#Knives: Wh....what was that second part

[buccellato]

there's one dynamic that I never see in fics that I think would be super funny, and that is that Vash is super proficient in some incredibly niche but wildly unhinged plant thing that Knives is both not aware of but also incredibly freaked out by

[marvelstoriesepic]

Like a Phoenix (1)

Pairing: Mercenary!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Series Summary: An attack on your palace thrusts your only hope for survival into the hands of a mercenary who is forced to protect you, all due to a vow he made many years before. Though, those are circumstances neither of you have chosen.

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: Bucky is a dick; mentions of murder, fire, death, knives; loss of parents; sexism; violence; prejudices

Author’s note: First part. Hope you enjoy! I'd be happy if you let me know what you think ♡

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

The evening went well. Or that’s what you tell yourself every single time.

You played your part impeccably - every nod, every word, every glance, and every smile was measured and graceful.

Even the rivals among the lords seemed charmed tonight.

You didn’t really catch a glimpse of your father, but that is nothing new to you.

Thankfully, you could spend a little time with your mother before the banquet began. She always insists on braiding your hair for formal events. Usually, that was meant to calm you down when you were little but she still insists on doing it, despite the fact that those formalities don’t matter to you anymore.

They always leave you feeling uncomfortable, like you are merely a sculpture to be appraised.

Tonight’s garment had been chosen with precision. Of course not from you. You don’t get to choose your own clothes. They are softly lilac colored silken folds, embroidered with delicate threads of gold to catch the light. It hugs your frame in a way meant to flatter but left you feeling exposed the whole evening.

You play your part, but you hate it.

The music, the scent of roasted meats, the spiced wine, the laughter of guests - it’s always the same. You scarcely even remember what kind of occasion today’s banquet even marked.

All you remember are the gazes lingering on your body.

Men who have long since passed their prime looked upon you with the hungry eyes of wolves, their smiles a thin veneer of civility. Their eyes did not see a girl barely stepping into adulthood, they saw a prize. A princess. A pawn in the great game of power.

Gazes can move away but the heat of every single one lingers. You still feel it on your collarbones, the curve of your neck, the way the gown cinches at your waist.

Your worth is measured not by your thoughts or your dreams, but by the alliances your hand could forge.

You despise it.

But your father doesn’t care. He doesn’t look out for you in situations like that. He just expects you to play the part you are meant to. And sadly, you do. Because you don’t have a choice. This is what your life was meant to be.

Only your mother would notice the way your shoulders always stiffen when a lord leans too close or the way you avoid the wine, lest you dull your senses in a room full of predators.

She would smile at you kindly, reassuringly, probably trying to give you some strength in knowing that she understands what it feels like. And you do appreciate her gesture.

But even her love and her sympathy can not unbind you from the duties imposed by your birth.

You wanted to scream the second you stepped into the great hall. You wanted to tear the silken gown from your body, strip away the gold and jewels, and stuff them into the faces of the many greedy men. You wanted to shout until your voice grew hoarse.

But you can not.

You are a princess.

A princess does not scream. She does not cry. She does not falter.

Your life is not your own. Your voice is not your own. Even your smile belongs to the court, to the crown, to the men who watch you with eyes that devour.

Sometimes, you long for freedom. But what does freedom even mean?

You have no frame of reference for a life beyond these walls, these duties, these suffocating expectations.

The world outside the palace is unknown to you - a mystery, a threat, a promise so far out of reach.

And yet, as you sat at the banquet table just hours before, smiling politely at a lord who complimented your gown while his eyes lingered far too long, you thought even the unknown would be better than this.

So now, back from hell, you are so ready to get into bed and sleep your misery away as you try every day. It hasn’t entirely worked out yet, but a princess can hope.

The tight corset, the layers of silken skirts, the necklace that hangs heavy - all symbols of your station, all unbearable tonight. Every night.

A maid is at your side, about to loosen the clasps at your wrists and shoulders to let the gown slip away.

You’re ready to let it pool around your feet and step into your robe, letting the candlelight brush and warm your collarbone and bask in the silence of the faded music from the hall below.

But before anything of that can happen, there is no silence anymore.

It’s distant at first, muffled. Unrecognizable.

But the sounds grow louder, sharper, and the hands of the maid freeze. You do too.

A roar pierces the stone walls, then another, and another. Steel clashes.

A scream, then another, and another.

Those aren’t screams of surprise, or anger, or perhaps the aftermath of too much alcohol. No, those are long, guttural wails that make your blood run dry.

Death spills over into sounds just outside your doors.

Your candle wavers as the ground beneath your feet seems to tremble. You clutch the edge of the dressing table to steady yourself.

It is as though the palace itself is exhaling its last breath.

The doors to your chambers burst open with a force that sends the wooden panels crashing against the walls.

Your lady screams at the sound.

You spin around, equally in fear, heart leaping to your throat and almost spilling over into a sound as well.

A relieved exhale flutters out of your body at the face you see.

It is Sir Barton.

He has always been there, from your earliest memories. You see him more often than your own father, though his face now is drawn, pale, and streaked with soot. His blond hair is usually meticulously combed, but now it’s disheveled, and his armor bears fresh scratches and bloodstains.

His chest rises and falls with ragged breaths and his eyes - fierce and determined, but aching with something more - lock onto yours.

“Your Highness,” he says, his voice breaking through the panic. “You must come. Now!”

He doesn’t spare a glance at the hyperventilating lady hiding behind your dresser. And after you take a second too long to follow him, he steps forward and grabs your arm - not with the gentleness of a knight guiding royalty but with the desperation of a man trying to save a life.

He leads you out.

“What is happening?” you whisper, a shudder raking down your spine at the way the sounds are getting so much more real with each step you take.

“The palace is under attack,” Sir Barton says, eyes still focused forward. “They’ve breached the outer gates. We don’t have much time.”

He seems to feel you hesitate because his grip tightens on you. His steps don’t falter.

The hallways are dark and thick with the acrid stench of smoke. Shouts echo from all sides, some distant, some too close.

Barton shields you with his body as a deafening crash shakes the walls, sending dust raining from the ceiling.

“This way,” he commands and you have no choice but to follow him blindly, clutching at his cloak.

At one point, he stops abruptly, pressing you into the shadow of an archway, shielding you again and only turning to you after the commotion turned far away. His face is grim, his voice a whisper.

“Stay close to me, no matter what happens. Do you understand?”

You nod, though your throat is too tight to form words.

The air in the tunnels he leads you through is cold and damp, pressing in from every side. But you can barely feel it. Your legs burn from the fast pace Sir Barton holds, your lungs clawing for breath.

Sir Barton's tight grip on your wrist is the only thing you can latch on in this darkness. His armor clinks with every step.

You don’t ask him where you are going. But there is a question you need to ask.

“Where are my parents? Where is Mother? Are they both led here as well? Will they follow us?”

Alright, perhaps more than one question.

Seconds stretch without an answer. His armor still clinks. He squeezes your wrists - a warning not to ask further. A warning not to expect an answer.

Something creeps into your mind, something insidious and cold.

Sir Barton guides you into a small alcove carved into the rock, barely wide enough for the two of you. His shoulders heave heavily and you make out the glistening of sweat on his face even in the darkness.

You open your mouth again, taking a breath, but his expression stops you.

Sir Barton, the unshakable knight, the man who stood at your father’s side for decades, looks broken. His usually grey eyes are shadowed. His lips are parted, but no sound comes out, the weight of what he has to say even too much for him.

His jaw is tight. There is a tiny shake of his head as he releases a breath that cracks you open right in the middle, leaving a gaping hole where your heart once was.

And in that shatter, you linger. You don’t know if you’ll ever get out.

Because you know what his silence means.

“No.” the word is barely audible. You stumble in your steps. “No. They can’t be. Don’t tell me they’re gone. They… They’re not!”

More silence. More tension.

“No!” You shake your head, stepping back until your shoulders hit the cold, rough stone. Your legs feel as though they might give way beneath you.

“Your Highness.”

Sir Barton takes hold of your arm again. Almost roughly. His voice is clipped, his breath is broken. But there is vehemence in his words. Something deep weighed, but strong and determined as he meets your eye intensely, gripping you hard.

“I feel deep regret for their loss. But I swore an oath to protect you. And I will keep it.”

With that, he hauls you forward again, falling into his fast pace.

You can’t help but follow. You let yourself get dragged.

The tunnels seem unending. And although the screams and the tumult are no longer in earshot, every sound you hear feels like a betrayal. Every footstep, every breath a reminder that your parents would breathe no more.

Your thoughts are wild things, crashing against the confines of your skull - flashes of your mother's sweet smile, your father's stern but still warm eyes, the sudden attack with the screams, and the clashes, and the steel.

Grief is an excruciating pain. Your breaths are trapped, pounding on the walls of the cage that is your chest. Begging for release. Your heart still seems to be missing. Or it simply is divided into so tiny pieces it feels like it vanished entirely. It disappeared into the crack of the earth, giving way to roots, the tremor of something breaking open to grow.

Grief is the fullness of too much.

Too much feeling, too much meaning, too much of the world compressing itself into a single-held breath.

And that breath lingers.

Not because it cannot rise, but because rising would undo you.

The tunnels end.

You don’t even know how long you’ve been walking them, but you emerge into a hollow chamber, dimly lit by flickering torchlight. The air is colder here, less stagnant. It smells faintly of earth and steel. Your pulse quickens.

There is a man.

He stands there, leaning against the far wall, the flicker of firelight wildly illuminating the sharp planes of his face.

He didn’t move when you entered, not even a shift of his shoulders. He remains standing there, utterly unbothered, casually sharpening his blade against the whetstone in his hand, as though your arrival is an inconvenience rather than an event of consequence.

His leather armor looks worn, clinging to his tall frame as if he’s been wearing it for years.

His hair is dark, a smooth chestnut brown, and it is unruly, curling slightly at his temples as though it had been left to grow wild for too long.

He looks like a mercenary. He probably is one.

You try to find strength in Sir Barton's solid presence beside you. He doesn’t seem surprised at this man being here. More like, he is relieved.

The mercenary sighs, long and exaggerated, as if this entire meeting is a chore he’s been dragged into against his will.

He tugs the blade back into its holster at his side, throwing the stone casually aside and the clank of it against the ground sounds out loud enough for you to shrink into yourself ever so slightly.

Slowly, the man pushes himself off the wall with the effortless poise of a predator, standing to his full, imposing height.

He is still a little distance away from you, but you find your skin prickle when his gaze falls over you. He seems utterly unimpressed.

His eyes struck you. They are icy, strategic. It’s not the first thing that comes to mind when you think of the color blue. However, that’s the essence of the blue in his eyes.

He doesn’t regard you as a princess. He regards you as a problem.

“Your Highness,” he says, his voice a low, gravelly drawl that makes the title sound more like an insult than an honor.

He gives the faintest bow, a mockery of decorum, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk that barely hides his amusement.

This man regards you with the same detached air he might afford a stranger begging for coin.

His posture remains loose, almost insolent, and yet there is something in the way he carries himself that warns you not to mistake his casual attitude for weakness.

“Is this it, Barton?” he asks, turning his sharp gaze to the knight, who stands protectively at your side. “This is the prize you want me to bleed for?” He raises a single brow, arms crossed over his chest, his expression one of sardonic disbelief. His voice is rough, perhaps shaped by years of commanding others or cursing the world.

He throws you a single, apathetic glance. His smile turns into a sneer. “She seems awfully fragile to be worth the trouble.”

Your cheeks burn with anger and humiliation. Perhaps you are, in a sense, fragile. Your hands have never gripped a sword, your feet have never trudged through mud and blood, and the realization that your parents are no longer alive threatens to make you crumble right then and there.

But his dismissal feels like an assault on everything you still hold within yourself.

You open your mouth to respond, but the words are sticky and stay clinging to the back of your throat, the glue being grief and exhaustion.

Sir Barton, however, steps forward, his voice low and authoritative.

“She is not your concern to judge,” he firmly declares. “She is your charge, whether you like it or not.”

There is a pause. Sir Barton stands rigid and straight before he continues. His words seem to have trouble coming out but he still makes them sound strong. But you can see the strain in his jaw, the slight tremor in his hand as he adjusts his grip on the pommel of his sword. “Your Majesties - The King and Queen - are no longer with us.”

You flinch, breath catching sharply.

The mercenary stands still. Dark brows shoot up in genuine surprise, though his face remains otherwise unreadable. The contrast is startling, though. His indifference was disrupted by that sharp, flickering reaction.

His surprise unsettles you. His lips part slightly, but whatever words have formed behind them don’t emerge. For a fleeting second, his hard, smug veneer cracks, but just as quickly it reassembles itself.

He purses his lips, looking at the wall for a few moments. His face smooths into something almost deliberately blank. Then his eyes narrow slightly, and though his expression is hard to read, there is something dark and bitter there. But what scares you is the tiny glimpse of satisfaction.

“They’re dead,” he grounds out almost flatly and you find yourself flinching again.

The mercenary gives a sharp, mirthless laugh, the sound echoing painfully. He shakes his head, smile slipping from his face. “Well.” His tone is laced with bitterness. An air of irritation floats around him as he exhales sharply through his nose. “I do believe that changes things,” he then sneers.

Your heart is pounding so drastically, you hope it doesn’t echo around the room as well. You try to breathe as silently as possible. Barton's eyes gleam fiercely as he takes another step toward the man. The mercenary meets his gaze with raised eyebrows, not backing down, not bothered in the slightest.

“I am sure you have not forgotten, Barnes. Do not make me remind you.”

The mercenary - Barnes, you guessed - narrows his eyes, a flicker crossing his features. “I have not forgotten,” he says, voice quiet, almost a growl.

“You swore to protect what mattered to her. You swore to see her will be carried forward. You swore an oath to her. What mattered to her still lives. The princess lives. She is what the Queen cherished above all else, and it is her safety you are bound to protect.”

You watch Barnes’s jaw tighten, displeasure clear on his features.

“You will protect her daughter. Therewith, the oath will be discharged.”

Barnes’s gaze flickers to you, and for the first time, you see something other than indifference or scorn in his eyes. It isn’t kindness, not for a long shot, more like conflict. As though he is weighing you, judging you against the memory of the woman who had once earned his loyalty. The woman that is your mother. Or was your mother, you acknowledge with a lump in your throat.

“I swore to protect what mattered to her. But I did not know it would be her daughter. His daughter,” he spat out the last part, disdain following along his harsh tone.

Your skin is flushed, your chest is heaving, your hands curl into fists. You are confused beyond belief about what exactly is going on. It’s like you are watching yourself getting shoved off into the arms of a mercenary who couldn’t care less about your life.

You don’t know what your mother has done for this man, how deeply her actions have tied him to your family.

But you really don’t like this conversation.

Sir Barton is clearly losing his patience. “And yet, you will protect her still.” His words brook no argument. “The oath binds thee, not to the Crown, nor to me, but to the memory of the Queen. Do you mean to forsake it now?

Barnes exhales a frustrated sigh.

“Fine,” he says at last, the word dropping from his lips like a stone into a well. He straightens, his broad shoulders squaring and his hard eyes fixed on you. “I will keep you alive. But you better not expect me to bow, curtsy, or kiss your hand, your Highness. Do not expect me to coddle you. I am not your knight, and I am not your servant. I’m just the man who gets to clean up your mess.”

He then steps closer to Barton, standing almost nose to nose but none of the men back down. Barnes’s gaze is menacing. “I am a man of my word. But do not mistake my actions for loyalty to the Crown.”

“I would not dare, Bucky Barnes,” Sir Barton counters coldly.

Something twists inside you at this man’s words - anger, yes, but also something deeper, something more profound, something hard to press down.

You hate the way he dismisses you, the way he refuses to see you as more than your title.

You want to protest, to tell Sir Barton that this is a terrible idea. And that this is not his decision to make. You should have a say in who guards you, who holds your fate in their hands. Though, being realistic, you never had a say in anything. Your father always made sure of that.

And despite him not being here anymore, the safety of the palace is gone, just like your mother's love. There is no way you are getting out of here safely without some help and you hate it. You hate the fact that you have no idea how to wield a sword, throw a knife, or face the horrors of war.

You grew up in the sheltered halls of the palace, surrounded by courtiers and silks, not steel and blood.

So, Barton’s faith in this man - however misplaced it seems to you - is all that stands between you and whatever awaits beyond the damp darkness of the tunnels. It’s all that can get you out of here in one piece.

You want to hate this Bucky Barnes. To rail against the unfairness of it all - fleeing in the dead of night in a gown that is not at all suitable for an escape, weighed down by the pain of your parents’ demise, entrusted to a man who seems to care little whether you live or die.

He might have sworn to keep you alive, but that doesn’t mean he won’t happily watch you get hurt.

And yet - for all his roughness, for all his scorn - you can’t shake that there is something more to him.

He is dangerous, that much is clear, but there is also a sense of control about him, an air of competence that both reassures and unnerves you.

This man does not want to protect you.

He does not care about your title, your lineage, or your grief.

He is here because he has to be, because of a single promise he made.

You wonder if he really is a man of his word.

Bucky Barnes studies you again. His expression is hard, inscrutable. Then he says, his tone dry, almost mocking. “The road ahead will not be kind. Do not expect me to be sympathetic.”

****

You stumble forward through the tunnels.

Your limbs feel like lead, your breaths are shallow.

The air seems to have forgotten to hold you.

You don’t know how your legs keep moving, how your body is able to obey commands you no longer consciously give.

Perhaps it is the inertia of shock. The kind that shakes in your hands, makes them search for a reality that is no longer solid. The kind that makes you believe the universe is folding in on itself, a star imploding in the vastness of your chest. You are the void it leaves behind - immense, consuming, and desperately reaching for light.

But there is no light.

The tunnels are silent and dark, except for the torchlight the man in front of you carries and the footsteps that sound out. But the torchlight seems to illuminate more shadows than it chases away.

There is a distant drip of water echoing through the labyrinth but you are too tired to try and make out where it comes from.

Bucky - or Barnes - or whatever you even are supposed to call him now, moves through the darkness as though it is his domain, as if the passages yield to his command.

He scarcely takes a moment to reflect on his path, turning corners and selecting forks with an animalistic accuracy that disturbs you.

His pace is brisk, his steps calculated. There is a certain confidence, a strength, in the way he holds himself, an instinctual awareness that might have captivated you, were you not so consumed by sorrow and wariness.

Just earlier this day you had imagined leaving those constricting castle walls but it seems the freedom you had dreamed of meets you in a way you never would have thought possible.

You don’t feel like the perfect princess you played just hours earlier.

You are a disheveled figure trailing behind a stranger in the bowels of the earth.

The air is lacking the lavender and citrus of the gilded halls you walked through your whole life. Here, the air is damp, heavy with the scent of soil and decay. The stones of those walls are cold and rough, nothing like the smooth marble walls from the polished balustrades of the palace.

The man walking ahead of you hasn’t spoken a single word to you since you parted from Sir Barton.

You’re not sure if the silence is meant to intimidate or if he simply doesn’t care enough to speak.

His broad shoulders move steadily. His stride is long and swift, forcing you to half jog just to keep him in sight.

He doesn’t look back. Not once.

Maybe it's for the best, you reflect with resentment. Any word that could escape his lips would likely be brimming with animosity towards your family regardless. And distance between you and this man feels safer.

There is something coiled about him, something you can’t name but feel in the way he carries himself.

The torch he holds throws flickering light across the sharp planes of his face when he passes too near a wall.

His jaw is set, his expression grim.

His eyes - bright in color but oh so dark, when they had deigned to glance at you before - are unreadable pools of shadow, devoid of warmth.

He is not kind. He is not comforting. He is a stranger, forced into your service by circumstances neither of you have chosen.

You don’t know what desperation Sir Barton must have felt to send you away with this wild man. Bucky Barnes seems as indifferent to your survival as he is to your existence, and yet, here he is, leading you through an underground labyrinth you can only hope leads somewhere safe.

You feel the urge to speak - to inquire about where he is taking you, to seek answers, to convey the growing frustration and fear that seem ready to shatter you. Greater than you already are.

