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thatrandomwriter · 3 years ago

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Rooftop Romance

merle x reader

warnings: swearing, gore, sexual language

“You sure he’s worth it?” T-Dog asked, skepticism written across his face.

“Him and Daryl are our best hunters. They may both share about three brain cells, and Merle is about the biggest asshole I’ve ever met-“

“Hey, fuck you,” Merle cut in. I ignored him.

“But the fact is we need them to survive. We’ll make it out of the city, but you need to go before the others leave without you,”

T-Dog looked conflicted, but after a few seconds he dashed out of the door, racing down the stairs. I pulled the door shut, locking it behind him. There was a strong chance that I had just ensured my own death as well as Merle’s. The sound of the dead beating on the door almost as soon as T-Dog had left seemed to give Merle the same idea.

“Well fucking come on then princess, I ain’t getting any younger over here.” He had that god awful smirk plastered across his face. “You know, there’s a lot I can do with these hands. Maybe I can show ya once I’m free,” he made a crude gesture with his cuffed hand.

“Maybe if you didn’t say shit like that all the time, someone might actually wanna fuck you. You’re disgusting, you know that?”

Instead of waiting for his no-doubt even worse reply, I walked over to see what had been left in Dale’s toolbox. It was mostly screwdrivers and spanners, nothing of any use to me, but I noted a hammer and most importantly a hacksaw. Hopefully it would be strong enough to get through the metal of Merle’s handcuff.

“Call me disgusting all ya like, everyone knows you want a piece of this,”

My cheeks grew hot and I fumbled the saw, almost dropping it as I walked over to him. It was a humiliating feeling to know that he was right. To know that despite what a piece of shit he was, over the few weeks I’d known him, I had developed some form of feelings for him. Merle had found me while out checking the camp’s perimeter with Shane. Having just escaped the city, I was exhausted and terrified, and just about ready to collapse on the forest floor and give up. Of course, Merle’s reasoning for taking me back likely had more to do with wanting to fuck me than anything else, but I wasn’t entirely convinced that Shane would have taken me back if Merle hadn’t been there to bear witness. We weren’t exactly close, but we shared a fondness for drinking and he taught me a few things about using a crossbow. I didn’t fool myself into thinking he wanted anything more than a one time fling with me; he flirted with just about anything with tits. But some small, stupid part of me still hoped for more.

I sat next to him, pulling his hand toward me to get a better look at the handcuffs. When I looked up, he was staring into my face with another stupid grin. I sent him a glare back.

“Come on now, don’t be like that. Last I checked we’re all alone up here, no-one needs to know, part from maybe a few walkers,”

“Would you quit it? I’m trying to save your life.”

“Jus’ trying to lighten the mood. You should really try lightening up sometime, wouldn’t kill ya,”

I rolled my eyes, corner of my mouth twitching upwards slightly.

“Looks like cutting through the cuffs is gonna be a no go, but this pipe you’ve been cuffed too looks pretty old. It’s worth a try at least,” I lined up Dale’s saw, and began working at the metal.

“So I’m gonna be stuck with a friendship bracelet from Officer Friendly?”

The thought made me laugh a little.

“It’s not like you don’t deserve it; threatening everyone with a gun wasn’t exactly your best moment.” I teased. In his defence, he had most definitely been high as a kite when he’d started pointing the gun. Not that that really made it any better.

“I wasn’t gunna shoot em. Definitely wasn’t gunna shoot you, ya far too beautiful,” Merle said.

“And so’s Andrea, right? And Lori, and Jackie, and every other woman who isn’t trying to eat us,”

“I dunno, some of those walkers ain’t too bad,”

I hit him on the shoulder.

“Can’t I make a joke? Or are ya gunna get jealous, hmm?”

I stopped talking to him after that, focusing instead on trying to make any headway with the pipe he was handcuffed to. After an hour or so, I had only made a tiny dent in the metal. Merle was getting increasingly annoying, and the sun was starting to slowly set in the sky. If we wanted to leave today I’d have to hurry; travelling the city in the dark was a death sentence. At least the walkers at the rooftop door seemed to have given up, or gotten distracted by some other unfortunate souls. They had stopped pounding on the door some time ago.

The saw blade bent slightly, but I persisted, determined to succeed, speeding up. Under the strain of my sawing, the blade bent sideways, and suddenly snapped under the pressure, coming clattering to the floor.

“The fuck did you do?” Merle demanded.

“The blade wasn’t strong enough. It couldn’t get through the pipe. I’m sorry.” I felt suddenly numb. I couldn’t look at him. I’d failed. I’d failed him. He was stuck here, to starve or to be eaten by walkers.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m gonna fucking die up here, god fucking damnit. Look at me, the fuck did you do?” He grabbed my shoulder with his free hand, gripping me hard, shaking me, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” It was one of the first serious, genuine things I’d said to Merle, and it was a death sentence. Tears pricked my eyes. I didn’t have the energy to hide them.

“No. Fuck that, we’re ain’t done yet. You got a knife, right?” He was still staring into my face, but desperate anger had shifted to urgency.

“Yes, but it won’t cut through metal,” I said.

His grim expression told me that he had already figured that out.

“You can’t be serious. You want me to- I can’t,” There had to be another way.

“You got no choice. It’s my hand or my life.”

It took me a few seconds to process this. The only way out would be to cut off his hand. And I would have to be the one to do it.

“Fine. But I’ll do it first thing in the morning. We don’t have time to get out of the city before it gets dark, and I don’t want you bleeding out overnight.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you cared about me,” His shit eating grin was back. Only Merle could look this smug after discovering his hand was about to be cut off.

“Good job you know better then,” I smiled and sat next to him, looking out over the darkening city. At least we were stuck somewhere with an impressive view. The setting sun sent orange streaking through the sky, bathing buildings in a warm glow. I glanced to my side. Merle appeared to also be taking in the sunset in a rare moment of silence.

“I’d do the same for you ya know,” Merle said, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

“No you wouldn’t.” I replied. It wasn’t something that upset me, it was just a fact - if the roles were reversed, I had doubts that Merle would have stayed on this rooftop even for Daryl.

“Course I would. Yer one of the only people I can stand in that group, not to mention ya got a mighty fine ass,” He grinned over at me. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, course I do. I could stare at it all day,”

I hit his shoulder with mine.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I ain’t good with the mushy stuff, don’t push it,” He was still smiling, eyes looking into mine for once instead of straying to glance down my shirt.

“Sounds like you care about me, Merle. More than you usually let on at least,” I was teasing him but this moment meant a lot; in short, Merle was shit at showing anyone affection. For him, this was like a declaration of love.

“Yer not gonna make me say it again so drop it,” he huffed.

“I’m just kidding around. And I didn’t just stay here because you’re a good hunter,” I confessed, staring pointedly into the distance to avoid his eyes.

“Course ya didn’t, ain’t no way you’d let me die without getting a piece of this,” It seemed to be his way of lightening the mood, diverting the seriousness of the conversation.

“We should get some sleep, busy day tomorrow.”

When the hot sun awoke me the next morning, I found myself nestled into Merle’s side, head on his shoulder, his free arm wrapped around me. I took a moment to enjoy the feeling of his broad body against mine, before pulling away to wake him up. The sooner we were gone, the better.

“Mornin’ “ he grinned lazily.

“You ready?” I asked, and his expression dropped to one of determined focus.

“As I’ll ever be,”

I retrieved my knife and a lighter from one of the pockets of my rucksack. It would have to do as a means of sanitising the blade as I had very little in the way of medical supplies. Shrugging off the button down I wore over a tank top, I folded it ready to use as a bandage for Merle. I could have sworn his eyes slipped down to my cleavage, far more noticeable now the shirt was off, but I wasn’t in the mood to bring it up.

“Can I have your belt?” I asked.

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” He said, the implied innuendo obvious. He unbuckled it with his free hand and tugged it loose.

I strapped it around his forearm, tight as I could make it, a makeshift tourniquet that would hopefully do something to stop the bleeding. It had to be enough.

Merle reached inside his pocket, and withdrew a small bag of white powder.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” I asked, very aware of the dangers we’d face in the city even if he survived losing his hand. Merle being off his face wouldn’t do us any favours.

“Need a little somethin’ to take the edge off,” He tried to form his usual smug grin, but his mouth wavered slightly. I nodded. Who was I to make that decision for him?

I gave him a minute or so, and when he nodded at me, I took my knife to his wrist and began to cut. There was far more blood than I had thought. And despite Merle’s best efforts to remain stoic, and the effects of the drugs, he was in an unbelievable amount of pain. I had to fight the urge to just give up and cry in a corner, but I did it for him. Even when he begged me to stop, to just make the pain stop. His yelling had begun to attract walkers, a few were banging on the rooftop door and the longer this took the more there would be. He gripped my arm as I cut, hard enough to bruise.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I muttered over and over again as I finished, his hand dropping to the floor with a sickening thunk.

Merle was breathing heavily, gasping through the pain. I pressed my shirt against the wound, tying it tightly and leaving the belt in place. There was so much blood. On my hands, my pants, the rooftop.

“Stay there. I’m going to clear the stairwell, I’ll be right back.”

He nodded.

I unlocked the door and wedged my foot under the door to prevent it opening all the way, a walker slamming forward and right onto my knife. It slumped to the floor. Another was quick to take its place. I worked my way through several before they finally stopped coming. Hopefully only a few had been close enough to hear Merle.

I hurried back toward him. The bleeding seemed to be slowing slightly, though it still showed no signs of stopping. He was losing too much blood. But I wasn’t willing to face that reality.

“You think you can stand?”

“Course I can,” he replied through gritted teeth.

I grabbed his good arm and pulled him forward, helping him stand, putting the arm around my shoulders so I could take some of his body weight. He was heavy, but any help I could give him I would.

We walked to the door and I lead him down the stairwell; it wasn’t wide enough for the two of us side by side, but he leaned on my back and I did my best to steady him on the way down. He stumbled a couple of times, no doubt the blood-loss making him dizzy, but we moved as slowly as I dared, me supporting him when he needed it. At the bottom, another walker lunged towards us. It took me a moment to grab my knife and stick it between its eyes, and I kept the blade in my hand after that. One free hand would have to do to help Merle. It was strange, having to protect him like this. Normally I was certain he’d object to me coddling him like this, but he had no choice but to rely on me for once. We made it to a fire exit around the back of the building in a room with several gas stoves. Merle wasn’t looking his best, blood dripping through the makeshift bandage on his arm. He seemed to have the idea at the same time as me.

“Do it,” He nodded grimly and I grimaced, but didn’t hesitate to light the nearest stove, placing a metal tray on top on the flames to heat through enough to cauterise the stump of his wrist.

“We’re gonna make it back, you know. “

“I know,” He said, but it was easy to see the uncertainty in his eyes.

The metal tray seemed hot enough, and I could tell he was gathering the will to do it, slowly, reluctantly unwrapping the open wound. I wasn’t entirely sure Merle could bring himself to. Gently, I took his arm in my hands, unwrapping it myself. Instead of watching the shirt unravel, he stared down into my face. Despite the circumstances, he still made my cheeks hot with the intensity of his gaze which I somehow managed to meet. I reached up, hooking an arm around his neck and a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. He waited for me to move closer first, and when I leaned my face towards his, he wasted no time in bridging the gap between us with a searing kiss. He was perfectly distracted. It was a shame to waste this moment but I did what had to be done, and drove his wrist down onto the hot metal on the stove.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” He exclaimed, yanking his arm away from the stove, and I winced.

“Shit, I’m sorry, but the bleeding’s stopped, right?”

He glared at me through the pain. “You serious?”

“I said I’m sorry, and I did just stop you from bleeding to death,” I smiled tentatively, and he shook his head, still cursing.

“So ya kiss like that fer a distraction? I’d love ta know what the real thing feels like,”

Kissing him had been stupid. But I was in the mood to be stupid, and I couldn’t resist kissing him again. He somehow mustered up that stupid, endearing grin as I pulled him towards me, lips meeting as his good arm found my waist. I could lose myself in the feeling of kissing Merle, all teeth and tongues colliding with no need to be gentle. His hand scooped me in closer until I was pressed up against him, before drifting to my ass with a squeeze. I hummed in pleasure, forgetting to breathe as he kissed me harder. When we finally broke apart all I wanted was to lean back in and kiss him again and again, to stay like this, pressed as close against him as I could be, not thinking about anything else.

“Knew ya wanted a piece of this,” Merle smirked. God he was insufferable. But I was willing to suffer, so long as he kept kissing me like that.

#the walking dead #twd #merle dixon #merle dixon x reader #daryl dixon #twd fanfiction #t dog #oneshot #imagine #rick grimes #reader insert

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renatasfavourite · 3 years ago

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ཻ ུτέσσεραཻ ུ

blueberries : chapter 4

(pairing: Renata Glasc x E)

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in ur eyes - swablu

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↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

Volume: ■■■■■□□□

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What time is it ? is it morning already ? it doesn't matter anymore, my body is engulfed in her big muscular arms. God, time flies so fast when i'm with her. And that smell... that wonderful smell... shit. it's happening again. i'm falling. I remember us having an argument yesterday, and now...well, we're sleeping together. it's kinda funny to me.

I try to not giggle too loudly and decide to act as if i were still sleeping as i feel her hugging me thightly against her warm skin. I wouldn't mind staying like that for a whole day...

" I know you're awake. "

Damnit, i thought she wouldn't notice.

" look at you holding me so close to you, are we on familiar terms now ? " i asked putting myself even closer to her body, gently caressing her hips.

" we passed that milestone a long time ago, don't you think? " she answered back.

I laughed at her answer while she gently put her protestic arm on my head and stroke my hair, ending up dropping a kiss on it.

" Renata Glasc is such a romantic woman " i said, kinda teasing her.

She doesn't answer. That woman is an enigma. she never talks about herself, her tastes or her hobbies outside work. She's so intriging. She slowly detaches herself from me to sit down. Her arms and her back are filled with scars. They're all so big and deep... it hurts me knowing she got hurt that many times. What possibly happened i thought to myself. As i were about to touch one of her scars with my finger she suddendly grab my wrist so hard and her eyes that were filled with so much love a few seconds ago were now dark.

" I-i'm sorry Renata i should have asked before touching you. "

Renata seemed like she was lost in her thoughts for a few seconds, as if she was asking herself if she could allow me to touch her, if it was really safe for her to let me be this close. She slowly came back to herself and when she noticed how red my wrist was she jumped and fastly let go looking at me with worries in her eyes.

" I didn't mean to hurt you i apologise, those scars you see, they're deep, both literally and metaphorically. See that one ? " she said grabbing my hand and puting it on one of her scar on top of her chest. " It's from my first experience ever. I was young and wanted to be the best at what i was doing. Needless to say it's the last time i forgot to put protections on. "

I let out a

She didn't say anything back. Renata turned around to hide the tear that was slowly falling down.

" No one has ever said that to me before " she said.

" Well, there is a first time for everything right ? " i said back.

Renata turned around to face me again, and kissed me. While i was kissing her back she put her hands on my back and i put mine on her cheeks. The sensation feels like heaven, feels like home.

" Stay with me " she simply said, very seriously.

" What ? "

"Become my partners "

"Renata wait" i answered

"I'm being serious here " she said.

" I'm flattered by your proposition and i feel the same for you and i really do want to be your partners but maybe we should get to know each other before starting something ? "

"You've been working for me for the last 3 years,we already know each other enough to start something,and we'll know more with time" she answered.

" You look like a teenager in love Renata " i said.

" Well i do hope it's a compliment " she asked.

"Yes"

"Then i'm flattered Pet" she answered back.

" Let's get to know each other more Madam Glasc, i'm sure it will be beneficial "

" Sigh, alright, but only because you're beautiful " she said, agreeing to my demand.

I couldn't help but laugh. That woman will be the death of me. And here we are, in each others arms, laughing together. Maybe this is what love is. But as Renata said, only time will tell..

We stayed in the same position all day long. Hugging. Kissing. We even made love several times, only to hold each others closer everytime after. And just as i thought this whole history would just be a phase, i think it's in fact, it's just the beginning..

#renata glasc #league of legends #renata glasc x reader #renata league of legends #original character #Spotify

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lovieebby · 4 years ago

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The Crying Game

Poly!Oscar Issac x Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Summary: On a cold winter night, when Oscar’s sleep comes and goes, him and Pedro find themselves thinking differently when you cry.

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+!!!! SMUT SMUT SMUT!!!! ddlg themes, crying kink, kinda dub con if you rlly squint, vaginal penetration, bodily fluids, oral/m receiving, heavy dirty talk, poly relationship

Note: Meda and I where talking about me touching base on how my theory of pedro (and oscar) having a crying kink, so here it is! Hope you love it from the depths of my horny corner! AND THANK YOU @pinksdaydream FOR HELPING ME THIS MADE IT 1000 TIMES BETTER!!!! 😩💞

In the large king bed with the heater ridding the cold breeze of the outside snow, Oscar awoke to the glowing moon. His arm was draped over your waist while your legs tangled with Pedro’s, comfortable and calm in the meer hours of the night. Oscar had been tossing and turning most of the night yet didn’t realize he fell asleep when he woke up with his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

He felt his lashes flutter against the whisps of stray hairs from your now loose bun that had held your hair before you fell in your own sleep. He kept quiet for some time, listening to yours and Pedro’s breathing in hopes it would lull him back to sleep, but his mind and body were wide awake. Nights like these usually consisted of him sneaking out of the warm bed and creeping down stairs to the at home gym in the garage, though something different stirred awake. A little voice chanting erotic words and thoughts as you shifted unknowingly into his hardened member.

With slow and gentle movements, Oscar rolled you completely to your belly and propped your hips up slightly as he crawled behind your sleeping form. You groaned softly, making Oscar grin lazily when your legs spread to brase yourself. Even in your sleep you know your daddy’s touch and the thought made Oscar’s chest swell with pride at his little princess getting ready for him in her sleep.

He brought the blanket down just a tad, letting it lay on the back of your knees and pulling your nightie up your back. Your body still breathed evenly, sleeping peacefully which brought Oscar to spit loudly on your winking lips, bending impossibly close to your pussy to do it once more. He licked his spit through your folds and gathered it at your clenching hole as you mewled brokenly in the fluffy pillows.

You tried to stretch as Oscar folded his pants down, lining his cock up quickly to your entrance before you awoke. The bed dipped with his knees, restling the placement of the blanket and waking Pedro up with a quick intake of air. It took him a moment to understand the situation, but soon aware of what Oscar was doing by the time his cock was seethed completely into your cunt. Pedro’s smile was small and pleasant, watching Oscar fuck you awake. His hand came to lay lazily ontop of your head and brushed the hairs covering your face as your brows furrowed in confusion.

Oscar was slow with his thrusts, but pushing deep within you, making your hips tilt upwards. He felt your walls constrict and relax in one flush movement, your cunt spooked at first but realizing who and what had entered, relaxing its velvet walls around Oscar’s thick cock.

You muttered something under your breath as your heavy eyes opened slowly, Pedro being the first person you see while your body jults and withers. You began to pant in pleasure when your mind caught up with the real world, Pedro’s warm palm pressing on your cheek as you moaned brokenly.

“Someone’s awake,” Pedro cooed, his voice thick with sleep, his eyes trailing to Oscar’s hands fisting your night dress.

“G’mornin’ baby girl,” Oscar grunted, his hips stilling to your ass only to pick up his pace.

You grunted lowly, pouting your lips as Oscar slid out then pushing deep in a slow thrust. His breath was hot and shallow on your overly warm skin, sending your senses haywire at the sudden pleasure.

“P-papa?” You mewled, nose scrunched as your palms came to rub your eyes though Oscar’s thrusts knocked your head closer to the bed, “Daddy!”

Pedro chuckled at your squeal as Oscar hummed in delight with a lazy smirk. You hiccuped with a cry, your arms pushing you up to see your lovers clearly but Oscar and Pedro both had the thought of keeping you down. Pedro’s hand holding your shoulder blades down while Oscar held your hips closer to his. You cried again, mumbling incoherent words as a plea.

“Up! Let me up!” You cried in the sheets, nuzzling your nose in them.

“Jus’ wait baby— Don’t this feel good?” Oscar grunted, thrusting his cock in and stilled to walk closer to you by his knees, making his presence known. The pressure made your eyes roll back with a short hitch of breath.

“S-so go-good daddy…” You panted as you looked at Pedro, your eyes gloomy and teary eyed.

Pedro’s gut dropped, and not the kind where he felt guilty or bad, it was a raw feeling that he’d do anything and everything to see you cry, whether it was for him or Oscar. Pedro released your shoulders and sat up quickly to grab Oscar’s attention.

“Look look look.” He whispered, pulling your hair away from your soft and drowsy face, “Look at that…”

You sniffled when Oscar peeked at your damp cheeks and heavy eyes, your pants deep and erratic as you blew them into the sheets. He groaned at the sight of you. Your hair messy and untamed with your cheeks pressed to the soft bed as your body slumped in relief when he ceased his thrusts. Oscar quickly pulled out and turned you around, your back thudding on the bed in a bounce as you squealed in surprise.

“God fucking damnit princess.” He said, perching your legs up to your chest as you looked down at his gleaming cock.

Pedro whistled lowly, drawing your attention to your Papa before Oscar plummeted back into you. This time he could see every inch of you perfectly, your pussy fluttering to be filled and the sheer fabric that covered your chest that did little to conceal anything. Pedro could see it too, itching to rip your nighty straight down your chest to fondle with them, pitching and pulling until you come on Oscar’s cock.

Before you could count to three, Daddy’s hands were wiping your tears with a teasing coo, while Papa stretched the fabric of your dress down your chest to make your breasts exposed to them. You gasped and whined at their pulling and pushing, feeling like a bone for two hungry dogs. You cried again while your Daddy’s cock relentlessly pounded into you with need as your Papa twisted and tugged on your peaked nipples.

The fingers, cock and dirty whispers were too much. It was a toe curling burn that crept up your spine and throughout your ligaments; a coil that was about to snap. You couldn’t help but to bend your back into a painful arch and beg loudly for your release.

“P-please!” You moaned, thrusting your hips up to meet Oscar as your body ached for anything. A shove, a touch, a smack. Anything would be perfect to your release. “Daddy please!”

You looked at Oscar as you pleaded, but before he could answer, you turned your head to Pedro, screaming his name without a care of how pathetic your voice sounded.

“What do you need sweetie?” Pedro asked, coming closer to pull your head in his lap while he sat up against the headboard, “Is daddy and papa not giving you everything you want?” Oscar chimed, his warm hand coming to rest on the base of your neck.

“N-no! I-I have to cum! Please let me cum Daddy!” You defended, tilting your head back and forth to beg to your lovers. “Papa!”

Oscar moaned as fresh tears fell down your puffy cheeks, his cock bouncing in the warm walls of your cunt as his bollocks tightened. He was ready to blow his release, but stopped his movements and pulled out, making you whine as you cried harder. He sat back on his heels with a groan, his hand running over your slickened folds and stretched cunt.

“What about Papa? Hmm baby? You gonna give him some love before you cum?” He cooed with a pout, his head tilting as you nodded your head fast.

It was a perfect way to prolong his release, and Pedro knew it too. An all knowing smirk graced Pedro’s lips as he bit his tongue. His cock was impossibly hard in his fleece pants, hanging heavy on his thick thighs, clenching every moment you moaned and mewled.

“You look so pretty on Papa’s cock princess. Go show me and Papa yeah?” Oscar’s words were hypnotic, dripping from his lips like honey as he persuaded you.

He gripped your chin gently, rubbing your rosey bottom lip with his thumb, entranced by the thought of you perfectly seated on Pedro’s cock. You moved your head quickly when Pedro’s hands came down to rub the rounds of your breasts, your cheek laying lazily on his bicep as you looked at his darkened eyes and crazed peppered hair swirled around his beautiful face.

“May I have your cock Papa?” You asked sweetly, jutting your lips as you rose your chest for him to grope you more.

