#I was leaving my building late as hell in full uniform | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kreativewritin444 · 1 year ago

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judas kiss / t.s

part three of dishonest (mini series)

authors note// hi thank you so much for your feedbacks, if i have anything unfinished yall really want another part too please lmk bc i literally have lots of ask/request or even things ive started up & forgot ab or have in my drafts. butt i am going through and finishing out some stuff, i just took a vacation and rlly needed some me time... BUT IM BACK BITCHES!!!

also... holy shit a thousand something followers!!!! thank you guys seeing the endless love and support of my writings has boosted me into starting my own book series ... but thats for another spill. thank you again for following me on my journey of my shitty writings to my development.

i got this tip thing working, i do work full time & go to school so any tips are welcomed and appreciated but either way ty all.

anywhore here is the third part/ im thinking final part as well. let your imagination think of the end... unless too many of yall want more.

tag list: @allie131313 @casa-boiardi

summary: lying about your identity, leads you face to face with the one and only thomas shelby. as chaos unravels much more surfaces as well.

staring in the mirror, feeling the old, yet the familiar feeling of a silk night gown cascading down your body. remembering the time lasted only for a mere few years. years you weren’t happy. the bruises were faded mainly, except the slight pain in your ribs still.

taking small pain killers help.

the day has left you tired leaving the rest of the clothing in the corner of the room. laughing almost as you take in the fact; he really did get you some new clothes. as well as being kind of enough to grab some of your own from your apartment.

which you were notified was absolutely trashed, yet hidden away you found a picture. one of you, your mum and sister. so young... so innocent. the memories of everything was building up.

the gown fit you nicely though, the cloth was soft and comfortable. something you almost forgot what felt like, since being alone on the run . glancing over at the clock noticing it was getting late.

biting your lip softly, things mule over in your head. how thomas was and if maybe, just maybe you two met under a different circumstance. hell even just a re-do of your meetings.

ignoring it as your hair gets tucked behind your ear. deciding to leave this room and not be cooped up.

as you step out, your eyes flicker down the hall. movements halting as your mind comes more clear. he was right there in that room.

the room you’ve seen him enter a mere few times. the light flickers through the crack of the door. it was there. right in front of you.

hand never leaving the door knob, biting your lip in deep thought. happy he got you your clothes from home, as well as a few new items. must’ve gotten help from a lady because there’s no way he chose these alonesome.

shaking these thoughts your feet spring into action. hand beside you now as your focus was on where he was. fist raising to knock on the ajar door. it swings open wider, creaking slightly as thomas sets some papers down.

smoke still in hand as his eyes lift to yours, exhaling the smoke from his lips. he lifts it back up, inhaling again taking in the sight of you. in more different clothing than anything he has seen before. work uniform, one little outfit, and his clothing. you looked good, stunning in a way.

he was as he usually was, expect a bit more exposed.

the anger still present when your wounds become more visible, thankfully more faint now. he’s already sent john to deal with that particular matter, but now he had to deal with some stuff tonight.

“got to look at the stuff, thank you.” giving him a small smiling, trying to make this attempt for a better start forward. needing time to plan future things as your mind hasn’t had a hint of peace.

he nods licking his lips, ashing in the tray.

“can’t have you walking around naked, can we?”

the joke brought a smile small to your lips, as your head thinks about the picture. unaware if he knew it was there or if someone else did the work. his focus is back on the papers making you step in. taking in this private study he enchants himself too; felt like him.

biting your lip softly, the sight of him before you has your mind in another place. he looks like something you saw only moments before. a mirror image of yourself. less battered and bruised on the outside though, yet he was tired. his eyes red, the bottle out in the open. he was more open, more vulnerable.

“y/n?”

you shake your head, a blush crosses your cheeks. “sorry. what ya’ say?”

he holds back his emotion, but his attention is now yours. “i’ve gotta meeting tonight, tomorrow some more to do. until then just stay here, out of harms way for the love of god.”

he stands up and stares at you. your lip ends up between your teeth, feeling a bit nervous. he didn’t sound so serious so fierce, he sounds exhausted. as you were to even fight back, which he noticed.

“if you are up by the time i get home, we should talk.” your eyes narrow at his words, nodding slightly. hands coming up to brush your hair back once more.

“just knock on my door when you get back, thomas.”

with that you open the cracked door wider, rushing out of the room. everything felt too tense too unsettling in there. only when his footsteps become noticeable, you realize he was following you.

heart racing as you reach halfway down the hall, nearing the stairs. for a moment, your eyes flicker to the front door.

the thought crosses your mind. ignoring it as you continue to ‘your’ room desperate that he isn’t actually following. that he would walk himself down those stairs instead.

as you reach the door his presence was there, the defeat leaves you. turning around to face him. his face was inches from yours. something deep in his eyes as he pushes the door open.

“thomas?”

the door closes behind you as he is now only standing in front of you, a heave in his chest almost. “their dead, alright? the men from that night, their gone.”

your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “wh-why are ya’ tellin’ me this?” he comes forward cupping your cheek. the look in his eye is something you’ve seen before. loss.

staying still in his embrace, “i-i don’t want ya’ scared of me... for some fuckin’ reason.”

the confession made your mouth shut completely. “i don’t want ya’ scared at all.” it didn’t feel exactly true but it what was easiest for him to say.

that was until he pulls you onto his lips. hands landing on his chest, mouth moving with his out of instinct. pulling away as you push him back slightly. staring into the eyes of a loss man, knowing this could end terribly.

your chest rises and falls quickly, “i- told ya-”

“tell me to stop then, y/n.” the deep stare between you two leaves something rattling inside of you.

“i-i get your past. i know mines fucked, but i-...” you trail off biting the inside of your cheek for a moment. the internal debate ends with him pushing forward.

lips on his he pulls you close, your hands around his neck as you both fall back on the bed straddling him. his hands push against your back, deepening the kiss. the hold on you wasn’t harsh, just tight possessive like. as if you were to disappear at any moment.

pulling away for air, his lips trail from your cheek to your neck. the giggle escapes your lips involuntarily, and for a moment thomas sighs. not of boredom and displeasure but of relief.

it made your heart swirl because you felt it too. the non-serious feeling of this. even though it wouldn’t last, it felt real for the moment.

his hand slips down from your waist onto your thighs. eyes flickering back up at you. your hands tug at his shirt, him taking the hint to remove it. the bare chest was there and now you could really look at it.

“thomas.”

his hand grips the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss. he flips you over and he holds himself up against you. your back against the bed, other hand trailing between your thighs, you just as desperate for his touch.

he lifts the gown up slowly, teasing you with his touch. his head drops into the crane of your neck, kissing it softly before tugging your panties down softly. a soft gasp escapes you and he whispers something in your ear.

“so fuckin’ beautiful.”

your eyes roll back as he swirls your clit, the sensation incredible. “fuck.”

“taste good too.”

he enters a finger before he slowly moves his body down. his motion was slow and you whine when he leaves you. looking down seeing him between your thighs now, inches from you. his eyes flicker up, the blue prominent.

“impatient ay’?” your hand flies into his hair. trying to ignore the urge to roll your eyes,

“did ya’ forget that already?”

without another word his tongue swirls around you, a soft moan leaves you. he continues but slowly adding a finger. your calves press into his shoulders more, leaving his tongue to move slightly faster.

“oh th-” he slides another finger in making your words cut short, back arching off the bed slightly. giving him access to push your gown up above your breast. his hand comes back down around your thighs, feeling them shake around him.

unable to take it anymore your hand pushes at his head, but he holds it down instead. speeding up as your stomach drops, a moan leaving your throat. liquid coats his fingers and tongue as he stands up completely.

“do ya’ love anyone y/n?” the question caught you off guard. your breathing uneven coming down from your high; his pants drop and your body felt even more turned on.

“never really had a chance to experience love. probably doesn’t exist.” you confess the mere summary as you spread your shaky legs. his grip on them tightens, moving you closer to him.

he stares down at you in a way that you truly didn’t understand. “i like ya’, ms.solomons.” he confesses as he spits down on you. the action so dirty, but the confession so clean.

“just y/n, thomas.” the intent was known and he kisses your knee before moving. the feeling of him entering you slowly, made you grip his arm that held your waist.

“i sometimes-” you stutter out as he rocks against you slowly, fighting to keep your eyes open.

“i sometimes like to believe it could be true.”

he leans forward, the angle deeper than before as he kisses you deeply. his free hand coming to cup your jaw. his hips pick up speed leaving you a moaning mess in his mouth.

he was gentle, taking in what you reacted too. this wasn’t your first time but he felt as if you were innocent in a way. your eyes flicker up to him before you tug your dress over your head.

leaving you both completely exposed, “it’s true.” he confesses pulling away, turning holding you up against him as he lays down. your knees against the bed as he bucks up into him.

“ya’ crazy mr.shelby.” he pushes your hips down even more leading to the familiar feeling arise again. your nails sink in his shoulder, biting your lip clinging to him.

“say’s the one who’s dead.” you try to get a witty remark out but your orgasm spreads, feeling yourself starting to clench.

“yet ya’ look so fucking alive around me.” the wetness spreads down your thighs as he doesn’t let you go. “m-maybe i feel alive- with ya’.” the deep moan leaves you, the feeling of your bare chest touching had you in a whirl.

he’s buried deep in you as you cling to him, almost in tears overstimulated. you beg him. “tho-thomas. i-”

“so fuckin’ good.” his his shake slightly, as he leans back staring into your eyes. “do you trust me?” at how you were feeling you’d trust anything. your eyes flutter but you nod.

he stutters into you as his releases inside you making your eyes widen. pulling back panting as his eyes connect with yours. two different looks.

“wh-what did you do?”

“do ya’ trust me?” the logic in the room was clearly not there because without a second thought you nod again. he kisses you softly, “be mine. stay alive and i promise ya’ everything you could need.”

you pull yourself out of him, wincing at the feeling. your eyes stare into his, as the covers surround you,

“but you don’t love me.”

his eyes drop slightly, “i can see somethin’ in you. i need someone like ya’, think of this as something good.” you feel so exposed staring at him in disgust. “ya’-ya’ just came in me, who knows if i’ll get pregnant! thi-this is not gonna end well. what the fuck were ya’ thinking?”

“what the fuck was i thinkin’? oh my go-”

he sits up, “i’m thinking fuckin’ smart! ya’ know this shit, i am rising y/n, i need a wife and i need someone who can be that wife.” you stare at him and stop for a moment. it cut off your overthinking for a moment.

it wouldn’t be real but it could be. yet either way you could be safe... you could be free of being on the run. you could be alive.

“i need to think on it? i-i can have your answer tonight.” your words tremble slightly as you slip your gown on, facing away from him. “hey.” his hand lands on your shoulder.

your flinch makes him wince, scooting closer to you. covered up with the sheets. “i haven’t asked just anyone this question. this is fuckin’ insane but i-i do like ya’. we can figure this shit out because you know it’s true.”

“you need me just as much as i need you.” you mutter as a small smile appears on your lips, “i need a shower for a fact and nap thomas. you have somewhere to be, should get going.”

his hand leaves yours taking your hint, “i’ll knock on your door tonight. get some rest.”

after he redresses and the door closes behind him, the tears stream down your cheeks. you wanted him but you were so scared and conflicted.

your answer was yes from the moment you realize he was as stubborn as you but you were now a ghost.

you were laid down, the candles still lit allowing thomas to see your image. he walks closer but you were barely asleep. he sits down beside you and sighs heavily.

he doesn’t know you’ve woken up, and his energy was strong. you figured thomas shelby out and for a man to keep you around long enough...

you knew from the beginning you liked this man, but being ‘dead’ has made you believe any. any of that type of thing was impossible. slowly you turn over, facing the man who stares ahead.

“eric is tryin’ to be a political man. if ya’ know alfie, imagine a sickenin’ no good bastard times a billion.... as him.” the words made thomas sit a bit straighter. you felt vulnerable now, half asleep tucked into a new home.

you had to give a answer.

“i’ve looked him up, he isn’t much and from what i’ve heard. alfie really doesn’t give two fucks for him.” the way he settles his sentence lets you know that eric is no threat. to you or himself in any aspect.

“charlie’s mother, i-i won’t ask you to speak of her.” you sit up now, thomas takes in your sleepy appearance. “if i take on that boy as my own. i will love and teach him as my own, but you have to tell me about her so he can know his true mother.”

your eyes swell up slightly. “she won’t be forgotten in your mind ever, i know that. so let me learn, let me be there for you so i don’t go crazy. so i-i can do better...”

the words hit thomas and he only shifts to maintain his composure. you don’t notice since your emotional more so, but he knows he did right choosing you.

“i have a story, everything about how to make you ‘undead’ since your job at it wasn’t the best.” that made your eyes look up at him. “i know ya’ can’t be her, but i do have some’ towards you.”

his hand reaches out to cup your face. “she wanted some of the stuff you did as well...”

the deep stare was all that was needed, you let this moment last. he was gone when he lost her. loosing her was loosing apart of himself. you accepted it because you truly knew love was not meant for you in this lifetime.

slowly breaking the moment, lips almost trembling but your composure well gathered now. “if we do this- ya’ can’t treat or make me out to be some fool of a house wife. i-i’m more than that and i’ll be damned to be one of your puppets.”

moving out of his reach makes you ache for it more yet thomas sees something within you. you were sorta like polly sometimes. strongly determined woman.

“ya’ help me stay together, ya’ help me keep this household together... my family together and whatever ya’ want is yours.” flickering from each eye, he awaits your response and you nod.

“i agree, to be your wife. i agree to hold your secrets, now for i wish to get rid of the jewish ways though... go back to the gypsie ways. please.” your desperation was without notice and he kisses you.

kissing you felt like kissing grace.

setting down the glass of whiskey, your eyes train along the inside courier. everything was simple, everything was different. charles was taken to bed not too long ago, you didn’t see much of him but it made you think.

too take on this responsibility was what you were raised for. yet you ran from it because eric was a vile man... so is thomas. your heart aches though due to the surprising feeling erupting yourself; that you may just like the man ever so slightly.

with your past and his it felt like you both being so fucked up, it could work? sighing heavily and grabbing the glass once more. the liquid slips down your throat as you enjoy the peace of true alone time.

telling his maid, well lady of help to head to sleep since you were up. if charles was to awake you could handle it or if need be. get her up. charles really ponders through your mind, for you would be like a mother.

you could be his mother, yet you would never wanna replace his true mother. what was she even like? what did she view or believe? what the hell did she see in thomas shelby?

he said she was a bit like you, in what fucking way?

you move and see her painting and you looked nothing of her. she looked of class and elegance, some real princess shit. you didn’t compare to that, so what motive was this?

make me alive again, was this his plan? biting your lip you throw back the remaining liquor. rolling your eyes at the empty cup, you head towards the kitchen.

smiling to yourself of the kindness that francis left out the bottle for you. moving forward you almost reach the counter but you were hit over the head. your body hit the ground harshly, the glass breaking surrounds you.

it flashes back to the moments of your mothers death. yet before you could react you were hit again, and the darkness overtook you.

you awoke in a moving vehicle, head pounding your face contorts in displeasure. trying to focus your vision, your eyes land on a priest as well as a few other men.

“hello miss solomons.” the priest smiles wickedly and you stare back unfazed, or atleast as much as you could appear.

“well you see, there’s so many ways this here can go. yet as of right now, you are actually of great use.” his tone menacing and your head was spinning.

you try desperately to maintain eye contact with his. unsatisfied with your response of nothing; he nods as one of his men move forward. the hit makes your head sling to the side. blood literally splattering onto the window beside you.

the taste of blood in your mouth has became a all too familiar feeling. as you let your head hang lowly, you over hear someone mutter. “we are almost there.”

moving your hand to wipe your chin, seeing the back of your hand covebloody finally angers you. not knowing where this was going, you finally look back up. “i think we might just have to use the boy instead.”

your heart drops, distracted now. the boy? of course it had to be...

“what boy?” you finally speak, it slightly muffled due to your severe swollen lip. this gets the mans reaction. “she speaks!”

“what boy?” you question again, feeling a sense of protectiveness all of a sudden. what is going on with you?

“ahh, mr.shelby’s boy. ya’ see we have a deadline, and i do have orders with him. oh i spoke to your cousin mr.solomons... he does seem to have a keen interest of seeing you.”

sitting back you take in everything, the deep wrenching pain in your chest over came you. ”didn’t mention if it meant alive or dead, though. dear.”

tears fill your eyes, as you realize everything. this was all a lie, a pawn, a game.

“yet your price is a wager, does thomas care more for your safety or does your cousin? or i could merely kill you now and just let you be what you so ‘desire’.”

his words let everything truly settle now. you never escaped. you just switched paths.

it almost could make you laugh, until it did. you looked crazy and stupid but you were laughing, hysterically almost. wincing at your lip throbbing, heaving out as your head pounds from the movement. you stare into the mans eyes dazed. he stares back at you in discomfort but looks away.

thomas got his own kid into this shit. he better have this all figured out. dizzy from the amount of hits to the head you’ve taken. you look back over and see the man on your right snatching out two pills. eyes widening slightly as you try to move back.

“what is that? wh-wha-no!” the men hold you down, your kicks and hits defenseless. the pills shoved in your mouth. water forced down your throat whilst your nose was plugged, left you choking on the water. forcing you to swallow.

yet they continue it for a few seconds longer, leaving you to start choking horribly. knowing it was swallowed, you were let go finally. shaking and drenched in water, you wildly swing your fist forward.

pure rage in hitting the man on the right. your leg kicks the other guy, before you hit the priest once. a strong hit leaves you slumped, mind swirling until you were no longer able to stay awake.

a strong jerk makes your eyes flicker open. charles was crying softly, making you ignore your own pain. sitting up you look at the man holding him. out of it but desperate you plea.

“give him to me. please, i-i was a mother, i know how to make him stop.” you lie out of instinct but the man seems irritated and hands charles over with ease. ignoring their looks as we come to a stop.

pressing a soft kiss to his head, you hold him soft rocking him softly. your watch the men get out of the vehicle, it was dark out now and your head hurt so bad.

keeping it together for the sake of charles, you try to stay focused. the priest man comes back and you clutch charles more tightly, charles surprisingly soothes down within your hold.

“come on, lets go.” knowing what happen last time, you slowly move out the car, careful with charles the cold wind hits your skin for your only in a nightgown and light sweater. which was blood stained.

the darkness led you to follow him, but soon a room with light appears. you sat down as instructed, feeling the light make your head hurt worse. you notice the two other guys didn’t follow through and he was now alone.

trying not to move, you let charles sit beside you. oddly enough he gave charles something to eat while you stay silent. he looks up at you with a smile.

“the deal is all taken care of, you will be taken care of soon.”

this sick bastard. he gets up suddenly looking back at me, “stay here.” the tone was threatening and you nod softly. scared of what might happen, you sit quietly listening in hard.

moments pass before you heard the words uttered, “please don’t shoot.” you fly up, feeling dizzy from the quickness, glancing back seeing if charles will be okay.

moving forward grasping the wall beside you, as the spots slowly fade from your vision. following the way he took trying to listen in on where the sounds were coming from.

moving quicker at the noise of grunting and painful sounds, ignoring your own pain. you round the corner, taking in the sight of the priest guy fighting a younger guy.

in the oddest moment you notice a hat, the familiar hat. the cap thomas had, a similar one on the ground. “you know who your fucking messing with?”

he throws the guy against a bench, swinging on him. both hands wrap around his throat in such a swift motion. the look on his face reminded you of what yours probably looked like. without thinking you grab a nearby book.

“i’ll take the fuckin’ life from ya’.” you throw the book, it missing your goal hitting him in the back. “leave him the hell alone!” rushing forward, as he turns around one arm coming out. his elbow hits you harshly making you fly back.

hitting the side of a bench, your ribs aching out from the movement. not even knowing what you hit, you stay on the floor. tears leave your eyes unwillingly from the pain.

flying back the back of your head slams into a bench, rolling over sideways. in a slump, you barely were able to make out what was in front of you. all the damage to your head, you knew in nursing this was severe.

“both of ya’ gypsie bastards” without a second thought, the man slices the priest eye. him stumbling back in pain, as the younger man kept coming and coming at him.

“melanie?” you call out as you swore you heard her voice. snapping out of it at the slam open of doors.

two men emerge from a door, too much in pain to handle that situation. trying to push up, hearing the sound of charles cries. “charles.” you gasp out, completely remembering the boy.

managing to get up shakily, moving forward only to stop momentarily. taking in the sight of the bloody mess of the once alive priest. the image locks you in, before you turn back. your were weak and slow but you reach charles.

collapsing beside him leaning back against a near wall. ignoring everything in the world, for it was too much to bare. how odd you found yourself near something of pure innocence; after the chaos you just endured.

charles babbles as you softly sob, “oh charles.”

“it’s alright.” the mans voice spoke, stopping you momentarily. you went silent uncertain exactly anymore of anything. despite everything though you speak up.

“thank ya’.” your tone hush as if you weren’t bold to speak loud. the man sighs out and you wince.

“but ya’ gotta get th-thomas.” the words slip out weakly, eyes flutter as they gaze upon the boy. not even noticing he came around the corner. blood soaked and shaken up, trying desperate to stay focused.

“i’m michael, i’m tommy’s cousin.”

so simple, which was all that was needed. “y/n solomons.” he helps you up, you lean against the wall as he scoops charles up. “hold onto my arm, there is a car outside.”

managing to get inside, but once settled your body slumps. you try to stay up, but the tiredness takes over.

still out not noticing you arriving at the shop, or that michael already took charles inside to the rest of his family. he notified them of you. ada and polly knew for they were the ones who helped you get your clothing.

thomas spoke of you to arthur once.

michael ends up carrying your lifeless looking form inside. polly rushing out orders, ada making a place for you to lay. you were set down and polly pushes your hair out of the way examining you, but when she touches you.

her heart sank. for no reason apparent it just did.

“someone call thomas.” and the cheerful glee of happiness of charles was apparent but the dark silent loom of your appearance was one of unease.

“mum, sh-she helped save him.” he confessed out to polly, who let out a sigh. “well call the damn doctor as well, for christ sakes.”

your eyes flutter open slowly, “charles?”

polly grasp your hand, “he’s safe dear, your both safe now.”

“n-no my head. i can’t my head.” you groan in agony, and your heart aches. “thomas?”

the room went silent. “tho-thomas?” polly speaks up, “he’s on the way.” yet after those words your eyes roll back. “the doctors on the way!” ada calls out and polly sighs in worry for the girl.

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lacontroller1991 · 3 years ago

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Burnt Skies (Rick Flag x Fem!Reader)

@h-hxgirl

Requested by Anon: Saw this captain boomerang fanfic where he finds she's pregnant while they're on mission, I was wondering if you could maybe do something similar for Rick

Author's Note: He would be so protective of the reader fr fr, also this is gonna be angst angst angst so just beware

Warning: Death, pregnancy, language, blood, major character death, spoilers

“Hey (Y/N), you ready to go?” Rick’s voice echoed through the room before he halted, seeing you on the floor, head in the toilet.

“Yeah, give me a minute,” you replied weakly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and flushing the toilet.

“Are you sure? Are you feeling alright?” He asked, rubbing your back as you looked up at him with a small smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll meet you there,” nodding his head, he walked out the door with guns strapped to his body on his tac vest. Looking at your reflection, you noticed a slight greenish tint to your face. Ignoring the wave of nausea, you made your way out of the base and to the plane. Walking up the ramp, you took a seat next to Rick who looked at you with concern in his brown eyes.

“Baby, maybe you should sit this one out. You aren’t looking too hot,” he whispered in your ear as you brushed the notion off. After all, you did have a really bad gut feeling about this mission.

“I’m here. I’m going,” you stated firmly as he looked you over one more time before shrugging his shoulders, knowing it was of no use to argue with you.

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The plane ride was hell. With the criminals being loud and Harley’s non stop chatter accompanying your periodic bouts of nausea, you were ready to get the hell off of the plane and right into combat.

“Alright guy, get ready to drop,” Rick shouted as the cargo door opened to reveal water beneath you. Once he gave the signal, you jumped into the cool water and began to swim your way to the mainland, waiting for the rest of the team to catch up to you. After everyone, save for the Weasel, had made it to the shore, you glanced over to your boyfriend who was laying next to Harley.

“Hey guys, it’s me. I’m the guy who called you and I brought my friends,” Blackguard shouted into the open, raising his hands while ignoring the shouts coming from the rest of the team and your boyfriend, Waller’s distant cursing ringing in your ear. Next thing you know, there was gunfire in every direction and things went to chaos. You quickly sought shelter behind a rock and shot off a few rounds into the woods, hoping to take down some of the Corto Maltese soldiers. “(Y/N), watch out,” Rick shouted at you as you turned to see what he was talking about, but it was too late before a large piece of debris from one of the trees knocked you out cold.

You woke up to machines attached to your body. Feeling the bile rise in your throat, you tried to get out of the restraints and look for a place to dump the contents of your stomach. Suddenly a pan was placed in front of you and that was all you needed to release the bile. Groaning at the light, you looked around the room and was surprised to see a cleanish room which plenty of nurses occupied.

“Ah good, you’re awake,” a voice commented as a rough hand pulled your head back, forcing you to look up at one of the generals you were tasked to take out.

“What the hell are you doing to me?” You asked, squirming your body against the bed, trying to loosen some of the restraints.

“Mi amore, we are treating you. Seems you have caught a parasite,” he replied before summoning the nurse over to you, carrying a plate of food and some juice, “you’re government must really be struggling if they’re sending pregnant women into the field,” he mentioned as your blood ran cold.

“That’s impossible,” muttering to yourself, your head went fuzzy at the concept of you being pregnant. With Rick’s kid.

“On the contrary, when we brought in your friend and you, we noticed certain things,” motioning down to your stomach only brought awareness to the fact that you were practically naked in a room full of the enemy.

“Let me go,” you pleaded, pulling your arms as much as you could.

“I think not,” he replied before nodding to one of the nurses who moved to turn on a machine and attach it to your head. Screams of agony soon left your lips, blocking out the sudden spurts of gunfire in the halls.

----------

Harley laughed maniacally as she gunned down multiple soldiers, enjoying the way they were dropping to the floor. She needed to get out of there. She needed to find the others. After the last one dropped to the floor, she moved toward the door before hearing a piercing scream echo down the hallway.

“Sounds like someone’s having fun,” she ran her tongue against her teeth before skipping toward the scream. Slamming open the door, she raised the guns in her hand, ready to fire, until she saw you laying on the table surrounded by nurses.

“No one messes with Flag’s girl,” she muttered to herself before unloading the magazine in the room. All of the nurses slinked to the ground, covered in a pool of their own blood. Rushing over to you, Harley unstrapped the restraints and head piece before taking out the IV and looked for your clothes.

“Where the hell are ya clothes?” She asked, searching high and low before she found a bag filled with your bloody uniform. Helping you sit up, she noted the way you looked super frail but practically glowing at the same time.

“Harley,” you whispered out to her before passing out on her shoulder. “Awww, this would be really cute if not for the circumstances,” she stated out loud to herself, peering out of the window and seeing a guy in a helmet run across the street with Flag. Wait a minute, Flag! Running out the door, she ran around the corner before stopping in front of the two men.

“Hiya guys! What’s up?”

“We’re here to save you, is (Y/N) with you?” Rick asked with hope in his voice as Harley nodded, wrapping pale fingers around his wrist and dragging him back inside and through the pile of bodies she had claimed. At the sight of you, Rick ran to your side and hugged your limp body.

“What’s wrong with her?” He asked, fighting the tears that were beginning to surface.

“Don’t worry puddin’, she’s just asleep,” shrugging her shoulders, she left the room as you stirred, fluttering your eyes open.

“Rick?” You questioned as he rapidly nodded his head, placing kisses all along your face.

“Thank God you’re ok. I thought I lost you.”

“Rick, the doctors found something,” memories of the conversation you had moments ago replayed in your brain. You’re pregnant.

“I’m pregnant,” you whispered, mind still not comprehending the fact that you were pregnant. After all, you had been infertile most of your life. Avoiding his gaze, you waited for his response.

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m going to be a dad,” he whispered, causing your head to snap up and see a smile play against his face.

“You want this? I don’t know if it’ll carry to term. You know that I’m infertile.” Placing his lips against yours, he pulled you into his arms, hugging you as close as he could to his body. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kissed back before a throat clearing interrupted you.

“This is sweet and all, but we have a fucking monster to kill,” DuBois stated as you looked up at Rick who smiled.

“Stay here, I’ll come back and get you.”

“I’m not leaving your side,” you replied as he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re pregnant. No way in living hell am I gonna allow you to do this. You’ll stay here and that’s an order,” you and he both hated when he had to pull his rank, but you realized it was necessary in cases like this.

“Just come back to me,” pulling his lips down against yours for what feels like the last time, you encoded this moment into your brain, remembering the way he tasted.

“For you? Always.”

----------

He should’ve known you were going to follow them into Jotunheim. Not only were you stubborn, but you still had that nagging feeling that something was going to happen. Sneaking past the military, you found a window and busted it open with your elbow before entering the building. Landing with a soft thud, you looked around the room and noticed Peacemaker going down a dark tunnel. Running after him, you made sure to stay hidden by the numerous pillars. Peering around the corner, you saw Ratcatcher standing next to Rick, however Peacemaker was pointing a gun at Rick.

“Nobody is saying what they did was right,” Peacemaker stated, hand unwavering.

“They experimented on children!” Rick yelled as more explosions went off in the distance.

“That information gets out and it causes an international incident. Keeping the peace is worth any price, including the life of a hero like yours, sir, so please. Don’t make me do this,” your stomach churned. You knew that Captain America wannabe was no good, and now your love might just pay the price. Suddenly, rocks collapsed all around you, obscuring your view of Rick and Peacemaker.

“No,” you whispered to yourself, picking up rocks and trying to make a hole for you to get your body through. Your efforts became faster the more you heard the two men grunting. After successfully digging a hole big enough for you, you crawled through as you heard something like porcelain shatter and choking.

“You mother fucker,” Rick stated through gritted teeth as you watched in slow motion, Peacemaker’s hand grasping a large shard.

“Rick!” You shouted out before tackling him off Christopher’s body, not getting out of the way soon enough as Peacemaker lodged the porcelain into your lower abdomen. “No!” Rick shouted as Peacemaker threw you off. In the distance somewhere, you heard a gun go off before hands wrapped around your body. “(Y/N)? (Y/N)?” Rick called to you but you couldn’t hear him, your mind venturing off.

----------

The sun lit your face through the blinds, dancing in your eyes and creating a multitude of hues, a warm body pressed against you.

“Morning sweetheart,” voice deep from slumber, Rick rubbed his eyes as he let out a yawn. Stretching in bed before your 5 year old daughter came running into the room.

“Mommy, daddy. It’s Christmas!” She squealed excitedly, waking up the baby that was next door.

“Yeah it is baby, you excited for your presents?” You asked as she rapidly nodded while Rick slid out of the bed.

“I’ll go grab little Digger,” he commented, kissing your forehead and your daughter’s head. Getting up, you went to grab a coffee before the doorbell rang. Moving to open it, you saw Harley’s painted face waiting for you with Nanaue, Cleo, Robert and Abner carrying presents.

“Merry Christmas dollface,” she exclaimed, pulling you in for a hug before running off to see her god daughter.

“Come in guys,” you motioned for them to enter as Rick rounded the corner, your 10 month old in his arms.

“So this is the little guy, huh?” Cleo asked as Sebastian waved a hand at the newborn, earning giggles from the baby.

“Yep, Digger Anthony Flag, meet your family,” Rick lifted up the baby’s arm, making him wave to everyone.

“I’m proud of you guys,” Robert commented, slapping a hand on Rick’s back as everyone shuffled into the living room, Nanaue taking up most of the space.

“Thanks man, it wouldn't have happened without you.”

“Alright, everyone ready for presents?” You asked the room with Harley by your side, Harleen in her arms. Rick placed Digger in Cleo’s arms before walking up to you and bringing you into his side.

“I love you, Mrs. Flag.”

“And I you, Mr. Flag.”

----------

Groaning, you felt an excruciating pain in your abdomen and a feeling of loss?

“(Y/N), baby, you’re awake,” his tired voice resonated in your ear as he leaned down to kiss your forehead, his hand not leaving yours.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” you commented as he sniffled, trying to suppress the tears that threatened to escape.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he noted, petting your hair and placing another kiss on your forehead.

“And leave our kid without a father? I don’t think...”, realization dawned on you at that moment. The sudden feeling of loss and the pain in that general area washed over you as you began crying. “Oh God, the baby is gone, isn’t it?” You asked through tears as he let a couple slip down his face, nodding and trying to smile through the pain. Choking back a sob, you turned your face away from him as tears continued to fall.

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered, squeezing your hand. Shaking your head, you refused to meet his hazel eyes, “(Y/N), look at me.” Turning your head, your eyes locked onto his as he continued to smooth down your hair.

“We’re alive. We’re both alive. That’s all that matters,” he replied, crawling into the hospital bed with you and pulling you against his chest as you cried into his shirt.

“What if I never get pregnant again?”

“We will. I’ll make sure of it. I’m done with the fucking task force. Waller can find someone else to puppet. But I’m done. You’re done. We’re gonna get married and have a nice house. I’ll get a new job and we’ll figure it out. I promise.” Kissing the top of your head, he wrapped his arms around you as you calmed down.

“I love you,” you whispered against his chest as he hugged you closer.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Author’s Note: Well this was way longer than I intended it to be. But hope you enjoy!!

482 notes · View notes

solemnly-mischievous · 3 years ago

Text

rivalry (d.m. x reader)

You and Draco Malfoy have a rocky relationship, at best. It'd be better to describe it as a rivalry. But all it takes is a bit of fire from your end to finally make him snap.

(AKA: I just really wanted to write an enemies-to-lovers trope for my first fic.)

A/N: Hi! First fic. Hope you like it. :)

Contains: Degradation, slight edging, d/s elements, slight dub-con (but not really; full consent is clearly given), light humiliation

Word count: 3.9K

-----

Normally, Defense Against the Dark Arts would be your favorite class. The spells you learn are fun and useful; Professor Lupin is always a plus, and most importantly, you’re good at the subject—so bloody good, you’ve bested even Hermione and Harry multiple times.

But lately, you’ve been finding yourself dreading the lessons. So much, in fact, that you were half-considering asking Hermione to hex you just to get out of your afternoon class.

Why? It’s a pretty easy answer when you got down to it.

Draco Malfoy.

You’d had an ongoing rivalry with the git since third grade. He’s been terrorizing you and your friends, mostly because of Harry, but along the way the two of you had begun building a personal vendetta.

(He probably hasn’t quite yet forgiven you for hexing him so badly he’d had to stay in the Infirmary for weeks, and you certainly haven’t forgiven him for causing your friends so much grief over the years.)

This year, you’d thought you could try your best to avoid him, with your upcoming N.E.W.T.s and all. But DADA had other plans.

Professor Lupin had begun experimenting with mixing up partners for class—it was, after all, a very hands-on class—and had apparently decided that cross-house interaction would build bonds and skill. His exact words were, “If they’re your friend, you’re gonna go easier on them. In the real world, you never know who you’re fighting with—or against.”