But the words flee as soon as they are formed. Leaving only the roar of nothingness.

There hasn’t been time to mourn, no time to feel.

Sir Barton had hurried you through the secret corridors under the palace, with his hold tight on your arm, and his tone tense with urgency.

He didn’t ask if you wanted to flee. He didn’t ask what you thought was best. He simply acted, as though you were another piece in this tragic game of chess, to be moved and sacrificed as necessity demanded.

You are a princess, yes. But first, you are a person. And in this moment, you feel like neither. You are a shadow following a stranger in the dark, uncertain of the path ahead or the person leading you.

But there is nothing you can do about it.

The tunnels begin to shift.

The walls widen slightly, though the ceiling remains low.

The air grows colder, fresher, carrying with it the faintest scent of pine.

You realize with a start that you must be nearing the forest. Relief and fear wars within you. The palace is behind you, but how is this supposed to go on?

Barnes slows. Finally.

He comes to a stop at a rusted iron gate, the hinges creaking in complaint as he shoves it open with one hand.

Beyond it lay a rough-hewn staircase carved into the rock, leading upward into a faint glimmer of moonlight.

He turns to glance at you for the first time since you are alone with him.

“Keep up,” he says, his voice low, and rough, and utterly devoid of warmth.

You say nothing, biting your tongue. Perhaps to stifle the frustration that threatened to shove a snarky retort out of your mouth that might lead to your early grave, or the tears that threatened to sting behind your eyes ever since you heard of your parent's passing.

Instead, you nod curtly - he isn’t even looking at you anymore to see it - and step forward, legs trembling, feet already aching, with the effort, and follow him up those stairs.

The stone steps beneath your shoes are rough - like everything in your life now as it seems.

Each step you climb seems to strip something away - your strength, your breath, your will. Each step seems to demand more from your trembling legs, every motion a reminder of how deep you’ve fallen - from grace, from safety, from everything you have ever known.

Erratic shadows move over Barnes's ahead of you, his broad frame a dark silhouette against the faint moonlight spilling down from above.

You struggle to keep up. The air is cold, sharp with the sting of frost and pine, but it does nothing to clear your thoughts.

As you reach the top of the stairs, the night sky opens before you, vast and infinite, studded with stars.

But their light is dim against the inferno that rages behind you.

You turn around slowly.

Shock and utter terror flood every single one of your senses. The world seems to pull away beneath your feet, but it does not let you fall. It lets you hover, holds you suspended in a hollow-out silence as if it means to forget about you. As if you’re not worth the fall. Meant to suffer in silence. Meant to suffer the terror of drifting in a void where even gravity has abandoned you.

Far in the distance stands your palace.

Your home for every single day of your life.

And it is all up in flames.

Consumed by them. Greedily gulped up by them.

The towers that once touched the heavens now spit fire and ash.

The gilded walls, the halls where you had danced and dined and dreamed, collapse in on themselves, devoured by the flames’s hunger.

The sight steals your breath.

Your legs give out for a moment, and you stagger, clutching the bark of a nearby tree.

Barnes notices you falter, his gaze flickering back toward you.

You don’t make a move to look at him. You don’t do anything other than stare at your life breaking apart in the distance.

But for his indifference and gruff demeanor, he does not bark at you to move along. He just stands tensely.

The flames lick at the night sky, their glow painting the darkness in hues of violent orange and crimson. Smoke rises in thick, twisting plumes, swallowing the stars, blotting out the heavens.

The great spires that had once stood so proud against the skyline now crumble beneath the viciousness of the fire. The golden banners that had fluttered in the wind just hours ago are ash now, carried in the same breeze that chills your skin.

It has been only hours - hours since you stood in the great hall, dressed in the very same silks you are still wearing, the air filled with laughter and music. The banquet, the formalities, the endless charade of being a princess - all of it suddenly feels like a lifetime ago.

You had thought it then. How it might feel to leave it all behind. How it might feel to shed the heaviness of the crown, to break free from the stifling demands and expectations that constrained you, the scrutiny of the court.

You dreamed of freedom, of a life beyond these walls. You imagined it. You wanted to see the world, to be more than a title, more than a pretty body in a gown, more than a vessel for alliances and admirations.

And now here you are, watching it all burn.

It doesn’t feel like freedom.

It doesn’t feel like anything you had dreamed of.

Your body becomes foreign, a machine running on instinct alone. Your chest heaves. Because it knows it needs air. But it doesn’t seem to get enough, judging the harsh rise and fall of your chest.

Your heart thunders, but it seems to have lost its rhythm, shaking but not steadying. It’s in panic. Pumping and pumping and pumping so much blood but where is it supposed to go?

Every room that now is a pile of ash on the ground held a memory. Every part of the castle was your home. The gardens where your mother had taught you the names of every flower growing there. The study where your father's voice sternly had shaped your understanding of duty. The kitchens where the maids had smuggled you pastries as a child.

It is all gone.

You are gone.

Your parents are gone. The King and Queen - your mother and father - are dead. Their crowns, their rule, their lives reduced to ash.

Yes, you wanted to be free. You wanted to leave this life behind but you never wanted it to happen like this. You never wanted your home to burn, your family to die, your title to become meaningless in the most violent of ways.

You wanted to leave the crown and not have it ripped away from you.

You wanted to see the world but now you aren’t sure you even have a place in it.

Swallowing the tightness in your throat, you force back the sting in your eyes.

You want to scream, to rage, to fall on your knees and weep until there is nothing left of you.

But you can’t break down now. Not here. Not now. Not in front of him.

Barnes still stands a little away from you. He has turned as well, though his expression is unreadable. His eyes reflect the firelight, the flames flickering like tiny ghosts in his gaze.

He doesn’t say anything and you are sure you don’t want him to. He surely would not tell you he is sorry.

He doesn’t look sorry at all. If anything, he looks tired. Detached. As though this is just another job, another mission. Another life going up in flames.

He simply stands there, his figure slightly outlined by the torch and the moon, waiting.

You hate him in that moment. Hate the way he stands there so calmly, so unconcerned, while your world is crumbling down. Hate that he isn’t doing a single thing to acknowledge the gravity of what had happened.

But then his gaze shifts. Just slightly. For a fleeting moment, you thought you saw something crossing his expression. A shadow of something too fleeting to name. Pity? Regret? Compassion?

No, you tell yourself. He doesn’t care. Why would he?

And he shifts then.

After all, the world hasn’t stopped for your grief, and neither would he.

A clear of his throat. “C’mon. Told you to keep up.”

He doesn’t say it unkindly, but he says it bored. Monotone. Flat. And that might just be worse.

You draw in a shaky breath and turn away from the fire, though the image remains burned into your mind. It might be reduced to ash there too, but it won’t ever be swept away by the wind.

****

You have no idea how long you’ve been dragging your body through this forest.

It seems like an eternity.

Aching legs barely lift high enough to make the next step. The soles of your feet throb in time with the pounding of your head.

Your steps are so heavy, you might think the earth sought to pull you down, to bury you beneath its roots and brambles. You might just let it.

The thin slippers you wear - so ill-suited for a flight through the wilderness - offer little protection from the rocks and gnarled roots beneath.

The tightness in your chest is beating. Thud. Thud. Thud. It might be your heart, but it doesn’t feel like it.

Each inhale burns, the night air carrying shards of glass instead of cool relief. They scratch your throat and your face heats at the effort to keep from coughing.

Your arms hang limply by your sides. They are scraped and raw from pushing against barks and thorns. Even lifting your hands to brush a stray branch from your path feels like a monumental effort at the moment.

Your fingers are pale, losing their place in the map of your body.

The trees surrounding you loom high above. They stand so close together that only the faintest slivers of moonlight dare to filter through.

There are endless shadows, all connected with each other, twisting and merging, until there is no discernible path, no way to tell where you are or where you are going.

Not that you have a clue anyway.

The shadows seem to breathe. They surround you completely, absorbing every noise except for the crunch of leaves underfoot and the sporadic hoot of an owl, which causes you to jump each time it calls out.

Even Barnes seems like a shadow himself, moving with a surety still too many steps in front of you - silent, unknowable, untouchable.

And then he is gone.

You didn’t even notice at first. You were too focused on keeping your legs moving, too consumed by the fog of your thoughts. But when you lift your gaze, he is nowhere to be seen.

The tightness in your chest keeps thudding, so loud, so sharp, so fast. Thud. So many thuds. Thud. They try to escape. Thud. Try to leave your chest all of a sudden. Thud. Escaping. Thud. Fleeing. Thud. But there is no way out. Thud. Your ribs are closing in. Thud. Your chest is a locked room with no windows.

Panic.

Wild eyes are darting around, breaths sound in your ears, hands tremble at your side so helplessly.

You knew this was a bad idea. What in the world did Sir Barton think would come out of giving you into the care of a mercenary? Those men are not to be trusted. Those men don’t care about the things they promised.

Bucky Barnes waited for the perfect moment to leave you alone. He took you out, deep into the forest, and then vanished.

He left you alone. He left you to die. He left you to rot.

You should have seen it coming and yet your heart is thundering, your world is spinning faster than you can hold.

You won’t give this man the satisfaction of calling for him. Wherever far he might have gone already.

But you wouldn’t get a word out even if you tried.

Your body becomes its own betrayal, muscles taut and trembling, teeth clenching against the unbearable roar of your own pulse.

He betrayed your mother. He betrayed Sir Barton. He betrayed you-

There he is.

Leaning against a tree, arms casually crossed over his chest, making his muscles strain under the grey shirt beneath his brown leather armor.

He looks as though he’s been waiting there for hours, watching you stumble through the dark like some clumsy, lost creature. His head tilts slightly, his face twisted in an impassive expression that doesn’t make you relax as much as you had thought.

But then the corner of his mouth tugs up in a smirk. Amusement and mild exasperation mix in his gaze, as though your panic has been nothing but entertainment and a burden for him.

Your blood boils.

He doesn’t say a word. The slight raise of his brow, the subtle shift of his weight against the tree, say everything.

He simply turns and starts walking again, knowing you will follow.

You hate him.

Oh, how much you hate him.

But unfortunately not because of his smirk, tough that certainly stokes the fire. Not because of the way he moves through the forest so effortlessly, while you struggle for every step. Not because of his silence, his cold aloofness that feels like a slap to the face every time you dare hope for some shred of kindness.

You hate him because he is right.

You are fragile.

There is nothing you can do but follow. He knows it, and you know it.

You are helpless, a princess who grew up like one, trailing after a man who barely tolerates your presence. Because the alternative is unthinkable.

You don’t know these woods. You don’t really know any woods. Don’t know what or who might lurk within them.

You hate that he holds all the power, that your life is now tethered to his whim.

You hate that he seems so unaffected by it all while you are falling apart.

You hate the world for thrusting you into this nightmare.

You hate the gods that took your parents.

You hate the crown that marked you as a target.

You hate the life you lost in the span of a single, horrific night.

But most of all, you hate yourself.

For your weakness. For your dependence. For your title. For not fighting for freedom when you started hoping for it. For not learning what freedom even meant when you started dreaming of it.

Maybe you really aren’t even worth all this.

That would make him right again.

You would love to scream at him. To demand he acknowledge you, to force him to see you as more than a burden, more than a thing to be tolerated.

However, if you don’t believe in yourself as anything other than a hassle for him, then you definitely won’t persuade him to think differently.

Your hopelessness is rewriting you into silence.

And again, you hate yourself for it.

The forest stretches on and so does your pain. And somewhere ahead, Barnes moves through the darkness, being the guide you despise but can’t abandon.

The trees are swaying above you, almost whispering like they are mourners at a funeral. Your funeral.

Barnes stopped walking.

You almost noticed it too late, nearly colliding with him, his wide back suddenly a wall in front of you.

He cast a glance over his shoulder, his sharp eyes flickering down to your trembling form before moving past you to survey the shadows.

He says nothing - he never seems to say much - but you get the sense that this is where you will stay the rest of the night.

Or at least you hope so.

Your feet won’t carry you any longer.

He turns his back to you again and moves forward.

You follow his gaze. There is a small, haphazard clearing, tucked between the roots of a tall oak.

There is nothing welcoming about it.

A rough bedroll lay crumpled near the base of the tree. Its fabric looks weathered and stained. Beside it, there are charred remains of a tiny fire pit, though the ashes are long cold.

A battered pack leans half open against the roots, some of its contents spilling out. You glimpse rope, whetstone, and a dented flask.

You take in the thinness of the bedroll and how it might not even do anything for the hard ground, wondering how anyone could sleep like that.

Thoughts drift to your own bed that now may be reduced to ashes. It was high, draped in silk, the pillows stuffed with down. You used to sleep with the warmth of the hearth that burned low through the night.

It seems like a dream now, something too far removed from the reality that is your life now.

Barnes moves toward the tree, picking up the pack and tossing it down beside the bedroll.

He kneels, checking the contents quickly, before sitting back on his heels.

His eyes catch yours, and the twinkle of humor you had seen earlier is gone, replaced by his coldness, hardness.

You wrap your arms around yourself, partly to fend off the chill, partly to brace against the words that spill from your mouth before you can stop them.

This silence just got a little too unbearable.

“Is this where you slept?”

He looks at you, his expression flat. “What of it?”

The bluntness of his tongue stings, but you press on, emboldened by your desperation and the icy air that feels too silent.

“It does not look like much.”

His brow twitches. “S’ not meant to be.” Irritation roughens his words.

You hesitate. “Do you-”

“Let me make something clear,” he says, his voice low and dignified. He stands then, and even in the faint moonlight, his presence looms over you. He feels more imposing than the trees around you. You swallow hard. “I’m not here to answer your questions. I’m not here to keep you company or make you feel better about your little situation.”

Your cheeks burn, your arms around you tighten at the condescension in his tone. You say nothing, your breath caught in your throat. Your tongue is locked in your mouth.

His jaw is clenching and he exhales a sharp sound that is somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. It’s not a happy laugh though.

“I’m here because I have to be,” he continues. His eyes are fixed so intensely on you, you have to look away. “And you are here because you have nowhere else to go. That’s it. Don’t mistake this for anything else.”

He turns around stiffly and walks over to a patch of ground a few feet from his bedroll. He starts lazily removing sticks and stones to clear the space of dirt.

After he’s done, he moves away and gestures towards it with a careless hand, not even looking at you.

“You’ll sleep there.”

You are about to open your mouth, a protest on your tongue but his head snaps up, his eyes locking onto yours with a warning look.

“Go to sleep.” His voice is commanding. Unkind. He is done with tolerating you for today. “Now!”

You swallow the words that had risen, relieved they didn’t make it up all the way. Because there is no way you can win against this man and you don’t have the fight in you to argue at the moment.

Sinking to the ground he pointed at, you wrap your arms around yourself harder. The dirt is damp beneath you, cold seeping up through the ruined fabric of your gown. It is streaked with dirt, torn by brambles, and clings to you all wrong.

You shiver, your body curling in on itself, though that doesn’t make a difference.

You press your knees to your chest, burying your face in the crook of your arms.

But the chilly air still carves into your cheeks and whispers to your blood to slow.

You think of your mother then. Of the warmth in her smile and the way she used to stroke your hair as she tucked you into bed. You think of your father. He has always been a little harsh on you, a little distant. But you still relied on him in ways you always took for granted.

They are gone. And you are here. In the dirt. In the cold. In the woods. Alone but for a man who doesn’t care for you. He most certainly would leave you here without hesitation if it wasn’t for the oath he gave. To your mother.

You blink back tears, biting down hard on your lip to keep from crying. It is bad he already sees you like this. He can’t also see you cry.

The sound of Barnes’s blade scraping against the whetstone fills the silence.

You close your eyes and try to focus on the sound, trying to let it lull you into some semblance of sleep.

But it only makes your stomach queasy.

“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.”

- F. Scott Fitzgerald

Part two

[mikimakiboo]

Time Travelers AU - Unexpected visitors

Oooookay first drabble based on the silly au idea I had :D

I decided to make it into short parts so that I can (hopefully) post faster than if I made big parts, so that's why it's kinda short

This one is written from Dust's pov so I won't translate what anyone says so you can have an authantic experience just like Dust :) (unless you speak French, Old French, Old Norse and Latin of course)

Btw it was hell to find a descent translator for Old French so Cross won't be speaking much lmao (neither will Horror but he's just not much of a talker to begin with)

Next

@ancha-aus come here :3

One exhausting day added to the list, Dust internally sighed as he opened the door to his appartment with a creaking noise. He lived in an old building on the first floor, almost half of the stuffs were broken but at least he didn't have many neighboors and he had a little backyard so he could touch some grass on the week-end. He didn't have enough money to move out anyway so he wasn't going to complain. It was a small appartment, you entered with the kitchen on the right and two doors on the left, the first leading to the bathroom and the second to the bedroom, and in front of you was the living room with a couch, a table and a few chairs, the TV was on the wall in front of the couch. The door to the small square shaped backyard was on the opposite wall, in front of the entry door. It was small but more than enough for the skeleton living alone.

He put his bag on the kitchen counter, took off his shoes and fell flat on his couch. He had to eat, but he just wanted to rest a little before he gathered the energy to get up and go cook. He was just going to take a quick ten minutes nap.

He woke up with a light shining bright through his window, was it already morning ? Did he sleep on his couch again ? He looked up, rubbing his eyesockets as he grumbled, but the light didn't seem to come from the sun, it was to bright and too white, it looked like a neon light from a big spot, which he didn't have any near or in his backyard.

- What the fuck... ?

The light disappeared when he stood up, for a moment he contemplated going back to sleep, but he quickly changed his mind when he heard speaking, or more precisely screams, coming from his garden. Did someone break in ? He swiftly went to grab a knife in his kitchen and slowly opened his curtains to take a quick look outside, to see how many they were so he could call the cops.

- Wh-

He was speachless in front the scene happening before him. Did a cosplay parade broke into his backyard ? Why the hell were there a knight, a viking, some roman and a sort of prince in his garden ? And why were they all screaming at each other in languages that he couldn't understand ? Wait were those real weapons ?

He opened the door, and everyone looked at him, having stopped yelling. They all looked at each other for a while, no one making any move, at least Dust had time to analyze them. They were all skeletons, the roman was dressed in a dirty brown tunic with a leather bag around the waist and two knives in his hands, a black liquid was dripping from his empty sockets. The viking was tall and massive, dressed in thic furr clothes, pobably for the winter, he had an axe that was as tall as him, a hole in his skull and a big shining red eye, his whole look screamed intimidating. The knight was, well, dressed as a knight in an armor and holding a sword, he had a red scar underneath his right socket and mismatched eyelights, behind him was the last skeleton, a black one, dressed very elegantly in purple clothes, looking like a noble more than a prince as he wasn't wearing any crown. Their costumes looked really well made, they definitely had a good budget.

The roman was the first to talk.

- Ubi sum et qui estis ?

- What ? Speak English man.

Dust answered, not understanding a word of what that stranger just said. The roman repeated slower.

- Ubi sum et qui estis ?

- English, dude, English.

Dust asked again. Damn, these cosplayers really went all out didn't they ? The noble sighed, visibly even more irritated than Dust.

- Il essaie de vous demander où il se trouve et qui nous sommes, vous ne parlez donc pas le latin ?

Okay that sounded like French. Dust didn't speak French.

- Do none of you speak English ?

He asked, but received no response. The knight spoke, looking confused.

-Je ne comprens mie.

That sounded like French too, a weird version of French. Dust looked at the viking.

- You. You speak English ?

- ᛇᛋᛏᛖ ᚲᛖ ᚹᛟᚢ ᛞᛁᛏᛖ ?

- Damn okay that's worse.

It now seemed very apparent that none of them spoke English, which made the situation even weirder, and harder to manage too.

- Okay wait here for a second.

Dust instructed them before going back inside, grabbing his phone, and going back outside where no one had moved, various looks of confusion spreading on their face.

- You, French guy, come here.

He pointed to the noble who looked at him like he just insulted his mother, but still he approached him, the knight following him while keeping an eye on the others.

- Okay speak.