“Ah, using your manners? Such a good little girl I see.” Pedro adored, your eyes watery and wide while your lips pouted, he couldn’t say no. He’d be a fool if he did.

He didn’t wait for you to respond, hooking his arms under yours and lifting you up to sit in his lap. His legs where spread out before your ass landed on his thighs. You wiggled back, cooing and mewling as your Papa fumbled to barely pull his pants down to forcefully place you on his cock. It was a different feeling than Oscar— uncut and thicker, fulfilling and smooth. Pedro’s manhood stretched you further and made you squeal and squirm, him jabbing and demanding at your cervix, unlike Daddy’s who sweetly kisses your endings.

“Show Papa what you can do, let Daddy see it.” Oscar grunted, laying on his elbows as he gripped his cock, letting you and Pedro watch him pleasure himself at the sight of you two.

Pedro was the first to move as you drooled over Oscar’s show, watching intently as his big hands covered his slippery cock. Your breath hitched with Pedro’s fast and deep thrusts, your hips working in speed to match your Papa’s momentum. This had to be one of the favored mornings, your cunt onto his cock while you watched Daddy fumble with his, it made you moan louder with your ass bouncing harder on Pedro. And the man loved every minute of it, watching your eyes gloss as you watched Oscar and your sweet juices coating yourself along with him. It made a lewd squelch, making Pedro pant his moans as he squeezed your waist to keep your bouncing hard and deep.

You were repeatedly being impaled upon Pedro’s cock, it tore you in two so deliciously. There was a burn from him stretching you but it added on to the pleasurable ache between your legs. You were starting to lose yourself in the pleasure, your hips starting to stutter. Whines starting leaving your mouth, you didn’t think you could handle it anymore. You were still reeling from Oscar, the way he pushed into your unguarded walls to right now with how tempting he looks. Your body was buzzing as Pedro started taking over.

“Can’t handle it, Peach?” Pedro mocked as he flipped you onto your back, your movements too slow for his liking. He slid back into you and started pounding hard and fast, making you yelp as you covered your mouth. You were scared of the sounds that would come out if you didn’t.

You used your other hand to press it against Pedro’s tummy, trying to get him to let up on his pace.

“Uh uh, baby. You can handle Papa, show me how much of a good girl you can be and take it.” Oscar said as Pedro pushed your hand away.

“No! It’s too big.” You whined, making both Oscar and Pedro laugh at you, though the laughter soon turned into guttural groans as more tears cascaded from your eyes. Both men didn’t think they would be able to last much longer.

From the side view of Oscar to the way Pedro pounded his cock, you could help but mewl and shake as you held your legs up to your chest. The tilt of your hips drove Pedro’s cock deeper as your fingernails created half moons on your soft skin. You clenched and pulsed around you Papa, your eyes becoming blurry with tears while your pretty little head fogged. You couldn’t hold your delayed release even if you wanted to, it came quick and hard, making your mouth drop open in a silent squeal. Your tongue jutted out slightly as your eyes crossed.

“Ooh yeah baby— Fuck! Su-ch a good girl!” Pedro gasped, smirking with an open mouth as he imprinted your fucked face in his memories.

Oscar released his hand from his own cock like it had burnt him, panting as his member flexed for more. The sight was beautiful; your curvy body bent deliciously, your face flushed as you looked at the beds canopy with your mouth wide. The veins in your neck protruding out, blood pumping quickly before you finally spoke out.

“Fuck!” You squealed brokenly, the tears finally falling down your sweet cheeks. “More more more!”

Your mumbled words were your lovers dream, a blissed demand that any man would oblige. Pedro groaned loudly, shifting his hips deeper into your milking walls as they enchanted him to stay put. Oscar watched with awe as he quickly moved to you, his knees quaking as he did. He placed his cock head close to your mouth and you didn’t think twice as you opened your mouth quickly to trap his head in your warm awaiting mouth.

“Is this what you want sweetheart? Huh?” Oscar asked, Daddy shuttered, his eyes fluttering closed as he smiled wide like a cat that got the cream, “Both of your pretty holes filled?”

“Look so pretty baby…” Pedro mumbled with a curt grunt, pulling and pushing slowly to keep himself from blowing his warm seed into your inviting canal.

You rose your neck, letting Daddy slide easily in your throat. Small mewls and moans were gurgled around him as your eyelids hooded over your blown out pupils, attempting to smile lazily around him. Oscar fucked your face, slow and agonizing at the first few thrusts, then became erratic and aggressive like he was claiming every inch of your mouth. The sight persuaded Pedro to move, captured by yours and Oscar’s grunts and muffled moans. The feeling of Pedro invading your warm walls and Oscar nudging the back of your throat had you close to a second orgasm.

Pedro could tell you were close by the way you were starting to close your thighs, a clear sign that you wanted more but didn’t know how to ask for it.

“Do you want another, peach? Is that what you’re asking for?” Pedro asked. He enunciated every word with a thrust, making you squeal.

“Ask nicely, you’re so good at using your manners peachy girl.” Oscar said, forcing himself deeper into your warm throat.

You loved hearing his grunts, sending your nerves closer and closer to another release, as did Pedro’s unrelenting pace. The pad of Pedro’s thumb found your swollen and puffed clit, the texture of his thumb made you jerk at the sudden contact. He started rubbing in a circular motion, the build up didn’t take long; stars bursting behind your eyes as your back arched off the bed. Oscar came with an erratic thrust of his hips just as Pedro did, filling your greedy holes with bliss.

You eagerly gulped down all that your Daddy had to offer with weak whimpers as your cunt filled to the brim with your Papa’s hot cum. You willingly and joyfully took every drop your lovers gave, filling you up sweetly and beautifully while you panted and moaned.

The moment Oscar released his grip from your tangled hair, you gasped loudly, your heart pounding in astonishment of the lewdness you succumbed to. You didn’t regret a minute of the rough and passionate fucking, you loved every single thing about and secretly hoped for more. But the flushed cheeks and heavy eyes of Oscar told you that the silver haired fox was done for the moment.

You panted with a soft smile as Oscar slumped back on his heels while Pedro’s soft hands caressed your soft tummy, pushing gently to watch his release seep out of your puffed folds. He groaned again, rough and loud, his cheeks puffing in a long exhale while his eyes locked on his cock leaving your body as well as his seed.

It was a dream come true before your friend the sun rose with its bright rays of life, warming the cold ground and awakening the winter birds. But little did the sun know, you danced with the full moon in the most luxurious way.

Taglist will be added in a reblog!!!

#poly!oscar x pedro fic #poly!oscar x pedro x reader fic #poly!oscar x pedro x reader smut #poly!oscar x pedro x reader fanfic #Oscar issac fanfic #oscar issac smut #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #poly!oscar x pedro x reader fanfiction #poly!oscar x pedro x reader smut fic

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hoe-imaginess · 4 years ago

Text

just Hawks things

commissioned by anonymous. vaguely smutty hcs included

True Bird Hours: he sleeps most comfortably sitting up with his wings fluffed and folded snugly around him, so he can nuzzle his face into them for the warmth

Yes when he’s got his boo with him, they are also invited to snuggle up in his wings

More birdie things bc why not:

He has an unconscious habit of picking through your hair: brushing fingers through it, fiddling with little pieces, nuzzling his face against it. He’s trying to preen you ok. Please let him. If you are not preened at least once a day… he has not done his job

He also unconsciously fluffs his wings out and makes them a little bigger, more noticeable, when he’s flirting/talking to someone he finds particularly attractive. The bird instinct in him is screaming SHOW OFF YOUR WINGS SHOW OFF YOUR FEATHERS SHOW OFF YOUR PRETTY COLOR MMmmmm plsss look at this plumage bb

But he snaps out of it when he realizes what he’s doing because… omg it’s so embarrassing

His sharp eyes also hone in and out when he’s looking at you because oof he is FIXATED on you. He likes what he sees he is looking DIRECTLY

If you’re angry at him and lock yourself in the bathroom, he sits outside the door like awww come on babe. Don’t be like that. *slips a feather under the door to tickle you*

After a long day of hero work when he comes home to see you, he has either two moods when he gets into bed with you: he knocks tf out, or he can’t stfu

You’ll really be out here trying to get some sleep and he is just running his mouth about all the hero work he had that day, how windy it was, how annoying one of his sidekicks was being—

Those intimate little forehead touches where you just… sit there and relax and simply exist together, eyes closed as you breathe in each other’s presence….. big Hawks mood. He feels so connected to you. He loves it

He doesn’t get jealous very often; he’s too busy for that and he knows how badly jealousy can spiral and ruin a relationship

But when he is jealous and feeling particularly beat up about it, he staves it off by keeping busy with hero work: something to take his mind off of the problem, so that he can think more rationally on it later

He simps for you so hard if you give him a massage. Hero work is tough ya know. He’s got a lot of tension in those shoulders and on his back. I mean, those wings are working overtime all day. Knead out all those knots in his muscles and oof you are getting his unmatched appreciation… and possibly his dick (because yeah, massages… get him really hard really fast)

He’s such a kisser. Kissing fiend. Serial kisser. Forehead kisses, nose kisses, NECK KISSES, throat kisses, hand kisses, thigh kisses (especially what‘s between your thighs)

He also cannot keep his teeth off of you: lots of nibbling and playful gnawing where he knows you’re most sensitive

That being said he tries REALLY hard not to leave hickies even though SHIT he really wants to sometimes. Sucking on that sensitive skin just below your ear reallllllllly gets him going. He wants to latch on and suck and bite while pressed up against you and just… wants to mark you up… whew it’s a struggle not to. His restraint is commendable

Oh and yes he WILL kiss your toes

Let him worship those feet and ankles alright

I’m not done talking about his kisses ok he’s such… a kissing expert. It’s unfair

You want slow, intimate, tentative kisses that get your body hot and tingly and anxious for more? He will deliver. He loves lazy makeouts, and the little teasing nip he gives to your bottom lip just kajshkfjhsd delicious

But oh, you want hungry, desperate, wet kisses too? Yes please. He knows exactly what he’s doing. No awkward lip-sucking and no awkward tongue-poking in your mouth; he takes the lead until you’re dizzy from just the kisses alone. And his hands are running all over you while he’s doing it. You don’t even know how he’s giving you so much attention because you can barely think of anything but his lips on you, let alone put your own hands to work. When you try to reciprocate and reach for his pants you’re fumbly and clumsy because damn his kisses are literally breath-taking. It’s okay though, he’ll take care of everything. King of multi-tasking

Just imagine him giving you little nibbling kisses along your jawline until he moves back up to your lips, and bites the bottom one gently while looking into your eyes skjdhkjdhgd

Hawks is very sorry but marriage is not really on his agenda any time soon, if ever. Just being your man is enough for him

In fact, please tell people he’s your man. Boyfriend, partner, lover, booty call… yeah those are fine too

But your man? God… He finds that… extremely fcking hot

He has home-cooked meals like twice a year. He does NOT have the time. Honestly he wishes he did have more time, because there’s only so much on-the-go street food he can manage before he starts getting sick of it. No matter how delicious it is

So if you happen to catch him when he’s free and wrangle him down for dinner, he’s shook. He feels absolutely PAMPERED when you cook for him. The food makes him drool but so does your cute ass cooking for him DAMN he feels so… he feels so Domestic™

You might need to… shoot him a text when you’re cooking next time so he can zoom by and grab a plate through your window. Domestic Fast Food. Give him that Scone App the Beef shit please he’s taking your food to go and he will bring the tupperware back later ok

His sidekicks look at him like… wtf?? when he returns to patrol with food. They’re like… Hawks, where did you get that? Where did you even go??

Him slurping his spaghetti: Uhhhhhhh sorry but I’m not sharing this

Oof it’s so hard for him when he’s missing you

He’s so horribly busy he’ll go weeks without so much as seeing your face. Every time he finds some spare time to go see you, even if it’s just twenty minutes, something comes up. He loves spending time with you but hero work has to come first

And forget keeping up through text or call. Sometimes he doesn’t have time for that either. Makes him feel like an asshole, and he gets these little pangs of anxiety when he thinks that you’ll start resenting him for his career, that you’ll start feeling neglected

He would definitely understand if that made you want to end the relationship though. It’s gonna hurt, but if that’s what you need, he understands—because those little pangs of anxiety aren’t just because he thinks you might leave him, but because he doesn’t want you to feel like you aren’t worth it

You are, you’re absolutely worth it and you’re absolutely a good and wonderful person. And he doesn’t want you to think otherwise just because he can’t give you what you deserve. Don’t let his busy lifestyle make you feel invalid because damnit he thinks you’re so valid and he tries so hard to let you know that

That being said… sorry, but he forgets birthdays sometimes

Doesn’t snore, even when he’s utterly exhausted, but just… sighs…. very cute-like

Otherwise he’s dead silent when he’s asleep, it’s almost scary. He’s alert at all times. Very light sleeper

One sound and he is 👁👄👁 awake

Lost his shit when he discovered snapchat filters because omg they’re so fun

When it comes to how soon he says I love you, it really depends

He falls fast and hard, which really throws him for a loop because he’s a composed and rational guy otherwise

He doesn’t have so much pride that he won’t tell you he loves you when he knows he means it. It’s just a matter of when he’s prepared to tell you

He doesn’t have one preferred nickname for you. He just has… so many. It’s like he spins a wheel every morning to decide what he’s going to call you

Sweetheart, honey, hon’, babe, baby, sweet thing, a simple girl/boy

The baby bird, chickadee, chick stuff is reserved for when he wants to see that sour, unamused look on your face because god they’re such corny nicknames and he knows it

Rainy days suck because they weigh his feathers down, make his wings harder to flap and thus all the more difficult to get around with. His quirk is next to useless when there’s heavy rain so he’s out of commission the whole day. Just sulks around his agency until the weather clears

But days of light showers are nice! Hawks loves giving his wings a little sprinkle, just a little cleanse. It’s so cute when he shakes the wings to dry them out

The first time he gets his heart broken… oof

He’s very socially adept due to his hero training. He’s also well-versed in flirting because that’s just part of the charisma he needs as a hero. Unfair as it might be he’s also not above charming people to get what he wants

But actual, truthful, organic romance?… He’s a little lost on that

So when he finds somebody he really comes to love, only for that love to be taken away, he’s completely floored. It rattles him and it’s a brutal reminder of the dangers of getting emotionally involved with other people when he’s got such a complicated, demanding life. The heartache is too much and he can’t focus and he hates it

It eats at him for a long time. Something’s changed. He doesn’t take sentiment for granted anymore. He comes to fully respect—also resent—the way love can utterly change perspective

Romantically inept as he may be sometimes, he’s… still an absolute SIMP of a man

Do not ever talk down to yourself when he’s around because he goes full cheerleader mode

He just wants to encourage you to find some of that self-love okay he thinks you’re fuckn PRECIOUS and DESERVING and AMAZING—how can you not see that you’re all those things???

He’s so proud when you start sticking up for yourself, or when you speak your mind. Even if it’s small, stupid things like actually telling the waiter that he brought you the wrong food instead of meekly going oh… ok… I guess I can eat this instead

like NO!! STICK UP FOR YOURSELF BABY!! He wants you to be the BEST you

And when he asks you “What do you feel like doing today?”, don’t even think about pulling some “Whatever you want to do, Hawks” bs on him because NOPE. Tell him what YOU want. Please don’t be afraid to have a voice ok because he loves it when you’re confident and clear with what you want

#hawks #takami keigo #hawks x reader #hawksy things

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samwinchestersgf · 4 years ago

Text

obsession (part three)

prompt: “oh my god! he’s obsessed with you!”

warnings: horror, gore, obsessive weirdo, protective sam. language. nothing worse than what’s in the show, but still unsettling

read part one (here) and part two (here)

another cold slice of the blade makes me thrash in my seat. i could give up. i could give him what he wants, but that wouldn’t end the pain. besides, external pain in easier to deal with than internal pain.

my head slumps and my chin is almost touching my chest. bryan tilts my chin up with the knife. “you can always just tell me you love me, not sam. this can all stop.”

“it seems like you’re enjoying this too much. i’ll pass.” i glare.

i cry out as he cuts through my jeans for the fourth time. he yells, “say it!”

“go to hell!” i yell back.

he lowers himself, so that he’s eye level to me. “darling, it’s been a day. sam isn’t coming. so, you can either keep wasting both of our time, or admit that you love me.”

“i’m not a liar.” my voice is pure venom.

he grabs me by my cheek. “so say you love me.”

i spit at him. he wipes the spit off of his cheek and walks away, his hands behind his head. “i don’t know what to do with you.”

“you could let me go.” i propose.

“and have to go to the police, no way.” he scoffs.

“you’re really amateur at this.” i remark.

“i’ve never fucking kidnapped someone before.” he pauses. “i’ve never felt this way about someone before.”

i look at him pensively. “i don’t know if you know this or not, but this is not normal.”

“being in love in normal,” he argues.

“it’s beyond that, now. you’re not in love with me; you’re obsessed with me.” i correct.

“is there really that big of a difference?” he rolls his eyes.

“huge difference.” i laugh.

he pulls up a chair. “teach me.”

“teach you?” i raise an eyebrow.

“teach me the difference.” he demands again, sitting down.

“well, first of all, when you love someone, you don’t speak to them like that.” i start, deciding to play along. “because you’d never hurt them on purpose, even if it was for their own good.”

“you’re making things up,” he scoffs.

“i’m not. when you love someone, it hurts you to see them in pain. so, if you love someone, you learn to let them go.” i tell him.

i remember back to the time i had to let someone go. sam liked this other girl, and even though it killed me, i stayed quiet. sure, it was partially because i didn’t have the nerve to do anything else, but even if i did, i wouldn’t have. he was happy. i consider telling bryan this story, but it would only make him mad.

“what does being in love feel like?” he asks.

“calm.” i answer. “you can still get butterflies, but being in love with someone means you’re comfortable enough around them to be yourself.”

bryan raises an eyebrow, “are you in love with sam?”

i laugh darkly. i feel my mental walls breaking. it’s been a day. it’s dark, and cold, and dusty. warm, red liquid is everywhere, and i taste copper. i don’t have the energy to keep fighting.

“sam isnt even my boyfriend.” i blurt. “we’re not in love yet, but i love him.”

“you lied?” he stands up.

“yes, i fucking lied. i’m stupid enough to get into a stranger’s car, but i’m not stupid enough to let him think i’m single.” i laugh again.

he cuts my hand. “that’s for lying.”

“cut my tongue out.” i roll my eyes.

“that’s disgusting.” he drops the knife and walks away.

“what? am i too much for you now?” i call out.

“yes! you’re too fucking much for me right now.” he blows up. “it wasn’t supposed to be like this!”

“love isn’t all roses, bryan.” his name is like belladonna.

“well, it’s gonna be. you’re gonna crack, okay?” he yells.

“can you put up with me that long? i can be more annoying, just wait.” i match his volume.

“i don’t know! will you shut up?” he rubs his temples.

i hum, “you don’t love me.”

he marches over and grabs my face roughly, slamming his lips against mine in the most unpleasant way. i stay still, not breathing, not blinking, not moving, until he pulls away. it doesn’t feel anywhere near the feeling i had when sam kissed me.

“why won’t you kiss me?” he looks offended.

“you fucking cut me.” i scoff.

he pinches his nose. “i’m not patient enough for this.”

“let me go?”

“or i could just leave.”

“further proving my point that you don’t actually love me.” i call out to him.

“i do love you, and i always will. i want you stop saying i don’t, because you don’t know how i’m feeling.” he blows up again.

i shake my head. i can’t even respond to him anymore. i’m tired, and cold. i’m starting lose hope. i’m starting to lose faith in sam.

he picks up the knife again, sighing. he lazily runs in across my left cheek, making the two gashes that are already there sting even more.

suddenly, i can hear sirens. i lift my head up and look at bryan. “think they’re coming here?”

“you better hope they aren’t.” he knicks my jaw.

the sirens grow closer and closer, until it’s evident that they’re right outside. bryan freezes, dropping the knife. he looks around, frantic. there’s a door behind me, but he’s not that stupid. he knows they’ll catch him.

“what are you gonna do, buddy?” i ask, smug.

“shut up!” he shouts, “i can’t think!”

the door is kicked down. a swarm of police officers walk in, catching bryan red handed. “hands up!”

he throws his hands up. “i can explain.”

“step away from the girl!” the police officers shout.

i let myself relax a little bit, until bryan speaks. “i was just coming in here to save her.”

“is that true, ma’am?” they ask.

“no.” i say coldly.

the police whisk him away, and emergency responders rush in, untying me and helping me outside. the bright sun outside makes my eyes sting and water. in the corner of my eye, i see sam stand up and get out of his car. they walk me over to him.

“do you think we need to take her to the hospital, mr. winchester? she’s not in any medical danger.” one emergency responder asks.

“i’ve got her, thank you.” he nods. he slips his arm under my shoulders and helps me into the passenger seat of his car.

he doesn’t speak until the door is shut. his voice is tender, and quiet. “what did he do to you?”

i can’t even look at him. “nothing too bad.”

“you’re exactly like dean...” he shakes his head, huffing gently. i want to respond, but i don’t know what i’d say.

“i’m-“

“don’t say your sorry.” he stops me. “just stop.”

i shake my head and sigh. the buzzing of the engine and the low hum of the radio lures me dangerously close to falling asleep. my body dares me to try to stay awake, but i decline. i let my body have what it wants. i sleep.

—————————————

“ah... damnit.” i hiss, eyes still closed.

“i was hoping you’d stay asleep for this part.” sam remarks quietly.

“i’m fine, i’m fine.” i open my eyes and look down at him. he’s cleaning the cuts on my legs with alcohol, and damn, it hurts. “we... we obviously need to have a conversation.”

“do you really want to do that now?” he raises an eyebrow, not pausing.

“might as well rip off both bandaids at once.” i joke. “go ahead, yell.”

“i’m not gonna yell.” he states calmly.

“you want to.” i insist.

“i don’t want to yell,” he restates. “are you gonna listen if i don’t?”

“i’ll listen.” i nod quietly, taking a sharp inhale when he starts cleaning the next wound.

“i care about you, so, so much. i thought you understood that.” he doesn’t look at me yet. i remember two nights ago when he kissed me.

“i understand it, sam.” i respond.

“then, why would you go out and do something reckless like that? do you have any idea how terrified i was all day?” his voice breaks. “i tracked your phone to his house, and i tracked it to that abandonded place, and the whole time, i was terrified.”

“i’m sorry, sam.” my chest drops.

“why did you do it?” he asks, bandages a cut.

“i wanted to let him know that i wasn’t gonna talk to him anymore,” i swallow.

“you couldn’t have texted him? or, waited for me get home? or, hell, at least have told me where you were going?” he questions.

“i wasn’t thinking,” i admit.

“i know that,” he sighs and finally looks up at me. “i’m not even mad.”

“it would be easier if you were,” my voice breaks in sync with my heart when i see his eyes. his expression is hard, but there’s a hint of softness and worry that makes me want to crumble.

“i already have someone in my life that is stupidly brave, y/n.” he drops his cleaning supplies and grabs my hand.

i squeeze his hand ever so slightly. “yeah?”

“i... i don’t want you to be that person. i want you to be cautious.” he rubs my hand with his thumb.

“that’s just not me.” i swallow.

“i don’t wanna lose you. i just got you; i can’t lose you.” he reiterates.

i sit all the way up. i hesitate, my eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips, and in one swift motion, i close the distance. despite the butterflies in my stomach, i’m calm. i pull back quietly, letting out a slow breath.

he doesn’t say a word. we both already know what he’s thinking. he’s extra gentle when he resumes cleaning my wound. when he’s finished, he just looks at me for a second, and then gets up to go put the supplies away.

nerves course through my. i clear my throat and call out. “sam?”

he turns around. “hm?”

“don’t leave me.” i shake.

he walks back over and wraps me in a tight hug, kissing my forehead. “i won’t.”