So he’d randomized the name list. You, being Gryffindor, knew immediately you wouldn’t be with any of your closest friends—but you hoped that perhaps you’d be paired with Cedric, or Luna, or anyone but—

“Your partner is Draco Malfoy,” Professor Lupin informed you when he got to your name, and you immediately make to protest.

“Her?” a voice came just as you complained “Not him”, and the students parted to reveal Draco himself, glaring daggers at you and Lupin.

“Yes, her,” Lupin replied, unruffled. “Now, pair up, everyone. We’re practicing Stunning today.”

That day, you’d fucking limped out of the classroom. Not to say Draco had gotten it easier—he could barely stand after you Disarmed, Stunned, and hit him with a nasty stinger hex just for the sake of it. (You’d gotten detention, but it was worth it.)

Today’s your second class with Malfoy, and you’ve never wanted more to be able to commit violent actions in your life.

“Please,” you whisper to Hermione as your group enter the DADA classroom. “Just one hex. I won’t even go to Pomfrey. No witnesses. You could just Petrify me, if that’s more to your liking.”

She sighs. “I’m not going to Petrify you.”

“’Mione,” you say, scandalized. “I thought we were friends.”

“Pair up, everyone,” Lupin calls out. Your friends shuffle away and you close your eyes, already getting a headache from the thought of—

“Well, well.” That fucking smarmy voice. “If it isn’t Potter’s little friend.”

“If it isn’t Daddy’s boy,” you snap, opening your eyes and glaring at Malfoy, who already has his wand out. “Bugger off, Malfoy.”

“Afraid I can’t do that.” Draco’s eyes narrow. Clearly, he’s as displeased with the situation as you are. “What are we doing today, then? Can’t wait to knock you down a few notches. Star of the class, my—”

“Patronuses!” Professor Lupin announces from across the room, and your heart soars—Patronuses, you could do that. Harry, months earlier, had taught you how to perfect a corporeal form in exchange for tips on his Astronomy essay. He isn’t here today—maybe you could be the only one in the class to do it.

Lupin continues, “Yes, the Patronus—an essential in the world of Defense magic. We’ll be starting with just the simple basics of it. A strong flick of the wand, and the words ‘Expecto Patronum!’. Say it with me, everyone.”

You chorus the words obediently along with the class, Malfoy’s snort of derision not going unnoticed.

“Good. Good, good, now—the key to the Patronus is to think of a happy memory. It has to be strong. Remember, Dementors feed on misery—it’s the only way to keep them away. Now, go practice. I’ll be walking around to see if there’s any problems.”

“Expecto Patronom,” Malfoy repeats in a mocking voice once the classroom starts filling with the chants of fellow students. “Doesn’t Potter know how to do that one? Heard he can do a deer. Pretty weak animal if you ask me—”

“A stag,” you correct. “And it’s Patronum, not Patronom.”

He glares at you again. “Think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

“Certainly smarter than you are.” You glance at him. “Though that’s not saying much, is it?”

You give Fred Weasley, who’d circled around to hear the conversation, a not-discreet fist-bump.

“Alright then.” Malfoy spits out your last name, trying to provoke you. “Let’s see you do it.”

“You try,” you suggest, hiding your smirk. “Unless you’re too scared.”

Draco grits his teeth. Unwilling to back down from a challenge, he brandishes his wand. “Expecto Patronum!”

A thin, wispy light appears at the end of his wand—weak, but clearly visible. Classmates around you murmur as they notice it, and Professor Lupin beams as he sees Draco’s doing. “Very good, Draco! A fantastic start.”

Draco flicks his wand smugly and the Patronus charm dissipates. He smirks, shooting you an expectant look.

You take out your wand, feeling its familiar grip, and you close your eyes. You recall the memory of a weekend in Hogsmeade with your friends, drinking Butterbeer as you stroll through the snowy village, pointing out the shops and people. Unconsciously, you smile.

“Expecto Patronum!”

Light blazes so bright you can see it under closed eyes, and you open them to find a glowing golden retriever prancing out the end of your wand. It bounds around in the air joyfully, leaving a trail of light where it leaps, and circles the classroom, eventually coming back to you and wagging its tail.

Professor Lupin is grinning, utterly delighted as he takes in your Patronus. Calling your name, he exclaims, “That is phenomenal—you’ve learned fast. Very impressive job!”

You smile back, and your Patronus glows lighter in response. You quickly call it off, the light being a bit too much, and the rest of the class passes by in a haze of awed murmurs and classmates asking your advice on their spellwork. You become so preoccupied, you don’t even notice Draco’s unrelenting stare on your back.

The class ends fast, the bell tolling to signify the start of what would be a study period for you. As students trail out of the classroom, chattering happily, Professor Lupin calls you over.

“Listen, I want you to know that what you did today was truly impressive,” he says, seriously. “I assume Harry laid out the groundwork, yes?”

You nod. He smiles. “You and Harry both are very accomplished students, then. But truly—I doubt many Aurors could’ve managed what you did today.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Your words are sincere.

“My pleasure.” Professor Lupin shoots you an apologetic look. “Now, I’m terribly sorry, but I have off-grounds business to attend to—would you mind setting the classroom to rights? I’m afraid I had to push the desks and chairs back for our class, but I don’t have time to put them back. I’ll write you a note, if you—”

“Oh, no, Professor, don’t worry, it’s a study period. I’d be glad to help.”

“Thank you,” he says, relieved, already heading out the door. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I’ll bring chocolate to compensate!”

“Goodbye, Professor!” you call, and he echoes it, and then he’s gone. You look around the classroom, seeing all the desks in the back, and you crack your knuckles. Time to get to work.

“Well. Quite the teacher’s pet, aren’t we?”

Merlin’s fucking beard.

“Bloody hell, Malfoy,” you mutter, turning around to find him leaning against the classroom doorframe. His blond hair glints silver in the sunlight, and his entire outline—his uniform, his stance, his dark gaze—is just… honestly, unfairly attractive.

So maybe your first impression of Draco Malfoy, years ago, wasn’t that he was a self-entitled git. Maybe, just maybe, you’d thought he was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen.

And maybe that feeling never went away.

Not that you’d let him know that.

“What are you doing here?”

“Study period.” He starts walking towards you, shutting the door behind him. “Couldn’t help but be curious as to what Lupin wanted with you.”

“What’s it to you?” you snap. Malfoy doesn’t reply.

“Why do you insist on being so difficult?” he asks instead, and you blink.

“Me?” you splutter. “Difficult? Fat lot of sense that makes, with you fucking insulting me at every move I make—”

“As I recall, our first interaction was you hexing me in third-year.” Malfoy sounds amused.

“You pushed Harry into the lake,” you snap at him. “You bloody well deserved it.”

Draco laughs. “Good times.”

“Malfoy, what the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“You’ve got quite a mouth.”

“My mouth is also capable of jinxing you three ways to Friday, so I suggest you leave me alone, yeah?” Your fingers twitch towards your wand in preparation, and he only looks on with derision.

“I’m just frightened,” Malfoy sneers. You barely notice him slipping off his rings, pocketing them. “Potter taught you that Patronus charm, didn’t he?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothin’. Just wondering what else he taught you.” A vengeful mood seems to have taken Draco. “You seem to hang out with him an awful lot.”

“It’s called having friends,” you snap right back. He looks as though he’s about to retort, but you push on. “Unfamiliar with the concept? Wouldn’t be surprised. Crabbe and Goyle don’t seem like the best conversationalists, are they? Just a couple of goons. Wonder why you don’t have better friends. Friends you can actually talk to who operate with more than one braincell.”

“Shut—”

“Maybe it’s because no one wants to be near you,” you continue, years of pent up frustration spilling out in a vitriolic spiel. “Because you’re a miserable bastard who doesn’t know how to be happy, aren’t you? You drive everyone away and then you go after more because you’re lonely and sad and fucking pathetic—”

“Shut up,” Malfoy repeats with a vehemence.

“—and it’s too fucking late to repair the damage you’ve done—”

“Shut up,” Malfoy snarls, and you stare into his narrowed eyes.

“Fucking make me,” you snap back, and he lunges.

You’re pinned against the wall of the classroom, Malfoy’s wand to your throat and a hand fisting your robes to render you immobile. Draco flicks his wand, ever-so-slightly, and you hear the classroom door lock with a wordless spell.

“Malfoy,” you whisper, but he cuts you off.

“Shut the fuck up or I swear you’ll bloody regret it,” he hisses.

“Draco,” you begin, and he curses.

“Fuck it.”

Gripping your robes, he leans in and kisses you.

It’s rough and demanding and you think he’s trying to hurt you, with how much his teeth scrape against your bottom lip and bite down gently, but you’re not pulling away, he’s not pulling away, and you find yourself leaning into the kiss, arching up to meet him—

He breaks away and looks at you, smirking.

“If I’d known that’s what it would take for you to shut your bloody mouth, I’d have done it years ago.”

“Let me go, Malfoy,” you say shakily, but even as he loosens his grip slightly, you show no sign of moving.

“If you’d wanted to leave you’d have Stunned me long ago,” he states, truthfully. Your wand is fully in reach. You know how to do wordless spells. And yet you let him kiss you.

“Shut up,” you grumble, still not moving.

“I think, perhaps,” Draco murmurs, glancing down at your body, “you’re enjoying this.”

“No,” you argue, and his wand digs into your neck—not enough to hurt but enough to register.

“Shh,” Draco hushes, almost condescendingly. “Be quiet, now. That’s a good girl.”

Involuntarily, you shudder at his words. They made your legs weak, and you fight off the urge to audibly whimper—what the hell’s gotten into you?

Maybe he won’t notice. Maybe he hasn’t noticed.

Of fucking course he notices.

“Oh?” The shit-eating smirk on his face is enough to make you glare absolute daggers at him. “Don’t give me that. You shivered. You liked it.”

“Shut up,” you say again, with no real strength.

“Don’t you want to be my good girl, sweetheart?” he teases cruelly, and you have to close your eyes to fight off the blush. It doesn’t work, and your face grows hot with embarrassment and arousal.

“Dear me,” Draco says mockingly. “What happened to the spitfire from minutes ago, hm? Still feeling like saying those words to me? Still feeling like being bad?”

Inadvertently, you shake your head.

“Who’s pathetic now?” he mocks, grinning, letting his wand trail a cold path down your neck, over your collarbone, until it rests on the top button of your uniform. “May I?”

The question sounds mocking, but he meets your gaze and you know he’s honestly asking for permission. And you give it to him, nodding, even as your blush deepens. Draco undoes your buttons, one by one, with tiny flicks of his wand, until your shirt is fully unbuttoned and you’re exposed to his gaze.

Draco shoves his wand into his belt and pushes your bra out of the way with an almost laughable urgency, getting a full, appreciative look at your breasts. “So fucking pretty,” he murmurs. “Shame they belong to such a fucking headache, hm?”

You grumble some sort of an insult, and Draco pinches a nipple, which shuts you up effectively. “That’s what I thought.”

His hands trail down to your skirt, and instead of undoing the button he leans down and scoops the fabric up. “Here, be good and useful and hold this for me.”

The indifferent praise and the degradation combined has you obeying immediately, hoisting your skirt up and baring yourself to him, which only adds to an eddying swirl of shame and arousal pooling in your gut. Draco looks at you, stares, really, and it’s with a predatory grin that he reaches over to caress you through your panties.

“Soaked,” he observes, sounding both amused and satisfied. “You always get off this much to being treated like a right slut, then?”

“Draco,” you whine, bucking your hips up into his almost phantom touch. “Come on.”

“Is that how we ask nicely?” Oh, this bloody git. You’ll never be able to look at him again—he’s going to be so fucking smug around you.

When you don’t answer, he withdraws his touch completely, and you make a sound of protest. “No, no, please.”

“Go on.”

“Please touch me,” you try, but it’s hard to focus when you’re so goddamn wet you’re soaking through your panties.

“Not quite,” Draco muses. He’s palming himself through his trousers, and the sight turns you on impossibly more. “Come on, then—convince me.”

“Draco, please touch me,” you beg. One of your hands drift down to your panties but he slaps it away immediately, shooting you a warning look. “Please!”

“Touch you where?” He wants you to say it.

“Touch my cunt, please, Draco, fuck, I’m so wet it hurts,” you beg, and it’s true—you’re aching with arousal, and if he doesn’t touch you within the next few seconds you think you really just might combust. “Please, please touch me, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want, just touch me.”

“If only the school could see you now,” he sneers, but even he seems to break his self-control and he tugs your panties down harshly, all but ripping them off. “Baring yourself to me and begging to be touched like a whore.”

“I’m not—oh,” you gasp, his fingers pressing into your cunt immediately and his thumb working on your clit, sending waves of pleasure so potent you almost double over. His fingers are long and thin, which is why he can press two in without preamble, and the stretch is barely noticeable.

“You’re not what? A whore?” Draco laughs. “Please. Look at yourself.”

“’m not,” you insist, but you clench around his fingers at his words and he raises an eyebrow.

“I think you’re lying.” He presses a third finger in and you whine, little sounds of pleasure escaping your lips as he works you open. “Quieter, now, or I’ll have to gag you.”

You bite your lip, and Draco thumbs your clit as a reward and incentive. “Now, tell me what you are. Be truthful, or I won’t fuck you. I’ll leave, leave you here with your shirt hanging open and your skirt up, the doors wide open. Maybe the next bloke who stumbles in might help you.”

Your eyes widen—he wouldn’t. But his gaze is dead serious. “Say it.”

“I’m a whore,” you breathe, and he thrusts his fingers into you, hitting that right spot. “Draco!”

“Say it louder,” he orders, angling his fingers and curling them.

“I’m a whore,” you moan out, bucking your hips upwards—you’re close, you’re so close. “Draco, I—”

He stops moving, and his other hand pinches your clit harshly. “No.”

You let out a gasp of shock and hurt, reeling from the denial and pleasure. “But—”

“You’re not fucking coming until I say so,” Draco hisses, undoing his belt and pushing his trousers down. “And I’m not saying so until I properly fuck you into a bloody wreck.”

His cock is already hard, and he positions himself right at your entrance. You can feel him, his tip pressed against your wetness, but not pushing in. “Draco—”

“I think,” he muses, and you want to scream, “one day I’ll drag you into a broom closet. Fuck your throat so hard you won’t be able to talk for the day. You’ll look pretty, don’t you think?”

“Please—”

“Or I’ll bring you back to my dorm, so I can fuck you until you’re screaming yourself hoarse,” Draco says thoughtfully. “Your dorm works. So long as I can ruin you.”

“Malfoy—”

“Because it’s just so—” and he pushes into you in one swift movement, fucking into you immediately with a fast and rough rhythm, “—fucking nice to see you being a slut for me.”

“Fuck!” You grind your hips along with his rhythm, feeling the tightness of your cunt around his cock, and you clench as he hits your sweet spot with the right angle, almost shaking with the pleasure that it gives you.

Draco groans your name, fucking you brutally as he chases his own release, already pent-up from the teasing and the sight of your wrecked state. “’m gonna come on your tits, would you like that? Get it all fucking messy, maybe get some into your mouth, get you fucking ruined?”

“Please, please, fuck, please let me come,” you plead him, feeling your impending orgasm barrel towards you—you couldn’t last, you can’t fucking last—

“Fucking hold it,” Draco snaps. “Hold it like a good fucking girl, you understand?”

You let out a mournful sound, but you nod—yes, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, please—

“Salazar, I’m fucking close,” Malfoy breathes into your ear, his voice rough and strained. “You feel so good, love, so bloody tight.”

“Please,” you whimper, not even sure what you’re pleading for at this point. Draco exhales shakily and curses, pulling out and pushing you to your knees with such a force that you drop down, your skirt being the only padding.

“Wh—?” you try to ask, but Draco is already pumping his cock and then he’s coming all over your face, some of it dripping down to paint your breasts as he’d promised. Draco leans down to gather some release on a finger and pushes it into your mouth, eyes darkening as you suck and swallow around it.

“Good girl,” he praises, and you almost come right there.

“Draco, please,” you beg, still on your knees and still absolutely fucking desperate for release that he’s been denying you for the past half hour. “Please let me—”

“Alright, spread your legs, c’mon,” Draco guides, and you obey and then he’s there, thumb rubbing steady circles around your clit and two fingers pushing inside you once more. You whine and grind into his fingers, his touch, hips following his movement as he pushes you closer—closer—

“Fuck!” you sob as he senses your impending orgasm and stills his hand. “No—no, why?”

You sound like a petulant child and Draco laughs at you, and it’s an unfair move and a mean sound but it somehow turns you on even more. “I’m just messing, sweetheart.”

Fuck you, you badly want to say, but somehow you feel like that won’t get you what you want.

Draco starts moving again, his fingers gaining speed, and the sound of them pumping in and out of your soaked cunt sounds delightfully dirty. You’re quickly pushed to the edge again, and amidst your pleasure you eye Draco distrustfully.

“Please,” you whisper, and he smirks at you.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

And he thumbs your clit and you’re coming, gasping with the pleasure and shaking as he eases you through it. His fingers don’t stop moving, even after your orgasm has faded, and you squirm in discomfort as he overstimulates you.

“Stop—please—”

“Promise me you won’t be a bloody pain again,” Draco levels at you, and you want to glare back but his fingers curl inside of you and you yelp with pleasure and pain. “Promise me, or I’ll keep going.”

“I—I won’t be a pain,” you mumble, trying to squeeze your thighs together to get rid of his touch, but he perseveres, flicking your clit mercilessly.

“Say you’ll be good.”

“I’ll be good,” you manage, so close to sobbing from the frustration. “Please, Draco, I’ll be good, be good for you, please stop.”

He relents and you feel him draw his hand back. You close your eyes and you hear him tug his trousers back on, buckling his belt. You feel strangely empty without him—without his fingers, his cock, his touch.

Draco produces a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the sweat, drool, and cum off your face, helping you button your shirt back up as well. “You alright?”

“Never better,” you reply, opening your eyes to see him staring at you in concern, all traces of the cruel tease earlier gone. Outside, the sun is setting, casting orange hues into the classroom, and you suddenly remember. “I—oh, bloody hell, I have to arrange the desks for Lupin—”

“I’ll do it. Stay here.”

Draco stands up and takes out his wand, flicking it twice in quick succession. A wordless spell. As you watch, the desks and chairs slide back to where they used to be, neatly arranging themselves in rows.

You��re impressed as he comes back. “What spell is—hey!”

He’s flicked his wand once more and torn your panties clean off your legs.

“Draco—what in Merlin—”

“A souvenir.” Malfoy smirks, stuffing your soaked panties into the pocket of his trousers. “And payment for the desks.”

“You’re a bloody prick,” you say, leaning your head back against the wall.

“Careful now, love. Remember what you promised.” Draco’s tone is playful, but warning. “I’m a man of my word, so you should choose yours carefully. Next time I won’t be as gentle.”

Caught off-guard, you can only nod obediently, which seems to please him. But you can’t promise you won’t slip back into old habits the very next day. Whatever the case, one thing was clear—there would almost certainly be a next time.

------

Requests & asks are open! Here is the guide on requests, if you'd like to check that out first. Hope you enjoyed!

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy smut #draco x reader #draco x y/n #harry potter #golden era #hp #draco imagine #draco smut #draco malfoy x reader smut #draco x you #draco oneshot

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earliebirb · 3 years ago

Text

i’ll save you a seat

steve/tony, established relationship, canon divergence, 1673 words

(inspired by this deleted scene from the avengers [2012])

“Waiting on the big guy?”

“Ma’am?” Steve looks up from his sketchbook, eyes squinting against the sunlight.

He meets the gaze of one of the waitresses working at the café. Her long blond hair flows down to her chest and she is dressed in the café’s signature uniform: pastel orange blouse, black skirt, and a white half apron tied around her waist.

“Iron Man,” the waitress clarifies, lips quirked up in a knowing smile. “A lot of people eat here just to see him fly by.”

“Right,” Steve says, lips twitching at their inside joke. He opens his mouth to say something else, but a familiar silhouette in the distance catches his eye and breaks his train of thought. “Uh, actually…”

He nods at the sky. The waitress follows his gaze.

The object grows larger, approaching at a high speed. It morphs into a blur of red and gold that streaks across the blue sky right above them, sending a gust of wind that ruffles the waitress’ blond locks. The figure lands a short distance away from the café with a distinct metallic thunk — the sound of gold-titanium alloy hitting concrete.

All around him, people begin to whisper among themselves with excitement, some even taking out their phones to document the spectacle. Although Steve can’t really say he enjoys the attention, warmth still blooms in his chest as he observes the approaching figure. He finds himself hiding an involuntary grin behind his hand.

“Always a dramatic entrance, huh?” The waitress chuckles.

“You know it.” Steve sighs with fond exasperation. All eyes are on Tony as he walks toward the outdoor area of the café, the nanotech suit peeling away from his body. The excited murmurs and whispers increase in volume.

When Tony finally arrives at the table, he bends down to plant a kiss on Steve’s cheek. “Good morning, beloved.”

“Mr. Stark-Rogers,” the kind waitress greets with a smile. “The usual?”

“Please, Beth. I told you to call me Tony.” Tony reaches up to slide his sunglasses a few inches down the bridge of his nose, giving her a disapproving look that makes her chuckle. “And yes, please. Thank you.”

“Table’s yours as long as you like,” she says before disappearing into the indoor part of the café to relay the order. Steve knows she means it, too. She’ll make sure of it, just like she always has for the past few years.

The café had been Steve’s favorite café, at first. He visited the place often, especially during his first few weeks in the twenty-first century. He developed a fondness for their sesame seed bagels and the lovely view of Stark Tower from his favorite outdoor table, although the latter is a fact Steve would never admit to Tony even on pain of death.

However, the café quickly became Steve and Tony’s favorite café when their reluctant camaraderie bloomed into friendship all those years ago. Even before they started dating, Steve and Tony already established a weekly ritual of having brunch at the café whenever their schedules aligned.

Tony did eventually admit to Steve that he found the café’s coffee to be subpar. He did, however, insist that the café was his favorite, albeit for reasons different from Steve’s. Not for the bagels, not for the exceptional view of Stark Tower, and definitely not for the coffee, but because the café was a place full of memories. His memories of the two of them, his memories of Steve:

“That café was where I first made you laugh. Like, really laugh. I’d seen you smile or chuckle before, but that kind of full-body laughter? That was a first. And I remember thinking that… I really, really liked the way you laughed.”

It has been seven years since Steve first sat at this very table and sketched the figure of Stark Tower looming before him. Beth is still working at the café, having made her way through the ranks. Now a co-owner of the café, she has developed a friendship of sorts with Steve and Tony — both of whom she claims to be her favorite regulars. Tony likes to joke about how she probably says that to all of her regulars, something Beth always denies vehemently.

Steve turns his attention back to Tony, who has taken off and folded his sunglasses, letting them hang from the collar of his shirt.

“Would it kill you to take the elevator and walk?”

“It’s not like I do this every single time. Besides, why take the elevator when you have a flying suit? That’s just ineffective.” Tony makes a face as he pulls his chair out.

“‘S good exercise.”

“I exercise plenty.” Tony sits down on the chair across from him, scooting closer to the table. Under the table, his ankle brushes Steve’s. “Besides, we just engaged in a vigorous workout session this morning.” Tony bites his lower lip, giving Steve a lascivious wink.

“Tony,” Steve reprimands, but finds himself unable to say anything further, not when the back of his neck is heating up at the memory of what they were up to just a few hours ago. While Steve immediately showered afterward and headed straight to the café, Tony decided he wanted to sleep for a few more hours, promising to join Steve later.

Tony grins before leaning forward on his elbows to peer at Steve’s sketch.

“Which lucky building are you sketching today, honeybunch?”

He squints and frowns when instead of a building he finds a rough and nondescript sketch of a person’s face.

It could be anyone to the untrained eye, but Steve’s pen strokes are sure and confident, having rendered the same jawline countless of times.

Every single time, Tony’s figure never fails to fascinate him. Always so beautiful from every angle, in every light. Steve knows it well enough by now to be able to sketch him simply from an image in his mind’s eye.

Still, nothing beats the real thing. Steve takes in the sweep of Tony’s dark lashes and his coffee brown eyes as he appraises the drawing.

“It’s not a building,” Steve says instead.

Tony hums noncommittally, tilting his head at the sketch and giving it one last look before leaning back in his seat. “How was your morning run?”

“Uneventful.”

“Really?” Tony says distractedly, his attention on Beth who is once again approaching their table with his cup of coffee, black as midnight.

Tony engages in more small talk with Beth as she sets the cup and saucer on the table, asking after her husband and kids. There is an easy and carefree smile on his face, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes.

All the while, his fingers are fiddling with two sugar packets Steve knows he will only use one of. He is always buzzing with energy, parts of him always in a state of perpetual motion, finding it near impossible to stay still.

Steve also knows that he won’t finish the coffee because it wasn’t made by Steve or himself.

These little idiosyncrasies are details that make up Tony, the little quirks that only Steve knows.

The little things that make you mine, Steve thinks privately. He feels something inside him softening at the thought.

“Sorry, honey,” Tony says when Beth eventually leaves to take another table’s orders, his smile soft and affectionate. “You were saying? Running was uneventful?”

“Yeah,” Steve says quietly, “nothing really interesting.” He admires the way sunlight turns the tips of Tony’s dark hair into a lighter shade of brown. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re still the highlight of my morning.”

Tony huffs, rolling his eyes, but his lips curve up into a pleased smile and his brown eyes are warm with affection as he meets Steve’s gaze. He reaches for Steve’s hand on the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. The band of vibranium around his husband’s ring finger gleams in the late morning sunlight.

“I better be, after waking you up with one hell of a—”

“Tony!” Steve exclaims, knocking his ankle against Tony’s in warning. “Stop it.”

“What? It’s the truth! You really did enjoy it when I—”

“There are children around,” Steve hisses, casting a furtive glance at a nearby table occupied by a family of four.

Tony laughs softly, his shoulders shaking with it. Still holding his gaze, he brings Steve’s hand to his lips, pressing two feather-light kisses to the back of his hand. He continues holding Steve’s hand against his mouth, and when he speaks Steve feels his lips and the bristles of his goatee brushing his skin.

“Sorry, baby, I can’t help it.” Tony hides a smile against Steve’s knuckles. “You’re just so pretty when you blush.”

Steve looks down, avoiding Tony’s eyes in favor of staring at the cookie crumbs next to his half-full cup of coffee that has long since gone cold. His cheeks are still burning, and Tony’s words are not helping.

“See?” Tony says, before planting a kiss to his knuckles. “So pretty.”

Steve shuts his eyes with a defeated sigh. “Please just drink your coffee.”

Tony chuckles again but Steve hears the clink of ceramic, a cup being lifted from its saucer. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

He only allows himself to open his eyes when Tony gets distracted by some pigeons, immediately launching into a spiel about the one time he was attacked by a pigeon who was apparently really determined to steal his sandwich.

Steve nods along dutifully, reacting at appropriate times throughout the story, but all he can think of is that sitting there, at a café’s outdoor table on Park Avenue on a bright Sunday morning, his husband sat in front of him talking a mile a minute, is that there is nowhere else he’d rather be.

His gaze falls down to where Tony’s hand is still holding his, even when his other hand is gesturing animatedly as he tells his story.

Yes. Steve thinks, smiling helplessly at the twinkle in Tony’s eyes — the one that appears whenever he gets excited. I’m home.

#stevetony #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #steve/tony #steve x tony #mine #earl wrote something

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frankcastleissoft · 4 years ago

Text

Lover

Frank Castle x reader

Word Count: 4,431

Warnings: angst, attempted rape, conflict/tension, and fluff (( but that’s not a bad thing :) ))

This new life with Frank was very simple. Not much else to be said about it. You both went to work and came home. Day after day, week after week. Simple.

It had been almost five months since Frank had finished off the last of the people responsible for his late family’s death. You could tell it still hurt though. It stung deep in his core. Like there was a ton of bricks inside of his chest, weighing him down. It hurt you too, to see him like that. Work for him was just a way to let out everything he was holding deep inside of him. He worked at a construction site, tearing down an old building. Sometimes he didn’t come home till dark and that scared you.

You worked at a catering company. You would go to the companies and help cook and keep the food refreshed. Cooking was something you really loved to do, so when you were able to get this job it really helped the situation.

The situation:

Frank was dead. And technically you were too. Not really anyone knew about you, but you had to be dead too. Now you both were living in a small, one room apartment.

You would come home around 5:00pm every day. Frank never beat you home. The last five months had been rough to say the least. Your marriage felt like it was hanging by a thread. You hardly talked and there was always this tension between you two. Some days you wouldn’t see Frank at all. He would come home after you were asleep, take a quick shower, find the plate of dinner in the fridge, then go to bed. You always made him dinner. Without fail. Frank loved your cooking. He was always starving when he got home.

And by the time you woke up in the morning, he’d be gone. It gave you this ache in your heart when you woke up and he wasn’t beside you in the bed that was much too small for the two of you.

So you would get ready for the day, then head out the door for work. It was always the same. Unless on the rare occasion, Frank would be dead asleep next to you, breathing heavily. He slept so hard sometimes it made you worry about how intensely he worked.

Work was long today. It felt like everything was ten times harder than it usually was, so you were looking forward to getting off your feet and sipping some tea, while reading a book. The little things meant the most living like this. The air was cool as you walked along the busy, Brooklyn streets toward home. You pulled your coat collar up against your neck, attempting to warm yourself.

After a few flights of stairs, you pulled your keys out of your bag and unlocked the door. You set your things on the table in the middle of the room and put your coat in the wardrobe that was just small enough to fit in the room. You looked around the apartment. The bed was facing you, across from the door and the wardrobe. In the middle a table sat there with two chairs on each side. To the left was a door that led to the smallest bathroom in history. Then a doorway beside the bathroom led to the narrow kitchen. The cabinet space was limited and there was a small oven and only a little bit of counter space. The Fridge seemed to take up the most room. It wasn’t much, but you did your best to make it feel like a home. Flowers on the table— they were dried up and dead now. A rug in the kitchen, a knitted quilt on the bed, and a few books on the nightstands.

You made your tea, then made dinner soon after. Just like always, saving a plate for Frank. You had finished dinner, avoiding the mess, now sitting at the table, reading and indulging in another cup of tea to help you sleep well tonight. Then you heard a key slide into the lock and the door opened. Frank’s heavy boots stepped in, the weight of his feet sounded like he had had a long day too. He placed his metal lunch box on the table, and sat down to take off his shoes.

“Hey,” his deep voice whispered.

“Hey,” you said just as quietly.

He put his shoes by the door, then went to the bathroom to wash his hands. You watched him from where you sat. His dark hair was getting longer and his beard made him look so different. You didn’t mind it though. Your eyes traveled down to his hands. They were so calloused with so many welts and blistered. More proof he worked so hard.

“I wish you wouldn’t work so hard,” you said without even thinking about it.

Frank turned off the water and patted his hands dry. You knew he had heard you, but he pretended not to.

“I’ll heat up your dinner,” you said, setting down your book and heading for the fridge, avoiding eye contact.

As his plate made its way around the microwave, you stared at it intensely, lost in a jungle of thoughts.

You and Frank had met during his massacre in Hell’s Kitchen. One night (or early morning) you were walking home from your dead-end job at a crappy diner, when a strange man came up behind you, sticking a gun against your side. He casually told you under his breath to stay quiet or you were dead. You felt fear spread through your entire body, not one finger left without terror. You continued to walk, the panic making it hard to put one foot in front of the other. But the man helped you out by shoving you along.

“Wha-What do you want?” you managed to crack out.

“I haven’t quite decided yet,” his voice sounded evil and cold.

Your stomach fell through, your heart pounded even harder. You had hoped he had just wanted your wallet, but now it seemed he wanted more from you.

“Come here,” he growled, shoving you into an alley, no one around to possibly help you.

You let out a cry as he shoved you against the wall, your head felt like it could have split against the brick. You sobbed out little pleases and cries.

“Shut up!” the man yelled in your face.

You finally saw what he looked like and you almost wished you hadn’t. He began to pull off your coat with one hand, the other holding the gun at your stomach. You felt paralyzed. You wanted to fight back, to never let this man take this from you, but you just couldn’t. Once your coat was off, he started on your shirt, a white button down, your diner uniform.

“Oh, hello, Y/N,” he sneered, noticing your name tag. “It’s nice to meet you.” His voice echo through your head. You knew it would haunt you if you made it out of this alive.

At that moment, you heard heavy feet scuffing against the sidewalk outside of the alley.

“Please,” you said a little louder, hoping the person would hear you.

“Shut up!” the man yelled again, shoving the barrel of the gun into your stomach harder. And just then, a large man shoved into the man who had half unbuttoned your shirt, knocking him to the ground. You cried harder, relief washing over you. The big man got the gun from the criminal and began beating him with it. Repeatedly and with so much force, you couldn’t help but stare. When his head was much too beat in to be alive, the big man stood up, looking down at his work. You just stood, melting into the brick wall. Both of your breath was rapid and heavy.

“You okay, ma’am?” the big man’s raspy voice echoed in the alley.

You just nodded quickly, almost scared of your hero too. He turned to look at you, his face splattered with blood. This was all too much. You were just coming home from work, looking forward to sleeping for twelve hours. But there was something in his eyes. They were dark, but full of something you couldn’t quite place. Your mind began to fog up and you felt yourself lose control. Then your legs gave out and you began to lose consciousness. You felt strong hands catch you around your waist, then you were out.

It was dark and quiet except for the faint sounds of cars and sirens. You were laying down and staring up at the darkness, a small light illuminated the space around you. When you were fully awake, you shot up, looking around. For a second you thought you had been taken somewhere, kidnapped, but when you saw the man who had saved you, your fear subsided some; but still wary of your safety.

“Hey,” his voice just as gravelly as in the alley. “You’re safe.” He added, noticing your nervous eyes.

“Where are we?” you asked, looking around.

“An old building,” he replied. “You’re safe here.” He assured again.

You took in your surroundings again, lost in your fuzzy brain. Then something struck you, and you looked back at the man sitting on the floor. His face was stained with bruises. Dark ones around his eyes and lighter ones on his cheeks.

“Wait…” you spoke softly. “You’re Frank Castle. You’re The-The Punisher.”

“That’s what they’re calling me.” he said, almost pissed off at the mention of it.

You felt a bit of fear stir up inside of you again, but it quickly settled. He saved you.

“Why did you save me?” you asked.

“I wasn’t going to just keep walking when I heard you were in trouble.” his gruff voice replied.

You gave a slight smile, thinking.

“You’re not like what the news makes you out to be.” you started. “I mean, what you did to that man was pretty… intense, but you saved me. They make it seem like you’ll just kill anyone.”

“I only take out the ones that deserve it.” he said matter of factly.

You grimaced a little at that; you didn’t know how you felt about his morals. But you watched him from where you laid. There was something about him that was comforting. Maybe it was the fact that he had just saved you from something that would have stuck with you forever, or maybe it was that he seemed like he genuinely cared about your well being.

“Where’s my coat?” you sat up, feeling a little frantic. It was something that felt so important in the moment that it made you anxious.

“Oh, I- I didn’t get it. I didn’t see it,” Frank said, noticing your frazzled state.

“It’s okay,” you sighed. It was just a coat.

“Can I go home?” you asked, slightly pulling the blanket off of you.

“Yeah,” he stood up, a grunt of pain leaving his lips. “I’ll walk you back.”