He said, holding out his phone opened on the Google Translate page. The noble looked at his phone, visibly confused.

- Qu'est-ce que cette.. chose.. que vous tenez ?

The translation appeared on the screen: "what is that thing you're holding ?" it said. Wait, he didn't know what a phone was ? The situation might be even more complicated than what Dust initially thought. He quickly typed his answer and clicked on the vocal command, asking the other who he was and where did they all come from.

- Mon nom est Nightmare, je suis un noble du grand Royaume de France et je vous prierais de ne point m'associer à ces.. personnages, dont je ne connaissais pas l'existence il y a de cela un instant.

He answered, looking at the others with disdain. The translation arrived. His name was Nightmare, he came from the Kingdom of France and was a noble, and he apparently didn't know who these people were. Dust typed another question, this time asking in which century they currently were, he had a thought, but wanted to be sure, because it sounded very absurd, but again, the situation in itself was absurd.

- Le dix-septième, évidemment, comment ne savez-vous point cela ?

The seventeenth. He thought he was in the seventeenth century, in the French kingdom, and didn't know what a phone was. Judging by how everyone looked and talked, they were probably also from different centuries. What happened for them to end up here ?

Dust sighed, for now, he could at least ask for their name.

- Okay so he is Nightmare, and I am Dust, you, who are you ?

Dust asked, pointing at Nightmare and then himself before pointing at the roman who looked at him with confusion.

- Him Nightmare, me Dust, you ?

The roman didn't talk. Nightmare sighed again, looking more and more annoyed with everything.

- Rogat quod nomen tibi est.

- Oh, nomen meum Killer est.

He finally answered, in a language that Dust's phone recognized to be Latin and which Nightmare seemed to be fluent in. Then Nightmare turned to the Knight.

- Vostre nom.

- Je me nome Cross, vostre altece.

Nightmare then turned to the viking, but didn't talk this time, he just stared, the viking however seemed to understand what they were all doing as he answered with his name.

- Horror.

Nightmare turned to Dust, looking at him with a very smug smile on his face, clearly showing his languages skills as he could apparently speak French, some variant of French, and Latin. He seemed to be the only one able to do that aside from Dust's phone.

- Oookay, so Nightmare the noble, Cross the knight, Killer the roman and Horror the viking, great.

Dust sighed, really hoping that all that was just a dream and he would wake up soon, but if it was really just a dream, his head wouldn't hurt like that.

- I'm going back inside, you.. uh.. can come in if you promise not to kill each other and not to turn my appartment into a mess, well, a bigger mess.

He said as he typed on Google and let the French translation be heard. Nightmare listened, looked up at Dust, looked at his appartment with an almost repelled expression on his face, and looked back at the skeleton like he was making fun of him.

- Vous voulez que j'entre dans cette étable ?

Nightmare asked, the translation asking Dust if he wanted him to enter this stable, referring to his apartment. Frenchie was a bitch, noted.

- It's all I have, unless you want to stay outside.

He told him. Nightmare sighed when he heard the translation but didn't reply, letting Dust translate in Latin and Old Norse that he invited everyone inside on the condition that they didn't make a mess or kill each others.

Killer was the first to go in, putting his knives back in his bag, visibly not worried that it might be a trap, he just went to explore this new place. Cross stayed by Nightmare's side, they might not have known each other but Cross was a knight and Nightmare was a noble, it made sense for him to stay close to him, it was his duty to protect him. Horror seemed suspicious, but seeing how Dust seemed genuine and not much of a threat he decided to enter too, much more carefully than Killer. Dust looked at them pass by him and turned to face the last two, waiting for them to enter as well. Cross went in first, inspected the inside before coming out again and talking to Nightmare who stayed outside.

- Il n'i a auncun dangeor, vous poez entrer.

Nightmare looked at him for a few seconds without moving before finally following the knight inside. Dust guessed he must have told him the place was safe.

With everyone inside Dust went back in and closed the door. They all looked at him, waiting for him to say something.

Well.

Dust didn't know what to say.

Why didn't he just stay asleep ?

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Can I have some Mer Roadtrip this week please?

- @aftgphoenix

WIP Wednesday (10/2) | Mer Roadtrip AU (Part 75)

Andrew doesn't speak again until Abram asks him to check the map. When he does, he gives simple answers and clipped directions. Finally, they end up driving against the sun. And Abram's too fucking short for the sun to be of any help. He grits his teeth and squints his eyes. Until finally Andrew holds out a familiar pair of sunglasses.

"Are those the ones from the mall?" Abram asks in disbelief.

"No, they were a present from Santa Claus. Didn't you see him fly past on his moose?" Andrew asks, sarcasm dripping from his every word. "Of course they're the ones from the mall. Here." Andrew moves around and pushes the shades onto Abram's face, tinging the horizon dark gray. Abram sighs in relief, then remembers how Andrew got them.

"Thanks. Don't steal anymore."

"Don't tell me what to do." Andrew says, flicking Abram's ear. Then he smugly pulls a second pair out of the pocket of his shorts and puts them on.

"Wh- What the fuck? Did you just steal two of everything you saw?" Abram sputters, waiting for Andrew to produce more pilfered goods.

"No. Just these and the knives. Be grateful. I wouldn't steal for just anyone," Andrew says with a smile. "Well, that's a lie actually. I think stealing is fun. So is lying. But you know that already, don't you, Mr. 'Mowed a lot of lawns'?"

[crimson0lake]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BROTHER!!

Happy (late) birthdays, Chuuya Nakahara!

Warnings: curses, mentions of knives, siblings being siblings, spoilers for upcoming chapters of bsd: One Time Sanity

.

.

.

"ughh" with a groan the ginger slowly sits up on the bed, feeling his head already start to ache from how much his, somehow, sibling shout.

He rubs his eyes, trying to shake off the sleepiness on him. His eyes look around the room he stays in, an old guest room which is now his own room in Haruto's flat.

"that bitch... Andres took my hat again.. for the seventh time..." He mumbles to himself before standing up and walking out of his room with an annoyed and irritated look. His clothes and sometimes wines were getting missing, clearly his reckless and annoying shit brother taking them, both having an one sided argument in the end everyday cause of it.

"ANDRES!! It's my first and last warning! Give my hat back or I'm gonna kick your ass!?" He rubbed his temples while shouting towards the big living room where a reply came without a second.

"Nuh uh"

"THE FUCK TOU MEAN 'NUH UH'?!?!?!"

"Nuh uh, fuck off"

A chuckle comes from the living room before Andres speaks up again

"FINE FINE.. I'll give it to you if you grow 2 inches in the next month!"

"I'M GONNA SHOVE THAT BROOM IN YOU ASS" Chuuya yelled angrily making his way towards the living room with flustered and angry face but his steps pause when the living room's lights suddenly go off and the flat falls silent.

"..." He was all confused and couldn't help but look around to see if anything was out of ordinary but finds nothing.

"Uhh... Guys? Are you alright?"

No answer comes from the living room only some sounds of footsteps.

'if it's another prank... I'm surely killing those two today...' Chuuya thinks as he slowly make his way to the living room before stepping inside the darkness.

After a couple of steps, where he suppose to be middle of the room, the lights suddenly turn on, causing his eyes to flash and slightly burn with sudden light before they open wide despite the burnt with the sound of synchronized voices.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!"

"wh-what..?" The ginger could only look at the three infront of him with confusion, he even forgot it was his birthday due to all those works and stuff happening in a short amount of time. Also, he don't remember telling them his birthday- How the fuck they knew about it?!

Luna approached him while holding the barely together cake with baking gloves. She smiles up at him while Andres and Haruto tes a sudden photo, using the rare opportunity of Chuuya's down guard.

"it's not much, but I only could do this much with the little ingredients we had... Sorry for that" Luna said after seeing Chuuya's still shocked and confused look towards the cake in her hands.

"No no.. it looks very good!.. I just wasn't expecting you guys to remember it.." The ginger only could utter the words out under his breath as he overcomes his shock slowly and runs his fingers back of his neck, trying to regain his composure.

His words had made the other two turn to him, making Haruto let out a amused chuckle before throwing one of his arms around Chuuya's shoulders.

"Of course we remember! What did you think?"

"we also remember how much you like those brand wines!" Luna continued with a smile before Andres added with a grin while wearing Chuuya's hat still

"and how much you care about your hats"

The twins go on and on of how much they knew Chuuya while haruto chuckled before clearing his throat and turning to Chuuya with a grin, meanwhile Chuuya was trying to wipe the tears that are forming in his eyes with a chuckle.

"the thing they are trying to say is that, you are a part of the family. We would know even the slightest details you don't even know about yourself. You are our brother; Even if you are a mafioso, even if you are strong. And even if you are short!"

The last sentence made Chuuya lightly punch Haruto's arm before the man laughs and turns away to go to the kitchen

"Now let's not waste more time and keep the cake waiting, or Andres and Luna would waste no second to clean the whole cake in just a few minutes.

[calling4glaives]

Day 1 Recap

We’ll continue to add works to this list as we find them, so don’t worry about being late. Please support all artists and writers – comment, like, reblog, and leave kudos!

Tumblr is being quirky today and not everything is showing up in tags, so if we missed something, please send us a message and let us know!

Title: Blades! Author: blossom adventures Link: Tumblr Prompt(s): Blades Relationships: Nyx & OC Summary/Excerpt:

“You lost Crownsguard?” A voice called, she turned around to see Nyx, who smiled when he realised who it really was, “oh, Lady Amicitia, if you’re hoping to see Drautos then you’ve just missed him”

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Title: sharpen all the knives you got Author: yuzukimist / MYuzuki Link: Tumblr, Ao3 Prompt(s): Rescue Summary/Excerpt:

"You know, I think all of our lives would be a lot easier if Lucian nobles would stop getting captured by the enemy," Nyx remarks as he drags on his combat gear.

"Yeah, no kidding," Crowe says, rolling her eyes. "But quite a few of them seem to have more money than brains, so here we are getting ready for yet another rescue mission."

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Title: A Prince and a Princeling Author: Niaswish / Shiary Link: Tumblr, Ao3 Prompt(s): Captivity Relationships: Noctis / Nyx Summary/Excerpt:

Prince Nyx Ulric has finished his mission, conquer Insomnia and demand Galahd’s rightful payment for Lucis’ betrayal. Finding himself faced with Lucis’ prince, Nyx finds himself rather intrigued when the kid bluntly asks him if he’s a stripper, while being in chains himself!

Not that Nyx would allow his own amusement to interfere with his duties.

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Title: Scars Unseen Author: WhoStarLocked Link: Tumblr, Ao3 Prompt(s): Danger, Captivity Relationships: Pelna / Nyx Trigger Warnings: Rape/NonCon, Underage Summary/Excerpt:

“Did you like your present, love?” Mama asked, her smile getting wider as she glanced at him.

Nyx nodded enthusiastically, feeling so happy he could burst at just the reminder. He was nine today, and Mama had given him one of Papa’s daggers - now his very first weapon - for the occasion.

It was the best birthday ever!

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Title: Sting of Betrayal Author: whumpwriterforlife Link: Ao3 Prompt(s): Captivity Relationships: Cor / Nyx Summary/Excerpt:

"Wha–" Nyx had no time to finish before his head was wrenched back harshly, the rest of his words turning into a pained gasp. Drautos loomed over him, a dagger in his free hand. His eyes were frighteningly blank.

"I had hoped it wouldn't come to this," Drautos told him, perfectly nonchalant as if he wasn't holding a dagger mere inches away from Nyx's bare neck. "You would've been a great asset to me, you were always a more skilled fighter than the rest of them – but you are way too stubborn, following that scourged King like a blasted puppy."

Something about the words broke through the drugged haze and the memories flooded back. Late night at the Glaive HQ, threats of gate duty unless mission reports were turned in, stepping into Drautos' office and seeing him–

"Glauca," Nyx breathed, his eyes wide at the realization, but it only took a second for anger to ignite inside him. He lunged forward with a snarl. "You traitor!"

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Title: A Rescued Chocochick Author: Firechocobros Link: Ao3 Prompt(s): Blades, Rescue Relationships: Cor / Nyx Summary/Excerpt:

Nyx hoped that his father would approve of what he used the family blades for. In which Cor and Nyx try to not get attached and Prompto is too cute for this world.

Featuring: Cor Leonis not getting attached and Nyx Ulric breaking the attachment land speed record.

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Title: Talk Some Sense to Me Author: Garbria / Loki_chan Link: Tumblr, Ao3 Prompt(s): Captivity, Rescue Relationships: Cor / Nyx Summary/Excerpt:

The door swung open, and Nyx froze. On the other side was a boy about his age with a scowl on his face and a sword in his hand. The bruise on his cheek made Nyx think he wasn’t part of whoever was in charge here.

“Who are you?” he snarled in Lucian.

Nyx grimaced. He really should have paid more attention to those Lucian lessons. His Lucian was passable, but he was better at listening than speaking.

“I’m Nyx. Who are you?” He spoke slowly, hoping the other boy could understand him.

The boy glared at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Fuck if I know!” Nyx moved his hands in exasperation, but stopped as he noticed the other boy move towards his sword. “Where even are we?”

The boy stared at him, gaze sliding over Nyx’s beads to stop at the new tattoo on his cheek. Nyx scowled at the look on the boy’s face. He was Galahdan and proud of it. He wouldn’t pretend otherwise. “Leonis. Cor Leonis.”

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Title: Mnemonics Author: MeissaShush Link: Tumblr, Ao3 Prompt(s): Blades Summary/Excerpt:

The snake yawned, stretching slowly along the large, flat rock. It didn’t seem to care that Nyx was there, crouching like a pathetic little daemon in the shade of the alcove. He fiddled idly with the ribbon wrapped about the hilt of his kukri, threading the loose strands of blue through his fingers as he watched the snake settle.

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

Title: Love and Blood and Choice Author: Awlwren Link: Tumblr, Ao3 Prompt(s): Rescue, Captivity Summary/Excerpt:

Clarus followed closely behind Libertus, hating himself for not being able to evacuate the boy sooner. He just had no backup on this mission, and had barely been able to find a safe place to shelter his niece, so he had no choice but to endanger the boy further. The fact that the boy insisted he wanted to help was cold comfort, at this point. All he could do was stay as close as possible. He was trained for protection, after all.

Though he certainly didn't feel like he was very good at it at the moment.

Uncle Clarus AU! The Clarus POV of Whumpwriterforlife's "The Bonds that Bind Us"

[asmutwriter]

Payment (Dean x F!Reader)

DESCRIPTION: After you get saved from a demon by Dean. You decide to repay him

A/N - In celebration of Deans birthday yesterday (I know I’m late but pretend I’m organised) 

WORD COUNT: 2921

One Shots / ‘You Saved Me’

WARNINGS: spiking, kidnapping, swearing, violecne, knives, guns, cleaning wounds, smut, dom Dean, sub reader, protected sex

DISCLAIMERS

- This was part of my ‘You Saved Me’ series however I wasn’t keen on how it fit with the characters so I have made it part of an ‘alternative reality’ version of the main characters from that story

- This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

TWO YEARS LATER

You’d just dropped Anna off at her pre-school. You’d been allowed full custody of her now, with a few requirements. Meeting the social worker once every two weeks. Seeing a therapist every week. All minor requirements so that you can look after your daughter. Another parent comes up to you as you open your car. She smiles at you as you get to your car. “Hey there. You’re new around here right?”

“Yeah. I mean no. We moved in a few years ago but this is the first week that Anna is starting pre-school” she nods

“It’s a bit scary when they first start right?” you nod and chuckle slightly “Mine have been here for a few years now. I’ve got three. It always seems that one leaves and another one joins” you nod and smile at her “do you want to come back to mine? It’s nice to have some friends that have kids about the same age” you look at her. Gently nodding “Cool. I’m about a five minute walk away so we can head there now” you nod. Locking your car back up before following her to her house.

Heading into her home. She places her house keys down in a small bowl on her windowsill. “Coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee please” she heads into the kitchen as you follow her “You have a beautiful home”

“Thanks. My husband got it for me. Sorry, ex-husband” putting on the kettle “He bought it for me when we got a divorce. He said he wanted a nice home for the kids he just didn’t want to live with me anymore. And he’s filthy rich so I wasn’t going to turn down this place” you chuckle and nod “How about you? You got a husband or anything?”

“No. I’ve had on and off relationships with people. But none of them wanted to be a parent so they all left me. So it’s just me and Anna. It’s a shame though because I’ve always wanted another kid. Kind of hard to do when it’s just me”

“You could just lure a man into your bed for a night, get knocked up then boom you have a new baby” you nod and chuckle as she pours you both a drink. Handing you the mug

“I wouldn’t like to do that and not tell them. Seems unfair” she nods and sits at the dining room table. You follow her. Sitting next to her at the head of the table. You both engage in small talk as you both drink your drinks. “Where is your bathroom?” you ask after you finish your coffee. She points

“Second door” you nod and stand up. Then feeling the world start to turn black. You sit back down again, thinking you stood up to quickly. But nothing works. You look at her as she smiles, almost menacingly. 

“Wh-what did you d-do...?” you speech becoming slurred

“Just added a little something to your drink”

“You son of a bitch” she smiles. Watching as her eyes turn black as you pass out

You come to. A horrific headache. You go to move your hands but can’t against the restraints around them. Them above your head tied to some sort of beam. Feeling something in your mouth. A tie by the feel of it. Your eyes struggle to focus. You think you’re in a kitchen. Not the kitchen you were in when you passed out in though. This was a more old fashioned kitchen. With wooden beams adorning the room. That’s what you must be attached to. You hear a noise. A door opening. Then footsteps. The woman from the school appears. She smiles at you “I’m so sorry about this” she pulls down the gag “I’m not normally like that”

“A psycho?” she slaps you, causing you to laugh slightly. 

“I am not a psycho. I’m doing this for a greater power”

“What greater power would this be then, hmm?”

“None of your business” she pulls out a knife “This may pinch a bit” 

“You don’t have to do this”

“Yes I do” she pulls the gag back up into your mouth. She cuts open your shirt. Gently pushing the knife into your skin as she carves some sort of symbol into it. You shut your eyes, breathing through the pain of the metal. You feel her stop. Opening your eyes again you see her gently cutting her own hand. Dipping her fingers into the blood she draws on your forehead. Chanting words. You try and move away. A wall behind you making it difficult to. You see the knife begin to glow as she finishes talking. She smiles, picking the blade up. “Just know that your death will bring so much life to our children of the future” you shake your head, trying to pull the restraints. Then a knock at the door. She looks at you, then at the front door. She walks out the kitchen, shutting the door behind her. You hear talking. What sounds like a males voice talking to her. You look around. Trying to figure a way out of this. You hear a scream then a gun shot. You freeze. Looking at the door. Dreading what might be on the other side. It opens slowly. You try and move. Away from the restraints and the person walking into the room. 

A man walks in. Dean. You could cry tears of joy just from the sight. He points his gun around the room. Seeing you. He checks there’s no assailants before putting his gun in the back of his jeans. Walking over to you he pulls down your gag “Are you ok?”

“I’ve had better days” he pulls out a knife. Cutting the rope “Turns out being tied up and sliced open hurts” he chuckle slightly, helping you with the rope around your wrist. He takes his leather jacket off, placing it around your body as a way to help cover yourself up. You wrap it around yourself, wiping the blood from your forehead and wincing slightly at the pain in your chest. He helps hold you up as you start to sway slightly on your feet.

“What’s the time?”

“About midday” you nod. Rubbing your eyes before brushing his hands off of you and walking past him. Opening the front door and going outside. Yep, your fear happened. No idea where you were. This was not the house she originally brought you too. 

“I need a phone” you hold your hand out. Dean hands you his phone. You dial in a number. Jenny picking up

“Hello who is this?”

“Jenny! Hey it’s Rose”

“Rose? What are you doing?”

“I umm...” you look at the house you just came from “I ran into a bit of trouble. I got mugged. I’m ok. I’m just a bit shaken up and not really feeling in the right mind set to leave the house yet. Is there any chance you could pick up her up, please?”

“Oh my goodness Rose! Are you sure you’re ok?”