—————————————

thank you guys sooo much for the overwhelming support on this series! if you like what you see, you could go ahead and follow me ;)

here’s my tag list for this series!@patrickfluegers @vicmc624 @vampire7595 @heyyy-hey-babyyy @eternal-maniac

#sam x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester one shot #sam winchester #sam and dean #sam winchester imagine #supernatural #supernatural imagines

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anonniemousefics · 4 years ago

Text

Stars In The Darkness

Originally posted on AO3

Fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom | Kaz + Inej

Word count: 9,042

****Rating: NSFW (aged up characters)****

This is the conclusion to The Trouble With Wanting series, companion piece to Wildfire

TW for PTSD, heavy angst. An obligatory quarantine fic cuz I was in quarantine when I wrote this, lol.

KAZ

No mourners. No funerals.

Kaz Brekker leaned over the new porcelain sink in the bathroom attached to The Slat. He clutched both sides, sweat pouring from his forehead.

No mourners. No funerals.

He’d been saying the phrase so long, it had started to lose its meaning. For that he hated himself. Did anyone at all even understand what it meant? Had he ever even told anyone?

No mourners. No funerals.

Jordie had died alone, forgotten. No funeral. Not a single mourner. And he’d loved Jordie. His big brother had been his hero, his whole world, and no one else knew what the world had lost.

This alone should have crushed him. It would have. Instead, he made it his calling card. Jordie Rietveld, the original Crow. He didn’t need mourners. He didn’t need a funeral. No one did.

Because if the world hadn’t mourned Jordie, why should it mourn anyone else?

His stomach was threatening to heave again, and he white-knuckled the sink, breathing hard. Fuck. It had been years since it had been this bad. He stared at his bloodshot eyes in the mirror, demanding he get a fucking grip on himself.

No mourners. No funerals.

He thought he had been free. He’d spent well over a year on the puzzle of Inej Ghafa, and he thought that could have been enough. She loved him, she’d said so. And, gods, he loved her.

He’d been a fool to think that would be enough.

Now reality was sinking in with every toll of the plague alarm. He hadn’t banished any ghosts. He hadn’t buried any bodies. All he’d managed was to condition himself like a dumb lap dog, performing a trick so he could get a treat. And all the while, the dead had waited. And all the while, Jordie had watched.

And now Ketterdam would have its pound of flesh. Because he could blame Pekka Rollins until he was old and grey, but what had killed Jordie Rietveld had always been the plague. And there was no fighting the plague.

No mourners... No funerals…

It sounded insane now, because what the fuck was he supposed to do when the plague took Inej, too? Was he really going to stand there, stoic and unmoving, while the bodymen took her away? Was he really going to go on living, knowing her final resting place was a mass grave?

He’d been a fool. Such a damn, stupid fool.

And now he really couldn’t breathe. He was a fish out of water, his vision blurring as his throat closed around every inhale.

“Kaz!” Someone was pounding on the bathroom door. “Kaz, let me in.”

How many days until the bodies started piling up? How long did he have? Was there any way to get them out of the city? They all needed to get out. Inej, Jesper, Wylan. Anika, Pim, Rotty, Roeder. It was the only way. The only way to keep from losing everything again.

“Kaz, I will break down this door. Answer me, damnit.”

The king of Ravka owed him favors. Maybe it wasn’t too late to call them in—

INEJ

Fuck it.

Inej threw all of her weight into a massive kick, just above the bathroom doorknob. The door rattled and bowed, and the flimsy lock ripped through the doorframe as the door swung open.

Inside, Kaz staggered back from the sink, pale and perspiring. She’d never seen him looking so sloppy in her life. He hadn’t changed out of his dark sleeping trousers from the morning, but had managed to throw on a white undershirt that was now sweat-stained. And if he was startled, it lasted only a moment before he glared at the broken doorframe.

“Did you forget how to pick a lock?” he growled.

“Did you forget how to unlock a door?” Inej retorted. “I’ve been here almost an hour – how long have you been in here?”

But when she took a step towards him, he flinched back, holding a hand out to keep her away, and it was like they were nothing but street trash teenagers all over again. A knife twisted in Inej’s chest as she saw how his breathing labored, his gaze wouldn’t meet hers. For nearly a year, he’d made slow, steady progress with touch – so much so, she’d almost forgotten what his suffering looked like.

Now, it was worse than ever. He was pressing himself back against the far wall, clamping a hand over his mouth like he was trying not to be sick.

“Breathe,” she told him, calmly. “Just breathe, Kaz. We’re here, together, safe in The Slat. Breathe.”

Kaz clenched his fists at his sides and drew in a stubborn, fighting breath through his nose. Outside, the plague alarms tolled.

“Those goddamn bells,” he rasped.

“I know, they’re awful,” Inej agreed. “When you’re feeling better, I’ll climb up and dismantle them.”

He opened his eyes long enough to shoot her an irritated glance.

“They serve a crucial function, Wraith.”

“Ok. I’ll leave them alone.”

“They’re preventing the spread of disease.”

“I said I’d leave them alone! Take a breath.”

And Kaz slid his back against the wall until he came to sit on the floor, defeated and spent.

KAZ

He was equal parts relieved she was back and terrified she was here with him. When he’d told her to get as far away as she could, he’d meant it. If she could get away from the necrotic infection that was his Ketterdam, she could live, and he could live knowing at least she was safe.

And now he was angry because why couldn’t she just listen to him? What did she know about firepox? What did she know about surviving a mindless, faceless killer?

He tried to heave a deep breath, but his throat felt like it was closing in. Bloated, dead flesh crowded against his ribs, his arms, his face, dragging him deeper toward the cold, unyielding darkness. He couldn’t stop shaking.

“I went to the docks,” came Inej’s calm voice. He was aware that she’d sat on the tile floor across from him, and he wasn’t sure yet if it made it better or worse. Just that morning, he’d had her bare and in his bed, writhing in his sheets and calling his name, and now he could hardly look at her without imagining her dead.

“You went to the docks,” he echoed, trying to find the present.

“Made sure the crew could find safe lodging for the foreseeable future,” Inej went on. “They’re saying it started in West Stave. Twelve new cases since yesterday. But I think our chances are pretty slim at this point. You’ve been chained to your desk for weeks, and I only docked yesterday. And we spent the evening arguing and pouting instead of going out.”

“I don’t pout.”

“It was me. I was pouting.”

“This is helping. Keep talking.”

“Bad news is they’ve shut down all businesses, so The Crow Club’s empty.”

“Fuuuck.”

“Good news is you and I now have unlimited liquor for the duration of this quarantine. And you look like you could use some. I’ve wanted to learn to mix drinks anyway. I could make you that fruity pink thing Sturmhond got sloshed on.”

“Dirtyhands doesn’t get sloshed on fruity pink things.”

“No one needs to know.”

His throat had opened up, and Kaz drew in a long, deep, shaking breath. The darkness had stopped its impending approach, and he was suddenly exhausted. His eyelids felt swollen when he opened his eyes again and looked over at Inej. His brave, brilliant girl. She was cross-legged in front of him, still dressed for the sea: tight olive-green trousers and a loose white blouse, her hands in her fingerless gloves and her long, oil-black braid resting over one shoulder. She was beautiful and commanding and alive, and it made his heart ache.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” she asked. Her voice was softer now; she’d exchanged her light-hearted ribbing now that Kaz was no longer a gasping mess.

Kaz rubbed at his eyes. His mind was a fog, every thought spread out in disarray. He could only say the first thing that bubbled to the surface.

“You deserve so much more than this.”

“An admirable deflection, but that’s not it.” Inej slit her eyes at him, reading him like a book. Annoying. This wasn’t something he’d considered when she’d told him to take off the armor. He’d wanted to get laid; he didn’t want a damn mind reader.

That wasn’t exactly true, though, was it? But maybe it was a necessary lie. He was too attached, and this loss would not be one he could survive.

“You’re being a fool, Wraith,” Dirtyhands rasped.

INEJ

“Am I?” Well, well, well. So, this is how it was going to be, was it? Inej knew Dirtyhands when she saw him. She could tussle with this bastard all day. Sometimes she even liked it. “How so?”

Kaz’s pale face was set in a glare; he wanted a fight. And if he hadn’t tried this before, it may have even rattled Inej.

If anyone had seen their first kisses, they might have mistaken Kaz and Inej for an old married couple. The only kind of kiss either of them could handle was merely a brief peck on the cheek or the lips, as chaste as a greeting between relatives. Their bodies wouldn’t even brush. It had to look ridiculous, but Inej told herself it was good practice. Someday, they could have something like a real kiss, she told herself. For now, this was enough.

The last night before Inej was to set sail again, they sat opposite each other on the windowsill of The Slat, propped up against the frame, while Inej coaxed crows with breadcrumbs and made sure Kaz didn’t fall out the window. He’d had a couple drinks too many with Jesper and was more than a little amusing.

“I have a secret,” he slurred. He leaned his head back against the open window frame, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Just one?” Inej quirked an eyebrow. Kaz gave a drunken chortle.

“Good point.” He pointed at her. “Clever, clever Wraith.”

“What’s your secret?” Inej asked, with an amused smirk. Kaz gave a sloppy nod.

“It is terrifying to me that you live on a boat,” he confessed with a slow blink. Inej frowned.

“You bought me the boat,” she said. Kaz kept nodding, wide-eyed.

“I did,” he said. “A whole damn boat. And it looks so good on you, Inej. So good.”

“Thank you.” Inej tried to hide a laugh.

“But I spend every day trying to convince myself that you’re not drowning. It’s – it’s not fun, Inej. It’s the opposite of fun – what’s the word?”

“There are many to choose from,” Inej shrugged. “Is this fear because of…?” She wasn’t sure how to bring up the subject. The night he’d told her about nearly drowning, of using his brother’s body to swim to shore from Reaper’s Barge, had been the first time she’d ever seen tears in his eyes. She wasn’t proud of it, but it had startled her. It had thrown the balance of her world off so harshly that she’d tracked down Pekka Rollins that very night and carved his skin until she felt the scales tip again.

“Probably,” was all Kaz would admit, and he rested one cheek against a gloved fist.

Inej considered this while she threw crumbs to the crows. She cared for him, so very much. And any time she thought of him as that abandoned little boy in the harbor, her insides crumbled.

“You should come out on the water with me,” she told him. “Let me show you it’s not what you remember.”

“Pass,” Kaz announced, a little too loudly.

“We could start small,” Inej persisted. “Take a little skiff on the canals.”

“The canals are disgusting.” Kaz practically looked petulant, like she was forcing vegetables on him. “Do you have any idea how many drunks piss in those canals? I’ve taken a piss in those canals.”

Inej grimaced with a groan, but she wasn’t giving up on this idea now that it had seized her.

“I’m a sea captain, Kaz,” she said. “I’ve got you. You will not fall into the canals unless I decide you’re going to fall into the canals. And I haven’t decided yet; it depends on how nice you are to me.” She gave a prim little tilt of her chin as she shot him a coy glance. He was smiling like a silly fool.

“I want to kiss you,” he declared, and even though she knew he was drunk, her face still burned.

“Maybe you should,” she dared.

And for a moment, he sat still and stiff against the window frame, and she thought he would change the subject. But then, he swung his legs back inside the room and limped to where she sat. He towered over her, leaning against the window frame as he gazed over her face, and Inej watched the darkness in his eyes, holding her breath, praying that this time it could go differently.

Then, slowly, he lifted one gloved hand to her chin, tilting her face up just slightly. She shivered at the brush of leather, missing the warmth of his hands but conceding this for now. And it hardly mattered considering the way he looked at her, his eyes like languid pools of chocolate, melting her.

He cupped her cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing her bottom lip, and she drew in a breath. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a nervous swallow, and she hardly dared to move as he slowly bent down, the tip of his nose brushing hers for a brief moment, before he brought his lips to touch hers.

And Inej wanted to pull him closer, to taste his mouth, to know that he burned for her just as she burned for him, but instead she waited, terrified this time that she could spook him with any sudden movements. And for a moment, it seemed to work.

For a moment, his eyes slid closed. For a moment, he held her there, brushing his lips over hers, dipping in to meet her mouth completely. Thank the Saints, she thought, her eyes closing, giving in. Thank you, thank you.

But only for a moment.

Because a moment later, his whole body went rigid, and he startled the crows away when he wrenched away with a gasp. Inej had to grab the window frame to keep from falling and really destroying the evening. And Kaz staggered backwards, crushing his eyes closed tight with a hand clamped over his mouth. Inej leapt after him before he could tip backwards, as unsteady as he was with drink.

“Don’t,” he growled, pushing her back instead as he swayed and regained his balance. “Stay back.”

And as harsh as it sounded, it was still improvement. It was more than they’d ever had before, and he wasn’t vomiting or fainting, even with a fair amount of kvas in him. The kiss, as small as it was, left Inej dazzled. She stepped back from him, holding her hands out so he knew he had his space.

But Kaz wasn’t as satisfied. Far from it. In fact, he gave a frustrated roar and then turned and put his fist through the wall.

Inej barely had time to give a startled yelp. If he hadn’t have been wearing his gloves, Kaz surely would have torn his hand to shreds. As it was, he was holding it gingerly in the other hand, and Inej couldn’t be sure if he’d broken fingers or not.

“Why do you come back here?” Kaz shouted when he whirled back at her, his teeth bared in fury. Inej clenched her fists.

“We have a deal,” she said, coldly. It was the language Dirtyhands understood.

Kaz scoffed as he tried to move his injured fingers.

“To what end?” he spat, and ground his teeth in pain. “How long will it take you to realize there is nothing here for you to save?”

“If you weren’t interested in being saved, you wouldn’t have struck the deal in the first place,” Inej shot back. If he was trying to push her away to save face, she wasn’t going quietly.

“I have nothing to offer you,” Kaz gritted. “I can’t even--” but he couldn’t look at her.

Inej held out her hands toward him, offering to take his injured fingers in hers. He hesitated, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

“All I have ever asked of you was your honesty and your time,” Inej said. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to try.”

And slowly Kaz turned, shuffling his weight off his bad leg, and put his wounded hand in hers, the leather dusted in plaster. She slowly started to pull back the leather to inspect the damage, and Kaz sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“I’m very drunk,” he complained.

“I know you are.”

“This hurts.”

“Don’t punch walls next time.”

His knuckles were already swollen and bruised, but nothing looked broken. Nothing ice and a good bandage couldn’t fix.

“Mati en sheva yelu,” he slurred in Suli. This action will have no echo. And the sincere, painful look he was giving her when she looked up at him in surprise made her want to kiss him all over again. “You know—you say it,” he tried to wave off her adoration.

“I do. I didn’t know you were listening.”

“I’m always listening, Inej. Inej.” He sighed hard, looking longing at her lips. “It’s going to hurt so much worse than this when this is over.”

Inej looked up at him in surprise.

“Why would you say that?” she frowned.

“You wanted honesty.” Kaz swayed a little on his feet. “I’m giving you honesty. Nothing survives the Barrel. Not even me. Not even you. And now look at me--” He squared his wide shoulders, taking a shuffling step closer, close enough that she could feel his body warmth, smell the tang of wine on his breath. She found herself staring up at the painful depths of his dark eyes, the ache he let her see. “No armor now,” he said, his voice low.

For a moment, Inej’s knees felt weak beneath him, but it was that smell of the red wine that brought her back.

“You’re drunk,” she reminded him. He gave a petulant frown, and maybe that was the reason she found the courage to say the rest. “And if you’re trying to blame me for some unforeseen pain that may or may not even happen, in some misguided attempt to protect yourself from actually feeling something, well, then you’re far crueler than I took you for. And I will not tolerate your cruelty, Kaz Brekker.”

And so she knew this strategy Kaz Brekker’s demons employed. And she stared him down on the bathroom floor, daring him to go on.

“How so?” she said again.

KAZ

Jordie would have been twenty-five. Jordie never got to dream, to build a name for himself, to live comfortably. Jordie never got to have a girl, to know what it was like to be adored, to wake up next to the same face you dreamt of.

Because of the firepox.

Why did I live? Why did I live?

Kaz was pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Jordie was there, bloated, covered in sores, his vacant eyes glassy.

“How so?”

“The ship was your ticket out,” he rasped, finally, looking up at her. “I gave you the ship. I gave you your family. You were supposed to get far away from here before this happened again. You were supposed to leave.”

“I don’t believe you.” Inej shook her head.

“What do you want from me?” his voice strained, savagely. “Is it not enough to know that I love you and want you to live? You have to keep coming around here, endangering yourself and my crew--”

“Your crew?” Inej raised an angry, skeptical eyebrow.

“Look at me.” Somewhere under the fog of paranoia and haunted memory, Kaz knew he was nearing hysterics. “You are my weakness, a liability--”

But at that, Inej shot to her feet, and the very real threat of actually losing her was enough to shut even Dirtyhands up. She stared down at him, a glare laced with ice and pain and empathy all at once.

“I know you are hurting,” she said, “and I know this isn’t the reason. I know how impossible it can feel to find the source when the pain is all-encompassing. But that gives you no right speak to me this way. We have fought too long and come too far for this.”

The wash of guilt that followed crushed his chest, and Kaz sunk into the heels of his palms once again. She asked only for honesty, came a reminder from somewhere in his frenetic thoughts. Find the source, find the source. She was turning to leave the bathroom, and the dread of not having her voice, pulling him out of the dark, was far worse than any other horror his imagination could conjure up.

“Inej,” he said in a harsh scratch. His throat felt thick. She turned at the broken bathroom door, leaning her head against the frame. Waiting. Expecting.

He had to try.

“I can’t,” he started, and there it was. The source. His mind been twisting it all around in the fog, fumbling with it like a lock in the dark, when it was simple, really. “I can’t do this again,” he said at last, his voice breaking.

“Do what again,” said Inej, though she seemed to understand. She was going to make him say it.

He swallowed hard, his throat constricting.

“I can’t,” he pushed again, “I can’t lose everything to this again. I can’t do it.”

“You are not going to lose everything, Kaz,” Inej said, firmly, and she began to cross the tile back to him again.

“I can’t lose you to this.” He dared to look at her as she sat next to him, their backs against the wall. “Any of you. Jesper. Wylan. I can’t. I have so much more to lose this time.”

“You are not going to lose us.” Inej remained adamant, but Kaz gave a bitter, crooked smile even as he felt hot tears like pinpricks in his eyes. Jordie had made similar promises once. Jordie would have liked Inej.

“You can’t promise that.” His rasp was becoming a whisper. “You can’t promise any of that.”

And to her credit, Inej didn’t try to fight. It was firepox. It wasn’t a rival gang. There was no strategy. There was only the gamble. Outlast. Outlive. That’s all you could do.

Inej set her hand on his knee. He knew she would have liked to have done more, but he was grateful she didn’t try. This was enough.

“Then for tonight,” she said, “we’ll be scared. And we’ll be sad. And then tomorrow, we’ll pick up the pistols and the knives again. We’ll fight again another day.”

We. He didn’t deserve to be a We, but he feared the loss far more. And with a deep breath to summon his courage, he put his hand over hers. He had to wait a moment to allow the shudder to pass through him, but then he gave her fingers a squeeze in agreement. When he looked over at her, her big, brown eyes were glassy with tears.

“Kaz,” she said, softly, “tell me about Jordie.”

Kaz rested his head against the bathroom wall. There was so much to say about Jordie. He could have told her about the games he made up or the jokes he liked to tell or the useless toys he bought Kaz, just to see his little brother grin. He could have told her about his dangerous optimism or his blind ambition or his stupid hubris. He wanted to tell her how riding on Jordie’s shoulders had made him feel like an invincible giant, and what good were gods or Saints or Grisha if they couldn’t even protect a boy as deserving of life as Jordie?

Instead, Kaz Rietveld broke down and wept.

INEJ

It was a long night, the first of many long nights. Inej wasn’t sure when Kaz finally fell asleep, but she awoke first and shuffled out of the attic in Kaz’s nightshirt, down to the empty kitchen of The Slat to percolate a kettle of strong black coffee. When she brought up cups, she found him sitting on the edge of the bed, bleary-eyed and disheveled. He couldn’t have slept more than two or three hours.

She handed him a cup of coffee without a word and noticed he avoided touching her fingers when he took the mug. She understood all too well how the tide of war against the demons of memory could shift dramatically with so little warning, and she was ready to tell him so when he let out a small, defeated sigh and leaned to rest his head against her stomach.

Had anyone ever seen the Bastard of the Barrel so broken? No one would ever know, the Wraith determined. She ran her fingers through the thick, soft hair at the top of his head, avoiding his scalp, and held him there against her. He gave no protest.

“I thought I had defeated this,” he said, after a long silence.

“The past can be tricky like that,” Inej replied. The dawn was golden over the tile rooftops of Ketterdam. “It has teeth, and sometimes it demands attention.”

“Suli proverb?”

“No.” Inej sighed. “Just the story of my life.”

Kaz was silent a moment as they both sat with their demons at the door. He lifted a hand like he wanted to hold her closer, but ended up tugging absentmindedly on the rolled-up sleeve of her nightshirt instead.

“You were ready.” The self-loathing in Kaz’s voice was palpable and twisted in Inej’s gut. “Yesterday, you wanted me to--”

“Kaz.” Inej stopped him and gave the back of his head a little tug so he’d look up at her. “Are you forgetting the terms of our deal? I want you. Mind, body, and soul. Those were your exact words. This,” she brushed back his sleep-disheveled hair with tender fingers and he closed his eyes, “this is all part of the deal. Your past, your memories, your fears – they are all a part of the man I love. I wouldn’t have you without them.”

Kaz was still beneath her fingers in his hair, but after a moment, his chest rose and fell with a sigh and he gave a little nod.

With the streets outside silent and abandoned, they spent the rest of the day in bed, sometimes sleeping, sometimes talking, always a safe distance from each other. When night fell, however, Inej woke up briefly to find Kaz’s bare hand fitted to her the slope of her waist as he slept, curled on his side. She smiled to herself in the dark.

KAZ

The plague bells continued to toll every day, a regular reminder of the reaper that spread like wildfire through the streets. The first three days were near-constant torment. Inej did her best to try to distract him with card games and books. She even got desperate and showed him knife tricks that made even him feel uneasy that she was going to hurt herself.

“Seriously, that’s enough,” he finally told her at one point. “I can’t go out and bring back a Tailor for you if you lose a finger today.”

“I am not going to lose a finger.” But she stopped anyway. He was grateful. Every moment of the day, his heart was pounding and his mind was racing while he watched for telltale signs. She’d grow tired first, then lose her appetite when the fever began to rise, and then would come the sores that would erupt all across her perfect body. It would rot her beautiful face. Sometimes, lying in bed, eyes closed, was all he could manage to do to keep himself from losing it completely.

But as the end of the first week drew near, they were both still healthy, and Kaz found he could go an hour without imagining her death. Each day grew a little more normal, and each day brought a little more freedom. He could show her card tricks and live entirely in the moment her face lit up in delighted wonder, no fear of the future. Each night, Inej would flit across the rooftops of Ketterdam to the Van Eck mansion, returning to The Slat with news that Jesper and Wylan were well and bored and sent their regards, and Kaz’s unease settled a bit more. By the second week, he could lie across from Inej at night, and his mind would fill with tender memories instead of horrors. Instead of her dying face, he thought of the sun shimmering on her golden brown skin, the harbor winds in her black hair, the rose petal-softness of her lips against his cheek.

How she convinced him to let her paddle him through the canals of Ketterdam, he’ll never know. Maybe it was partially his own fault. He was growing desperate to make progress, to hold her how he wanted to hold her, and it was becoming apparent to him that he had to confront what the waters brought up in him.

She’d stashed away her own money and bought herself a skiff, the first boat she’d purchased on her own, and her eyes dazzled when she spoke of it, and Kaz knew he wanted to see her captain it. He’d walked the decks of The Wraith with her, his heart soaring with pride as he watched her in her element. Kaz loved to see Inej happy. He loved nothing more.

But all of that couldn’t prevent him from sitting in the exact center of the skiff with his arms crossed in defense – against what? – and his body so rigid, the first harsh jostle of the skiff could snap him in two.