At first you were going to decline for some reason, but then you realized that was the stupidest thing you could do. You stood up slowly, your head still fuzzy from the passing out.

“Here. You can use this.” Frank laid a big coat over your shoulders.

“Oh- thank you.” you said, caught off guard. You slipped your arms in the sleeves that were too long for your hands to poke through.

“Yeah,” he said under his breath.

As you walked home there was silence between you. You wanted to talk to him though. This all felt so surreal.

Then a loud noise, probably a motorcycle backfiring, came out of nowhere. You were still shaken up by what had happened maybe an hour before, so this sent fear through your body. You let out a fearful cry and grabbed onto Frank walking beside you.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He said calmly. “It’s nothing.” He held your wrists, taking your hands off of his arm.

“I’m sorry,” you let out a nervous laugh. “I’m so on edge. This isn’t my average night.”

Frank gave you a smile. His smiles were magic, his eyes smiled too.

“This isn’t too unusual for me,” he snickered. “Except for you.”

That made you smile a little wider. There was something about him. Had you known him for twenty seconds, or twenty years?

“Well, this is it.” You said, taking a step up to your apartment building, now more level with Frank’s eyes.

He stood there, stocky frame, both hands in his pockets.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked, a slight smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said quietly, almost blushing at the care in his voice. “Do you want your coat back?” You began pulling your arms out of the sleeves.

“No- you keep it,” he put a hand out in front of you in rejection. “I lost yours, so.”

You smiled again, putting your arms back in all the way. It was quiet for a little while, just standing in front of each other. The city was mild tonight- well, this morning. It had to be 3am by now.

“Thank you.. Frank.” You said his name, really felt the word, nervous what he would think that you used it. Names are weird to say sometimes… when you don’t know the person very well.

He didn’t respond right away, maybe you were overthinking and it hadn’t really been that long.

“—For the coat.” You giggled, holding the front of the coat with one hand like a model.

Frank snickered, shaking his head. “No problem.” He grinned.

The joke hung in the air for a while as an excuse to not leave each other. But then it left and you both stood there in the silence again.

“Good night… uh.” Frank said.

“Y/N,” you replied.

Frank had seen your name tag, but he didn’t want to sound creepy by knowing your name.

“Y/N.” He said back.

The way his voice carried your name gave you this feeling deep in your stomach.

“Good night.” You replied.

He took a step back and you took another step up.

“Be safe.” He said quickly, then turned away, walking back to where you both came from.

The next night, you were walking home from work again. This time with your pepper spray in hand. As you walked, you felt like someone was following you. You became very aware and walked a little quicker. Then you slightly turned your head and caught a glance of the person. You stopped in your tracks. That frame you knew anywhere.

“Are you trying to get pepper sprayed in the face?” You chuckled.

“Not what I was wanting to happen, but worth it just to know you’re taking safety precautions.” You heard a gruff voice say behind you.

You let yourself laugh out loud, turning around to see Frank in a baseball cap and coat. He was grinning from ear to ear too.

It continued like that. He would walk you home every night. “Just for his peace of mind” he would tell you. That made the butterflies in your stomach fly higher. Those butterflies wouldn’t calm down. Even when you were just at home or at work. Frank was all you could think about.

One night you were at the diner, pulling another graveyard shift. You were in the back filling up the salt and pepper shakers. It had been a slow night. The bell sounded, telling you someone had come in.

“One second!” You called, screwing the top back on a salt shaker. Then you went to the front and saw Frank. You both gave each other bright smiles.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, coming out from behind the counter.

“Had the night off, thought I’d pop by.” He shrugged.

“Oh, okay,” you replied, shrugging too, joking like this was a normal thing he did. “Coffee?” You asked, but already started pouring a mug.

“Thank you.” He nodded. “I’ll just wait over here till you get off.” He went over to a corner booth.

“Okay,” you ducked your head, smiling like a fool.

As things progressed in The Kitchen, Frank walked you home less and less. You knew what he was. You knew what he did. It scared you to think about sometimes. There was something so mysterious about him, but there was something rooted so deeply in him that was just simply good. That’s what you saw every time you looked at him. His goodness.

Frank didn’t tell you much about what was going on, he said he didn’t want you getting in the middle of it; you had a couple fights about that. But you knew about Karen and how she was trying to help him. You were thankful for her. That she was helping him in ways you couldn’t.

He told you about his family. You cried. It broke your heart to hear the way he talked about them. His eyes glossy, his voice growing raspier.

Then he got arrested. You were shocked as you watched the news on the tv in the diner.

As the days dragged along, you felt yourself start to think it wasn’t ever going to be what you wanted it to be with Frank. It was hard to come to that conclusion, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop caring about him.

One day, you tracked down Karen Page and told her who you were and you both talked for hours. She told you about how she was investigating his case. You told her what you knew about him, it wasn’t much at all, though.

She told you as much as she could about his case. It was nice to have her, you both got along so well.

You kept up with the trial through the news, it hurt to see the way he was handling it.

Then he broke out of jail. That scared you. You didn’t know what he was doing.

Then all of the shootings happened. Everyone was blaming him, and you didn’t know what to believe. Karen was quick to tell you that it wasn’t him and that he had saved her. Those few days you were a nervous wreck. Karen wasn’t answering your calls and you didn’t know what to do.

Then the next night— or very early morning, you were coming home from work. You dumped your coat (the one that was really Frank’s) and purse on your couch and headed for the fridge; you were starving. Then you heard a sound in the corner of your living room, causing your stomach to flip. You slammed the fridge door in fear. Then a figure stepping forward, into the moonlight coming through the window.

“Frank?” you dropped the apple, tears immediately flooding your eyes. “Wha-What is going on?” Your voice quivered with emotion. You noticed is bruised and bloody face.

“I gotta disappear for a while,” he said slowly.

“Frank,” you said again, running forward, into his arms.

This was the first time you two had had any physical contact like this. His arms wrapped around your waist so tightly, you thought he could break your ribs if he wanted to. Your arms were around his neck, your face in his shoulder. Blood was probably staining your shirt, but you didn’t care.

“Do you mind if I wash up a bit?” He asked after you had parted.

“No, of course,” you led him to the bathroom.

That was the last time you saw him. The news said he was dead. Some explosion. It broke your heart.

A few days after the news, you learned it wasn’t true. The experience in your living room when he showed up was heart stopping. You woke up around 11am after another late shift. You shuffled into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

“Can I get some of that?” You heard the familiar, gravelly voice say behind you.

You gave him the what-for for scaring you out of your skin. But it ended in tears and gratefulness that he was alive. You had to admit, you had a feeling he was.

He left the next day, saying he had to finish what he had started. You tried to convince him not to, but he was too stubborn.

About a week later, he came back. He told you he had to disappear, go underground. He had changed his name to Pete Castiglione and he said he couldn’t see you anymore since he was technically dead. It stung. It hurt him too, you could see it in his eyes. There was something about his eyes that always had you captivated.

“Frank,” you said quickly as he stood up to leave, after telling you all of this.

He froze.

“What if I came with you?” You knew it sounded crazy, but you felt like Frank was someone you couldn’t live without. You’d known each other maybe a month, but it felt like years. You had a feeling he felt the same way.

He didn’t move, holding his hat with both hands in front of him. You stood up from the couch, turning to face him.

“Tell me you don’t feel like you’ve known me for years, like we were meant to meet.” You said, your face burning with embarrassment as you spoke. “Tell me you want to leave and never see me again. That you could just leave and never look back.” Your voice got caught in your throat.

“Y/N…” Frank whispered, taking a step forward.

“Cause if you tell me that, I’ll let you go. It’ll break my heart, but… I’ll let you go.” You bowed your head, closing your eyes, tears streaming silently down your cheeks. You felt a warm hand grasp your face, so gently. You looked up and was met with those eyes. They were glossy and sad.

“Frank,” You said so quietly.

“I can’t tell you those things, Y/N,” he replied. “I can’t lie to you.”

Your heart sped up as you looked up at him, his thumb grazing your cheek, wiping away fallen tears. You leaned forward, your head resting on his, both of you holding onto the moment with everything you had inside of you.

“I can’t let you go.” You whispered.

“You don’t deserve to live like a dead woman.”

“I’ll be with you.”

“What about your life? Your friends and family?”

“I don’t have any of that.” You told him that your parents were both dead and you didn’t have any other family. And friends were never your strong suit.

“But I—“ Frank continued. “I can’t put you in danger and you deserve so much better than—“

“You deserve to be happy, Frank.” You interrupted. “I know you don’t think you do, but you do.”

He was quiet. Standing there, you in front of him, your hands now intertwined in between you, he was in awe of you. He never thought he would feel like this again about someone. To him, you were perfect in every sense of the word.

“Please, Frank,” You stood on your toes and place a kiss on his cheek. Your lips felt the tear that had run down his lightly bruised face.

“You’re gonna have to start calling me, Pete,” he said, and both of you broke into the biggest smiles.

You jumped up into his arms in the tightest hug. Then you pulled away, looking at his sweet face. You both dove in at the same time with a deep kiss. It was full of so much love you both felt like you could burst into a million pieces.

“You are everything, Frank Castle.”

A few weeks passed and you both decided to get married. It was scary and something that was difficult for Frank, you could tell, and you didn’t blame him. But he loved you, simply and hard, so he knew it was right.

You changed your last name and quit your job and began to live a different life. A life away from the internet and the outside world. It was difficult to have to forget about your old life. More difficult than you thought it was going to be. You moved into a much smaller apartment and left everything of yours behind. You were dead after all, and you can’t take your things with you when you die.

You had contacted Karen before everything. She was the only person Frank trusted and you wanted to make sure she knew that you were both okay. She was so happy for you both.

Now here you were, months later, that honestly felt like years. Frank had distanced himself from you and you had curled in on yourself too. Things were rough. The routine was the same and everything was stuck in a time loop.

Frank had cleared his plate, now taking a shower. You turned on the clock radio for some music while you tackled the messy kitchen. Music was a safe place for you and it was nice to at least have the radio to keep you company. Then a love song came on that you adored. It was one of those songs that you can’t help but sway to. Frank came out of the bathroom soon after it started, but you hardly noticed as you were lost in the tune. You were standing over the sink, washing a plate, swaying to the slow beat. You did notice Frank enter the small, kitchen area, but you were caught off guard when he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You were stiff for a moment, but quickly softened into his embrace. You laid your head back against his shoulder as you both swayed from side to side, lost in the lyrics.

“You’re my, my, my, my… Lover.”

You felt Frank’s warm breath against your neck. It was so comforting. His arms tightened around you and you dropped the plate in the dish water, moving your soapy hands to on top of Frank’s. This was everything.

The song ended, it wasn’t long enough. You turned to face Frank, looking into his eyes. His eyes. You hadn’t looked at them and gotten that feeling in so long.

“Frank,” you said with your breath, your hand grasping his bearded cheeks.

You felt his hands grasp your hips tightly, and you both leaned in, your lips pressing firmly against each other. Things got a little brighter as the night went on.

...

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dangerousstrawberryshark · 4 years ago

Text

Yandere Bully Jasper Hale X bullied Male Reader

Warning: little violence, bullying, and a little smut.

Requested from Peramess.

Background: In this world vampires and humans live together in peace but vampires still mistreat humans because they are weaklings. Then this brings us to Jasper Hale he is the king of H/S/N. He bullies those that weak he likes to pick on one kid specifically... M/n. this goes on for a while until a new boy arrives at school. Jasper doesn’t like how you and him are close. Jasper had to ‘deal’ with Elijah.

M/N: Male name

L/N: Last name

H/S/N: High School Name.

Disclaimer: I have never seen twilight so my knowledge of it low. All I know is its about werewolves and vampires and a girl named Bella.

sorry if this is bad!

Word count: 2026

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MINORS DNI. FEMALE READERS… I’LL ALLOW YOU TO READ MY FICS BUT DO NOT FETISHIZE ANY OF MY STORIES

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*beep, beep, beep*

You heard your annoying alarm clock going off. “Ugh!” you turned off your alarm clock and got up. You see hints of the sun’s rays penetrating through the closed curtains. ‘New day, and more torture.’

You were bullied by Jasper Hale, the “Vampire King” of H/S/N. You didn’t understand why he was doing it, you weren’t weak like others. You do go to the gym and workout, but you weren’t strong as Jasper.

After just staring at the corner for 5 minutes, you finally got up and began your daily routine. You emptied your blabber, bushed your teeth until they were crystal white, and you put on your uniform.

After a few minutes some finalizations, you made your way downstairs, where you see your mother cooking her famous pancakes. “Good morning sweetie!” Your mother acknowledges your presence entering the kitchen.

‘Hey mom,” you said with a tired voice. “You okay sweetie? You don’t seem excited.” Your mother asked worriedly. “I’m just tired. I just wanna go back to sleep.” you said, ‘If only she knew.’ You thought to yourself. “Oh okay, anyways breakfast is ready! Dig in!” your mother placed down a plate full of pancakes, bacon, sausages, and eggs with toast and milk on the side. Your mouth was salivating. “Thanks, mom.”

After a few minutes of eating, you said goodbye to your mother and began walking to school. As you were walking, you began to take in the sights before entering prison- school.

You began to the building appear in the distance. When you entered, you were met with a kick to the leg. “Ahh.” you fell onto the concrete floor, you looked you see the same blond-haired guy that made your life a living hell, Jasper Hale. (is that blond hair?)

“Well, well, well look at what we got here.” you heard him say clearly mocking you. “Well, you need to get your daily beating.” You were now scared, nobody was coming to aid you. Everyone was afraid of what might happen to them. You felt pain spread throughout your body as they kicked.

The bell ring and the kicking stopped. “I’ll be back later to finish what we started.” Jasper whispered into your ear before leaving with his gang. You stayed there for minutes before attempting to get back up.

While you were getting up, you see a hand in front of you. You looked up and see an unfamiliar person. ‘Who is he?’ You questioned. You just stared at his hand before finally taking it.

“You okay? You looked pretty beat up.” this stranger said. “Yeah, I’m okay this happens daily,” you replied not caring about how he would respond. “If you say so,” he responded. “So are you new here or something? Cause I have never seen you around,” You asked curiously. “Oh, yes. Yes, I am new. And I was wondering if you knew where this class is?” he asked handing you his schedule. You looked over and he had the same classes as you. “We both have the same classes. I can show around if you want,” you offered him. “Okay, let’s get going!”

“By the way, what’s your name?” You asked wanting to get to know him, ‘He could be my first friend!’ you thought excitedly. “Elijah. Elijah Wilson. Nice to meet you. what’s your name?” he now asked you the same question. “Oh, umm M/n. M/N L/N…” you replied nervously since this was your first time having a normal conversation. “Nice to meet you M/N! Now I feel like we should get going.” He replied in a friendly tone. ‘Maybe he isn’t that bad.’ “Yeah, let’s get going,” you replied with a smile on your face.

“So you have trigonometry for the first period! Come on let me show you where it is.” You said walking in the direction of both you’re first-period class. “Ugh, trigonometry?! Why is math my first-period class!” Elijah said annoyed, while you laughed at him.

Time skip (4 minutes)

After walking for 4 minutes you and Elijah both made it to class. Once you open the door everybody stared at you. “You’re late!” your teacher said aggravated that you interrupted her class. In the corner of your eye, you can Jasper be chuckling and smirking along with everybody else. That was when Elijah made himself noticed after walking in. Now everybody’s attention was on him.

“Ahh, you must the new student right?” “Yes, I am. my name is Elijah Wilson,” Elijah replied timidly. “Alright, class Elijah will be joining our class and treat him with respect. Do you need someone to show you around?” Your teacher asked trying to get this over with. “No, M/N said he’ll show me around,” Elijah replied. “Okay, M/N you will show him around! Now… take your seats.” the teacher demanded.

You went to your seat while Elijah followed you and took his seat next to you since no one wanted to. Everybody was looking at you both, some with a look of pity, and the others just a look of fear of what was going to happen. Jasper was fuming at this and everybody could feel his anger, he just glared at Elijah the whole time.

Time skip (30 minutes later)

The bell rang signaling that class is over and its time to move to the next class. You packed your things and waited for Elijah at the door. While you were waiting you got for Elijah, you got punched in the back and kicked in the leg, then you felt someone pulling your hair. You looked and wouldn’t you know it, it was Jasper with a furious look on his face. He was about to continue until someone stepped in.

“Hey stop that!” Elijah yelled, gaining the attention of everyone in the hallway. “Or what? What are going to do, you weak human.” Jasper said with venom, he let go of your hair and began to walk towards Elijah. Elijah walked forward as well. Jasper was about to punch Elijah but he quickly dodges and landed a punch on Jasper. Then the fight happened, you were just standing there shocked.

They were both beaten up but Jasper seems to be more injured. ‘How is he doing this?! Jasper is a vampire! He’s human?!’ You thought to yourself as you were confused. Jasper was the first to put out. “Gasp.” everybody gasped. ‘Jasper never backed down!’ you too were shocked.

After it was over you got up and went to aid Elijah. “Come on we need to get to the nurse’s office.” You helped a very bruised Elijah up and made your way to the office. While you were walking, Jasper was just staring at your back. ‘You’ll be mine M/n…’

Time skip (5 minutes)

You knocked on the door. No one answered. You decided to just enter anyways. “Looks like the nurse isn’t here. Go get on the bed and I’ll get the bandages.” you got the bandages and the alcohol from one of the cabinets. You both sat there in silence until Elijah asked something personal…

“Why don’t you have many friends?” you stopped what you were doing and just looked at him. “I’m sorry if I offended you,” Elijah apologize. “No don’t worry, you didn’t offend me.” it went back to being quiet until you man up and told him what happen. “If you’re wondering why I don’t have many friends… (you paused for a moment) My friends went missing. I don’t know what happened to them,” you said while tears began to pour out of your eyes. You felt Elijah hug you whispering, “It’s alright.”

Jasper was looking in through the window of the door. Jealousy and anger raged through his veins.

Time skip (2 months later)

You and Elijah have grown close. Jasper for some reason stopped bullying you, now all he does is stare at you, but you paid no attention to it.

It was the end of the school day and you said your goodbyes to Elijah and began your walk home. While you were walking you felt like someone was watching you.

You heard footsteps behind and you decided to walk faster the figure behind also began to walk faster. Before you know it, you ran trying to get away from this unknown person. But in the end, this unknown figure caught you and pulled you into an alleyway.

This hooded figure pulled out a cloth with chloroform on it and put it onto your nose. You tried your best not to inhale it but failed. You passed out.

You woke up and see that you’re chained to the wall. You began to panic, you looked around trying to see you’re surrounding. In the corner of the room you… Elijah chained up to the wall as well. “Elijah!” you called out to him but he didn’t respond. You heard footsteps coming down into the basement. You looked at the entrance and you see…… Jasper.

“Jasper?! You did this!” You yelled with anger. “Watch that mouth of your sweetheart.” when he said you were flabbergasted. ‘Sweetheart?!?!’ “Sweetheart?! One, why are you calling me that, and two, what did you do to Elijah?!” when I said Elijah’s name, his face changed immediately. ‘Bipolar much.’

“Elijah, Elijah! It always about him! Why?!” He said with resentment. “Why?! Because you bullied me every day! Elijah was the only one who actually stood up for me and stood up to you!” you yelled back at him. After you said that he just looked at you before making a move. “You wanna see what I did to Elijah?! Here have a look!” With that said Jasper throws the dead body of Elijah. You screamed at the sight, his eyes were ripped out and his fingers were ripped off as well. Also, his blood was drained.

Jasper just laughs at your expression. “Wanna know why his eyes and fingers are ripped off? Because he looked at you. His fingers? He touched you.” you were screaming at how calm he was. While you’re crying out your tears, Jasper began to step closer.

He grabbed the chains raising you up. He grabbed your wrist pulling you closer and tilt your head to the other side. Jasper began to lick your neck trying your sweet spot, he put his hand over your mouth so you wouldn’t make a sound. “Mmm.” you whimpering until…

“Ahhhh!” you felt fangs penetrating your skin. “Mmm.” Jasper was sucking your blood. He then stopped and began to whisper in your ear. “You taste delicious. Better than that scumbag’s blood. You taste so sweet,” Jasper whispered in your ear while also licking it and biting.

He went back to sucking your blood in the same location. You passed out from blood loss but before you did, you heard him say something. “You’ll make the best bride.”

Time skip (5 months. 5 months since you went missing.)

“You may now kiss the bride.” Jasper immediately grabbed you and kissed you. “We are now married. Now you’ll be mine forever. Nobody will come to save you. Dead is the only thing that will divide us…”

How did this happen? It started off as Jasper bullying you, now it ends with your Bully marrying you.

You’re his and he’ll never let you go.

#jasper hale #yandere jasper #x male reader #yandere jasper x male reader #violence #a little smut #bullying #possessive #obsessive

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mxpseudonym · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Tommy x Fem!Reader

Summary: The seeds Tommy has sowed are bearing fruit in your life and your relationship.

Length: 1797 words (allegedly)

Warnings: “18+”, NSFW, lite Dom/sub, Consensual as all hell, cursing,

A/N: Surprise!

Part I | Part II

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Would you like to check?"

Your worried eyes shifted to the door of Tommy's office. You'd come to visit him after your shift at work, only to find that no one was there except Tommy, who was ruining his eyes by reading in the dim light of his office. You'd recently had a suspicion that Tommy was partial to your uniform that was a simple black dress, but intentionally a bit seductive with a cutout in the neckline and the above-the-knee hemline. It was a tactic to have happy customers and more tips, and now a way to have Tommy's hands on you as soon as possible. In this instance, you were pulled against him, your back to his chest while he caressed your neck and viewed your cleavage.

"No, no, I suppose I did watch you do it. And no one's here," you reminded yourself. "Alright, you can undress me."

"As you please, y/n."

The soft fabric peeled off your shoulders, revealing your neutral-toned underwear beneath. Tommy watched as if it was the first time. It had been a few weeks since that first night in your room. He'd made friends with your limits and pushed them in little ways while watching you bloom from each new experience. You'd described it as building momentum like a snowball down a hill. You boldly conquered something new in the bedroom, which gave you the energy to conquer something new in your daily life.

You finally signed up for bookkeeping classes, which Tommy would not by any means make you pay for. You would have fought him on it, but when Tommy told you it was because he took care of what belonged to him, you were too busy being weak in the knees. You'd also stopped taking shifts from the lush of a woman, Clara, who always wanted nights off to date the wealthy customers. She glared at first but then somehow deduced it was because you had a man of your own and consequently won't stop telling you about her adventures in hopes of swapping stories. You never would have thought that this, sex, would change you so much. But it was more than that.

Tommy led you to the couch, sitting you both down before having you straddle him. This was new. It wasn't that you opposed being on top, but Tommy always seemed to have a plan, and you enjoyed being obedient to a fault.

"I think you'll like this," Tommy said. "You've been very strong lately."

Strong.

That was it. It was more than the sex that gave you the energy to do more. It was Tommy. It was everything about him- the way he handled business and fought for his family. But even more, it was the way that he saw you. He was forward and precise in the way he praised you.

When you did something far out of your comfort zone and wanted to hide after, he praised your bravery and showed you there were other options other than embarrassment. When you felt awkward, he told you that you were sexy and how attracted to you he was. Even the smallest things like asking vaguely for "more" were praised, perhaps encouraging you to speak more during the act. Tommy's presence was more than enough to support you day in and day out.

Tommy watched a small smile spread on your face, and his brow furrowed a bit, but he smiled as well. What were you thinking about? Was it because he reminded you that you were strong? His praises were never a lie or a new goal for you. He only mentioned what he already saw.

"What is it?" You asked.

"I want you to ride me, sweetheart. I want to see you while you do it," Tommy said with a gruff voice. There was no need for hiding his arousal; you liked it when you could tell he enjoyed it too. You nodded, your lip between your teeth as you shifted in his lap. Tommy kissed you and spoke filthy words in your ear about how good you were and how he couldn't wait to see your pretty face when you came.

Your hands clenched his shirt even before he reached down to tease you over your panties. When you felt the cotton provide just a bit of relief beneath Tommy's nimble fingers, you slumped forward.

"You're so sensitive, sweetheart. Were you thinking about me at work today? Is that why you came over here to catch me when I'm alone?" He asked. Your eyes cast downward as your cheeks heated up. Tommy raised an eyebrow in surprise. Had you really? "Are you disappointed?"

"Oh, no, I," you stammered, not expecting a real question while your mind was still on release.

"I thought you'd be disappointed that no one's here. Wouldn't you like to let everyone know how good you can feel? How pretty you sound when you're begging?"

"Ah!" Your hips jerked at the thought of something so devious yet thrilling. Tommy paused for a moment. He thought you'd like this, but he didn't want to go too far. He supposed his encounters required bravery from him as well.

"I thought you were somewhat innocent y/n, but you're a whore, aren't you?" He was about to ask how you were when you ground down on his hand. You liked that.

"Tommy, I'm... I need permission."

"Already? I've barely even done anything. Should whores be able to,"

"Please," you cut him off with a resounding plea. Your face was buried in his shoulder, and you were rocking against his hand. His fingers slid between your lips, teasing your entrance and circling your clit, never giving too much but not withholding the most gratifying friction.

"No," he said, and you whined. "You're going to sit on my cock and show me how much you want it."

"Fuck."

You didn't swear often, so Tommy knew you were enjoying it. He tugged on your shorts.

"Take these off."

You stood to follow orders, and Tommy followed, ridding himself of his trousers as well. He sat first, pulling his hardened cock out of his boxers and stroking a few times before motioning for you to straddle again. You licked your lips unconsciously, and Tommy almost groaned as he motioned for you to return to your place.

You were erotic in your obedience and how you moved when you finally let go. The way you call him "Sir" turned you on. When you couldn't control the bucking of your hips. The whimper when he pulled out of you, and you wanted to be full again. And now, the way your mouth dropped open when you sunk down onto him.

"Just like dancing," he said, placing his hands on your waist. He guided you in rocking your hips forward and back, up and down, each time causing your breath to hitch. "Take the lead."

Your eyes met his, and you nodded. Every movement made you feel so full, and even the slightest shift grazed your slick walls perfectly. You moved up and sat fully again. Your rhythm was off for a moment, but you soon found your groove, and you were moving at a slow but steady pace. Tommy's hands gripped your waist, not guiding you but grounding himself. The position, his words, or perhaps a combination of both was making you drip and clench around him. Your eagerness was turning needy right before his eyes. He didn't know how much more he could take.

"Tommy, Sir, I'm so close. I want to come like this," you said quietly. Your eyes didn't leave him and your arms wrapped around his neck.

"I'll let you come all over my cock. Is that what you want?"

"Yes, I want to come all over your cock. I want to be a good girl, Tommy," you said. A thought flashed into your head and, before you could filter it, you were already saying, "Can't I be a good whore too? Just for you, Sir?"

Tommy's hips bucked up against you, making you both swear. You groaned and attempted to get the same feeling. You moved faster but dropped yourself down just as hard.

"Christ, love," Tommy groaned. "Say that again. Tell me what you want, and I'll let you have it."

"I want to be a good whore for you, Sir. And I want to come on your cock, Sir. And if anyone were here, I would want them to hear how good you make me feel."

Tommy wondered if you were trying to make him come first for a moment. What a naughty woman. Though the words still made your face hot, it was worth Tommy's permission to release and the feeling of him thrusting into you.

"That's it, love, take it. Take what you need," Tommy growled as you tightened around him. A rough thumb to your clit send you falling off the edge, but it was Tommy's firm grip holding you down on him and providing deep, short thrusts that left you incoherent. "Now stay just like that so you can take my seed, sweetheart."

You were sure he was saying words in your ear, but you couldn't hear them. You could only feel the second wave of pleasure coming towards you as Tommy milked you on his cock for his own satisfaction. This was the whore in you, you supposed. The enjoyment that came from feeling like you were used to meeting Tommy's needs. You wanted more of that. Could you ask for it? For Tommy to fuck you for his pleasure only, even leaving you with no release at all? The thought itself sent you crying out.

Your second orgasm was more than enough for Tommy to find his own release. You're trembling above him, still sopping wet. When you sat back, Tommy raised an eyebrow. Your eyes were glossy as you panted, and your hair that had been styled neatly was now a mess.

Tommy cleaned you both up, making sure to cover you in affection and remind you that the words said between you during play were for making you both feel good and nothing more. However, when you and Tommy got in his car so he could take you home, you took a tell-tale deep breath, letting Tommy know you had something to say.

"I liked that," you said first, knowing he was going to ask. Your eyes lowered to your wringing hands, and you said one thing that opened a new door for you both. "I like it when you're a little mean."

Tommy looked you over and smirked. He leaned over and kissed your temple before starting the engine.

"Okay, sweetheart. I'll remember that."

#As You Please Series #Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby Smut #Tommy Shelby Imagine #Tommy Shelby x Reader #Peaky Blinders Smut #Peaky Blinders Fanfic #Spicy Writing #Spicy Tommy

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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

Text

smoke and fire (10)

word count; 16,174

summary; a suspicious call has disastrous consequences.

notes; it’s time. the death, and you aren’t ready for it. grab your tissues.

warnings; major character death, panic attacks, breakdowns, arson, gore, blood triggers, explosions, significant descriptions of injury, vomiting.

“You sure the call was here?”

You twisted to look at Minho, and he scowled at you for the insinuation. “I followed the directions!”

“Well, I don’t see a fire.”

“Oh, well, thank you, Captain Obvious!” He scoffed, and a few chuckles ran out over the group as you beamed at him. “How come nobody ever gets at Fry for his driving?”

“Because he knows how to drive.” You snipped back, and an arm slung over your shoulders, a new medkit pressed into your arms by your partner, and you scowled down at the bag.

It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with it, per se.

In fact, it was a pretty nice bag, all things considered. A nice shade of navy blue to match the smart uniforms the firefighters wore on formal occasions, with padded straps to ease the stress on your shoulders and no loose threads or faded patches. It was brand new, and it was even personalised with a nice stitching of white numbers to form ‘21 to show off the house you were proudly a part of, but it felt wrong.

It just wasn’t your lucky charm.

“Oh, stop pouting over the bag, will ya’?” Newt sighed, and you only huffed, swinging it up onto your shoulder, and tucking your hand into the fleeced pocket of the coat you’d bought. Since deciding you wanted to remain at this house indefinitely, you had treated yourself to a further wardrobe of firehouse ‘21 kit. Two more embroidered shirts, your new bag, this warm fleece jacket and even one of the firemen’s tees, the largest size you could get for comfort in wearing at home. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s not my bag!”

“Yeah, well, your bag is probably halfway to Australia or being picked apart by crabs, by now.” Your bottom lip stuck out a little at the idea, despite how entertaining the mental image of crabs playing doctor was. It made your lips flicker up in a brief smile, at least.

The rest of the firefighters were still standing around, staring up at the building with confusion, and you couldn't deny that you were in much the same state. There had been an emergency call, bringing you all out to the industrial estate on the edge of the city where you found yourselves now, and yet there was no emergency to be seen. Something about it felt wrong, something wasn’t right, you had a slightly nauseous feeling creeping in your gut but you didn’t know what was causing it, as nothing dangerous was looming over you all.

“The siren definitely said ‘emergency’, right?”

“Yep.” Thomas hummed, coming to stand beside his best friend, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat against the cool weather too, and his eyes found your own, lips forming a smile to greet you with.

“You know, maybe it’s like the call with Aaron?” A few of the other’s turned to face you at your suggestion, and you played with a pebble under the toe of your shoes. “This seems like the dumb place kids play at to rebel. Abandoned factories are great places for no good. Maybe there’s someone inside?”

Silence hung over it all for a second, and Gally was the first to break it, a groan falling from his lips. “I bet it’s a prank call.”

“We’re required to check it out anyway.” Brenda was ready to go, she’d been full of energy since the very beginning of the day, and you had a feeling that it had something to do with the suspiciously close arrival times between her and Minho. If you had counted right, it had been exactly five minutes apart, and the thought of Brenda telling Minho he had to wait five minutes before following her made you laugh. Neither had noticed you taking early stock on the ambulance this morning as they all but skipped into the station. You planned to confront her about it later. “Let’s get going!”

“Alright, eager. Something got you all hyped up?”

She turned to look at you, eyes narrowing for a second, and Newt gasped a little beside you as he realised there was some kind of gossip he had yet to be let in on, but didn’t bring it up, simply squeezing you a little tighter. “Alright, well, I don’t trust it. I want everyone in full gear, just in case.”

“Oh, God, I hate those damn helmets. So clunky and clumsy, I hate it.” Newt was complaining once again, his arm dropping away from around you to wander away towards a firetruck to gain a jacket and a helmet to match the rest as he followed the directions given by his friends, and he team around you all pulled on their helmets, masks hooked onto their hips in case they were needed.

“C’mon, let's get you all geared up. Think you can manage to keep it all on, for once?”

“What do you mean ‘for once’, Thomas? One time I took off a rope, one time!” He only beamed at your attitude, opening up the back of the Squad truck to begin getting out the spare equipment for both you and Newt. He simply shrugged, and Newt made a show of dropping down to sit on the concrete as he kicked off his sneakers, taking a pair of slightly scuffed boots, his own pair that was stored in the firetruck, and your own were much shinier, still waiting to be broken in like his were.

Dropping your bag down onto the lip of the van, you were more than happy to abandon the piece of material, despising it already, as the feeling in your stomach continued to make you dread everything about this unusual case. You took off your shoes to copy, and took the pair of oversized and heat-proof pants from Thomas, tugging them up over your uniform to cover your legs, and fastening them tightly around your waist.

“I already feel like I’m overheating.”

Newt only hummed from his seat on the floor, and Thomas dropped a jacket down beside his friend, the garment left abandoned. “Well, y’know, could take off your pants.”

Your eyes narrowed on Thomas as you pushed each foot into a boot, toes wiggling as you navigated your feet into the shoes, a hand braced on the side of the firetruck or balance, and he smirked at you as he held onto your jacket and waited. “Yeah, I bet you’d just love that.”

“He’s still waiting for his turn to see the cute panties.” Newt chimed in, and you leaned down, flicking him against his ear as you crouched to do up your laces, and he let out a loud shout of complaint and he wiggled a little on the floor to pull his fireproof pants up over his hips in a less than graceful manner.

“Yeah, well, he’s going to be waiting a while.”

“Don’t go breakin’ my heart like that, sweetheart.” He hummed, pouting a little as you moved to tie the other laces, glaring up at him as he continued to smirk, and Newt gagged dramatically at the interactions. You glared at him, too, your cheeks flushing with warmth, and you turned your back on the two of them, arms lifting to push backwards into the jacket Thomas was holding for you, before swiping up your bag and swinging it over your shoulder.

“I hope there’s a hole in that building, and I hope you both fall in it.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Tommy here is already falling f- you dick! What in the hell was that for?” Newt’s words were cut off, a red-faced Lieutenant glaring at his best friend, your partner rubbing the back of his friend and glaring right back, and you didn’t pay either of them any attention, instead choosing to wander away.

As you walked, you fastened up the front of your jacket, making sure that it was sealed up tightly to lock out the chill, and Gally was taking the first team in. The Truck team were lined up at the main entrance, a pair of bolt cutters in hand as the chains were snapped on the front entrance, all pausing. The sound of breaking glass followed, the whole team ducking down securely as they waited for a reaction to come from the broken glass. An explosion, a wisp of smoke, a smell of gas or a sudden backdraft, but nothing came.

