke your head slowly into the room.

It’s as if your heart stops.

There are five of them (Scare actors, you tell yourself. They’re just actors.) stood in different areas of the room. It’s difficult to remember they’re just scare actors when they’re all stood facing you, wearing matching killer clown masks and outfits. The one closest to you is stood behind a pile of cardboard boxes, and you’re thankful that there’s at least something separating them from you. It’s as if they’re leering at you, even though the mask is fixed into the twisted smile of the clown; they’re looking at you as though they’re hungry, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

You edge along the wall, keeping your eyes on the one behind the boxes the whole time, until you realise you need to watch the others, too. Your hand shakes as you use it to feel your way along the wall, your stomach dropping when you have to take that first step away from the security the wall provided.

You can see the doorway, it’s straight ahead, just keep your eyes on the doorway and it’ll all be fine.

The one behind the boxes shifts their body so that they’re facing you, but you don’t look at them, closing your eyes for a second to tell yourself to just calm down.

They can’t hurt you, they can’t touch you, they’re just teenagers, just actors being paid to have a good time scaring other teenagers.

You’re halfway through the room, the door is right there, just don’t look at them.

The one to your right takes a lurching step forwards and you jump, tripping over your feet and falling backwards, landing hard on the floor. Your hands burn where they hit the concrete, and your arse is now throbbing, but your eyes are squeezed shut, your face twisted into a grimace as you try not to cry.

Your eyes are shut so tightly that stars begin to swim in the blackness, and you try to focus on the patterns and not the sound of the clown’s footsteps.

You press your hands over your ears, trying to tune it all out, trying to convince yourself that you’re still with the boys and you didn’t get separated – or better yet, that you’re waiting outside with Tadashi with a cup of tea warming your hands.

Your breathing is coming too hard, too fast, and you feel like your chest is about to explode, the pounding of your heart shattering your ribcage as it bursts from your body. You can’t get a full breath, the air stopping dead in your throat just before you can get a full lungful. You think you might pass out, your whole body feels as though it’s on fire, and you just wish that it was over, that you’re already outside, that you’ve completed the house without having a breakdown, that you don’t feel like you’re about to be murdered by a teenager in a clown mask.

The footsteps stop, and there’s a moment where you think about opening your eyes but you know that if you do you’re going to see the clown leaning right in front of you.

They’re just actors, they’re just teenagers, they can’t touch you, they can’t hurt you, they just want to scare you.

You swallow, almost gagging from the dryness of your mouth.

There’s wet on your cheek, you notice. You’re crying, the tears dripping hot and heavy down your face in your blind panic, and only when you notice the wetness of your face do you tune in to the sound of your loud sobs.

The footsteps to your right retreat, the clown slinking back to their original position.

Something touches your shoulder, and your brain goes haywire.

They’re not allowed to touch you so what just touched you was that a real clown ohmygod am I about to die what if he stabs me why is he touching me why is he touching me WHY IS HE TOUCHING ME

The thing shakes you slightly, enough to get you to open your eyes the tiniest bit before shutting them again once you see the mask to your left. They’re crouched down, balancing their weight on the balls of their feet beside you. They touch your wrist and you flinch, before they gently pry your hand away from your ear. You open your eyes again, focusing instead on the balloon that’s tied to their wrist, bobbing in the air with each movement of their arm.

They stand up, offering you their other hand to help you up, but you ignore it and stand up on your own. They nod at the clown across from them, and then they nod you towards the doorway.

You don’t move, swallowing once again, making sure you don’t look at the mask. You wipe your cheek with the heel of your hand.

The clown offers their arm to you, and when you don’t take it they make a flourishing bow gesture before offering it again. You giggle weakly, your head throbbing, and the clown points at you before giving you a thumbs up.

You take their arm, and they walk you out of the room, into another dim corridor.

“Thank you,” you whisper, surprised at the hoarseness of your voice. The clown just shrugs.

“Are you not allowed to talk?” The clown shakes their head, and you hear a bell ringing that must be attached to their collar. “I like the bell. It’s a nice touch.”

You stay silent for a moment, until you step into the next room and a man in a leather apron jumps out with a cleaver. With a squeal, you turn, curling into the clown’s side as you try to make yourself as small a target as possible, squeezing their arm a little bit too much. You’re surprised at the muscle you can feel through the costume; it reminds you of the times you’ve hugged any of the boys on your team when they win a game. It’s weird to think that an athlete would be doing something like this in his free time (as though your athlete friends aren’t currently in the same haunted house, albeit for a different purpose).

The clown clears their throat, and when you look at them, they make a gesture with their hand, one that seems to say if you talk it might help you calm down.

You think for a moment, unsure of what to say. “I’m only here because I promised my friends that if they got through the first round of the volleyball tournament then I’d go with them. And then we got split up. And Tadashi is only allowed to stay outside because he threw up on a scare actor once, so because I haven’t thrown up on a scare actor that means I had to go in.”

The clown makes a show of laughing silently, their shoulders shaking as they clutch their chest with their other hand.

“But I just hope it doesn’t worry Hinata too much because I know he can talk a big game but he’s really a huge wuss – I mean, before our practice game against Aoba Johsai he was jumping off the walls until it actually came about, then he threw up on the bus and was mainly the reason we lost the first set – don’t tell him I said any of this will you?” You don’t know why you ask – there’s no way they know who Hinata is.

The clown shakes their head, making an exaggerated cross over where their heart would be.

Another scare actor jumps out with a shrill scream, and you close your eyes with a shaking breath before continuing.

“I think Aoba Johsai is our biggest problem – we only won the practice match because their normal setter wasn’t there for the first two sets, and even then, it was a close call. And then we played them during the Inter-High in full sets, but we still lost in the end. I just hope that all the work they’ve put in over summer pays off, and I hope they don’t let him land any service aces, the cocky bastard.”

You enter the next room – how many rooms are there? The clown tilts their head slightly, like a puppy dog.

“The Aoba Johsai setter, Tooru Oikawa. He’s a complete jerk. At least the other teams we play are likeable, he’s like a movie villain – especially in the way he seems to exist just to annoy Kageyama.”

Their arm tenses, but you either don’t notice or you don’t care.

“He’s so full of himself – did you know he was almost late to their first game in the Inter-High because he was too busy flirting with his little fangirls. And that’s another thing! Who has fangirls as a high school athlete? No wonder he’s so self-centred, they’re just inflating his ego all the time. God! He thinks he’s the best person in the world, but he’s not; just because you can serve really well and set really well and spike really well doesn’t mean that you’re God’s gift to volleyball.”

They nod slowly. You’re almost through the last room – you can see the torn sign on the door that reads You Made It… Or Did You?

“He’s infuriating! He’s just so smug and you can just tell that he thinks he’s the smartest person ever – well, Tooru Oikawa, you aren’t a genius.” You’re surprised at how angry Oikawa makes you, but you’re thankful for the anger that thinking about him creates as your fear is basically non-existent at this point.

The clown shoves the door open with their left shoulder, holding it open for you to be able to slip out into the cold night air, which feels lovely against your warm skin.

They do another exaggerated bow, the balloon bobbing and blowing about in the breeze. They turn to go back into the house, back to their original room.

“Wait!” You’re surprised by the sudden force in your voice. The clown stops, and turns back towards you, tilting their head to the side in question. “Will you be at the preliminaries on Thursday?” A nod. “Come and find me and I’ll buy you a water for your trouble.”

You pause, watching them, waiting to see if they’ll reply. They don’t.

“Thank you. Truly, thank you, so much.” You let out a short laugh. “Who would’ve thought my saviour would be a murderous clown? Thank you once again, Hero Clown.”

The clown makes one final bow, the bell tinkling, and gives you a wave with a wiggle of their white-gloved fingers. Then, they turn for the last time and disappear back into the house.

“Where did you go?” Tsukki’s voice makes you turn around, and you see the three of them stood there watching you. Tsukki looks bored. Hinata isn’t wearing his jumper anymore.

“Where’s your jumper, ginger?” You ask, ignoring Tsukki’s question and walking over to meet them so you can begin your exit out of the park. He holds up a plastic bag that he didn’t have before.

“Hinata threw up on a scare actor.” Tsukki answers. “That means that next time Hinata can wait outside with Tadashi.”

On the twenty fifth of October, you stand inside the Sendai City Gym with the boys, cradling three of their water bottles against your chest. All of you are staring at the schedule as you wait for your first game – the game against Johzenji – to begin. Nishinoya sits on the floor in front of you as he stretches, before he yawns and holds his hand out for one of the bottles. You roll your eyes, unsurprised from his lack of a please.

Before you can pass him one, though, someone behind you grabs one of them from your hands, and you wheel around in shock to see Tooru Oikawa of Aoba Johsai drink half of the bottle in one go.

“What…is wrong with you?” You snap, snatching the bottle back from his hands. “Who do you think I am, your servant? I’m not one of your stupid little fangirls! Drink your own team’s water!”

He tilts his head with a smirk, but you can tell there’s something weird about it. Maybe it’s the way his eyes aren’t as bright as they normally are whenever he teases the opposition, maybe it’s how it’s more like a sneer than a smirk.

Nishinoya stands up, and you put your arm out to keep him at bay. You don’t need the feral chihuahua to back you up against Tooru Oikawa of all people.

“Don’t worry about it, Little Karasuno-chan. Your debt is paid.” Oikawa’s words are laced with… something.

“My debt? I don’t know what you’re on about, mister, so you’d better-”

The realisation slams into you like a truck going a hundred miles an hour.

“Come find me and I’ll buy you a bottle of water for your trouble.”

You feel your stomach drop.

Oh no.

#haikyu x reader #haikyu fanfiction #tooru oikawa #oikawa tooru #g/n reader #shoyo hinata #hinata shoyo #tsukishima #kei tsukishima #the only thing worse than me is you #lily anderson #tobio kageyama #karasuno reader #karasuno #aoba johsai #also on ao3 #ao3 link #comfort #light angst

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send-me-your-hcs · 4 years ago

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Sweeter Than Sugar

a collab fic with @ceratonia-siliqua

Summary: Tony is a man of refinement. Only the best, the highest quality specimens get added to his collection. Peter, a beautiful and very rare male omega, quickly becomes his favorite of all his pets. The perfect omega deserves an equally-perfect alpha. (Or: An a/b/o au where pet owner!Tony forcibly mates Peter and Bucky together for his own enjoyment.)

Warnings: Underage, noncon, a/b/o au, forced mating, dark!Tony, confinement, forced pet play dynamics, forced mating/in heat cycles, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

Read on ao3.

Peter’s kennel is easily the nicest.

Tony takes good care of all his pets, mind you. Unhappy specimens make poor test subjects.

But the ones that catch his eye, his favorites, they get special treatment.

Peter is easily one of them. His precious pet. His little princess. Peter’s the newest addition to his collection, but oh, Tony loves him already. Peter isn’t kept in the basement with the others. Peter’s room is in the middle of Tony’s spacious penthouse suite.

It faces the living room and the floor-to-ceiling windows beyond it. The back wall of the living room has been replaced with a pane of glass, revealing the room behind it, Peter’s pretty little cell. Tony pulled out all the stops for his youngest, littlest, sweetest omega. The only boy in Tony’s whole collection. Male omegas are rare; ones as delectable as Peter Parker are even more so, and deserve the best treatment possible.

Tony stands on the other side of the glass, smiling as he surveys the room. In the center, Peter’s luxurious pet bed sits like a centerpiece. It’s only about a foot off the ground, oval-shaped, like most pet beds are, but large enough for ten pets Peter’s size to fit comfortably. The round mattress is set in a hardwood frame that matches its size and shape, the lip of the frame rising an inch or so higher than the edge of the mattress, enclosing it, keeping it nice and secure where it belongs.

Hanging from the ceiling above the bed is a circular canopy, draping beautiful, sheer-white curtains over almost the entire bed. Twinkling fairy lights are strung up within the white canopy, making it glow and glitter like the pretty little princess bed it is.

There are two doors to Peter’s kennel. The first is on the right-side wall, leading to the rest of Tony’s penthouse. Tony keeps this door locked always, though Peter can’t reach it anyway. The second door is in the back corner, leading to the boy’s small ensuite bathroom. Peter’s chain gives him more than enough room to reach the toilet and bathtub - in fact, he can reach everything in the room, except the exit door.

Peter’s bed faces the glass wall, faces the living room and the windows. Tony stands on the other side of the panes and watches the little thing, timidly curled up in his mountain of baby blankets and pillows. Beside Peter’s bed is his toy chest, a decorative white box full of books, games, toys he thought the boy might like. Peter’s only opened it once since he was brought here and didn’t touch a thing inside.

On the other side of his bed is his little table, a hand-carved coffee table Tony repurposed for his pet to eat at. The table only comes up to Peter’s knees, though Tony made sure to place a plush pink cushion on the floor in front of it for his baby to sit on. Peter’s pink, sparkly metal dishes are magnetically stuck to the top of the table, the pull strong enough to ensure Peter can’t cheat and lift the bowls to eat from. His pet has to kneel and eat from his dishes like the precious little puppy he is.