“You hate this,” Inej observed. She’d stopped rowing and came to sit next to him, facing the opposite direction. The canal waters were still as the skiff drifted forward. They were in a quiet part of town where the narrow streets were largely ignored. A shopkeeper swept the cobblestones in front of their shop; an old man smoked a pipe on the steps of a pub.

“I never said that,” but Kaz didn’t look at her.

“You didn’t have to.” Inej raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take us home.”

“No--”

“I’m glad you tried. That means a lot--”

“Inej.” He touched her wrist, his hands bare, and looked up at her face as she was about to move back to steer the boat. Her skin shone in the sunlight as the breeze swept strands of her hair across her face. Her eyes in the sunshine were like caramels. Kaz didn’t want to go back. That was the last thing he wanted.

“I need new memories of the water,” he rasped. “That’s all.”

“Better memories,” Inej agreed, and she turned her hand, fitting her fingers through his. He closed his eyes while he took in the warmth of her palm against his, alive and perfect.

And then it happened. His eyes still closed, he felt the soft brush of her lips against his cheek. His heart stuttered and warmed. It hadn’t felt revolting at all. It had surprised him, and he’d liked it. He’d actually liked it. He opened his eyes to her sweet smile, and he wanted more.

This was what he would always consider their first real kiss. He turned his body and wrapped one hand at her waist, holding her close. She didn’t flinch, didn’t shrink back. No, she leaned in. She wanted. He tilted his head to meet the slant of her lips and lost himself in her sweetness, with the sun bright overhead and the lazy lapping of canal water against the sides of the skiff.

INEJ

“They’re lifting some quarantine measures,” Kaz told her over coffee one morning. Inej looked up at him, eager, as he scanned the headlines of the Ketterdam Ledger. The days had become routine in the microcosm of their world, and she desperately needed to tend to The Wraith.

“The harbors?” she asked.

“They’re not opening the harbors yet,” Kaz shook his head, then shot a glance at her, catching her frustration. “Not that that should stop us,” he said, folding up the paper.

A smile began to creep along Inej’s lips.

“Are you sure?” she questioned. In the first days of the quarantine, Kaz didn’t even want to leave the room. He’d laid rest to many demons since then, but his exhaustion was still fresh in her mind.

But the smile he gave back to her was a Dirtyhands smirk, and her stomach fluttered pleasantly.

“Figure out the quarantine guard shift change at the harbor,” he told her. “We’ll go tonight.”

The Wraith threw back the last of her coffee and made a mad dash for the rooftops, like a bat out of hell.

That night, they dressed the part. It was a little silly, Inej realized, strapping on her knives over her leggings, when this wasn’t anything like a real job. But a forbidden midnight dash into the cordoned harbor was far more entertaining than the same old card games, and Inej was mad for some excitement. As she watched Kaz suit up out of the corner of her eye, she suspected he felt much the same way. They were both ready for some semblance of normality.

They tied makeshift masks over their faces before slipping into the abandoned shadows of Ketterdam’s alleys. Kaz’s limp was more pronounced after weeks of being holed up in The Slat, and while Inej didn’t point it out, she still kept to the darkness so he didn’t have to rush. After a few blocks, his muscles loosened, and their pace quickened, and when they neared the harbor, Inej stopped them, her back against the brick wall of a building, and held out a hand for Kaz’s pocket watch. The chain clinked as he handed it to her, and she checked the time.

She pulled the mask down to her neck as she handed the watch back.

“We’re early,” she whispered up at him. “Few minutes still.”

Kaz nodded beneath his mask as he pocketed the watch. Suddenly, Inej’s heart thudded as she looked him over. It had been weeks since he’d worn one of his tailored black suits, and the thrill of seeing him looking like himselfagain overtook her.

When her eyes traveled up to his face, she saw that he’d noticed her staring, and he lifted his dark eyebrows.

“See something you like?” he asked, his rasping voice muffled behind mask. Inej pressed back a smirk.

“Cheeky bastard,” she shot back.

“You’re the one who likes cheeky bastards,” said Kaz, and took two shuffling steps closer, leaning on his crow’s head cane, so close their bodies were nearly touching.

“Just this one,” Inej replied, and gave a little tug on his mask to reveal his crooked half smile.

Inej drew in a breath as Kaz took one more step and she felt the brace of his body against her. She’d never say it, but she had ached for him all these weeks – so close to her, and yet so out of reach. To her delight, he leaned his cane against the wall and wrapped both gloved hands around her waist. She held on to his shoulders as he pressed against her, taking her lips, softly at first, and then with insistence.

Thank the Saints, Inej thought, not for the first time, and let herself melt into him.

She ran her hands up his shoulders and around his neck, crossing her wrists behind his head, and let him press her back against the wall. It was as if he was making up for lost time, and his touch drove her mad, in the best way possible. He parted her lips with his tongue, and a soft moan escaped her throat as his fingers twisted in the fabric of her vest.

“Gods, I’ve missed this,” Kaz rasped when they broke apart finally, lungs aching. His chest was heaving, breathless, as Inej dragged her fingers under the lapels of his jacket, over the hard muscle beneath, pulling him closer.

And she gasped as he dipped his head and pressed his lips to the soft bit of skin just below her ear, and she was ready to forget the world entirely when his teeth grazed her neck, his hands roaming her hips, except at the last minute, she remembered the time. While he cupped her ass, she slipped her fingers into his waistcoat pocket.

“Now,” she said, pulling back, suddenly. “We have to go now.”

“Did you just pick my pocket?” Kaz realized, a little dazed, as Inej replaced his pocket watch. But she was already soundlessly running for the docks.

The Wraith waited at Fifth Harbor, looking no worse for wear, as they scaled its sides in the dark and leapt aboard. Inej walked its decks in the moonlight, shining full beyond the tall masts. She knew that weeks in the water with no maintenance, the list of chores that needed to be taken care of had grown long. For one thing, the decks were covered in bird shit. There were sails that needed mending, hulls that needed shucked of their barnacles, cannons that needed cleaning. She at least needed to take stock of the work ahead, so she could quickly divvy up the load among her crew when the quarantine was lifted.

She could sense Kaz’s eyes on her, almost hungry since their exchange in the alley. And now that they had evaded the quarantine guards, she found she liked it. She gave him a provocative glance the next time she noticed his predatory gaze.

“You picked my pocket,” he repeated, slitting his eyes. His dark eyes in the silver moonlight made her heart skip. She turned to face him at the base of the mizzenmast.

“And whatever will you do about it, Brekker,” she challenged.

He tapped his cane against the wood of the deck three times.

“I have some ideas,” he rasped, a quirk of a smile on his lips, and Saints she wanted him to press up against her again.

It was as if he read her mind. He let his cane drop with a clatter as he took her in his arms, pressing her back against the wood of the mizzenmast, and she lifted onto her toes to hungrily take his lips with hers.

He wasn’t slow and methodical now. He was like a drowning man gasping his first breath of air. He was kissing her as much as he could, her lips, her cheeks, her throat, his hands digging into the back of her shirt, nearly lifting her off her toes. She brought her hands to either side of his face to hold him still, to kiss him deeper, to breathe in his scent like she hadn’t in weeks. Her Kaz. He wasn’t gone. He could fight his way out of any hole, no matter how black. And how she loved him for it.

One of his hands slid from her back, raking up her rib cage to cup her breast, and she gasped into his mouth as he kneaded it with his long fingers. There was warmth pooling between her legs, desire like a steady tide rising in her veins. She pressed her hips against his and found he was already hard. Her cheeks warmed. More, she needed more.

“I want you,” she gasped. She’d let go of his face, running her hands over his shoulders, as he left a train of kisses down her neck.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he groaned. And it was all the permission she needed: she started pulling at the buttons of his waistcoat, his white shirt, tearing some, pushing her fingers through to his hot skin and muscles underneath.

He wasn’t running. He tore at her shirt, his lithe fingers dancing through buttonholes as her blouse fell open to him, and he bent his head, pulling at the center of her back, to bring his mouth to her cleavage.

“Take those damn gloves off,” she demanded, and, as he did, she threw off her shirt and the useless mask from her neck and undid the bindings that held in her breasts. Kaz’s shirt was still hanging open, his hair he’d finally worked hard to put in place now falling in his eyes, as he stepped back to her, running his bare hands up her back, over her neck, to caress her breast.

She nipped at his earlobe, raking her hands down his torso, to that fine line of hair at his beltline. And as he kissed her again and again, she undid the black leather belt. He drew back with in a sharp breath as she pushed past his wiry curls and wrapped her fingers around his hard length.

“Is this what you want?” he rasped, as she began to stroke him. He released a low breath and leaned a little harder against the mast at her back.

“I want everything,” she told him in a husky voice, and he looked at her with those half-starved black eyes, lips slightly parted, before slipping his own careful fingers into her leggings.

Her head fell back against the mast and she tightened her grip on his cock as she felt his clever lockpick fingers slid over her clit. Her breasts heaved with a deep sigh, and Kaz let out a stuttering breath when she did, his eyelids fluttering.

“Careful,” he groaned with a gasp. “I don’t know if I can – shit, Inej, really, you could end this too soon.”

“I want you to feel what you make me feel,” she breathed, slowing her strokes.

“But I don’t want this to end,” Kaz gritted out, and looped his spare hand around her wrist, pulling her hand back. And just as she was about to protest, he slid both hands beneath her leggings at her waist. He wanted her bare again, she realized, and she was desperate for release.

She helped him slid her leggings to the deck, and before she could wonder what he was going to do next, he knelt before her, one hand on either thigh. With his careful eyes watching her always, he took one of her legs over his shoulder, bringing his soft lips to kiss her folds.

His breath was hot against her, and Inej raised her arms over her head to grab the mast behind her to keep her knees from crumbling under her.

“Where did you learn this?” she gasped, her heart racing. She shivered as he ran a hand over her core and her navel, stroking her tense muscles.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Kaz mumbled against her cunt, and the harsh rasp of his voice sent a wave of pleasure through her.

“I have to know--” Inej could hardly finish her sentence as he stroked his tongue slowly up the strip of her pussy. She would know, but it certainly didn’t matter now. Her legs were giving out under her, and he wrapped his strong arms under her thighs as she held onto the mast, his hair, anything to ground her.

“Don’t stop,” she begged, and he certainly seemed to have no intention to. He used one thumb to caress her clit as he sucked and stroked her folds, and her whole body was alight at his touch. The tension was building low in her abdomen, and she couldn’t hardly believe this was happening right here on her own ship. She gazed down at her Kaz, his perceptive eyes trained on her, the eyes that saw her and saved her and endlessly loved her, and she brushed his hair back as she felt the wave of orgasm nearing.

The trapped girl she’d been in the Menagerie could never have dreamed this could be her life. The trapped girl in the Menagerie might have slept easier knowing this day was coming.

“Kaz,” she breathed out his name in a soft moan as she came, wave after wave of sensation rolling through her core. “Thank you,” she was whispering, again and again. “Thank you.”

She was catching her breath as he straightened himself to his feet, kissing her softly while she came down from her high. His belt buckle was still undone, and she ran her fingers around the bare skin at his waist.

“How did you learn how to do that?” she asked him as she looked up at him, dreamily. He just shook his head with that sneaking, crooked smile. Well, fine. She could get him to talk.

She looped her hands through his belt and turned him so that his back now pressed against the mast, and then dropped to her knees.

“Fuck,” she heard Kaz whisper, and she quickly undid his trousers, dropping them to his ankles.

She’d seen him naked many times before, but this was the first time she’d decided to do something about it. His length stiffened just from her proximity, and when she glanced up at him, he looked like he was hardly daring to breathe.

She slowly brought the tip to her lips. Kaz drew in a breath.

“Tell me where you learned how to do that thing with your mouth,” she whispered with a smirk.

“Oh, that’s how this is going to be?” Kaz looked confident, but she saw how he already gripped the mast behind him. She dragged her tongue up his length, and he cursed again.

“You should tell me.”

“Holy fuck, Inej.”

This was going to be fun. Inej wrapped her lips around him, and he let out a low sound she’d never heard from him before. She worked her mouth up and down his length, relishing the pleasure she brought him, how she could turn this dangerous man into a gasping mess.

His thighs were already tensing as he struggled to hold himself upright. He’d been right; this wasn’t going to last long. He’d leaned his head back against the mast, chest heaving, and once he looked like he was going to cry out something, but instead he came with a grunt and a shudder, his fingers curling in her hair. She swallowed the heat that filled her throat, watching him quake and moan as she did, and only then did she release him.

“Nina told me.” Kaz was gasping, eyelashes fluttering as Inej stood up. “I wrote Nina for advice, and she told me about the thing I could do with my mouth. Holy shit, Inej.”

“You wrote Nina?” Inej wasn’t sure if she should be horrified or laugh. “I wrote Nina.”

Kaz opened his eyes at last, looking unconcerned.

“Well, I wasn’t about to ask Jesper for advice. And Wylan’s never even seen a vagina.”

“We will never hear the end of this.”

“She’ll raise us from the dead just to talk about it again.”

Inej thought for a moment before concluding: “Worth it.”

And because they were bored of The Slat, they curled up for the night in Inej’s captain’s quarters, the full moon filling the porthole window and lighting up the night. Sometime in the night, Inej awoke, caught a glimpse of the sea from the window, and poked Kaz in the side until he woke up.

KAZ

“What is it?” he whispered.

“The sea,” she told him.

He wanted to whine. He rarely slept soundly, and had she really just woke him up to look at the damn sea?

Of course she had.

She brought him above deck and shimmied down the ropes to The Wraith’s rowboat, gesturing for him to follow. Kaz felt like he was moving through a dream, but even in dreams, he would follow his girl to the end of the world.

She took the oars of the boat and told him to lie down in the center of the little craft. Kaz gave a relinquished sigh and did as he was told, letting her row them out into the dark harbor, slipping past guards’ watch lanterns, and out into the still waters of the open sea.

He’d long past given up on worrying about Inej’s decisions. If there was a reason she wanted them out in open waters in the middle of the night, it had to be a good one. He closed his eyes and listened to the lapping of the water, willing back old memories and thinking of Inej. His sea captain. He wouldn’t fall to the waters as long as she had him.

Eventually, she stopped rowing, dropped an anchor, and came to lie beside him in the center of the boat.

“It seems like I’m supposed to understand what’s happening,” Kaz said, their shoulders next to each other.

“I wanted you to have a new memory,” Inej said. “Just be still and look around.”

And Kaz raised himself up onto his elbows to look at the sea around him. It was at that moment he understood her love of the sea.

The black sky wrapped around them as far as the eye could reach, glittering with countless stars from horizon to horizon. The surface of the water stretched out all around, a perfect mirror of the sparkling lights in the heavens. Kaz drew in a breath in wonder, suddenly without words. If there was ever magic in the world, this was it.

He looked down at Inej, her hands under her head, as she gazed up at the sky, the picture of contentment.

“Maybe now you’ll think of this, too, when you remember the firepox,” she said, as she gazed softly up at him.

He would. Oh, he would.

He bent over, cupping her cheek, and kissed her fully. His girl. His Inej. His magic. His whole heart. She turned to him on her side, wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her breasts against his chest, unbound beneath her thin shirt. Desire coursed through him as he felt the puckered drag of her nipples across his body. His fingers slid through her loose hair, deepening the kiss, and blood rushed to his cock for the second time that night. What surprised him more was her hand dipping down, pressing against it through his trousers, as if she could coax it out.

“Again?” he wondered aloud, and kicked himself for it immediately. But Inej smiled against his lips and touched her nose to his.

“Better memories,” she whispered.

She slipped off her leggings while giving him a pointed glance at his tented trousers. It took a moment to understand her meaning. She wanted him to take them off.

He slid out of his trousers and then the rest of his clothes as Inej did the same, the cool night air brushing against her nipples and hardening them. He wanted to lose himself in them again, kiss them and taste them and –

Just as he was imagining the many things he was about to do to her breasts, Inej pushed him down again onto his back at the center of the rowboat. Slowly, she crawled on top of him, and his cock throbbed, begging, pleading.

This had to be a dream. Surely this was a dream. He only ever had dreams this good.

But the sigh she let out when their bodies connected was very real. And her tight heat sliding over his cock had never felt so good in his sleep. She guided herself down slowly, her hands on his torso, and Kaz released a shaky moan.

He’d convinced himself for years that this was impossible. The angry monster he’d been had locked every fantasy of this away. The broken boy he’d been was sure he’d never deserve this.

Here he was anyway.

Inej rocked over his length above him, taking her time, leaving slow, languid kisses on his mouth. He fitted his hand to the curve of her waist, her long hair brushing over his fingers. The desperation he’d felt on the decks of the ship had passed, and now he could float among the stars, his mind blank, giving his body wholly to the girl who loved him.

Every grim eventuality Kaz had conjured in his mind about the future seemed to dissipate there beneath the stars. He could be wrong. They would have time. They could live like this for years. There was nothing in their way. He had time. He had time.

When Inej quickened her pace, she was as slippery and wet as a minnow, and soon Kaz couldn't help writhing beneath her, arching, exulting, her name on his lips, his heart in her hands. He loved her; he’d love her til the end of time, and he said so, and he was nothing if not true to his word. And when he crumbled beneath her, he was unaware of anything but her her her, and when the wave subsided, there were stars all around her.

She kissed him again and again before lying beside him and mussing up his disheveled hair, grinning up at him with eyes that glittered in starlight.

“That was unexpected,” he panted, and looked over at her. “You’re not worried about – you know--” He gestured at her womb, fumbling for words.

“Nina told me how to prevent it, don’t worry.” Inej was breathing hard, too.

“We have got to stop talking about Nina when we’re naked. It’s getting weird.”

“Agreed.”

And though they knew they’d have to return to the ship before first light, Kaz tucked her close to his body anyway, tracing her curves with his fingertips, watching the stars above them. As he did, he thought of the future once more, only this time, he didn’t see death.

He saw an expanse as limitless as the infinite, starry horizon, as open to him as the sea.

#six of crows #soc #crooked kingdom #kanej #kanej fanfic #smut #kanej smut #fanfic #fanfiction #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kaz x inej #kaz brekker x inej ghafa

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ask-them-bois · 4 years ago

Text

Drowning in Sorrow

SW.pt.1 SW.pt.2 SW.pt.3

A bonus story on Fayroe’s fate!

Tw: Mentions of past abuse and past torture, mild blood, scars

TLDR: Makeno and Fayroe reunite.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Makeno was jolted out of sleep by the sound of someone banging on the front door. He sat up slowly, partially untangling himself from his snoozing matesprit. He blinked several times, his thinkpan still sluggish from the rude awakening. A second round of frantic knocking had him getting up and getting pants on.

A third round started as he made his way downstairs. “Jegus, hold on, I’m coming!” He called, huffy, as he unlocked the locks and wrenched the door open. “Unless someone’s dying, I really don’t wanna be bothered on my night off, I only-”

Makeno’s voice went dead in his throat as he came face to face with the sight of Fayroe, covered in blood, sweat, and tears, standing on his doorstep.

What looked like deep bite marks and lacerations were scored all over the fuchsia’s chest, shoulders, and one was dangerously close to his throat, blood bubbling from his mouth and nose.

“M- Makey… I- I need your help-” Fayroe wheezed out, clutching at the larger wound, before Makeno slammed the door in their face.

The violetblood pressed himself up against the door, his blood-pumper hammering against his ribs. No- no no no no no no- this was not happening, this was NOT happening-!

“Ken-ken? Wha’s goin’ on?” Corden’s sleep-slurred voice startled Makeno out of his panic. He looked up, fins flaring, as Corden approached him from the stairs, blinking blearily.

“I- I- I-” Makeno tried, but his thinkpan was suddenly racing too fast for thoughts. He lurched away from the door and fled to the back of the hive as panic overtook him.

Corden jumped out of his way, bewildered. “Uh… okay.” Puzzled, he went to see for himself who was at the door.

Opening it, Corden found Fayroe, now collapsed on the porch and slumped against the wall. That certainly woke the robot up. He rubbed his eyes, just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “Holy fuck.” He said at last, “Yeah, no, Ken-ken was in the right to flip like that. When he’s done it’s my turn.”

So saying, he turned away and disappeared back into the hive, before returning to the porch with a handheld medicalizer and a roll of gauze. He knelt down with a sigh, shaking his head.

Grumbling under their breath, Corden set about repairing the wounds and wrapping them. “How fucking dare you show up here, Fay. I mean, really, it’s just rude! Be glad Ken-ken tells me I’ve gotta be nice to others, otherwise I would have gone and just grabbed my bat. And not my lusus; I mean the one with barbed wire on it. What the fuck happened to you?” He muttered crossly, although he wasn’t expecting an answer.

Just as he was finishing up, Fayroe stirred. He let out a gurgling whimper, wincing as he was jostled slightly, before he managed to peel his eyes open. He squinted up at Corden, dazed. “… Wh… I know you…”

“You sure fucking do.” Corden hissed, making the fuchsia flinch.

“I… I need Makey’s help-”

“You need a lot of help, Fayroe, of several varieties, but you’re not getting Ken-ken.”

“You know Makey?” They asked, sounding faintly surprised.

“He’s my morail, dipshit.” Corden rolled his eyes.

Fayroe scowled. “How dare you-” They began, but their voice was still weak.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Fallen.” Corden snapped, cutting them off, as he got to his feet. “Stay.” He ordered, marching back inside. Fayroe didn’t have the strength to argue or protest.

Corden headed to the back of the hive. He knew exactly where Makeno had gone, and a muffled yell and thump confirmed it; the seadweller was in his studio. Changing course, they walked over to the block Makeno used to record music, and carefully opened the door.

“GOD FUCKING DAMNIT!!” The seadweller bellowed at full volume. Corden jumped back as the piano bench slammed into the wall beside the door, shattering into several pieces.

The studio was in shambles; recording equipment was busted apart and thrown everywhere, screens were shattered, notebooks torn to shreds and scattered. There were holes in the cushioned walls, where Makeno had punched straight through the padding. The only undamaged part of the block was the piano, which had been shoved against the wall.

Speak of the devil, Makeno stood in the middle of the room, facing away from the door, his shoulders heaving as he fought for breath and claws curled into fists at his sides. His fins were flared in a display of fury, his gills flapping weakly as they tried to suck in air.

Having destroyed the last thing he could throw, Makeno suddenly fell to his knees.

Snarling, Makeno punched the carpet, before scoring his claws across his chest; Corden didn’t need to see it to know he was clawing at the bubble tattoo. A sob ripped out of the seadweller’s throat, and he fell onto his hands, strangled hiccups in his throat.

“… Makeno?”

The seadweller whirled around on the gold, teeth bared. He froze as he recognized his morail, several emotions flickering past his face- anger, surprise, recognition, relief, and then… grief. Violet tears filled the seadweller’s eyes, but he bared his razor teeth again. “Get them out!” He snapped.

“He’s not even in the hive.” Corden said calmly, stepping into the block and shutting the door behind them.

“Then get him away!”

“He’s too hurt to move.”

“I don’t give a shit! Fucking kill them and drag their corpse over the cliff!” Makeno shouted. Corden said nothing, unflinchingly staring at his raging morail; old instincts had shut him down the moment he saw an angry highblood. Makeno’s breathing hitched as he recognized the empty look in the goldblood’s eyes.

All the fight suddenly went out of his body, and the seadweller hung his head. “… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I… please, Cordy, just get them-”

“As soon as I can move him, he’s gone.” Corden promised.

Makeno let out a whine, before rocking backwards to sit on his rump. He drew his knees up to his chest, pressing his forehead against them. After a moment, he let out a bitter laugh. “This fucking sucks. God damn it, I thought- I thought I was over this- I’m- I’m sorry, Cordy, I’m supposed to be the grown up here, the responsible one, and I’m having a tantrum like I’m six sweeps old because of my fucking ex, and I-”

“No one said you had to be the responsible one, Ken-ken.”

Makeno snorted. “I’ve got two jobs, a husband, a hive, and I take care of you. How could I not be the responsible one?”