It was all far too unusual.

“Do you smell that?” Winston voiced, face screwing up a little as he stood, leaning towards the window, and you raised a hand to cover your eyes against the glaring winter sun, despite the chill in the air, the rays were still bright enough to burn your retinas. “Smells kinda’ like a gas station.”

“You think there’s petrol in there?”

“Could be. I’m not seeing any smoke, but it's dark, and the smell is faint. These buildings normally have basements.” He shrugged, and you tucked your hands into your pockets.

“These kinda’ buildings normally become makeshift homeless shelters. They burn fuel for heat, maybe it’s just a smell that's lingering. It’s been pretty cold out, lately, we might just have some squatters being called in by a landowner.” A helmet was placed onto your head, falling down into your eyes from the impact, and when you lifted it up, Thomas was walking away from you, adjusting his helmet and preparing to take command of his crew.

“Well, no matter what it is, we can get in and get out after doing a quick check.”

He took a place beside Gally, the two sharing a glance, before the taller one was taking control, kicking roughly at the large double doors until they creaked under the pressure, swinging open roughly and echoing around the inside of the first room, the sound bouncing from stone and metalwork until it finally died out. Various torches flickered on around you as each member of the team activated the device on their shoulder, and Newt stood before you, a frown on his lips.

“This feels weird to you, right?”

“Really weird.” You mumbled back, keeping your voice low as not to disturb the members of the team who were each pairing off to enter, Thomas and Gally directing them at the doorways as they disappeared into the darkened old factory leaving you and Newt to follow slowly. You knew that neither of you was supposed to wander off too far, you would be told to stay in the main room, near the doorway, and to simply wait until you were needed. Teams spread out, pairs disappearing through the corridors, some up the stairs to the next level, and some lower to the basement, tracing the building for any source of evidence to support why you’d been called here.

There was a pause for a while, a long gap of silence, and you could hear the team shuffling about, before Newt was nudging you with his elbow, keeping his gaze forward and biting back a grin as he tried to keep a ‘professional’ expression on, but he leaned towards you to whisper his request; “You wanna’ have a thumb war while we wait?”

“Absolutely I do.” You grinned, turning to face him as he gasped excitedly, his one body facing your own. The radio on your shoulder crackled, Gally’s voice coming through it as he reminded the teams to update on what they had found, and so far, a collection of ‘nothings’ were coming back. Holding your hand out, Newt’s fingers wrapped around your own in the opposite direction, locking the two of you together, and you folded your other hand behind your back as he followed suit. Your thumb tapped against your hand and his, ducking together as you counted down in a small chant together, before the battle was commencing.

He grinned as his digit moved, wrapping around yours and trying to pin it down, but you were quick to retract it, and the smile was just as quick to fall from his face. Simple huffs in angry exhales and quiet laughter was shared between you both as you waited for any updates, the longer the time making it seem more and more like you were in the clear, as no signs of danger showed up.

“Upstairs is totally clear.” Thomas sighed through his radio, and you cheered loudly as you captured Newt's thumb, pressing it down while he cursed, and beginning to count to three. He didn’t let you get that far, however, before he was snatching his thumb back at the final moment, and you booed him, his lips flicking up cheekily.

“Told you, it’s a prank call!” Gally mumbled, Chuck radioing in to confirm his room was clear, as did Minho, who was checking carefully over all of the power outlets, but while seeming a little battered and busted up, some loose fires and broken sockets, nothing seemed at risk.

“We’ve got something down here.. I think..”

“What do you mean you think, Winston?” You paused, the two of you agreeing to call it a tie as a lead was beginning to rise up, and you focused your attention on your radio, trying to make out the words through the interference.

“I mean, it’s damn dark down here, and the smoke torches don’t give us much. I’ll need a whole flashlight, but from what I can make out, there’s a fair load of petrol canisters down here. Some tipped over, spilt oil, but no fire.” You could hear him clattering about, the metal sound of a boot kicking lightly against the side of one metal container ringing through clearly.

“Can you count how many?”

“Not without the flashlights.” He replied, and various chatter about it began coming over the speakers as the two lurked on the edge of the barrels, Fry adding that the two couldn't even see the end of the room.

“I think I can get power up and running. These circuits aren’t too busted up, I just need to flip a few breakers, hold on..” There was a grunt, chatter between Minho and Zart as they moved around the room. It took a few minutes, that same anxious period of waiting looming over you all once again, and you let out a low breath, the twisting feeling in your gut was still there, and you hated it. Resting a hand over your stomach, you took a deep breath, trying to ease the racing of your heart. “Alright, everyone get out from under any lights, the power surge might smash some of the bulbs, don’t stand under where glass may spray.”

You and Newt both looked up, a row of lighting above your heads, and your steps were almost synchronised as you took a few steps backwards from the centre of the room, making sure you were covered from a blast of glass if one came. You shared a nod with your partner, before lifting a hand to the radio you wore, and clicking the button on. “Alright, we’re all good.”

“Everyone on top is clear.”

“Me and Chuck are good.”

“Nothing over our heads, you’re good to go, Minho.”

The collection of affirmations was answered by the flickering of lights overhead. The bulbs were yellow and musty, and you jumped a little at the shattering of glass across the room, shards raining down to create a tinkling noise as it bounced across the concrete, and the bulbs all slowly flickered.

“Oh, shit, Minho! Turn it off!” Your stomach dropped, a slightly patchy transmission through the radio, and your breathing hitched in your throat. “We’ve got broken wires down here, sparks coming through th-”

It all happened within the blink of an eye. One moment you’d been staring ahead at the staircase and waiting for news, before everything had been a blur. Your feet on the floor, your body flying through the air before you were slamming roughly into the concrete factor walls, and it felt like everything in your body became bruised at once. Your shoulder was crushed underneath you painfully as you hit the floor, a throbbing on the back of your head now matched by the side as you collide with the wall, the helmet on your head being the only thing that had stopped your skull from cracking at the impact, and it fell free, rolling away across the floor as you gasped for breath.

For a moment, there was nothing, you felt numb while you tried to focus on what just happened, eyes squeezed shut as your head spun and you choked back bile, and then there was the pain. A screaming kind of agony racing through every nerve in your body, and you couldn't hear your own groan in pain as your ears rang loudly. Like a siren but inside of your head, and the throbbing behind your eyes only seemed to increase as you pried them open.

Clouds of dust waiting to settle that you could barely see through, but the darkness that had once resided was replaced with a bright orange glow, half of the flooring from the centre of the room having crumbled entirely from the blast below you, flames and smoke licking up into the air and beginning to fill the room. You struggled, to even push yourself up to sitting, and you stretched your jaw, shaking your head clear to try and combat the ringing within your ears, before fumbling for the torch on your shoulder, and turning it on.

It didn’t do much, it didn’t help you see through the dust, but you blinked, clearing your vision enough to watch another dulled torch flicker on a few metres away from you, and you arched your back, your bag still there but your bones and muscles aching from being slammed into it against the concrete, feeling the imprint of the equipment under your skin. The walkie-talkie on your shoulder was going but you couldn't focus on that now, stumbling to your feet and tripping on nothing as you tried to step forwards, once hand pressed to cool concrete as you steadied yourself, and tried to make your way toward Newt.

He met you halfway, the sweat on his face matted with grey ash and dust, his eyes wide, a little frantic, and he licked over dry lips, which seemed to do nothing, as they were in much the same state only a second later as the once cold room was rapidly beginning to heat.

“Are you okay?” You had to shout just to hear yourself speak, and he squinted at you, seeming to struggle to hear himself, making you repeat the words, reading your words. He nodded, hand coming up to sit on your shoulders as his gaze scanned over you, and you did the same to him, silently checking one another for injuries.

The ringing was dying down a little bit, you could hear the flames now, and the sound of sliding and grating stone and metalwork as the unstable floor continued to break away in some places. “We should split up.”

“I’ll take upstairs if you take this floor?”

You glanced at the stairs, looking around the room, and assessing the gaps of concrete that looked as though they were still stable. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“You good?” He slipped a hand back up to your cheek, turning your gaze back to him, and making sure you were picking up the determination in his voice.

“I’m good, I swear.” He shook himself off a little, flexing his leg at the knee while holding onto you, all the way down until he was rotating his ankle a little, but you didn’t get a chance to question whether he was truly okay, before he was disappearing from your sights and brushing past you, a final squeeze of your shoulder in confirmation, before the smoke was swallowing up his figure and he was simply a disappearing flashlight that faded with every step.

There was a good amount of concrete left around the left side of the building, furthest away from where the basement with Fry and Winston must have been, and you paced back the way you came, making sure to scoop up your helmet as you went, and place it onto the top of your head, adjusting it carefully to keep your protection against the situation.

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, the crunch of broken pieces of stone and dust under your feet, navigating your way through the smoke with a hand pressed to the all, avoiding the flames that were growing higher and higher in the centre of the room, just to find the corridors you’d watched your friends disappear down less than a half-hour before.

Finding your way, you were grateful to see that the passageway was intact, dark and filling with a layer of crawling black clouds along the ceiling but no damage that would impede your way, and there were several doors open. You took off in a jog, scanning the insides of each room, and coming to a skidding halt as you caught sight of the first of your team members behind a third door.

Minho was lay out across the floor, and Zart was kneeling by his side, the look passing over his face could only be described as the kind of relief that gives you epic highs as the stress died down, and you took a place on the other side of him, kneeling to check on the unconscious one of the pair.

There were darkened veins along his arm, and the skin under his glove was a little raw as you peeled it back to check over, the burns travelling all the way up to his wrist, The smell of burning flesh made your nose wrinkle, and you dropped your bag from your shoulders. Tucking your bag underneath his feet to elevate them, you pressed down over the artery in his neck, monitoring the speed at which his heart was still pumping. It was slower than you would’ve liked, but strong, and you could at least let out a little sigh of relief at that.

The muscles under his skin were twitching and spasms, the aftershocks of the current still tingling over his nerves no doubt, and you lifted one eyelid at a time to check him. There were no burst veins in his eyes, and his pupil reaction time suggested that he hadn't gained any permanent brain damage from it. There was a cut across the back of his head from colliding with the concrete after losing his helmet, but it wasn't too deep of a gash, and it was something that could be focused on after he woke up, because the dust was currently helping to clot the wound.

The radio on your shoulder clicked into life, and Newt was on the other end of it; “How you doin’ down there?”

Pulling back, you spared one hand to press the button to allow your reply, as the other tucked your torch away carefully. “Uh, I got Minho here. He’s out cold, got a gash on the back of his skull but nothing permanent, he’ll just have a bad headache and some aches when he wakes up, some burns on his hand to take care of. Might need a new glove, this one is a little charred.” You picked it up, examining the half-melted plastic fingertips, undoubtedly a power surge racing back through the system as it sparked against the petrol in his rush to shut it down. “How’s everyone up there?”

“Tommy and Brenda are okay. Gonna’ be a little sore, some minor injuries, a few cuts and scrapes, nothing terrible.”

“Tell that to the pain in my ribs.” Brenda coffee through the radio, a few slow chuckles following it, and the doorway beside you was filled as a shocked and ash-stained Chuck and Jeff filled the doorway.

“She’s fine, just dramatic.” You could practically hear Newt’s eyes rolling over the waves, and you motioned them a little further inside. Zart seemed okay, he was checked over, you flashed the torch over his eyes and asked him where his pain was, but much like you and newt, he’d had the luck of being stood away from anything else, just a headache from the blast and a sore through from the smoke, but he was quickly hooking up his mask to replace the ashy air with pure oxygen, and he assisted you in doing the same for Minho.

“I got Gally and Clint here, too. Gal’s okay, just complaining like Brenda, but Clint’s got a pretty bad cut on his face, I’m going to clean this one up now.”

“Okay, I’ve got Chuck and Jeff too, but the smoke is getting pretty thick down here already, so I’m going to head straight to Fry and Winston downstairs.” As if to punctuate your words, you heaved a loud cough, the burning dryness in the air scorching the inside of your throat, and you swallowed thickly to try and choke it away.

“No, don’t go downstairs. You don’t have a mask. How are Chuck and Jeff? Send them down.”

“We’re totally fine!” Your candidate all but chirped the words, and you glanced up at him, eyes narrowing a little as he spoke up, as though to convince you to convince Thomas to send them down to find their friends.

“No, I should be the one to go, I don’t know what state they're going to be in.”

“We’re okay. Well, we’re not, but we can make it to you.” A raspy voice came through, broken with a little more interference as the signal cut through snow and rock from the lower floors, and your heart skipped a beat in your chest as Fry’s voice came over the speakers. Everyone seemed equally as excited and relieved to hear from him, the tall man chuckling as his friends all hollered in response to his voice. “Winston is out, he’s got some bad burns, I put him out but he was standing in front of me, he pretty much took the whole hit. I can get him up to you, but I’ll need help.”

You finished up with Jeff, your hands leaving his body as you finished pressing over his torso for any cracked ribs or tensed muscles, any signs you could pick up now of anything that might be wrong. “Jeff, go help him. Zart too.”

The men nodded, and Chuck was all but bouncing in his boots before you as he stared. “I’m fine, I swear.”

“Bullshit. Chuck got thrown into a piece of machinery, looked pretty bad from where I was standing, his feet weren’t even on the floor for the blast.” You frowned at your friend, the official firefighter shrugging as he adjusted his mask before setting off, and the young trainee in front of you sighed. “Really, I’m fine. Sure, a bit sore, but isn’t everyone? Let me go help my friends, I’m all good.”

“Let me check you first, alright? I’ll be quick.” He sighed, but nodded his head, and you motioned to the front of his jacket, letting him unzip it for you. You started at his head, gingers smoothing through brunette curls as you felt over his skull for bumps and grazes, your fingers coming up dry over smooth skin, before you were moving down. You scanned his eyes, watching reaction times, and grinning a little as he winced and cursed under his breath for staring right into it and trying to follow the light, blinking rapidly to clear the retina burn. “Can you say ‘the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog’ ten times fast?”

“Really?”

“Yep.” You popped the ‘p’, his face screwing up as he pouted, but he continued to list off the words to you, repeating them perfectly, stuttering over the words occasionally when he went too fast and got tongue-tied, but it was enough to signal to you that he was certainly understanding what he was saying, and aware of the words, never having a problem with processing them in his mind. “Tell me your birthday, your mother’s maiden name, and the street you grew up on as a kid?”

“You sound like a scammer trying to hack into my Facebook account. Those are my security questions. Do you want the name of my first elementary teacher or my favourite musician from when I was fifteen too?”

“Nah, not the musician. That was only a few months ago, too easy to test amnesia against.”

“Screw you, I’m twenty-two.” He growled, and you chuckled, listening to him give you the answers you had requested, as your hands moved over his ribs. There was no swelling, and you studied his reactions, the occasional wince or twitch, but nothing to indicate any serious pain. He’d have some bruising, but so would everybody in here, and there was no hard or tensed flesh under his skin to suggest any kind of internal problems that would flare up.

“Any pain you should be honest about?”

“None but this conversation.” He mumbled, and you pinched at his side roughly, the kid yelping and shoving at your shoulder, making you laugh as he stepped back, fastening his jacket up in protection against the heat, despite the flames now quite having made it to this room yet. “Alright, but you’re not going downstairs.”

“I’m not?”

“No, I need you to go and get the stretcher. Winston is in a bad way, and so is Minho. Both need to go to the hospital. We’re going to be down team members, and we can’t handle this on our own. We also need another ambo’. I need you to go and call it in, get another team and another paramedic here.”

“I can do that.”

“What out for the fire, it’s the big orange thing that glows, it’s hot too, an-”

“I hate you!” He yelled, flipping you off as he exited the doorway, and you turned back to face Minho. You crouched beside him, fingers pressing to his neck again as you took new measurements for him, and you could hear the team hustling around you, the sound of the trucks starting up outside as hoses were unravelled and water was beginning o be sprayed, but it did little to ease your worries, because the flames above you didn’t concern you, it was the occasional popping sound of another canister going up in flames that did, followed by the shakes and crumbling of the building around you.

Clicking on your radio, you tapped your fingers nervously on your knee while waiting. “Zart, Jeff, where are you guys?”

“Right here.” You almost fell in shock at the voices in the doorway, fogged-up glass and oil marks on their uniforms, and you twisted to find the group stumbling through the doorway. With an arm over each shoulder, Jeff and Zart were dragging Winston in, his head lulling at an uncomfortable angle, and Frypan was staggering behind them, clearly having understated the severity of his own injuries. “Where do you want him?”

“Fuck, uh, right next to Minho.” You stood up, bushing down your knees, and pointing to the spot on the concrete as you moved away. “Here; put him here.”

You pushed the entirety of your hand out from under the oversized sleeve, leaning down to pick up your bag, but placing your hand flat to the floor, lips pursing as you felt the warmth. It wasn’t burning, certainly nothing you couldn't handle and it would do no harm to the men laying on it, but it meant that the flames underneath were right up and curling along the ceiling, burning through everything below and threatening to break onto your floor.

It was overwhelming, Fry slumping down to the floor as he became unsteady, and you regretted that he’d even had to climb the stairs at all, but there was no way you would have been able to drag him up them, and with the speed at which the flames were expanding, you were just glad you’d been able to spare Zart and Jeff to help him.

“Fry, I’ll get to you in a minute, okay?”

“Take your time, at least I’m conscious.” He wheezed, a hand resting over his chest as he took slow and steady breaths, and your mind was spinning as you took your bag out from under Minho’s legs, and tried to decide where to start with Winston. There was oil all over the front of his shirt, spotted with burned patches of material where Fry had put out the flames, and it covered your hands as you tried to undo his jacket.

The tips of your fingers burned as you touched the still hot material, the boiling oil against your skin making you bit down on your lip to content he pain, but once it was open, you were wiping your hand across your pants and coat, smearing the black liquid in stains over your clothes, fingertips tainted by the substance. You couldn't see what you were doing, a mixture of blood, dust, ash and oil covering his skin in layers, but any injuries underneath would have to wait.

Lifting his head and removing the helmet, your fingers ran through raven-black and matted hair. There were several swollen and solid bumps forming, but nothing too serious. His pupils were delayed in response time and his pulse was slow and faint, all signs that made you panic, but there was nothing that you could do yet.

“I’m here! What can I do?”

You could have cried in relief at the voice of your partner, and you hadn't even heard him arriving, nor did you hear the other pairs of boots scuffing, Brenda arriving in the doorway ad looking so thoroughly panicked and distressed over the unconscious man on the floor she had a bond with, but she couldn't reach out. Thomas was behind her, and Gally filled the corridor with Jeff and Zart, of whom you had never even noticed leaving, but they were helping to carry the house, and the spray of water reached your ears now as you focused on it.

“Fry. I think he has a concussion, possible internal injuries, I haven’t had a chance to check him yet.” Newt nodded, spinning in the doorway to face his friend, and you turned back to the colleague before you on the floor. “Bren, I need you too.” You glanced back, her eyes snapping up from Minho to look at you, and she swallowed thickly, before nodding. “I need you to watch Minho for me, think you can do that?”

“Yes! Of course, uh, how? What do you need me to do?”

Her words were hurried and rushed, and Thomas was barking orders into the radio on his shoulder that were silent in your ears as you tuned him out for the time being. “Gross, I know, but take his hand. Hold tight, and monitor the pulse in his wrist. Just make sure it stays strong and steady.”

She caught onto what you were offering, the chance to be with the man she cared for without anyone knowing the real meaning behind it, and she let out a relieved breath, a silent look of appreciation and passing over her face as she did as told, turning to care for Minho as you helped her disguise the affections, knowing that she wasn’t ready to be open about it yet.

“Thomas?”

“Yeah?” He mumbled, the radio almost drowning him out at the shouts that came through and you couldn't make heads or tails of any of it, mangled voices all clashing together, and you admired that he seemingly could.

“Can you check where Chuck is with that stretcher?”

“Says he’s on his way down, house ‘35 is sending their Squad and Truck over with an ambo’ should be here in minutes, he’s trying to guide the stretcher around the rubble and broken flooring.” You nodded, licking over dry lips that threatened to crack, feeling his eyes sweep over you as he assessed you for harm, but you had other priorities to focus on, like saving the life of your friend. “Can I do anything?”

“You can come and get ready to lift Winston onto a board, and then get him up top with Chuck. I think we should get him ready to go as soon as they get here.”

His form towered over you as he waited, and you pressed along his chest, wishing that he was awake to give you reactions, but there was still information you could gain from it right now, even if he wasn’t conscious. There were patches of blood pooling under his shirt from where you suspected the worse burns to be, the places where the fire had burned right through his jacket when the chemicals had landed on him, but you couldn't risk treating them now and exposing his skin to the heat that was building in the room, despite the team trying to combat it.

“I’m here! I got the stretcher!” The wheels rattled and squeaked as Chuck entered the room, his body colliding with the side of the door frame as he spun around the corner.

He parked up beside you, the contraception coming to a halt, and you leaned over Winston, reaching up to find the handle underneath the device, and pressing it upwards. The locks holding the stretcher up high gave out, the bed sinking down to a lower level, until the entire thing was almost on the floor, folding like an ironing board, and you began to undo the harnesses. Thomas and chuck helped, getting it all undone, and soon, they were all hanging loose, the cushioned base waiting for a body.

“What now?”

“Now, Thomas gets his feet, Chuck on his hips, I got his shoulders and his head, and we lift him quickly and carefully. We need to move as a unit, I don’t want to risk any nerve damage by lifting out of order, alright?” You tried to remain professional, absolutely terrified at the prospect of losing a team member, and the two men got into position.

On your count, you lifted, supporting his head on your forearms and your hands hooked under his shoulders, grease covering your hand again, and your nails scraped against his jacket just to keep a hold on his slippery figure, but he was rested against the trolley only a moment later, and you hurried to fasten up the straps.

Loose enough not to irritate burned flesh but tight enough to hold him steady for the ride up, Chuck and Thomas didn’t hesitate, before they were setting off and out to meet the next team. You could hear the sirens of the other team now, loud and clear as they pulled up, and between the flickers of rising orange flames, you caught sight of blue, reflecting on the smashed glass of the windows were ash layers didn’t dull the gleam, and the adrenaline in your body depleted just a little as help arrived.

You were down three team members, and you weren’t so sure you fully believed how well everyone else was doing. Clint was down for the count in your books, the head injury and the shock alone taking him off the board, Thomas looked a little dazed as he moved despite trying to keep it together, Brenda was completely and utterly distracted, and you didn’t like the wheeze you were hearing every time Gally spoke over the radio, despite being cleared by Newt. He was probably lying about his condition, you weren’t entirely surprised if he was, they were all far too brave for their own good.

That left only five you were sure of; yourself and Newt who were paramedics, not firefighters, and Jeff and Zart, as well as Chuck, but he was only a candidate. Of twelve team members, you only had five left who were operational, and you weren’t sure that was even the truth.

Your feet were unstable underneath you as you made your way over to Newt, shoving the contents of your bag back inside - not that you’d been able to use much, the injuries gained here weren’t exactly infield patch up tasks - and checked with Brenda as you passed by, who was counting the heartbeats Minho let out each minute as she timed them on her watch, and you would have aww-ed internally at her devotion to him had it not been for the situation.

“How are we doing over here?”

Newt glanced up, worry written over his features. “Definite concussion, some serious bruising, cuts I’m not too happy about but I got it clean. I’m out of paper stitches, used them all on Clint, you got any?”

“Yeah, I got some.” You felt grimy as you slid your bag down your arms, grease smeared across your skin, staining your hands and face as you wiped away sweat, stray hairs and layers of dirt, crouching down and rooting through your bag to find the paper stitches. As you located them, the men returned, the stained and battered stretcher belonging to your ambulance was back with your two coworkers. “Winston?”

“On his way to Chicago Med with the paramedics from ‘35; he’s all good.”

“We need to get Minho on that next stretcher.” Newt was rubbing a hand absentmindedly over his thigh, and you worried your lower lip for only a second, before you had decided on your plan. “Newt, take Minho to the hospital. He’s stable, get him hooked up to a monitor and he’ll be fine. I’ll take care of Fry.”

“You sure?”

“One hundred percent.” You promised, Brenda and Chuck helping to get him all strapped up, before they were losing too, and you turned back to your friend, using a finger to tip his head up to look at you. “Keepin’ awake for me there, Fry?”

“Barely.”

“Just focus on me, alright? Why don’t you tell me about your latest cookery experiment.” He chuckled a little, and you peeled the first of the paper seals form the plastic packet, squeezing shut the cut across his shoulder in the fabric that newt had cut away to revel, blood oozing up over your fingers a little as you did, and he groaned at the feeling, before you were placing the first seal down.

“I’ve never made mac and cheese from scratch before, can you believe that?”

“Never?” You teased, and Thomas knelt beside you both, silent but patting his friend's good shoulder, and you peeled up another stitch, placing the sticky seals down carefully along his skin.

“Never. I’ve been practising different recipes, and I would love to make it for you all.”

“That sounds amazing. I love mac and cheese, so you stay awake for me and hold on, and I’ll help you cook it just as soon as you’re back on your feet.” As you placed the last one that was necessary, you tucked the plastic packet away, searching for your spray bottle of antiseptic, and cupping a hand over the wound to stop the residue flying into his face or eyes, before shaking it thoroughly.

“Oh, you gonna’ be my sous-chef?”

You took the chance while he was distracted, laughing lightly, and spraying over the wound, his groan of pain not missed by your ears as the other house began to storm through the building, their whole team uninjured and functional as they tackled this tragedy. “You bet I am. Think you can stand for me?”

He nodded, but was clinging onto Thomas for help, and you zipped up your bag quickly. “House ‘35 is going to take care of it all, everyone else is waiting outside. Brenda will drive the van, and you can check over everyone else.”

Thomas threw the words over his shoulder to you as you navigated through the building, the pathways you’d used to descend to them all were far thinner than they had been, the floor caving in more and more, and you stuck close to the wall for support as you passed them by, the shine of daylight getting stronger and stranger as you neared the door, and you were sure that you’d never quite get used to the cool feeling of a breeze every time you excited a burning building.

You were covered in soot, oil, and sweat, and you couldn't wait to just get back to the house and wash off. The rest of your team were standings around, the ones who hadn't been shipped off to the hospital, anyway, and you let out a heavy sigh as you glanced over them. You’d all looked better; everyone having taken a defeat today, slumped shoulders and worn-out bodies as you passed your sight over each one.

“I just want to check over one van before we leave, and I’ll check over the rest on the way there.”

“Who’s doing the best?” Thomas questioned, a chuckle rising from everyone at the irony of it, and your lips flicked up as he took your helmet from you, throwing it uselessly into the back of the Squad truck and not even bothering to put it away.

“Well, I already checked out Chuck and Fry, they’re all good. I want to get another glance at Gally, but Jeff and Clint are good to go. I’ll ride back with Squad and Truck can go up ahead.” Thomas only nodded, grimacing as he stretched while moving away, loading your shoes into the van too, and Brenda flopped into her seat within the truck from the second she’d climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Newt already said I was alright.” Gally offered, handling his helmet in front of his body as he came to stand before you, and you raised a brow at him.

“So, you don’t have any chest pains I should know about?” His mouth opened, denials spilling from his lips, and you lifted a hand, placing it flat on his chest and pushing down with a minimal amount of force, but even at the light contact, his words were cut off as his breathing hitched, face screwing up in pain. “You sure?”

“It was no big deal, really. I got thrown, I landed on some material, chest first. It’s just sore.”

“Does it hurt when you breathe?” You raised a brow, smoothing your fingers over his chest lightly and pressing down against the muscle in certain spots as you tried to get a reading of where the injuries were, without actually having him strip his shirt off in the middle of the area.

“A little.” The winces on his face continued on until you were halfway around his sides, and down to the base of his lungs from the tops of his shoulders, purple bruising beginning to flash up along pale flesh when you pulled the neckline of his shirt aside to take a look. “Okay, maybe a lot.”

“You’re not gonna’ like it, but when Newt gets back with the ambo’, I think you should go and get some scans.”

“Do I really have to go to hospital?” He mumbled, groaning in discontent towards the end of his words, and you shrugged, a slight smile forming on your face.

“You really do.” He frowned, and you shrugged, pulling your jacket a little tighter around yourself. “Clint needs stitches and so does Fry, so I need to take all three of you, anyway.”

“Oh, so it’s a club thing, then?” He grinned, tucking his helmet under his arm as he wandered back toward the trucks alongside you, and Thomas was holding open the backdoor of the Squad vehicle, Zart already sitting inside, head tipped back to rest on the seats and eyes closed, exhaustion taking over.

Jeff was behind the wheel of the Truck van, with Fry, Clint and Chuck in the back, a space left for Gally. It was much the same with Squad, Brenda sitting up front and a space left for Thomas, neither truck having their usual driver and they felt unsettling empty with half of the team missing, but you forced yourself to swallow down the anxious feeling, the worst seeming to be over, exhaustion being all that was left. The Truck engine started up, hissing as it took off of its brakes slowly, and Brenda composed the motions, twisting the keys to start it up as you came to stand before Thomas.

He stood slightly taller than you, and as your eyes swept over soot-stained skin, you caught sight of the red on the underside of his jaw. Settling a hand on his cheek, he gave no resistance as you tipped his head back a little, his pulse thrumming under your thumb, and you let out a soft breath. “Not too bad, just a little cut. I’ll clean it up for you.”

“Didn’t know it was even there.”

“Oh, manly man, doesn’t know he’s hurt.” You teased, a breathy laugh leaving him as you let him go, and his hand found the small of your back through layers of material as he helped you climb up and into the van, the door slamming shut behind you.

It took him only a second to round the vehicle and get himself in, before Brenda was following quickly on the tail of the other truck onto the road, sirens unneeded as you slowly made your way back to the firehouse, the day seeming like a real blow, a rare day when there was no victory for your team, no lives saved that you could pat yourselves on the backs for, and some of your team already rushed away to the hospital.

As the van moved, the ache in your body seemed to loosen a little, and you set your bag down on the seat beside where you were, kneeling against the cushioned chairs to lean over the backs towards the front compartment. There were so very light burns along the edge of Brenda’s face, nothing any more severe than a sunburn, but the skin still looked inflamed with red and a little sensitive, and you shuffle through one of the inside pockets that Newt had arranged for you, seeking out a cooling aloe wipe, and tearing the top from the foil packet.

The piece of fabric was damp and cool under against touch, and you leaned over the seat carefully, making sure to be gentle as you wiped along the edges of her jaw, her attention fixed on the roads ahead of her, but she smiled a little at the relief of the cooling gel infusion against her skin. As soon as you’d finished caring for the delicate wounds, you used the wipe to clean the tips of your fingers, the rest of your skin still stained with the remnants of everything you’d encountered during your failed expedition, but the flesh of your fingers were clean, a dollop of burn relief cream coating the tips of two fingers.

A patch along her jaw was shiny and a little greasy from the residue of the cream, waiting to soak in and soothe the wound, but it was no longer bothering her and that was enough. Thomas tipped his head back a little, his body deflating under the weight of the coat over his chest, sagging in his tiredness, and his head rolled to the side to peer up at you.

“Me next?”

“Thought it didn’t hurt?” You grinned, a scowl taking place on his lips but the edges trembled as he threatened to smile, and he let out a little huff.

“Fine, I’ll just let it get infected, probably get some kind of blood infection, then I’ll die.” You couldn't hold back the laugh you let out at his dramatics, his eyes glimmering a little in the reflection of the mirror into the back as he caught your gaze.

“You are so melodramatic.”

“It’s a possibility!” He defended, Brenda and Zart adding small laughs to the mix, and your fingers brushed along his jaw, tipping his head to the side and ankling it upwards to catch the light on the cut as you examined it. Taking out a cotton pad and adding a douse of antiseptic to the centre, he held his head in that position.

“It’s a very low possibility. This is barely a cut.”

“Yeah, well, even if it- stings like a bitch, holy fuck!” That made Brenda laugh loudly, the van swerving a little in her shock, and he flinched away from you. “What the fuck, I thought it was ‘barely a cut’?”

“That could not possibly have hurt that much! Stop whining!” He growled a little under his breath, heat flushing over his cheeks as he complained about the skin being sensitive and the cut being deeper than you must think, and his head came back up to the correct angle as soon as you’d rubbed a little healing gel onto it. “Oh, you’ll be fine. It’ll be totally gone within a week.”

“Maybe you should kiss it better.”

Your head twisted to look at Zart, his eyes weren’t even open as his hands sat folded across his stomach, resting his eyes, and you were almost back at the station, your own cheeks flushing with embarrassed warmth now, and you packed your things away as you tried to get a hold of yourself.

“You know, just for that, you get to do reps next shift.”

“I did nothing wrong!” The foremen complained, his lieutenant sitting up front with a smirk on his face as he abused his power, and you grinned to yourself as Brenda all but howled in amusement. You almost missed the crackling of the radio on the dashboard over the amusement, and the shout that came through it, but the static was cleared by the second call, and the laughs faded away into silence.

The mood within the cabin changed in all of two seconds, laughs and gentle teasing with warm cheeks became blood running cold and a chilling shudder running along your body. The firetrucks ahead of you swerved onto the side of the road, their desperate calls for you to stop and join their vehicle made your legs feel weak, and you scrambled for the door handle before the truck had even finished rolling fully to a halt.

Their doors were already open, the body on the floor made you almost rip over your own feet as your mind short-circuited.

Hunched over on the floor of the van was Chuck, his body jerking unevenly in seizures as his hands hung by his sides, and as you knelt by his sides, a sudden cough shook his body, heaving for breath as he struggled to suck in any breath at all. You didn’t have the ambulance, or any of the equipment you needed, and you were left with only what you had in your bag and your bare hands.

“What the hell happened?”

Gally looked lost for words as you demanded an explanation from him, and you rolled Chuck onto his side, trying to position the larger man into the recovery position as he coughed. “I don’t know! One minute he was fine, said he felt a little dizzy, and that his vision was blurry around the edges but we all just assumed it was because he was tired, like us, or had a headache or something. But then he was talking, and his words didn’t make any sense! We called you, and as we were pulling over, he just fell out of his chair like this!”]

“Do something!”

“What’s happening?”

“Is he having a seizure?”

There were too many voices, you had no idea what was wrong, you’d done your initial examination of the boy and nothing had shown up. He was talking, smiling and chatting. He was steady on his feet with no signs of injury other than some bumping and bruising, no internal bleeding or cuts, and yet, he was having a seizure under your hands that you couldn't stop.

Your fingers pressed to his neck as you tried to find the strength or speed of his pulse; slow, unsteady and weak being your answer. “I need my bag! Someone go and get it!”

Multiple pairs of booted feet moved, and you solved a hand into the oversized pocket of the fireman's jacket you wore to find a torch you’d discarded long ago. Lifting one eyelid and flashing the beam of light over it, there was no longer a reaction, his pupil never moving, and your own heart felt like it stopped beating in your chest. Your bag landed next to you, the firemen gathered around you, but it felt like the world was slipping away, crumbling to ash and dust with everything you touched.