The walls are somewhat decorated; Peter’s name is spelled out in pink wooden blocks hanging on the otherwise grey back wall. More fairy lights frame both doorways, making the room feel warmly-lit and feminine. A pastel rug is spread out on the marble floor in front of Peter’s toy chest, matching the white and pink color scheme of the rest of the room. It’s a small, simple kennel, but easily the nicest one Tony’s designed.

Peter is a shy little thing. He tried to hide in the bathroom at first, but Tony simply turned the AC up in the small room to freeze Peter out. Now, the boy spends hours sitting in his pretty pet bed, clawing at his collar, a charming metal band around his neck with a pastel-pink ruffled bow and a little bell in the front. At the back, Peter’s chain trails from his collar to the left wall, furthest from the exit door, where it’s fused to the cement beneath two layers of gunmetal grey paint. Alpha-tested and unbreakable. Peter yanks at it until his neck is pink and swollen and Tony’s mouth is watering.

He chooses Peter’s mate very carefully. Any official, by-the-books mating service worth its salt would be manically concerned about pairing Peter up. In general, omegas are small, petite little things, averaging around 5’2 in height and hardly passing 100lbs. Tall omegas stand at a whopping 5’5 or 5’6, whereas short omegas, like his darling little Peter, sit pretty at 4’11 and need three full meals a day to weigh 95lbs.

An authorized matchmaker would never consider an alpha taller than 6’2 for an omega as tiny as Peter. Alphas tend to be the polar opposite to omegas in stature; with increased muscle mass and superior height, almost all alphas tower over omegas and betas alike. It’s not unusual to find hulking, intimidating alphas nearing 7’5, weighing in at 300lbs of pure deadly muscle. Since alphas tend to have knots proportionately sized to their height and weight, an alpha anywhere near that size would almost certainly be a death sentence for Peter.

Tony doesn’t choose one quite that big.

He does pick an impressive specimen though. He considered Steve, blond and gorgeous, 6’11 with a cock long and thick like a bat. Steve is sweet enough to deserve his prized Peter, but he lacks a certain...unique quality, that Tony’s after. A certain...animalistic trait.

He considered Thor, too, who is closer to his ideal mate: standing at an impressive 7’1 and 315lbs of biceps and abs, Thor is both kind and vicious, a warrior and a lover all at the same time. Sadly, though, he is truly too big; his massive cock, while impressive, swells up to the size of a football when he knots, and poor itty bitty Peter simply would not survive such a breeding.

But then he considers Bucky.

Bucky is beautiful. A truly breathtaking animal. He’s merely 6’9, the lower end of average height for an alpha, but he’s thick in all the right places. He has the muscle, the strength. He exudes the animalistic qualities Tony’s after. Bucky, simply put, is a beast. Cold and hard and difficult to break. He doesn’t have the gentle disposition, the sweet nature Tony wants Peter to be showered with, but his massive pair of balls hangs heavy and foreboding between his legs, and the sight of them always makes Tony’s mouth water. Oh, how he’s waited so long to watch Bucky empty that massive set of balls inside a terrified, trembling omega.

Peter deserves the sweet, compassionate embrace of a caring alpha afterwards, however, and Bucky has shown zero sign of being able to provide such a service.

Oh well. Tony will just have to comfort his little pet himself.

Peter scrambles away from him when Tony enters his cell. The little thing is skittish like a stray cat and it’s ceaselessly adorable. Using the chain fastened to the wall, Tony reins Peter in like a cowboy lassoing a bull, pulling Peter from his nest until he surrenders and crawls towards Tony on his own to spare his aching throat.

Tony smiles and showers him in pets as a reward. He easily presses the whimpering, thrashing boy to the floor, face down, and slips his special pill inside Peter’s naked backside. Peter whines and tries to dig it out, but as a beta, Tony is larger and his fingers are much longer than Peter’s; he buries the heat inducer far inside Peter’s pretty pink hole, soon to be wet and gaping like a female omega’s pussy, and withdraws his fingers.

While he waits for the drug to take effect, Tony pulls a struggling Peter into his lap and gently works him open. Bucky is a brute and will doubtfully take the time to spread his poor pet open at all, let alone prep him, before he succumbs to the tempting aroma of Peter’s heat. His long, thick, intimidating alpha cock will definitely hurt Peter’s untouched little pussy, especially when he pops that fat baseball of a knot inside his little body and empties those massive balls inside Peter’s heat-slick hole like it’s his own personal come-sock.

Tony’s a good pet owner, so he takes his time and slowly stretches Peter’s tight, twitching rim until the drug has fully kicked in and Peter is trying to ride his fist like a desperate slut. “Don’t worry, little one,” Tony soothes him, withdrawing his hand from Peter’s slick-soaked ass, “Your alpha will be here soon to make it all better.”

He leaves Peter curled up, sobbing in his bed, desperately trying to fuck himself on his own fingers to make the aching stop. Tony wastes no time heading to the sub-basement, where he stops at Bucky’s similar, but much less homey cell. Its shape is identical to Peter’s - three grey cement walls, one made of glass to allow Tony to see inside, two doors, a bed, a table, a box full of entertainment. Bucky’s kennel is colorless and lacks the loving, personal touches Peter’s has, but he doubts Bucky minds. If he does, the alpha’s never complained.

Not about the decor, at least.

Tony smiles. Bucky’s been here long enough to know not to fight the blindfold or the cuffs, even though he’s clearly confused. He scents the honey-sweet aroma of Peter’s heat clinging to the fabric of Tony’s suit and almost nuzzles against Tony’s chest, which makes him laugh. Bucky is exactly a foot taller than him and broad enough to snap Tony like a twig if he isn’t careful, but he always is.

By the time they get back up to the penthouse, Bucky is increasingly restless. Tony grins as the alpha’s massive, eager cock fills out, bobbing between his legs, red and wet and ready. His balls hang swollen and heavy, swinging with every shambling step the alpha takes, looking perfectly full of hot alpha come that Tony can’t wait to see pumped inside of his favorite pet.

Bucky groans like a dying man when Tony shoves him inside of Peter’s kennel. He hits the floor, kneeling obediently while Tony attaches his chain to the ring beside Peter’s own. He shakes with need and desperation as his cuffs are removed, Tony not fearing for his own safety as biology runs its course, as instincts take over. He removes Bucky’s blindfold and steps back.

Bucky looks up. Sees Peter, in his pretty princess bed, whining and fucking himself on his tiny fingers.

Tony ceases to exist in the alpha’s mind, along with everything else.

Smirking, Tony leaves the cell, locking the door behind him. He walks around the corner into the living room, drawing the tall curtains shut so he can watch the show unimpeded by the setting sun’s glare. He takes a seat in his favorite armchair, lifts his glass of scotch, and settles in to watch the show as Bucky approaches his pretty new mate.

It really is a sight to behold. The sheer difference in stature is enough to have shivers running up his spine as he swirls the scotch at the bottom of his glass. Bucky knows better than to walk on two legs. The beast crawls with the gait of a predator, long smooth strides that show off the muscles beneath that taunt skin. Maybe it’s dangerous keeping such strong beings around, but Tony has enough experience to twist it back on them. His alphas don’t fight back, not anymore. He treats them well, taking no pleasure in their suffering. They obey because the rewards are always sweet and his hand gentle if they show him the same.

Brought out of his thoughts by the fearful little noise of his sweet princess, he pulls himself up a little straighter. A groan escapes from his own mouth as he watches the massive, ripe globes of Bucky’s balls swing and slam across the inner thigh of their owner. Prize winners right there, not even Thor could compare to them. A selfish favorite of Tony’s.

Peter has taken off from his bed, the little thing so fearful even in his heat. Tony has to remind himself that his pet is young, likely hasn’t ever seen a mature alpha let alone one as perfectly designed as Bucky. The chase is normal, healthy even. Peter is a baby in practically every way, about to be fucked by a prized stud and taken as his mate, the anxiety is bound to be there.

He watches as they begin their little dance. Sensing a chase coming on, Bucky has lowered onto his haunches and sprung up on his toes, coiled to pounce even as it slows him down. Peter is nimble, small and light, able to maneuver around the space with more efficiency. He watches as Peter makes a few little kitten pounces, pulling a chuckle from him. Such a darling his Peter is, maybe ‘kitten’ would have been a more apt nickname.

Dancing out of his way, Peter keeps a surprisingly good lead for an omega clearly burdened by heat. But Bucky is older and, even unmated, knows instinctively how to wait out the feisty little morsel before him. It doesn’t take long. Only a few minutes pass before the heat starts to overtake the adrenaline rush.

Tony, blessed by whatever gods may be out there, has the perfect view of Peter’s delicate little rear. Watches as a fresh spurt of slick splashes out of his hole and onto the floor. A messy puddle forms between those trembling knees. Peter’s hole looks delectable, the rim drooping into a pout as it hungrily mouths at the air. The boy needs to be stuffed, badly, and Bucky has clearly picked up on that, even without the stunning visual Tony has been provided.

A high, panting whine escapes Peter. It is heart-wrenching, even on the ears of a beta. Bucky seems to agree as he lets out a soothing rumble, a move that surprises Tony.

Peter’s body loosens for a split second and that’s all the alpha needs. Two-hundred-some pounds are flying through the air and before he can blink, Peter is pinned to the floor. Tony is blessed with a perfect shot of the action, Peter’s thighs pinned between Bucky’s as his balls kiss the glass.

The crying is expected; it isn’t from pain, but fear. His princess is mounted like a bitch. A few messy humps smear precome all over the boy’s cheeks before sinking deep into his body in one smooth glide.

Tony has to pop the button on his slacks, needing the room as his cock hardens like a rock. Peter is stuffed so full of cock that even from the porn-shot angle Tony is getting, he can see a little pouch form from the rod inside him rearranging his insides.

His pussy is stretched so tight it clings to Bucky as he pulls his hips back. There are moments Tony worries the omega is going to be turned inside out, but his body is resilient and he takes it like a champ. Specks of slick and precome stain the glass as the wild thrusts throw fluid everywhere. The slapping of Bucky’s balls across Peter’s ass is loud and vulgar to listen to, the jingling of Peter’s bell nearly drowned out by the sound. The boy jumps as the heavy sack overwhelms his own and gives him a nice solid surface to grind on.

It doesn’t take long for Peter to get on board. He can hear little, “Alpha! Alpha!!”’s from him as he grinds back. With no name, his pet is forced to refer to Bucky as some faceless brute, there to ravage his pussy and claim him.

Tony knows the second Bucky attempts a bite and when the next one is successful. Peter trembles and twitches like he’s been shocked. Annoyed that he’s missing out, he gets up and leans on the glass. Bucky, threatened by the presence, moves them to where he can keep an eye on Tony. Sitting back down, he now has a perfect view of that little angel face as his insides are mixed and turned to goo.

Peter makes some of the best faces he’s seen in a long time. Slack-jawed and cock hungry but still maintaining its innocence, Peter looks like a wet dream. Perfect cock-sucking lips, coated in his own drool and eyes glazed over with heat, he can’t help himself.

“JARVIS, take a close up shot. Several angles, include the face.”

The clicking of the camera lets him know the job is being done. A lovely little photo to add to his collection.

He can sense things coming to a close as Peter is suddenly more awake, the press of Bucky’s knot surely now providing additional stimulation. Peter can’t seem to make up his mind if he wants to beg for it or beg for mercy, clearly torn between the two. He doesn’t get much of a choice as the now-rutting alpha above him jackhammers his hips down.

The exact moment his pet is claimed, taking his first knot, is something Tony will never forget.

Eyes rolling back, head bowing as the boy’s spine curls. His little cocklet shooting as Bucky’s whole form jerks and shudders, emptying gallons of come into that tight little body.

“Bucky, present.” All the alphas were trained to do it, but now more than ever is he glad he’s pounded it into Bucky’s head as well.

Bucky swivels, dragging Peter with him, still attached via the knot. He lifts his hips high, high enough that it takes Peter’s knees off the ground.

He gets a few snapshots on his phone. Trembling, shaking legs hover over the marble as the cock holds him suspended off the ground. The boy is thoroughly fucked, his pussy, having swollen, now pulses a bright red color from blood and arousal. Come is streaming down his thighs, streams running races down his delicate calves and dripping down his feet. Drops of come dribble off his toes and onto the floor. Bucky’s balls, often so swollen Tony has forgotten that isn’t their natural state, are slightly smaller. Now deprived of their load, the skin goes from taut, glossy, and flaming red, to relaxed, slightly wrinkled, and a softer tan color. It is a sight.

Tony almost doesn’t want to let Peter down, but this won’t be the last time he’s graced with such a sight. Bucky is still placing bites across the boy’s shoulders, clearly intending to claim and keep him.

And well, if Bucky likes him so much, why not let him keep the sweet little doll?

He watches Bucky carry his little omega to Peter’s spacious bed, curling up with him amongst the nest of blankets, the alpha’s knot still tying them together. He pumps his hips a few more times, compulsively emptying every drop of his seed inside his mate’s pliant body, repeating the action now and then.

Peter has gone limp, seemingly unconscious, except for the way he shyly nuzzles Bucky’s face whenever the alpha bends down to lick at his mating bite. It’s sweet. The two of them are endlessly adorable, and Tony is more than pleasantly surprised at how gentle Bucky’s being with his prized pet.