“I’m fine. Just a bit shaken up really. I’ll be ok I just don’t want her to see me in this state”

“Oh Rose I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want me to come round?”

“No. I’m ok thanks. I just need to be on my own for a bit. Going to have a bath and relax myself. But if you could pick her up from school that would be an absolute life saver”

“I’ll pick her up for you. Just ring me when you are back at home and I’ll come and drop her off for you”

“Thank you. I owe you one” you hang up. Passing the phone back to Dean. “I know you just saved my life and everything but any chance you could also give me a lift back home?”

“Sure” he smiles at you “Get in”. You get into the seat beside him as he starts driving

“She was a witch right? Or demon? Her eyes where black so I’m assuming a demon”

“I think a witch who was possessed by a demon. Using the demon to enhance her powers but feeding its appetite for blood with human sacrifices”

“Great” you look out the window “How did you find me?”

“I saw that a few woman had been going missing around the area. Bodies found with strange carvings in their chests. Figured it was something that was more supernaturally inclined. Found out who the witch was and where she lived and now here I am” you nod. Driving the rest of the way in silence, music playing softly in the background. You come up to your house. Pulling up out the front

“Thanks. Seriously. You saved me back there”

“It’s what I do” you gently pat his shoulder “Let me come up with you and tend to your wounds”

“Oh no I couldn-”

“I insist” he turns off the engine. Getting out the car and waiting for you to go up and open the front door. “Go wait in the kitchen” you nod. Going into the kitchen you grab out a beer. Opening the top you down the whole thing. Hoping it’ll help numb the pain of the wound of your chest. He comes back in. Bandages and sanitising stuff in hand. You steady yourself on the counter. Feeling him come up behind you and gently turn you around. You have your eyes shut. Trying to blank out the pain. The adrenaline leaving your body, leaving you with only sheer agony in your chest. He gently lifts you up onto the counter. Feeling him push apart his jacket and your shirt. “This is going to hurt” you nod. Opening your eyes slightly as you watch him clean up the wounds. Gripping onto the edge of the counter as he tends to your injuries. 

“Drink. Please” you motion at the fridge. He reaches across. Grabbing out a beer for you. You take it, opening the top and drinking it. He finishes cleaning you up. 

“I need to remove your shirt and stuff” you nod. Taking off his jacket and shirt. You pull the straps of your bra down from your shoulders. Leaving your bra still on but removing your arms from the straps. You lift your arms up as he places a medical pad onto the chest. Wrapping the bandage around you tightly. You shut your eyes from the pain. Feeling him trying to be so gentle with you. “Done” you hear him say. You put your arms down and open your eyes. Him tucking in the end of the bandage into the rest of it. Standing between your legs. You let out a sigh. Leaning forward and resting your head against his shoulder. You feel his arms go around you. Gently stroking the small of your back. You move away. His arms still around you as you look at him. Leaning forward you kiss him. A soft kiss against his lips. You feel his hands go to your hips. You take a hold of the waist band of his jeans. Pulling him forward. He pulls away slightly, avoiding eye contact with you “We shouldn’t”

“Why not? Shift you don’t have a girlfriend do you?” you cover your mouth slightly, embarrassed about what he might say next. He lets out a soft chuckle

“No. It’s not that. You’re hurt and I don’t know if this is the best thing for an injury”

“I’m fine” you put a hand up to his cheek, his eyes meeting yours “please? I just want to forget” his eyes move to your lips before he leans forward again. This kiss being more heated. You feel his hands go and stroke the sides of your thighs. He moves away. Removing his top half. He moves back towards you, smiling as you rake your fingers over his chest and stomach. He kisses you again as you undo his belt. You feel his hand go to the back of your head, pulling you into him as you undo his jeans. His other hand removing himself from them, hearing them drop to the floor. You undo the button of your jeans. His hands going to the top of them and pulling them down with your underwear. His thumb going and finding your clit easily. Pushing onto it, causing you to moan into his mouth. He smiles into the kiss. “N-need to feel you... Now... Pl-please Dean” he raises an eyebrow slightly

“You sure?” you nod. Pushing your hands through his hair as he pulls you forward. You hear him undo a condom packet as you play with the hair on the back of his neck. He spits into his hand, feeling him rub his saliva onto your cunt before he grab your hips, pulling you forward on the counter. Causing you to let out a small giggle as you kiss him. One hand staying on the back of his head. The other moving to his cheek, feeling his slight stubble hitting the palm of your hand. Then you feel him push into you. You whine into his mouth. The sudden stretch causing you to wiggle your hips in discomfort. He pushes your legs apart, allowing him to go deep inside of you. You whine, scrunching your eyes as you kiss him. Feeling him start to move in and out of you. The discomfort soon turning into pleasure. Your whines turning into soft moans. You tilt your head back. Moaning out as he picks up the pace. Moving both your hands to his shoulders. Gripping them for dear life as he fucks into you. Then he hits it. That sweet spot inside of you. Casing your toes to curl. 

“Holy shit!” you shut your eyes “please don’t stop. Please” you open your eyes again, his green orbs meeting yours. Blown out with lust as he continues his movements. You feel one of his hands move from your thigh to your pussy. Rubbing circles onto your clit. You thrust your hips in movement with his fingers. Feeling your orgasm start to build. You move your hand to his bicep. The other going to the back of his head. Gripping his hair as your nails dig into the flesh of his arm. Shutting your eyes. Feeling him kiss your neck as you put your head back. Soft grunts leaving his lips, tickling your throat. You pull him by his hair, planting your lips back onto his. Grinding your hips in a steady rhythm with his as you get closer and closer “Dean... G-gonna cum... Please?” he smiles, eyes meeting yours as he fucks into you harder and faster. Holding onto your hips as he fucks mercilessly into you

“You going to cum?” you nod, getting closer “you look so pretty. Fucked out from my cock” you whine at his words. Them adding to the pool between your legs. “Cum beautiful” he kisses you, pulling away as he watches your orgasm hit you. Nails digging into him. So hard you’re worried you might cut through the skin. You shut your eyes tightly, stars filling your vision as it hits you. Your legs shaking in his hands as he continues fucking into you, chasing his own high. You whine, hands holding both his biceps as he continues to work in you. Gently kissing your neck as you let out small moans and whines into his ear. “Fuck” he grunts out. Pushing into you. Moaning out as he chums. You feel him rest his hands on the counter top either side of you. His head resting gently on your shoulder. You able to put your legs around him. Hurting slightly from being pushed apart for so long. You kiss his shoulder as he rests against you. Keeping his weight up with his hands and you gently stroke his hair. Shutting your eyes you both bathe in the sex filled air. You both could’ve easily sat there all day you reckon. Sitting in the comfortable silence with each other. But then you hear his phone go off. You both sit still as it rings.

“Do you need to get that?” you whisper. He moves, grabbing his phone from his jacket. You wrap your arms round his neck, once again playing with his hair as he checks the caller. Flipping it open and putting it up to his ear. 

“Hello... yep... about six hours away... ok... yes sir” he hangs up. Putting the phone down on the side. “I have to go. It’s a work thing” you nod, removing your arms from around his neck. He pulls out of you, holding his hand out as he helps you off the counter. You both sort yourselves out. Making yourselves decent. 

“I’ll see you around?” you ask as you walk to the door. He nods

“Defiantly” he leans forward, taking your face between his hands and kissing you again.

“You don’t have to leave you know? You could stay here with me and Anna” he looks around your hallway. Half smiling to himself. 

“I know. But we both know I can’t” he drops his hands

“Well. Good luck on saving the world” you smile at him “I hope to see you again. Hopefully in less bloody circumstances” he chuckles slightly and nods. You watch as he gets to his car. Driving away you sigh. Going to your home phone and dialling in a number “Hey Jenny. I’ve just arrived at home. Could you drop Anna off please?”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Malleus, Riddle: Party of One No Longer

To me, the most interesting part of Malleus’s birthday interview was when he marveled over the miracle that is online shopping 😂

Imagine this...

Surviving alone on a deserted island was no challenge for him. In his eyes, every dorm was a kingdom waiting to be conquered. A young mage of frightening skill and strength, feared by all.

He was Malleus Draconia.

Riddle warily peered at his upperclassman from the top of his clipboard. Malleus had technically provided answers to each and every question, but... “... Were those truly adequate responses for the interview?”

The fairy, who loomed over Riddle’s tiny frame, frowned. “I believe I did as I was asked. Do you wish to redo it?”

“No,” Riddle said quickly. The last thing he wanted was to upset Malleus--he hadn’t come for a battle, but to fulfill a duty. “No, I suppose not. Please, do carry on as you were.”

Malleus held his gaze for perhaps a second or two too long. The corner of his mouth tugged up into a smirk. “You have no need to be quite so uptight, Rosehearts. This is a party, a celebration. Be at ease. I insist that you eat, drink, and be merry--”

He lifted a hand, and at once, a vacant chair from a nearby table rocketed to him. It slammed into Riddle’s back at an angle, causing him to lose his footing, drop his clipboard, and fall into the seat. With its new captive in tow, the chair magically maneuvered itself to a sweets-laden display.

Riddle blinked.

“--for you are my guest,” Malleus finished, reappearing at his side.

“This...” Riddle hesitated, choosing his every word with the utmost caution. “This is very generous of you. Such a sumptuous spread is like something out of a child’s fantasy.”

“Oh? Was I incorrect to assume that you would enjoy such a thing?”

“Wh-What...!!” Riddle’s face flared red. “Are you calling me a child?!”

“Fufu. I meant nothing of it.” Malleus leaned against his chair, the emeralds of his eyes half-lidded. “There is a bit of childishness in all of us. A piece of innocence we wish to cling to, no matter how dark and depraved the world may be to us.

“We hold responsibilities that we must tend to. People who look to us for guidance. The image of a strong, capable leader to maintain. Those few precious moments when we are allowed to set our inner child free... Is it so wrong to relish in them?”

“Malleus-senpai...”

He’s addressing me, but it sounds as though he is just as much speaking to himself.

Something in Riddle’s chest twinged when his eyes met his upperclassman’s. There was a darkness that had emerged from the green of his irises, something familiar and raw and melancholy. The same look that Riddle had worn all throughout his own childhood, on the inside looking out.

Loneliness.

“I think I understand how you feel,” Riddle said at last. “Time can steal away from us before we even realize it... but there is no rule prohibiting us from enjoying ourselves while we still can.”

“You catch on quickly.” The fairy prince chuckled, flicking his wrist.

Silverware danced, spoons and forks and knives gliding through the air. Blades sunk into cakes, tarts, and pies, cutting up slices and sliding them onto clean plates. The single servings of dessert closed in on Riddle, presenting themselves in a ring like potential suitors at a grand ball, each vying for his attention.

“Take your pick,” Malleus crooned, waving a hand over the options.

Riddle stared at him quizzically. “You are the birthday boy. It would be rather impudent of me to indulge myself at this celebration without your grace.”

“I have come to terms with the fact that I am not welcome at festivities,” Malleus replied bluntly. “I have said as much for my interview, yes? I am used to being by my lonesome. You have no need to take pity on me. Or does tradition obligate you to do so?”

“... I do not claim to know what goes through your head, but know this: it is not out of obligation or pity that I extend this offer to you.” Riddle stubbornly shook his head. “You are an individual worthy of great admiration. An excellent student, mage, and leader... I could ask for no better dining companion.

“Malleus-senpai.” Riddle paused to clear his throat. “Would you do me the honor of having a slice of cake with me? Not as a dorm leader, not as classmates, but as equals. As the children that we are, liberated from our everyday duties and demands.”

“Rosehearts...” The surprise on his face soon gave way to his usual composed attitude. “I would be delighted.”

“Just a moment.” Riddle stood from his seat, holding up a hand to stop Malleus from claiming the chair beside him. “There still remains the matter of the gift of good fortune.”

“Ah, of course. I’ve been looking forward to it all year.”

“Erm, yes.” The redhead quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve been eagerly anticipating this?”

“Indeed. It is not often when I am able to experience events such as this. Sebek would sooner offer to take a pie in my place than allow for my clothes to be sullied.”

“That... certainly sounds like Sebek.” Riddle sighed as he peeled off his gloves, carefully tucking them into a blazer pocket. “Right, then. We’d best get to it, lest he come charging over to block the hit.”

“Please, allow me.” Another wave of Malleus’s hand, and a whipped cream pie floated over and placed itself in his interviewer’s grasp.

“Thank you.” Once again, Riddle cleared his throat. “Malleus-senpai, I wish you a very happy birthday!!”

PLAPP!

Riddle didn’t throw the pie with much vigor--it landed squarely on the birthday boy’s right pectoral, the impact spraying globs of whipped cream over his neck, his face, and his hair. Malleus appeared dazed. Eyes wide as he slowly processed what had just occurred.

And, for one terrible, awful, horrifying moment, Riddle feared that his life would be cut short in a flash of blinding draconic rage.

But then he saw the smile.

A smile that reminded him of the fresh red roses in the Heartslabyul gardens. Set upon lips as full and ripe as the plush petals of a flower, lovely like droplets of dew at daybreak, muting the thorns and harsh angles of his face. Wholehearted and toothy, a smile spun from dreams and tender bedtime stories.

This was Malleus Draconia.

[house-of-slayterr]

Watchmen Incorrect Quotes:

@rorschach-thumbtack

Fang , at an awards show: Well, first of all, I’d like to thank Rorschach, the love of my life, for telling me Thumbtack was going to win so don’t bother to prepare a speech.

Rorschach: What’s it like being tall?

Rorschach: Is it nice?

Rorschach: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards?

Thumbtack : We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb 4 chairs, 2 boxes, a small coffee table and 6 oddly placed stools to get what they want.

Fang : It was one time!

Rorschach: I have locked Thumbtack in a cage designed by their own art. Oh, they have been well and truly hoist by their own petard.

Fang : Could you put it another way? I didn’t understand a word of that.

Rorschach: I’m blackmailing them.

Fang : Oh, happy days.

Dan : Hey, no, you stay out of this, this is between me and Silk !

Thumbtack : So Silk knows about this?

Dan , walking away: No, this is between me and me!

Dan : The best part of an oreo is the cookie part, not the frosting. Deal with it.

Fang : Darkness without light is an abyss. Light without darkness is blinding. You cannot have a coin with one side.

Rorschach: YO SOCRATES! IT'S A FUCKING COOKIE!

Fang : Silk, get that hidious thing out of the living room, would you?

Silk: Dan , Fang wants you to get out of the house.

Fang : What are you getting Thumbtack for the holidays?

Dan : I don't know. It's kind of hard buying a gift for your partner when they already got everything they could've ever wanted when they married you. So I'm not sure yet.

Ozymandias : I'm getting Thumbtack a divorce lawyer.

Fang : You know guys, sometimes I feel like Ozymandias doesn't take me seriously enough.

Thumbtack : "Sometimes"?

Dan : "Enough"?

Fang :

Dan : Change that to 'at all' and we'll talk.

Fang : For self defense reasons, I'm going to pretend to be a burglar and you guys have to act wisely.

Rorschach , Thumbtack , & Ozymandias : Okay.

Fang : If you don't want to die, give me all your money.

Rorschach : Bold of you to assume I have money.

Thumbtack : Bold of you to assume I don't want to die.

Ozymandias : Bold of you to assume I can die.

Silk : What’s wrong? You look 10 seconds away from ripping someone’s throat out.

Ozymandias : Fucking Fang and Thumbtack were trying to invoke one of the minor gods again last night. I didn't get an ounce of sleep, thanks to their bloody chanting.

*Casually in the Middle of a High Stakes/Dangerous Situation*

Fang : How do you eat pickles?

Thumbtack : What do you mean?

Fang : I mean, there's a whole process. It's not like you can grab them from the jar with your hand, because it's cold and the juice burns if you have a cut, plus, it's pretty unsanitary. And you can't use a spoon because you'll have to scoop it out, and it'll be way too difficult to grab more than three or four without taking 10 minutes along with half the brine in the jar, even if it's one with holes.

Thumbtack : Yeah, that's why you use a fork.

Fang : Okay, sure, but what if you don't have one of the big ones clean? It's weird to use a small one. But there is always one of those smaller sharp knives clean.

Thumbtack : But the straight edge doesn't really fit the cylindrical shape, and you have to make sure you don' t break it, it's too much work.

Fang : It makes me feel like I deserve the pickles though. Like, "Yeah, I did it. That's right. Good job me." It's empowering. But even after that, it's not like you can use a bowl.

Thumbtack : I get that, it's not ascetically pleasing.

Fang : Exactly! And it looks weird if you don't entirely fill the bowl, but you also can't eat that many. My solution: Use a mug.

Thumbtack : *Nods in agreement*

Ozymandias : That is all very interesting, BUT WE'RE TRYING NOT TO DIE RIGHT NOW! USE YOUR LIMITED ATTENTION SPANS AND FOCUS!

Fang : Jeez, okay.

Thumbtack : Quit yelling at us already.

Thumbtack : Are you reading fan fiction?

Fang , reading an article about extremely rare diseases: Wh- No.

Thumbtack : Oh, is it on AO3?

Fang : This is CNN.

Fang : Thumbtack , I beg of you. Please, PLEASE go to the doctor.

Thumbtack : Hey, I'm sorry. Is this OUR stab wound?

Dan : *seductively takes off glasses*

Dan : Wow...

Silk : *blushes* Haha... what?

Dan : You're really fucking blurry.

Rorschach : Dan and I are so close we even share a toothbrush.

Dan : We what?

Fang : Pfft, you should meet Comedian , they're such a tsundere.

Thumbtack : They... they just stabbed you.

Fang : So cute.

Thumbtack : Isn't it weird that people kill mosquitoes just because they're annoying?

Fang : Damn, if people did that to each other, Comedian would've killed me years ago.

Ozymandius : We’re kind of missing something guys.

Comedian : Cohesion?

Rorschach : Teamwork?

Dan : A general sense of what we’re doing?

Thumbtack : And Fang is not here.

Comedian : Oh, and that, yeah.

Comedian : If you put 'violently' in front of anything to describe your action, it becomes funnier.

Comedian : Violently practices.

Fang : Violently studies.

Thumbtack : Violently sleeps.

Dan : Violently shoots pictures.

Ozymandius : Violently boxes.

Rorschach : Violently murders people.

Thumbtack : Violently worries about the previous statement.

An: all of these are accurate, change my mind!

[lilyofthestyx]

I saw request we’re open for RE8. Could I please have a fem! reader who tries to get rid of Ethan Winters because he keeps causing distress to her wife, Alcina? Please and thank you.

yes. yes you most certainly can have this.

i have been DYING to write about some alcina x fem!reader for the sole reason being that i have NEVER questioned my sexuality so hard since this damn game came out so yeah.

ps: wrote this in first person hope that's okay!

pps: there is some major plot deviation because.... i felt like it. idk. it fit??

DISCLAIMER: I do not claim to own Resident Evil or its characters or plot. CAPCOM please don't come for me.

here you go love >:)

word count: 1.57k

"Girls!" I call, closing the door behind me. "My darlings, I'm home!" Shifting the grip on the parcel of items from the village, I look around.

Usually one of the girls would've answered by now. Bela is usually here to greet me.

She's probably with her mother.

I shrug off my fur coat, handing it to one of the maids. She takes it and lays it over the back of a chair. I can tell by the large, gnarled scar on her forearm who she is "Marienna," I mumble, staring up the stairway. "...where're the girls?"

Marienna's face pales as she stares back at me. Her mouth opens and closes like a trout. "Well?" I snap, "D'you know where they are or-?!"

A crash resounds down the hallway. Alcina's voice tears from her bedroom, followed by a shuddering sob.

I'm hurrying up the stairs in seconds, abandoning the parcel. My body collides with the door- forcing it open.

Our bedroom is destroyed- the vanity broken to pieces. Alcina's soft hands cling to the golden wood, thumb rubbing against the varnish. Slowly, her eyes trail up to me. A smile nearly as broken as the vanity crosses her painted lips. "...I loved this damned mirror," she mumbles, eyes turning down to the broken pieces again.