The whole day had felt oddly like it was moving in a mixture of slow motion, and too fast for words. Like you were walking through tar, but placed on fast forward, but this was different. This was the moment that made it seem like everything came to a stop, while minutes turned to seconds. It was too fast for you to handle, but flashing before your eyes like a video being played scene by scene. Like an out of body experience, a lucid dream, your hands being your own but the motions feeling detached, as your mind began to shut down on itself in shock and horror.

Voices ringing in your ears; screaming and shouting at you, begging you to do something, and yet you were doing all that you could, but nothing was helping. His seizing didn't stop, neither did the blood he was coughing up, splattering across your cheek in trails of wet droplets, spraying down your neck as he convulsed, across your chest as you leaned over to try and tip his head back to help him breathe.

“We need to get to the hospital, why is nobody driving this damn truck?”

Your hands were on his chest, trying to pump when you felt his body go still, when his heart stopped beating under your palm. It wasn’t the first time you’d lost a patient, it wasn't the first time you’d felt life slip away, your fist closing as you grasped to hold on but their life slipping away under your palms, but this was the first time you felt the life of a friend ebbing away and you were helpless to stop it. Your body was thrown from side to side, violently as you were threatened to be tipped from your kneeled position, sirens overhead and traffic swerving out of your way as the firetrucks raced.

Gally’s voice was clear in the ruckus, muffled but able to be picked out, calling into the hospital across the radio to meet you all outside, doing his best run down of the situation as he called for help, and there was a headache born of stress forming behind your eyes that threatened to split your skull right open.

This was Chuck; your first friend in the firehouse, the sweet kid who always had flushed cheeks and bouncy brown curls who was the first to really make you feel less alone, like maybe you’d found a home, the first person to truly let you in. The first person to talk to you on your first day, the first person to share a joke with you, the kid who made you tea when you were tired and watched romcoms, and had his squad training already all lined up because he just knew he was going to pass his exams. He had a locker only two doors down from your own, and his peppermint body wash always made your eyes sting a little but you'd miss it if it didn't, and you weren’t ready to let him go.

There was crying, wailing and screaming of his name, and it came with a flash of pain in your throat as the voice sounded suddenly hoarse and strained that you realised it was you. The wet heat on your cheek was no longer blood but salty tears, and there was a messy mixture on your face that smeared over your skin as you tried to wipe your tears away, stinging at your eyes, skin feeling raw as the rough material of your sleeve caught against sensitive flesh.

The doors of the firetruck opened; your arms, from your wrists all the way to your shoulders and your back, ached as you continued to pump at his chest, and two doctors you didn’t know had to pull you back and off of him to be able to lift his body onto the stretcher. He was rushed from sight, carried away from you quickly, your team surrounding the doorway as they all held the same look of abject horror, staring after the candidate they loved so deeply as he was taken away.

And then there was Newt, appearing from double doors to stare out at the scene before him, wondering what in the hell had happened, just like the rest of you were, the weight of the mystery looming over you all like a crushing weight, concrete sinking you to the ocean floor. You couldn't take it, not the whispered questions of confusion or the worried glances or even the hands that reached out to rub at your shoulders as they tried to bring you back from the brink, you couldn't take it.

It was Allison standing beside you, the nurse you’d met a couple of times, and your throat felt about as dry as sandpaper as you turned to face her, one clean and delicate hand reaching up for you, but you swerved away from it, the idea of another person’s touch right now making you feel more nauseous than you already did.

“Gally. He needs scans.” Her brows furrowed, and your voice didn’t even sound like your own, forcing you to choke back emotions and swallow down on a raw throat as you tried to think. “Chest injury, he needs some tests done. Clint needs stitches, so does Fry.”

“I can get that sorted, but don’t you think you ne-”

“I need to go. I need to go now.” You nodded to yourself, licking over cracking lips as you looked back to the doors that Chuck had disappeared through. “I need to go and be with Chuck.”

You didn’t pause, not when she spoke, calling out after you, or when Brenda reached out. Not when Thomas called your name, followed by an endearing pet name that was falling on deaf ears, or even when Newt reached out to snatch your wrist, fingers skimming your skin as you shouldered through the door, stumbling in placement after him. You heard him follow, though. The familiar pattern of footsteps that you knew to be your partners as his shoes squeaked across the floor.

You didn’t make it far, thumb jamming into the elevator door button and leaving a greasy mark across the shining silver button; oil, dust, blood, sweat, chemical. You didn’t bother to clean it off as the doors opened, and your blond friend slipped in alongside you once they closed again. He hit the right button this time, and he didn’t say anything, but he did take your hand, squeezing tightly and not letting go, even when you pulled away, when the pull to close in felt too strong, when the offer of comfort felt unwelcome and undeserved, he forced you to take it anyway, and in the silence of the elevator, the first real sob broke free.

They didn’t stop after that.

Not when you stepped out of the elevator, following along to the waiting room you’d become familiar with over almost a year of being around this hospital, of making friends. Your friend was dying, you finally allowed yourself to settle, to believe you were able to have something good, and it was being torn out from under your feet slowly, piece by piece. The thumb rubbing over your skin, and the tickling of the clock on the wall that showed minutes melting away until over an hour had passed was all that kept your panic attack at bay, the rhythmic sounds and motions keeping you in control, even if everything felt like it was spinning out.

At some point, you’d claimed enough to sit down, you didn’t know when, you didn’t really recall the decision, but now that you were sitting down in the chair, every muscle felt like it was too weak to ever stand again. You were exhausted, there was nothing left within you, and you were choking down the urge to vomit with every breath you took. Nervous reactions, the ticks in your muscles, the occasional spasms in the aftershock of such an adrenaline rush, and you were struggling to even breathe at this point.

Newt whispered words to you occasionally, statements that seemed to go in one ear and out of the other, but you’d retained a few key pieces. Clint and Fry were all stitched up, and had been taken back to the station with the rest of the firefighter’s when they had left. Minho was dismissed and to go straight home, and to follow the medical advice given to him by his house paramedics, if your head was ever going to be back in the game again, and Gally was much the same. He had internal bruising but no cracked ribs, he would just be achy and sore for a couple of days maybe even a week or two. Winston was due out of surgery any minute now, burns peeled of fabric and skin cleared of chemicals, but he wouldn't wake up until the morning, and he’d be in the hospital for a few days yet.

Then, came Chuck.

What seemed like hours later, and you were sure it was, if the change in the lighting outside as the evening began to creep in had anything to suggest, and you didn’t need to hear the news. It was obvious, as your friend stepped through the door, the mournful look on Derek’s face even when you knew that he hadn't been the one to perform the surgery, and what left you had seemed to fall away.

You had nothing left to give, no tears left to cry or screams left to let bounce from the walls. It was numb; cold and dark and lonely. You didn’t want touch, you didn’t want comfort or words of calming endearment, or anything else. You wanted your feet to move underneath you, and to carry you out to the van to go back to the station. You couldn't even speak, you couldn't thank Derek for coming to give you the news himself, to be the one to break your heart and deliver the blow a little softer than a stranger would have, but it was like he read your mind, because he dipped down, pressing what felt like a brotherly kiss to the top of your head, before Newt was wrapping an arm over your shoulders.

They traded a few words, things you missed, unable to cling to even a single syllable, before you were being guided along, white shiny halls like a blur around you, until you were sitting in the cold seat on the passenger side of the ambulance, clipping yourself in like you were on autopilot, and resting your head on cool glass, your eyes sliding closed.

You didn’t register the journey, none of the speed-bumps or dips in the road, and the silence in the cabin felt utterly stifling, your skin crawling as Newt drove beside you, slow and steady as he guided the van along, and your fingers were digging to tightly into your palms that you worried your nails would tear right through the skin and shred your palms. Your eyes were burning, holding back tears, and everything in your body felt like it centred on a weight, hanging on a pit in your stomach as your guts twisted into knots, bile rising in your throat as you choked it back, and your body jerked forwards a little in the seat as the van came to a stop.

Newt whispered an apology for the abrupt halt, his parking a little wonky when you cracked sore eyes open and blinked into the light, skin stiff from salt and stained with the horror of the day, and you didn’t bother to reply. As soon as you stepped out of the van, the team were there, all freshly showered and clean, changed into their own clothes and staring at you expectantly, and it felt like you were holding the entire world upon your shoulders.

“There was nothing that could be done.” He let out a sigh, heartbroken gaze flickering over everybody standing and waiting for news in the bay. “He had a-”

“Subdural haematoma.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, cutting Newt off, and their attention moved back to you as you cut Newt off. “He had a subdural haematoma. That, uh, that means he had a brain bleed, a tear in a blood vessel on the left side. He would have been fine if he’d made it to the hospital, if I’d noticed it, but it clotted rapidly. That gave him a pulmonary embolism.”

“The clots to stop the bleeding in his brain stopped blood from being able to get to his lungs.” Newt clarified, and you wondered if the way you were feeling on the inside was reflected on your face. “They tried to operate, but there wasn’t anything they could d-”

“I should have noticed sooner.” You mumbled, and Newt twisted to look at you, but then the feeling in your guys became all too much, and you cupped a hand over your mouth, pushing through the team as you stumbled in the closest you could get to a run. Pain radiated along your arm as you pushed through the main door to the locker room with your shoulder, knees hitting the hard tiling of the bathroom floor and making a cry leave your lips as you fell. The stall door slammed against the wall, a loud and echoing sound that made you wince as it rattled your skull.

Hands found the edges of cold porcelain, tears blurring your vision as you emptied your guts into the bowl. You heaved, bile and vomit burning your throat, and you couldn’t breathe, a flash of panic racing through your mind at the feeling as your body continued to wretch, before a further sickeningly thought crossed your mind as the fleeting thought about Chuck feeling the same way passed your mind. He couldn't breathe either, he had suffocated on his own blood as he bled out, all because you hadn't found the signs of his bleeding, because you hadn't helped him hold on a little longer, because you hadn't been able to save him.

A hand was on your back, and you arched away from the undeserved comfort, before fingers were wrapping in your hair, holding the loose strands that had fallen stray out of your face, before the hand was taking place again, rubbing soft circles against your back through the layers of material. There was no more bile, there were only tears, wracking sobs that broke you down as you cried, everything feeling weak, and you could barely hold yourself up.

That same hand moved, pulling you backwards until you were slumped out across the floor. You were trembling, shaking so violently you could barely reach a dirty hand up to wipe across the back of your mouth, and you managed to blink tear-filled eyes clear to look up at the person before you.

“Get out, Thomas.”

“Why?” He whispered, and you couldn't hold back the humourless laugh, shaking your head before you were breaking down into sobs again, and he shushed you quietly.

“Get out, Thomas! Get out, leave me alone, go away! Just get out!” You thrashed, his arms wrapping around you tighter as you pushed back against him, cursing and screaming. “Why won’t you leave me alone, just let me sit here, just let me be!” Walls were going back up inside of you, to protect yourself as the reality of the situation began to really settle in your mind, and you couldn't put them back up while Thomas was standing in your way, every ounce of pain leaking in. “I don’t want you here, get off me! Get out!”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He pulled you a little closer, the angle awkward, your hands pushing at his chest until there was no strength left in your body, and he held you tight. Your fingers gripped at his shirt, pushing weakly as your words became gabled and muffled, and you couldn't take it anymore.

You gave in.

You only had so much fight to give.

“He’s dead, Thomas..” Your words were like the final piece to truly accepting it, and you sniffed, sure that your skin was wet from a disgusting mixture of tears, vomit and snot but he never let you go, a hand rubbing up and down your back as his fingers slipped free from your hair, the ends damp against your skin where your upchuck had caught them in the crossfires, and yet, you couldn't even bring yourself to care about hygiene or impressions as you came to accept that you’d lost a friend. “He died, I could have stopped it. I should have done more, I should have checked again, I should ha-”

“There was nothing you could have done. Newt told us about it. He explained it. There’s nothing you could have done.” He pushed hair back out of your face, uncaring for the situation you were in, and wiping his fingers over your cheeks gently. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was. It’s my job to look after you all, and I failed at that.”

“That’s such crap.” He mumbled, your eyes snapping up to find his, and brows furrowing. “How were you supposed to know what was going on inside of his skull? Huh?”

“Thomas, I’m not in the mood fo-”

“The truth?” He snipped, cutting you off, and his hands hooked under your armpits as he pulled you up to your feet, your legs giving way and weight falling onto him as he supported you, one hand on your neck as an arm held up around your waist, thumb brushing under your jaw. “Look at me.”

You dragged your sights up, honey-brown eyes filled with concern staring down at you. “It wasn’t your fault, and nobody but you thinks it was. If Chuck were here right now, he’d call you out for blaming yourself.”

It was true, you knew it was, and it made your lips curl into the briefest smile you’d ever had.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?” You could only nod, his hands now both on your waist as he guided you in slow steps towards the shower. There was grime covering your skin, bodily fluids, grit and dust, all the way to grease and oil, and you hate the feeling of another caked-on layer against your skin. The water tap creaked a little as Thomas twisted it, water bursting through, and you were still gasping for breaths through your sobs as you stepped underneath it.

It was freezing, at first, the cold water was like a shock to your system as you closed your eyes and tipped up into the flow to let the harsh droplets wash over your skin. It began to warm up, and your lips parted, letting you breathe as you tried not to break down again. There was a rattle in the distance, the sound of someone moving through a locker, and your legs buckled once again. The weight of the world on your shoulders, the weight of everything that had happened, crushing you down into the ground, and your back smacked against the edge of the stall, and you sank down, until water was swilling around you as you curled your legs to your chest under the flow.

“Oh, sweetheart..”

Your chest ached a little at the tone of his voice, whispered words that hardly carried over the thrashing sound of the water, and his hand reached out to place your washkit on the small ledge out of the spray radius. His toes locked behind one heel, taking off his boots, before his sock followed, and he repeated the actions on the other foot. Bare feet met watery tiles as he stepped inside the stall, water beginning to mark over the edge of his t-shirt as he stepped close to the spray. “You’re going to get wet.”

“I don’t care.” His hands stuck out, expectantly waiting for your own as he stepped before you, water soaking over his back and clothes, hair growing wet once again, droplets shifting over his skin and dripping from the end of a sweetly upturned nose, and you slipped your hands into his. As he pulled you up, water bounced from his body across your face, and your bottom lip trembled. Tears were gathering in his own eyes, like he was only just getting a grasp on the situation, and his hands left your own, to smooth up over your arms.

A single tear escaped his eyes, lost in the droplets along his cheeks, and he cried silently while the sounds of your wailing filled the space. His fingers slipped under the edges of the jacket you wore, the heavy coat sodden with water, and he slipped it down your arms slowly, until it was hanging from your arms, and he took it from you, reaching outside of the cubicle to drop it to the tiled floors, and it felt a little easier to breathe now that it was gone.

“There are so many people who care about you. Right outside of those doors, all worried about you, all wanting you to be okay, too.” He pushed back wet strands of hair, delicate touch easing the bobble from your hair, letting the damp bundle fall around your shoulders to be washed too. His fingers moved to the buttons along the front of your paramedics uniform, the crisp white spattered with black and red, tarnished with grey, and as his nimble fingers undid each button, he leaned in, lips brushing over your skin, slow and tentative, until he was pressing a wet kiss to your cheek, water dripping over his lips, but he pressed in carefully, hands barely moving between your bodies.

He shifted, only a centimetre or so higher, across your cheekbone, a kiss pressed there, too, as he peeled the wet fabric of your shirt down your arms, discarded with your jacket, until just a wet vest covered your torso, white material going see-through under the fall. He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and your neck, and then your shoulder, before he was sinking lower and lower to the floor, kneeling before you and moving his hands to your boots, tugging at the laces until they came undone.

Your hands balanced on his shoulders as you lifted each foot, letting him tug away boots and socks, your toes aching from the strain you’d put on them, flexing a little against the tile when your feet were lowered again. Large hands smoothed up the backs of your legs, circling over the front of your thighs to tug the string of the firefighters pants loose, and he eased them down your legs, revealing the smart dress-pants of your uniform from underneath, and the pile building outside of the stall was leaking water across the floor into a large puddle, but neither of you cared.

You weren’t sure when you’d stopped crying, but you had, sniffling and a sore throat but the tears no longer came, and Thomas shuffled before you. He leaned back a little, clothes clinging to his skin much like your own were, and you raised a hand from his shoulders to push the wet hair plastered to his forehead back and away from his eyes, his head twisting to press a kiss or his palm. You weren’t sure whether it was for your comfort or his, but it soothed you a little anyway.

His hand found your waistband, tugging lightly on the material as a finger slipped underneath, his eyes locked on your own with a silent question hidden inside, and when you gave him no resistance, his other hand joined. He popped the button delicately, tugging the zipper down, before inching those trousers further down your legs. Each movement he made revealed a new patch of skin, and he peppered occasional kisses over the fronts of your thighs as he moved, nose nudging against your skin, until you were stepping out of the trousers, a hand under his chin to pull him back up to his full height, and the rest of his body followed.

His skin felt hot against yours as your palms inched underneath his shirt, locking onto the bottom of his tee, before pulling it upwards. His hands raised over his head, allowing you to strip the material away from his body, ruined and sodden, joining your clothing on the floor. His hands were on your cheeks as soon as they dropped back down, pulling you forwards until he could let his lips meet your forehead. He pressed a kiss to every spot on your face, and every time he did, it was like he was pulling another piece of your fears and worries away from you, relieving you of the pain.

He gave you no hesitation when your hands found his belt, undoing it swiftly and tugging the leather from its loops, before his trousers were following, kicked away and discarded to the ground outside, tugging your vest out of his way so bare hands could smooth down over your sides, pulling you forward until he was holding you so close that the body heat rolling off of him flooded over your skin and gave you goosebumps.

His forehead rested to yours, and yet he never moved it further than that, sharing breath, lips brushing ever so slightly, a tingle felt right to your fingertips, but he didn’t kiss you.

It wasn’t the right time, and both of you knew it. It was a development that was inevitably coming, every snowball of affection added to the avalanche, dragging you both down with it, but it wasn’t time yet. This was a time of hurt and comfort, of seeking a moment of respite in one another’s embrace, and your hands wrapped around his body.

“Just hold me, Tommy,” it wasn’t a crashing realisation, nothing abrupt or sudden, but more of a peaceful revelation as his arms squeezed a little tighter around you, that Thomas had made himself a place in your life that you’d never be able to replace, “and don’t let me go.”

“I don’t plan to.” He whispered, lips pressed to the top of your head as comforting kisses were left there in the wake of his words. Tense muscles in his back relaxed under your touch before your hands were hooking onto his shoulders and your chest was pressing to his, hearts racing in matching beats, as he dragged you in closer.

His head dipped, face pressing into your neck the same way yours was in his, and his fingers spread out across your back.

You didn’t know how long you stood like that, minutes or hours seeming to slip by, the rhythmic fall of the water letting you slow your heart down, your chest rising and falling in synchronicity with Thomas’, his fingertips digging into your flesh as you clung to one another.

At some point, he moved, one hand leaving your body to reach out to the shelf, and find some soap. The later shifted between both of your bodies, his fingers moving through your hair with shampoo and conditioner to follow, and the dirt of the day sliding from your skin made everything feel a little easier to handle, less of a burden and more of a weight, shared with the man before you as he helped you to hold it up.

There was more, a whole team, willing to step in and help you bear the pressure if you’d just let them, and you wanted to do so. You were so scared to lose them but it was out of your control, and you couldn't do it alone, not any more.

When you finally felt like you had the power to give in, and to step back, the water was turned off, water dripping along your body and from the ends of your hair, before Thomas was reaching for a towel. He wrapped one around his waist, a blush rolling over your face and a subtle smirk on his lips as he did, the material sitting low against his hips, water still dripping along his body, and you tried not to follow any of the droplets as he stepped closer to you.

“Y’know, I didn’t think I’d get the honour of getting you undressed quite so soon.” Holding out another towel, he sealed it around your body, letting you tuck it tightly over your chest to hide the underwear you’d been left in, as you suddenly became overly aware of your near-nudity. Your jaw dropped a little, eyes going wide, and he chuckled at your panicked state, shaking his head and letting his fingers smooth down your arm until one of his hands was pressed loosely to yours. “Don’t worry, angel. I’m not looking. One day, you’re gonna’ ask me to, and I want that moment to be the special one.”

“Thank you, Tommy.” Your fingers laced with his, tugging him closer, and he dipped down, smiling softly as the tip of his nose dragged along your hairline. The door opened, Brenda coming to stare at you both, red-rimmed eyes and a soft smile, before she shrugged lightly.

“You want me to brush your hair for you?”

Something told you that the gesture would be just as comforting for her as it was for you; she was heartbroken, and undoubtedly chafing at the bit to get off shift and see Minho, but your heart soared at the idea that she might find comfort with you like you did with her, just like Thomas did, or anyone else. They were your family, and they needed you as much as you needed them.

You took a seat on the bench before her, and so opened up her locker, producing an assortment of bottles from inside. Her fingers ran over your scalp, separating the hair out as she sprayed something that smelled like watermelon over your scalp, working it through your hair, before following it with a plastic comb. Thomas had disappeared to get changed, and your fingers were gripping tightly to the edge of the towel, pulling at loose threads. It was a material you didn’t recognise, not yours, and you figured that the worn fabric must belong to Thomas, because his had been matching.

When he came back around the edges of the locker, you lifted your he'd, watching as Thomas inched yet another fresh t-shirt down over his body, shaking his head a little as damp stands got stuck, and you winced a little at a knot that tugged on the strands, Brenda whispering her apology.

“I’ll go and wait outside, alright?”

You nodded, your hand reaching up to grasp Thomas’ before he left, and he paused, waiting a moment and squeezing back, before smiling. He leaned down, lips brushing over the crown of your head, before he was walking past, and you could practically already hear the words she wanted to say. While you didn’t know what they were you could feel them hanging over your head as she brushed quietly, and the second the door fell shut to leave the two of you alone, she was letting them go;

“You’d be cute, y’know.”

You knew what she meant, but feigned confusion, despite it. “Who?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb.” She teased, poking you in the back of the head slightly with the comb, before she was bringing another chunk down to begin brushing through it. “I’ve known Thomas for a while, but I’ve never seen him like this. He really cares about you.”

“I care about him too.” You mumbled, and while you didn’t see it, you knew the smile that was on her face and could picture it in your mind. “I care about you, as well, Bren. I care about all of you.”

“We care about you too.” She finished her brushing, pulling the strands back out of your face, before she was picking up the next bottle. Some foam, you weren’t sure what for, but she added a few pumps of it onto her hands as she rubbed her palms together, before weaving it through your hair, and you relished in the simple touch of being cared for so gently. “We don’t blame you. Please don’t shut us out. You might not need us right now, maybe you’re used to doing things alone, but we need you.”

Tears pulled at your eyes again, and you turned to face her, finding her in much the same way as she blinked them back, her hands falling away to her sides. “I need you, Bren. I need you because you’re my best friend, the only best girl friend I’ve ever had, and the only person who takes me out for a wine evening, which I think I’m going to need, because I’ll need some girl advice at some point.”

She grinned, a watery and shaky smile, chin wobbling a little as she put her things away, before taking a seat on the bench before you, sniffling lightly. “I don’t think you’ll need the advice, have you seen the way he looks at you? I might be the one needing advice.”

You wiped at your cheeks, laughing lightly to avoid your shyness. “I noticed that you stayed the night at Minho’s last night, on a work night, no less.”

“How the hell would you know that?”

“I’m observant.” You teased, and her head ducked, giving her a moment to think over her words, you stood, opening your locker, and searching for a change of clothes. You weren’t shaking as much, and while you were technically still on duty for another hour, you were praying no more calls came in, because you were changing straight into your comfy clothes, a hoodie and some leggings, ignoring everything else, and switching out your underwear behind the door of your locker.

“Thank you for letting me be with him today.”

“You were helping me do my job, I should be thanking you!” You offered, clipping a fresh bra behind your back, before pausing, and staring into the locker at the t-shirt you had available. It was your house ‘21 emblem shirt, comfy cotton, and it felt soft under your touch, lifting it up to bring it over your head, and once you had, your hoodie was following.

“I know that you didn’t need my help, but you were trying to help me. That’s real friendship, thank you.” You just shrugged, pulling on a second pair of socks for comfort, and closing your locker, with your toothbrush and toothpaste in hand, the bitter taste of bile still in your mouth, and heading over to the sink. Switching on the tap and running your brush underneath, you added a dollop of the paste to the bristles, and began to scrub at your teeth.

It was relieving, to wash away the final elements of the breakdown that you’d had, and Brenda was kind enough to scoop up the still dripping articles of clothing on the floor as you did, and load them into a plastic basket. She offered to take them to the laundry room for you, but you had her leave them, saying you’d do it yourself, and then, you were left alone once again, promising you’d be out in a minute to find the team.

The reality was that you needed a moment to yourself, to process that for the first time ever, you had a team to turn to, people you could truly let your walls down around.

Balancing the basket on your hip as you left the room, you took it with you, drips of water left like a breadcrumb trail as you padded socked-feet across the bay, towards the laundry room. You weren’t sure how it should all be done, officially, whether there was a set temperature or cycle to set off the heatproof materials on, but you just dumped it all into a washer too tired to care, and taking a moment to clear your mind.

A scoop of some kind of European washing powder that Gally swore by, and the scent of florals filled the room as you added it. A splash of fabric softener, a few buttons beeping upon being pressed and the lid closing, and then the machine rattled to life as the sound of water rushing through the pipes bounced through the room. You left the basket propped up against the wall.

Newt was the first by your side upon entering the room, eyes wide as he wrapped you up into a hug, talking a mile and minute about how worried he was before cutting himself off with a hiccup, and you clung to him just as tightly, feeling him sag into your touch a little. “There was nothing that could be done.”

You were the only intended audience for the words, whispered into your ear as he hugged you, a hand petting your damp hair gently as it dried in the warm air, the heaters all turned up high for warmth, and the group were dotted around the room. “I know. I’m sorry for running off.”

“Are you okay?” He pulled back, eyes glossy like everyone else's, and you frowned, wiping his cheek to clear away a tear that fell.

“Are you?”

He shrugged, neither of you really knowing the answer to that question right now, but you did know that you would be. With the companionship of your team, your friends, your family, you would be just fine, as long as you allowed them to help you. You shook yourself off, Newt collapsing back down into his armchair, and everyone else seemed to have a place in the room. Brenda was sharing a couch with Jeff and Clint, Fry was sitting on the end of the couch beside Thomas and scrolling through the channels, a space left empty for you.

You glanced up, familiar eyes meeting yours, and he tipped his head lightly to the side in offering. You stared a moment longer, your feet carrying you more directly towards him, and he watched as you found yourself before the space, lifting his arms up as you collapsed down into it. You weren’t shy this time, or unsure about what it meant. You knew exactly what you wanted, and what it meant.

You wanted the safety of being in Thomas’ arms, the temporary relief from the emotional turmoil you had when he held you, to sync the beta of your heart up to his as it thudded under your cheek when you laid your head on his chest. Tipping your head up to see him, you didn’t care about anyone else right now, you didn’t care about anything else, because you were surrounded by the people who meant the most to you.

You saw the cut on his jaw again, running a finger over it, and you tried to push your mind back to before everything had happened, to before the pain. You were in the truck laughing with Brenda and Thomas and Zart, cheeks flush from the warmth of a joke made about your blossoming relationship with the lieutenant, and comment about a sweet gesture to be made. Leaning up, your lips followed your finger, pressing a soft kiss to the spot, and a breathy sound left Thomas as you did, before he was bringing his other hand up to thread into your hair and brush at the strands lightly.

“What was that for?”

“I was kissing it better.” You mumbled, his heart beating rapidly under your head, your fingers brushing and the cotton of his shirt, and Fry finally settled on a movie. He leaned down, a prolonged press of his lips to your temple, before he was nosing gently at the spot. It was far from the first kiss he’d given you today, but this one was different, because it was without anything else hanging over it. No tears, no desperation for comfort, simply a kiss, given in the company of all of your friends as though he had no care about who witnessed it. “What was that for?”

“I was kissing you better.”

#thomas #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #firefighter!tommy #ff!tommy #SAF #smoke and fire #thomas the maze runner #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader

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acourtofsnakes · 4 years ago

Text

E’tad - Rogue, Chapter 9| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: You are going about your time in Nevarro, completely unaware of the struggle and frantic journey the Mandalorian is making. Will he get there in time?

Warnings: A bit of violence/swearing, mentions of death/blood, alcohol/drinking

AN: I’m really sorry that this chapter isn’t as gripping as the others. I’ve been super overwhelmed lately and been struggling to get my ideas down into actual words. I’ve been working on this for way longer than the word count reflects and just wanted to get it out. You can still count on a cliffhanger ending though, of course ♥︎

Also, I’m sorry if there’s parts that aren’t canon. I definitely made up a couple of the planets and potentially bits of Nevarro.

Not yet beta read.

Word Count: 4832

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004

Mando’a translation: E'tad - seven

You’d been in Nevarro for a few days now.

Things were going... okay?

No. Things were going well. Really well. You felt safer here, knowing that Cara and Greef were monitoring who was coming and going and making sure they posed no threat to you.

There were a few tense moments, times when government officials came wandering past, but you always stayed hidden out of the way.

No one looked twice at you here – and if they did, it wasn’t for long.

When you first walked through the town, you found Cara and Greef waiting for you just inside the gates.

They were kind, welcoming too. Greef took your bag and welcomed you to the planet, whilst Cara smiled at you and shook your hand. You sensed that she was strong, determined and loyal to her cause and friends. She had a kindness in her eyes though, and it put you at ease.

These were Mando’s friends. He trusted them to take care of you, so that meant you’d be able to trust them too.

They had shown you around, giving you a tour of the places that you might need, like markets and small stores, but also the places to avoid.

When you’d had your tour, they showed you to a quaint building a short walk away from the centre of town.

There were only 4 floors to the building, and about 2 rooms on each floor. Stopping on the third floor, they had showed you where you’d be staying.

Cara had apologised for it being more on the minimal side, but you’d shaken your head quickly. This was more than you’d had in… years.

There was a little kitchenette area to prepare food, a lounge space with a slightly ragged looking armchair and table. To the right of the space was a curtained off sleeping area, containing a thin, but comfy looking cot and then just off of that a washing area. There was a decent-sized metal tub, big enough for you to be able to sit in and just extend your legs comfortably.

It might not have been grand, or spacious but it was a home. A place to come back to at the end of the day and be safe.

The two had left you to get settled, and you couldn’t help that sharp pang in your chest.

The Razor Crest had become a… sort of home to you over the last few weeks. It’s softly lit corridors and spaces, things crammed in everywhere but all mostly organised… the little compartment that had been your – well, the Mandalorian’s, - bed. The cockpit, where you spent most of your days either bantering with Mando or sitting in comfortable silence.

The kitchen area… his hands on your skin..

The weight of him behind you..

You missed him. And if you were honest, it still stung. That all of that had occurred between you and he was just getting rid of you.

No, maybe that wasn’t the right phrase. And nothing had really happened between you. Just an outpouring of tension. Besides, he was so warm, maybe he had been running a fever.

Mando had said that it was the only way to keep you safe.

And you knew that you were also attracting attention onto him and Grogu.

It still didn’t stop it from hurting any less.

~~~~~~~~~

-----7 Days Left-----

The Mandalorian made it back to his ship in record time. He didn’t waste precious minutes explaining to Peli. Just stating he had to go, thank you for the repairs and the last few days.

Seven days. He just seven days to get back, grab you, and flee.

Easy. He could do that easily.

Right?

He gave her a handful of credits, promising to come back soon.

He probably came across as rude, but he just couldn’t afford to wait.

You would have been on Nevarro for a little over a week now. He’d been with Peli for a good few days, and the travelling here had cost him about a day and a bit.

You were probably settled.

Maybe even.. happy?

His instincts were always right, and they were telling him that this guy, Haran, the shadow of Hell, had meant every single word. That if he found you before Mando did, you would never return.

Even if that happened, the Mandalorian would tear apart the galaxy to find you. There wouldn’t be a corner of space that Haran could hide that Mando wouldn’t get to. He would kill anyone who stood in his way, anyone who stopped him from reaching you.

The force of his determination nearly took his breath away as he switched on the ship, the engines roaring to life

Moments later, he was leaving Tatooine.

“I’m coming for you.”

~~~~~~~~~

After that initial first week of settling in, you found that things improved a great deal.

You knew your way around almost 100%, and frequently took walks around the town.

Cara had reassured you that you wouldn’t have to hide here, but on busier days it would be best to keep your hood up.

Just in case.

Despite the threat of someone slipping through their watchful eyes, you relaxed.

You worked with Cara sometimes during the days, going along with her for her Marshal duties and keeping things in order.

Other days, you spent time with Greef. You found him to be sort of… like an uncle in attitude. He was reassuring, and you enjoyed spending time with the both of them.

You’d even begun to help out in the local school. Karga had suggested it one day, mentioning in passing how the teaching droids might benefit with a pair of extra eyes and hands.

After making a few helpful comments, you had somehow established yourself as a teacher of survival. Not in the sense of, ‘this is how to disarm a bounty hunter who is coming at you whilst you’re sleeping., but more in the vein of, “Here’s how to find fresh water and a place to sleep.”

The kids loved it, especially when you staged imaginary scenarios for them and had them running about the place or creeping through ‘the undergrowth’.

It felt good. To be using these skills you’d been forced to learn for something positive, something that the kids enjoyed.

~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~

-----5 Days Left-----

Of course he had to stop for fuel.

He had forgotten to ask Peli to fill it up before he left. Mainly because they couldn’t get out there when the sandstorm had hit, and then because he had left so quickly.

He wanted to punch himself.

Maybe he would. It might make him feel better.

The Mandalorian stopped at the next closest planet, barely having turned the engines off before he was climbing out of the cockpit and making his way through the ship, Grogu secured in his little bag.

He was halfway down the ramp when he looked over his shoulder, to check that you and Duru were behind him.

Only to stop short, because you were no longer with him. Remember?

He sighed, ignoring the wrench of his heart and he walked through the landing bay.

A quick search revealed a man in a fuel operatives’ uniform.

Relief flooded Mando’s senses, and he hurried over, “Excuse me, would you be able to fill my ship? I’m sorry but I’m really in a hurry.”

The man looked up, wiping his hands on his uniform and he came over to Mando. “The Crest that just landed? Sure, I can fill her up right away, sir.”

Moments later, he had hooked up the necessary pipes and the ship was being pumped full of fuel.

It didn’t stop him from pacing though, checking the time on the large display inside the landing bay.

He was full of frantic energy, and he should probably stop pacing because he was going to make Grogu sick.

The operative looked up, tilting his head a little, “Forgive me, sir, but you look awful jittery. Is something wrong?”

The Mandalorian spun on the spot, looking at the man suspiciously.

Was he working for Haran? Was this a distraction?

Maybe he shouldn’t have come here.

Grogu gurgled at his side, and he didn’t need to bother translating. He was being stupid; the kid was right.

Mando sighed, curling his hands into fists and then uncurling them to try and release some tension. “Have you ever heard of the Shadow of Death?”

The man cursed, dropping the tool he was holding. He looked around quickly, his colourful face going pale with fear, “Sir! I beg you, please do not speak that name. Even mentioning it can summon him here.”

The Mandalorian couldn’t hide the surprise form his voice, “You believe in him then?”

The worker nodded slowly, motioning Mando over. When he was close enough, the man said quietly, “I’ve seen his… work.”