They’ve earned the right to spend the night together. Tony’s not heartless; he wouldn’t separate a newly-bonded pair the moment they’re no longer tied together. He drains the last of his scotch, turns out the lights, and heads to his own room to take care of the ache still tenting the front of his slacks.

He swipes through photos of Peter’s gorgeous face being bred by a bigger, stronger creature as he touches himself, comes at the scared-happy expression the boy made when Bucky started pumping him full, and falls asleep to the live footage of Bucky quietly gentling his scared new mate, cradling him like the treasure he is and softly fucking him all night long.

#starker #winterspider #tony x peter #tony stark x peter parker #bucky x peter #bucky barnes x peter parker #ceratonia-siliqua

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slippinmickeys · 4 years ago

Text

The Earl (8/13)

If you’d like to read this on AO3, you may do so here.

CHAPTER EIGHT

When finally her hands were unbound, Scully immediately reached up and removed the blindfold that had been pulled crudely over her head by Spender following the incident with the constable. The door to the room she found herself in closed hurriedly behind the person who had untied her, and she threw herself at it, finding the door solidly locked.

The room was small but well-appointed, with a decently sized bed against one wall, a dresser, wardrobe, and a small stand with a wash basin and screen on the far corner behind which she found an empty chamber pot, which she kicked over in frustration.

She was tired of being frightened, and sick of being intimidated by her situation. She was a smart young woman, and a decently educated one at that. If her station didn’t help her, as it had most of her life, she would help herself.

Through the window of the room, she could see the sea -- shining and vast. She was on the second floor of the building, and when she leaned out of it, could see several other windows to her left and right. It seemed she was in the middle of a non-middling-sized home, which was surrounded by a tall wrought-iron fence. And not far beyond that, the sea. There was nothing that she could use to climb down from the window, which was disappointing. And the drop, such as it was, was a fairly long one, with sharp-looking gravel edging the house. Should she survive the fall without injuring herself (unlikely), she would have to deal with the fence.

She closed the window, sat on the bed, and waited. She would get back to Mulder. But how?

XxXxXxXxXxX

“So according to this,” Frohike held up the aged envelope with the large X, “you have an illegitimate sister.”

“Half-sister, yes,” said the Earl, “and I have been looking for her since I found that letter two years ago in my father’s personal effects after his death.”

“And the ‘X’ on the envelope,” Frohike went on, “bears a striking resemblance to that of this ransom note.”

“Indeed,” Mulder said, looking at each man in turn. “CGB Spender,” he said with finality.

Byers cocked his head in question.

“You asked if I had any enemies. Up until several months ago, I would have said no.”

Mulder went on to tell them of Spender’s insistence that Mulder’s father had owed a debt to Spender and his efforts to collect, though Mulder had never been able to find any evidence of it, and wrote it off as the game of an unscrupulous fortune hunter. He told them of Spender’s offer of marriage to his daughter, and how the man had become incensed when he learned of Mulder’s marriage to Scully; how he’d practically threatened her in Mulder’s own study.

“The ransom note, that letter -- they had to have both come from Spender. The debt he insisted my father owed him -- it must be related to this girl, this Samantha. My sister.”

“And you never made the connection before?” Langly asked.

“I had no reason to,” Mulder explained, “I had found that letter years before I’d ever heard from Mr. Spender, and the letter itself doesn’t demand any recompense. It is merely an accusation.”

The letter was an accusation, nothing more. A veiled threat.

“So why wouldn’t he have mentioned it? Her? Your sister. When he came to collect the debt.”

“The scandal of an illegitimate child would have affected my father far more than it would affect me. By playing it close to his vest, perhaps Spender thought he still had advantage over me -- perhaps thinking there were other skeletons in my closet he could exploit to get the money he’s after. And by God, he does have advantage over me,” Mulder finished a little desperately, raking his hand through his hair and gesturing at the ransom note.

Byers nodded solemnly.

“What do you know of the man?” Frohike asked.

“Not much,” Mulder lamented, “I have reached out to an old friend, a former Captain in His Majesty’s army. He works on Bow Street. I asked him to investigate the gentleman after he threatened my wife. I got a letter from him only yesterday. All he has found so far is that ‘CGB Spender’ is merely one of many aliases used by this… cancer of a man.”

“And have you managed to find evidence of this child, Samantha?” Langly asked, “Perhaps she could lead us to this ‘Spender.’”

“None,” Mulder said bleakly.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully awoke to the sound of a key in the lock. She had undressed before bed, pulling off her soiled riding habit and, having nothing else to do with it, laid it over the chair in the corner of the room. She still wore her shift, and pulled the covers of the bed tightly up to her neck as whoever was at the door fiddled with the knob before finally swinging it open.

“My lady?” she heard the voice of the groom, Duane Barry, “Are you decent, my lady?”

Scully was obviously quite cross with the man. In her mind, he was every bit as responsible for her abduction as the tobacco smoking bastard who called himself Spender.

“As decent as I can be in this situation,” she said crossly.

Barry haltingly stuck his head into the doorway, his darting eyes assessing the room before reluctantly entering it, carrying a small tray before him atop which sat a plate of fried eggs and a rasher of bacon. Though she was determined to refuse whatever was offered her in an effort to convey her displeasure, her stomach growled of its own accord.

“Will you take this in bed, my lady?” the man asked, his eyes darting everywhere in the room but where she sat.

“You may put it on the table,” she said, rather harshly.

He set it down and lingered, still very obviously averting his eyes from her person. Eventually he said:

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

She heaved an irritated sigh. He seemed a simpleton, though she suspected he was not -- just a man dealt a difficult hand of cards in his life without the means or the compunction to do anything about it.

“Clothing,” she said.

“My lady?”

She pulled the bed covers down enough to point to her soiled and torn riding frock on the chair in the corner of the room.

“I require clothing, Mr. Barry. My frock was dirtied and torn during my kidnapping. I have nothing else to wear.” She gestured to herself in the bed.

The man turned beet red and nodded quickly. “Yes, ma’am. I mean my lady. I will get you what I can, my lady,” seeming to be spurred on by a task he might accomplish, he hastened to leave the room.

Scully took a deep, bracing breath, hearing her mother’s voice in her head: there’s never any reason to treat the servants with anything other than genteel decorum, Dana. None of us choose our lot in life -- we are assigned it by God. Not only did her mother have a point, but she was not in a situation where offending her captor would produce a good outcome. She needed a friend. You catch more flies with honey. She could and would save her enmity for Spender, the man who truly deserved it.

“And tea, Mr. Barry,” she said, regaining some of her composure. “I… I would quite like a cup of tea.”

He paused in the doorway and for the first time met her eyes with his own.

“Yes, my lady,” he said with a halting smile, “I can do that, my lady.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

A note arrived at Ashford Park the next day with brief instructions telling the Earl that a further directive would be given in the village chapel the following day at 3:00 in the afternoon.

Byers had cancelled the remainder of the holiday, and the guests -- somber and avoiding Mulder’s eye -- were departing, each withdrawal leaving the manse just a little more quiet and lonely.

The business associates of Byers were the only ones left by the end of the day -- they had taken Scully’s abduction as a personal affront, and the three men vowed not to rest until they had restored the Countess to the Earl’s side. In fact, the three men planned to head into the village hours early the next day, with plans to keep watch on the village church, hoping to get an idea of where this ‘intermediary’ as Spender had put it, was coming from or going to.

Mulder spent a restless night in a bed that still smelled like his wife, succumbing to exhaustion, though each moment of slumber was wracked with nightmares and dreams, each one more disturbing than the one before it.

When at last he dragged himself out of bed at first light, he was met by Mr. Valadeo, who softened his often stern demeanor and inquired about how the Earl was doing.

“Not well, Danny,” Mulder said morosely.

“That is plain, my lord,” he said kindly, gesturing to the three days worth of stubble that rasped on Mulder’s chin when he absently stroked it. “Could you tolerate a shave?” Danny went on to ask, “you’ll want to look your finest when the Countess is returned.”

Mulder huffed a wan smile and nodded, letting his valet take over, who led him to the chair by the dressing table without a word. Scully’s things were still sitting on the top of it, her tortoiseshell hairbrush with errant strands of red sticking out amongst the bristles.

“There is much talk below stairs,” Danny said, after what seemed like hours of silence. “Everyone is quite concerned.” He rubbed shaving soap purposefully onto Mulder’s face, then sharpened his blade. The same thing he did nearly every day.

“I’m concerned for the Countess myself,” Mulder said, trying not to think of what could be happening to Scully even now, “excessively.”

“Well, yes,” Danny went on, dipping the razor blade into water and then scraping the blade down Mulder’s cheek. “Of course we are all worried for Lady Dana. Poor Prudence is beside herself with worry. But,” he said, rinsing the blade in the small dish of water, “we are just as concerned for you, my lord.” His actions were careful and deliberate, which eased Mulder into a rare calm normalcy he hadn’t felt for days.

“For me?"

"You have not been married long," Danny went on, scraping the blade down his master's neck slowly, taking thoughtful care with his task, "and there was no courtship to speak of..."

Mulder would not normally countenance this kind of talk from his servants, but Danny was allowed more leeway than many. Mulder considered the man a friend.

"But it is clear to everyone that there is love between you and the Countess. Deep-seated, unshakable love. Love is not afforded to many in this world. Particularly one as powerful as that which exists between the two of you. Rare or lucky are those who find it, sir. We are, all of us, praying for her swift and safe return. For both your sakes.”

Danny had not taken his eyes off the contours of Mulder’s face, continuing to gently and carefully groom him. Mulder felt tears form at the corners of his eyes, touched beyond measure. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Danny.”

Valadeo wiped the errant foam from Mulder’s face, his duty done, and straightened, sniffing in a very English way.

“Sir,” he said. “I shall help you dress.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Barry came back an hour later with several ill-fitting, dowdy frocks, but at least they were clean and well mended. He came back ten minutes after that -- once Scully was finally dressed and out of bed -- with a hot cup of tea.

He looked in her eyes for only the second time. “Would… would you like milk or sugar?” he asked.

“Sugar,” she said after a moment and gave him a small smile, which he hesitantly returned.

He came back only moments later with several cubes of sugar on a small china plate. He handed it to her deferentially.

Just as he was leaving (and had pulled out the key to lock the door), she called out to him.

“Mr. Barry,” she said. He paused in the doorway and looked up. “Are there any staff in the house? Any maid I might pass along my garments to, to be laundered? Perhaps mended?”

He swallowed and looked to the ground.

“They have been temporarily dismissed, my lady. At the moment, it is only you and I.”

So Spender wasn’t on the property, then. He must be close by, though. A thought struck her. Perhaps there was a way to get out of this locked room. If only to see the lay of the land and get a better idea of her circumstances.

“And do you… intend to launder my unmentionables?”

The man once again turned an impressive shade of red.

“I only ask, as these clothes -- kind that you were to bring to me -- do not fit well. I would very much like the chance to launder and mend what I wear to… save you the embarrassment of having to do it for me.” She took a breath and took a chance. “I am due to begin my courses, you see,” she said, and the man turned almost white, “and that will require… specialized cleaning. I’m happy to mend the clothes in my room, but laundering is a messy business, as you know,” (she had never actually done it) “and if you would permit me, I’d prefer to do it… out of doors.”

“Uh,” he fumbled for a response, “uh…”

“No need to answer me now, Mr. Barry,” she said, “we still have a day or two. I thank you for the excellent breakfast. The eggs were delicious.”

With that she smiled at him kindly, and he closed the door behind him, though he was slow to turn the key.

#The X-Files #Fanfic #MSR #AU #Regency #The Countess #The Earl #Sequel #My Fic

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thenextchapter22 · 4 years ago

Text

Little Angel in the Devildom

Description: A spell to make her look younger changes her to the mental age of a toddler. The demon brothers and the undatables all try to make her life as happy as possible while trying to find a cure on the side.

Warnings: De-aging mentally, Age Play, Adorableness, WIP

Pairing(s): NONE! Unless you count non-romanticly...

Word Count: 5,414

Link to my AO3: Click Here

Author’s Notes: So this is going to be written in she/her pronouns and has an unnamed female main character. Fluffy goodness abound! :3 This is also an ongoing work I will randomly update. Please Enjoy~

_+_

Bedtime (Lucifer)

“Let’s brush your teeth now, my dear.”

She groaned while Lucifer just chuckled. “Come now, it’s the same as each night. Why is tonight so upsetting to you?”

The pair headed up the steps to the bedrooms in the House of Lamentation, Lucifer helping her with a hand on her lower back as they climbed. They had finished dinner a few hours ago and has some leisure time but now it was bedtime (for her).

She sighed loudly, shoulders slumping. “I’m not tired. Brushing my teeth means bed. Can’t I stay up and watch TV? Or-or, um, Levi and me can play some games!” She grinned at him, hoping to charm him into what she wanted.

He hushed her softly, her smile changing into a pout. This made him look on at her fondly while she sort of half-stomped into the bedroom. He had such a soft spot for her, it was ridiculous. She made his demonic heart just a little bit as it was in the Celestial Realm, when he was looking after his younger brothers. Caring. Loving.

“We’re inside so please lower your voice. And no, you cannot watch TV or play games tonight. It’s far too late for that.”