"What happened, darling?" I coo, stepping over the pieces to stand beside her. My hand on her shoulder, I turn her face gently towards mine. Tears are streaming down her face- leaving jagged streaks of mascara. "Are you alright? What happen-"

Alcina's body tenses under my touch. Trembling, her grip tightens on the wood. It cracks before being wrenching in twain in her hands. "It was that stupid manthing!" She hisses, standing back up to her full height.

"...what 'manthing'?" I ask, "Your brother?"

Alcina ignores me, leaning back down to pluck one of the larger fragments before throwing it across the room. "He laid his filthy paws on our daughters!"

My mind races as it struggles to understand what the hell is happening.

Manthing.

It's not Heisenberg. He'd never lay a finger on the girls.

Some brutish village slug- that's got to be it.

But why? Why on earth would they...?

It doesn't matter.

As Alcina leans down to grab another bit, I grab her hand. "...are... are the girls okay? Where are they?"

A shuddering sigh passes her lips. "...they're all together," she whispers, wiping tears from her face hastily. "Bela... she was... that disgusting beast, he nearly killed her!"

"What?" I mutter, eyebrows drawing together as I step back. "...what... well is she okay? What happened? Is she going to be alright?!"

Alcina sighs again. "...she'll be alright," her hand wraps around mine gently. "Her sisters found her. Brought her to me."

"Where is she now?," I ask, tightening my grip around her finger. "My baby girl... where...?"

Alcina smiles warmly, getting down onto one knee. Her fingers brush back the hair from my eyes. Tears fall quickly down my face as I realize what could've happened if Cassandra and Daniela weren't nearby. "She's with her sisters," she answers gently. "Resting... waiting for her mother to get back with the flowers and silk from the village."

A cold laugh passes my lips before I sniffle. "...her mother should've been there. Should've never left."

Alcina's face tightens. "You can't blame yourself, darling," she mumbles, turning my chin up so I can face her. "No one knew this... Ethan Winters... would be so hideously vindictive."

I nod slowly, wiping the tears from my face. "...can I see her?"

"Of course, my love," she says, leaning in to press her lips to my cheek. "Of course."

The two of us walk down the halls to the center of the house. 'Safest place for her' Alcina had told me.

She had spoken to me the entire way over here, trying to get me out of my own head.

Bless my beloved wife for trying.

But that name. It just keeps buzzing around my mind.

Images of my hands, covered in thick blood, gripping the handle of a sickle play through my head. The blade going through the jugular of this 'Ethan Winters' and popping out the other side. Him desperate for air, choking on his own hot blood, as he watches me loom over him.

His last words will be for mercy.

His last view will be my blade.

My breath is bated as I watch him stalk through the darkness of the courtyard. In the moonlight, I can see is head is down, eyes wary as he keeps a fair grip on his pistol. The cool air lets me see him regulating his breathing- keeping him steady, keeping his pistol steady.

He's experienced.

My grip on my own weapon tightens as he stops in the gazebo. His eyes narrow as he turns around, his pistol raised. I watch in mild amusement as he whirls around, looking for something to shoot.

He's experienced, yes, but still not experienced enough.

I tug the fabric around my face higher along the bridge of my nose. Gripping my sickle, I balance on the balls of my feet.

Ethan finally relaxes, dropping his arms with his back to me.

A small smile creeps along my lips under the mask. A foolish move made by an even more foolish man.

My body slides underneath the stone railings for the stairs leading into the center of the courtyard. Untucking one of the smaller knives from my belt, I pinch it between two fingers and flick my wrist forward.

The knife goes flying- landing right between Ethan's shoulder blades. A guttural yell comes from him as he spins around to face me. In a blink, I'm up in front of him, nose brushing against his.

I can see the fear in his eyes.

I can't help my smile growing beneath the dark fabric.

Ethan raises his hand, pistol in his palm. With a tut of my lips, I shake my head and stab his hand through with my sickle. "...no, no," I mumble as he continues to scream and thrash against my hold. "There'll be none of that, I'm afraid, Mister Winters."

His teeth gritted, he hisses as my sickle is pulled from the inner part of his wrist. A bitter laugh bubbles up from my gut as he stumbles back onto the floor of the gazebo, now holding the pistol in his shaky left hand. "You can't be serious!" I giggle as Ethan pulls the trigger.

A wet squelch hits my ears as the bullet tears into my stomach. I sigh dramatically, looking down at the gushing hole in my dress. "You didn't think I was human- did you?" I ask, twirling the sickle in my hand.

"Wh- what?" Ethan mutters, eyes fixated on the bullet wound in my torso.

"I'm not," I continue, stepping closer to him as he tries to back away. Another gunshot echoes through the courtyard- the bullet landing in my left shoulder. "Not entirely, anyways."

"What the hell are you?!" Ethan yells, firing three more shots. One in the crook of my neck, one just barely grazing my temple, one lodging itself in my hip.

My jaw tightens as I hurry forward, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him back into the center of the gazebo. "I!" I snap, grabbing him again and gripping his wrist. "I... am the mother of the girl you almost killed!"

I pull another knife out of my belt. Trailing it down his lips, I smile. "And the wife... to a woman scorned." With a single swing, the knife digs into the flesh of his palm and nails it to the gazebo.

Ethan yells in pain. As I step back, his other fist cracks across my face. I stumble back. Grabbing at my cheek, I chuckle darkly. "Oh, Ethan," I coo coyly, grabbing my sickle. "You really shouldn't have done that."

I swing and watch with what could only be described as 'glee' as the blade pierces his throat. Covered in blood, the blade glistens crimson in the pale moonlight. Ethan's choked pleas are drowned out by my laughter.

"Why?" is the only word able to leave his lips without being smothered in a gush of blood.

"Because, Mister Winters," I hum, my nose brushing against his as I watch the life in his eyes flicker. "You should never have touched my family."

BONUS ENDING:

"What is that delicious smell?"

I turn around to see Alcina bending down to peek outside. A smile crosses my lips as I gesture to the mutilated corpse with the end of my sickle. "Dinner, my love," I hum, wiping off the blade with the fabric I had used for a mask. "Sorry it's not the cleanest."

Alcina scoffs and waves me off. "It's fine, _________. I'll just go let the girls know their mother brought dinner...," she pauses, eyes flicking over the gushing body. "...who was that? He smells... familiar."

"Just Ethan Winters," I answer nonchalantly.

"...y-you..." Alcina stammers, eyebrows weaving together and lips pursing. "You... when did you-?"

"He must've been tired," I continue with a small smile. "He was not nearly as difficult a kill as I thought he'd be."

"...I'll... I'll be going now."

"Okay, love," I chirp, "I'll drag him in in a second. Love you!"

Alcina's eyes are still wide, mouth slightly agape as she steps away from the doorway. "...love you too... darling."

can you tell i had a lot of fun with this?

yeah. because i did.

i hope you enjoyed! writing lady d is so much freaking fun i kid you not.

big vampy lady make brain go brr

[roxyfoxgamer150]

Hey everyone I'm so sorry that this took some time to get out. I had a killer headache yesterday and looking at a screen made it a lot worst. Thanks for your patience!

Ok Akuma, since you have chosen the blue pill here is part 2. Enjoy!

Part 2: A Glimpse Into Your World

"Knives. Check."

"Bullets. Check."

"Pistols. Check."

"Hair. Done"

"Suit. In order and presentable." 

Hollow got ready in record time. It wasn't hard; she does strive for efficiency and practicality in her everyday life. Overall, Hollow was grateful for the similarities between Scrappy's universe and hers. It certainly helps that Casita's layout and Scrappy!Julieta's choices in hair products and soaps are essentially the same, and it really worked in her favor. Hollow thinks it's one of the fastest and most efficient times she's ever taken a shower and gotten ready. 

With everything on her person in order, Hollow exits the nursery to find her young companion. Hollow immediately goes to the right and checks what would have been her side of the family first. Going to the end of the hall is where she assumes Scrappy's room would be since the youngest of each family's room will always be closer to their mother's. Hollow couldn't help but take a couple of seconds to look at the door upon reaching it. Besides Scrappy's name on the glowing door, the door featured Scrappy standing tall and proud while showcasing her bandaged arms and fist by making an X over her chest. What really catches Hollow's attention is the big smile on Scrappy's face, with her silhouette surrounded by symbols that represent the family and butterflies.  

"Pretty cool, isn't it?" 

Hollow turns around to see Isabela finish climbing up the stairs before walking towards her. 

Hollow nods, "It is certainly something."

"I'm sure you know that our doors represent who we are as a person compared to before the whole change when they represent our gifts." Isabela states. 

"Hmmm, what caused the change," asked Hollow. 

Isabela gave Hollow a confused look, "You don't know?" Isabela asked

"No, I am not aware of what happened in this universe," Hollow states. 

"Huh, I was sure that Mirabel would have told you," said Isabela.

Hollow shook her head, "I never asked, and she never told."

"Ahh, well, anyway. Mira says everything that she is is because of her family. Her true strength, according to her. Therefore, it's quite fitting for her door to reflect that." Isabela smiles while pointing back to the door.  

"I see. I wasn't aware that Scrappy could display such wisdom," says Hollow. 

"My little sister is just full of surprises," Isabela says with pride.

"Just go right in. Mira won't mind. I bet you she's trying to regrow her arms again," Isabela adds.

"Wouldn't that be rude?" Hollow asked 

"Nah, all the grandkids basically just enter her room whenever we want. It's only the adults that knock now. Plus, if she really wants privacy, she can lock her door. I'm really glad that you're here, Hollow. I'll see you at dinner." Isabela smiles as she walks toward her room.           

Hollow, feeling weird about entering someone's space without permission, decided to knock on the door. After giving the door a couple of quick knocks, she hears a shout to come in. Hollow enters the door to see Scrappy with half-grown arms struggling to pick up an Arepa with her teeth off a plate. 

"Damn, you get ready fast. It's only been thirty minutes since I left the nursery. Why did you knock? You could have just come in. I wouldn't mind." Scrappy said. 

"Child, I am emotionless, not a barbarian." Hollow deadpans.  

Scrappy shrugs her shoulders, “Suit yourself. Do you mind giving me an arepa? I’ve been trying to pick one up for the last fifteen minutes.” Scrappy asks. 

Hollow sighs and walks over to the plate of Arepas sitting on the desk. She picks one up and puts it into Scrappy’s mouth, “What I am going to do with you?” Hollow asks. 

“Wove me,” said Scrappy with a mouth full of Arepa. 

“I would if I had any emotions left. Now, where did you put your arms?” asked Hollow. 

Scrappy points with her head towards her bed, where she haphazardly tossed her metal arms. Hollow sighs and asks where the case is. Again, Scrappy points her head towards the bed but lower. Hollow shakes her head before walking towards Scrappy’s bed and retrieves the case from under the bed. 

“You know you can’t leave them out like this.” Hollow scolds as she straightens and realine the arms. 

Scrappy nods and swallows the last bit of the Arepa, “I know, I know I’m sorry.” Scrappy says.

“You have to take care of your arms. They could malfunction during critical moments, and then you’re left defenseless.” Hollow says.

“You know, you sound like mi Mama,” Scrappy says with a smirk. 

“Little one, I am Julieta Madrigal, so it doesn’t surprise me that I sound exactly like her.” Hollow states. 

“No, I mean you sound like Mama when she’s concerned about me. I thought you don’t have emotions, Hollow.” Scrappy teases. 

“I don’t. I am simply concerned about your viability for the team. Since you are a key member, your role is vital to the success of our missions. Therefore, if you are hindered in any way, shape, or form, the consequences could potentially be disastrous for Observer and me.” Hollow states as she puts away the metal arms.  

“Mhmm, sure, Hollow, whatever you say,” Scrappy says as she watches Hollow close the case lid and seal it shut. 

“So I take it that not everyone likes your new arms?” Hollow ask. 

“Yeah, some of the villagers and masters did not like it because to them, you should only get metal arms when you’ve actually lost your real ones. Others like señor Barns got freaked out by them,” said Scrappy. 

"Define, freaked out," says Hollow. 

"Well, the minute señor Barns saw my arms, he threw me over his shoulder and rushed me to his friend señor Pantera Negra for deprogramming? Overall, something about undoing some brainwashing stuff." Scrappy muses. 

"Huh, interesting," Hollow mused. 

"Tell me about it. We got about two hours before dinner with my arms now fully grown. Do you wanna explore the village?" asked Scrappy as she shook out her newly grown arms.

"I don't think that's wise. I did draw my gun out at one of them," said Hollow. 

"Oh, the guy you drew your pistol at was Señor Barns. He even brought you here to Casita after you fainted, so yeah, I don't think you scared him. Plus, a good chunk of the village population has been in some form of combat or war before," said Scrappy as she finished bandaging her arms. 

"If that's the case, then let's proceed," said Hollow as she followed Scrappy out of her room and Casita. 

Hollow and Scrappy were walking through the village at a leisurely pace. Hollow took her time to observe her surroundings quietly while Scrappy pointed out things Hollow should know. It took them a whole hour and a half to reach the village marketplace because Scrappy kept stopping to say hello and talk to people. Hollow didn't mind the constant stops. From what she has observed so far, Scrappy's village doesn't seem to rely on the Madrigal's gifts and services, unlike her own. She was glad to see that her young companion lived in such a thriving and supportive community. Currently, Scrappy was engaged in a conversation with two young Southeast Asian women before Luisa came jogging toward them. 

"Mirabel! Dinner will be ready in half an hour. You better start heading back to Casita now, or you and Hollow will be late," Luisa calls out before she continues to jog towards Casita.

"Oh, Lusia's right. We better start heading back, Hollow." Scrappy says as Hollow starts making her way towards Casita. Scrappy then starts saying her goodbyes to the two women. 

"Bye Ate Raya, bye Ate Namaari. I'll talk to you guys later! Please give Tio Benja and Tia Virana my thanks for the spices and rice. I'm sure mi mama would love them. Oh, and say hello to Sisu for me." Scrappy says while walking backward and waving. 

Scrappy waves at the two women for a couple of more seconds before turning around and quickly jogging to Hollow to catch up. 

"Come on, let go before we're late to dinner," Says Scrappy. 

Notes: In Scrappy's AU Encanto is not just a refuge for civilians it's also a refuge for warriors displaced by conflict or lost their home. How did they get there? MAGIC!!!

Thank you to all those who gave me such kind praises. It really means a lot to me. I think there will be two more parts to this story so stay tuned!

It's very cool! I really love how you depicted Scrap and Hollow, very accurate 👍

I'm guessing some metal arms brainwash others lol, Scrap getting thrown over a shoulder 😂😂😂

I really like that Scrap's world is a refuge! Now any raiders or invaders that wants to get Encanto will literally have trauma :>

I like the fanfic/drabble! 10/10, really cool.

[your-nerd-is-showing]

Request for @sassyeahhhh

Hi i really like your work I don't really want to make it awkward but can i request? Levi x female reader fluff smut angst maybe? where she gets hurt and he lashes out (he is also afraid to loose her because of some messed up nightmare?) Ends up with amazing lovemaking and cutesy talk??

It's finally done! I hope I did your request justice!!

PART ONE:

AOT Levi x Reader No Regrets Part 2!!!!

NSFW AFTER PHOTO

Content: Smut

Warnings: unprotected sex, Levi being Levi, sex out in the woods, minors not allowed!

“(Y/N) you’re an idiot you brat!” Yelled Levi as he brought you into the hospital.

“The bastard took me by surprise Levi it’s really not a big deal I'm-I'm f-ahhhh!” You cried out and grabbed your shoulder crimson leaking everywhere.

“Shut it brat. You need stitches that wound is pretty deep. Let’s move it.”

You were instantly seen by the doctor.

“I can kill a God damn titan but get blindsided by a person.” You laughed as the doctor stitched you up. “That's pretty sad!”

“Stupid you need to be more careful! That could of ended up a lot worse than it did (Y/N).” Levi said scolding you.

“I'm sorry Levi…. I promise I will be more careful.” You smiled at him, the doctor soon had you stitched up and ready to go home with Levi. On the walk home you noticed Levi was being extra cautious and overprotective, it was strange to see him act that way.

Levi hid you under his green Scouts cloak, keeping his strong arm wrapped around your waist he walked home. Levi was vigilant, his eyes darting back and forth being aware of every little movement.

Ever since you both joined the Scouts you and Levi had been making quite a name for yourselves. The Power Couple, Humanities Strongest Soldier and The Titan Slaying Princess. Being so famous you had plenty of men chasing after you even though everyone knew you were with Levi they were still stupid enough to try and make a move on you. The men liked to take Levi on as a challenge they were curious to see how someone so small was so strong and he never lost a fight.

You had known Levi since you were ten years old and from the very beginning he was protecting you. He was sixteen when he rescued you from some evil men trying to sell you into slavery. Since that day he watched over you, trained you, Levi turned you into the woman you were today.

You peeked your head out from under his cloak the Scouts camp was right in front of you, you were almost home.

“Hey! Captain Levi! Captain(Y/N)!” Yelled Hanji.

“Hey Hanji!” You smiled and waved at her.

You and Levi had only been a part of the scouts for six months but you both quickly flew through the ranks, becoming respected far and wide.

“What happened to your shoulder (Y/N)?” She asked.

“Oooooh you know the usual challenger trying to take me away from Levi. This one had a friend and thought they could catch us off guard but it didn’t work!” You boasted.

“No!” Levi butted in. “It was a bad situation(Y/N)! You really could of gotten hurt worse than you did. This is really getting out of hand. I hate all these stupid assholes trying to fight me for you!” He yelled starting to get angry. “Tch. If I knew keeping my promise of protecting you was going to involve all of this I wish I didn’t make it!”

You looked at him upset as tears started to fill your eyes. “Well Captain Levi I never forced you into protecting me! I never forced you into a relationship ether! If you don’t want to do ether anymore that’s just fine I can protect myself!” You ran off into the woods.

“Tch stupid brat.”

You ran through the woods for a while until you came to a clearing with a beautiful lake. You paused and looked around. “Something seems off.” You reached into your boot and pulled out a huge knife. “Whoever you are I know you’re out there! Show yourself!” You yelled.

Three men came out of the woods running at you. “Pfffft pathetic.” You scoffed and pulled a second knife out of your other boot. You ran at the men taking them out like it was nothing. “That was almost too easy. Huh?” You turned around and were tackled down to the ground knocking your knives out of your hands. “Fuck! G-get off me you asshole!” You kicked him in his balls to get him off of you. Your tried to get away but he grabbed your ankle. “What the fuck!” You were only inches away from your knife. “I-I can’t get it!” You struggled trying to get away.

“Where’s your bad ass boyfriend no- gahhhh!” The man screamed out in pain.

“He’s right here you bastard!” Levi kicked the mans face in.

Levi walked over to you and helped you up. “T-thanks Levi….”

“Come on lets head back to the camp (Y/N).”

“Hold it just a minute Levi, you can’t just yell at me like that and think everything is okay! That really hurt my feelings…. Why did you say that to me? If you really feel that way why did we have sex that night?” Your eyes teared up again. “We aren’t even in an official relationship! You never asked me to be your girlfriend! Everyone just assumes we are together, including me!” You started to cry. “All you said was that you dreamed of the day you could fuck me! Typical fucking men ever since I was of age men have just looked at me like a piece of meat! I thought you were different Levi! That’s why I fell in love with you!” You stopped yelling when you realized you blurted out that you were in love with Levi. You stood there a hot crying mess becoming more upset by the second.

Levi stood there looking at you shocked.

“Y-you're not even going to say anything to me!” You wanted to run away again in that moment it was as if Levi read your mind and he grabbed you so you wouldn’t run.

“Don't even think about running brat!”

“And there you go again calling me a damn brat! I’m not a stupid Cadet Levi! I’m your fucking partner there may be a six-year age gap between us and I may only be twenty but I am your equal!” You tried to get out of his grasp but it was no use.

“(Y/N)….” He sighed, you stopped struggling and looked up at Levi. “Listen I'm sorry for the way I behaved I'm just….”