A chill skittered over Mando’s bones, “You’ve seen… someone he’s killed?”

A green sheen had come over the operatives face, “Yes, sir. I’ve seen it firsthand and I still wake up screaming even today.”

The Mandalorian tilted his head, “Many people believe he’s a myth, thought up by the darkest of people to cover their tracks.”

“That creature is not a myth, sir. He came for my sister and her family. She ran, but he was waiting at the safe house for her.” The man’s eyes became hazy with memory. “I don’t know how he knew. She had told no one where she was going. Not even me. They had never uttered the location aloud, not even to each other. They wrote it down. Just in case he was in the walls, listening.” The man swallowed roughly once, twice.

“When we got there, there was nothing left to bury. Just clothes, a few strands of hair and blood coating the walls. It was like something from a nightmare. There were only a few… chunks left of them. They could never identify who was who.” He heaved a little, then turned grave eyes onto the Mandalorian.

“If you know someone he wants, you’d be best of killing them yourselves. It would be a lot kinder.”

~~~~~~~~~

-----2 Days Left-----

The Mandalorian was getting frantic.

And with his frantic haste, came messiness.

He didn’t know it was taking him so damn long to get to Nevarro. He should have been there three days ago. Hell, he should never have left you there.

There had been a nebula on the way out of the planet. It hadn’t come up on his radar until the last moment and he had to swerve to get around it, which cost him a detour he couldn’t afford. He couldn’t risk jumping into hyperspeed until he was clear either.

Though it had taken too long, he eventually cleared it.

He was close, so close. He’d been about to make the jump when two X-wing’s had come out of nowhere and started to chase him down. He’d tried to get them away, tried to shake them off but they’d forced him down into some icy planet.

He’d nearly crashed the ship, nearly lost Grogu because the little womp rat decided to climb out of his seat as Mando tried to land and then the engines had cut out because they got too cold.

And now he was cold. Fucking freezing in fact.

Tracking through the snow and the ice, looking for the two pilots to get rid of them so he could be back on his way to finding you.

With each movement of the sun, he became more and more painfully aware of how slow he was.

He was never this slow. Never this sloppy. He needed to calm down and clear his head, but the words of the fuel operative kept ringing in his head.

“That creature is not a myth, sir. He came for my sister and her family. She ran, but he was waiting at the safe house for her.

When we got there, there was nothing left to bury. Just clothes, a few strands of hair and blood coating the walls.

If you know someone he wants, you’d be best of killing them yourselves. It would be a lot kinder.”

He gritted his teeth as a shudder shook his body, and not from the cold.

You wouldn’t end up like that.

He’d find you. You would be fine.

Noise broke through his thoughts, the sounds of the pilots and he slipped behind a snowpile and sunk down to wait.

~~~~~~~~~

Okay. So maybe the last few days weren’t going as well as they could have been.

You were embarrassed to admit it, but at least two of them were spent drunk, and the third was spent in a state of hungover blurriness.

Pinpointing the exact trigger was hard.

It might have been the horrific nightmares that begun 4 days ago, or it might have been the conversation you had with Cara that day.

You’d been sitting in the cantina, just talking after a day of work and she had begun to ask about your past. Nothing invasive, nothing forcing you to answer but something in you had wanted to spill some of the burden.

She’d asked you where you learned your survival skills, and you thought about lying but… something stopped you. So, you’d told her. At least, as much as you could without revealing the real reason.

You told her about the murder of your parents. How the market had been attacked that day, and you could do nothing to stop them dying.

You told her how you’d run, spending two days hiding in a waste dump, crying and vomiting with fear and the horror of what you’d seen. How you’d dragged yourself out, and started your journey of planet hopping and hitching rides.

Cara had asked what you did to get people coming after you, and you simply told her they thought you’d been responsible for the market attack, and the murders of the friends you’d made because people always seemed to die around you.

You told her how it had forced you to not be able to trust anyone, to only be able to rely on yourself and how you had to learn to survive.

It hadn’t been easy. You had made yourself sick countless times, including one really bad week where you ate some questionable vegetables and spent four days in a hallucinating stupor, convinced you were dying.

She’d laughed at that and returned the favour by telling you about her shock trooper days. The fact they were dumped in on their own to hunt the warlords, being exposed to horrors that only you and few others could understand.

The pair of you had spent the evening sharing stories, dancing around the subject of a certain beskar-clad hunter and his child. You couldn’t go there, couldn’t talk about it.

She probably gathered all the information she needed from your lack of response though, by the look in her eye and the smirk when she mentioned him.

That night might have been the cause of the horrific nightmare where you were convinced you’d just watched the Mandalorian and Grogu be torn to shreds by your own power. You’d woken up screaming, tasting their blood like that night and barely made it to the small bathroom area before vomiting.

That was the last night you’d remembered before getting drunk.

You supposed you were ashamed of yourself.

You were giving in to feelings you’d spent years repressing.

You were wallowing.

You’re hurting. You’re allowed to let go of the pain sometimes, to feel it. You can’t keep going like the ice queen all the time.

How you hated that inner voice of reason.

~~~~~~~~~

-----1 Day left-----

His gloves were soaked with melted snow, sticking to his skin and freezing again instantly, no matter how many times he tried to warm them. It made his movements slow and fumbly as he desperately worked to fix the engine of his ship.

He’d tried to take off as soon as he’d gotten rid of the pilots, but as soon as he’d started the engines, they died with no more than a puff of smoke.

They were frozen.

Snow and ice had gotten into the rotors and they wouldn’t start long enough for him to heat them up.

He was stuck here.

Grogu was freezing.

Mando had left him inside the cockpit with the doors shut, bundled in all the blankets he could find in the ship. The heaters weren’t working, and the backup generator barely provided enough heat to stop the windows from icing over.

He made a frustrated noise as he dropped his tools, stooping down to scoop them out of the snow.

He had to get this working. He had to fix this and get to you.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, you rose, dressed and returned to work.

You apologised for your previous behaviour and threw yourself into your daily tasks with a determination that might have been bordering on insanity.

You were eager to wipe away the shame of the past few days, so you spent the day doing every single job you could find and more. Even going out into the town on your lunch break to help around the markets and local small stores.

It kept the thoughts at bay, the guilt and the shame, and also the relentless longing that plagued you.

~~~~~~~~~~

-----12 hours left-----

The sun had set long ago.

He was working by the small light on his helmet now.

It was barely enough to see in front of his face, but he couldn’t stop. Even though he couldn’t feel his feet, or his hands. Or any of his body, actually.

He couldn’t let you die.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was the end of the day.

You had just finished your work, helping Cara with maintaining things around town, dealing with the odd shady traveller that passed through looking for trouble.

She knew your skills, that you were ruthless, quick and knew your way around a blade well enough to scare someone off.

It was why you had started training with her a few days ago, before the drunken haze.

You’d showed up to her office after a night of screaming dreams, shattered, wound up and tense.

She’d taken one look at you, then taken you out the back to a big empty plot and begun to train with you. And it had worked. Sparring with someone and having to focus had helped you channel that anxious energy.

It was a regular occurrence now, which was why you were engaged in another session with her.

Greef had come to watch this afternoon, and sat on one of the huge, jagged hunks of rock that littered the volcanic planet.

It didn’t put you off, you were too focused as you ducked under Cara’s punch, twirling around her body and delivering a sharp kick to her kidneys that had her coughing. You couldn’t help the chuckle, lightly springing back a few steps as she spun to face you, “Oh come on, you practically invited me to kick you.”

Cara rolled her eyes, advancing toward you, “And you were foolish enough to take it.” She flew into another attack on you, which you matched punch for punch, like you knew the moves she was going to take without her saying.

You wondered if it had something to do with your power, some instinct from it. You still felt its presence more often than not lately, since that night it had helped you save the Mandalorian. You’d tried to push it back, but it was calling to you more and more recently.

Shaking the thoughts free of your head, you focused back on fighting, pouring everything into it and letting go of all that nervous energy.

You practically floated across the ashy ground, moving around her like you were breathing.

It wasn’t quite the choreographed, effortless fighting you and Mando had engaged in, but it was still something.

Dimly, you heard Greef laugh, clapping. “I never quite knew what Mando meant when he told us you fought like you were dancing, but I completely understand now.”

You froze, just managing to lift a hand and block Cara’s swing to your face, “What? He said that?” You looked over your shoulder, eyebrows raised in shock.

Karga nodded quickly, “Oh, yes! When he was telling us about the first time you met, and when you saved his life. He said he’d met more fighters in his life than he could remember, but you stood out most of all. ‘She fights like she’s dancing. Like she’s moving to a song of death only she can hear. It was mesmerising’ That’s what he told us.”

Mesmerising.

He’d really said that about you? Complimented you like that to his friends when you weren’t around?

It made your heart constrict and a sort of warm feeling spread through your veins.

Unfortunately, it also made you distracted.

Which gave Cara the opportunity to slam her knee into your back and knock you to the ground. “Stop getting doe-eyed over the Mandalorian and focus.” She was laughing, standing over you.

Your cheeks flushed slightly but you snarled, flipping on your back and pulling out her ankles. “I don’t get doe-eyed.”

~~~~~~~~~~

-----2 hours left---

The Mandalorian had never been this cold.

He was still outside, and a snowstorm had begun now.

His poor visibility was even worse, and it seemed to take him twice as long to do anything.

It was like the commands he sent from his brain to his hands were slogging through the thick snow.

His armour had long since frozen over, and every time he moved, ice cracked and fell from the crevice’s.

He didn’t know how long he could do this for.

He didn’t know if Grogu was still alive.

He didn’t know if you were still alive.

Haran may have gone back on his words and come after you anyway. You might have been dead for days already.

No.

No, he couldn’t let himself think that.

He had to keep going. He had to…

He had to rest…

He was cold. So very cold that he almost felt warm.

A mournful cry of wind shot through him, sucking the little energy from his body in a sub-zero blast and his knees gave out, dumping him in the snow.

Get up.

He couldn’t.

~~~~~~~~

“Good fighting today. You were a lot more focused. Well, mostly.” Cara leaned against the doorway to your building, crossing her arms and grinning again.

You rolled your eyes, “Thanks so much. The bruise I have on my back will forever remind me of your compliments.”

She laughed, raising an eyebrow, “And the pain in my kidney’s will remind of yours.” She tilted her head, watching you, “Why did it throw you so much?”

You pretended not to know what she was talking about, “Me kicking you in the kidneys?”

Cara gave you a deadpan look, knowing what you were doing, “No. What Greef said about Mando. You looked shocked.”

You swallowed, looking down and pretending to examine your boots and you pulled out an easy shrug, “I just didn’t expect a compliment like that from him. The first time we fought, we were both trying to kill each other, and the second time he saw me, he was half-unconscious. I didn’t think he remembered.”

Whether she saw through your lie or not, she thankfully didn’t press it. “Well… He can shock you sometimes, trust me.” She stood up straight, pushing away from the wall “I’ll see you later for dinner?”

Relief flooded through you and you nodded, able to meet her gaze now, “Sure, dinner sounds great. I’ll come by after a drink.”