“Aw! No fair.” Why did Luci have to be such a dad all the time, it was no fun at all for her.

He waited while she brushed her teeth and changed into her PJ’s in the bathroom. When she re-entered he was switching the tiny nightlight on the wall on. It was a crescent moon, comforting to her because it illuminated the dark room. She loved the moon.

“All right, bed for the little humans,” he said, reaching for her to lay her down in bed under her covers. Despite her still being a regular sized human woman, she still was mentally the age of a human toddler so he tried his best to treat her like he would a child in any way possible.

It was an almost nightly routine for him to do this. If not Mammon (he helped her sleep with cuddles when she had bad days or just wanted company at night) or Satan (who read to her at night before bed most times) usually it was Lucifer that tucked her in and made her feel safe before she went to sleep. Beel sometimes woke her up when he was getting snacks and they shared, but that was their secret.

She yawned as she sank into bed. It was warm and cozy and snuggled in with a happy shake of her body.

He smiled. “Ah, so you are tired.”

She stuck out her tongue, blew a raspberry at him. “No way.”

He gave her a stern look. “If it were not so late, I’d have you in the corner for that.”

She froze. “Sorry…”

He hummed and sat beside her. “Did you have a good day?” he asked softer, gently brushing hair from her cheeks.

“Yeah.” She thought some more on the day, and wondered about something that had been bothering her. She had to be brave to ask it, though. “Luci?”

“Yes?” He replied, tucking the blankets around her frame.

“Why am I here?”

He stopped his motions. Lucifer sat back and looked at her. His dark features always seemed like they should frighten her, but they made her feel better. Somehow, she trusted him not to do her harm despite how scary he could be to others (like how mean he was to Mammon).

“I don’t ‘member lots of stuff but I had a dream where I was someplace else… they sky was blue and I was in a different house but none of you were there. It was sad.”

Lucifer knew this day was coming. One couldn’t be a human, be told they were in fact human, and not wonder about being surrounded by demons and angels. Plus, they still did not know what exactly she remembered after the accident and they also did not want to scare a child with the information of actually being an adult. Yes, she looked like an adult, but there weren’t any children in the Devildom so it wasn’t like she didn’t know the difference. It might hurt her more mentally and Lucifer couldn’t stand to see her hurt in anyway. As the humans said, better safe than sorry.

“That’s a hard thing to answer.” He paused. “I’ll tell you some other day.” Hopefully that would satisfy her for now.

She frowned. “Is it… is it bad?”

“No, it’s not.” He smiled, and, after finishing gathering the blankets around her tight enough to feel warm but not constricted, he leaned down inches from her face. He kissed her forehead, and whispered, “Sweet dreams.”

When he left, the room was bright from the crescent moon plugged into the wall. But she could feel Lucifer’s own presence, not a light, but a dark warmth, surrounding her as she fell asleep. She never wanted to leave home.

__++__

Prince (Diavolo)

The House of Lamentation family was gathered in the common room waiting for a special guest. An actual Prince was coming to visit. Lucifer called him ‘Lord’ but that was the same as Prince honestly.

She could not wait to meet an actual real-life Prince, just like the ones in the story books that Satan read to her at night. She jumped around for joy, screaming giddily, “I can’t wait to meet the Prince!”

Lucifer hushed her and told her to calm down. “Inside voices, please.”

Asmo was pouting, and he asked her, “We’re Princes of the Devildom, darling, so why are you so excited?”

She shook her head frantically, the ribbon curls that Asmo put in her hair smacking her in the face. But nothing deterred her. “No, ‘s not the same!”

“And why not?”

She twirled the dress, a pink and fluffy one with white stockings and white heels with bows on her feet, the perfect outfit to meet a Prince because she looked just like a Princess. She pretended to think on his question, then smiled and said, “Cause I said so!”

Asmo whined. “So mean…”

Satan laughed, crossing his legs on the sofa. “You heard her.”

Huffing, Asmo crossed his arms. “I wonder if she was like this before she came here.”

She did not know what that meant. As far as she knew, she was always in Devildom. But, she had no time to think on it because, again, a literal Prince was coming!

She was spinning in circles, passing the time, waiting impatiently for the Prince to come by. Twirling until she got dizzy, balancing with her arms and giggling when she got a head rush.

Lucifer sighed for the millionth time from where he sat on the armchair. “Please, be careful.”

Resisting the urge to stick out her tongue was hard, but she did because he would be mean and not let her meet the Prince and that would be awful.

A door opened and closed. She stood still, stomach clenched tightly. She was so nervous. Did she look pretty enough for him, a Prince?

But it wasn’t a Prince that entered the room first, and she only knew that when he, a demon with short hair dyed at the ends, pretty with bat-like horns on his head and bright eyes, said, “Presenting Lord Diavolo,” while gesturing to his left where the doorway was.

“You don’t have to do that here, Barbatos.”

“Yes, my lord. I find it fun, however.”

A deep guttural laugh that made her toes tingle, and then he entered and he was… incredible. Dressed in a red suit and bright gold eyes, soft looking red hair, and so big and tall. He could lift her up and take her all over! Piggy back rides for the rest of her life sounded so great.

“I’m sure you do,” the Prince said in response to Barbatos. Then he smiled wider, and held open his arms in greeting. “Hello everyone. How is—gah!”

She jumped into his arms (they opened for her, right?). Distantly she heard the brothers collectively groan, coo, and gasp. But she did not care. The Prince was here and he was so warm and smelled so nice, and he caught her quick and perfectly held her. Was this love?

He chuckled, a deep sound reverberating the room and in her chest. His arms encircled you, warm and incredible. He smelled almost like Lucifer but a different darker type of smell. She snuggled into his chest. “Hello. Do you know who I am?”

“Prince. ‘m a Princess.”

He laughed again. “I see that. What a beautiful one you are, too.” He pet her hair down, and she blushed, mumbling in embarrassment.

“My Lord, I am so sorry, she forgets—”

“Lucifer, it’s completely fine. Actually, it’s quite endearing.”

She glanced over at the green haired demon to see his eyes squinted at her, and he wore a smile. She then looked up at Dia—Divol—Dola…. This was hard for her.

“Di-Di!”

The room was silent.

“Excuse me?” Lucifer asked in shock.

“DI-DI?! HAHA!” Satan laughed.

Diavolo just laughed again. Then, he lifted her up by her waist, and spun. She clung to him and giggled. She was lightheaded as both stopped spinning, and he set her down, hands on her arms to steady. He grinned. “You are so precious. I almost wish we could keep you this way, but alas we cannot.”

Everyone kept saying that and she hated it. She just ignored it again, too happy because her Prince was telling her how precious and cute she was. All the work Asmo did was working, she was gonna get married!

He led her to the couch, and she was sat down. He then knelt, making the others gasp again. He took her hand, and smiled. “My Princess, I must take my leave to speak with the others, but we will see each other soon.” He kissed her knuckles, and she blushed brightly.

“O-okay, y-yes! Please, I wanna see you too,” she said, kicking her feet against the couch.

He nodded firmly and stood up. Glancing down at her with a bright smile, he said, “We will, I promise.”

She watched him leave, and Asmo came to sit by her. “Well? What did you think of the ‘Prince’?” he asked, adjusting the curls in her hair as he did.

She sniffled. “He was so pretty.”

“Prettier than me?”

She looked at Asmo, saw his broken expression. Then she climbed onto him and hugged him, smashing his face between her hands. “No one is prettier than you, Asmo.”

He grinned. “Of course not.” Then, a wicked look flashed over his eyes, and he was tickling her. “You never should have doubted my beauty! Now you will pay, little princess!”

She laughed and cried with happiness. It couldn’t have been a better day.

__++__

School (Mammon)

Mammon walked up the steps to RAD. He was late, as most mornings, but he had no clue he was being followed.

She was close behind him the entire time he walked to school. She was lucky he didn’t fly like he sometimes did when he was late but he must not have felt like it. She giggled when he almost caught her but she hid behind a bush and waited until she heard the doors shut to follow.

The only reason she was sneaking to school was because she was lonely. She hated how often she was left alone at the House of Lamentation. Well, she wasn’t totally alone, Belphie and Levi were usually there to watch her, Levi had online classes and Belphie only sometimes went to school and still got great grades. And Lucifer was usually home doing paperwork if he wasn’t out at Diavolo’s castle.

Lucifer would be so mad at her. He told her forever ago “Do not speak or even glance at any other demons aside from me, my brothers, and Lord Diavolo or Barbatos, do you understand?”

“I do,” she whispered to herself. She would be very careful.

When she opened the doors, Mammon was not there. Instead, two large scary demon boys stood in the way. Both super tall, dark black eyes, with toothy grins as soon as they saw her. Spikey horns and identical facial features, brothers it looked like. The only different was one had purple horns and the other red.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she realized this was a bad, very bad idea.

The red horn demon stalked towards her, backing her into the nearest wall. “Look what we found.”

“A good breakfast, we found, didn’t we?” said the other with purple horns.

Tears started running down her cheeks, and her hands were shaking. She held them in front of her and begged, “Please…”

There wasn’t anyone around, all the doors she saw were closed and farther down the hallway. She was doomed.

“Please? Get a load of this, it can beg. Should we make it beg for its life?”

Body shaking, she pressed back as far as she could, arms and legs adjacent to the wall. Nails scratched the chipping paint. There was a lump stuck in her throat and it burned. Fear, this was pure fear. Had she ever been so afraid before? She always had the protection of the house, and the brothers, and now she had made the mistake of leaving and screwing it all up.

“Mammy,” she mumbled. She kept her eyes facing straight, looking right at the chests of the two demons closing in. She couldn’t look at their eyes, they were like looking into the blackness of space and that was terrifying.

“What was that?”

One hot hand touched her shoulder, making her jump and causing them to laugh loudly. Fingers tugged her hair. They were playing with her. Playing with their food.

“Mammy.” She spoke more clearly, but still somewhat mumbled to them.

They laughed at her again. “Is she calling for her mommy? Ha! How pathetic the human race is. She knows she’s going to die, right?”

Her face was hot with tears, and she felt something tugging at the core of her stomach. Death. It was close. They were going to kill her. Eat her alive.

She shut her eyes tight, wishing for anything to come to mind to save her. “Mammy, please…”

The hand on her shoulder was big and heavy and heated, and it gripped her face tightly. That was all it took because then, with a burst of strange power in her voice, she screamed with clarity, “Mammon!”

A sound, crackling like a fire, and a feeling of warm energy in her body, and she heard him. Her savior.

“What is going on here?!”

The hand on her was gone. She felt the air come back to her, cleaner than before. Her eyes shot open, bleary and focusing. She was going to be okay now that Mammon was here.

“Move aside. NOW.”

The two demons stepped aside, stiff and robotic as they did, and she knew somehow they were now afraid. Because Mammon was powerful. Lucifer had told her so, that was why he was her main protector.

Mammon was in front of her, and he crushed her to his chest. She clung back just as desperately to him. A few more tears fell in elation. “You’re okay?! Please tell me you didn’t get hurt, because if you did I will kill—I-I mean…” He pushed back, holding her face in his hands. His eyes frantic as they looked her up and down, pushing her hair back gently, checking every inch of her for harm. He sighed in relief when done. “You’re not hurt?”

She sniffed, fingers tight in his uniform shirt. “No. Was scared though. How-how did you know?”

He raised a brow. “To come here and save you? I am the Great Mammon, you know.” He grinned that sideways grin that usually made her laugh. But right then, she just blinked, not convinced. He shook his head and his smile was gone, in place a tense serious expression. “I’ll explain later. For now, I want you to go over there and face away, and cover your ears. Can you do that?” he asked gently.

It was easy enough to do. But, “You won’t leave?”

He smiled. “I promise I never will. Just one minute, okay? Then we’ll go back home.”

He led her between the two demons, who seemed to be stuck where they were from fear and dread until she was at the opposite end of the hall, which was still empty.

“Close your eyes and don’t look no matter what. Cover your ears, too. Good.” He pat her head, and she blushed. He moved away, his presence she could feel gone but not too far.

It was only seconds, and she heard a dim shout. She flinched in reflex. Her mind could not comprehend what was happening and she knew it wasn’t good. But she also knew Mammon was doing what he had to do.

A light tap on her shoulder and she turned around. Mammon was there. He everything she could have wanted in a hero. She didn’t know what happened, but she knew he was right there, and he would be there to keep her safe always.

He held out his hand and she took it. “Let’s go home.”

Mammon carried her on his back, speed walking as fast as he could to make her giggle at the feeling of the wind passing by the both of them. When she got home he took her to wash her face and change into house clothes, which consisted of leggings and a big warm sweater. He said he was staying home with her to keep her out of trouble.

She covered her mouth with her hand, laughing. “Mammy, you are trouble.”

He sputtered. “Hey! I wasn’t the one that snuck out to follow me to school, was I? Lucifer is going to be so pis—mad! He’s going to be mad at you and me.”

She shrugged. “I’ll just get time out.”

He sighed, glancing up at the ceiling. “And I’ll just get strung up, no biggie.”

The day went by, the both of them hanging out. Later, both had ramen for lunch, his super spicy and hers mild, and both watched some movies on TV. Belphie joined in, too, eventually, cuddled on her other side. She felt so happy to have them with her. This was exactly what she needed and wanted.