“Just what Levi?” You’re eyes widened in shock. “Levi are you crying?”

“I'm-I’m scared that I'm going to lose you (Y/N)!” He started to cry more. “Ever since we lo-lost Furlan and Isabel on the first scouting expedition I've been having horrible nightmares of you d-dying almost every night! It's driving me i-insane I haven’t had a good nights sleep in months. The dreams they feel so-so real….”

“Levi…” You took his face in your hands and wiped away his tears. “Is that why you have been acting so differently?”

“You could tell?”

You gave him an ‘are you serious look'. “Levi come on it’s me we are talking about here! I know you better than I know myself of course I could tell…. I just didn’t know what was causing you to act this way…. I can’t say I’m complaining either…. Emotions look good on you Levi.” You said teasing him as you poked his nose causing him to blush. “Is the great Levi blushing!?” You giggled.

“Hey don’t make fun of me!” He said turning even redder.

“Darling I’m not making fun of you at all. Scouts honor! You’re quite cute when you blush Levi.” You kissed his cheek.

He looked at you and smiled.

“I love it when you smile Levi.” You kissed his lips.

Levi pulled you in closer deepening the kiss, you parted your lips allowing his tongue access as you moaned out feeling a bulge poke at you. Levi broke the kiss. “(Y/N)?” He looked deep into your eyes.

“Yes Levi?”

He pushed you to the ground and straddled your waist. “Will you be my girlfriend?” He asked you, his steel-blue eyes filled with lust and wonder.

“I thought I already was your girlfriend?” You asked him smugly.

“Well I'm making it official…. So will you be my girlfriend (Y/N)?”

“Of course I will Levi.” You kissed his nose.

He smiled. “Good, now we are official.” He started to unbutton your shirt.

You blushed deeply. “Levi wh-what are you doing?” You squeaked out as he pulled your breast out of your bra gently rolling your nipple between his fingers.

“I was hoping we could have make-up sex?” He said smugly. “Hot passionate make-up sex.” He said before nipping at your nipple. “If that’s okay with you of course?”

You grabbed at his pants. “Of course its okay with me Captain, I’m just surprised you wanna do it out here. Where you can get dirty.”

“Mmmmmm I want to get dirty in more ways than one (Y/N)…. Plus tomorrow is laundry day.” He winked at you.

“Oh Levi how can I say no to you?” You giggled.

“Hmmmm you can’t?” He replied smugly as he unbuttoned your pants.

“Especially when you’re looking at me like that with those bedroom eyes.”

Levi smirked at you as he pulled down your pants and underwear. He looked on in wonder as he exposed you, licking his lips he pressed his palm against your womanhood making your juices leak all over his hand. “My, my, my you’re already so turned on (Y/N).” He took his soaked hand licking your juices off slowly and sensually, his eyes never looking away from you as he inserted two fingers.

“Oh-ohhhhh!” You moaned as Levi pumped his fingers in and out of you. Your body wiggled around as he went faster. “Le-Leviiiiii oooooohhhh-oooooooh!” You looked up through half-open eyes at Levi, his gaze was still fixed on you a huge smile across his face.

“Mmmmmm yes (Y/N) I love the facial expressions you’re making right now Princess.” He took his thumb and started to massage your clit, which sent you over the edge making you moan even louder, getting you wetter by the second. He leaned in ever so gently flicking your clit with his tongue, you shuddered at his touch as he leaned in to tease you again.

“F-fuck Levi, s-stop teasing me!” You growled as you pulled on his raven hair.

“Oh but it’s so much fun too.” He said smugly. “I love the way your body responds to me when I touch it.” He nipped at your inner thighs.

“L-Levi!” Your hips bucked wildly.

He let out a sigh. “Very well Princess.” He kissed your abdomen. “As you wish.” He licked his lips as he went down on you.

You let out a sigh of relief as his tongue finally made contact with your clit. “Ah-ahhh yessss Levi ju-just like that!” You cried out as he swirled his tongue around.

Levi loved to eat you out he loved the way you tasted, the way you grabbed his hair and pushed his face into your soaking core. It turned him on so much to give you all this pleasure and he never expected anything in return.

“Le-Levi I'm-I'm gonna cummmmmm!” You wined out as you released your first orgasm squirting into his mouth.

He licked up every last drop before coming up and wiped his face off before kissing you.

Your hands traveled down towards his pants as you kissed him back you unbuttoned them and pulled out his throbbing member. He moaned into your mouth as you ran your hands up and down his shaft. You hastened the pace making Levi moan louder and louder, turning you on even more as his sweet moans filled the night sky. “It’s like a sweet song listening to you moan Levi.”

“(Y-Y/N-N) please don’t s-stop.” He whimpered.

“If you get off me I can give you even more pleasure.” You said giving him a smug look.

He looked at you raising an eyebrow but complied.

You pushed him down and straddled his waist, kissing him passionately as you slowly bucked your hips grinding against his length. His sweet lewd moans turned you on so much, it was a rare sight to see Levi like this he always loved to be the dominant one so if you could get him to be submissive in any little way you jumped at it. The only way you knew how was to go down on him.

Levi broke the kiss and looked at you his face red as a tomato. “(Y/N)?” He traced your lips with his thumb.

“Yes Levi?” You asked even though you knew what he wanted you just liked to hear him ask.

“When you said you’d give me even more pleasure…. Did you mean you’d go down on me?”

“If that is what you want then yes!” You smiled at him.

He nodded his head. “Yes it is (Y/N) I want you to so very badly.”

“As you wish Captain.” You kissed him again before lowering yourself to his member. You gently gripped it in your hands running them along his smooth shaft, you heard his breathing becoming heavier. You glanced up at Levi seeing his complexion with pure ecstasy plastered to it. “I've barely done anything to you Captain and you’re already going crazy.” You said smugly.

“W-what can I say (Y/N) you know how to make me submit to you…. Just with one simple question, I'm like a puddle in your hands…..”

You chuckled. “Mhm and I love it when you get like this…. Something about you being Mr. Tough guy all the time then seeing you be submissive it’s so sexy Levi.”

“And I love to see you dominant, it’s such a turn on to have you take control of me sometimes.”

You smiled at him sensually as you licked the pre-cum off his tip, sending shivers down his spine. You flicked your tongue a few more times watching his member twitch at every lick before taking his member in it’s entirety.

Levi gripped your hair locking eyes with you as he looked on in amazement while your head bobbed up and down. “F-fuck th-that feels so-so-so good (Y/N). Ah-ahhhh! God d-damn!”

You quickened the pace licking and sucking, making his member become even harder. Then you deep throated him again taking Levi's member all the way, hastily going back to the tip sucking it hard as your tongue licked all around while you ran your hand up and down his shaft making him tremble at your touch.

He tugged on your hair letting out a loud moan as you deep throated him once more. “Ugnnnnn ah-ahhhhh! Ooooooh!” He howled as you played with his balls.

You went back to the tip licking and sucking bringing Levi almost over the limit.

“G-God damn (Y/N).” He pulled you off and leaned in kissing you passionately, you moaned into his mouth as his length rubbed against your clit. He deepened the kiss as he slipped in, making you moan louder as he started to thrust. Levi broke the kiss. “(Y/N)?” He looked at you is face was bright red.

“Y-yes Le-Levi?” You moaned out.

“I-I-I…. I love y-you Princess.” He said shyly as he continued to thrust.

Your eyes teared up. “R-really Levi?” You smiled.

He smiled back and nodded. “Yes (Y/N) I have loved you for a very long time.” He held your hips as he went deeper and deeper.

“L-Le-Levi I-I love y-you toooo!” You moaned out as you gushed everywhere.

Levi leaned in again kissing you as he wrapped his arms around you slowing down the pace savoring each moment. He held you close as he looked deep into your (E/C) eyes. “(Y/N) you’re so beautiful…. How did I get so lucky?”

“What do you mean L-Levi-ooooooh!”

He leaned into your ear. “To have someone as amazing as you.” He nipped at your neck as he thrusted faster. He shifted your legs and spread you open. “Here hold your legs just like this.” You did so, Levi spread your lips open as he rubbed your clit.

You moaned out loudly as he went deeper and faster your back arched as your cries of pleasure filled the night sky you reached another orgasm.

“That's it Princess cum for me.” He pulled out to switch positions, you took him by surprise and pushed him down to get on top.

You straddled his waist grinding against his member again making Levi go crazy. You continued to rub your clit making yourself squirt all over Levi.

“F-fuck.” He grunted grabbing your hips as he slid back in.

“So eager to be inside me Levi…. What was he cold and lonely?” You said smugly as you sensually choked him.

He looked up at you biting his lower lip he nodded his head. “Mhmmmm very lonely, he loves the way he fits inside you so perfectly.”

“Oh I bet he does.” You smirked as you slammed down on Levi getting him deep inside you. You gripped his muscular shoulders as you wildly bounced up and down. “Oh-oh-oh Le-Leviiiii!” You cried out as he grabbed your butt spreading your cheeks and pounded into you. You took control again slowing down the pace sensually rocking your hips back and forth.

“F-fuck (Y/N) you keep this up you’re gonna make me cum.” He grunted as he pinched your nipples, you tilted your head back moaning louder and louder as he hit your G-spot perfectly. “(Y/N) I love you so much…. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and have a family.”

“I do too Levi more than anything…. I could never imagine being with anyone but you.” You smiled at him as you continue to rock your hips.

“Well then lets get married someday soon.”

“Yes please my love!” You moaned out as he pounded into you.

He ran his hands up and down every inch of your curves as he went deeper. He could feel himself getting close to his climax and slammed into you even faster. “(Y/N) I'm going to cum….”

“Then give me your babies.” You whispered into his ear.

That sent Levi over the edge as he moaned out releasing himself inside you. He grabbed your head wildly attacking your lips as he thrusted a few more times before pulling out.

You laid on top of him a hot drilling mess panting heavily. “T-that was a-amazing my love!” You cooed as you cuddled close to him.

He kissed the top of your head. “Yes it was Princess. Shall we go back to the barracks, shower and go to bed? I just want to hold you all night and never let you go.”

“I'm never going anywhere for as long as I live. You’re stuck with me Levi.” You giggled as you got up to get dressed.

“Hm, no you’re stuck with me, because I don’t know how the hell you put up with me.” He chuckled as he threw your pants at you.

“Easily! You’re just too sexy for your own good and your sexiness blinds your attitude.” You laughed harder almost falling over.

“Oh really now?” He smiled at you. “You're such a goof.”

“Well I have to balance out your seriousness somehow! If we were both serious this would be a boring romance.”

“That- that is true. You certainly keep me on my toes (Y/N).”

The two of you finished getting dressed and headed back to the barracks.

Hanji came running up to you and Levi. “So how was the make up sex?” She asked smugly.

“It was amazing!” You blurted out. “Wait! How did you know?”

“Ohhhhh I think everyone knows (Y/N) we could hear you all the way over here.” She laughed.

“Ooooops.” You laughed. “Well I’m not sorry at all! Let them hear and be jealous.” You boasted.

[a-smile-hides]

WARPAINT - I.R.

WARNINGS: long fic, description of battles, blood, wounds, death, some time jumps, I had a bit of a block during this …

This was actually requested, so thank you for that! Sorry for the wait. I kind of got carried away with this. My first draft was not so long, but then I realised I kind of wanted a stronger reader and now… well this happened. Hope you enjoy!! xxx

The request: Hello! I wasn't sure if requests were open or not, but I had this idea were the reader is not a shield maiden and prefers doing other things, and shes not exactly that well-built. Maybe there's an attack on kattagat and she's one of the people who were taken? But she fights her way out and goes back to kattagat when ivar was planning a rescue mission (nobody thinks she could fight) but she can because of some reason in the past and she was forced to? I'm literally just throwing ideas.

---

“Correct me if I am wrong, but the Christians that you just defeated have invited you and your brothers – and only you three – to come to their palace to talk about peace?” You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelieve. “You honestly can’t believe that Ivar.”

Ivar sighed. His back was turned towards you as he tightened the straps of his gloves.

“Ivar… Do you?”

Ivar threw his head back, looking up to the sky above him. The sky was bright blue. A couple of birds flew over, following the largest one in their group to their next adventure. Behind him a couple of men sat together whispering and pointing at the exchange in front of them, wondering aloud what or who made you qualified to step up and talk to one of their leaders. “Of course not. It is not me who has turned into a fool.”

His words made you bite your lip. Merely a few hours after the army had returned victorious, a petit man dressed in beautiful red robes decorated with golden leaves had fearfully entered the camp. Stuttering and barely looking into anyone’s eyes, the man proclaimed his lord acknowledged their triumph and had asked the three leaders to come to the castle at sunset. In that way they could discuss the outcome of this victory. This lord, the prince of this dying land, clearly did not want to lose any time.

Ubbe, wanting to take this opportunity of peace, had immediately accepted the offer to which the messenger nodded and ran away, looking like a dog with its tail between his legs. Ivar had been furious and confused by his brother’s naïve decision. But he could not ignore the fact that a part of him was curious to what this prince wanted to offer in exchange for “peace”. This soil was rich, and he knew this land held unknown treasures. Its only flaw was the leadership. And so, he wanted to follow his brothers to this castle. Yet, he knew how foolish they would be if they did not bring their most trusted warriors to the castle.

“You are going no matter what I say?” The question came out as a statement. You didn’t need any answer. The silence that followed and the slight second his movements halted were enough. Slowly, he turned around. A sly grin concealed the doubts he had.

“Do I suspect some concern?”

You licked your lips, shifting your weight to one leg. “I am only worried about my place in this camp. You know they don’t like me here, Ivar. Without you, they might come up with something to get rid of me.” You said laughing airily, your head subtlety nodding in the direction of the men behind you whose eyes were still locked on you two. And although you said it with a small grin, your words held a certain truth. And he knew it too.

Ivar nodded his head. “I would like to see them try.” He whispered, narrowing his eyes.

You could hold back you laugh. Ivar pressed his lips together at the sound, hiding his smile as he watched you. And then, the mood changed. That airy, light feeling disappeared. Everything became serious, while the two of you just stared at each other.

“Be careful?” You asked him again. Your voice was small, barely audible.

Ivar looked up at you and extended his hand, mentioning you to come closer. In a few steps you stood in front of him, patiently waiting for his answer. Tenderly, he grabbed your hand. His thumb brushed over your skin, while his other hand followed the curve of your hip. His brilliant blue eyes stared right up at you. The corners of his mouth slightly curled upwards.

Ivar breathed in deeply, leading your hand to his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he pressed his lips on your hand.

With that you got his silent promise.

***

A fire crackled in the background as the sun began her descent. The dry ground felt cool against your feet. The birds chirped loudly as they flew over the camp. From behind you, you heard someone howl as his friend emptied his cup in one big gulp. The music that was played by some of Sigurd friends amused the crowd. And slowly but surely more and more people joined the drinking game going on around the fire.

The mood was light and happy. Every last man or woman that decided to come along this raid was cheerful because of the recent victory on those pathetic Christians. Ivar had used his tactics and bright mind to conceive a master plan. Ubbe had led them forward with his skills as a warrior and Hvitserk gave the men the support they needed in the middle of the fight. The army, for once, was not big in numbers, but with those three it hardly was necessary.

No one knew who came up with the idea to organize this raid. But not a single soul cared. Since Ragnar’s disappearance, those voyages had been put to a halt and many men and women longed for this opportunity. An opportunity to raid and find treasures and make their families proud. An opportunity to get access to Valhalla.

Now that the three brothers had left to negotiate, the camp had decided to feast. No one was worried for their safety. Even if they had been gone for longer than the few hours they anticipated. The road to the battlefield had been long and tiring. Who knew how far this castle lay?

A fine grin formed on your lips as the sounds filled your ears. With your back turned towards them all as you let your body sway to the rhythm of the music. With both hands you lifted your skirt up, keeping it out of the dust’s range you kicked up as your movements got bigger. The music swelled up and you closed your eyes.

Your mind had been clouded by worries and possible disastrous outcomes for the sons of Ragnar, but now for the very first time since they left, you could let go of those dark thoughts.

Getting lost in the story the tune told you, you did not notice the girl that joined your side. She had come along this raid with her mother, a gifted healer. It was clear she had inherited this knowledge, and therefore wished to accompany her mother on this voyage. Her big eyes were focused on you as she tried her best to imitate your moves. Many times, she almost tripped over her own feet.

With your eyes closed, you kept twirling and dancing to the music. Lost to the world around you and the crowd that watched with amused eyes to the show going on in front of them. Some men catcalled while others were completely obvious to the dance. As the music slowed down, you took a moment to catch your breath. Only now you noticed the people that had their gaze pointed at you.

“Is it true?”

The high voice of the young girl next to you made you snap out of your daze, looking at her with your eyebrow raised.

The young girl grinned; her eyes glimmered with mischief. “Is it true you dance for the brothers like this every evening? They say you do it for Ivar whenever he demands it.”

Her innocent question made you snort; her innocence could not stop the irritation from building up inside of you. It was not the first time someone had asked you this.

Unlike other children, who helped their parents in their line of work, you often hung around the brothers. Acting as a shadow and sneaking up on them. This continued until you came of age, and Hvitserk saw you disappear into the woods with your father. He dragged a heavy cart with him, knives, axes and ropes thrown into it, while you carried a large basket with food in it. At first it did not worry him, but when you did not return for five days, questions arose amongst the brothers. When the day of your return arrived, the men were confused, but happy to see you. Only Ivar had been reluctant, focussing more on the scars and bruises that covered your body. It was only after you had shaken your head at him and asked Sigurd to play your favourite song once again that he warmed up, trying his best to hide his smile as you danced to the music his brother played.

Many wondered why you always danced until your feet got raw. Swaying your hips and twirling around in circles until the sun set in the evening. Many thought it was the effect of plants that you were not supposed to eat or the consequence of your mysterious disappearing in the woods. You learned fast that everything that was not done by most people, was considered odd.

This could be the reason why the youngest prince let you walk beside him. He too was considered as someone odd, someone unusual. Although you were not a shieldmaiden, nor a woman with a famous background, a connection was shared.

Ivar often said to be irritated by your presence and loudly proclaimed that when he was around his brothers. He would hide his smile, only giving it when he knew no one else was around. Sometimes he would utter out a sneaky comment as you passed them, making Hvitserk snicker and Sigurd roll his eyes. Yet never would he allow another to say those out loud. The ones who dared to mock you in his presence usually ended up with a nasty cut on their forehead.

“Y/N, you’re ignoring my question.” The healer’s daughter sang out.

This time you laughed out heartily. “People believe what they want to believe. I must say that I don’t know wh-“

Your voice died as you looked to your left, where the road lay on which Ivar, Ubbe and Hvitserk had departed. Appearing at the horizon was a horse, soon followed by four others. Their riders hitting the animals to make them run faster. Squinting your eyes at the moving figures, you saw how each of them seemed to be shouting, one even raising their sword high in the air. The metal reflected some of the sunlight and made turn your head. The sight only made your heart miss a beat. Behind you, although hard to see due to the evening sun, you could make out the silhouettes of the men that slowly stepped out of the woods.

The girl beside you noticed your worried gaze and followed it to the tree line. Her cheeky smile disappeared immediately once she too noticed the men storming at your camp. All of them carrying various weapons.

The young girl screamed out, making the musicians stop playing and everyone look up. Frightened the girl ran in the direction of her mother’s tent, while you shouted out at the top of your lungs.

“Ambush!”

***

“Does he really think he can bribe us with a bit of land, now?”

Ivar’s soft but menacing words made every Christian man in the large palace room look up alarmed. They did not know what he was saying, because suddenly he had changed to his own language, but his tone had changed drastically. During this whole ordeal, the young man had not spoken much. Only asking a couple of questions on a light and airy tone. Now it seemed as if his patience had reached its end.

“Do not forget that we are in another country, Ivar”

“Ubbe, this kingdom is dying. You are the one forgetting we destroyed them on the battlefield. We should just raid and move on. Maybe we can send word to our home. To little Sigurd. He could stand in as our man here?” He grinned, “Then at least he does something useful.”

Hvitserk lowered his head as Ubbe sighed out.