~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~

-----0 Hours Left-----

He was too late.

~~~~~~~~~

You were still thinking about what Greef said as you made your way into the cantina, Duru asleep back in your room.

It had become a popular haunt for you whilst being here. You wondered if you might be starting to have a problem.

But the chatter of the different people and creatures provided an ambiance that kept the wandering thoughts at bay.

When you were alone and still, you had a habit of straying to the Mandalorian and Grogu.

His last words kept echoing in your head, that you might see each other soon.

When, Lori? Soon isn’t close enough.

You sighed to yourself as you slid onto a seat at the bar. You seriously needed to have an intervention with yourself. You didn’t pine like this. You didn’t get soft and sentimental.

You couldn’t afford to, not the way you lived.

But we aren’t on the run anymore. At least not like we used to be…

You ignored that voice in your head, the one that threatened to speak sense. Luckily, the droid that was serving as the bartender came over, placing your usual drink in front of you.

You nodded in thanks, pulling it toward you. Maybe it wasn’t such a good thing that the droid knew your drink without asking.

Then again… it was a droid. It was probably built into its hardware. It didn’t mean that you were an alcoholic. Although, your drunken stupor went against that argument.

You brushed your hand over the bar in front of you, getting rid of the layer of volcanic ash that settled over everything. Every night you found it in your hair, under your clothes and even in your boots. It didn’t bother you much though. Over the years, you’d become used to it, being covered in dirt or grime.

Except when you were on the Crest.

You shook your head slightly at yourself. You weren’t going to go there.

You could do what you wanted to on the Crest. You didn’t have to be covered in dirt or ash or mud. You were clean. Rested. Warm.

Do not go there.

You had company. Friends, even.

You blew out a breath, taking a big gulp of your drink. It didn’t matter now anyway. You were here. You didn’t know how long you were to stay for, but this was your new… home.

But it doesn’t feel like home. It’s not cosy. It doesn’t smell the same. You can’t hear the sounds of the engine, or Grogu or Mando.

Maker, you had to find a way to shut that voice up. Maybe you’d knocked something lose back when you fought the guy with a tail. Things hadn’t been right in your head since then.

Since you saved the Mandalorian’s life?

“Shut up!!” You didn’t realise you’d hissed the words out loud until a nearby trader gave you a funny look.

Brilliant, now you looked drunk or possibly crazy.

You dropped your head into your hands, rubbing your eyes. You needed to get over yourself.

And the Mandalorian.

When you lifted your glass back to your lips, you noticed that your drink was already done.

Whoops. Definitely looking more drunk than crazy now.

You looked up, raising your hand for another drink regardless and when the droid placed it in front of you, you slid over the required credits.

Only for it to push them back, “Your drinks have already been paid for, miss.”

You blinked in confusion at its monotone voice, “By who? I asked Cara and Greef not to touch my tab.” You had wanted to pay for it yourself. They refused to take any money in payment for you room, so you had managed to negotiate any expenses you racked up elsewhere – such as here.

The droid looked at you with its expressionless robotic face, “They were not paid for by Marshal Dune or Greef Karga. Please, take the credits.”

You reached out, slowly dragging them back and putting them back inside the inside pocket of your cloak, “Who paid for it then?” You couldn’t help the insistent tone to your voice, even if it would be lost on the droid.

Before it could answer, your question was answered.

“I did.”

The voice that came from behind you was silken, rising over the din background noise of the cantina. It caressed over your bones, those two simple words dripping like honey. Something tugged inside of you, pulled at that buried kernel of power.

You turned on your stool, looking for the owner of such a magnetic voice.

There, behind you, sat a figure.

Decked in an expensive looking cloak lined with golden thread, lounging back in his seat like he didn’t have a care in the world. You could see the edge of a hilt peeping above broad shoulders, something drawing you to look at it but you couldn’t see it properly.

You blinked again, raising an eyebrow, “Sorry?”

The figure leant forward, “I paid for your drinks.” He lifted a pair of gloved hands and pushed back his hood.

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#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #rogue #force #star wars

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nothing-but-dreamy · 3 years ago

Text

CRASH

Pairing: FFXV! NYX ULRIC x GENDER NEUTRAL!READER

Words: 2.050

Warnings: none;

Summary: One morning on your way to work, you crash into a cute guy not expecting seeing him again in the evening.

You were running late. Again. There was no way your boss would buy another lame excuse if you wouldn't hurry. Maybe, if one of the six would be with you, you still could make it on time. If you were fast. Well, faster than fast. Maybe fast like a chocobo…

You were so deep in your thoughts with your eyes glued at your phone that you barely noticed anything around you. You knew the way. Blindly. Flying down the different streets in the heart of the city for two years. You knew every single light signal, every street sign and every building by heart.

What you didn't know was that big rocks could suddenly emerge from the ground because as you ran into something it felt as if you were slamming straight into a massive wall made of stone. You bumped into it, bouncing back from the rock before you fell.

But there was no impact on the ground…

"Hey, it's okay. I got you. You can open your eyes.", a soft male voice spoke close to your ear.

Only then, you felt two strong arms embracing your waist. As you raised your gaze, you got greeted by ocean blue eyes filled with concern, "The… the rock can speak.", you breathed startled, '...And is handsome as hell.', you thought further.

"Excuse me, what did you say?", the man asked confusedly and checked on you. He had noticed that the impact had been hard, you were straight crashing into him with some kind of speed, but it shouldn't cause any real trouble for your health.

You shook your head quickly to get your mind under control again, "I- I'm sorry.", you breathed, showing the man, who steadied your stand, a huge smile, "Thanks for catching me so quickly."

"It was my pleasure- hey, where are you going?", the man asked surprised.

You were already back on your way, "I'm sorry. I have to go. But it was nice crashing into you.", you called out before you hurried down the street.

Nyx stepped forward, following you but stopped again as his feet kicked at something. A small smartphone slid over the stones of the pavement. Nyx caught it before it could fall on the street and would get hit by a car.

Without a second thought, Nyx ran after you, trying to catch up but as he turned the corner of a coffee shop, you were already out of sight.

***

"Hey, what is that? Fancy new phone?", Libertus asked as he sat next to his friend.

Once again, Nyx nudged the display to turn it on. A picture of you with a cat showed up. Your eyes were sparkling and your smile breathtakingly beautiful. Only the little box with the PIN request threw a shadow of the image, "Actually, I… I found it this morning. It's theirs.", he said and pointed at the picture that glowed up again.

Libertus turned the phone over, "Looks cute. Seems to have money if they can afford such an expensive thing."

"Yeah…", Nyx breathed and frowned. It was indeed the newest model and didn't even have one scratch. And even if he had been distracted by your eyes and smile, he had noticed your expensive looking clothes, your styled hair and even the fancy shoes.

"But… Why do you have their phone?", Libertus asked.

Nyx got brought back from the daydreaming about you, "They crashed into me this morning. I guess they were on their way to work because they left pretty fast. I found the phone on the ground and ran after them but they were already out of sight.", he explained.

"Have you tried to find a number?", Libertus asked.

Nyx chuckled dryly, turning on the display once again, pointing at it, "What do you think this is, huh?"

"A cat.", Libertus answered, not getting the reason behind the question.

Nyx leant back in his chair while running a hand over his face, "I meant the PIN. I need a PIN to unlock the phone or otherwise, I don't have access."

"Oh... Well, but maybe Pelna can help-"

"Glaives! Into the briefing room!", Captain Drautos called out and within seconds your phone disappeared back into the pocket of Nyx' uniform jacket.

Unfortunately, it stayed there for the rest of the day…

***

Nyx was bushed. Because everything was pretty calm at the moment with no new attacks on Insomnia by Niflheim, Nyx and the other Glaives should train to stay focused. At the end of the day, Nyx scuffed into the locker room completely exhausted. He sat down on a bench and raked his fingers through his hair to relax a little bit.

"Hey, Nyx! Libertus! Wanna stop at Yamachang's?", Luche asked.

Nyx nodded without looking up. To get something to eat and to drink would be nice after a full day of training.

"Haven't you forgotten something?", Libertus asked and nudged Nyx' shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"The fancy phone you found? Or do you wanna keep it after all?", Libertus asked with a grin, knowingly exactly that Nyx wouldn't do something like this.

Nyx' head shot up as he remembered, "Fuck… I totally forgot the phone!", he whispered and jumped up.

"Where are you going?", Luche called out, looking confused after his friend.

"I have to find Pelna!"

***

Thirty minutes later, Nyx had the address of your place. Once again, Pelna had worked his magic when it came to technology and information. Very quickly, Pelna found out your name and that you lived in the heart of the city not far away from the point where you had crashed into Nyx.

So, Nyx was on his way to get to your place. He was sure you would be grateful to get your phone back. He cursed himself that he had forgotten about it the whole day and hoped you wouldn't be too mad.

Accompanied by many pedestrians which were going home or into bars, Nyx made his way through the streets and was taken aback as he found himself in front of one of these high, luxurious looking apartment buildings.

Maybe Libertus was right and you had indeed a lot of money. Nyx swallowed nervously as he stepped through the entrance. The lobby was decorated with a bunch of plants and framed paintings. Even a leather couch stood at one wall. His boots made soft noises on the marble floor.

A couple was staring at him suspiciously. People like Nyx weren't liked to be seen in such places. For everyone, it was okay that he and the others risked their lives to fight for safety but at the end of the day, the refugees should stay where they belonged: in the underground.

Nyx hurried over to a board with names and searched for yours. He found it quickly. You lived on the eight floor and moments later, Nyx stood in one of the elevators with mirrored walls and a golden handrail.

Nerve-wracking slowly, the elevator brought Nyx to the floor he wanted. There was something strange when he walked through buildings and streets like these. It wasn't just that he was an outsider for all of them. It was rather just not his world. Even back in Galahd, such luxury wasn't common and so, he felt misplaced.

Nyx walked down the hallway while taking out your phone. He looked at the shining material. This was your world. You lived like this and maybe you didn't even know something other than having money.

As he reached your door with the golden apartment number, Nyx just needed to knock. He could knock and you would open the door. Maybe accusing him of stealing your phone. Maybe yelling at him that he needed the whole day to bring you the phone back. Or, you would call him stalker because he had tracked you down.

One last time, Nyx turned on the display and looked at the cute picture of you with the cat in your arms. Both of you looked so happy. You looked so nice and sweet. And even this morning, you had been nice to Nyx. At least, you hadn't been unfriendly.

As the display went off again, Nyx saw his mirrored expression on the surface. He saw his tattoos and braids and knew that this was not his world. So, he did the only thing that came to his mind: placing the phone in front of your door and to leave.

"Minka, what is- you!", you said surprised as you opened the door, seeing the cute guy from the morning in front of you. The whole day, he had occupied your thoughts and now, he was there.

Nyx looked up and greeted you with a shy smile. You stood in your doorframe, holding the door in your hand before you opened it even a bit more, "Hey, uhm… I- I found your phone this morning. You know...after our crash.", he stammered and presented the smartphone in his hands to you.

You stared at him and then at his hand for several moments before you jumped against the unknown man, snaking your arms around his neck to squeeze him tightly, "Oh, god bless! I had no idea where I'd lost it! You're heaven-sent!", you said over excitedly. Suddenly, you remembered what you were doing and so, slightly sheepishly, you stepped back again, "I- I'm sorry. I know, boundaries. It was just... I'm so lost without my phone. The day was a living hell.", you said softly.

"I'm sorry that it took me so long to bring it back. The day was a bit … busy.", Nyx said, scratching the back of his neck. He still felt bad for forgetting the phone at all.

You waved his apology aside. You knew what it meant to have a rough day. Only then, you noticed what the man in front of you was wearing, "You… you're a Kingsglaive.", you whispered in awe.

Nyx saw your astonished and excited expression and took the opportunity, "Yes, I am. Nyx Ulric at your service.", he said with a smile as you were still gaping at him.

As you noticed that you were still staring, you swallowed, "I’m sorry… It’s just that.. I'm such a big fan of you all. I mean, what you do for this city … we all owe you so much.", you said honestly.

Nyx was taken aback, "A fan? Never met one before to be honest."

"I know. You guys don't get appreciated enough. At least, not as much as you all deserve it. But- wait! I have an idea. Come in. Have dinner with me. Please.", you asked as you saw Nyx' refusing expression.

"Thank you. But it's not necessary.", he said politely even if he wanted to say something else. He would love to spend more time with you and your light attitude that made his heart jump a little.

"Please. You rescued me and my phone. You even brought it back. Plus the things you do as a Glaive. Inviting you in is the least I can do to thank you.", you tried to convince Nyx with your winning smile.

"I… I don't know. It wouldn’t be right…", Nyx said and just meant it half-heartedly.

"Please.", you begged, "If you leave, I just have Minka for company."

Nyx chuckled and even if he already sensed the answer, he asked anyway, "Who's Minka?"

"My cat.", you answered, looking down at the stripy, little troublemaker sitting next to your feet.

Nyx followed your glance and chuckled, "But she looks sweet.", he said amused as the cat tilted its head.

"Oh, she's sweet. Most the time. As long as you have food. No food, no sweetness. Trust me, she will turn into a vicious monster if she wants to.", you whispered conspiratorially.

Nyx was hooked. He liked your eyes, your smile and you were funny. The whole package was simply perfect. In fact, he didn't want to leave so quickly, "Did you say vicious monster? If that's so, I guess, I should accept your invitation. I mean, someone has to protect you."

"And who would be better for this job as an honorable Glaive.", you said with a huge grin, stepping aside to let Nyx into your apartment, into your life and into your world.

#nyx ulric x female reader #nyx #nyx ulric x gender neutral reader #nyx ulric x male reader #final fantasy nyx ulric #kingsglaive nyx #ff15 nyx ulric #nyx ulric x reader #nyx ulric #final fantasy xv #final fantasy kingsglaive #male reader #female reader #gender neutral fanfic #gender neutral reader

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alexboehm55144 · 3 years ago

Text

Alex Final Wars 2: Dark Alex, Chapter 39 - Before The Storm

"So what did you guys get out of the stuff we pulled from that Chinese base? One that was apparently supposed to be impenetrable." Nick asked before muttering to himself. "Heh, they were no match for this sly fox."

"We went to hell and back to get that stuff," Judy said.

"Thing is… we don't know yet," Jack responded. "There was a lot of information on those maps and papers you guys pulled. It will take time for the eggheads to go through it all."

"I have to say I really respect the analysts," Skye noted. "I mean, how much stuff have they looked at from just Heroes alone?"

The four mammals were sitting in Jack and Skye's Aston Martin as they drove through the busy Zootopian streets. Nick and Judy were in the back seats while the two ZIA agents sat upfront. All around the car, mammals moved and went about their business as the city entered the evening. Most mammals were probably heading home as the sky began to dim. While others were getting ready for a night on the town.

"You guys over at Heroes have recovered a ton of intelligence throughout this war." Jack said, "Servers, documents, maps. Knowledge is power."

"Yeah, that is true," Judy responded. "I can't believe how much action we've seen. This is a lot more than a normal day at the ZPD."

"Hey, sometimes things are pretty action-packed at the ZPD," Nick said. "There's a lot of dangerous crooks and thieves out there. Though none of them as crafty and talented as this sly fox."

This got a chuckle out of Judy.

"And here we are!" Jack said.

The car pulled into a parking lot of a one-story building with Japanese architecture. The walls were made of white-colored stone with wooden support pillars, covered by a pagoda-style roof made of matte green tiles. Mounted on the front wall was a red and white light-up sign that said:

"Tanukchi, Japanese Grill."

"Well, we'll certainly be eating good tonight!" Nick said, the four mammals stepping out of the car.

"Isn't this place pretty high-end?" Skye asked. "How did you get a reservation?"

"Well… heh…" a slightly mischievous look crossed Judy's face. "I may have let it slip that we were brave ZPD officers, and you two were selfless ZIA agents."

"Clever bunny," Nick said.

"And… I may have also mentioned that we were war heroes."

Sky and Jack laughed.

"Well, at least you got us a nice dinner," Jack said before the group headed inside the restaurant.

Inside the building, the walls were made of wood and paper, resembling traditional Japanese walls. However, there were also support pillars made of marble-like, red-colored rock with messy streaks of white running through it. A short distance from the two glass doors was a desk made out of bamboo, behind which was a fish tank teeming with aquatic life. The entire restaurant was filled with the sounds of people chatting and the metal clang of cooking equipment being used.

"Reservation for Hopps," Judy said to the fox behind the desk, prompting the mammal to check her computer.

"Hopps…. Ah! Right, this way!" The fox said, grabbing four menus and leading the two couples into the dining area. There were 4 grills, 2 for smaller mammals, 2 for larger mammals, set up in the dining area, each surrounded by stained wooden chairs. Above each grill was a vent to the outside. On the walls of the room were paintings of trees and natural landscapes.

The waitress handed out menus as the group sat down at a grill for smaller mammals. "Would you like to order your drinks now?"

Nick got a soda while Jack went for an ice tea. Judy had carrot juice, and Skye got water. The fox waitress left to get their drinks and appetizers.

"You know, it kind of surprises me how quickly life has got back to normal here," Skye said. The fox looked around at the families and groups laughing and enjoying their meals. "You would never have thought that a short time ago, this city was under assault by the Chinese military."

"I know," Judy said. "It's almost like a distant memory to everyone. But I suppose they're just looking ahead towards a brighter future."

"And the future is bright," Jack said. "We're really pressing hard on the PLA now. But regarding what you said, there are plans to make a memorial to commemorate the Chinese attacks on the city. The full-scale assault, the airship strike, and the concert."

"Well, I hope that helps the citizens of Zootopia remember what happened. And that we must be vigilant against those who want to hurt us."

"Hmm… well, we should get some fried rice," Nick said, perusing over the menu.

"Heh, thinking with your stomach, I see." Judy chuckled.

"I agree," Jack responded. "let's get some fried rice."

The waitress returned with drinks, as well as salads and miso soups for everyone. She also took their orders for meals.

"A chef will be with you shortly."

The waitress left, and the group began to enjoy their appetizers.

"Wow, this is really good," Jack said, trying the salad.

"Hopps told me this place is highly rated," Nick said, sipping the soup. "You did a good job getting us this reservation."

"I agree." Skye said, "thank you, Judy."

Judy smiled "aww, guys are too sweet."

A few moments later, a tanuki wearing a traditional chef's uniform came over to the grill with a small cart of ingredients and tools.

"Hello! Welcome!" The chef said, going over the group's order. "Let's get started!"

The tanuki started up the grill and began to cook the various vegetables for the fried rice. Skye took out her phone and captured the exciting moment in a video while the chef performed tricks. He spun his spatula and tools around in his hand and juggled an egg for the rice.

The chef then set up an onion volcano, filled it with edible oils, and lit it on fire. A tower of flame shot out of the small volcano, eliciting gasps from the officers and agents watching the show.

"Dinner and a show," Skye said.

The tanuki chef finished the fried rice, taking a small portion of the rice on his spatula and launching it in the air towards Jack. The rabbit opened his mouth to catch it, but it just bounced off his nose onto the floor.

The chef tried again, & this time Jack caught the portion of rice in his mouth. All the while, the other mammals laughed and watched the spectacle.

The tanuki then launched a portion of rice at Nick, who managed to catch it in his mouth on the first try.

Judy laughed clapped a little as Nick looked smug that he got it first try.

"We should hang out more often," Jack said as the chef began to serve the fried rice.

"I agree. It's just that we've been busy lately." Nick chimed in. "But when the four of us hang out, it's always fun."

000

"Come on, Toothdee, you'll enjoy it!" Laval said. "Arcades are fun. Although in Chima the arcades are usually less tech-savvy… but… same principles apply."

"I don't know…." Toothdee said, looking over some maps and papers in her room. "The end of this war is in sight, and I want to focus on my work so we can make the final decisive push to end this conflict once and for all."

"Hey, we've got them on the backfoot." Eris said, "besides, we're on shore leave right now. It's not the time to work. It's time to rest and recuperate."

"Yeah, you can't just keep fighting constantly. Evening though I do think that would be fun, you'll get worn out." Laval noted.

"Oh, alright, fine." The Heroes commander said, getting up from her desk and grabbing her phone and wallet. "Let's go."

"Great!" Eris said. "Laval spotted a place just down the road, within walking distance."

"Well, lead the way, Laval."

The trio left the typhoon and headed out of the guarded compound where the airship landed. The landing zone was in the city, giving Heroes good access to any part of Zootopia they needed to reach in the event of an emergency.

However it was not right in the center of the city, instead situated near the airport. This was to avoid buildings acting as flying obstructions and to cut down on noise pollution.

"You guys really love exploring Zootopia, don't you? Getting out and seeing the sights." Toothdee said as they walked.

"Totally!" Eris said. "It's a gorgeous city. I can see why Nick and Judy love it here."

"Yeah, I love exploring, so it's great to get a whole new city to explore!"

After a few minutes of walking, the group arrived at a building with big glass windows and a bright blue sign that said "arcade" on the front.

The inside of the building was dark, lit mainly through light from gaming machines. The air was filled with the sounds of said machines. Various boops and chimes were used to attract customer's attention. The floor was covered in a dark blue carpet, and a tired-looking mountain lion sat at a desk near the door.

The trio walked over to the desk, and the mountain lion didn't flinch upon seeing an evolved eagle.

"Hi, can we each get a card with $30 on it, please?" Toothdee said, "that seems reasonable, right?"

"Works for me," Eris said.

Each member of the group took out the required money and placed it on the counter. The cashier nodded and quickly transferred the money to 3 plastic cards that could be used to purchase games from the machines.

"Thank you," Laval said, the group heading towards the machines.

"What are you going to play first?" Toothdee asked.

"Uh… hm, well, I've seen this before," Laval said, walking over to a skeeball machine. "Now Chima does have games like this."

"I'll play against you!" Eris said, standing in front of a second Skee-ball device next to Laval.

"Alright! Your on!"

The couple slid their cards through readers on the machines, and balls were dispensed in return. As the two started rolling the hard plastic skeeballs down the length of the device, Toothdee went to examine some other games.

She spotted an arcade game with a large screen, and fake plastic guns hooked up to it. Across the top of the machine were the words "Terminator" along with a scary-looking robot head. Toothdee went over to the arcade machine and paid for a game before picking up one of the weapons. She could also keep her skills sharp while having fun.

The young warrior selected a level and began. Terminator robots appeared on screen and engaged. But toothdee fired the toy weapon at the screen, and the terminators in-game were struck down by gunfire.

As her character continued to move through the game world, gunning down robots, toothdee heard Laval and Eris behind her.

"Yes!" The eagle said. "I win! Don't worry, I know you let me win on purpose."

"I thought YOU were going to let ME win." Laval chuckled.

The pair came over to watch Toothdee, who continued to gun down terminators, even as her own player character took damage. Eventually, a game over screen appeared, and toothdee put the plastic toy gun back down on the machine.

"You know what's funny is most of the stuff here we can do for real," Laval said. "That motorcycle racing game over there? I can just hop on my speedor. That game you were playing where you shoot robots? You could just get a gun and charge into battle!"

"Heh, well, why don't you do that then?" Toothdee asked.

"Well, fighting can be fun. But it's nice just to do it… what's the word I'm looking for… Fictitiously! Without any worries, where you just have to get points."

"Alright, I can understand that. Now, what do you want to play next?" Toothdee said, turning towards the rows of game cabinets. "You guys were right. It is good to get out and relax once in a while."

000

Haida looked at a map on his phone and struggled to figure out where he was in relation to the roads and structures on the map.

"I'm telling you it's this way," Fabienne said, pointing down a roadway. "Trust me, I know this city."

"But it looks like it's this way on the map!" Haida said, pointing down a different street."

"It's not! Your just looking at it wrong!"

"Retsuko, what do you think?"

The red panda, who had been patiently watching the two argue, looked at Haida's phone. The hyena smirked, expecting his girlfriend to agree with him. Plus, he was pretty confident his examination of the map was correct.

"Hmmm…." Retsuko said, "I think Fabienne is right."

Haida's jaw dropped while Fabienne smirked.

"Alright then, this way."

The snow leopard started walking down the street, Haida and Retsuko in tow.

Haida looked a bit down that he was wrong, but Retsuko gave him a playful jab to cheer him up.

Eventually, the group arrived at a large stone building situated by the coast. The American flag was flying on a pole outside. There was a large wooden sign reading "Zootopia World War 2 Museum."

"Told you," Fabienne said.

The trio went inside, where a bunny attendant was waiting in a booth near the entrance.

"Hi! 3 please, general admission." Retsuko said.

The trio paid for their tickets and entered the museum, which was not very crowded. The rooms were filled with equipment, posters, flags, pictures, all from the Second World War.

Pictures of troopers in combat. Guns those soldiers would have used. Maps of the battle formations they would have been in.

Retsuko and Haida went over to a giant wall of black marble. Upon which were carved the names of soldiers from Zootopia who had distinguished themselves in combat during WW2. Above the wall was a black and white mural of US Soldiers of many different species.

Fabienne was busy looking at an exhibit about war correspondents during the Second World War. There was an old camera on display, articles published by war reporters, and photographs of correspondents. This sort of thing was right up her alley.

"It's amazing how much we've progressed," Fabienne said, looking at old photography equipment. She spotted an old camera that was a lot bigger than her phone and probably could only photograph in black and white.

The snow leopard moved on to a small exhibit that contained mannequins of different mammals in combat gear. There was a small video screen playing a video comparing the biological system of various mammals as soldiers.

"Humans make the best soldiers." Said a disembodied voice on the video, as the picture changed to show a human soldier on a long trek in the desert. "They have unmatched endurance and survival skills. Not to mention their skills in combat have been continuously refined and improved over millennia, in the many wars and battles fought by humans."

"Maybe that's why a human is the leader of Heroes," Fabienne asked herself.

"This does not mean other species are incapable of waging war. Many other types of mammals serve in specialist roles."

A picture of a Russian polar bear in arctic camouflage appeared on the screen as the announcer continued.

"Polar bears and other arctic mammals make good soldiers for sub-zero environments."

The screen changed again, showing a picture of a cheetah soldier.

"While cheetahs and Pronghorns make good couriers, depending on the distance being traveled."

The snow leopard found this fascinating. Every species was unique in some way.

The ZNN reporter moved to rejoin Haida and Retsuko. They were looking at an exhibit about imperial Japan and the war in the pacific.

"Wow, look at that," Retsuko said, examining a model of a US aircraft carrier.

Haida and Fabienne looked at a map of battle formations around an island, complete with pictures of soldiers.

One photo showed Japanese troops digging trenches around the island as defenses. Another picture showed US pilots getting into planes and preparing to launch from the deck of a carrier. A third picture showed US marines charging against stubborn and dug-in Japanese pillboxes on a hill, firing down at a beach.

"My God, it's so reminiscent of the current war," Fabienne noted, looking at another image of American and Japanese warships engaging each other as planes crisscrossed the sky.

"I know…" Retsuko said, "I mean, we're fighting in the pacific, with warships and planes. I guess history repeats itself."

"What I find amazing..." Haida said, "the US and Japan used to be such bitter enemies, and now they are great allies."

"Yep, it only goes to show you how things can change with time," Fabienne responded.

"Here we are, mammals from Japan, doing an important role in a US military organization," Retsuko said. "And there is no place I'd rather be."

The three mammals continued through the museum. Examining the past and how it could tell them about the present and future.

000

JayJay was in her cabin on the typhoon, putting away some clothes she had just washed. The wolf put a dress on a hanger, hanging it in the closet, before turning her attention to some stockings and a few shirts.

As the young hero finished putting her clothes away in a drawer, there was a knock at her door.

The wolf opened the door and smiled, seeing captain Boehm in front of her.

"Hey Jay, what are you doing?"

"Just putting away some clothes." The wolf said, quickly fixing her hair and making herself look presentable. "What brings you around?"

"Well… I was wondering if you would like to hang out?" The captain said, trying to speak confidentiality. "We could go somewhere. There's plenty of attractions around Zootopia. Or just stay here and watch a movie or something."

JayJay's tail started wagging.

"Oh! I'd love to take you out clubbing!" The wolf said.

"Clubbing? Eh… that's not exactly my thing…."

"Please!" JayJay said, giving Alex puppy dog eyes. "I'd love it if you came along!"

"Sigh, alright, fine."

"Yes! Trust me, you'll have fun! Let me just get my things and get ready to go."

"Ok, I'll go get my wallet. Meet you back here."

Both mammals used the bathroom, got their personal effects, and met back up outside JayJay's room before leaving the typhoon.

"I'm really excited," JayJay confessed. "You, my favorite person in the world, going clubbing and dancing with me, which is my favorite thing to do!"

"I mean, I'm not exactly big on that sort of thing… but I'll bite the bullet if it means spending time with you."

The wolf wagged her tail in excitement. The pair then came upon Kion and Jasiri, who walked down the hallway. Each had an arm around the other.

"What are you two up to?" Alex asked.

"We're just going out," Kion said.

"Oh! So are we!" JayJay responded. "I'm taking him to a club."

The wolf gestured at the human.

"Heh, didn't think that would be your kind of thing, Alex." Kion teased. "You are usually a very reserved person who tends to keep to himself."

"Your correct." The captain responded, "But I just like spending time with Jay."

"Well, I like spending time with Jasiri." The lion kissed the hyena on the cheek, making her blush. This prompted JayJay to turn to her companion. Giving a look that almost saying "What? Where's my kiss?"

"If you two are going out, what if we come with you? We could all hang out." Jasiri said.

"I'm fine with that," Boehm responded. "Jay?"

"I'm down! Let's go!"

The four left the typhoon and headed down the street, led by JayJay, who knew where all the excellent dance parties and nightclubs were.

"I am going to bring you out of your shell tonight." JayJay said to Alex, "you can't be so reserved all the time."

"I think you are the right person to do that." The human responded to the wolf. "You're so outgoing and social. I'm an introvert, your an extrovert."

"Opposites attract." Kion laughed.

After a few minutes of walking, the group reached a building with dozens of bright neon lights outside, shining in all colors.

"Hey! It's the party animal!" Said the bear bouncer, opening the door for the team to go inside.

More bright lights of all colors flashed above a dance floor made up of light-up squares, which also changed color frequently. Mammals packed the dance floor, moving and cheering as they enjoyed themselves.

A bar that glowed white from internal lights was stationed against one of the walls. Behind the bar were shelves of liquid backlit by blue light. Tables and chairs were set up around the main dance floor for mammals to chat and rest.

"Say what about loud noises?" Kion asked Alex. "I heard that introverts like things to be quiet."

"Yes, but Kion, I'm a soldier. I've heard the blasts of artillery strikes and the engines of rockets and jet planes. I can take some loud music."

"Do you guys want to get something to drink first?" Jay asked as the group drifted over to a table. "We need to stay hydrated if we're going to be dancing."

"What time is it?" Alex asked, "ah, I'll just have lemonade or something."

"Coke, please," Kion said. "No ice."

"Water is fine for me," Jasiri said.

"Alright! You guys have to pay me back, though. Kion, could you give me a paw? I can't carry all the drinks."

The wolf and lion left, heading to the bar.

"Say do we have any Glocks onboard the ship?" Jasiri asked.

"Yeah?" The captain said.

"I think I'm gonna try those as my pistols. See how they do in battle."

"Well, if you're going to use them, akimbo, we have plenty of attachments you can use. Sights, flashlights and lasers, muzzle breaks, and suppressors…. Heroes is well supplied."

"I can tell. I suppose all the money spent is worth it, though. We get the job done."

"Maybe you should get yourself another weapon if you find the pistols aren't cutting it. Like an SMG. Maybe an MP5 or UMP."

The human and hyena continued to discuss their weapons of warfare until Kion and JayJay returned with four glasses containing the drinks. The two giving Alex and Jasiri their beverages. JayJay had apparently ordered a beer, as her glass contained a foaming brown liquid.

"Jasiri and I were just talking about our combat gear," Alex said, taking a sip of his lemonade.

"Yeah, he thinks I should get an SMG for when the pistols don't cut it."

"I recently changed my armament as well." Kion said, "I quite like the LMG I got my paws on."

"Well, as I told Jasiri…" Alex said, "we have plenty of attachments you can put on."

"Oh sweet! I'll have to check those out."

"Well, while your running into battle with a sword and a big gun, my own equipment is a bit smaller," JayJay said. "Just a simple pistol and a machine pistol for when the going gets tough."

"Yeah, Kion, you are like the tank. With an LMG, a powerful sword, and your own strength to punch right through enemies." Captain Boehm noted. "Jay is more focused on her agility and speed."

"I've been thinking of getting a sword more like what you and Laval use. Chima style!" Kion said. "Also, JayJay, isn't your pistol an older design? 1911?"

"Yep! And not just any 1911. That very pistol was wielded by my ancestor, Jim Burdel, during WW1!"

"Wow, That should be in a museum."

"Hey, I like to think I'm doing right by my ancestor by carrying his weapon into battle. Though I don't know if he would like the paint scheme I've given it, he's not here to complain."

Suddenly the loud dubstep music slowed down, and all the lights on the dance floor turned a light blue as their movement speed slowed down.

"It's time for a slow dance!" The DJ said, "Maybe grab that special someone and bring them out onto the floor!"

Jasiri smirked at Kion and jumped up, gesturing for Kion to follow her, which he did. They headed out onto the dance floor, joining in the crowd of mammals.

Jasiri playfully pushed Kion, trying to figure out how exactly he should dance with his hyena. Fumbling with his paws and where to put them in a way that was not lewd.

The lion's lover just hugged him close, prompting Kion to wrap his arms around her and slowly turn and dance.

"Come on, Alex!" JayJay said, standing up, prompting the captain to do the same and follow her.

The two mammals reached the dance floor, surrounded by other mammals and couples, moving slowly to the music.

Under the blue light, the pair embraced, nuzzling against each other's fur and skin. Alex and JayJay closed their eyes, enjoying the moment with each other, along with the other couples on the dance floor, including Kion and Jasiri. But the human and wolf were just focusing on each other. Both of them were, to the other, the most important mammal in the world.

Moments like these were what they were fighting for. China was an autocratic nation, curtailing freedoms and liberties. But here, people could be free and enjoy themselves without fear of the government or military.

It was these moments of peace that made their battles worth it. Worth fighting for a million times over.

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aesthbaby · 4 years ago

Text

Ghost

Summary: Do you remember the episode Demonology where we learned of Emily’s past? What if I told you, you were apart of it. After years of silence on her end, you end up meeting her again.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

Prompt: here

Warnings: Cursing | Sadness | Typos

Word Count:

Masterlist

An: Dedicated to my hundredth follower. Ahhhh I'm too hype about this! I also made a slight change to the prompt but everything else is the same :) Anon, I hope you enjoy.

Indignation

The screaming crawls up the walls of her oversized, child hood home to shake her ear drums. The thunder only adds fuel to the fire that is the rage possessed by both Prentiss’ as they continue their screaming match.

“Don’t you dare walk away when I’m talking to you!” Elizabeth’s voice matches the rain. The way she stomps behind her daughter looks almost comical.

“Back off mother.” She mumbles this more to herself than her mother.

She stops walking, planting her feet firmly on the Brazilian Chestnut flooring. “I will not ask you again.” She comes to a stop, takes a breath, and slowly turns to her mother. Not meeting her eyes, of course, because it’d hurt too much to see the hate in her eyes. “Look at me.” The mother growls. She slowly moves to meet her mothers eyes and finds nothing but rage there; energy matched to the thunder and rain outside. “You will not see that-” The derogatory term gets caught up in her throat.

Taking a step towards the elder, “What?” Daring to ask the question to which she already knows the answer. “What do you want to say mother?” Her jaw tightens, a sign that Emily knows all too well. “Spit it out.” Its taking everything in her not to raise her voice again and spew the word out for her mother.

Elizabeth takes a breath of her own before replying. “You are not to see that girl again or so help me, I will make sure she goes back to where she came from.” Before Emily could object, she speaks again. “That is final Emily.” Her voice holds strong, and suddenly the storm ceases its assault.

All is quiet in the Prentiss house yet the tension remains; so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

Disregard

The next morning you arrive to school earlier than usual, but for good reason. Some random college hoodie wrapped loosely around your torso and a dainty neck tucked under it. Your school uniform has never fit you quite right because of how late in the year you transferred, you know...left overs. Phone is going absolutely crazy in your shirt pocket but now isn't the time, you’re looking for somebody. You’re looking for her. Mr. Ricci’s voice can be heard on your left, telling a group of guys its time for class. Emily...where the hell are you?

As the day progresses you still see no sign of the brunette until now. “Emily!” Running up to her you deliver a swift punch to her shoulder. “Where the hell have you been?” When her eyes meet yours they puffy, like she’s been crying. “Em- I-”

“First of all, ouch. Secondly, I can’t right now.” She turns to walk off with her lunch in hand, but you quickly pull her back by her elbow.

“You ‘can’t’ right now? What the hell is wrong with you?” Its taking everything in you not to become overtly emotional. “And where have you been?”

“Y/n I’m sorry but I really can’t right now.” She pulls away from your grip. Leaving you more confused than before.

You scuff at her wording. “You never calls me by my first name...” Its always been her thing, starting with a joke about how she has another friend by the same name as you so she had to call you something else. The next day was the same, avoiding you at all costs.

But it didn’t stop there.

It felt as though you were left on a physical manifestation of ‘read.’ Her name with the red heart emoji attached, did not pop up on your phone for what seemed to be months but in reality it had only been a few weeks. If she were to simply pick up the phone you would have been able to tell her about your unforeseen departure time. Due to sudden changes in international studies, you had to leave and the academy needed their student back. The one of which you exchange places with in January. Tears spring to your eyes at the thought of leaving. Not only are you leaving her, but also leaving this city you got to call home.

Sunny days always seem to appear at the wrong time, your departure day. She’s not here to see you off, hasn’t been around for a while. Can you really blame her? She doesn’t even know you’re leaving because she wont pick up the fucking phone. It doesn’t matter anymore, your time is up and so is her’s. A line of black and white kittens sprint across the cobblestone streets and that right there is what makes you break down in tears. Seeing the delicate kittens run after a mouse while tripping over their own feet. Random yellow flowers peaking through the stone which you’ve never known the actual name of. That one girl in Chem that would bake cookies for the class on Fridays. Your host dad taking you to his favorite café that served an increasing number of Cuban smokers. Going to eat gelato after homeroom with that one guy who would always make Golden Girls references. Then there was Emily, the girl that gave you a dainty gold necklace for valentines day. The girl that got a random jock to stop harassing you. The person whose lap you’d lay in on Saturday mornings at the park, is the same person who randomly started to ignore you. Maybe you could have fixed things with her if you had more time. You were supposed to have until June but suddenly everything shifted and all you were told is that you needed to come home, promptly. You couldn’t wait for her any longer, not even sure why you thought she’d come in the first place. Casting one last glance over your shoulder before stepping into the buzzing airport.

At least meet me half way.

Hereafter

"I don’t think so.” You laugh at your friend’s proposition to set you up on a blind date. “I am absolutely content with the way I choose to live my life.” Shifting a bit on the new couch that hasn’t been broken in, resulting in the stiff cushions.

He lets out this weird scuffing noise. “No you’re not. Remember last weekend when we tried to pull an all-nighter but your sleep deprived brain betrayed you?” At your nonchalant shrug, he continues. “You started rambling about just wanting to find some well educated, fun loving, female in this world full of bureaucratic straight men. Your words, not mine.” You throw a pillow at him but he swiftly doges it. “But you couldn’t have said it better.” These recent years have been a series of unfortunate dates that have ended in you lying about having to leave early for something.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend you should be getting home to?”

“Not tonight, I’m all yours. Apparently she has her knitting circle tonight.”

“That's what you get for dating an older woman.”

“Its a five year age difference! What is wrong with you people?”

You hold your hands up in defense. “Nothing, as long as you’re both legal and she’s good to you, its fine by me.”

“Shut up!” He screeches. “Oh shit, don’t you have a meeting in the morning?”

“Yes sir.” He stands to take your glasses and plates in the kitchen but you object. “Leave it,” At his confused expression, you continue. “Cleaning helps me relax so I figured I’ll wake up early so I can do that and reduce my stress levels by at least ten percent.”

“Dude, you’re seriously weird.”

“Say another bad thing about me and I'm sending you home.”

Throwing him a few pillows from the hallway closet and a comforter just for him to scream, “Its too hot in this cottage core apartment!”

Its not even cottage core themed?? Its just cozy with a plant or two. Am I expected to live in an ice cold home? I feel like he’s just saying this because I’m gay.

Your prepared outfit hands on the back of your bedroom door, mocking you. Making you reconsider the entire thing and simply not go but it feels as though you’d regret it if you didn’t. Maybe not, who knows?

And with that as your final though, you drift off to sleep.

You wake at the amazing time of 6 A.M to see your guest gone with a note on the couch:

I cleaned up the mess from last night and I also did the dishes in your sink. Not sure how u slept through all of that...I made a fruit salad for ur breakfast and a normal one for lunch.

Good luck with your meeting!

And one of those old fashioned emoticons at the bottom corner. Idiot.

You eat the food he left from the fridge, brush your teeth with the news playing in the background, and continue on with the normal morning routine.

Gathering your lunch and the little items you feel like you’d need, phone, charger, paper work, and keys; you know, the works. Finally heading out to your destination with nothing but ambition, you run into a slight problem.

Overlapping breakfast with an old friend of yours. “Hey, babe, I am so sorr-”

“Absolutely not, I don’t want to hear your excuses.” The positive voice rings through the phone like velvet sheets after a cold shower. “You missed our reservation!” Have to admit hearing them whine is pretty entertaining. “You had one job. One!” You guys met some years ago over some random online forum, arguing over some random movie. You don’t talk as much as you’d like but breakfast is always on the menu--mostly in February.

“Quick question, am I allowed to apologize?”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, “Yes you may, but only in fruit baskets and coffee.”

“I got you, next time though. I’m on my way to something right now.”

“Something...” In comes the teasing undertone. “Does this ‘something’ have a name?”

Bursting into a fit of laughter at what is implied and replying, “Definitely not, its a work thing.”

“Speaking of work, I have to go. Ciao!”

Just in time to end the call, you pull into the designated parking deck from the email. Going through all of the security procedures was hell but blatantly necessary; the rest was gravy. Floating through the rest of the building gave you a slightly stressful feel because of all the men walking around with perfect suits and casting no glances your direction. When the glass doors labeled BAU appear, you take a deep breath and walk in with confidence. Taking in the buzzing sound of agents at work all around you. Agent Hotcher’s office is glaringly obvious: higher up than the rest, perfect overview of the hive, and in direct eye sight of the entryway doors.

Delivering a swift knock to the office door you hear a faint invitation from the inside. Walking in with a smile and straight back you are greeted with a man in a dark navy blue suit and a stoic look to attached to him. It first starts with the small talk of your experience, early life, skill sets, and what not.

“Agent Hotchner, might I speak out of line for a moment.” He gives you a skeptical look before nodding. “I understand the nature of this meeting but I am not completely sure why it was conducted.” His furrowed brown is not a good sign, making you correct your structure a bit. “Right, well,” God his stare is fucking intense. “What I mean to ask is, why am I here?”

That was bold.

“Agent, are you not aware that this is a Career Analysis Assessment?” As it slowly sinks in an O-shape forms with your mouth. Now you feel like a complete idiot in front of this prestigious, tight suited, man. “You were unaware? Its fine if you were,” You let out a sigh at the confirmation. “I have a tendency to write my emails with an excessive amount of four syllable words so one could see where the confusion originated.” You let out a nervous laugh at the realization that this is basically a job interview.

“I see that you’ve spent time studying abroad.” Indicated by the recommendations from your Italian Psychology teacher. “Why not join the CIA?”

“Dare I say, they make me nervous?” He cracks a small, very subtle, smile at the admission.

“What made you want to leave Human Resources?”

“I got tired of analyzing decisions with nothing but dead bodies and messy crimes and having my primal focus be the agents and not the victims or perpetrators. Using what I’ve learned as material for agents in training when I could have prevented it from happening.”

“Well said, but I need to be completely transparent with you.” This can’t be good. “I will admit that I have serious reservations about adding a Human Resources officer to my team.”

Shit let me stop him before this spirals. He thinks I’m a spy. “Sir, with all do respect, I have no intentions of being a bureaucratic spy. I’d also like to point out that I wasn’t that high on the HR totem pole to the point where I had an explicit say on what happens to agents, who is hire, fired, or how they’re trained. I analyzed and compromised while expressing my findings to an unbiased extent. If I wanted to be a spy I would have joined the CIA.” Besides, Head Quarter’s is the one that does all of that internal investigation stuff, not HR.

He doesn’t say anything or make any sudden movements for a good minute. I fucked up. That spy line was too far. “I’d like to offer you a position on this team, so long as you can start immediately.”

“Yes, of course I can! I don’t have much office supplies besides a pen or two and-”

“Its fine,” He stands from his seat and straightens the dark blazer. “I’ll have one of my agents show you around.”

From across the bullpen you spot a familiar blonde. “Oh my god!” The file in her hand falls to the floor. “Its you!” She practically squeals.

“Penelope, I didn’t know you work here.” You give your old friend a tight, unapologetic hug. She said she worked as a tech analysis but you always assumed it was for an activism group or a tech firm, not the FBI out of all things. Despite having such interesting jobs, you never talk about work with each other. She knows you work for the government but not which. Although knowing how good she is at uncovering people’s secrets, there’s a good chance she already knew you work for the FBI too.

“What are you doing here? Like physically here. I thought you were in Florida.”

“I have to get back, can you take care of Agent Y/L/N for me?” Hotchner says before rushing off without an answer.

And there she goes with the snooping. “Actually, I left the Florida office and went to California.”

“Oh.” Her face twists a bit. “And now you’re here?”

“I thought you were the woman behind the curtains, the all knowing.”

“And wonderful!” She points with her perfectly painted finger.

In comes a slim man with a messenger back, making a click in your mind. “Now where have I seen him before...” Turning slightly to follow his trail.

“That’s our resident genius Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Unbelievable. “He’s twelve.” The young agent’s head snaps toward you and Penelope, “Does he have super human hearing too?” She introduces you to the Doctor who is, as expected, socially awkward in many ways. A man named David Rossi of whom you’ve met at least once during a few Bureau seminars; last you heard he had rejoined the BAU after retirement. Jennifer Jareau is gorgeous with a nurturing nature about her, she immediately recognizes your name from exchanged paperwork but that’s about it. The introductions are brief, everyone seems to be busy with their own things. “Penelope your team is kind of small.” You quietly mention to her.

“Oh!” Guess the realization that two people are missing, finally clicks in her head. She starts walking in the direction of a staircase so you automatically follow her. “This is Derek Morgan.” Standing in front of a round table is a tall man with a really toned body. “Derek, this is Agent Y/n L/n from Human Resources.” His eyebrow arches up in suspicion.

“Oh no I’m not here for anything bad, I’ve actual been transferred into the BAU. Working behind a desk and watching as others do the work I can’t, wasn’t working out for me.” Definitely won’t trust me until I save his life or something. “I’ve heard of you, one of the Academy trainers has shown a few videos of you.” He smirks at the implied compliment and finally holds his hand out for you to shake.

“Where’s...” Pen trails while looking around.

“Oh she’s getting coffee.” The darker man points behind himself.

“Who’s getting coffee?”

Reconciliation

Maybe we wouldn’t be so short handed if they sprung for better coffee. Emily thought to herself while stirring the flavorless, dark liquid. What if they attach a coffee shop to the building? Imagine how much money the shop would make off of overworked agents. But then I feel like we’d start developing a true addiction to this stuff. Her thoughts are interrupted by the approach of foot steps. She meets Derek’s figure and smiles at the resident goofball of the BAU. Followed by Penelope’s pink centralized outfit with feathers. Then there’s you, just as beautiful as the last time you saw each other. If not more. Your hair shines amongst the florescent lights, paired with the perfectly tailored outfit and jewelry. The same eyes that would brighten her day as they met. An almost unnoticeable bounce in you walk, same as it were years ago. As you step towards her there is a flash of gold on your wrist that sends a ping to Emily’s heart, its the necklace I gave you in high school.