Belphie yawned. “Why are you home, Mammon? Failed some quiz or something?”

Mammon sputtered. “NO! She followed me to school, activated our pact when some demons attacked her.”

Belphie was shocked, so shocked he stopped mid yawn to glance between her and Mammon. “Wait, she activated the pact?”

“Yeah, it was strong, too.”

“She’s pure trouble,” Belphie sighed.

“Yup.”

“Did you take care of it?” he asked in a darker tone.

Mammon grinned. “Yeah, it’s all taken care of…”

And when Lucifer was told of what happened, Mammon got hung up in the entry hall, while she got time out for one hour and had to write on a chalkboard 50 lines “I will not sneak out”.

She knew it was a lie each time she wrote it. Because, as two of the brother’s said, she was trouble.

__++__

Tea Party (Barbatos)

The rounded table was set with a pretty white lace table cloth, and a tower of treats sat in the center. Tea was steaming hot and cups were set around each plate. The guests consisted of 2 living and breathing occupants, and 4 stuffed creatures dressed to the nines.

“Yay! Tea party!” She was so excited, she loved tea time with Barb. He made yummy treats and always made her laugh with his funny stories about everyone.

Barbatos sat beside her after pouring tea into each cup. “I’m excited as well. I always enjoy our tea time.”

She smiled at him and his heart melted. He truly did enjoy this time they spent together. Always he was with Lord Diavolo, or other demons and her, but never just the two of them outside of this special time. He was glad his master let him have this little bit of time with her. Sometimes others joined them but mostly it was just the two of them and that’s how they liked it.

“All right, little miss, today we have apple and cheddar scones, strawberry meringue roses, chai tea sandwich cookies, and, your favorite, mini chocolate cupcakes. The tea is chamomile with honey for your sweet tooth.”

She gasped as she looked at all the treats. “It’s so pretty! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She was clapping and shaking in her seat and reached over to half hug him. “You’re the best,” she sighed.

He pat her back, inhaling her sweet scent. “It’s my pleasure, little miss.”

She giggled. “Okay, big mister.”

He playfully pinched her and she pouted at him. “Try the tea. If it’s not to your liking, I have others as well.”

She took a sip of her tea and sighed. “So good!” she whispered in excitement. She turned to the bear at her left, and asked, “What do you think, Teddy?” She pretended to listen, and nodded. “Yeah, I think so too.”

He held back a laugh, which was quite difficult for him. “I’m glad you enjoy it.”

This was something small he could do to make her smile. In her current state of mind, he would make sure she was taken care of, and if it was something as simple as a weekly tea time then he would make sure to prepare her favorites and keep that adorable grin where it should be.

__++__

Storms (Beel & Belphie)

Storms in the Devildom were scary. She did not like them. The skies were dark already and now it was like there was no light at all, and the rain was almost as loud as the thunder. There was no lightning to go with it, just continuous rumbling clouds.

She wanted to sleep but it was too hard. So she snuck out of her bedroom and down to the kitchen, hoping that something warm in her tummy would make her feel better.

But it was worse and louder somehow, and she found herself shaking under the table, cold and scared and just wanting it to stop.

“Hmm? What are you doing under there?”

She gasped when she was grabbed by her arm and pulled out, sliding along the flooring. She looked up and saw Beel with an arm full of food. She must not have heard him over the rumbling thunder.

He frowned at her, and helped her stand up. “You’re crying.”

She nodded, and jumped when a loud boom hit. She was in his arms in seconds flat, sobbing. “S-s-sc-cary! Loud!”

He hoisted her up in his arms. He didn’t like seeing her so scared, so he decided he would keep an eye on her. She should not be alone. “Yeah, the storms are loud. I’ve got snacks in my room so let’s go there.”

She just let him take her, feeling safer and warmer in his embrace. His big hands held her, and she shoved her face into his chest to try and block out the noise.

“Beel, you’re back already?” Belphie’s sleepy voice called. “Oh, you brought company.”

“She’s scared of the storm.”

She was put on Beel’s bed but she clung to his shirt tightly that he had to sit down first with her being held on his lap. A loud bang came, and she cried out, pushing her body close to Beel’s. “Make it stop.” She was begging, sobbing.

Belphie sat up from his bed and blinked to get sleep out of his eyes. He found his way to Beel’s bed and pet her hair back, shushing her softly. “You want to sleep, little one?” he cooed. He felt terrible seeing her so frightened, he would do what he could to make her feel better again.

She nodded against Beel. “Please…”

“Okay, keep your eyes shut. Get comfy, there you go. Now think happy thoughts for me.”

With Beel was her pillow, and Belphie was caressing her hair and cheeks, she slowly stopped hearing the booming thunder and loud rain hitting the house. She heard laughter instead, and when she opened her eyes she was in a field of daisies and had all her friends with her.

__++__

Pranks (Simeon)

Mammon started it all. First it was a tiny prank to Lucifer, and she couldn’t stop giggling when she saw his bright pink hair. He fixed it easily, but poor Mammon was strung up for days. She asked him for prank ideas.

“Mammy, can you tell me some pranks?”

He grinned and ruffled her hair. “Oh yeah! I’ve got tons. Some are too hardcore for you, but I have a few good ideas… Who do you wana prank?”

She thought for a second, who would be the one least likely to get mad at her. She did not want to end up like Mammon. Oh! “Simy!”

He burst out laughing. “This is gonna be good! Simeon’s a great choice, babe. Let’s get to ready to prank an angel!” He tugged her away, the both of them laughing down the halls.

Simeon loved her. She was adorable and cute, and they walked through the gardens together and picked flowers. They even made flower crowns before, Asmo got a kick out of that.

But he had no idea what was coming to him.

It was easy, all she had to do was set a bucket on top of the doorway and wait after they invited him over to play. It was filled with colored paint, she had picked blue to match Simeon’s eyes, and super heavy so Mammon helped her set up the bucket.

“Next time, we’ll do a prank you can actually pull, yeah?”

She nodded eagerly. “Please!”

He sighed, clapping his hands. “Well, I’ve got to head out to a gig. But tell me how it goes! And remember, do not tell Lucifer I gave you this idea or helped you. Swear?” The both of them pinky swore, and Mammon was off.

She waited and waited. It was awful, Simy took forever. Until there came the sound of footsteps, then Simeon’s voice. “Are you in there, little angel?”

It was a nickname he had for her almost instantly after she was mentally de-aged. She loved being called all sorts of nicknames, but this one was a favorite because he was so pretty and kind to her and gentle when he spoke. So she knew he wouldn’t get mad. She felt a little bad, but she really wanted to pull a prank and he was perfect.

“Oh, there you—”

The door opened fully, and the bucket dropped onto the Angel’s head. He stood there, bright blue paint running down his body, bucket on his head, paint all over the floors. He took it off after a second, and she squealed in laughter. His hair was coated in thick blue paint, the only part of him not covered was some of his legs, and his whole face was, too, she could barely see it. His shoes were totally covered, too, in a puddle of thick paint.

Her chest hurt with how much she was laughing, she could barely talk. “B-b-bluuee f-fa-ace, ha ha ha!”

“Oh my.”

He looked at her, and disappointment ran across his face. He swiped his hands over his eyes and cheeks, and then sighed, smiling softly at her. “Well, I suppose a small prank isn’t that terrible. You really are not so innocent, little angel. Perhaps I should call you little devil.”

She stopped laughing hysterically, breathing heavy, and pouted when he pat her head. “S-sorry. It was supposed to be funny. Was it?” She hoped he wasn’t mad. She never saw him mad before.

He chuckled. “For you, I guess it was funny. For me, I think it’s just a mess,” he said, lifting his arms, dripping wet blue paint.

She blushed. “I’ll clean up, I swear!”

He nodded, and paint dribbled down. “Good girl. Let’s get to cleaning, then.”

After he wiped his face clear, the room was cleaned, and Simeon had changed clothes (still the same, somehow, probably more magic), they settled down and ate some cookies left in the cabinets. She was tired from laughing so hard and Simeon felt a more relaxed evening would be best.

“Simy?” she asked, cuddled close to him.

He kissed the top of her head. “Yes, my dear?”

She looked up at him, blushing. “You looked pretty with blue hair.” She grinned.

She got a pinch to her cheek, and laughed when he pulled her onto his lap to tickle her until she took back her words. Maybe next time her prank would be something less messy.

__++__

Sick (Satan)

Her head, throat, and tummy ached. She was sick. And no one would leave her alone to sleep. Her room held 4 of the 7 demon brothers, Lucifer, Mammon, Asmo, and Satan, but he wasn’t there just then.

“Lucy, ‘m tired. Sleep?”

He shook his head. His elegant fingers brushed delicately across her cheeks where she lay in bed, feeling the heat from a fever on his fingertips. “Not yet, sweetheart. We’re waiting for Satan to bring back medicine for you. Stay awake a little longer.”

She sniffled. “Sweepy,” she whispered.

He made a sympathetic sound. “Poor darling. Soon, I promise.”

“Hey, when’s he comin’ back? My human shouldn’t be feelin’ like this for so long!”

“She looks so terrible. The poor dear.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. She just wanted to sleep. Her head hurt. She loved them so much but they kept talking and it was too loud, but she was too sick to say anything and Lucifer said she had to wait for medicine before she could sleep anyways. She hated medicine, and again, she just wanted to sleep. Her eyes were drooping and in sleep she couldn’t hurt as bad, right?

The door opened. “Satan, finally. Bring it here.” Lucifer ordered.

A rustle of a plastic bag, and then a bottle cap opening was what she heard. “Why is the entire house in here? She need rest, not a party.”

“He’s correct. All of you, leave now.”

Whining from the two others, and then the door shut and it wasn’t as loud. She opened her eyes to see Satan and Lucifer there, the oldest holding a plastic weird spoon in his hand with purple liquid, the other frowning at her directly behind.

Lucifer pushed the spoon to her face. “You need to take this.”

She turned her head. “No way, nuh-uh!”

He sighed. “If you want to feel better, open your mouth and drink this. Please.”

She started to cry. “Hate it. No.”

Satan sighed, “Let me try.”

“Good luck.” Lucifer handed it to him, and took a step back for Satan to take his spot.

“If you drink this nasty stuff now, you’ll feel well much sooner. The chances of you taking it again aren’t as high. So either take a few spoonful’s of this now, or more later on. What do you prefer, kitten?”

She reluctantly opened her mouth because more medicine sounded terrible. He poured it inside, and she coughed at the yucky taste. He helped her drink some water, and then she settled back, happy to finally be able to sleep.

Lucifer looked on and smiled. It was sweet that Satan cared for her like this, so he figured it wouldn’t hurt to let them be for a while. “I’ll leave you alone to rest. Satan, make sure she’s looked after.”

“I will.” Once Lucifer left, Satan sat beside her and asked, “Were my brothers troubling you, kitten?”

The medicine was kicking in quick because she was even more tired, and speaking was hard. “Loud,” she said, with a pained expression.

He tutted. “They worry in their own way, I suppose. But you need to rest. Close your eyes and I’ll read to you. Cinderella, or perhaps Sleeping Beauty?”

She mumbled, “S’eeping ‘eauty.”

“Excellent choice.” He settled down beside her, and pulled the book out. One hand held it open with the ease of reading for centuries, while his other pet her head, soothing with his caring hand, coaxing her into slumber as he read about Sleeping Beauty. She fell asleep, a nasty taste in her mouth, but a lovely voice in her ear.

#obey me fanfic #obey me #shall we date obey me #shall we date obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphie #obey me beelzebub #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #fanfiction #my fics #obey me fanfiction #swd om #shall we date

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buckysforeverprincess · 4 years ago

Text

Let The Games Begin Ch. 3

Dark!Viking James Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers

Words: 1911

Warnings: James still being an asshole.

A/N: Welcome back! I hope you’re all enjoying this fic as I have many plans for it. The entire thing is written in my head I just need to get it down and I promise to post it once a chapter is complete. In this chapter reader starts to put some things together. Let’s see just how this plays out. Enter Steve Rogers. Enjoy!

You sat on the bed staring out into the space that had become your home, looking at something and nothing all at the same time. You hated this room. It was the main room of James’ home and was where normal people ate and entertained guests but not this heathen. Civility had eluded him and had no hope of finding its way back to home to its master.

When you arrived, James had moved his bed from the other room and set up camp in here. You watched as he pieced everything together and demanded you get used to it. This bed in this room was to be your chamber of torture and he your proud captor. It doesn’t matter how many days you spend trapped in this twisted version of hell, you’ll never get used to this life or the scum enslaving you. He could fall into a pit of acid for all you cared.

“I’m leaving,” James says as he comes from the other room and heads over to the table where his knives are kept, breaking you from your thoughts. A glance in his direction sees him in dressed in some clothing you haven’t seen that appears to be a lot nicer than usual. Hopefully he’s going to ride himself off a cliff and chose to dress up for the occasion to look decent for the people sent to retrieve the mess at the bottom. A woman can always dream, can’t she?

“I’m leaving Steven to keep an eye on you today and Wanda will bring your lunch,” James says, his body half turned, and you can see his profile.

“Your whore?” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, and you honestly didn’t care.