The prince coughed, snapping the men out of their argument. This man, the only living member of the royal family, had been sitting on his throne uncomfortably ever since the Viking brothers had arrived. He had invited them over in hopes of finding a truce. Some form of agreement so that he and every last resident in his land could come out of this alive. But so far, none of his offers had pleased all the brothers.

“We could take the land, Ivar. The best that is out there. We can demand it from him.” Hvitserk urged, a wide grin on his face. Ubbe nodded at him, patting him on the back. The prince grinned at the interaction.

Ivar rolled his eyes. Something did not feel right. The land was theirs to take. This prince knew it too. He did not get why his brothers suddenly became too soft to continue.

Ivar’s suspicion only grew when a slim man dressed in the same red and golden robes as the messenger that directed them here entered the room. His gaze was only pointed at his lord, trying his best to avoid the heathens that he feared. Bowing for a second, the man stepped forward. He opened his mouth, but then closed it as he finally locked eyes with the three men sitting in front of him. Those heathens knew his language. Leaning forward, he quickly whispered something in the prince’s ear which made him sit up straight. The prince nodded his head at his messenger, thanking him and letting him leave.

For the first time, he stepped off his throne and walked towards the three brothers. He took a moment, nodding to himself as if he were encouraging himself to continue. “Good news, my informant just told me the council has agreed to come together and talk about this arrangement.” The prince stretched his arms out wide, a hopeful smile on his face. Ubbe and Hvitserk nodded their head at him, while Ivar looked away. “This all on the condition that you spare the people and myself and do not attempt another attack on my kingdom.”

***

Blood covered the dusty ground as the large group of men fought their way through the camp. Each of them entering the tents to drag the ones that tried to hide in them outside, claiming their most valuable belongings as their own. Laughing wickedly, each of them left the tent ravished behind them, setting them on fire once all the goods had been taken out of it. Women thrashed around in their holds as men of different ages fought bravely against the marching forces.

It became clear very early that this was a planned attack. A strategical set in a game of vengeance. The clearing had been chosen carefully by the three brothers. It was large enough so anyone who had joined this raiding party could place their tent where they wanted to. It provided a good view on any upcoming forces. And enough scouts were present in the forest, carefully placed there to warn everyone if an attack may happen.

And yet, no signal was sent. Those Christian men snuck up on the camp as if someone had opened the door for them.

As you hid in the tent, you watched with sorrowful eyes how the girl that admired you earlier sat beside her mother. Her little body shook in fear, while tears kept rolling over her rosy cheeks. In the chaos of the attack, you had pulled them with you inside a tent. Your hideout was fragile. Nothing more than a piece of cloth. But at least it was something. A place to think of a better plan.

Two shieldmaidens had followed you inside. One tried her best to look outside, while the other tried to mend her broken bow.

Outside, the screams of anguish and the shouts of war became less prominent, making you think the Christian forces were retreating or at least, that the fight was ending. The shieldmaiden at the opening of the tent seemed to share your thoughts, lifting her hand in a silent demand for the girl to calm down.

Her brows were furrowed as she slowly pushed away the material that closed your hideout. Her eyes scanned the area, but seemed not to find any enemy.

“I can’t see anyone. We cannot stay here. The girl will betray us with her cries.” She whispered out. Her eyes going from her fellow shieldmaiden to the mother.

“She is a child!” The woman whisper-shouted, pressing her whimpering daughter against her chest.

“If she is a child than why is she even here?” The other shieldmaiden snapped back. “The camp is not a sacred place free of any harm.”

The mother scowled at the woman, running her hand over her daughter’s head in a comforting way. “I’ve come along raids many times. Not once have I-“

Her angry words were silenced by the gasp her daughter lets out. Frightened for the safety of her girl, the women grabbed her tightly. But her daughter had not been harmed. Her finger shakily pointed forward as her eyes filled themselves with tears.

The shieldmaiden that was looking out the tent, lay now dead on the floor. Her throat pierced by an arrow.

“Audhilde” Her fellow shieldmaiden whispered out, her hands clenched into fists. Without thinking you jumped up, grabbing the axe the fallen shieldmaiden had taken with her.

In the moment it took you to grab the axe, a second arrow entered the tent, missing you by an inch. The feeling of the arrow zooming past your face made you choke on your breath. Looking to the left you saw two men fight with each other, one of them holding a crossbow in his hands.

Sniffing, the other shieldmaiden took a seat next to you. Her eyes were clouded by the anger rising inside of her. With harsh movements, she lined up her arrow.

“What are you playing at?” She hissed, as you held her back.

Remaining silent, you stared straight into the fiery eyes of the shieldmaiden next to you, while your hand kept pushing the bow down. The woman in front of you frowned, opening her mouth, but was silenced when you placed your finger on your lip. Slowly, you crawled backwards, pulling the woman with you to hide behind the fabric.

Nodding your head towards the small mirror that was placed on the box next to the healer and her child, you made the shieldmaiden aware of the danger right outside the tent. In the reflection you could make out a man. He walked hastily around the tent in front of your hideout, before deciding that the one on its right was the one he needed. A second soldier joined him, and together they entered the tent.

You tilted your head, frowning at their odd behaviour. As you took a better look at them, your confusion only grew. They seemed to be in a rush. As if they were the ones being hunted, as if they were struck with fear and wanted this to end as fast as possible.

The shieldmaiden next to you grew tired of waiting inside the tent. Waiting was just the same as giving up, she thought. Pushing you aside, she took a seat next to the entrance. With the tip of her arrow she carefully pulled back the material of the tent, giving herself more room to get a good look at the outside world.  

“Why haven’t they burned ours yet?” You wondered out loud.

The shieldmaiden snorted, looking over her shoulder briefly. “Why should I care?”

“Look around you. They are not walking around as men that believe in their cause. Only a few seem proud to fight for their lord. We are losing this. We are being slaughtered. And still, most of them seem so scared of what may come after them…”

Your words made the woman in front of you think for a second, before she shook her head and lined up her arrow once more.

“Try to get out as fast as you can. Run to the forest. Take ‘whiny’ and her mother with you. I will take care of those fuckers outside.” She groaned, before she shot her first arrow and launched herself out of the tent.

The shake of your head went not unnoticed by the mother, who looked at you confused. Her insides boiling with anger due to the shieldmaiden abandoning her and her only child in the middles of an ambush with a woman who seemed unfit to protect them.

“Pure suicide. This is going way too fast. Attacking now that the three brothers are not here ...” You mumbled out. The words coming out fast and quiet, crumbling the little hope the woman had. Not only did that shieldmaiden leave her alone with a seemingly unfit person, but now that person was mad too. “They planned this all!”

The conclusion made you snap back to the reality around you. The frightened girl shaking in her mother’s arms, the sounds of swords clashing just outside your tent, yells of terror in the distance. You looked down, the axe lying comfortably in your hand. With a small nod to the mother you told her to get up. Quickly, she scrambled to her feet, lifting her daughter up. Her eyes immediately went to the entrance of the tent, but you held her back.

“Go out there and you’ll die.”

The words made her halt. She wanted to scream back at you, but the confident glare on your face made her bite her tongue. “Where do we go then?”

Not answering her, you stepped forward slightly, bending down to get a look of the frightening world outside the tent. Outside the shieldmaiden who had carelessly run out of her hideout was fighting against one of the soldiers. Her face was covered in the blood of her opponents. Skilfully, she kept the man at bay with a sword she had taken from the ground. But beyond her knowing, a second man slowly made his way towards them. The grin on his face was vicious. He was one of the few who enjoyed this all. Collecting all of your power to restrain yourself, you watched how he snuck up on the shieldmaiden and sliced her shoulder with his sword. Turning around before you saw her end, you tried to see if you could find another way to escape.

There was no way you could fight your way out of here. Even if you wanted to, the possibility of stepping outside this tent and be met with the same fate as that woman was too high. Nevertheless, staying in this tent was no option either.

Blinking at the weapon in your hand, an idea struck you. Without hesitation you walked straight towards the back of the tent, followed by the mother and her daughter. With brute force, your pushed away everything that kept you from reaching the fabric of the tent. A couple of boxes, the mirror, some candles, they all landed harshly on the ground. The mother watched perplexed as her daughter escaped her grip and helped you. Your lips curved upward as you looked into her eyes. Raising your eyebrows, you lifted up the axe in the air.

“We’re making us a way out of here…”

With the axe, you sliced the fabric of the tent, ripping it apart. Careful not to end up like the death shieldmaiden inside the tent, you opened the gab slowly, searching for any possible foe.

“Everything’s clear. When I say go, run. Run and do not stop until you’re deep into the woods.”

Not waiting for an answer, you walked around the tent, straight towards the boxes you carelessly threw through the tent. There had to be something in here for them to protect themselves with. The mother narrowed her eyes at your plan, the concern for her daughter made her be on edge. But her daughter nodded determined.

You smiled as you stumbled across a knife. Nodding your head at yourself, you walked up to the mother.

Her confusion did not disappear once you presented her with the knife, but without hesitation she took it from you. “How do you know all of this?”

Not containing the sinister laugh that escaped your lips, you grinned back at the mother.

“My dad wished for a son.” You muttered out, raising your eyebrows at her.

Before you could step outside to get one final look, you heard a low chuckle behind you. Turning around, your eyes widened as they made contact with the men that had attacked the shieldmaiden only a few moments ago.

“Three little birds in a cage.”

“Now!”

In a flinch the mother and her daughter ran out of the tent. The young girl screamed and cried while she held the hand of her mother, her tearful eyes glued on you until she disappeared out of your sight.

The man grunted, irritated by their escape. However, he still had one little bird left. Slowly, as a fox sneaking up on his prey, he walked towards you. Confident in his skills. You licked your lips. Chuckling, the man took a step forward, the sword in his hand raised high above his head. Without thinking, you ducked underneath his swing, sidestepping to avoid him completely. With all the power you could muster up, you sliced the axe across his back. The man hollered, pressing his hand against the wound. As he took sight of the blood on his hand the man simply laughed at you, muttering under his breath. There was no sign that this man was one of those weak one-God lovers Ivar used to tell you about.

The man’s eyes had become very dark. And with a load roar he ran towards you, making you duck to avoid his dangerous move. The man, not expecting this, could not hold himself back and thrashed through the tent and the opening you just made, falling down on his face as he flew through the gab. Not wasting the moment, you ran after him, pushing him down with your foot and hitting him with the stump side of your axe so you could knock him out. As fierce as you may be now, a shieldmaiden was not what you were at heart.

“Heathen!”

The word made your blood run cold. A couple of men had spotted you. Running towards you at full speed, their swords raised high in the air. Turning around and deciding that your time acting as a hero was over, you tried to make a run for it, sprinting to the trees.

With each step the tree line came closer. And with that, your freedom. An escape from the terrible fate of being captured by the enemy. Behind you, tents were still burning. Christian soldiers and Viking warriors lay dead on the bloody floor. Those that had started their escape too late either trashing in the hold of those Christians or hiding in the few tents that were still untouched.

Another step. The trees were so close. Two men ran in front of you. Both carrying their wounded friend, trying their best to get him to safety. Grunting as they carried him forward, completely ignoring his pleas to leave him behind.

Another step. With a quick look behind your shoulder, you noticed that those Christian soldiers had stopped following you. Instead, there was only one remaining. Standing lonesome, next to a tent that was lightened on fire. Not slowing down, you kept running.

And then.

Pain.

A sharp cry passed your lips as the piercing, throbbing pain in your shoulder knocked you off your feet. Falling down on your stomach, you tried your best to look at your right shoulder, where an arrow had pierced your flesh. Moving felt almost impossible, the pain keeping you down on the ground. Leaving you vulnerable. An easy prey for the Christian soldier that walked up to you, grinning wickedly while playing with the bow in his hand.

---

Thank you for reading xxx

Tags: @fairyofvoid​

[rhys-writes-sometimes]

Music Worth Making Part 2: Flying Solo

Requested: no

Warnings: death, knives, unedited bad writing

Series Summery: When the reader’s life is ripped away from them, they’re distraught. But with her two best friends and three certain ghosts, maybe the afterlife isn’t so bad after all. 

Chapter Summery: The reader is formally introduced to the boys.

Words: 2128

A/N: Okay so things are starting to pick up now. And wow I didn’t expect so many people to like my last fic lol. Anyway I hope you like it!! I’m gonna start working on part three soon.

Part 1 | Part 3 | Masterlist

______________________________________________________

You gasped along with the rest of the crowd.

“How’d she do that?” you heard Flynn mutter. 

“Wait, were those holograms?” someone shouts. Julie looked relieved.

“Yes! Yes, they were holograms.” You knew her well enough to see that she was lying, but knew she must have her reasons. Right?

“Okay people, show’s over.” Principal Lessa started shooing people out of the gym and back to their classes.

You and Flynn hung back, wanting to talk to Julie.

Julie hopped off the stage after talking to Principal Lessa and Mrs. Harrison for a moment. You could tell she was excited. 

“Wow, you did it! Congrats,” you say, excited that Julie wasn’t going to be kicked out of the music program. 

“Thanks to you two.” Julie pulled the two of you into a brief hug. Flynn pulled away quickly. 

“Hey, you okay?” Julie asked her, frowning slightly. 

“Uh… I’m great,” she answered, smiling uneasily. “When… when did you start playing with a hologram band?”

“Oh! It was just one song. We’re not a band. They’re a band, a hologram band. Definitely holograms…”

“Yeah, we saw.” you said, trying to calm the tension clearly rising between your two best friends. 

Flynn kept staring at Julie, confused. “Why have you been keeping those cute boys a secret?”

“There’s a reason for that, it’s just… really crazy.” Julie was clearly trying to cover something up. You and Flynn gave each other a look that said “what’s going on with her?”.

“Oh, I’m all about crazy! Let’s hear it.” Now Flynn was just trying to get Julie to admit she was lying. 

Julie hesitated for a moment. “Okay. Um, so they’re… from Sweden!”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“Yeah, turns out they’re not only great at making meatballs, but also good at making music. So, they play there, I stream them here, we play together, they leave and that’s it. So! Who’s excited I’m back in the music program!” Julie finished with jazz hands, desperately changing the topic.

“Jules, are you lying to us?” Flynn asked.

Julie dropped her act. “Yeah. Yeah I’m lying.”

The look of hurt on Flynn’s face said it all. “Since when do we lie to each other?”

You were hurt too, but you didn’t want to make the whole scene worse, so you said nothing. 

“Flynn… Y/N…. I’m sorry.”

Flynn scoffed. “‘I’m sorry’? That’s all you’ve got?” She grabbed your hand. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s go.”

“Flynn, wait! Y/N!” Julie called out after you. You looked back at her, your heart feeling heavy with Julie’s betrayal. 

-----

“Flynn, where are we- ow!” you were cut off as Flynn pulled you down behind some bushes as a car passed. You pulled your hand away, rubbing your wrist. 

“Sorry, Y/N, I just…” She glanced around as if looking for something. 

Or someone. 

“It’s fine,” you said with a sigh. “So, where are we going?”

“To Julie’s house. Come on.” 

You ran the rest of the way, hiding every time you heard a car coming. You could tell Flynn was planning on doing something, but you had no idea what it was. 

She popped up from behind some bushes next to Julie’s house, looking around to make sure the coast was clear. She didn’t see Julie until it was too late.

“Flynn!” she called out. Grimacing because you two had been caught, Flynn gestured for you to come out of hiding. 

“And Y/N…” Julie added, slightly confused when you popped up next to Flynn. She shook her head, as if to clear it. “What are you guys doing here? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Well, not all over, ‘cause here we are,” Flynn stated dully as she started walking over to Julie. You followed her.

“I’ve been texting you both all day. The least you could have done is text me back!”

“Flynn stole my phone,” you defended yourself. 

“And I sent a poop emoji. I think it said everything. I was just leaving this.” Flynn pulled her Double Trouble t-shirt out of her backpack and tried to hand it back to Julie. “I won’t need it anymore.”

“I’m not taking it.”

“Fine. Then my dad can wash his car with it. Though all this betrayal on it might scratch his paint.” She shoved the shirt back in the bag. Julie flinched slightly at Flynn’s harsh words. 

“Look, I’m very sorry for not telling you,” Julie started. Flynn crossed her arms. “But I- I need you to know how important you both are to me! There’s no way I would have made it through this year if it wasn’t for you guys.”

“Yet it was three strangers who got you back into music. I don’t need someone in my life who lies and keeps things from me. Neither of us do.” Flynn grabbed your hand again. And started to walk away. 

“Goodbye, Julie,” you said softly before being dragged away by Flynn. 

Before you could get anywhere, however, Julie grabbed onto your other hand and pulled you and Flynn back.

“They’re ghosts.”

“Wh-  what?” you asked, your nose wrinkling in shock and disbelief. 

“The boys in my band. They’re not holograms, they’re ghosts. And when we play together, people can see them.”

“What do you mean, ‘ghosts’? Like the kind that rattle chains and go ‘boo!’?” Flynn rolled her eyes.

“No, and I’m pretty sure that’s just a hurtful ghost stereotype. These guys are just normal dead dudes! Well…. Reggie’s a little questionable.” Julie defended herself. You were starting to get worried for her. Flynn pulled out her phone. 

“Who are you texting?” You and Julie asked together. You looked at each other and smiled slightly. 

Flynn rolled her eyes again. “Your dad. He told me to text him if I was worried about you and um…” she gestured to Julie. “I’m worried. You’re seeing things, Jules.”

“Flynn has a point, Jules,” you said.

Julie looked at you, annoyed. “All right. So you wanna be difficult.” She took the phone from Flynn’s hands. “Meet me in my mom’s studio in thirty minutes, and I’ll prove to you that I’m not crazy. And… please don’t text my dad.” She gave Flynn’s phone back to her. 

She sighed. “You have thirty minutes.”

Julie sighed and glanced down at Flynn’s bag.

 “Eggs?” she asked, her face showing her confusion. “Why did you bring eggs?”

“Oh! Um…. no.” Flynn laughed awkwardly. “No. See, I grabbed those by mistake. It’s not like I was gonna convince Y/N to help me throw them at your bedroom window or anything…”

You elbowed her. “We were gonna do what?”

Julie just sighed and started walking to the studio. 

“Thirty minutes!” Flynn called after her. 

-----

“Thanks for coming,” Julie said with a small laugh as she opened the doors to the studio. “We just wanted to rehearse the song so it was perfect, which it’s not, but whatever.”

“No, if we’re gonna hear a song from your imaginary ghost band, I want it to be perfect.” Flynn squeezed your hand. “So, get back in there. All of you. You too,” she added, pointing at the air, earning a laugh from you and Julie. 

“They’re not out here,” she explained. 

Flynn put her hand on Julie’s shoulder. “Oh I know,” was all she said before walking into the studio, hand-in-hand with you. 

“Uh, actually, could you guys go over there?” Julie asked, pointing to the couch. “Reggie needs some space to rock out, and he feels kinda weird walking through you.”

Flynn laughed. “Boy, when you create a world, you really live in it.”

“Just sit!” Julie said, pushing you down onto the couch.

“Now, if you’ll notice, there’s no equipment that will produce a hologram. Feel free to look around.”

You double checked, but Julie was right. The studio looked the same as it had when Rose was playing in it. You felt a slight pang in your chest as you thought of the woman who had become a second mom to you. 

Julie started talking again, bringing you out of your thoughts. “The guys took a poem I wrote about you both and put it to music.”

“Aww. I wish I didn’t have to talk to your dad after this.” Flynn crossed her arms. You smiled at Julie. You were concerned for her mental health, but it was sweet that she had written a poem about you and Flynn. 

“It’s called Flying Solo. Hope you like it.”

She started playing, and you felt yourself getting caught up in the song. 

“If I leave you on a bad note, leave you on a sad note, guess that means I’m buying lunch that day.”

It was a really sweet song, and you were vibing to it when the boys you had seen at the spirit rally suddenly appeared from thin air. Flynn screamed. You jumped back, startled by both the scream and the sudden appearance of the boys. 