Intersect

You would have know about Emily’s transfer here from a few years ago, had her paperwork gone through the HR department but apparently it went straight to the top because this is definitely a surprise. Once you realize its actually her you stop dead in your tracks. Can’t be.

“Y/n,” She stutters out your name in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“Emily, I work here.” Ripping the band-aid off like this is an every day encounter; seeing your unofficial ex who you were never actually with in the first place but had the same characteristics as a high school couple. Yeah...that.

She also blurted out a ‘no you don’t’ before Garcia interrupted. “How do you two know each other?”

You both snapped your heads to her simultaneously. “We don’t.” Also said that part at the same time.

“Right.” She drags. “I’m sensing some unresolved tension...”

“What are-” Em tries to object.

“So we’re going to go.” The tech analysis grabs the sleeve of the darker man and practically sprints off in the opposite direction. Morgan having a dumbfounded look on his face.

It feels like you’re at a stalemate, who will make the first move. What will the emotions be? Are they going to fly? Because I’d like to throw a few verbal punches her way. Who does that to someone? I thought I was over it but clearly the wound is still open. Great now watch her blame me for X, Y, and Z,

“I’ve missed you.” She barely whispers, sounding a bit broken yet insincere. Its like she’s detaching herself from the narrative. So unexpected that you almost think you’re imagining this. Why would she say that? This is not the Emily you remember.

Anger bubbles up in your throat ready to unleash upon her entirety. Instead of bursting into flames right on the spot, in the middle of your new place of employment you take a deep breath. Words of disbelief dance on your lips before speaking. “You did not.” She tilts her head like a curious puppy. Who am I even talking to?

“What do you mean?” And just like that she’s whisked away by a guy in a suit of whom you do not recognize. Your jaw clinches in a desperate attempt to keep your cool, wondering what the hell is going on.

Realization

Besides the surprise of seeing Emily, your first day went great. Everyone kept checking up on you and you couldn’t tell if it was because they were trying to be friendly, excited to have a new teammate, or nervous of your background. “She used to work for the FBI Human Resources Branch.” You heard the skinny one tell Morgan when they thought you weren’t listening.

JJ and Penelope invited you out for drinks but all you really wanted to do was lay in your bed with a face mask and a bag of chips. Waving a farewell to the blonde women and head to your car, but a few feet away you feel a presence. You quickly loop around in search of the energy with your hand on the top of your gun. “Woah woah.” Emily holds her hands up in surrender.

At the realization of who it is you take a breath and clip your gun back in place. You give her a “what the hell look” before straightening your outfit.

“Were you going to shoot me?”

She’s met with wide eyes from your end. “Maybe?! Who sneaks up on someone with a gun?”

“I didn’t ‘sneak’ up on you.”

“Emily, you wear all black and walk like a feather. What were you expecting?” The buried anger is starting showing through.

“Okay,” She does a weird hand movement that kind of looks like she’s trying to calm you down. “I’m sorry. I just thought we could talk.”

“Talk...” You’re not really following.

“Yes, I’d like to talk.”

“Emily what are you asking? I’m lost.”

She take a moment to figure it out before answering. “For a second chance, I’m asking for another shot.”

You uncross your arms at the admission, letting them lazily fall beside you. “Em- I-” She can’t be asking what I think she is. “Its been years. More than a decade has passed since-” The words suddenly die on your lips

“I know,” And it looks like there’s a slight glimmer in her eyes, implying the presence of suppressed tears. “I’d just like to explain.”

“Explain?” You bite, tasting the bitter flavor of annoyance.

“Yes, I at least owe you that.”

And that’s how you ended up here, with her. In a cozy, minimalistic loft at nine in the afternoon with a coffee table separating the two of you.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing to break the silence, and this time it actually sounded sincere. “If I could have explained everything to you back then, I would have.”

You lean forward, closer to her and push the rather large vase off to the side so she has to be vulnerable with you. Nothing to help her hide from herself. At her confused face you lean back in your seat and nod for her to continue.

“My mother was always a difficult woman and although she has gotten better over the years, things were at their worst when she found out how much time I had been spending with you.” The brunette takes a minute before admitting the next part. “She was responsible for your early departure. I tried to stop her, give you more time but she’s relentless.” She waits for your reaction but when met with nothing, she continues. “She threatened me by putting our connection on the line, which in retrospect I now realize was impossible to save. She had already made calls to get you out of the country by the time I could sever what we had. I never wanted to hurt you or end what we shared.”

“And what did we share, Emily?”

Her tongue darts from between her lips, doing that weird little biting thing she’s always done since we’ve known each other. It sparks something in you that you haven't felt in a while. “I think you know. The fact that you still wear the necklace I gave you, bracelet, means you never really forgot.”

“I liked it where I could see it, but Em you could have called, texted even.”

“I couldn’t I was scared. Then after you left I started to distance myself from everyone and everything was really going downhill.”

“How so?”

“I got mixed up with peer pressure and boys.” This doesn’t sound good. “At one point I did anything I could to fit in.”

“What does that mean?” There’s a moment when a tear wells up on one of her eyes, but not dropping. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I-” She tries to speak but nothing comes out. “I couldn’t tell my mother and the church wasn’t happy with my actions.” It suddenly dawns on you, like a smack in the face. You want to make her stop and just hold her but this needs to come out. “I couldn’t call you because it would hurt too much. I hated myself at that moment more than I ever have.”

“And you haven’t dated since?”

She sniffles and lets out a little laugh at that. “God no, I’ve dated people but I haven't dated another female since. It felt wrong, like I was replacing you or something.”

“You owe me nothing. You were just trying to protect me and I see that now.”

“I knew better, its been so long and when I heard you joined the academy I-”

“Wait, you knew and didn’t say anything?”

“Y/n I couldn’t bring myself to do anything other that attempt to move on.” Silence fills the room and its not the comforting kind. Its the tense, I need to do something, kind.

“Do you feel anything?” You dare to ask.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Were your feelings lost in transit?”

“They froze the day you left, and thawed the day I saw you again. Today.”

“So its not over.”

She appears to contemplate your statement. “No, its not over. We have a chance to start over.”

What now?

.｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*★*･･*･'･*:..:*･゜ﾟ･*☆*:. .｡.:*☆

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lavenderdaisyhoney · 3 years ago

Text

Into The Walls

summary: an aot dystopian type au where y/n vows to seek revenge on the people who live in luxury in the walls

Pairing: f-body & pronouns Y/N x Levi (but that is further down the road and not the main focus)

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: death, blood, injury, abuse of power, curse words, dark content. Rated 16+.

A/N: I apologize in advance. Pls forgiveth me.

This is the way of the world. It hunts you from the day you’re born, like a lion hunts a gazelle, and fattens you up with hope for the future. Once it thinks you’re ready, it will chew you up in it’s wide infinite mouth until nothing but an empty shell is left. Once all hope is gone, it spits you out into a dark abyss of nothingness.

This is what you come to learn at the tender age of 19. One more year. Just one more year until your sentence is considered served. One. More. Year.

You swallow, with a heavy tongue, as you gaze upon the Elite Task Force uniform. A loose fitting matte black uniform made from the finest synthetic fibres. With a closer look, you can see many interweaving blue threads that seem to glow. These threads absorb impact and turn it into raw strength. In the upper top left corner lies the “M” insignia. Many would feel a certain pride while looking at that insignia but you felt nothing. With a sigh, you grab the uniform and put it on. Staring at yourself in the small cracked bedroom mirror, you see the light of hope raging bright and true in your eyes. The watch on your wrist indicates you have 20 minutes left until you will be punished for being late.

You quietly make your way down the stairs, making sure the rabbit you caught last night is on the table, wrapped in newspaper. You feed more wood to the wood burning stove. You always do this. Making sure the house is ready for your family to wake up. With ten minutes to spare, you leave your cabin, the rusted mirror hanging in the doorway holding your reflection until the door is completely shut.

You run down the mountain towards the line up of other citizens that are also serving sentences. The people within the wall don’t bother with punishing us as we are maggots beneath their garbage under their feet so they make us punish each other. The commanding officer, an older gentleman, is calling out names.

“L/N?” He calls your last name out without looking up from the tablet in his hands. Another officer standing next to him grabs your arm and scans the barcode tattooed on your arm. With your identity verified, you’re handed a number. You take that number to the weapons dispensary truck. No citizens are allowed to have any weapons of any kind unless they’re being used for hunting.

The officer in the truck grabs the number you hold out, and hands you a stun gun. “The number of stuns in this gun have been verified. If the number of stuns doesn’t match the number on your logs after your shift…well….you know what will be done. Understand?”

You wish you could tell the officer to wipe that sick grin off his face but you can’t risk anything that will extend your sentence. With a bite of your tongue, you nod and grab the gun out of his hands. With the gun safely holstered to your hip, you make your way back to the commanding officer.

“Listen up, vermin.” The commanding officer finally looks up and hands the tablet to the officer next to him and begins walking down the line. “There have been an increase in riots throughout the city. Your jobs today are to make sure no news of riots reach the walls. You see a group of rats, break them apart. You see anyone on the street without identification, arrest them. I don’t care if they are children or elderly. The rules have been the same for years now so there’s no excuse.” The commanding officer pauses in front of you. You have your helmet on but you make direct eye contact with him. “If any of you, for any reason, fail to appropriately punish the rats, you will take their punishment instead. Is that clear?”

With a chorus of “sir yes sirs”, you’re finally allowed to disband. Everyone is making their way to their respective trucks when you hear your name being called.

“L/N.” Your entire body pauses after hearing the commanding officer call out your name.

“Your helmet needs to be adjusted. You’re well aware of how anal higher ups tend to be about appearance.” He walks closer to you and clips the buckle on your helmet. Your eyes haven’t left his since he called out your name.

“A young woman like yourself would do well with a sponsor.” Sponsors are old lecherous men that take advantage of young at risk girls and harass them with the promise that they will take them to live inside the wall.

You take a look at the name engraved into his uniform. C.O Aiken Davis. You mentally take a note of his name and add it to the list of people you’ll eventually kill. Now though, you can’t do anything so you nod and march off into the truck that will take you into the city.

The city is about 45 minutes away from the mountain. During the drive, you see signs of poverty such as broken windows, rusted trucks, people dressed in rags begging for anything and everything. A little boy runs out in front of the truck, causing the driver to curse and hit the breaks. One of the men on your team, Vince Andrus, hops out of the back and grabs the kid. He tosses him into a pile of garbage, and with a quick removal of his belt, beats him. You turn your eyes away from the sight but you can’t stop your hands from making fists.

You barely have time to ignore the cries of the boy before Vince is back and the truck is continuing its course. “That’s how you teach them. My father did the same to me and look how well I turned out”

Everyone in the truck laughs but not you. You scoff. “Is that why you turned out to be so fucked up?” you ask.

“What was that?” Vince asks you as he shoots up to his feet. “You have anything to say, weasel, you can say it to my fucking face.”

You don’t say anything so Vince takes that as a sign of weakness. “Yeah that’s what I thought.” If only he knew what you had planned for him later on.

Finally, you make it into the city. It looks pretty much like a warzone. Tall buildings with broken glass. Cars flipped over. Fires here and there. Garbage litters every inch of the black asphalt. Grocery stores with missing letter signs. The truck makes a stop and the driver orders all of you to hop off.

“Y/N!” hearing your name brings you out of the daze you were in. “Go into that grocery store and survey it. Make sure no one is living inside.” The leading officer of your group orders.

You enter the store, stepping over the broken glass, with your stun gun aimed. Within a second, you already know you’re not alone. There’s signs of life such as a makeshift bed and half a can of corn that still looked good. You’re checking out the aisle where you found the bed when you hear something knocked off a shelf. You run to the sound, gun aimed, ready to shoot when you see a little girl, maybe about five or six, huddled on the ground. She’s dirty and her little dress is ripped to tatters. Her hair that looks blond is very matted and her teeth are chipped. She must’ve been living in this store for a while. Her pale skin is covered in buries from head to toe.

“Identify yourself!” you shout while your gun is still aimed at her.

No response.

“I’m giving you three seconds to tell me your name before I shoot.” You count the seconds in your head, praying that she answers.

“Li-Lilia.” She stutters in a quite voice, eyes filled with fear.

“Lilia, how many people are in this store with you?” Your gun is still aimed.

“Just me.”

How naïve. “I’m going to ask you one more time, Lilia.” You remove the safety on the gun with a click. “How many people are here with you?”

Lilia is now shivering. You hear a small sound and see that she has urinated herself out of fear. While you see the puddle grow larger, you notice her eyes keep darting to the aisle to your left. You finally get it. The bruises. The urine. She’s been kidnapped. You don’t say a word but you signal with your finger to the left.

Lilia nods as she silently cries.

You quickly check your surroundings, making sure you’re the only task member in the store as what you’re about to do will add to your sentence for sure. You signal with your finger to Lilia to keep quiet and you make your way over to the other side. At the end of the aisle, you see a man bent with his back to you, a gun in his hands.

How the hell did a street rat get a gun? With a closer look, you see it’s a task force gun. A growl rings out behind you. You barely have time to react when it jumps at you, teeth bared. A dog. You put your arm out and let it latch on, your uniform absorbing the force of it’s bite. The man you were sneaking up on is now aware of your presence.

He quickly makes his way over to you, gun aimed. “Good job, rocky. You’ve caught us some good task force bait.”

With your head titled, you ask ��Who said I said I was caught?”

You rip your arm out of the dog’s jaws, grab the neck of the dog, and throw it on the man. The man shoots, hitting his dog. With the dog now seizing on the ground, you’re able to fully focus on the man. You toss your gun onto the floor, preferring close combat with this punk.

You run full force at the man, as he shoots. Each electrical stun, your uniform absorbs, making you run faster. You feel your blood rushing through your veins as the familiar feeling of excitement hits you. You use one leg to jump on a knocked over display, and you use the height to propel yourself, aiming a kick at the man. Your kick meets his thick head, knocking him out instantly. Wow, what a waste. You were looking forward to a fight.

With the man knocked out and the dog still seizing, it’s just you and the girl. You see her small head pop out the side of the shelf, staring at you in awe.

You pick up your gun, the fear returning to her eyes once again. “Lilia, do you know how this man got this gun?”

She nods and gestures for you to follow. You proceed with caution, gun up and aimed in case another surprise comes flying at you. Lilia leads you to the empty manager’s room. Once you deem the room safe enough, you enter. She heads to a small closet and gestures for you to open the door.

You stand behind the door and slowly open. As the door opens, an arm falls out putting you on high alert. You open the door wider and what’s inside has you gagging.

Inside the closet is a body that has been cut up into several pieces. What has you shocked isn’t the fact that there’s a dead body but that the dead body is wearing a task force uniform. That’s how the man got that gun.

You go closer to the body, in hopes of finding an identifier. In the upper corner is the name Rolf Chasey engraved. You rip off the tag and pocket it. You check the pockets of Rolf and find a half eaten protein bar and a couple of coins. You toss the coins to Lilia, who grabs them off the floor in a hurry.

“Lilia, I never saw you and you never saw me. Is that understood?”

She nods and walks off, leaving you alone in the office. You close the closet door and close the office. Your comms come on.

“Y/N, what is taking you so long?” The leading officer asks in an aggravated tone. Asshole.

You press the button to activate your microphone. “Had a bit of an altercation. Found a man living here, alongside his dog. Also found the remains of a task force soldier. He’s been here for a while.” You report back.

“That’s unfortunate. Bring out the vermin and kill the dog. Retrieve the gun off the dead soldier if you can”

“Yes, sir.” You follow his orders and pick up the gun, but before holstering your own, you shoot out one shot, so it appears you’ve killed the dog. You grab the arm of the unconscious man and proceed to drag him out the door. You notice the dog is gone, probably protecting Lilia.

You’re finally out of the store, two soldiers of the task force run to help you with the man. You head towards the leading officer and hand him the gun of the deceased soldier.

“Good job, L/N. You’re not so useless after all.” You wish you could just knock out this man as well but you have to tread on thin ice and pray that nobody goes into that store before you depart.

“It’s an honour to be useful, Sir.”

He waves dismissively and points to the truck. “At ease, soldier. Get into the truck. Those two idiots will load our precious cargo in it’s cage.”

With a nod, you follow orders like a robot. You learned a long time ago the only way to stay alive is to follow orders and keep your head down.

Once everybody is loaded into the truck, you hear Vince going on about how he was harassing some pregnant woman who tried to steal bread. “If she’s homeless, what business does she have getting pregnant? That’s why women should never be allowed to leave the house, or be part of an elite task force.” He says the last sentence with a glare directed towards you.

Vince. A sexist hot-headed thorn in your side since you were sentenced to the task force. “Vince, you seem to forget that we were ordered to be a part of this force as a punishment, not a reward. Which means that we all committed crimes of some sort. What was yours again? Ah. You got caught with your pants down in a barn.”

You can see Vince getting irritated, the vein bulging on his forehead. “Then again, you’re not really a human right? Makes sense that you wanted to be with the animals.”

Vince gets up and drags you by your collar. “Shut the fuck up, you worthless bitch.”

“I may be a worthless bitch but at least I’m not into animals.” At this point, your hands are on Vince’s applying pressure so he understands that you won’t be bullied by him.

“At ease, soldiers.” The truck has stopped and your leading officer is talking from the front seat. It’s a good thing he can’t see you otherwise both you and Vince would’ve been punished. “Since today was a successful day, I’ve decided to reward you. I’m going to head into this bakery to get us some bread.”

“Thank you, sir!” Everyone in the truck screams. The leading officer leaves the truck, his door slam vibrating the entire vehicle.

“I would let me go within the next five seconds unless you want my foot up your ass.” You warn Vince, tired of his macho man routine.

Vince drags you closer to his face “You’re lucky. Just know, the next time I get my hands on you, I won’t stop until you’re dead.” With that, Vince shoves you away roughly.

You adjust your uniform and sit back down. It’s getting harder to resist killing everyone on this team but you have to hold yourself back. You can’t let anyone find out that you were trained by your mercenary father to be even more deadly than he is. That means only meeting the bare minimum. Hiding your fighting skills, getting treated like an idiot, and being punished.

The officer returns with a bag of bread he has harassed out of the bakery owners, tossing a medium sized loaf at each of you. “Eat it now or later, I don’t care. Don’t you dare get any crumbs in my truck otherwise I’ll make you all scrub it with a toothbrush.”

In silence, the truck finally makes its way back to the mountainside as the sun is setting, kissing the sky.

“I’ll see you back here tomorrow morning, soldiers.”

You all salute and head your separate ways.

You’re finally back home. Standing in front of the door with chipped paint, you take a deep breath and make your way inside. The heart warming smell of rabbit stew greets you as you take off your boots.

“Y/N, you’re back!” Your little brother excitedly jumps into your arms. You grab onto him and swing him on your back, piggy backing him into the kitchen. Your mom stands at the stove, stirring the stew.

“Good evening mom.” You kiss your mother on the cheek. She gives you a nod of acknowledgement and continues stirring the stew. You take the bread out of your bag and place it on the table. Your brother is still on your back, giggling, so you put him down and tell him to play in your room. You go through the narrow passageway that connects to the living room and spot your father in his wheelchair by the window.

“Father, I’m back.” Your relationship with your father is very limited. You’re not affectionate with one another nor do you spend much time together.

“Good. How was your shift today?” He asks while still staring out the window.

You sit on the broken couch and hold your head in your hands. “I found a dead body today. It belonged to a task force soldier. His body was cut up. Barely recognizable.”

Your father finally looks at you. “Did you find anything on the body?”

You grab the name tag from your pocket and hand it to him. “Just this. Does the name sound familiar to you?”

Your father observes the name, no sign of recognition on his face. He clutches the name tag and moves his wheelchair to the door. “Follow me, Y/N.”

You follow him as he rolls down the narrow hallway to the bathroom door. He pauses at the bathroom door and turns the light switch on. You both barely fit into the bathroom when your father maneuvers his chair and locks the door.

“Lead us down, Y/N.” You head to the toilet, lift up the tank cover and let the eye scanner scan your eyes.

“Retina scan complete. Identity approved. Opening wall.” A computerized voice says.

Within a couple of seconds, the bathroom wall disappears and opens up into a computer room. Your father wheels himself in and starts typing on the computer, searching up the name of the deceased soldier.

Bing. A file with the picture of Rolf Chasey comes up. He was a handsome man. Your father is typing away when he pauses and sighs.

“Turns out he was one of ours. I was hoping this wouldn’t be the case.” Your father removes his glasses, rubbing his bridge of his nose in frustration. “We’re going to have to report this. Get ready, Y/N.”

You make yourself presentable, hands behind your back as a sign of respect. The black screen connects to a video call.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” A mysterious voice answers.

“Good evening sir. I’m here to report that one of our soldiers was found dead.” Your father reports, putting his glasses back on.

“Who was it?” the voice asks.

“Rolf Chasey.” Your father answers.

“Hmm. He was a good soldier. That’s unfortunate. That means that someone is aware.”

You chime in. “All due respect, sir, what if it was just a rogue killing?”

“Your uniform protects you from everything, aside for a few weak spots. If a soldier is dead, that means someone knew these weak spots beforehand and planned everything. We’re going to have to escalate the timeline a bit.”

“How fast are we talking, sir?” This really complicates things.

“Tomorrow. I’m going to need you to commit a bigger crime that will get you inside the wall, in the jail here.”

You stand, frozen. A list of the crimes you can commit starts running through your head. The one at the top of the list being murder.

“You want me to kill someone?” You ask for clarification.

“Not just anyone. I heard there is a troublesome soldier on your team. Vince, right?”

Ahh, Vince. Is it finally his time to go? You’ve been waiting for this day. The day you can finally start ridding the earth of it’s filth.

“I’ll make it happen, sir.” You bow and the screen goes black without another word.

“Y/N. Are you ready?” Father asks as he is typing on his keyboard.

“This is what you’ve been training me for, father.”

“I know that but keep in mind. Training to kill and actually killing are two very different things. Once you take a life, you can never go back.” He pauses his typing and looks at you. “I’ll ask one more time. Are you ready for this?”

“Father, I was born to do this.” You answer with a smirk.

Another morning starts, dragging you out of bed with its drug induced embrace. You reluctantly get ready for your shift as you feel more tired today than ever. Last night’s events still run through your head. The dead body, the little girl, the orders. You pause between buttoning your shirt and hope that the little girl is okay.

You head downstairs and as per usual, everyone is still asleep. There was no catch left on the table for your family but you made a promise to bring something home with you. Feeding the fire once again, you head out the door.

The comforting scent of petrichor greets you just as the rising sun does. You begin your daily trek down the mountain. You make it to the bottom just as your name is called out.

“L/N! My son can move faster than you and he can’t even walk yet!” screams the C.O. from yesterday.

“I apologize, sir.” muttering this apology takes quite a lot from you but you have to do it to survive.

“Go get your weapon and get in the truck. We have a long day ahead of us.” He walks away while muttering something along the lines of “bloodbath.”

Huh? Bloodbath? What is he talking about? Curiosity runs rampant in your mind as you continue the procedure to sign out a weapon. Once finished, you’re sitting in the truck as it begins it’s bumpy drive to the town.

“Did y’all hear? Apparently lots of rats were executed last night?” You hear Vince gossip. “They deserve it. Breaking the laws as they see fit. Not following the rules.”

“Vince, do I need to remind you again why we’re here?” You say this in between counting the minutes it takes to get you to town.

“What the fuck did you say? You’re always running your mouth, eh? I’ll show you today what happens when women don’t keep their mouths shut.” With that, he turns his back to you and continues talking about the massacre.

Yes, Vince. I’ll show you today. I’ll make sure you look real pretty. These types of thoughts occupy your mind until you reach your destination.

“Roll out, everyone. It’s a sight to see that’s for sure but don’t forget why we are here. Get to it.”

You hop out of the truck with your stun gun at the ready. With a quick look around, you notice you’re at the same spot as yesterday. Except today there’s red everywhere. On the ground. The walls. The windows. It was as if some giant had painted the town red with it’s paintbrush.

“Go around each body and count them. L/N, you go to the west quarter. The same store you were at yesterday.”

You follow his orders and head back to the store but your heart is racing. You’re wondering if that little girl

Is okay. The dog. If they know you took the name of the dead soldier. You hear Vince behind you and you stop.

“Why are you following me?” You try to keep your expression cool.

“Was told to keep an eye on you. Figures. Can't trust women to do shit.” He shoves into your shoulder as he walks past you.

A couple of minutes pass but you’re finally at the store. Lining the entrance are black body bags. Three to be exact. One of them looks small. You head towards it and gently unzip it. You pause to take a deep breath before unzipping it completely. Laying there, as if frozen in time, is the little girl from yesterday. She looks so peaceful aside from the giant hole in her chest. Your eyes follow her until you notice her tiny hand is holding onto something. Checking your surroundings to make sure Vince isn’t near you, you try to open up her fist. It’s hard as the body has already started decomposing but soon enough you’re able to open her hand. Laying inside, shiny as the day you gave them to her, are the coins.

You zip the bag once again and get up to walk away. Who would do such a thing? Why didn’t she run away? The familiar hot feeling of tears starts to form in your eyes. No. Not now. Not here.

“What’s the matter? Did that sight make you sick, whore? It makes me feel euphoric. Seeing a pest get what it deserves.” Vince continues to rattle on disgusting things about the little girl but you’ve heard enough. You’ve seen enough. You try to control the red haze that is clouding your vision as you cannot afford to lose your temper here. Not when you’re so close.

A small bark catches your attention and the dog from yesterday comes running up to you, whining.

“Let me take care of that, L/N. I’ll let you have your little female moment.” Vince says as he heads to grab the dog by the scruff. Just before his hands touch the dog, you break your silence.

“Touch that dog, and I’ll chop off your fucking hands, Vince.” He pauses in shock and looks at you, eyebrows raised.

“Excuse me?” He sounds to be in shock but you can’t understand why.

“Did I stutter? Do you want me to break it down for your small pea sized brain? You touch the dog. You die.”

Vince slowly walks closer to you, like a predator stalking its prey. “What do you think you can do to me, huh? I’m twice your size. I have more fighting experience than you. I was raised on the streets. What do you honestly think you can do to me, Y/N?” He is now standing toe to toe with you.

You raise your gaze to meet his, eyes darkening. You open your mouth to tell him to back off but he lowers his head right towards your ear and whispers “Do you think you’re all that because you got orders to kill me?”

Your entire body freezes. How did he know?

“Wow. The look on your face right now, amazing. It’s kind of turning me on. Now, you think you’re the only one on some type of mission here but we all want out. Some of us were fortunate to make connections. Others, not so much. Let me give you some advice, girl. You should go home. Take care of your family. Before they’re gone.” He raises his hand to pat your shoulder. “Did you remember to turn off the burner this morning? I think your mother forgot to turn it off last night.”

After the mention of your family, you’re already running. You can hear the dog running behind you, barking, but you're focused on getting back home. Knowing it will take you at least an hour on foot to get back home, you head towards the truck. The driver is asleep on the wheel. You quickly knock your knuckles on the window, waking him up.

“I need to get back home.” He laughs at your requests and tells you to fuck off. Wrong move. You shatter the window with your elbow, unlock the door, and drag him out.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He tries to reach for his comms but you rip it out of his ear and stomp on it.

“You say another word and I’ll kill you.” Shoving him aside, you jump into the driver's seat. Right before you close the door, the dog jumps in, making himself comfortable on the front seat.

No time to kick him out, you start the truck and speed off. In the rear view mirror, you can see the driver attempting to chase you. With your foot on the gas, you press it harder, causing the truck to lurch forward in a burst.

“L/N! Return the truck! That is an order!” Your C.O, yells through your comms. You wince at the volume and just rip it out of your ear.

It seems like forever has passed before you’re at the base of the mountain. Quickly putting the truck in park, you run out and up the mountain.

Please. Please be okay. You keep running at full speed. Tumbling over rocks and forgotten branches. You start to smell the familiar scent of fire. No. God, please no.

Right in front of you, is your small house, engulfed in flames. The fire tore everything in its path, leaving a desolate trail of only ash and rubble. Your mother. Your father. Your brother. You fall to your knees as the flame gets bigger and bigger.

“MOTHER! FATHER! BROTHER!” You desperately scream in hopes that one of them will answer. The scalding heat of the flames start to reach you.

The dog from earlier is barking at a pile of what used to be your wooden shed. It starts to try to drag one piece of wood off but it’s too big. “What are you doing?” you whisper.

“Y/N.” What was that? The ghost of your family calling out to you? Or the wind playing games. You hear it again.

“Y/N.” This time it’s louder and it’s coming from the pile the dog was digging at. You crawl towards it and start digging.

“Y/N, help me.” It’s your brother’s voice. Finally moving aside enough rubble to see his face, you start to cry tears of relief.

“Brother, are you okay?” You ask in desperation but more removal of rubble reveals a horrid detail. Your brother’s body is no longer intact. There’s blood everywhere.

“Where were you, Y/N?” He asks between laboured breaths. “I was waiting for you.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Please don’t speak. I’ll try to get help.” You get up to get said help but your brother's faint grasp on your hand stops you.

“Y/N. I don’t think you can find the help I need here. I can’t feel my legs.”

“No. Please don’t say that.” You grab his hand in both of yours and hold it to your forehead. “I can’t. I don’t know how to do this.”

“You can and you will. I know I’m only ten but I’m pretty mature. I know it’s hard for you to interact with people but you’re a good person and an even better sister. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“I will try my hardest not to.” This can’t be happening.

“I think I have to go now. I love you.” Life slowly starts to fade from his eyes right as he finishes his sentence.

You start to cry. Heart wrenching sobs free themselves from your chest. You’re making sounds you didn’t know you were capable of making. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You can’t see. You're utterly and completely broken.

As you sit there, still holding his hand, you move your gaze to your house to see it now completely consumed by the flames. You’re broken. What happened? How did Vince know about your orders? Who executed this order?

With the sound of the dog barking, you make a vow. You make a vow to head into the walls and destroy anyone and anything in your path until the person who killed your family is begging for their life in front of you. You vow.

Taglist: @porcoqalliard @lue-arlert @coffeeforday @sunshinedragonofthewest @oh-theseus @levis-hazelnut

#aot #attack on titan fanfic #levi x y/n #dystopian au #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #snk

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years ago

Text

Let your Warmth melt my Ice

You all know I like emotional destruction, right? Well strap in, because this post by the amazing @nock-and-bolt hit me right in the feels. Had to write a short to it. Also tagging @janjan-the-ninth because they said so XD Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: Temporary character death, grief, misunderstanding)

[Warning: Critical damage detected. Shutdown imminent.]

Nines was already on the ground by the time he had realised those bullets had indeed hit him and that there had been more enemies than anticipated as he had rushed in. He still heard the gunshots around him, the people shouting, barking orders and screaming in pain. His systems were still busy locating each position and making tactical calculations based on this information. Still prompting him to continue, to shield his friends and protect them. Apparently, his systems hadn’t caught up with the fact that he was minutes from death. True death. This body wasn’t able to function anymore and the loss of Thirium meant his hardware would run hot and eventually melt. There was no way for him to survive this.

His fingers started to spasm from wires shortcutting. His vision glitched and his analysis program darted from one detail to the next. Was there still gunfire? It was hard to concentrate, to filter sensory information and not get lost in a confusing mess of signalling. He felt how some non-vital systems began to shut off and left his mind a little less crowded, a little less confusing. Gavin, his thoughts managed to form conscious words again. Where was he? Was he safe? He tried saying the name, forming it with his voicebox but never hearing it as his auditory systems malfunctioned briefly. Next were his legs and torso, but he never regained feeling there. He was about to try again, as a face appeared in his vision.

‘Nines? Nines!’ Those words were like balm on his soul. Those special sounds only the human could speak like that, this special melody they used to create meaning. This name he had been given by the same person that meant so much to him. ‘Nines! Can you hear me? Nines?’ The android registered he was lifted up by Gavin and propped against a wall. He could see the human touch his wounds and press his hands on them as if that would help in any way. ‘Nines! Phcking asshole, say something!’ Nines tried once again to say his name, but his voicebox was already damaged, only static making it out of the small speaker. If anything, it made the human even more anxious. ‘Nines. Nines, phck!’

[Warning: Commencing Shutdown. Begin upload?]

Upload. Right. Nines knew it was likely for nothing. He was the only model ever produced and therefore unique. But still, an upload of his memories and personality matrix was something to continue living with. If what they did was living and if their programming was a soul like most humans were proclaiming, then maybe the upload could safe him. Keep him alive, even if there was no immediate body to switch to. Maybe someone valued him enough to rebuild or design anew.

Gavin certainly would.

Gavin.

[Upload started… 1%]

‘Nines, what’s going on? Your LED flickers! What- No.’ Nines managed to lift his eyes to the human’s face. He was kneeling next to him, holding him upright against the wall and trying frantically to stop the blood flow. If he had been human, it might have worked. ‘No, no, no, you are not dying! You are not!’ His face showed despair, shock, pain. All for him. All Nines had ever wanted for him was to be happy. Now he was the reason he wasn’t.

[Upload at 26%]

Nines didn’t want to see him like this. Nines wanted to see his smile again. Those green eyes sparkling in the light of the sun when they spent their break outside on the bench. He wanted to hold his human and comfort him. He wanted to be there for him. He wanted to make sure he was safe on future missions. He wanted to reach the day when he could finally tell him what he was sure Gavin never wanted to hear. He wanted to… do so many things. ‘Nines! Please. Tell me what to do! Cyberlife’s contacted, Jericho too. Help’s on the way. Hold on. Stay with me.’ There were tears on the man’s face as he swallowed and looked at him in panic. Don’t panic, Nines wanted to say. You will live, he thought. I protected you. But those words were never spoken.

[Upload at 63%]

Nines felt more and more systems shut down due to overheating and misfiring of vital sensors. It wasn’t long now, and he needed his last moments to remember. His eyes had never left Gavin’s, but now the android tried to form a smile on his face that he hoped to express everything it needed to. Hoping that it would calm down the human and be how he remembered him. As long as he still could, Nines lifted his arm and hated how it jerked back and forth and never reached its goal. His motor control was malfunctioning and the servo itself too damaged to work at full capacity. Nines’ arm hovered over his chest, reaching for Gavin’s face. Thankfully the human got the message and took his arm to help him direct it so his hand cupped his cheek.

Warm. Nines had been fascinated from the start how warm humans could be. Like they were constantly overheating and radiating their energy into the world. Those creatures couldn’t be described better in his eyes. Exhaling love with every breath and being compassionate beings always looking out for the wellbeing of others, even when the person was described as an asshole, like Gavin. Gavin cared. He was just hurt one too many times and now Nines would add to it.

[Upload at 82%]

‘Nines! Nines, stay with me.’ Nines followed a tear that was rolling down from Gavin’s cheek and stopped as it hid his hand. His robotic hand. He hadn’t realised his skin had retracted, but he was showing off his white plastic hull on his entire body by now. When had that process shut down? ‘You bastard! Stay with me! Don’t you dare phcking dying on me!’ The android felt how he lost power over his body and sacked down, but Gavin was reacting fast, catching him and holding him in his arms. The man grabbed his arm and pulled it over Nines’ chest. ‘Nines! I swear, if you die on me, I will kill you!’ Could he still do that, Nines would have laughed. Only Gavin would curse at him, threaten him in his dying seconds.

[Upload at 96% Shutdown imminent]

Nine’s vision was getting hazy, static filling it and only leaving him his area of focus: Gavin’s panicked face. He couldn’t feel the warmth of Gavin’s touch anymore, could only see and hear. ‘Nines, please. Please, I need you, you plastic prick! Don’t you dare do this to me!’

[Upload finished. Shutting down…]

Gavin lifted him to his chest and buried his face in Nines’ drenched clothes. ‘You can’t leave me, you phcking asshole! Because I… I love you.’

Nines hadn’t had any more time to process this.

[Shutdown]

Gavin’s day had been completely normal. It was surprising how normal his days had been lately. People around him were chatting, laughing at each other’s jokes and discussing the new shop around the corner. He was driving through a city that continued life as usual whenever he got to work or back home. Crime scenes were coming up and vanishing, cases came and went. Reports were written and evidence filed. But the chair in front of Gavin stayed empty. The terminal remained switched off.

All the little trinkets Nines had gathered on his desk and considered skilful decoration gathered dust. No one had the heart to put them away. Just as no one had thought to hire a new person. Not when there still was a chance that Nines could come back. Gavin looked down on his hands that mindlessly fidgeted with a small ring. Normally shining blue, yellow or lastly red, it was now just a dark circle in white plastic. But it was something to cling to, something to remember. Just in case. Just in case Nines didn’t come-

No. No, he had to. The android had uploaded his personality to Cyberlife as a failsafe. And although there was no body for him, Jericho had bullied the company to build a new one. With the blow Cyberlife had to take to their image, it hadn’t taken much. Gavin had hope they could make it. Maybe it was all he had. In any scenario, he had never thought for the android to die first. Almost completely bullet proof, the chance of him dying… Well, Gavin had considered it zero at this point. That was about the only reason he hadn’t said what he told the dying android long ago. Thinking they had time…

He sighed deeply, looking over to his mug and tilting it a bit to look inside. Empty. Of course. He groaned. He really didn’t want to get out of his chair. He had no motivation for anything anymore and even a trip to the breakroom could as well had been a journey around the earth. The more surprised he was as a new mug was placed next to his. Steaming and filled to the rim. Gavin looked at it, brain lagging behind. The hand that was holding the handle lingered for just a second, then retracted. Gavin’s eyes followed the movement and were directed to a white uniform. Black details at the opening and the pockets, a ridiculously high collar and then… That stupidly beautiful face.

Gavin’s throat went dry. ‘Nines?’, he croaked disbelievingly. ‘Are you… phck, are you Nines?’ The android in front of him lowered his head a bit, then nodded. ‘Yes. It’s me. Cyberlife rebuild my body and I thought to return to work as soon as possible. I left you long enough with both our-‘ He couldn’t finish, as Gavin stood up and grabbed him by the jacket to push him against the glass separating the desk from the hallway. ‘You asshole died in my arm and all you can think about is work?’ He let go of the android, swallowing his emotions. Damn, the android had just returned from the dead, he should be happy. ‘I… I’m sorry for the trauma I’ve caused you. I’m fine again. I just thought we could get back to normal?’

Gavin looked at the android and swallowed for real this time. Hell, how would dying feel like? All Gavin wanted to do is shake Nines and tell him how relieved he was and how good it was to see him again and how bad he managed living on without him and also ask how he felt about what Gavin had asked him in the very end. Because he was ready to make up excuses for that, if the android didn’t feel that way and oh would it help him if Nines felt the same…

But exactly how Gavin managed trauma like that – with his thoughts running at hundred miles an hour and his only reaction anger and brashness – Nines might need the exact opposite: Calmness and time to think and reset. He was an android after all. Maybe all that programming and logic had some use after all. Gavin nodded and instead hugged Nines’ middle. ‘It’s good to have you back, tin-can.’ The android didn’t move to return the hug but stood there rather awkwardly. ‘Thanks…’ Gavin stepped back and let go of the man. ‘Err… yeah, sure. Let’s… let’s get back to work, shall we? And if you… want to talk about what happened or… what that makes you feel… I’m right here.’ ‘Thank you’, Nines smiled and that smile almost made everything alright again.

The android moved over to his terminal, switched it on and interfaced with it, while dusting off his belongings with the other hand. Gavin too returned to his work. As if it was just another day.

Nines was thankful to be back. He remembered not believing it might work, but Cyberlife had harboured his soul in their servers and Jericho had actually managed to move them to build a new body for him. It felt like he had never been gone, as he stepped foot back into the precinct. He had of course been the centre of attention then, but he still managed to surprise Gavin and that was all he had needed to feel that warmth again. As the human had hugged him… It had been heaven on earth. Metaphorically. From his own experience if android heaven was a dusted Cyberlife server, then this was much better.

He had enjoyed the unexpected contact far too much, his systems overwhelmed by the sudden motions that he had actually frozen for a few moments. He was actually surprised Gavin had taken it so well. From his last memories before his deactivation, he had expected there to be more tears… more emotions. But then again, maybe Gavin had already grieved for him. It had been two weeks after all. Maybe he had just been relieved he was back and now was eager to get back to normality. Or he suppressed his emotions as usual until they weren’t too intense to handle. Either way, Nines wouldn’t start a conversation with him, not unless he initiated one first. He had caused the human his pain after all. Gavin would have to chose when was the right time.

Unfortunately, even the next day, nothing changed. Gavin had no interest in opening the talk and even seemed to avoid him. If anything, he was growing more distant, seemingly wanting to tell him something when he left for his home, but never actually speaking up. It hurt. It hurt somewhere deep inside Nines. The android was feeling so much, even looking at the human caused him software instability. But he didn’t dare to tell the man. Gavin hadn’t said something when he was in emotional turmoil because of his impending death. Surely, he would have done that if he felt something. And with how he always pulled a face at seeing publicly displayed affection, maybe he didn’t want to hear it either.

Nines loved the human. He wanted to deepen their relationship. He had died to protect Gavin and he would do so again and again, if he had to. But with how Gavin kept to himself and didn’t even acknowledge him some days, Nines really doubted that was what the human wanted.

Gavin was beyond disappointed. He would have been angry hadn’t that felt too much of a defeat. The android had had the audacity to die in his arms catching multiple bullets for him and then ghost him like that? Gavin had confessed his love to the plastic prick in a moment of vulnerability and now the damn android just pretended nothing had happened? “Detective”-d him at any given moment and displayed no more emotion than before their mission? Hell, if he wasn’t interested, Nines could have just said so. This was just an asshole move. And two could play that game of ignorance. It didn’t matter to Gavin that his soul was bleeding with every stumbled ‘Oh. Okay.’ from the android whenever Gavin shoved him away further. He was far too angry for it. And it only got worse during the week.

Friday finally was the day, that promised Gavin refuge. He wouldn’t have to see the android on the weekend and have time to come to terms with his contradicting feelings. Then, on Monday, he would just tell the android and be done with it. No more dancing around each other, trying to find out how the other felt and watch out for the other’s wellbeing. He decided to leave early and switched off his computer grabbing his jacket as he stood up. ‘Gavin?’ Oh hell no. If the android continued to speak with him, he would resort to violence at this point. He was hurt and confused and done, so, so done with it all. So, he just turned around and left. Only once he left the building and heard the door fall into the lock behind him, he sighed and took a deep breath of the grounding cold February air.

He shouldn’t have stopped. ‘Gavin!’ The door behind him opened and Nines stumbled out of it, coming to a halt everything but gracefully. His LED was a dark red and Gavin didn’t want to think of what that reminded him of. ‘What do you want?’, Gavin spat. ‘I want to talk with you. About what happened. I held myself back until now because I know this might have been traumatic for you and-‘ ‘Phck off! You died in my arms! You know, you are right, that might have been traumatic for me, phckhead!’ ‘I apologize for that, but-‘ ‘Oh, you apologize?’ Gavin turned around and walked right into the android’s personal space. ‘You apologize? For what exactly? Dying? Ignoring me? Disregarding that I laid out my heart in front of you and you decided to step on it?’

Nines took a step back and frowned. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘What- What do I mean?’, Gavin wheezed in disbelief. ‘Ex-phcking-cuse me? I mean that I told you I love you! You died in my arms and I thought if this was your last moment and you died for me, I could as well tell you that! Maybe made it a bit easier for you. Less hurtful. Phck, what have I been thinking? You are just a damn machine, you don’t phcking feel. Or at least not in that way. Because hell, I tell you that, let you into my heart and when you come back, you hand me a coffee and go straight back to work?’

‘Wait’, Nines said, holding up his hand. ‘Wait, Gavin. Your last words to me were: “Don’t you dare do this to me!”’ He blinked. ‘Or were they?’ Gavin clenched his jaws. ‘No, asshole they weren’t! My last words to you were that I loved you!’ ‘When was that? Right before I shut down? Was my LED still flickering?’ ‘How the hell should I know?’, Gavin asked, throwing his hands in the air. ‘You were dying in my arms; I don’t think I had more important things on my mind than your stupid mood light!’ ‘Gavin, this is important’, Nines said, stepping forwards and holding the man by the shoulders. ‘Was it less than two seconds before my body went rigid?’ Gavin shrugged. ‘Yeah, could be. Why?’

Nines let go of him and had to sit down on the stairs in front of the station. ‘Gavin, I uploaded my memory to Cyberlife as soon as I knew I would die. It recorded everything up to two seconds before my death, because it takes a bit of time to end the Upload and shut down the body. I… I might have heard it and understood it as I was dying, but I… the backup of me that I am now has no memory of you telling me that.’

Gavin stared at the android and processed what he just heard. Then he sat down next to Nines on the stairs and stared blankly ahead. ‘Phck.’ ‘Fuck indeed.’ ‘And all the time I thought you were just a work-centred prick ignoring me.’ ‘I wouldn’t have ignored it had I known it, Gavin, I’m sorry.’ Gavin rubbed his face in frustration. Phck, he just wanted this day to be over.

But Nines didn’t let him end it just yet. He cleared his throat and looked over at the human that had nearly folded in on himself. ‘Err… Do you… Do you really love me?’ Gavin lifted his head up, his fingers resting on his mouth. He looked at Nines from the corner of his eyes, only then letting his hands slap on his knees. ‘Yes, I guess’, he sighed. ‘No, yeah I do. I was so angry at you all phcking week it won’t be a heartfelt confession now, but I do love you. The way you’re just… Always there for me and care so much. Most would just pretend not to have seen me and move on. You sought me out. You are actually funny and intelligent and competent. And you are phcking hot, okay? I feel so much for you and seeing you die… I couldn’t handle it. I think the hope you would come back to me kept me going.’ There was a brief moment of silence.

‘I love you too, Gavin’, Nines answered in a whisper. ‘I can’t understand how I am the one lucky enough to got to know you when so many others had their chance before me, but I am happy fate chose me. I… I can’t express how I feel as I shouldn’t be feeling at all as an android. But I do and I wanted to tell you for so long. I just always thought you didn’t want to hear something like that…’ ‘Nines?’, the human spoke up and turned towards him. Nines followed his movement and his eyes naturally found their way to Gavin’s, who smiled. ‘Nines, this was the only thing I ever needed to hear.’

Nines blinked, but didn’t have the time to answer, as Gavin laid an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Once again, Nines froze up, but Gavin’s warmth quickly made him melt into the touch. Soon enough, he would have to think about all of this to process what he just heard, but for now…

For now, he enjoyed this.

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #Does this count as they are idiots?#they are idiots #Ah damn I loved writing this just all the angst and fluff and aaaaa #also two pages of Nines death I guess???#I had fun #I'm sorry for the feels

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