James side eyes you and you can see his lips turned up in a grin. “Ahhh… so you’ve heard the talk, huh?” He looks to you, the grin now a full-on smile. “It’s a wonder you’ve heard anything. To my knowledge, you’ve never once left the house.”

You scoff and shrug. “We all have our secrets, don’t we?”

James clicks his tongue and nods. “That we do.” He turns his attention back to his task at hand.

Watching him, you see him place several of his knives around his body, a few of them concealed where they can’t be seen to the naked eye. The last one he grabs is the one you know well, the one you used and failed to take his life with. His most favorite knife with the long blade and thick handle.

James pulls it from his sheath and assess the blade, putting it up to his eye, carefully inspecting it for god knows what. Once he’s determined it’s worth, he inserts it back into its holder and makes his way over to where your sitting on the bed, holding the knife out to you.

“Here. This is for you.”

You look up at him, your eyes blinking in confusion. “What is this?”

“A peace offering, for now.” He urges you to take the knife from his hand.

“I don’t understand.”

James rolls his eyes and sighs. “I’m leaving for the day and in these unusual circumstances I figured you’d feel a little more secure in my absence if I left you something that could offer you protection.”

Your brows furrowed, still confused by his actions. “But isn’t that why Steven is staying? To protect me?”

“Yes…,” James nods, “but he can’t be here every second.”

“Why not?” You question, not buying his reasoning. “Natasha is here every second of every moment you’re gone. Why should Steven be any different?”

“Because Steven has a village to care for in my leave and they trust him. He’ll come check on you periodically, but he cannot stay the entire time I’m gone.”

This was so unlike James to offer this to you, so you know there’s more to this than he’s letting on. With a huff, you reach out and snatch the offered knife from his hand and set it in your lap. “Be careful, James. I’m not as daft as you think. This isn’t you showing you care because you and I both know you don’t. There’s something at play here… let’s hope for your sake the game ends and the pawns move as you’ve hoped.”

James’ eyes go wide and you’re the one to smirk, the ass giving something away you believe he never intended. He recovers quickly and shakes his head. “I don’t know what you think you know, but I can assure you my intent is selfish and not about you but the child you’re carrying.”

“Smart. Way to backtrack.” You grin and James turns to walk towards the door.

“Don’t wait up for me.”

“I’m missing you already.” The sarcasm is heavy on your tongue as you watch him leave, shutting the door behind him.

Your eyes move to your lap and stare at the knife that’s taken up residence there. This is his most prized possession and something he wouldn’t just willingly leave but he did, and he changed things up. Did he think you were totally naïve? You’ve been here for three months, you’ve learned how to play this dangerous game. So, why? What’s the game and how will you come out the victor? Hmmm… what are you up to, James?

“Princess.”

You look up and see a tall blond muscles man standing in the doorway. Steven. Apparently, you were lost in thought and had no idea how much time had passed but here he was. The man that’s size rivaled James, but his face was softer, more trusting. If he wasn’t James’ right hand man, you’d find yourself in a position to confide in him but that wouldn’t or couldn’t be. You’d suffer in silence and keep the man at arm’s length. Nothing to be gained from becoming friends with this brute.

“Steven. I’m still here, if that’s why you came.” Your tone is dry and without any sign of emotion.

Steven chuckles and smiles, shutting the door and making his way into the room to stand in front of the bed. “I trust all is well?”

“Why are you here?” You ask, not up for small talk or formalities.

“To make sure you have everything you need, your highness.” Steven lowers his head, bowing to you like so many had before.

It’s the first time since you’d been forced into this life that anyone has addressed you in this way and you're totally taken aback. His actions are very suspicious but there’s nothing that screams do not trust him. Hmmm… what piece of the game are you, Steven? A pawn or a knight? And how can I get you to show your weakness?

“Drop the act and tell me why you’re here.” You grip the knife and unsheathe it, pointing the sharp blade in his direction, the man still bowing before you.

The blond stands up and shakes his head. “Really? Is that any way to treat an ally?” Steven uses his hand to brush the blade out of his way and sits down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not James.”

“Maybe not, but you're his best friend and I’d be a fool to trust you.” You raise the knife back up, holding it steady in his face.

Steven’s eyes lock onto yours, and for the first time you’ve noticed just how beautiful the blue is staring back at you. “That blade isn’t meant for me, your highness. It really is to protect yourself.”

At his words, you lower the blade and place it in your lap, still out of its sheath. “Why do I need protection?”

Steven sighs and looks down, taking the knife and running his thumb across the blade. “Good… he sharpened it.” He puts the blade back in the holder and lays it down on the bed. “Because, your highness… you never know when someone might want to use James’ absence as an opportunity.”

You furrowed your brows. “An opportunity for what?”

Steven grins and leans in close, his lips brushing up against your ear. “An opportunity to bleed you dry,” he whispers, making you gasp in shock.

“Don’t worry…,” Steven sits back with a grin on his face, “I’ll keep you as safe as I can but in the worst case the knife should be used to hold anyone off until I can come around.”

You sit in silence as you study his words, the man still sitting across from you, watching your every move, which gratefully is nothing at this point. The knife is meant to protect until Steven comes and now it all makes sense. You were the pawn and Steven the knight. Guess it’s time to let the games begin.

“Thank you, Steven.” You reach out and place a soft hand on his leg. “I’ll make sure to keep the knife close and I promise to scream loudly should any harm come my way.” You give him a genuine smile, something you haven’t given anyone since you came to this wretched hell.

Steven glances down at the hand resting on his leg and then back up at you, his mouth turned up in a soft smile. “That’s all I can ask. Your safety is my priority.”

“Again, thank you. Now, you should go…,” you remove your hand but never break eye contact, staring into those ocean blues, “...James is cruel and unforgiving and I’m not sure I could survive anymore of his wrath if he found out you were in here instead of out there preventing any tragedies.” You lay it on thick, hoping to gain a soft spot within the tall Viking.

The blond nods in agreement and stands up from your bed. “As you wish, your highness.” And once again, bows and lowers his head for the second time since he arrived. “I’ll see you soon,” Steven says as he stands straight, the full extent of his muscular body on display.

“Bye, Steven.” You smile bashfully at him.

“Enjoy your day, Princess.” Steven finally makes his way to the door after several moments of stalling, opens it and exits, the large door closing behind him.

You stare at the door waiting for him to come back but he never does. Good. Steven’s presence frazzled you a bit towards the end of his visit but for the most part you were able to understand enough of what treachery lies ahead. Whatever their plan it involved you, Steven and James’ knife.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave, you thought, looking down at the knife at your side, the same one you tried to impale into the chest of the beast you share a bed with. The same one you’re positive he used when he slit your father’s throat with a laugh. It was now willingly given to you without so much as a fight or a peep of dissatisfaction, so maybe you should do what’s intended and protect yourself at all costs.

Whoever is coming won’t find the same woman that was dragged here unwillingly, kicking and screaming along the way. No. They will be met with a much-changed Princess. One who’s new mission includes protecting the life growing inside you. Come hell or high water this child would not grow up with James’ influence. You’ll burn this village down to the ground before you let that monster shape and mold the child his seed fertilized.

Viking Tags:

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starkerforlife6969 · 5 years ago

Text

Howard Buys Tony an Omega Part 8

TW: Angst with a happy ending, lonely Peter, Omega Peter, Alpha Tony

Though you don’t need to, to understand, you can read the rest here: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Tony is twenty-three and overworked. He knows he wants Stark Industries to be something great, but there are so many avenues to go down. So many different routes to take. He’s so tired. It’s exhilarating. It’s exhausting.

When he wakes up from another fitful sleep (so many ideas, buzzing around his head all the time), Peter isn’t in bed beside him: snuggled up with some book, or sound asleep. Tony frowns, but isn’t surprised. His Omega’s been acting a little oddly the past few days.

He pulls himself out of bed and can smell bacon and eggs. Sure enough, Peter’s in the kitchen. He’s in a fluffy pink robe, cheeks still warm and wet from his shower. Tony sits down at the table and reaches for his plate, smiling.

“Smells great, gorgeous,” he grins, and Peter returns his smile: small and a little brittle.

Tony frowns. He nudges Peter’s ankle under the table. “There’s a gala tomorrow night. Another fundraiser. You can get all dolled up.” He teases.

Peter doesn’t smile. Doesn’t bounce with glee like normal. He just sets down his fork with dainty fingers and nods. “Am I supposed to speak at this one?” He asks, tone faux-innocent.

Tony doesn’t like that. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Jesus, Pete, it’s one night.” God, he’s getting a headache. He pushes his plate away from him and decides to go to his study, get a little more work done.

They’re running late.

Well, they’re not- Tony’s driver is, and goddamn is he gonna fire that guy. He grabs his cufflinks, fumbling fingers still stained here and there with pencil smudges, and hurries to the door.

Peter’s stood waiting there: a vision. Wrapped up like a present, his dress has an enormous bow cinched behind his tiny waist, gloves up to his elbows and-

A very sad look on his face.

Tony groans, rolling his eyes. “We can deal with whatever’s bothering you after tonight, baby,” he promises, giving Peter a distracted kiss on the cheek. “Let’s go.”

“My coat-”

“It’s not cold out.”

It is cold out. Peter’s arms erupt in goosebumps the second they step outside. Tony groans and rushes them into the car.

The driver steps on it. They get to the gala fashionably late but not edging on rude. It’s a flurry of people, governors and investors. Obie isn’t here, thank god.

“Tony,” Campbell, one of the younger investors, beams, appearing out of nowhere. Tony shakes his hand. “And this must be your Omega. Well, don’t you have it all?”

Tony smirks, tugging Peter into his side. “Best thing in my life.”

“I’m sure.” Campbell murmurs, taking Peter’s hand. Tony watches as Peter blushes, deeper than normal, and looks up at Campbell through his perfect chestnut curls. “Jesus.” Campbell breathes, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Peter, Sir.” Peter murmurs.

“And how do you like the event so far?”

Peter’s eyes flicker to Tony, who squeezes his hip with reassurance. “We’ve just arrived but I think it’s lovely.”

“Absolutely,” Tony grins, “I’ll get us some drinks.”

On his way to the bar, he gets a few more pats on the back, a few more congratulations not only on his blossoming business but on his gorgeous Omega. Tony relaxes. He watches out of the corner of his eye as he gets handed two champagnes. Peter’s being quiet, sophisticated, demure. He has a little crowd of people around him.

Everyone is enamoured.

This is realms better than what happened at Charity Gardens.

He heads back and hands Peter his champagne, only for the Omega to blink at it in surprise. Tony quirks an eyebrow: amused.

“I don’t…” Peter’s voice breaks, “I don’t like champagne, Alpha.”

“Aww,” a few of the onlookers chuckle. Campbell claps Tony on the shoulder. “I’ll get him something sweet-”

Tony knows that. He knows Peter doesn’t like champagne. Peter likes ridiculously sugary, fruity cocktails if he has to have any alcohol at all. Fuck. And now Tony looks like a shit Alpha and fucking Campbell is trying to move in- “He’s fine.” Tony cuts him off, pressing the glass into Peter’s hand. “You’ll drink it.” He says meaningfully to his Omega..

The people around them shift awkwardly. Peter takes the glass, eyes sparkling with tears. The liquid sloshes with his trembling.

“Tony.” Campbell mutters, sounding shocked. “He doesn’t-”

Peter takes a little sip, unable to hide his initial disgust, but schooling it as quickly as he can and swallowing. He looks like he’s about to burst into tears and he looks up at Tony for approval.

Tony shakes his head, deflating. “Go out onto the deck, Pete. Chuck it in the bushes. I’ll get you something else.”

Peter nods and hurries away.

“Well,” Campbell clears his throat, “I take it you didn’t choose him yourself.”

“What?”

“I mean, if he’s for sale-”

“He’s not. We’re bonded.” Tony snaps. “He’s just been behaving like a brat recently.”

At that, he gets a sigh of understanding. “That happens,” Hannah murmurs, “they always go through a little moody spell. Even the best ones.”

Tony drinks his champagne.

***

He sets down the crystal flute of the champagne glass on the ledge of the patio. It’s untouched, and Peter feels bad for the waste, but he can’t stomach the taste. He swallows hard and tries to be brave. He learnt about this at Green. Every bonding goes through a rough patch. And Tony is working so hard- entering the prime of Alpha life- achieving so much. Peter should be grateful and proud- and he is- he is proud, he’s so proud. He wants to do nothing more than gush over his Alpha, but he feels so alone-

“My god,” comes a deep voice, and Peter blinks away tears, spinning around to see a tall, grey-haired Alpha standing in the doorway. “I wish you were out here waiting for me.”

Peter blushes like fire, feeling the Alpha’s gaze down his body. He smiles, and hopes it looks polite. If this is one of Tony’s possible investors, he wants to be as good as possible. “Thank you, Sir. But I’m not waiting for anyone. Just admiring.” He gestures to the stars.

The Alpha closes steps out onto the patio. The moonlight lights his face. A strapping jaw. Piercing blue eyes. A kind smile. “Please. The most beautiful Omega I’ve ever seen, you did not come here alone. Who’s the fool?”

Peter smoothes his hands over his dress, trying to stop them from shaking. “Thank you,” he murmurs, “I’m bonded to Tony Stark. He’s not a fool. He’s a genius.”