Corden was silent for a moment. “Being responsible doesn’t mean shutting yourself down, fish-brain.” He said at last. He moved over to the seadweller and knelt down, putting a hand on his knee. “Tell you what. This time, I’ll be the mature one. You go yell and rage all you need to, okay? And then we can go throw rocks into the ocean like you did the other night.”

Makeno laughed, startling himself. “You saw that, did you?”

“Yeah. Was that about… him, or about-?”

“It was about some bucket-fuck at work.”

“Ah.” Silence fell for a moment. “So… do you wanna talk to them?”

“No.”

“Do you need to?”

“… Probably.”

“M’kay. Then, as the currently appointed Responsible One- trademarked- I say we’re going to go rage and yell at the half-dead fish on the porch.”

“… You’ll come with me?”

“Are you kidding? I’m not missing this.”

Less than a minute later, Makeno was stood before Fayroe, trying to think of what to say.

The fuchsia hadn’t moved, leaning against the wall as one hand clutched their now blood-soaked shirt. He was more lucid now that he wasn’t actively bleeding out, and he stared up at the violetblood in awe.

Corden stood just behind Makeno’s shoulder, holding his hand.

The tension was thick enough to drown in, the night silent around them.

“… Makeno, I-” Fayroe finally began.

“Shut. The fuck. Up.” Makeno spat between clenched teeth. Fayroe’s fin-fronds began to flare with indignation, but Makeno instantly displayed his own. They both held the display for a moment, but Fayroe backed down first, his fins drooping as he looked away.

“... I missed you, Makey. I really missed you. Fuck, I’ve got so much to tell you… You know, I still lo-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Fayroe.” Makeno said sharply. He was tense again, squeezing Corden’s fingers like a vice; the goldblood was glad he’d given Makeno his robotic hand, or it’d hurt like a bitch. “I don’t give a flying fuck what you think, how you feel about me, or what the fuck has happened to you. I thought I made it crystal fucking clear that I hate you, platonically.”

Fayroe winced, reaching up to touch the scar that ran across their lip. “Ma- ”

“No! No! You don’t get to talk, Fayroe! You said plenty when we were together, and never let me get a word in edgewise! I was your good little boyfriend, who kept his mouth shut and let you do as you pleased! Now it’s my turn.” Makeno snapped forcefully, before hissing the last words between his teeth.

He took several deep, quick breaths, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “You’re a vile, pathetic coward, Fayroe Fallen. You were cruel to me, you took advantage of me and my loneliness- and now you have the unmitigated gall to come crawling to my hive like we parted ways as friends?

You manipulated me, abused me, and took all of your emotions out on me. You never left me alone, never let me be my own person, and thought it was FUNNY when I was upset. You paraded yourself around like you’d already been crowned Emperor, bragging from here to East Alternia about how great you are, how powerful you are- then turn around and demand I validate your claims in the respiteblock!”

“I never-!” Fayroe began hotly.

“Shut your fucking mouth, I’m not done!” Makeno snarled, “I feel like ripping my ocular orbs out at the sight of you, you know that? I feel like I’m going to vomit right here and now, from hearing your voice. You liked it when I was violent, didn’t you? I’m feeling really ready to be violent right now.”

So saying, he released Corden’s hand and stepped forward. He suddenly stomped, hard- with a bare foot- on Fayroe’s thigh, and grabbed a fistful of snowy locks, forcing the fuchsia to look up at him. He bent down until their noses were nearly touching, Fayroe’s eyes blown wide.

“If you EVER come near me or my family again I’ll fucking rip your head off. I am so over you, I’ve jumped clear over both of the fucking moons. I’ve got a husband and morail who love me now, Fayroe. There’s no fucking room for you, except at the bottom of the fucking ocean.” He hissed, his voice low and dangerous like Corden had never heard before. For a moment, he could see the raging, violetblooded wriggler Makeno often lamented being.

Fayroe had begun to tremble, their eyes brimming with tears. “But- you’re the only one I have!” They croaked, swallowing hard.

Makeno snorted, his eyes burning. “No, Fay, you don’t even have me. You have no one, and as far as I care, it’s what you deserve.”

“Makeno, please-”

“Whatever sob story you’re about to spew like a broken sewer pipe, I don’t want to hear it. Everything you say is just a fucking lie, steeped in fermented shit water.” The violet snarled.

The violetblood flinched back as Fayroe suddenly reached up and seized his arm, claws digging into his bicep. “Makeno, he’s going to kill me!” The fuchsia shouted, finally getting out the words he’d been trying to say.

Makeno froze, as, at long last, he recognized the look in Fayroe’s eyes:

Fear.

“… Who’s going to kill you?” He asked against his better judgement.

“Godric, who else?! He- I- I failed him, Makeno, and now-”

“What do you mean, you failed him?” Makeno pulled away, wrenching Fayroe’s hand off of him, “Last time I saw you, you were quite fucking happy to be your ancestor’s successor.”

Fayroe shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment. “A lot has changed since I saw you, Makey.”

Wincing as it pulled on the freshly closed wounds, they managed to get their jacket off. Hidden under the leather sleeves, some of the wounds still quite fresh, were hundreds of scars, all spelling out the same word, over and over: “Obey.”

“What did he- …” Makeno looked away, deciding he didn’t want to know. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes for a long moment. “… Your life is in danger? Real, actual, danger?”

“Y- yes?”

Makeno rolled his neck to make it crack. “Ohh… I wish Forsaken’s bullet had killed me. Fuck.” He muttered, rubbing his face and opening his eyes again. “Why did you come to me? Why not go to the Scorpions?”

Fayroe laughed hollowly. “The Empire’s Scorpions are done for, Makey. I don’t doubt Godric will have all of them hunted down and killed.” He shook his head. “You’re- You’re the only troll I could think of who might help me. Godric won’t think to send anyone after you, since the two of us broke up. You were the only safe choice.”

“And how do you know I’m safe?” Makeno asked mildly, curling his lip.

Fayroe gazed up at him for a long moment, before their gaze flicked over to their audience. “Because the old you wouldn’t have a goldblood clinging to him.” They said pointedly.

Makeno expression hardened into a glare, and he stepped in front of Corden protectively. “His blood color has nothing to do with it. He’s my morail.”

“I don’t have blood.” Corden added, unhelpfully.

“Right, sorry- their battery acid.”

Fayroe clearly didn’t know how to respond to that. They opened their mouth and shut it again. Finally, he hung his head, spreading his hands helplessly and letting out a deep sigh. “I don’t know, then. I- I don’t know you anymore, I guess. You’re still familiar, but you’re… not you. You look like my Makey, but… you’re not.” Their fin-fronds wilted, and they slowly raised their eyes again.

“I’m hypothetically on my knees here, begging for your help, Makey. I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? I’m sorry for what I did back then. You and I clearly have different memories of what happened, but- I’m sorry.” Fayroe raised their head, gazing up at Makeno through their bangs; privately, they weren’t even sure if the words that fell from their own lips were truthful.

Makeno set his jaw and said nothing for a long, long moment, his expression hard as he searched the fuchsiablood’s face. Corden sensed the moment the seadweller broke, by the silent sigh and slight dip in his fins.

“You’re a bad liar, Fay. Even if what you say is true, there’s no way in hell that I can believe it after everything you’ve done.” He took a deep breath, holding up a hand to stop the fuchsia as they opened their mouth, “But- fine. Unlike you, I unfortunately give a damn about trolls that aren’t myself. So… you can stay the day. But,” he added quickly as Fayroe perked up, “As soon as the sun fucking sets, I want you gone, you understand me? You’re not to come upstairs, or get within three feet of me or my quads. I’m taking all your fucking knives, and you can have them back when you leave and you’re to never, EVER come around my hive again after tonight, do you understand that?”

Fayroe’s eyes were once again brimming with tears. They nodded vigorously. “I understand. I’ll- I’ll go far, far away, Makey.” He whimpered, sniffling. Slowly, they rolled onto their knees and crawled forward, staring up and reaching for the violetblood hopefully. “Thank you, thank you, so much, Makey-”

“Don’t touch me. And stop calling me that; that’s a nickname for someone who isn’t around anymore.” Makeno growled, disgusted, as he took a step back, “I don’t care where you go.” He turned away. “Corden, could I ask you to set up the guestblock for them?”

“Sure.”

“Erm, can- can I request one thing…?” Fayroe asked hesitantly.

“What?” Makeno snapped.

“It’s just- my hop-beast.” Fayroe explained, his fins drooping, “I left her behind when I fled from Enforcer. I can’t leave her behind, she’s- she’s the only thing I have left.”

“I’m not going to go get your stupid rabbit.”

“Me, neither.” Corden agreed, “But… I know a pair of trolls who would be more than happy to break into Enforcer’s hive. I’ll give them a call.”

Fayroe let out a breath, relieved. “Thank you so much… er…”

“Corden.”

“Oh. Right. Um… nice to meet you?”

“No, it’s not.”

“If that’s all settled,” Makeno interrupted abruptly, turning on his heel and heading off the porch, “I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?”

“To throw rocks into the ocean!”

#drowning in sorrow #story time #fayroe fallen #makeno faslet #corden blalit #long post #very long post #aquatic robotic

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 5 years ago

Note

- person A keeps snoring and person B kicks them every time 😁 either Mer or Baxter. Oh really one- maybe mortal Ahk too. Idc! I’m not picky, just go where your muse takes you darling❤️

The muse chose our sweet, yet sometimes clueless, pharaoh ❤️

* * * * *

It was 1 am.

The perfect time to think of all the ways your life had improved since you met Ahk, your 4,000-year-old former immortal pharaoh turned mortal.

It turned out that the hours between 1 and 3 am were the perfect times to think about how much you loved Ahkmenrah in order not to smother him with a pillow and end the new life that he loved so much—in fact, you wondered if he loved life too much, causing him to fall into such a deep sleep at night that he never knew he was snoring loud enough to keep you awake.

You had tried everything—gently rolling him over, but he’d roll right back onto his back. Making him be the little spoon so you could hold him in place, but as soon as you lost consciousness, it was like it was preprogrammed in his body. He just rolled over, onto his back and the snoring began.

You loved him, truly, but this, you could just not take anymore.

Facing away from Ahk, you gave his calf a good kick.

Nothing—not even so much as a hitch in his steady, chainsaw breathing.

You wound back your leg and gave him another kick, this one hard enough to jostle him.

Nothing.

“Did the spell grant him special dead to the world sleeping powers?” you asked allowed, knowing Ahkmenrah wouldn’t wake up.

This time, when you kicked him, your heel connected hard enough with his ankle to hurt you, so it wasn’t a surprise when Ahk’s breathing hitched and he woke up.

You shut your eyes and inhaled deeply and steadily, feigning sleep.

Ahkmenrah shifted, sighing deeply before drifting back to sleep.

And right back to snoring.

God, you wanted to cry!

If kicking him worked once, maybe it’d work again?

This time, you rolled over so when he woke up you could get him to roll over.

Winding back your leg, you let him have it again, a momentary feeling of glee shivering through your body when he awoke with a start, his eyes popping open and a groan leaving his already open mouth.

“Did you just kick me?”

“Hmm?” you mumbled sleepily.

“You kicked me!”

Damn.

“All right fine. I kicked you!”

Ahkmenrah reached over and turned on the lamp beside your bed, the light making you both squint, but it was clear he was angry.

“What on earth have I done to deserve such horrid treatment?”

“You really wanna know?”

“Of course,” Ahk said, glowering down at you from his seated position, his hair flat in the back and wildly poofy in the front.

“Turn off the damn lamp and I’ll tell you.”

Ahk huffed, but complied, though you could feel him glaring at you.

“You snore and it’s driving me absolutely crazy.”

The lamp turned on again, and you groaned, pulling your pillow over you face only to have it ripped off and flung across the room.

“How dare you tell such a lie! I demand the truth immediately, Y/N, or . . . or you shall suffer a consequence.”

You sat up, frustrated and thoroughly annoyed that your pillow was now resting against the frame of the door to your bedroom.

“Would you like me to record the godawful buzzsawing that comes from your mouth and replay it for you in the morning? Why would I wake you up in the wee hours of the morning to tell you a lie?”

“Kings do not . . . snore. I do not snore!” Ahkmenrah said with disgust, his arms crossed as he looked every bit a petulant boy-king who had never heard a bad word about himself in any of his lifetimes.

“Well, retitle yourself King Snoremenrah because that’s all you do from 1 to 3 every damn night.”

You thought Ahkmenrah was about to swallow his tongue with the way he gaped at you, his lips moving, his eyes bugging—either that or he was swearing at you a thousand times over in ancient Egyptian in his head.

Finally, words did stream forth and you were right—they were in ancient Egyptian, probably. The truth was that he was talking so quickly in such a tight, low voice that it could have been any of the dozens of languages he knew.

Ahkmenrah had flung the covers off and had already given your pillow a good stomp as he stormed out of the bedroom and presumably to your sofa, the vibrations of whatever language he was talking in growing softer as he marched away.

With a sigh, you walked over to retrieve your pillow and paused in the doorway. The allure of finally getting some sleep was strong, but now you felt bad for hurting Ahk’s feelings. It had truly been centuries since anyone had shared his bed, and honestly, what flavor of the week would have ever told Ahkmenrah that he snored?

You walked back to bed and looked again longingly at the blankets and your returned pillow; it would be so wonderful to turn off the lamp and crawl back under the covers, to stretch out, and to actually get some uninterrupted sleep.

Except that you knew you’d miss him: his warmth, his scent, and the way you felt so safe, knowing that he was right there next to you.

“Damnit,” you muttered, making your way out to the living room, the lamp from your bedroom providing just enough light for you to see.

Ahk was facing the back of the sofa, and while you thought his reaction was over-the-top, it wasn’t exactly out of character. Ahkmenrah was forced to grow up much too fast when he was alive the first time, and then he endured a lot of horror in between. Sure, he could be sensitive, but you were lucky that was how things turned out. What he went through could’ve turned him into a monster.

And it was that thought that made you soften.

Ahkmenrah had pulled the sofa’s throw over his bottom half, but his bare back was exposed to you, hunched and small in the shadowy light of the room.

You knew he wasn’t asleep. For one, he wasn’t snoring, and for two, you could see the slight twitching of his fingers as he hugged himself.

You sat down on the edge of the coffee table and lightly ran a finger down his spine.

“Come back to bed.”

Ahkmenrah’s shoulders hunched even farther inward.

“Please, Ahk. I don’t want you to sleep out here all alone.”

You ran your finger up his spine and he reached back to swat at you.

“Leave me alone.”

“Got ya talkin that time,” you said in a soft, teasing voice, your finger running down his spine again.

“Go. Away.”

“Not until you roll over.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“I’m sorry I kicked you—that was mean. Desperate, yes. But mean.”

Ahkmenrah said nothing, but tried to twitch away from your touch, yanking the blanket up to his shoulders and exposing his feet, the hems of his black sleep pants riding up around his calves.

“Come on, love. You can’t stay mad at me forever over something so dumb. I’m sleep deprived!”

“I am not mad.”

“Then what are you?” you asked, truly unsure of what was going through his mind.

He mumbled something you couldn’t make out, and you asked him to repeat it.

With a sigh, Ahkmenrah rolled over, now facing you.

“Scared. I said I was scared.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion and you shook your head, unsure of how what had happened could make him scared.

Ahkmenrah tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and chewed nervously, his eyes owlish in the dim light.

“Help me understand.”

He released his lip with a sigh.

“What other things are you going to discover that you hate about me? All of this is still so new, Y/N. I am still so new,” Ahk finished, his eyes lowered.

“Oh, Ahkmenrah. I am going to discover a million things about you that drive me nuts!”

He looked up, his mouth popping open in an oh of horror.

You laughed.

“But that’s what being in a relationship is all about—you are going to do things that drive me crazy, and I’m gonna do things that drive you crazy, but at the end of the day, those little things that drive each of us crazy would be the first things we would miss if we broke up.”

Ahkmenrah was quiet as he absorbed what you said.

You reached out and stroked his cheek, moving to your knees so you were right in front of his face.

“Hey,” you said softly, getting him to look directly at you in that way that made you feel just a little bit dizzy. “I love you. It will take something a little bigger than a few nights of snoring to make me stop.”

“You bite your nails.”

“What?”

“When we are watching something scary or if you are lost in thought, you bite your nails. It is quite disgusting.”

You closed your eyes and smiled.

“Yes, Ahk. Just like that. Did you stop loving me when you found that out?”

“Of course not,” he said, reaching up to grasp the wrist of my hand that was still resting on his face.

“Will you come back to bed now?”

“If you promise not to kick me again.”

You laughed, “I promise. But maybe we will try that tennis ball in a t-shirt trick?”

Ahkmenrah narrowed his eyes, his face in a distrustful scowl.

“So you won’t lay on your back!”

“You forget, Y/N. I am a descendant of the gods. Now that I know I snore, I can will myself to sleep on my side all night.”

You blinked, biting back your laugh.

“If you think that will—”

“I do not think. I know.”

“Think I can will myself to stop biting my nails?”

“Do not be silly, my love. You are a mere commoner.”

“Is that so?” you said standing. “Guess you still want to sleep on the couch after all.”

Ahkmenrah’s mouth popped open in that same oh of horror as he realized that he had just committed a grave faux pas.

“I—I—I did not mean that you were common, Y/N. You are, of course, an equal in my eyes, just not in the eyes of the gods.”

“Have a good night, Ahk,” you called back before shutting the door to your bedroom and then locking it.

“I am cursed,” Ahkmenrah said, flinging himself onto the couch and staring up at the ceiling.

Time ticked on, and you stretched out in your bed, enjoying the cool side of your pillow as you drifted off into your first undisturbed sleep of the week, the sounds of Ahk’s snores, god-king . . . ha!, stopped by the barrier of your door.

#Ahkmenrah #Ahkmenrah x Reader #gender neutral #fluff #Ahkmenrah fluff #mortal ahk #Mortal Ahk fluff

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guigz1-coldwar · 3 years ago

Text

'An lot of things ' : New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

"An lot of things"

Chapter Summary : After talks in her head with 'Bell' & Lazar while the others were saving her, Yirina could finally awake, free from 2 weeks of been an Perseus prisoner.....and she has an lot of things to say....

Link of the Picrew used !

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +3000

Taglist : @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart

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

Again....I have to wait again....again. I don't know in fact if they managed to save me....or they failed but I'm still thinking so they must have succeeded. When the safehouse disappeared along with Lazar...with everything, it could have probably means that they were getting at the end of the operation to save me. I don't know how but during that long wait, I could have swear that in the back of my head, their voices...I could hear them perfectly at sometimes, trying to keep me alive, to ensure that me, Yirina Grigoriev, will open her eyes again after I passed out and continue to live....

And that what I could feel in my body when, after an very long time of patience, my eyes could finally open slowly, still blurry before discovering where I was now. It was an medical room, the one of the safehouse of Verdansk, me in an sort of hospital bed, still dressed in the same clothes I had for 2 weeks now with the slight difference that bandages were felt below an new shirt that replaced the bloody one, right on the gunshot wound at an few centimeters from my heart, that pain still present.

However, there were no one present in the room except me....&....& Park, laid down on another bed, still sleeping and seeing her like that, it was making me mostly sad, fearing for her state since the moment that she passed out in the jeep but it was looking like she was better on her face. I couldn't stay on that medical bed, despite my state. I was maybe feeling an pain in the shoudler but I was able to get out of the bed, going next to Park's one...to be close of her....they took us apart for 2 weeks, only able to see her once in that period.

"Park." I whispered as I was arriving near her bed, posing my hands delicately on it to look at her before I decided to put my right hand on her face, wanting to feel that touch on my fingers. "We did it...we escaped." I repeated my words of hope to her and....she brought an little smile on her face as she was unconscious, maybe having heard me or dreaming of me.....an smile that I missed.

Honestly, I wanted to take her in my arms, tell her how much I love her and stay with her but....I didn't want to worsen her state, preferring to let her wake up properly before actually doing this with her. As I was so much thinking of her, I was remember Lazar's suggestion in my head....'ask her hand'....it was an good idea and I could refind my mother's ring, still inside the same pocket I put it along with Adler's sunglasses. I took it but for the moment, I decided to keep it with me, putting it at my own hand.

"I'm coming back, Park." I said as I decided to let Park alone for the moment, trying to go find the others before putting an little kiss on her forehead and then, starting to walk slowly out of the room.

I thought that I would find someone that were probably going to get here but instead, I was met with nobody in the small hallway that was separating the dorm to the main room and seeming like it was the beginning of the day, it was more likely to find everyone back in where they were all working and when I slowly open the door, I could find an group of them around what I remember to be Woods's office.

"Bullshit !" The first person that I heard inside that room was Woods himself, sounding an bit enthusiatic....but it wasn't because I was here because he didn't see me, no one saw me....must be playing with cards....

"One queen." I then heard Song spoke up, the person that Woods was looking at. "And....two queens !" She then exclaimed when she put her card on the middle of the desk....is that this game Zasha talked about weeks ago ?...

"How in the fucking world ?" Woods complained, almost ready to throw out his own cards away and no one in the room was seeing me as I was arriving near them...slowly. "It's impossible to have two queens in here !" He then start to pick up the cards in the middle.

"You're just an loser or something, Woods ?" Sims scoffed, an smile on his face before I decided to intervene.

"By looking at it, yes !" I replied at Woods place, laughing about it before retracting because of the pain.

"Go fuck yourself, Yirina !" He yelled, sounding very normal before everyone stopped themselves in their moves, all eyes going wide as they were all now looking at me...finally...."My god !" Woods breathed, been the first to go up from his chair, soon followed by Sims, Wolf & Song.

"Good to see you all." I told them as Woods make the first move, going to take me in his arms, wrapping them around me.....an bit firmly. "Woods, my shoulder." I whispered to him as his arms weren't doing very good to me now.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry." He apologized, withdrawing from me with an smile on his face.

"And we all thought to have lose you." Sims proclaimed, moving to shake hands with me, thinking that he wouldn't do like Woods. "You gave to everyone an damn scare." He added after we shook hands.

"But as we see, you're back." Song was the next one, repeating the same process with her before doing the same thing with Wolf.

"Might need some bourbon, would you ?" Wolf proposed gently but I politely refused for that, gesturing that it wasn't an good idea for me.

"I....how is everyone ?" I asked to all like that.

"Oh, we're well !" Sims responded, removing his cap to scratch his forehead as I moved to get sit on an chair near by....from an desk that wasn't even mine...I couldn't remember where it was. "And you ?"

"I can't really say that I'm well to be honest." I claimed even after getting that promised freedom, it was going to take time....an long time before we can...if we can forget about these events. "I'm sure that you want to know what happened."

"If you don't want to tell, it's okay." Woods expressed his worries about what happened during 2 weeks to me & Park but they all needed to know.

"No, it's important." I told him before I looked around the room, only seeing the four of them inside. "Where's Hudson ?" I demanded.

"He took an flight back to the US...he said that he needed to check up Adler's recovery." Wolf answered as the group were also going to sit on their chairs, moving them to get next to me.

"So, Adler is now safe & already away..." I whispered, thinking about him and seeing him, getting treated perfectly by the CIA. "By the way before starting, take those, Sims." I added, wanting to give Adler's sunglasses to him.

"No, you should give them back to him by yourself, it's better." Sims refused to take them, causing me to keep them with me, wondering why Sims wouldn't want them now.

"What happened, Grigoriev ?" Song questioned me, already in the subject.

"Well, it turned out that our mission in the Yamantau was an trap : Hudson set us up." I started and like I predicted, eyes went wide at all sides.

"That's why that fucker flied away, he didn't want to face you after you accused him to set you up." He rolled his eyes around, looking at Hudson's desk in shame.

"We were captured and it seems that we were hold in an Kastovian base at the north of Verdansk." I continued to tell them the story, slowly because I wanted to tell them...everything. "In fact, they didn't try to torture us." I admitted but I know that this was false...they tortured us mentally. "Just at the beginning."

"Only at the beginning ?" Wolf repeated.

"Wolf, let her speak." Sims objected, putting his hand on Wolf's shoulder before making an sign with his head to continue.