If the Alpha recognises the name he doesn’t show it. He hums thoughtfully. “A dress like that was made for dancing. Has your Alpha danced with you tonight?”

Pain blossoms in Peter’s chest. He shakes his head but smiles. “Not yet.”

The Alpha strides over and holds out his hand.

Peter hesitates.

The Alpha must sense it, because he threads their fingers together and tugs Peter towards him. “Just a dance.” He murmurs.

Peter relaxes into his embrace. It’s almost perfect. Under mossy eaves and under starlight, the distance music of the hall. But it’s not perfect. Because this Alpha is too tall and too broad. His hands don’t hold Peter quite the same way.

“Don’t look so sad, gorgeous,” The Alpha hums, twirling Peter suddenly and causing him to giggle in surprise. “There we go,” the Alpha grins, “sublime.”

Peter can’t remember the last time he and Tony danced. He lets his eyes drift close and sways.

When the music draws to an end inside, Peter feels fingers brush his curls behind his ear. He steps away, flushing-

And he sees Tony’s sharp silhouette in the doorway.

Cut against the light in an ebony suit, eyes dark and unreadable, drinking a cool glass of champagne, stem pinched tight in his fingers.

Their eyes meet.

“Tony,” Peter whispers, rushing over, a horrible dread running through him. What has he done? He curls his fingers over Tony’s hand, tears pricking in his eyes, but his Alpha won’t look at him.

“Peter. Senator.” Tony nods, voice cold, pulling out of Peter’s grasp, and heading back inside.

They don’t talk when they get back to the penthouse. Peter is a small, sad figure by his side. Tony refuses the urge to comfort him.

When Peter heads towards the kitchen, Tony shakes his head. “I’m not hungry.” He mutters, loosening his bowtie and heading to the bedroom.

He lies in the dark, waiting for Peter. He thinks about what he’ll say. He needs to address this behaviour. Needs to understand where his sweet, loving Omega went. Needs to reprimand him. The thought isn’t pleasant. Not with Peter’s sensitive heart, not with his pretty tears.

But that’s what they are. Pretty. To dance with another Alpha. Peter’s behaviour has been rude and Tony can’t explain it. He’s angry, irritated and jealous. To see his Omega in that old Senator’s arms- he’s seething.

He falls into another fitful sleep, and when he wakes with a jerk, Peter’s side of the bed is unslept in.

He pads through the dark, silent apartment, and spots Peter sleeping on the large sofa. Still in his dress, lashes clumped together with tears, looking so small and alone and-

Tony turns away.

—

His study is lit with moonlight, and he eases down into his chair. His whole life he’s figured things out, understood things, and he’d always understood Pete, his sweetheart. He must be missing something. Something must have happened.

An affair? The thought makes Tony sick, but he pulls up the apartment’s top of the art monitoring system anyway and skips back a few months.

He watches memories play out in front of him. Him and Peter having breakfast, kissing each other goodbye. He watches Peter flit around the apartment, cleaning and reading and writing letters. His boy sings to himself. It’s beautiful and innocent and everything’s fine and then-

Tony watches himself as he comes home one night- about three months ago. It’s late. He watches as he heads into the bedroom where Peter’s already asleep. His boy wakes up though, blinking at his Alpha.

“It’s late,” Peter had murmured, voice sleepy, “I made lasagne and it’s in the oven.”

Tony had clambered into bed and hauled his boy into his side.

That doesn’t look so bad.

But then the next night, Tony’s late. And the next night. And the next. Every night for a week. Tony remembers that week. He’d been hell-bent on getting the engineering software just right. He’d never even told Peter why he was going to be late.

He watches as over the week, Peter stops looking at the door at 6pm. How he starts putting Tony’s dinner right in the oven. How he sits alone at the dining table and eats quietly, washing his dishes, and then standing on the deck looking out over Central Park and watching the sunset.

Tony swallows the lump in his throat.

He’s gone all that weekend too.

But on Sunday afternoon, Tony watches as Peter busies himself. He takes a long bath, fusses over his hair, and stands in front of the mirror trying on a variety of pretty lingerie. Frills and silks, all deliciously tight.

Tony has to shift in his seat as he watches, the hum of arousal stirring.. Peter scrunches his nose up in concentration as he paints his lips cherry, he coughs when he spritzes the perfume too close to his mouth and Tony chuckles fondly.

But he gets a bad feeling as the day draws to a close. Because he doesn’t remember seeing Peter in this get up. Who is this all for?

He watches, enrapt, as the door to the apartment opens. It’s dark outside, and Peter arranges himself on the bed. His boy is gorgeous without trying, but with effort- he takes Tony’s breath away.

But sure enough, it’s Tony who walks into the bedroom. He looks tired and annoyed and-

It was right after the first investor meeting.

He watches, heart sinking, as his past self sits on the bed and kicks off his shoes.

Peter makes a small sound, soft hands sliding up Tony’s chest. “Alpha-“ he whispers, voice shy and sweet and-

Tony’s eyes burn as he watches.

“Baby, it’s been a long day, alright?” Tony gruffs out, raking his hand through his hair and getting under the sheets and turning away.

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers, stroking his fingers through Tony’s hair, sidling up against him, all soft and silk, “I’ve missed you and I-“

“Peter. Tomorrow.” Tony snaps, unusually harsh.

Peter pulls back, face hurt. He waits until Tony is asleep before slipping out of bed and pulling off the stockings and suspenders. He slips into warm cotton and curls up in a small ball on the very edge of the bed.

Tony can’t believe it. He itches to apologise, he can’t believe he hadn’t seen Peter’s efforts. And the little thing hadn’t even complained, hadn’t brought it up again-

He watches Peter spend his evenings alone. Watches him gaze at sunsets.

He watches himself walk in proudly one Friday and grin. Peter, sitting on the bed, looks up with a huge smile at his Alpha’s happiness.

“Charity Gardens,” Tony had announced, “me and my beautiful omega, a gorgeous park, midday sunlight.”

Peter positively beams. “Is it a picnic? Can I make us something?”

Tony had laughed, waving him off. “It’s a work function, gorgeous. I need to show you off.”

Current Tony can see the little second of disappointment that flashes over Peter’s face. The one in the video doesn’t. “Oh.” Peter murmurs, before forcibly brightening. “Okay. Should I make something to bring anyway? I wanna try banana bread…”

Tony chuckles, kissing Peter’s forehead. “Wow them, baby.”

Charity Gardens at midday is beautiful.

It’s sophistication that Tony’s grown up with his whole life. But this time it’s on his own terms. His genius. Not his father’s. He feels grown up.

“Is he yours?” Grace asks, nodding her head and Tony turns to see Peter playing in the grass. He’s barefoot, heels discarded, pretty dress stained here and there with mud, a vision as he plays with the children that people have brought along.

“You should teach him some class.” Obie frowns, and Tony swallows. “It’s not right for the omega of an Alpha such as yourself to behave like a child, Anthony.”

“Pete doesn’t act like a child.” Tony snaps.

Obie gives him a disappointed look.

Grace elbows Obie. “He’s a sweetheart, Tony, don’t listen to Obadiah. He’s just jealous.”

“Maybe next time,” Tony says gently, as he and Peter step into the shower, bodies pressed flush together. “Maybe you just stay by my side. It looks more professional that way.”

Peter had blinked in surprise, before a dismayed look fell onto his face. “Did I embarrass you Alpha?” He choked, hugging Tony tight. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. They taught how to behave at Green, but I- I forgot—“

“Hey, no, shh,” Tony whispers, water cascading over both of them. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

He watches as he keeps coming home late. He watches as Peter looks more and more sullen. Smaller everyday. He watches as his boy spends hours in the kitchen, arms covered in flour, turning pages of a recipe book over with his nose, only for Tony to take a few bites and not say a word.

He watches his sunshine deflate.

It makes sense, Peter’s reaction yesterday morning to the news about the gala. Peter’s snappish tone, his hardened glare. Tony understands it now.

He watches on the monitor as Peter dances alone around the apartment while the food is cooking. Arms up holding an imaginary partner.

Tony can’t remember the last time he danced with his boy, and it’s no wonder that Peter danced with that Senator.

All they’d done was dance. Nothing else. No reason to be jealous or angry. Peter had pulled away the moment it was over. But even when he’d been dancing, Peter hadn’t looked comfortable. He’d looked stiff and sad.

Tony’s forgotten how to treat what makes him happy.

He closes his eyes and shuts his laptop, disappointed in himself.

This isn’t right.

He gets up, determined, and heads to the living room. He crouches by the couch and rubs his nose against Peter’s. Oh god, Peter. Skin like satin and fresh cream, the longest, darkest eyelashes, sweet as anything in the whole world.

He’s perfect. Tony’s forgotten how to treat an omega. Has taken him for granted. They need love and cherishing and Tony’s been-

He lets out a choked off sob, and Peter jerks awake- eyes wide and worried.

“Alpha?” He whispers, “are you okay, are you…” he cups Tony’s face in his tiny hands, grounding him, loving him.

“I’ve done you wrong the past few months, baby,” Tony confesses, “I’ve been a shit Alpha-“

“No!” Peter bleats devotedly, flinging his arms around Tony’s shoulders. “You’re the best, the best-“

“I’ve let you down. Bonded you and ignored you like those Alphas you read about in books- treated you like nothing-“

“No.” Peter whispers, voice firm. He locks eyes with Tony, noses touching. “You give me everything.”

Tony sweeps him into his arms. Peter’s light as anything, perfect in his grasp. Why wouldn’t he dance with his angel where everyone could see? Why would he tell Peter not to be Peter? Not to do what comes naturally to an omega and play with children and frolic in the grass and be happy?

How could he deny his boy anything?

“You got ready for me.” Tony whispers, heading into the bedroom and setting Peter down onto their bed. “In stockings and lace, where’s that little number?”

He can feel the heat of Peter’s blush. “How do you…”

Tony kisses him hard, pinning him to the bed and hovering over him, knees between those long legs. “You hate champagne. You’re an amazing cook. You were a vision tonight. You’re a vision every night. I’m so proud that you’re mine. You wanted Charity Garden to be just me and you, it will be. Wherever you wanna go, whenever you wanna go, just me and you.”

Peter’s eyes glisten with tears. Tony kisses his sharp cheekbones and wills them not to fall.

“Don’t cry, baby, please, I can’t take it.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter blubbers, tears slipping out. “I-I didn’t mean to be rude, and- I shouldn’t have danced with that Alpha, and- and I just missed you.” His slender fingers clutch tight at Tony’s shirt. “Sometimes when you go, I think you might not…”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Tony groans, pain coursing through his system. “I haven’t done you right. I’ve let you down.”

Peter shakes his head, denying still that Tony has flaws, but he knows. Tony knows.

“It’ll be different,” he promises, kissing down Peter’s neck, feeling the delighted whimper from beneath him. Feeling the way Peter arches against his body. It’s been too long. Jesus, how has he gone without this?

Peter’s panting beneath him, squirming with desire. “Don’t stop,” he pleads, fingers unbuttoning Tony’s shirt, hips keening, “please.”

Tony can see himself all those nights turning away. Not noticing. Too tired and overworked. But Peter has been here, wanting him, missing him. It’s almost too much to bear.

“Don’t do a thing.” Tony whispers, nosing at Peter’s ear, tickling him, hands working on the bow of Peter’s dress. “Don’t do a thing, let me show you how much I love you.”

***

As he creeps back into the penthouse the next morning, he’s relieved to see Peter’s still asleep.

As quietly as he can, he brings all the pink balloons into the bedroom and sets down the breakfast tray heaped with all of Peter’s favourite food.

When Peter wakes up, his hair is adorably mussed, endearing confusion all over his face.

Tony can’t help but kiss him.

Peter makes a sound of glee at breakfast- a louder sound of delight at the balloons, and Tony feeds him and whispers how much he loves him.

Once Peter’s giddy with the sugar rush of his waffles, he flits out of bed and over to the record player. Tony watches, amused and fond, as smooth jazz starts to play.

“Let’s dance,” Peter whispers, standing at the foot of bed. Chocolate around his mouth, sparkles in his eyes, hair mussed, wearing only Tony’s shirt. Long, smooth legs on display. Peter holds out his hand impatiently, teasing. “Dance with me, Alpha.”

Tony vows to never lose sight again. Not of what matters. Peter steps onto his feet, so Tony can whirl them around. Tony rests his face on those impossibly soft curls, holds his boy tight.

Peter’s humming under his breath to the music, face in Tony’s chest, content as a kitten.

“I can’t believe I was so blind,” Tony admits. “That I took you for granted.”

Peter kisses the underside of his jaw, a butterfly kiss, full of love and forgiveness.

Beside an unmade bed, empty plates of waffles and under a thousand red balloons, they continue to dance.

mwah gorgeous people x

#starker #alpha tony #omega peter #part 8 #howard buys tony an omega #peter parker is a sweetheart #angst with a happy ending #fluff and angst #young tony #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #bonded #established relationship #jealousy #possessiveness #loneliness

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cno-inbminor · 5 years ago

Text

adsentio - stagnation

a/n: we’re back with prince!akaashi, royalty!au, extra part. i promise i was writing the wedding scene, but then it started storming pretty heavily...and my brain said, “no, Kay. it’s rainy hours. write angst. you know you want to.” and...this happened.