"They tried to make me pass some tests...to bring me back." I said, realizing that I couldn't lie anymore. "Okay, I stop to lie now, I need to tell the truth about who I am !"

"Yirina, you don't..."

"I have to do this, Woods." I cut him straight in his words. "I never actually defected from Perseus...well, I wanted to but someone in the CIA saw something else." I took an deep breath and closing my eyes. "Adler actually brainwashed me." I revealed despite that Sims, Woods & Song were already aware of it but not Wolf.

"Brainwashed ?" I could see him move his lips that were basically saying these words.

"I was given an name...Bell." I whispered, mixed about thinking of that name....was it good or bad ? "The CIA were trying to break me into revealing Perseus location and I did tell them but what I gained was an bullet in the head." I exclaimed, pointing at my scar. "I only woke up 4 months ago in an hospital in Moscow."

"Shit but what happened next ?" Wolf asked, curious & shocked.

"I couldn't go back to Perseus, only going back to the CIA....no, I came back to the MI6, to Park." I asserted my choice, knowing that it was the best to do. "During these 4 months, I managed to get an part of my memories back, discovering things about me that I couldn't believe right." I was sounding an little bit happy by saying that, thinking positively. "When they captured me the 2th of June, I had to act as 'Bell' until I cracked after they almost tried to kill Park." I revealed.

"Damnit but what did they try to do ? Who was there ?" Song demanded.

"Adler was there but they must have transferred him away before you can all recover him the 10th of June." I remembered that moment when Stitch, Freya & Knight looked at that video tape. "I know that because....Stitch viewed an tape of your rescue attempts you did." I told them as they were surprised that I was able to know that.

"We should have maybe cleaned up the place more better." Woods muttered, scratching his cheeks but that wasn't his fault.

"I cracked but they were still hoping to have me back so....they tried to brainwash me again." I breathed by saying those words. "They got their hands on the CIA files about me, they tried to use it against me but somehow, it didn't work."

"Wait, you're actually saying that Perseus tried to brainwash you again ?" I nodded at Sims question, surprised to hear that.

"Perseus thought that they have won and they kept their guard low...Wraith was the one who were accompanying me the day before I escaped with Park." I assured them before my thought was on Freya. "Wraith...is in fact my old girlfriend if you all want to know." I preferred to reveal that detail that I hide to everyone and like I thought, eyes went wide again. "Yeah, I know, that's stupid from me to hide that."

"No, not at all." Song reassured me, reajusting herself on her chair.

"To tell the truth, we did escape with the help of someone on their side : Sonya Kuzmin." I told them, mentioning their name but at the second I told it, I felt like a regret, thinking that I should have keep silence about it. "They...uhm...I was wearing an backpack when I arrived here, where is it ?" I literally changed the subject, hoping that no one was going to ask me back about them.

"Got it, don't move." Woods replied, going up from his chair quickly to get the backpack that was on another desk before coming back with it in his hands. "Here you go." He handed me the bag, taking it in my hands.

"I was able to come back with some of my things but...." I stopped myself when I could feel my hands touching Lazar's diary. "Woods, Sims....it belonged to Lazar." I showed them the book, seeing the sad feeling on their eyes.

"Shit." They both mumbled in unison.

"I don't know how they got it but....it's really strange." I gave my opinion on the subject as I wanted to give them the book but both refused to take it, prompting me to put it back in the bag, thinking that I was the one to keep it. "And then....we were able to escape and...everyone knows what happened next." I exclaimed, keeping the bag on my lap, my hands over it.

"That's quite an big story to say." Sims quoted, passing his hands throught his face.

"And about all of you, what happened in 2 weeks ?" I asked them, now wanting to know their side of the story.

"Nothing too big except Adler's rescue 6 days ago." Woods answered, raising his shoulders to me. "On these 2 weeks, we were mostly trying to find out about where you could have been." He added.

"And where's Rivas ?" I questioned them as I thought that she was also here.

"She got wounded 2 days after we saved Adler and Hudson moved her out of the operation for the time being until she recovered and can come back." Wolf was the one to respond to me crossing his arms and looking towards an direction away. "As you & Park got saved, the CIA is going to think to pull us out of Verdansk but with Perseus moves, it's better to say cautious."

"And it's sure that you're going to need help." I proclaimed but Woods shook his head.

"Yeah but you & Park, you're going back to England." He said but it was sure that our state wasn't going to allow us to stay here.

"Yeah, that's logic." I stated.

"To say, we got calls almost everyday from an certain Zasha Smirnov of the MI6." Wolf scoffed, getting my full attention on him at hearing this name.

"Zasha called you ?" I whispered and everyone nodded.

"They were worried as hell and each day, they wanted to get updated about the situation." Sims completed, passing his hand behind his head. "At least now, they know that you were saved."

"They will be people to replace you & Park for the moment but as we think, you will be out for an long time until you can both come back." Woods explained and I nodded, knowing that we got no choices. "I think that it will be an cryptographer from the CIA called Liliya Petrov, is that right, Sims ?" He demanded and Sims nodded.

"You will be leaving tomorrow, we already make calls to the MI6 and for the moment, you & Park take an rest." Sims told me, getting up from his chair. "Like we said, it's making us very happy that you're still alive." He added with an smile before moving his chair back near Woods desk.

"You're right, I should go back with Park." I breathed, also going up from my chair as the others were putting their chairs back to where they took them. "Thank you all again for having saved me." I thanked them.

"We did what we had to do, Yirina." Woods smiled at me before going back to his desk.

"And now, don't be an loser !" I scoffed, seeing him taking back the cards to play their game and I was greeted by an middle finger from him, making me laugh before I start to move away from the room to get back at the medical room.

It was necessary to tell them everything and now, I was able to go back with Park, hoping that she was maybe awake but when I stepped inside the room, she was still sleeping on her bed, making me feel an bit sad to still see her like that. I returned back near her, now holding her left hand in my right one, keeping it with me gently until....I could witness her eyes slowly opening, sending more delight.

"Yiri...." That was her first word that she pronounced and I was already happy to have her back.

"My god, Park." I whispered, my voice filled with emotions and my eyes starting to cry for real, getting taken over by the emotions. "You're here." I added, an smile on my face and looking at our both hands.

"Yes, I'm here." She slowly grinned to me, her eyes rather focused on the ring that was on my right hand. "Is that your mother's ring ?" She asked and I nodded. "It's looking beautiful."

"Thanks." I snorted, quickly passing my hand through my face to clean up any tears on it. "Park, you don't know how much I'm freaking happy to see you back."

"Me too." She affirmed, sharing the same pain. "Not able to see you for days, it was painful." She continued, taking an breath to focus back. "Seeing you but on that stretcher, it brought me back bad memories."

"I know." I muttered, remembering the events 3 years ago. "I don't know how I managed to hold on and to survive the trigger memories." I said. "Both of us....I maybe going to sound like Adler but...we've really been through hell together, we've really fought together, we've...we've really bled together." I admitted, really sounding like Adler but all true in my words.

"But at the end, we succeeded to survive, now awaiting for the next part." She told me silently before she moved aside a little on her bed. "Please, come." She suggested, wanting to have me on her bed and I had to comply, installing myself on the space she did for me on that bed. "I have thought to have lost you for good when I saw you with that bullet wound." She started, moving her arms around me as I did the same with my left arm, posing it above her shoulders.

"I was already accepting my fate but I was convinced." I proclaimed, sounding sadly as I was feeling back that skin with my fingers...it was making me sad & happy at the same time. "I knew that I have to continue fighting for you and for me."

"And you know that we're here, that I'm here for that." She admitted, getting me closer of her as we both exchanged glares, seeing the sadness in our eyes. "Yirina, I love you, I will never abandon you."

"I love you too, you're the only thing that is keeping me alive with my friends." I affirmed proudly as I closed my eyes, finally feeling the freedom to be back with her again after these horrible days....

"They wanted to break us apart but we showed that we are unbreakable....forever !"

#cod bocw #cod cold war #cod black ops cold war #cod cw #call of duty cold war #cod #call of duty #cod bell #black ops cold war #yirina grigoriev #helen park #fem!bell

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insane-control-room · 4 years ago

Text

The Linework

Chapter Two, Segment Three

previous - next

Spasm

Masterpost

“Sorry to interrupt you two lovebirds,” Sammy’s smooth voice had sent Joey launching to the ceiling via the powerful tool known as ‘surprise’. Sammy ignored his mortified expression, turning to address the more dignified Henry instead. “But we need you downstairs to check the music for the new episode. Allison keeps complaining about one thing and Susie about another. Basically we need you two to either agree with or veto them.”

“Mhm,” Henry got up, picking Boris (who had been oblivious to his parent’s romantic actions) from the floor, tucking him with total ease under his arm and heading down to the music department with Sammy. He turned around, smirking back at Joey, who stared at them, doe eyed and sweet. “Coming?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I am,” Johan nodded, shaking his head to clear it from the yelling that was reverberating in his mind. He tripped over his own feet, Henry snorting and shaking his head as he continued on with Sammy. Johan glanced at the space they once were, and sank into Henry’s chair, breathing hard and heavy. He looked at his hands. One, two, three, four, and five. Same on the other hand. Same on the other hand. Right? Breathe, damnit! You are not under water! You are on land, man, open your eyes and see it right before you! And yet, still, he could not quell the pounding in his chest. His legs felt both like silky soft jelly and quick stabbing pins and needles all at once. What was happening to him? Nothing. Nothing. Everything was fine. So… why did it feel all wrong? He was supposed to do something right now, what was it? His whole body felt numb, twitchy, off kilter. There was only one word to describe how he felt, and his dry, heavy mouth managed to form it. “What?”

He had experienced this before; but before, his mind had matched the state of his body, and in his swapped, uneven, incorrect form, temporally misaligned, his mind was quickly reaching a similar reaction.

Panic can be a lot of things. Such a word is simultaneously a verb, adjective, and noun. And right then, all at once, Joey was all three definitions, yet his mind had not caught up to it yet, though it could be described easily enough to an onlooker (like you).

His body was panicking (the verb), his chest heaved in quick panicked (the adjective) breaths, and his mind was acutely aware of said panic (the noun) overtaking him.

Joey could not see two feet in front of him. Was there anything to see, even? He felt, rather suddenly, light headed, like… like… as though he had lost too much blood.

With a gasp, his head fell back, and he was falling, falling, falling….

He returned to himself with a gasp, gripping the seat of Henry’s chair so tightly his knuckles showed the white of bone beneath nightly dark skin.

Breathing felt like honey on the back of his throat; sticky, sweet, however with that crystalline unscratchable itch on the back of the throat. How long had he been sitting there, in a half present, half reality torn state? As he groggily returned to his senses, he became uncomfortably aware of the fact that it was not only the air that stung like the bees’ produce, but his skin felt clammy, sticky, and his limbs were difficult to maneuver.

God damnit.

Damn damnit goddamnit.

Now that the wave of panic had subsided, he was forced to deal with the wreckage, and how he loathed it. He was late downstairs, right? To the music department. He got up on painful jelly legs, feeling like an old hag back in his hometown who had gotten mad at him for going into the library (and exiting unscathed) had jammed her knitting needles straight through his femurs. Both of them. At once. With about forty needles. Sure, at the time it had happened, one seemed more than enough, thank you, but right then, as he stood, with no needles in his legs (he checked) the pure agony of that simple motion shot nausea roiling through his gut.

He slipped on Boris’ crayons, and yelped as he pitched down into the staircase.

He closed his eyes tight as he waited for his head to bash against some painful and rough surface, but that never happened, instead a rush exiting his lungs as he was caught in soft, muscular arms.

Joey peeked an eye open, and saw Henry looking at him; with some fondness, some concern, and a bit of teasing. Okay, a lot of concern, now that he could get a proper look at him.

“You don’t look so good, Johan,” he told him, even as he carried him, koala style, down the stairs. Johan only grumbled something, he thinks he mentioned a headache, pressing his forehead against Henry’s shoulder. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

“N-no,” Johan mumbled, feeling light and airy. There was a fog misting his mind again already. “Just jittery, is all it is. I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Henry questioned, sounding even more concerned. “You started acting strange as soon as, well, as soon as Sammy interrupted us.”

Inky hands reaching, persecuting, angry and dead.

“Joey?”

“Huh?”

“Stay with me.” Henry’s voice had a tone of commandment. He heard someone ask a question, Henry answering. What a weird answer. “He’s fine, just overworked himself as usual.”

Johan tried to lift his head.

“Mnah,” were the sounds that came out of his mouth. His mouth… he should kiss Henry, right? Yes, that seemed like the right thing. He looked up with glazed eyes to the doctor. The doctor looked so worried. He should kiss the worry away. He pulled himself up slightly, and pressed his lips to Henry’s, a little whisper on his lips. “Love you, Ray. M’sunshine.”

“Johan, snap out of it,” Henry’s hands were warm and solid on his cheeks. He wanted to ask him what he meant. “Joey, can you say where you are?”

“Sure I can, with you,” he easily answered. “In… in… in….”

Where was he?

“The studio, Joey,” Henry’s gorgeous earthlike orbs glinted with compassion and concern as they roamed over his face. “The studio, our studio. Remember?”

He nodded. Yes. He did. And that opened the floodgates of his mind, and his eyes widened as his memory took its course and did its job of remembering.

“Music department,” Joey whispered, and turned bright red. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry, Henry, I, I didn’t mean ta embarrass you like that, how can I make it up f-for you?”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Henry rocked him in his arms. The three kids that were there looked up at them, then decided that the musicians were more interesting than one of their fathers putting the other to sleep, though Alice did let out a dreamy sigh. “You don’t need to do anything. I think a big of good ol’ PDA would help you a lot, especially with that PTSD of yours.”

Joey felt his nose wrinkle.

“You and your acronyms,” he snorted, not quite contemptuously, but close enough to get the point across. “And I hardly know english, and it makes it all the worse.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing the extent of your spanish lexicon,” Henry smirked, watching Johan practically shrink into himself. “I think there would be some interesting words locked away in that pretty head of yours.”

“Explain what you said first,” Joey demanded.

“I mean that you freak out over a lot of things,” Henry sighs. “And then, you completely shutdown. That’s normal behavior for someone who went through what you did.”

He was not wrong, Joey gulped.

“I’m fine.” He muttered, turning away. Henry turned him to face back, glaring, but with love. “Like hell you are.”

Johan blinked, and then pouted.

“I think that loosening up would help you a lot.” Henry informed him. “More spark, less routine.”

“I like order, Henry,” Johan shuddered as he recalled a world without order, ones and zeros strewn about haplessly, without any true form, no meaning behind any of them. “I need it.”

“You’ve grown dependent on it,” Henry corrects him with a small, sad smile. “Too dependent. You said it just now. You need it. It’s… it’s the opposite of Numerica, isn't it? Truly chaos disguised by order. Numerica was order disguised by chaos. You need to let go, Joey. You hold too tight to the moment. You need to let go, to go with the flow, to overcome each hurdle as it comes. Chaos is a part of our world. You need to let it in, sometimes.”

Joey does not even bother arguing.

Henry is right, he knows it, and Henry knows that he knows.

So he lets the music of their little orchestra sweep over him, and tries to lose himself in the contours of the melody, tries to soak up the unexpectedness and nuance of simply sound from instruments, hoping that his body could keep up.

#joey drew #henry stein #joey x henry #the linework #the big picture #tbp #sammy lawrence #panic attack #tw panic #ptsd #dependency #fear of the unknown

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jungle321jungle · 4 years ago

Text

Ten of Swords- Level Four: Resurrection and Friendly Fire

The world of Swords of Power and Conquest was one Virgil dove head first into, giving his soul and life to the game. He would play whenever he could, and had even decided he wanted to go into game design. At times he had even dreamt of how wonderful it would be to be inside that world for even a moment- until that world became his reality.

The familiar world he had come to love was now a foreign prison, one with no way out.

A Log Horizon AU. If you don’t know what that is, this is a Show Better Than SAO AU. If you still don’t know, the sides get trapped in a video game.

Taglist: @angels-and-dreams @ollyollyoxinfree @gattonero17 @chumo-cookie @dreaming-always @anxiety-ismy-name @mrbubbajones @janustheliar @why-do-you-care

Ao3 - Masterlist

Level Four: Resurrection and Friendly Fire

Virgil came to with a large and almost painful gasp.

He sat up quickly, hands grasping at his own body in a mix of dying fear and disbelief. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths and closed his eyes. Anything to calm his quick beating heart. When he had he opened his eyes and looked around the familiar scene of the in-game hospital. At the foot of his bed stood an NPC woman in a nurse’s uniform who gave him a smile, “I hope you are feeling better sir, the doctors worked very hard to fix you up and their pay has already been deducted from your account. Before you leave, would you like to purchase some health potions?”

Virgil blinked a few times before shaking his head. “No- no I’m fine.” With that said he stood to his feet and took another deep breath.

The others.

Shit. Shit. Shit . They were all still fighting. He couldn’t afford to stay here. He hurried for the hospital’s exit as he focused in on Dee in hopes of sending a message. It seemed to take too long but then he got the sound of connection.

“Dee?”

“Oh thank God!” Dee’s voice shouted from the other side. “I- Logan I don't care about your hypotheses or what you did or didn’t confirm! I hadn't seen anyone di- can you just- damnit Logan! Can you please just focus on the fucking monster!?”

Virgil couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled out a teleport crystal, “Don’t kill it till I get there. I think I figured something out before I died.”

They weren’t doing well when Virgil returned.

HP was low across the board. Roman was in the red with Logan, Patton and Dee in the yellow- no and now Dee had joined Roman. And to make things worse, given Patton was fighting instead of healing he must be out of mana. “Drink some potions idiots!” Virgil shouted as he approached.

“See we would do that if we weren’t being attacked every five seconds!” Roman screeched back dodging a hit.

“It took you long enough!” Dee shouted, keeping his crossbow trained on the monster waiting for his shot. But he kicked over the reverted sword as his feet. “You’re a scrap picker dumbass, you should know not to die with the good stuff in your hands!”

Virgil gave a slight laugh as he picked up the sword and watched it return to a dadao. “Won’t happen again.”

“What did you figure out?” Logan asked, coming over, downing a potion as he did.

“Combinations and lags,” Virgil answered. “Well it’s more a theory. I need to try again first. Roman, let's do that again!”

“Don’t die this time!” Patton called.

“I’ll take his place,” Logan decided, moving forward.

Virgil gave a nod and rushed toward the fight. Patton was doing well enough with his short sword, he seemed to be pretty nimble and able to dodge well. Good traits for a healer. Roman’s HP meanwhile was getting lower.

“Where’s Remus?” Virgil called as they approached.

“He died a minute ago!” Roman called back as he fell back and Logan rushed in to take his spot. “So we're doing this again?”

“We need to position ourselves at its back while they keep the front occupied. I won’t die in one hit that way.”

“Just do it quickly please!” Patton called.

Virgil took a deep breath and then he and Roman were running. Roman planted himself facing the opposite direction of the yino and Virgil ran past him. Then when he was far enough away he readied himself.

The yino still had 35% left.

But if this worked that wouldn’t matter. They could kill hit. He could kill it. All he had to do was-

He was running. Sprinting. And then it was a combo sprint. He couldn’t stop the smile on his face as the world became a blur, and then he was jumping before he jumped. It didn’t make sense in theory- but the timing worked. And he was using Roman’s shield as a springboard launching towards the monster. Virgil forced his body to twist as he brought his sword round. And then he swung a moment early and brought his sword down through the monster’s neck.

With no way to slow his momentum Virgil crashed to the ground and rolled on the other side. It hurt- but compared to earlier and the joy he was feeling in that moment it didn’t matter. He hurriedly pulled himself to his feet and turned just in time to watch the yino topple. The beast collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud. And then moments later it burst into ash and was gone. Leaving only the loot behind.

Virgil was still standing staring in shock and disbelief when a body crashed into his, sending him back down to the ground. But Patton laughed as they fell, and Virgil couldn’t help but laugh too.

“Holy shit that worked!” Roman cheered from elsewhere.

“How did you do that?” Logan’s voice demanded.

Virgil pulled himself to his feet before he gave Patton a hand up which he took. “Any combination needs to be inputted before it’s acted on. There’s a lag. I don’t know how to explain moving before you move but it- it works.”

Logan looked more annoyed than pleased at the information, but instead his focus shifted to what they had earned. “Well you killed it Anthony, I suppose you get the first pick of the items and then the rest is distributed evenly?”

When no one argued Virgil stepped forward to look at the items. A few monster parts, two swords- one with pretty decent stats- gold, and other miscellaneous items. After a pause Virgil took the sword he had been holding and placed it in his inventory before selecting one from the ground. Dee was right, he was being stupid to use his highest level item right then, especially if he didn’t trust the group he was with. He had been lucky Dee was the one who picked it up and not someone else.

“This is what I want,” he announced. “How should we split the rest?”

~~~~

“Why did you wait till I died to be all cool?” Remus complained. “I was having fun Tony! Not to mention your death was way cooler than mine!”

Virgil gave an awkward laugh into his glass of water, “Next time uh, you can have the more painful death.”

“That’s all I ask!”

“I think you’ve had enough to drink Re,” Patton decided, patting Remus on the back.

“I’m- I'm fine!”

“Who knew both of those partying twins were lightweights,” Logan commented, nudging the sleeping Roman with his foot. Virgil chose not to comment on how he was pretty sure that if Logan stood from his spot that the Classy Tactician would immediately trip over his long cloak and fall down the hill they were sitting on top of.

“I think we’ve all had enough,” Patton amended taking Remus’ mug.

“You and Virgil didn’t drink any!” Remus challenged, but he laid down anyway.

“Because we’re gonna be on watch. Also I’m too young to drink.”

“It’s a game, who cares?”

“How old are all of you?” Logan asked curiously. “If you’re too young to drink you’re a lot younger than I thought.”

“I’m nineteen,” Patton answered easily. “You?”

Logan’s eyebrows knit in confusion as he replied slowly, “I’m... twenty seven.”

“Oh cool! What about the rest of you?”

“I’m twenty one and Tony is twenty,” Dee answered before Virgil could.

“I’m twenty four... Also I’m twelve minutes older than Roman,” Remus answered but he looked back to Patton and squished Patton’s cheeks between his hands. “More importantly, you’re a fetus!”

Patton gave a slight laugh, “You definitely need to stop drinking. Actually why don’t we all stop and get some sleep like Roman, hm?”

“I am perfectly fine,” Logan disagreed. He moved like he was gonna stand from his spot but he quickly returned to a seated position. “But I am also responsible and will not have another drink.”

“Yeah I’m sure that’s the reason,” Dee laughed.

“It is. The real question however, is why you carry this much alcohol around with you?”

“Tavern’s supply is limited. By taking a large amount of my stock, MannaM is forced to go get more for me.”

“You’re forcing your employee to do more work since you don’t want to do it?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

Logan gave a sigh and he laid back, “You're insufferable.”

“Thank you.”

Virgil rolled his eyes before redirecting his attention to Patton who was smiling satisfied as Remus made himself comfortable to sleep. “I’ll take the first.”

Patton didn’t argue as he too made himself comfortable on the ground, “Okay.”

“You sleep too Sam.”

Dee gave him a dismissive wave, “I don’t sleep when I drink. I’ve learned that the hard way.”

“Maybe it’s different in the game?”

“Doubt it.”

They lapsed into silence leaving Virgil to listen to the sound of the warm night. He could hear bugs, feel breezes, and more than that, he felt relaxed. For the first time since entering this game he actually wasn’t terrified or stressed. Because if there was one thing he knew, it was how to play.

~~~~

The days which followed were more than helpful. Prior to this training to play had been difficult, frustrating, and fruitless, and yet now Virgil knew what to do. With each day that passed he has gained more experience and was getting better- hell at this rate of improvement he could up a level soon. And one by one his party members had done the same.

“Yes!” Dee shouted, pumping a fist in the air. “It worked!”

Virgil couldn’t help but give a slight smile at his business partner’s enthusiasm. “Congrats, you’ve officially learned how to fight.”

Beside Dee, Logan gave a dejected sigh, “I still don’t understand how you all are doing it.”

“Think about it like your keyboard and mouse,” Virgil suggested. “You have to hit every key in the right sequence at the right time for your character to move and for a skill to work. But you need to have the motions in your mind before you do the action. Your mind works faster than your body. So in this version of the game, you need to be doing both at once. You need to be moving and anticipating before it actually works. Does that make sense?”

“No,” Logan deadpanned. “That’s simply how anything works, the concept is not specific to this game.”

“How about thinking about a recipe?” Patton suggested. “In the midst of baking, you gotta make sure you’re still focused on the instructions at the same time as you’re mixing the batter.”

“Once again an unhelpful nonspecific example.”

Patton gave a slight frown in response but before he could reply Logan turned on his heel, his cape flowing behind him as he moved toward the group of weak monsters.

“It’s like dancing!” Roman called after him. “The more you think about the steps, the worse you do!”

“I’ll figure it out on my own,” Logan replied. He drew his sword and moved into a ready stance and Virgil could only sigh in response. It had been a week since the yino fight, and Logan was the only one who couldn’t link skills together. His normal fighting ability could get him through weak monsters like this, but if they really wanted to go after the swords and fight other players and boss monsters... Logan would become no more than dead weight.

Virgil watched him for a while as the others moved off to train on their own, but Virgil couldn’t take his eyes off the scowl on Logan’s face. But after watching him try and fail repeatedly, Virgil forced himself to move closer. “You okay?” Virgil asked as he cautiously approached Logan. The man was hunched over a pile of monster drops and was poking through it with disinterest, but he stood at the question.

“I’m fine,” he replied shortly.

“I-”

“You should be training yourself Tony. Boss battles are far different from scrappicking.”

Virgil clenched his jaw, “I know that. I plan to save my mana for when we move and get near higher level monsters. I need more experience fighting in a party.”

“I’m going further in the woods,” Logan declared. “I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

~~~~

“You can’t force people not to be stubborn, love,” Dee advised. “And we’ve known for years now that Tact is stubborn as hell.”

Virgil gave a sigh of agreement, that much he knew. Logan was undoubtedly one of the most stubborn players he had ever met, but it had done him well as the Tactician. His stern and stubborn attitude kept his emotions out of his work, and his loyalty then went to the highest bidder as opposed to his friends. Virgil gave a shudder as he silently remembered the way he and Logan had first crossed swords on a battlefield. It had been almost two years ago now, Dee had asked him to infiltrate a major guild. Virgil had and when war time came he found their opponents had hired Logan. Initially he had been excited to see the familiar face, he thought maybe they could exchange information. But then Logan instead told his companions every weakness Virgil had and how to quickly defeat him.

“Friends don’t pay, work does,” Logan had told him afterwards.

Dee had given a hearty laugh, “And this is why we’re friends!”

Virgil meanwhile, had only sulked.

“There’s gotta be something I can help Logan with,” Virgil told Dee quietly. “I feel restless not doing anything and-”

“And running the numbers I am more likely to hold you back more than anything,” Logan finished loudly. Virgil’s mouth dropped open to quickly defend himself but Logan didn’t even look surprised or offended. “I understand the line of thinking. I had the same thought.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it kiddo!” Patton tried.

“I am older than you, Patton.”

“You all are! But you’re all still my kiddos.”

“He’s just the natural mom friend,” Remus shrugged. “Hey dad, when will dinner be done?”

Patton gave a beaming smile, “Whenever Virgil cooks it. But... Logan I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”

“It’s not my night to cook,” Virgil said in confusion.

“Well it’s Dee’s so yes it is.”

Virgil gave a curse as he stood (gaining a stern look from Patton) but watched as Patton turned his attention back to Logan. “You can ask for help okay? I know I haven’t been playing for near as long as you, but if there’s something I can do let me know okay?”

Logan didn’t bother with a response.

“Don’t baby him,” Dee said, rolling his eyes. “Let’s-” his next words were cut off as he paused and closed his eyes as if listening. “You sure?” He asked finally. “Alright I’ll be back soon enough.”

“Everything good?” Roman asked.

Dee gave a sharp nod, “Got some new intel that we need to cash in sooner than later. I won’t give details until we get there because I’d like to make sure there aren’t any leaks, no offense. But with that said, I was going to say, Patton you can’t sugar coat this.” He turned to Logan. “Tact you got two days to figure it out and then we are heading to the tavern to move on the mission with or without you. Your choice.”

“Dee!” Patton said quickly. “You can’t just-”

“There’s nothing we can say or do that will make him stop over thinking things, Patts. And now that we know how to play and we’ve got information to move on we need to get moving. It’s not exactly like this game will be easy to beat.”

“Feel free to leave now,” Logan stated. “I don’t exactly need you all to stare and watch me fail. I am very well aware that I am a disappointment.”

“Two days,” Virgil said before anyone else could speak. “That’s an ultimatum for all of us. So let’s get some rest and work more in the morning.”

Two days. Virgil could only hope that was enough.

~~~~

Logan had insisted on spending the day alone. And this time Virgil let him be. Well actually he had intended to go talk to him later, but it seemed Logan’s contained anger had only increased with time so he hadn’t gone and spoken to the older player.

“We leave tomorrow before dinner,” Dee was saying as they all relaxed around the fire. “When we get back we can talk business over food."

No one argued, all agreed. But all eyes were still on Logan, but it seemed staying away from him all day had brought Virgil to a conclusion on what he would have to do.

“Fight me.”

Logan’s annoyed expression didn’t change. “I thought we discussed not fifteen minutes ago at breakfast that I wished to train alone?”

“We did,” Virgil nodded slowly moving to stand further from Logan. “But I need to improve my fighting against other people rather than dealing finishing blows. And you have analyzed me more times than I can count. So, I think we can both benefit. Rather than telling you to stop overthinking I’m telling you to do what you do best.” Virgil drew his sword from his back and got into a ready stance. “Long as you swear not to get too mad if I wipe the floor with you.”

Logan gave scoff, “Fine. I suppose I can let out some frustration on you. Once you’re unable to continue I’ll proceed with my day.”

“I don’t think this a good idea!” Interrupted Patton's voice. “Can't you just-”