NOTE: for this specific scenario, it’s not 100% necessary to read ‘adsentio’, the main story. however, there are details that reference it and subsequent parts. the basic idea is: you and prince akaashi had been set up to marry since you were children, and while the both of you were against it for a while, feelings changed for the better.

summary: after a few years of being married, you find yourself firmly concluding that indeed, akaashi no longer loves you.

genre: angst!! with happy ending though. wc: ~2.9k

main story: adsentio (pt. 1) | bonus letters (pt. 1.5) | the masque (pt. 2)

Whenever torrents of rain cascade over the kingdom, down the vine-ridden castle walls and pattering upon the lake, many will pause in their tasks and gaze out the nearest windowpane. Thunder may rumble and lightning may strike, yet everyone registers the same twist in their stomachs. An unease lies beneath their skin; a chill that wickedly summons horripilation. In an effort to battle the shadows, fires begin to roar, one by one through the castle. Aches and pains arise in bodies as the masses wait with bated breath for the rainbow to appear as it always does.

Smoke floats through the chimneys and taints the air, evident by the wisps of gray and onyx. Yet they are unnoticed and in stealth on this dreary night where everyone must succumb to the understanding that there will be no rainbow. The controller of the tides will peak above the midnight clouds and attempt to shine, but never strong enough to guide the nightly travelers.

Even with the tamed inferno in the chambers, a puff of visible air leaves your lips. Your hands clasp tightly together, your fingers intertwining with each other in your lap as you sit in front of your vanity. Raindrops beat against the glass of the balcony doors, glistening in their trail towards the ground. Yet as soon as they fall onto stone, the drop shatters and colors the surface. It paints and paints until the blemishes appear and the imperfections glare towards the skies.

Jewels sit heavy on your figure, your crown resting on a cushion atop your vanity. But in this moment, nothing weighs more than the wedding ring on your left hand. It’s crushing, suffocating; it burns a print and imprisons your appendage, reminding you of unspoken promises ghosted against your ear. The gems hold decades of memories, being passed down from queen to future queen, and you wonder if any of them proceeded with what you plan on doing.

Akaashi had entered the room as smooth as a serpent, silent like a zephyr. Your only warning of his presence is the raised hairs on the back of your neck, your body tensing just as his hands placed themselves on your shoulders from behind. Another breath is drawn from your lungs as he peers into the mirror at you, the faintest expression of happiness drawn from his lips. But it’s lifeless. It’s the one he reserves for meetings and pleasantries, for when he disagrees with his father but has no choice to comply. His eyes are darkened with death and dissatisfaction, and has been for almost two weeks now.

His brows only marginally furrow with concern at your lack of reaction, how you seem to be looking past him. Your own expression comes off as solemn yet nervous, as if you’ve committed a grave sin.

“Is anything wrong, my dear?” He asks gently, watching carefully.

Your lips purse as you turn your head towards the hand on your right shoulder. They no longer provide the warmth and comfort that they did so many years ago, but only serve to freeze your soul and weave together the insecurities that you had painstakingly unraveled. Akaashi continues to gaze at you in silence as you stand from your seat, wordlessly beckoning for him to take your place. With guarded hesitation, he does as you say. Instead of standing behind him as he did you, you instead take the space on his right, facing his side profile. Feeling unnerved, he turns to face you rather than his own reflection.

In times of vulnerability, you have always struggled to find your footing, to feel that you are powerful. You believe there is a strength in possessing self-awareness and having the ability to convey those thoughts to someone who cares and knows. Just because you feel small in the moment does not mean you must be small. You can tower over the other person as you do now, forcing your prince to lift his chin to speak to you.

“You are unhappy,” you whisper ruefully.

“I don’t…I don’t understand,” he fibs, his eyes wavering as he directs his gaze away from yours. In that brief moment of eye contact, you had seen the show end, but the curtains lifted, the gears turning and unveiling his chaotic despair.

“You cannot lie to me, milord. And only you are incapable of doing so with me.”

He lets out an arduous sigh and slouches his back, a pose of defeat and exhaustion. A dagger twists his heart at the title, but his reticence allows you to continue.

“I can only imagine that there have been many women in my position before, where they must continue to rule with locked lips and the key thrown. There must have been many who were as hopeful as me, and yet as time aged us, we had to turn the other way and simply learn to accustom ourselves to the new surroundings. With how long we have known each other, I know almost everything about you. To most, you may only have a few sitting postures. But to me, you have tens. Each little movement indicates something different, something you happen to be thinking or feeling at that moment. It’s ingrained into my brain by sheer force and repetition, and I’m beginning to wish I was more oblivious. Perhaps, then, I would at least have been a happy fool, content with my misguided beliefs.”

“What are you trying to say?” He enquires as he dares to face you again. With regret, loss, and grief, he watches as your eyes begin to shine with tears and the most bittersweet smile on your face begin to form.

“You no longer love me.

“And I have no objection to that,” you continue, raising a hand to stop any of his interjections. “I should have known that you would eventually tire and wish for what I had voiced all those years ago: some freedom, some choice. As much as you had convinced yourself that marrying me was unequivocally your free will, you no longer believe it. All of your interactions with me scream so, and I have no intentions to attempt to convince you otherwise. Doing so would be hypocritical of me. So for now,” you pause, looking down at your hands while catching your breath.

Akaashi can hear the tremble of your lungs over the crack of thunder and the beating of the heavens. But everything deafens when your right hand hovers over your left ring finger. They hesitate and shake, reaching then reclining, before grasping the ornate band and slowly, lamentably removing it. You then extend a hand to gently grasp one of his, placing the piece of jewelry in his open palm, then curling his fingers closed around it.

“For now, I shall return this to you. You may do as you wish, as I will not stop you. Perhaps…we were not lucky enough for love.”

You sleep with your back to him that night, unwilling to face him when only mere inches exist between you two. You miss how Akaashi turns to face your back, how his arm tentatively reaches to wrap around your waist before pulling back, and can only slip into his dreams when counting the strands of your hair.

“The Prince urgently requests that you meet him in the library, Your Highness.”

“Now?”

“Preferably, yes.”

“Very well, I shall be there shortly,” you sigh, your turning away signaling the messenger’s dismissal. Your head bends down to take one last look at the embroidery in your lap, your fingers finishing some last few stitches for an appropriate stopping point. Fingers cautiously smooth the wrinkles of your day dress, and you take one last deep breath.

The journey to the library is painstakingly laborious, as though each step you made had been done with shackles around your ankles. There is a weight to the sound of your heels clicking against the ground. Maids and butlers shuffle past you with heads bowed, though you seem to deep in a trance to observe.

Much of the energy and power that you felt you had exuded those nights ago had soon dissipated from your body. Your body resembles an empty shell, devoid of a plan to stand on your feet and continue with your normal activities. Your left ring finger screams into the numbing void, the missing weight almost bearing its own scarlet letter. You stayed in your room as much as possible, requesting meals to be delivered to the chambers. Akaashi nearly always needed to be away, taking care of kingdom affairs in preparation for his inevitable ascension to the throne. The only times you were ever near him were in the mornings and nights. You understood he was allowing some space for you, yet to request your presence…

Soon, you stand in the doorway of the royal library, the wooden entrance left ajar. The space acts as a safe haven for anyone in the castle; you gently press it open with the pad of your fingers. Hundreds of books on shelves line the walls with a few tables and lounging couches, yet it is eerily empty. Typically, there would be another person climbing one of the ladders to reach a high book, but even those are gathering dust for now.

Akaashi is in the farthest corner by the window, small stacks of bound journals and novels on almost every available space of the surface. He stands tall by the glass, looking out towards the gardens with his hands clasped behind his back. You take this moment of his oblivion to appreciate the back of the man before you, choking back and battling the agonizing twist of your heart. It is a moment you feel that you no longer deserve, but whatever it may be, the matter seems far less urgent than what the butler had told you.

You near him and clear your throat, the noise causing him to spin on his heels. He looks somewhat taken aback, but quickly composes himself as you curtsy. “I am here, Your Highness. I was told you had urgent matters to discuss.”

Akaashi sighs somewhat before sitting in the chair, beckoning you to come closer to the desk. His complexion seems pale and almost gaunt, and in turn, you frown. Was he not sleeping? Or eating? Has his father been putting too much pressure on his shoulders?

“I must confess,” he begins softly and refuses to meet your eyes. “The matter isn’t as urgent as I made it out to be. But I wanted to see you as soon as possible as it is still important and does concern you.”

“Did I…do something wrong?”

“Of course not,” he immediately denies, taking a hasty glance towards you before turning back to the books on the desk. “If anything…I am the one who has wronged you, and I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me,” he continues, his voice trailing towards the end of his confession. The desperation for forgiveness and repentance drown his words until they are all you can feel, yet you were so unsure of why he was seeking those. Did he pity you? Your emotions?

“I believe there is no reason to forgive you, as there is nothing you should feel sorry for,” you say stiffly, hands subtly wringing together.

“I must concur,” he kindly retorts. “Here, please have a look at this.”

He hands you a journal from the top of a stack, encouraging for you to take it. The leather feels aged and worn, but it is one you recognize from many, many years ago.

‘You could consider it a memoir.’

“Open it, please. And read what’s inside it.”

With a curious look, you unwind the ties and peel back the cover. The first page holds nothing, but when you turn the yellowing parchment, familiar handwriting greets you. A date sits in the top right corner, marking it a little less than a year before your eighteenth birthday.

‘I must say, I was pleasantly surprised to receive a letter from the princess. In my mind, she would have better things to attend to than to reply to me. After all, we both have our own duties, and in addition to hers, she must be attending some of her father’s meetings. I cannot deny the fact that my heart began to race swiftly when I saw her signature at the bottom of the letter. Even in her writing, I could hear her voice in my head, reading it the same way as if she were speaking to me. How I long for the summer months to quickly come.’

The beginning entry ends there, but as you thumb through the other pages rapidly, they are filled with his writing in neat, onyx ink. You begin to recall the days when you both were here in this very room, him scribbling away as you read your subject of interest. Your eye the other similar-looking journals and he confirms your unspoken questions.

“They’re all about you,” he smiles, though it seems sad and apologetic. “As you can see, I filled quite a few journals over the many years, but…unfortunately, as I grew busier, I was unable to write as much. When you said those words to me that night,” – a grimace on his complexion – “I couldn’t believe myself. Did I truly not love you anymore? At first, I struggled to find an answer…until a few days ago. I have spent much of my time reading through these pages, seeing what I have written.”

“You read…all of these? There must be almost twenty journals here,” you say in a mixture of disbelief and awe.

“I couldn’t quite put them down, I must admit. Some of my best work, perhaps.”

He stands from his seat and walks around the desk until he’s in front of you. Those pools of cobalt blue still find it difficult to meet your own eyes – they swim with contemplation and hesitation, but a sheet of determination soon clouds them. After you recognize that, he grasps your left hand with both of his and kneels on one knee, his forehead bowed down onto your knuckles either out of embarrassment or absolute respect.

“Keiji, what are you—”

“I was wrong. I had been so wrapped up in my own affairs that I failed to look after you as I had promised at the altar. I neglected you and unwittingly led you to believe that I no longer loved you. You do not deserve such a foolish man, so ignorant to forget how good you are to me, how there can be no other woman because you are my perfect match. I have been reminded of all the reasons of why I love you, and I swear on my existence that I love you more than I ever have.

Yet the truth is, I shouldn’t need to be reminded. You should never need to question my loyalty to you, and for that…I can only give my deepest apologies,” his voice trails to a volume so soft, yet so shaky with remorse. “The regret that I feel can’t even begin to hold a light to the pain that you must have kept bottled inside you, where you kept the cork in for as long as possible as to not burden me. I have failed you, and I will spend the rest of our days correcting my wrongs. In this very moment,” he pauses, inhaling a deep but quivering breath.

“I desperately and humbly request of you to give me this one last chance, to prove that I can be the man you deserve. I am begging you, my future queen, to forgive me.”

Your breath hitches with the last statement.

A prince never begs.

Yet he was here to lay it all out for you, imploring that you stand by his side, again, in more ways than one.

“Please rise, Your Highness,” you call out softly, your hand reaching out to try lifting his chin and meet his gaze.

He stubbornly shakes his head. “Not unless you give me your answer.”

“Keiji, you don’t need—”

“Your answer. Please,” he beseeches with the last word, breath held. You know that when Akaashi becomes insistent, he never backs down yet somehow still allowing the other person to have a choice in the say. No thinking needed to be done, as your answer should be quite obvious.

“How could I ever refuse you, Keiji?” You tease softly with a smile.

Since the first moment he had kneeled before you, he looks up to see your face. Unshed tears glisten from the sun’s rays streaming through the glass. Your words are more than enough for him to stand on both feet again, soon wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head into your shoulder. These acts of affection are only a small portion of what you had sorely missed, and you were counting on Akaashi to fulfill his vow.

“You are everything to me,” he breathes unsteadily into your neck. “And I will make certain that you never forget this, even after we pass.”

“I can trust you?”

“Yes. I promise.”

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