Virgil didn’t turn to look, but he did hear as Remus gave a loud cheer which drowned the last of Patton’s words. And he couldn’t exactly stop the smile which was on his face as Logan readied himself. This would be fun.

~~~~

Level Three - Level Four - Level Five

#oh look i posted something so im not dead after all!#the boys are gonna fight #videogame au #the bois get swords i dont make the rules #anxceit #anxceit will come #so will logince and intrulogical #logince #intrulogical #virgil sanders #Janus Sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders

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starbuck09256 · 5 years ago

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A dim light of hope

Post Demons Ep

MSR

tagging the amazingly always wonderful @today-in-fic I appreciate you and hope you and your family are healthy and safe during this crazy time.

It’s mostly a blur. The journey with her arms around him holding him up through a line of bright police lights and cars. He smells her conditioner, as he struggles to put one foot in front of the other. She is tiny under his heavy arm, and he knows that she is having trouble just keeping him up as she walks them to her car. The darkness around them penetrated with silent sirens of despair. She pulls open the passenger door. Struggles to push him in as a cop comes up to her. She holds out her hand, she knows they need a statement. She knows she should take him directly to the hospital. He crumbles in the seat, his upper body folding against itself with the open door and her voice whispering in the wind around him. She reaches down and touches his face and strokes it in that lovely concerned way she does.

“Mulder?” his eyes reach hers and he sees what he has put her through.

His partner, the dark circles under her eyes, the hollowness of her cheeks from weight loss. He sees what the last several days have done to her. Seen what the last few months as she has fought for her life against a disease attacking her beautiful soul. He knows he is a selfish bastard, he takes this reckless act to try and find answers to save her and himself. Knowing that it might have claimed him in the process. But if it had at least he wouldn’t have to face her demise. He wouldn’t have to be there in the hospital when she takes her last breath, he wouldn’t have to stand at her grave with a pathetic bouquet of her favorite flowers, knowing that his soul was buried under 6 feet of dirt and grass. He wouldn’t have to come into an office and slam his fist against a door that should have had her name and a desk that was more than hers. He wouldn’t regret every single second he didn’t tell her exactly how much she had come to mean to him. He pulls her slender fingers from his face and wraps them in his as he brings her knuckles to his lips.

“I’m sorry.” and god is he. She licks her lips and bites down nodding as she pulls her hand from his and closes the door.

He leans back against the seat he can still feel the weight of when she laid against his back in that dark room as he fought against his demons. He watches as she talks briefly to another agent. The one who wanted to blame him for everything. She is quick and moves around the car to the front seat. He watches as her whole body folds into the chair. She moves a little slower now. He hadn’t really noticed the strain of the last few days on her skin. She puts the keys in the ignition flicking it over as it hums to life against him. Even this engine has more life in it than the two of them together. She goes to shift and stops looking at him with watery eyes but says nothing. He can’t help but let his face fall against the seat as he watches her. She shallows and shifts backing up slowly through a maze of police tape and cars. He thinks she will take him straight to the hospital. To finally get those tests and prove that he is not ok. He is never ok without her, no test is going to show her that but it is certainly how he feels.

His mind slows as she navigates them to the hotel. When she finally cuts the engine and grips the steering wheel, he turns to her. Tears stream down her face and she doesn’t bother to hide them like before. She rubs them away and opens the door moving to his side. His door opens and the whiff of air chills his clammy skin. She braces to help him up, and he is glad as he struggles slightly into her arms. She carries them forward to the one room they have. For this wasn’t an investigation they sought out, this was him, trying to save her and himself in a reckless attempt. Because that is what you do when the world is falling apart. When you see that everything you didn’t bother to cherish is going to be lost to you in a matter of months. When she finally gets them inside and deposits him onto the soft bed he looks at her. Look at her small frame shuttered under a heavy coat. He sees her hair slightly mused, her makeup smudge ever so slightly from her earlier tears.

“How could you do this to me?” so soft and so full of raw pain. He doesn’t know, well he does, but can he admit it? Can he tell her that he is so afraid of losing her that he has to go first. That he wants to save her so badly that any cost to him is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things?

Before he knows what to say he moves to envelop her in his arms, tears lingering on his eyelids.

“I can’t bear it,” he mutters against her silky hair.

She shutters in his arms. Looking up at him as he kisses her hair.

“You would be so selfish as to let me die alone Mulder? Really?” he feels the intense pain of her words cutting through him in one deep stroke. His forehead pressed against hers.

“Scully, I.. am such an asshole.” she gives him that sad chuckle pulling back to look at him.

“We don’t have time left for this Mulder. We don’t have time for reckless behavior.”

Her sad smile and sniffle spur him on. They don’t have time, not nearly enough, even if she wasn’t dying. Even if they met 10 years earlier, no amount of time would be enough with her. He needs infinity. He needs to bask in her shadow for centuries, unlocking pieces of her mind, while he memorizes her soul. He leans down and kisses her, tentatively and then with all the passion he can muster. Lifting her up into his arms as he sits down on the bed placing her in his lap so he can enjoy a slightly less height difference. The kisses are deep, long and he can barely gasp for air before he demands more of her lips and damnit she gives in to him. Lets her nails scratch the nape of his neck. Lets his hands smooth across her back. God she is so fucking thin. When she pulls back and presses her hands against his chest he stares at her begging her with his eyes to not overthink this. To not try and decipher his motives. She moves getting off his lap crossing her arms across her chest to hug herself. He wants to be the one doing that. He grabs her back pulling her into his arms as he stands and he kisses her again, gently, not demanding more than she can give because she has already given everything she has and he knows it, believes it to his core.

“We shouldn’t.. Not because of.. “ she doesn’t like to say it. Likes to live in a land where months mean years, but now they are in weeks and it feels like seconds.

“I can’t bear losing you Scully and I know you may not believe in everything, but believe me when I say this. I’m not sure I can take losing you, not… not after everything.”

Her sadness is suffocating. She nods, because she knows. His truth, his questions, she must face that her mortality will be the end of the questions and the search because even if he found his sister, it wouldn’t take the place that she has taken up in his heart because he has the same place in hers. They have encompassed each other in a way neither intended but with a conviction stronger than the people they protect. She sighs against his lips and lets her fingers run against his forehead.

“I love you Scully.” she hears the pain in the truth of it.

”I know… and I’m so scared, Mulder.”

She falls against his chest tears cascading down her cheeks soaking his shirt as he helps them fold down to the ground, stroking her back until he can kiss her cheeks.

“We can still fight, we are still holding up, and it… it isn’t over yet Scully. Please don’t give up just yet on me, on us.” She sniffles and kisses his lips lightly.

“I’ve never given up on you Mulder and I certainly believe in us.” she smiles at him. He nods, accepts the forgiveness she is offering. Later when she sleeps in his arms he sees the darkness coming for him, but there is a dim light too, of hope.

#myfic #finally wrote something again #geez quarantine life is hard #and I'm over it #but not like those crazy protesters #mulder and scully #xfiles #cancerarc #always sad #sorry #love reblogs and tags #hope all my followers are surviving #appreciate you guys

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ladycatofwinterfell · 4 years ago

Text

Consequences, part 4

Catelyn and Ned decided to walk different ways after their relationship of three years, for good reasons. Ever since that Catelyn have kept a secret from him. When she one day, ten years later, decides that she should tell him they meet for the first time since the breakup. It takes them no time at all to fall back into old habits. The problem is that Ned is married, and that Catelyn is still keeping that damn secret. The only thing they can be sure of is that actions have consequences.

This feels incredibly messy, but I hope it’s worth the read. Enjoy!

“Catelyn, what happened?”

Ned felt like he couldn’t breathe. What had happened to her? A million different terrible scenarios came up in his head and he tried to wave them away, but it was impossible. What had hurt her? He wanted to hold her close to him, comfort her. Assure her of that everything would be alright. But he couldn’t. Because she wasn’t with him.

She mumbled something incoherent and then she started crying again. It broke his heart in two. To hear her so devastated. It was terrible.

“I need you to come here” she whispered after a minute. “Could you come here? Please.”

He would have walked through the fires of hell for her in that moment. Anything for her.

“Yes. I’ll be on my way in five minutes.”

“Thank you” she sniffed. “I love you.”

He glanced at Ashara, made sure that she was still sleeping. Then he answered her.

“I love you too.”

She hung up and he sat still in the dark for a moment, still thinking about what could have happened to her. He should have called her earlier. He should have made his decision. He should have decided whether he would stay with Ashara or leave.

He gently shook Ashara’s shoulder. He couldn’t just leave without telling her something.

“What is it?” she mumbled, still not quite awake.

“Lyanna called. I don’t know what it is, but something has happened. I need to go to her.”

He felt bad for using that lie to go to Catelyn, because sometimes it was true. Sometimes Lyanna called in the middle of the night and needed him to come to her. It had been like that for a long time. But he had to get to Catelyn.

“Okay. Do you know when you’ll be back?”

“No. It might take an hour, I might need to take the day off from work.”

Whatever it was, he wanted to stay with Cat until she was feeling better.

Her hand found one of his and squeezed it.

“Say hello from me.”

“I will.”

Lyanna had never really taken a liking to Ashara the way she had to Cat. He had almost believed she would continue to be friends with Catelyn after they had broken up, but from what he knew they had not seen each other.

He left the bed, Ashara was already snoring softly again by the time he had dressed. Catelyn had been completely quiet and still when she had been sleeping close to him. He had almost thought her to be dead at times, but she had breathed. And she had looked to be so at peace that seeing her had brought a smile to his face.

He rushed downstairs, found the keys to the car and went outside. The night was dark and chilly, but the sky was clear and filled with stars. He had to keep himself from driving over the speed limit. He just wanted to come to Cat as quickly as he could. Help her in whatever it was that made her feel such pain.

The door was unlocked, but the apartment was dark when he came inside. He was about to call out for her when he remembered that her son was probably sleeping. And just then Catelyn came tiptoeing into view.

“You came” she whispered.

“Of course I came. I will always come when you ask me to.”

She came over to him and hugged him. Wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly, as if though her life depended upon it. It was not a kiss, but it was just as desperate as her kisses had been. What had happened?

He ran a hand through her hair and kissed their top of her head. She wasn’t crying as she had done earlier, but there was something about her that he didn’t like at all. She was afraid. And he hated whatever it was that made her so afraid. He would do anything to make it better.

“I’m sorry” she mumbled.

“For what?”

She pulled away from him and his first instinct was to pull her back into his arms, but he didn’t. He let her back away a few steps, like she was afraid of how he would react. He wanted to tell her that there was nothing to be afraid of, but that would do no good.

“I’m pregnant.”

For a moment he thought that he had misheard. No, it couldn’t be true. They had been careful. It was impossible. There had been some sort of misunderstanding. It couldn’t be his child.

He could barely see her in the dark, and she was so quiet.

“I don’t mean anything by this, but are you sure it’s mine?”

She laughed. A low, and very bitter laugh.

“I feel pathetic now, but yes. I haven’t seen anyone else.”

So apparently there had not been a misunderstanding. He didn’t really know what to feel. He was supposed to feel bad about it, of course. Because he had a wife, and a son at home. But he couldn’t quite do that. Some part deep down even felt happy. Catelyn was pregnant with his child. They had made a child. All the times he had dreamed of their children, it could become true. But could he leave one child’s mother for another one’s mother? It would have been less complicated if he hadn’t already been a father.

“Cat?”

“Yes?”

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know, Ned” she sighed. “I don’t know.”

She walked into the apartment and Ned followed behind her.

Someone would get hurt no matter what they chose to do. The question was just about who. Was he ready to ruin things for other people if that meant that he could be with Catelyn and their child? He didn’t know. There was a lot of things he didn’t know. And it was driving him mad.

She carefully closed the door to her son’s room, and then she sat in one of the armchairs. He sat on the couch.

“Do you want to keep it?” he asked.

“I don’t know that either. I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“That choice is yours, and yours only. I will go along with whatever you want to do.”

He would not force her or stop her from doing anything.

“And if I say that I would like to keep it, that I want this child, what would you say?”

“That I will try my best to do it right.”

“Even if that means wronging your wife?”

That was an important question. Having that child and acknowledging it as his, would definitely be to wrong his wife. And Jon. Gods, Jon. If he divorced Ashara, left her for Cat. Would he be able to look Jon in the eye? “I’m sorry for breaking up your family, son. But I had to leave for this other woman with this other child”. He wouldn’t leave Jon. He would still be his son, he would take care of him, be a dad to him, just as he always had. He just wouldn’t be together with his mother.

But on the other hand, was it really fair for anyone to stay in that marriage and pretend? Put up a show with them, only to later go to Catelyn and quit with the pretending? That wasn’t fair to anyone. In the end it would just be bad for everyone. Especially for Ashara. He couldn’t do that to her, she was a fantastic person and she definitely deserved better than a cheating husband. It was better to just do it. Get a divorce before it got too messy.

“If we go through with this Ashara won’t be my wife anymore. I can’t live my life with her and see you in secret when what I want is to be with you. I can’t do that to her.”

“I want you to know that I’m not demanding you to do anything. It’s fine, really. I can take care of this on my own. No one has to know it’s yours. You can live your life with your family and forget about me and this baby. No one knows Robb is yours, I can do it again.”

“Catelyn. No. I know you’re not demanding anything. This is what I– wait what?”

~*~

Damnit. Her tongue had slipped, she had not meant to say that. And for half a second Catelyn had believed that it was fine, that he had not heard that part, but then he had stopped mid sentence when realization hit him. She had lived with it for so long. And she had lived without consequences for so long. But they would come. In seconds they would come for her, chew her up and spit her out. He would probably not divorce his wife after that. He would never want to see her again.

“Could you repeat that?”

She really wished not to. And she could tell by the tone in his voice that he had heard exactly what she had said.

“I think you heard me” she said, her voice barely even a whisper.

She was such an idiot. Everything would be ruined, and she only had herself to blame.

“And is it true?”

There was no point in lying, he would see right through her. She had said it out loud. She had fucking said it. And nothing she did would be able to make it unsaid.

She looked down at her hands, then up at him again. She couldn’t see all of him in the dark, but she could see that he was still and quiet, waiting for an answer. He was probably furious. And he had all rights to be.

“I was pregnant when we broke up. And by the time I found out you had already moved to a different city. I didn’t want to bother you, force anything upon you, so I didn’t contact you. And when you came back I heard through rumors that you had a girlfriend. And I couldn’t bring myself to ruin that for you with a son you never even wanted.”

No answer came. Yes, he was furious. He hated her. She could tell by the silence.

Catelyn felt the panic pulse through her body. It was eating her up. She wanted to cry, she wanted to beg for his forgiveness. But she couldn’t. She could only tell him the truth and let him do whatever he wanted with it.

“How could keep that from me?” he said, his voice barely controlled. “How could you keep my son a secret? Damnit, Catelyn! I could have been a father to him if you had given me the chance.”

“I didn’t know you wanted children. And I knew for sure you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I wanted everything with you. I wanted five children, and a big house and a happy life with you. But we didn’t work for just this fucking reason. Never telling each other the entire truth. We could have had it though. But we didn’t. Because you took my son from me.”

That actually made her angry. How dared he?

“I didn’t take anything from you! Robb is my son! He has no father! Don’t come here and pretend that I took something from you when it was never even yours to begin with! And don’t you dare say that it was my fault we aren’t married with five kids and a house, because you know damn well that it was you fault too! Don’t pretend that I was the only one making mistake after mistake, because you did it too!”

“Are you out of your mind? I’m his father, he is my son! I had a right to know! And you cannot compare anything I did to keeping a child a secret!”

“You didn’t have a right to anything! You moved to a different city, we broke up and you left everything that had to do with me! Including him! And everything you did is the reson to why I never told you!”

“How could you do that to him? Leave him without a father?”

“Are you really going there? Are you really going to tell me that I have in some way wronged my son? He never needed a father, he has me! I’m his parent and I’ve done very well without you! And I’m starting to believe that keeping him from you was the right thing to do!”

She had not been aware of that she stood up, but suddenly she was. He was standing as well.

“Are you telling me that you think I’m an incompetent father?”

“I don’t know. I’m not perfect, but I don’t think you win any father of the year awards when you leave your kid in the middle of the night to go to your mistress!”

That one actually hurt him. She could see that she had hit a bit too close. But she couldn’t bring herself to care. She wanted it to burn.

“Did you want to keep this one a secret too?”

The accusing tone in his voice made her want to shout even louder. He was such an idiot. Why did she love him? Did she even love him? It didn’t feel that way.

“Are you fucking stupid? I told you about it! Or did you miss that part?”

“Well, I will be here for this child at least, because you were nice enough to actually tell me this time. But know damn well that I won’t leave Ashara for you.”

“Oh don’t you dare set your foot here another time. You’re not welcome.”

She didn’t want to see him ever again. And she definitely didn’t need his help with anything, she was a perfectly capable mother on her own.

And with that he left. She fell back in her armchair when she heard the door slam shut. She couldn’t breathe. It was like a pressure over her chest, threatening to suffocate her. She was so stupid. So damn stupid. But so was he. Gods, she hated Ned Stark. She hated him so much that she could feel it burning in her. She wanted to have the baby, but she wished it had not been his.

“Mom?”

For a minute she had forgotten about Robb. They must have woken him with their shouting.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Who was here? And why was he angry with you?”

Catelyn pushed herself up from the armchair and walked over to Robb.

“It doesn’t matter, he won’t come back. Let’s go back to bed.”

She kissed his forehead after she had tucked him in.

“Are you sure?” his little voice asked.

“About what?”

“That he won’t come back. I don’t want him to come back and shout more.”

It must have scared him. It hurt in her heart that they had scared him. He never wanted her son to be afraid. Especially not of her. She wanted him to be happy, carefree. She wanted him away from the adult world and all it’s problems. And she didn’t want him anywhere close Ned again.

“Yes, I’m sure. He won’t come back.”

“Good.”

She stroke his hair.

“I have exciting news for you tomorrow” she said and tried to smile.

It was a bad idea to tell him before she was sure of that she wouldn’t lose it. There was always a high risk of a miscarriage that early, but she wanted him to have something good. He wanted a sibling. And unless something went terribly wrong he would have one. It was no father, she couldn’t get him that. But it was something.

“Really?”

He also smiled then, probably fantasizing about what it was that she would tell him.

“Yes. I’ll tell you when I’m home from work. You’ll love it.”

“Can you tell me now, please?”

Was there anything like the excitement of a child that knew it would be let in on a secret? Catelyn didn’t think so. He would be a great older brother, she was sure of that. They would be a happy little family, just the three of them. It would be fine. She would make sure of that.

“No. It’s a secret until tomorrow. Now sleep, sweetheart, you have school tomorrow.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Mom.”

“Goodnight.”

She turned off the lamp and left his room, determined of that she would make the best out of the situation. Despite Ned. She could do it perfectly without him, she could make her own damn pancakes.

And she hoped it was a girl. A little sister for Robb. A daughter for her. Yes, it would be very fine with a girl.

#consequences #my fic #Catelyn Stark #Catelyn Tully #Ned Stark #Robb Stark #this chapter was a lot shorter than the others and I'm sorry #the next one will probably be longer

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midnight-strays · 5 years ago

Note

Hi there! I love BSD! Could I please ask for a senecio where after Dazai leaves the port mafia, their s/o who he left as well is accused for where their loyalties lie by other members and is abused regularly for it and dazai doesn't know until years later where chuuya screams it at him pissed because he sees s/o as a sibling and can't do anything about it because Mori forbids him.

//Warning: Swearing and mild violence

Coughs shook your body as you knelt, hunched over on the ground, the contents of your stomach spilled before you on the pavement. Just moments ago, blow after blow from a few of your male superiors had been dealt to your stomach, from punches to kicks, all of which resulted in you throwing up. This wasn't anything new to you though and sometimes you had to wonder, how your body still managed to react that way despite receiving the same treatment almost daily. Now you sat there all alone, trying to collect yourself, wiping your mouth with a black handkerchief your dear friend had given you. Just another thing you had learned to carry around with you considering this... new lifestyle.

You hated it, you truly hated it, but you couldn't bring yourself to place the blame where it belonged. You couldn't bring yourself to do the healthy thing and just let go before things got any worse. So, you did what you always did. You pushed yourself onto your feet, folded your handkerchief so you wouldn't get puke in your pocket as you put it away and took a deep breath. All in time for the warehouse door to swing open with a loud creak and crash to follow. "Mori doesn't like it when you slam doors you know," you croaked out, lifting your gaze to look at the ginger executive whom had marched into the room.

"I don't exactly care about that right now," Chuuya grunted, cringing at the sight of the vomit on the ground. "They were hitting you again..." You shrugged your shoulders, stepping around the mess on the ground to make your way to the ginger. You could see the anger and pain held in his gaze but knew he wasn't mad at you. He was angry at those who hurt you, angry at Mori who wouldn't put a stop to this, angry at the man who started everything in the first place. And then it hurt him that he couldn't help you. All he could do was be that pillar of support for you, be a shoulder to cry on when things got a little too hard for you to handle.

"You're an executive for Christ's sake. You should be allowed to defend yourself. Fuck- The Boss shouldn't be letting this happen," he growled but never rose his voice. You could only shake your head though, knowing that it was pointless to cry over something that had been going on for years. That right... It wasn't a new lifestyle at all actually. You had been living this way for four exact years next week. "I think you mean ex-executive Chuuya. I'm fine, everything is fine. I just need to brush my teeth and get on with my mission," you assured him in a low tone, moving to step around him as well before he grabbed your bicep, preventing you from making your exit. "Chuuya..." Your voice was low, almost sounding like a warning if he didn't know you better. "I don't want to talk about this right now." You knew he wouldn't listen though. He released your arm, allowing you to walk again, but quickly fell into step with you.

"You can't just continue to live like this. God damnit (Y/N), you need to put your foot down! The moment you finally cut ties with that Mackerel, the better. Take back your rightful place as a Port Mafia executive because there is nothing more I can do for you. The Boss won't change anything unless you prove yourself again," Chuuya ranted, nudging you a little in the direction of his car. Almost an exact replica of the one your beloved had destroyed four years ago. Right as he left the mafia and you behind.

"Prove myself? What the hell do you think I've been trying to do? I go on mission after mission, I'm losing sleep, my own underlings beat the crap out of me whenever I'm around and I don't lash out! What makes you think anything will change? It's all-" You cut yourself off but the man beside you stopped by the car, giving you an intense stare, telling you to continue. "Say it." You shook your head quickly and opened the passenger door, only for him to push it shut again. "Say. It," he repeated, almost glaring now. He wasn't angry at you though. The day Chuuya would ever be angry with you would be the day you blew up his car. Your eyes began to sting and glazed over with tears as you turned away from him and took in a sharp breath. "It's his fault..." You whispered.

"Who's fault?" You've never wanted to hit Chuuya but you were coming close to it right now. "Dazai! It's all Dazai's fault okay?! That asshole promised me he'd never fucking leave and look what he did!" You yelled, wiping at your eyes roughly to prevent your tears from running down your face. As you cried, you barely registered strong arms wrapping around your smaller form, bringing you into the car and then taking you home. Four years. It had taken you four years to admit that it was all his fault. Osamu Dazai left you and the mafia in the dust and now you were paying for it. Yet... You still loved him all the same.

*+*+*+*

Dazai hung by his wrists, singing softly to himself and the empty room as he waited for someone to come keep him company. His intentions were clear in his head, he wouldn't allow anything else to tear him from his goal, learning about the bounty on his man-tiger apprentice. So far, everything had gone according to plan. The Port Mafia had 'captured' him, bringing him exactly where he needed to be without him needing to do anything. Now all that was left was to get to the right room to find the information he was looking for.

But of course, there was something he needed to do first and the subject of that something happened to be coming down the stairs now, looking less than amused. "Chuuya~ Fancy seeing you here~" He hummed, smiling casually at the ginger man who slammed his boot clad foot against the wall by his head. Dazai fell silent but the smile never left his face, only further brothering the mafia executive. "What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed, bringing his foot back down to the ground. He wanted nothing more than to strangle the man on the spot. For turning his back on the mafia, for turning his back on their partnership, for turning his back on you. The one person who he shouldn't have let go of. The one that Chuuya should have gotten to before the damned mackerel. The one that was currently out on a mission hardly worth the time of day.

"What are you talking about? I've obviously been captured. It's not my fault I'm here right now," the brunette claimed with an innocent pout. The gravity controlling man knew the ex-mafia executive far too well to believe him for a moment. There was no way they would be able to catch Dazai off guard so easily. He had been an executive for a reason after all. "Liar. You wanted to come here, now what do you want?" He demanded to know, breaking the chains that held Dazai up within the blink of an eye. "You wouldn't have been brought here so easily if there wasn't something you were after. So, stop playing dumb." He wasn't playing. He wanted to beat on the taller man for his own personal reasons, but he also wanted to drag his face across the ground for you. To perhaps bring an end to your forever aching heart. To make you realise that he was nothing more than a worthless speck on the ground that you could walk all over, that you could forget even existed. At the same time however, he kind of hoped he was here for you. He hoped that Dazai would straight up tell him that he was here to finally take you away from all the pain. He hoped that Dazai could make you happy again, to keep you safe because he couldn't do it himself.

That's why he kicked him into the wall the moment Atsushi's name passed through his lips. "That's why you're here?! For someone you barely know?! What is wrong with you?" Chuuya yelled at him, holding his knife to his throat. "That can't be the only reason you're here. Tell me why you're here!" He tried to coax the real response out of him, or perhaps just the one he wanted to hear. Dazai stared at him with a small frown and grabbed his wrist, a warning not to bring the blade any closer to his throat. "If you're trying to make me say I'm here for (Y/N), I'm not. I'm not here to take her away with me, she can stay here. Where she's comfortable. I'm simply after the information about Atsushi's bounty," he claimed, almost coldly. It made a chill run down Chuuya's spine. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Yes, Chuuya was loyal to the Port Mafia but he was no idiot. Anyone would be far better off without the mafia in their life.

"Where she's comfortable?" He asked lowly, lowering the knife and glaring daggers at him. "What makes you so sure she's okay? That she's even alive?" He asked and for a moment, he saw a faint shift in Dazai's expression. Was that concern he saw in his eyes? It better have been. "You know what? You know nothing. You want to know what pain you've caused her by abandoning her? She cried for days once she realised you had left for good. She stopped eating, stopped sleeping... She took the blame for you leaving. Everyone is blaming her! Four fucking years of beatings all because of you. Not a day goes by where I'm not picking her up off the ground because she's paying for your fuck up!"

Dazai felt a pang of pain in his chest and his face dropped. They were doing what to you? No... No, him leaving was supposed to mean you would be safer... He couldn't be the one to have caused you this much pain. "Why-" Dazai started but was quickly interrupted by the angry ginger who was practically seething, swinging at him aggressively. "You've ruined her Dazai! She could have been happy! She could be happy now, doing something worth her time, be with someone who wouldn't just up and leave because he felt like it. But no. She just had to choose you, didn't she?! She had to choose the one person who couldn't keep a simple promise."

"Chuuya..." So caught up in each other, neither man noticed the sound of light footsteps coming down the stairs, nor the bruised, feminine figure now standing at the doorway until her voice travelled into the room. The man called upon turned his head, eyes widening a little at the sight of the girl they had been 'discussing'. Your (E/C) eyes looked across at Dazai, chest squeezing as pain travelled straight to your heart. 'Dazai', danced on your tongue but not a sound was made. You just stared at him helplessly and for a moment, he stared back, unsure of what he should do. "(Y/N)... It's good to see you. Wish it was under better circumstances," he tried to be casual, but he knew he had broken your heart. Shattered the one thing you had given him from the beginning. She frowned at him and looked back to Chuuya. "Chuuya, the boss would like to see you... Dazai, get what you need and leave. You shouldn't be here. We all know that," you claimed coldly, watching as your dear friend walked over to you, ready to leave the room with you.

"(Y/N), wait-" Dazai tried but you silenced him by raising a hand. He felt his heart crack at the silent rejection as Chuuya placed a hand on your shoulder, a silent gesture of comfort. "Get out of here Dazai," you repeated yourself. And with that, you turned on your heel, walking back up the stairs with Chuuya, leaving Dazai in the dust, heart slowly beginning to shatter as he started to realise just how badly he had fucked up.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #osamu dazai #chuuya nakahara #x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #port mafia

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lostinthewiind · 5 years ago

Text

Words Are For the Weak

Denver “Bull” Randleman - Band of Brothers

WARNING(S): ***SEXY TIME***

TAG LIST: @gottapenny @warmommy @scissorsfordoc @wexhappyxfew @curraheev @mayhem24-7forever @one-who-hunts-eagles @bandofmarvels @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @wildwilliamguarnere @higgles123 @those-dusty-jump-wings @medievalfangirl @maiden-of-gondor @whoabrekker @thefricklefracklesin @junojelli @bandofgays @itisjustmethistime @whatwouldidowithoutgeorgeluz @dumpofdumblings

“One foot in front of the other. Ignore the pain. Just keep running.”

That was what you told yourself over and over again as you sprinted through the town of Nuenen, desperately trying to escape the German soldiers that had seemingly popped out of nowhere, outnumbering Easy Company five to one easily.

At that point, you didn’t care about the mission at all anymore, and by the looks of things, neither did anyone else. Everywhere you looked, the men in your platoon were retreating along with you, dodging bullets and tank blasts left and right. All anyone was concerned about was making it out alive.

The piece of shrapnel that had lodged itself in your right calf shot pain up your entire leg with every step you took, but you couldn’t let it slow you down. The Nazis were literally breathing down your neck and you were afraid that if you stopped for even a second you would end up just another corpse; just another casualty of war.

Leaping over a small stone wall, you kept moving, eyes peeled for an escape route. That was when you saw it. Down in the ditch on the side of the road, Bull was crawling through the grass, a rouge, flaming tank seconds away from running him over. Every time the large man tried to stand up, a sniper from somewhere would take a shot at him. He was trapped between a rock and a hard place.

“Damnit.” you cursed as you swung your rifle over your shoulder and made a B-line for the man.

Hopping to the other side of the narrow ditch, you knelt down, using the rolling tank for cover, and held your hand out. “Bull!” you called down to him, just then noticing the blood spilling from his shoulder where something had obviously hit him. “Come on!” you yelled over the general noise of war.

Bull reached out, but just before he could grab your hand, a bullet pierced your thigh and you collapsed down onto one knee. “Fuck!” you screamed in pain before you outstretched your hand once more, determined to not let your sudden burst of bravery be for nothing.

When Bull finally grabbed your hand, it took every bit of strength you had left to help heave him out of the ditch. Just as the two of you fell back into the grass, the tank collided with a wooden post and knocked the entire thing over. The flames quickly spread from the tank to the post, the heat singeing your hair a little before you backed up even further.

A soft exhale of relief left you, but the two of you were far from being out of the woods. By then, there wasn’t a single remaining American in sight. The town had been completely overrun by the Germans, leaving you and Bull no other choice but to hide.

Locating a rather large drainage pipe that ran underneath one of the roads, Bull directing you inside first before following suit. While the Germans milled about above, the two of you sat there in silence, waiting for the coast to be clear. Your right leg was in immense pain from both the shrapnel in your calf and the bullet wound in your leg. The only silver lining you could find was that the bullet hadn’t hit your main artery, because if it had, you would have already bled out and died.

After hours of sitting side by side, tending to each other’s wounds, Bull finally turned to you and spoke. “Thanks,” he whispered.

“Thank me once we actually get out of here,” you grunted as you tightened the tourniquet around your upper thigh. “God, do they ever sleep?” you referred to the fact that you could still hear footsteps above you on the gravel road.

“Things should quiet down soon enough,” Bull assured you.

You just huffed. “I sure hope so.”

Sure enough, about thirty minutes later, all signs of patrols still roaming about disappeared; all that could be heard was the wind and the distant sounds of the Germans partying away in one of the buildings.

“Okay, this is it.” Bull started scooting back toward the entrance. “If we’re makin’ a run for it, it’s now or never. You ready?”

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” you followed the man, and once he signalled that the coast was clear, the two of you took off into the night. However, after only about two or three steps, your injured leg gave out. You pushed yourself back up again, but another step later you were back on the ground.

Bull noticed how much you were struggling and quickly doubled back you help you. With the sound of a door opening somewhere, Bull didn’t take any chances and quickly scooped you into his arms, a look of pain spreading to his face at the strain holding you was putting on his shoulder.

Thinking quick, the large man from Arkansas carried you into a nearby barn and set you down among the hay in one of the empty stalls. “Looks like we’re hiding out here until morning,” he said. “You’re not gettin’ very far on that leg and there’s no way I can carry you more than a few feet with my shoulder.”

“So, we’re fucked,” you concluded.

“You could say that, yes.”

“Shit.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Leaning back against the wooden wall of the barn stall, you tipped your head back and drew in a long breath. Bull did the same soon after, the both of you beyond exhausted an in massive amounts of pain; neither of which either one of you was eager to display.

Glancing down at your leg, you felt your heart drop when you saw just how much fresh blood was soaking your uniform, turning the brown material a dark, deep red. Reaching down, you dug your hands into the hole the bullet had made in the fabric and tore it open wide to get a better look. “I don’t think it went all the way through.” you felt the back of your leg and didn’t notice any wounds. “Which means the bullet is still in there somewhere.”

“You want me to dig it out?” Bull offered.

“Not with those huge fingers.” you tried to lighten the mood best you could before returning to the task at hand. “Yeah, ugh, just let me see if I have anything in my med-kit.”

Pulling out the small container, you dumped out the products into the hay before picking up a small pair of forceps. Usually, only the medics carried a pair around, but when you located one while looting a body on D-day you decided to keep it, and never had you been more happy about that decision.

“Here.” you handed the forceps over before pulling out your flashlight, turning it on, and placing it in your mouth. With the light shining down on your leg you used your free hands to hold the fabric of your pants out of the way. “Okay, I’m really going to try not to move or make any noise, but this is probably gonna hurt. Just, whatever you do, don’t stop until that bullet is out, okay?”

Bull nodded. “Okay.”

Then, without warning, Bull placed one large hand on your thigh, spreading the wound apart with his fingers, before he went in with the forceps. As soon as the cold metal of the medical instrument touched the wound you threw your head back and bit down hard on the metal flashlight, almost to the point of breaking your teeth.

“Well, shit Darlin’, this ain’t gonna work.” Bull pulled the flashlight out of your mouth and put it in his own. “You just focus on keepin’ quiet,” he mumbled around the flashlight before going back to work.

The pain was agonizing and you were biting down on your tongue so hard to keep from screaming that you had eventually drawn blood. As he worked, Bull kept muttering calming things to you. “Almost there,” he assured you. “You’re a Paratrooper. You jump out of planes. You can do this.”

After a few more minutes, though, the agony was just too much. “No, no, forget what I said.” you tried to push Bull away. “It hurts too much. Stop, please, stop.”

“I’m almost there.” Bull continued to hold your leg still. “Just a few seconds more.”

“No, I need a break.” red and black dots began to fill your vision. “Stop! Bull, I’m telling you to stop!”

“Just a few more-”

“No!” you demanded. “I got this damn thing because of you and I’m not about to sit here while you dig around in it haphazardly and make it worse!”

Bull still didn’t budge though. “That’s the pain talkin’.”

“No, it’s me talking.” you seethed. “You don’t know what you’re doing and if you don’t stop right fucking now I swear to God I will start screaming.”

Moving his hand from your chest to your mouth, Bull muffled any possible screams as he dug a little further. You were just about to bite down on his hand as hard as you could to make him stop when he finally fished the bullet out and held it up to you triumphantly.

“Told you I just needed a few more seconds.” he kept his hand clamped hard over your mouth. “You okay?”

Covered in sweat and feeling light-headed, you nodded lazily, your head hanging low in the process as you inhaled sharply.

Throwing himself back into a sitting position beside you, Bull discarded the forceps and bullet into the hay and sighed. “You made that much harder than it needed to be, woman.”

“Let me dig around in your leg for the better part of ten minutes and we’ll see who makes it harder than it needs to be then.” you snapped.

“It was not ten minutes.”

“Sure fucking felt like it.” you wiped the sweat from your brow. “But...you know...thanks.”

“Thank me once we actually get out of here.”

“Sure.” you agreed.

Just then, a soft pair of footsteps could be heard passing the barn. Instinctively, Bull threw his hand back over your mouth as the two of you waited for whoever it was to leave.

“I swear if you put your hand over my mouth one more time...” you muttered over his palm before actually biting down that time.

“Shit, woman.” Bull ripped his hand away. “What the hell was that for?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” you retorted.

Bull rolled his eyes. “The way you were moanin’ and groanin’ before. You’re loud and I’m not willing to risk it.”

“I am not that loud.” you denied. “Besides, you were digging a bullet out of my leg. I think I’m allowed a little bit of leeway, okay?”

“Okay.” Bull chortled. “But yeah, you’re loud. Think the whole company can’t hear you through the walls when you’re doing ‘extra credit’ for Lieutenant Nixon?”

Your mouth fell open from shock. “That’s a low blow.” you scoffed. “I should have left you in that ditch.”

“I don’t hear you denying it.”

“What? Jealous?”

“Shit, you and I both know I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t.” Bull lifted one knee to his chest and lazily draped his arm over it. “It’s been over two years. We’re all jealous.”

You were a little taken aback by the willing admission, but you were prepared to roll with the punches. “A woman has needs and Captain Nixon just happens to be willing to cough up the goods, so to speak.” you dug a bandage out of your pack and began to wrap it around your leg, ignoring the significantly less serious calf wound altogether. “I don’t see him anywhere around here now, though.”

With that, you presented the bait out in the open. Whether Bull was willing to take it or not, well, that was up to him.

Luckily for you, he was.

Peering up at you ever so slightly, only a fraction of his face visible in the scarce lighting, Bull smirked at you. You instantly caught a glimpse of the suggestion in his eyes and got excited. Oh, this was going to be fun.

As Bull moved over to you, you laid back in the hay and welcomed the large man to hover over the top of you, the anticipation thick in the air. “Ground rules.” you started. “Watch the wounds, no dirty talk, and don’t, y’know...” you gestured to his massive size compared to you,”...don’t break me.”

“Got it.” Bull agreed. “As long as you can be quiet.” he dipped his head down and began to kiss and nip at your neck.

In seconds you were unzipping both yours and Bull’s jackets, eager to get rid of the useless layer. As the layers slowly but surely shed away, the both of you attacking as much of each other’s skin with your mouths as possible, Bull had his core pressed into yours, his slow and consistent grinding action beginning to drive you wild.

You refused to make any noise though. So, instead, you opted to just take what you wanted instead of asking for it. Placing your hands firmly onto Bull’s chest, you pushed him back and into the hay before climbing on top of him.

Bull’s eyes glinted with arousal as he watched you take over, more than happy to let you take charge for a little while. Placing all your weight on your legs was definitely a little more than uncomfortable due to the injuries but you were too sexually charged to really care at the moment.

After sliding out of your own pants a little less than gracefully, you reached for the zipper on Bull’s pants and made quick work of it. As you reached your hand into Bull’s boxers and wrapped your hand around the large member inside, the man before you let out a sharp gasp. Looking up at Bull, you kept eye contact as you pulled his cock out and ran your tongue up the entire length.

Bull immediately pulled your hair out of the ponytail it had been in and tangled his hands in it, gripping on for dear life as you began to take him into your mouth.

It only took a few minutes of licking and sucking to have Bull as nothing more than putty in your hands. “Oh, fuck.” he moaned lowly. “Shit.”

“Now who’s the loud one, huh?” you mocked.

“Oh, two can play at that game.” the man half warned half promised before pulling you up to him and capturing your lips with his. The taste of himself on your lips was thrilling, and as he distracted you with his tongue in your mouth, the lined himself with your entrance and then, without warning, pushed inside of you.

The motion was at a moderate pace, but he didn’t stop to let you adjust until he was all the way inside of you, and Bull’s size was definitely matched up with the size of the rest of him.

Your eyes screwed shut and your body froze all at once, every inch of your body instantly overstimulated by how he felt inside of you. You continued to fight the urge to make a single noise, but this time it was much harder.

“Don’t go soft of me now.” Bull coaxed you on. “You’re a Paratrooper. You jump out of airplanes. You can do this.”

“I’m not complaining.” you melted into his touch as he slid his hands up and down your sides.

“Good.” he slowly began to move inside of you again, and inch by inch, you got used to him.

Once you were more comfortable, you pushed yourself up, your hands on Bull’s chest to stabilize yourself, and began to ride him. Bull’s hands were gripping your hips tightly, helping you bounce up and down on him.

The pleasure was unlike anything you had ever felt before and right then you decided that Lewis Nixon had been demoted and Bull Randleman had been promoted. No longer would you settle for sub-par dick when euphoria personified was sleeping right down the hall.

As the two of you began to near your climaxes, Bull once again pulled you toward himself, and with his arms wrapped tight around you and his lips on yours, he steadily pushed you both over the edge.

Somehow you had managed to go the entire time without making a single unwarranted sound, besides a little bit of talking, but as your walls tightened and your whole body filled with an ecstasy-laced heat, you moaned. Thankfully, Bull’s mouth was there to muffle your cries.

Seconds later, Bull pulled out of you and let out a few grunts of his own. With chests heaving, the two of you stayed exactly how you were for a little while, too drained to move just yet.

Neither one of you said a single word. You didn’t have to. You were both already thinking the same thing: that was not going to be the last time something like that happened. And in the future, without injuries, it had the promise to be even better

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers fic #sexy time #bull randleman #bull randleman x reader #bull x reader #lostinthewiind #hbowar #reader insert #x reader #reader imagine

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