They smiled at your and Flynn’s reactions, but continued playing with Julie, their voices blending together in harmony. 

When there was a brief interlude, Julie pulled you and Flynn off the couch and introduced you to the guys. The one in the orange beanie, Luke, crossed over to a microphone by the couch, smiling at you as he sang. 

Flynn walked over to the one in flannel, Reggie, and stuck her hand through his shoulder. 

“Weird, right?” he said with a smirk.

“They’re ghosts!” Flynn exclaimed.

Your eyes widening, you glanced over at Luke. Would your hand go through him?

As if reading your thoughts, he stopped playing for a minute and held out his hand to you. After hesitating for a second, you tried to take it, only for your hand to slip right through his. 

“Whoa,” you breathed. Turning to look at Julie, wide eyed, you blurted out: “They are ghosts!”

Luke smirked.

“Oh, uh, we prefer the term ‘musician spirits’,” the one on the drums, Alex, said. 

Reggie pointed at Alex and nodded to show his agreement. 

“Julie?” Luke asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “So, does this mean you’re joining our band?”

“Uh, actually,” Flynn walked over to him with her hands on her hips. “I think you’re joining her band.”

Julie leaned on Flynn. “I’m gonna go with what she said.” You laughed. Luke, Alex, and Reggie smiled before continuing with the song. You stood up and danced with Julie and Flynn.

“My life, my life would be real low, zero, flying solo without you!” Julie belted as the song finished. You started clapping just as the rest of the band vanished. 

Julie smiled at you. “You still wanna talk to my dad?” she asked Flynn.

“No, I’m good,” the girl replied. All three of you giggled. 

“Oh!” you said, checking the time. “I have to go pick up Danny. I’ll see you guys later!” you said with a wave as you walked out of the studio. You had been in there so long that you hadn’t noticed the clouds covering the sun. 

You had made it about halfway to the field when it started to rain. It started lightly, but then all of a sudden, it was pouring. You cursed under your breath as you started running. Practice would be ending early. 

“Ugh!” you grunted as you tripped and fell into a puddle, pain coursing through your ankle. You weren’t sure if you would be able to stand on it, but you had to try. You had to get to Danny. 

Plus, you had the uneasy feeling that someone was watching you. 

“Oh dear, are you hurt?” asked a voice from behind you. You whipped your head around to find a tall man dressed in a shimmering black cloak-like coat, complete with a top hat. He kneeled down next to you. You weren’t exactly comfortable with him being there, infact he gave off a feeling of mystery and deceit, but you couldn’t exactly get up and leave.

“Oh, um, I’m alright, thank you, though,” you said, giving the man your sweetest smile. It was the one you used most often to hide behind. 

He glanced at your ankle, which you were holding with both hands, and frowned slightly. “Twisted ankle?”

You nodded. 

The man shook his head slightly before standing up and extending a hand to you. “Let me help you up.”

You took his hand gratefully, leaning on him slightly for support and wincing when you put weight on your ankle. 

“I’m sure it will be fine,” you said, looking at your ankle. “Thank you.”

You looked back up in time to see that the man had taken out a knife. Your eyes widened as he drove it into your heart.

You died without a sound.

Tag list: @sunsetcurvej

[lilbabycee]

may we be blessed with a smutty birthday drabble w Steve where he has everyone pretend they forgot readers birthday when in reality there’s something big planned 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 never had a big bday so I will be living through this lolz

change of plans // steve rogers 

↳ pairing: steve rogers x reader

i’m actually sorry this took so long and sorry that it’s so long too lol:

you don’t know if you’re ready to face today.

it’s your birthday and you’ve never done anything big or extravagant - you think that maybe you’d like to keep it that way, though you’ve never had a big celebration before so you don’t even know how that’d feel. maybe there’s something comforting about the predictability of how today is going to go, but you can’t help the part deep inside of you that longs for something new.

waking up to an empty bed, you brace yourself for some kind of over-the-top present from tony but as you head out of your bedroom, you find the rest of you and steve’s apartment entirely unchanged. you tentatively walk through empty hallways into the kitchen and everyone is standing around aimlessly, chatting to each other about insignificant things and attempting to make themselves breakfast.

“hi guys,” you smile at all of them and they return the sentiment. “what are you making?”

steve breezes by you to press a brief kiss to your forehead before shoving a piece of burnt toast into his mouth. his voice is muffled when he says, “mornin’ doll.”

“looks like it’ll be cereal cause none of these idiots know how to cook,” natasha sidles up to you, narrowing her eyes and shaking her head playfully at the group of men crowding the kitchen. “sam’s still working out and we don’t wanna have to wait until he’s done. we probably should’ve though: he’s the only one who knows how to make anything decent in here.” she nudges your shoulder, “any plans today?”

you’re momentarily thrown, blinking in confusion because natasha always remembers your birthday. 

“uhh,” you shake your head and plaster a smile on your face, “no, nope. not up to much really. how about you?”

bruce strolls by and waves at you while natasha plucks a grape from his bowl, popping it into her mouth. he gives her a look but she just smirks as she chews slowly, ignoring him and turning back to you. 

“actually, fury called not too long ago. he’s got some important mission lined up for us somewhere in alaska... surveillance or something.”

“oh,” you frown, brow furrowing because you thought that you would’ve heard about it. “should i go suit up or...?”

“actually,” natasha swallows her grape and stands up straight, “it’s only some of us going. sam and bucky are staying here with you: the rest of us are heading out in about an hour.”

your heart sinks at the thought of not being able to spend your birthday with the whole team, though it seems as if they’ve forgetten anyway so maybe it’s not that big of a deal. but the thought is fleeting because you realize that you’re going to be able to spend some quality time with two of your favorite people who will definitely have remembered your birthday. 

when the quinjet takes off an hour and a half later, sam, bucky, and yourself are all left standing on the launchpad, bucky’s hair blowing dramatically in the gust of wind that it leaves behind.

“so,” bucky rocks back on his heels and stares at you with a mischievous smile on his face. “what do you wanna do?”

“neither of you have any plans?” you look at them skeptically but they both shake their heads. you look down, disappointed because they always do something fun for you on your birthday. sam always bakes a cake and bucky always lets you win when you’re sparring but since neither have happened today, you’re assuming that they’ve forgotten... just like everybody else.

sam shrugs noncommitally.

“nope,” he adds, giving you a charming gap-toothed grin. “i mean, i’ve got some paperwork to do and i’m sure bucky’s got some knives to sharpen or something-”

bucky pins him with a glare but then looks back to you. “-but otherwise, we’re totally free...so, doll?”

“we could watch a movie?”

“yes!” sam exclaims excitedly, already sprinting inside. you and bucky are still staring at the door he burst through when you hear him call out: “i’ve got dibs on the first pick!”

that makes bucky’s eyes go wide and he quickly starts to chase after him. 

“fuck no- sam!”

you’re sandwiched between your two heavily muscled best friends, cuddled up on the sofa with your body spread across the laps of both sam and bucky. a thick blanket is draped over all three of you while die hard plays in the background, but none of you are paying attention because you’re all making each other cry with laughter which drowns out the sound of the movie. 

“we should go out tonight,” bucky casually suggests during a lull in the conversation, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the table.

“true,” sam agrees, nodding his head. you look at him in shock because his default state is to always disagree with bucky. “the others aren’t supposed to be back for a couple of days so i don’t wanna stay all cooped up in here. you down, sugar?”

“yeah, i’ll go,” you nod, playing with your fingers because you’re still so shocked that they’re just casually making plans like today isn’t your birthday. of course you’re not going to point it out to them - you don’t want to make a big deal out of it, but you think that it’d be nice to be wished a happy birthday at least once today.

hours later, you’re wearing your favorite outfit - “we’re going to dinner, darlin’,” bucky let you know earlier - and just touching up your face when bucky and sam pause their incessant bickering to call you downstairs. at this point, you’ve come to terms with the fact that not a single person in your life has remembered your birthday. you’d shed a couple of tears in the bathroom not because you are dying for a huge birthday celebration, but rather because it goes to show that you don’t hold a lot of relevance in these people’s lives. 

nobody on the team has ever forgotten a teammate’s birthday, so it cut deep this morning when they all went about their day as normal and barely even acknowledged your presence. you tried to brush it off but the moment you were alone, it all hit you like an oncoming freight train. 

ready to forget this disappointing day and move on, you come down the stairs as quickly as you can and head to the front door only to see sam and bucky dressed impeccably and... still arguing. they stop when you stand in front of them. sam whistles loudly which makes you roll your eyes playfully while bucky just nods his head.

“you look great, doll,” he smiles at you and not being able to take any more compliments, you clear your throat loudly and step in between them.

“let’s go,” you say and grab a coat, stepping into the garage. once you all pile into one of tony’s many cars, you take off into the night. 

you’re too distracted by your racing thoughts to notice the moment that you pull up outside of an extravagant hotel. you frown as you get out of the car because you thought you were going for dinner at the restaurant on the other side of town. 

“change of plans, lil bit. tony recommended this place to us a few weeks ago and we just never got around to going.” sam smiles at you, offering you an arm as bucky flanks your other side. when you step foot inside of the luxurious building after handing the car keys to the valet outside, a well-dressed usher leads you down a hallway to an entirely separate part of the ground floor. you don’t think much of it because you’re used to private dining when tony’s involved, but you manage to lose both of your friends by the time you’ve made it through the labyrinth of hallways. 

“excuse me, have you seen the two men i was with just a second ago?” you ask the usher kindly. he looks back at you and just smiles.

“this way, please,” he gestures for you to open the doors however, something doesn’t feel quite right. you’re on high alert but you tentatively push open the heavy gold doors anyway, hand ready to grab the knife that’s resting snugly in your thigh holster.

what you’re not expecting is a lounge filled with balloons and a chorus of “surprise!”, so loud that your bones threaten to jump out of your skin.

the room has been decorated in all of your favorite colors, lights strung up everywhere and banners in bold letters that say happy birthday, y/n!, as well as all of your favorite people with beaming smiles on their faces. sam and bucky are standing with rhodey in the corner and as you stare at them disbelievingly, bucky just throws you a wink.

“wh-what,” you stutter, teary eyes round with confusion, “what the fuck?”

“happy birthday, angel,” a very familiar voice comes from behind you and you spin around to throw your arms around your boyfriend’s neck in glee.

“all this?” your voice is muffled in his shoulder. “for me?”

“all for you, baby,” steve murmurs, rubbing his hand up and down your back. “you didn’t think we’d actually forget, did you?”

“i- i mean,” you exhale, shaking your head, “maybe? i just didn’t know how important it was to you guys-”

“y/n,” he takes your face between his hands and stares at you solmenly, “you are the most important thing in my life-”

bucky clears his throat in protest but steve ignores him.

“-and i would be a fool not to celebrate you everyday. it really got me thinking when you told me that you’ve never had something big done for your birthday. you deserve something extravagant and over-the-top because you deserve to be appreciated every second of your life because you’re so loved by everyone here. are we clear?”

you can’t help but kiss the stupid lopsided smile off his face because you love this man more than you’ll ever be able to articulate. to give the two of you some privacy, everyone else has started drinking and dancing, speaking to their friends animatedly as they avert their eyes from you and steve’s private moment.

when steve slips his tongue in your mouth and his hands wander down to grab your ass, you moan into the kiss only to pull away seconds later, blinking up at him as you both try to catch your breaths.

“steve, we’re in a room full of people,” you remind him.

“then let’s get out of here,” he presses you into his front and you can feel the hardness of his cock against your stomach. 

“but i haven’t said hi to anyone else yet,” you whine, not wanting to be rude. 

“we’ll come back, baby,” he brushes his nose against the curve of your jaw. “just a couple minutes. you look so fuckin’ good right now i don’t know if i’ll be able to last any longer without getting my cock in that tight little-”

“steve!” you gasp, swatting his arm and then looking around to see if anybody’s heard him, but he just chuckles low in your ear, soft lips dropping kisses on your even softer skin.

“c’mon, doll,” his teeth catch on your earlobe and your bite your lower lip, contemplating whether or not you should give in to your horny boyfriend. “they won’t even notice we’re gone-”

“uh, we definitely will,” tony strolls over and butts in with a smirk on his lips and a drink in his hand. “happy birthday, babe.”

“thanks, tones,” you give him a one-armed hug because steve still won’t let go of you. 

“your real present from me is over there,” he gestures vaguely to a huge pile of presents that makes your eyes go wide again, “but out of the kindness of my heart, i can also give you the gift of my wonderful storytelling so that people won’t notice that you guys have gone off to f-”

“thank you, tony!” you kiss his cheek quickly and proceed to drag steve towards a hallway that you assume leads to the bathrooms. you wave to your other friends briefly as you walk out, finding that the hallway you’ve gone down doesn’t lead to the bathroom, but rather a set of elevators. you and your boyfriend both pause, taking a minute to look at each other and you can almost see the lightbulb that pops over the both of your heads.

steve presses the up button and then his lips are on you, hands roaming your body eagerly against the closed doors of the elevator. slowly, his fingers travel underneath your clothes and start to massage your bare skin. you do the same, one hand gripping his hair and the other undoing the button to his slacks, shoving your hand into the band of his underwear desperately to palm at his manhood.

he hisses, stopping his assault on your body to throw his head back at the feeling of your deft fingers stroking him like that. you’re about to pull his lips towards yours again when you hear a chime and promptly stumble backwards, taking your supersoldier with you. 

you cry out a laugh as you fall into each against the wall, drunk on desire and your adoration for the flustered man in front of you. chuckling, steve stabs the first button on the panel and is immediately kissing you again, tongue delving deep into your mouth as his large hand tightly grasps your jaw. 

as the doors close and you start to move upwards, steve wedges one of this thick thighs in between your legs, pressing the muscle of his leg into your core. 

“ride it, darlin’, c’mon,” he breathes into your ear, leaving wet kisses down your throat and framing your hips between his hands. you do as you’re told, pushing your hips down onto his thigh to get some friction to relieve the heat that’s building in your stomach.

“so good for me, that’s it sweetheart.”

it’s a quick ride to the top but with steve rutting against your hip with your hand down his pants and you against his leg with his fingers in your underwear dancing over your center, the two of you gradually push yourselves to a climax, almost there until there’s that same chime again. your boyfriend swiftly picks you up and you squeal, wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. his hands massage the globes of your ass as you walk across the roof, onto the edge of the balcony that overlooks the upper east side.

he rests you against the ledge and you keep one of your legs around him as he gets both of your clothes out of the way so that he can run the tip of his hard cock along your needy hole.

“shit, baby,” he spits right onto it, slapping his cock against your swollen skin, and you groan loudly, involuntarily clenching around nothing. “m’not gonna last.”

“neither am i,” you reassure him. “please steve, i need it.”

“i’ve got you, doll.”

he doesn’t say anything else because his eyes are glued at the mesmerizing way that his bulbous tip gets swallowed by your tight entrance. he rocks his hips back and forth, burying himself deeper and deeper into you until he bottoms out with a loud moan.

there are tears in your eyes from how good it feels; the open air on your nipples and the fact that someone could see you like this, vulnerable and open with a cock buried deep inside you, makes you shudder, trails of water spilling onto your cheeks. 

“oh my god, sweetheart,” steve murmurs reverently. usually he takes a minute to let you adjust to his size, but the two of you are so close that he just goes for it, the sound of your lovemaking echoing into the night sky. 

“yes, yes- fuck, steve, please,” you blink up at him and he uses his thumbs to wipe the tears off your face, pressing kisses to both of your cheeks. 

“i know, baby, i know,” he reassures you, his own skin slick and cool in the evening air as he continues to drive into you relentlessly. you ignore how uncomfortable the exposed stone on your naked body is because you’re almost there and you know he is too.

“m’gonna come, honey,” he tells you, hands coming up to pinch your nipples at the same time he bites into your neck. “you gonna let me come in you? give you my birthday present?”

you can barely speak, babbling incoherently as your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head but you nod eagerly, nails digging into his back as he uses you to chase his orgasm.

“come for me, baby - c’mon, milk my cock, s’all yours.”

his words push you over the edge, your entire body convulsing as your breath is snatched from your lungs. you contract around his length and he stills entirely as he spills his release into you, the guttaral moan that leaves his chest raw and animalistic.

“fuck,” he drawls as he presses his forehead against yours. 

“right?” you agree, looking right into his pretty eyes, brighter than the lights behind you.

he presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

“happy birthday, baby.”

“thank you,” you kiss the corner of his mouth and run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, “i love you.” 

as his chin rests on your shoulder, you take a minute to appreciate how thoughtful the big blonde man in your arms and you don’t think you’ve ever loved anyone this much in your life. 

“can we do this every birthday?”

you laugh at his suggestion and tug lightly on his hair, heart about to explode from adoration.

“sure we can.”

“hey, lovebirds!” tony’s voice makes the two of you jump in surprise. “i’m not gonna turn the corner because i know for a fact that you’re not wearing any clothes, but i should definitely warn you that bucky and sam are on their way up with their phones... so unless you want a pornhub feature, i’d haul ass and get back downstairs if i were you. happy birthday, y/n!”

you both look at each other and then the mess that is your pile of clothes, and in unison you both realize that you’re fucked either way. but you know that it’s worth it since you’ve had the best birthday surprise ever, but you still don’t know how much steve is gonna love having his ass on display for his best friends.

“y/n! stevie! wh- oh fuck, are you kidding me?!”

that’s bucky, sounding traumatized as he sees the two of you stark naked. 

“wh- damn, i didn’t expect you guys to actually be fuckin’.”

sam sounds genuinely shocked but simultaneously looks impressed. you close your eyes in amused mortification because steve’s body is shielding yours entirely and now, sam and bucky have a full view of his pale backside.

“guys,” he groans, blood rushing to his cheeks. 

a flash goes off and steve cries out in protest. you laugh in disbelief, staring at bucky holding his phone up with a grin.

“happy birthday, y/n.”

[kyuuppi]

Fruit Salad (NSFW)

Pairing: Orihara Izaya x Reader ( ♀ )

Genre: SMUT, a lot of subtle fluff cause Izaya is my husbando and I love him

⚠️WARNING⚠️ Oh boy... food play, object insertion, light dirty talk, maybe some degradation?, kitchen sex, fingering, really messy oral, light nipple play, biting, spit play, slightly insecure reader, unfortunately Izaya does not get nakey :(

WC: 4.4k 

Izaya hums to himself as he moves around the room with purpose, seeming to have already mentally planned at least ten steps ahead of each action he takes--the antithesis to your own frazzled, jerky movements as your flit between various cardboard boxes, unable to recall the contents of a single one without reading the haphazard black sharpie words etched on the sides. You feel frustration well within you as you realize you are not even halfway done with unpacking the bedroom after nearly two hours.

‘Why the hell do I have so many clothes when I wear the same three sweatshirts every week!’

Glancing over at Izaya’s side of the room you can’t help but feel envious at his few, neatly organized boxes he seems to instinctively know the contents of. All of his clothing seems to fit in a single large box, the bulk of his belongings being various computer hardware and other communication devices that he handles with care.

As per usual, he seems to have a sixth sense for knowing exactly what you’re thinking and his head lifts from the short stack of books in his hands to meet your annoyed gaze with a taunting grin.

“It’s rude to stare, y’know.”

You tear your eyes away from his form with a scoff, a self of hopelessness coming over your form when your eyes land on yet another box mockingly labelled “clothes.” Three months ago, when Izaya had suggested the two of you move in together as your lease at your previous place was coming to an end, you had been ecstatic, to say the least. In the midst of your twenties it is easy to compare yourself to others you deemed more successful and established and you were starting to feel your minimum wage job and shabby apartment complex, filled with mostly rowdy college freshmen with a few grumpy elderly cat ladies sprinkled in, was holding you back. Moving into a fancy new apartment you could never even dream of affording by yourself and with your handsome boyfriend of two years no less--now that is how succeeding in life really looks, right? You were excited to open a new chapter of your life but now, as you stand in the middle of an unfamiliar living room with at least thirty boxes scattered around and the beginnings of hunger pains settling in the pits of your stomach from skipping breakfast, you aren’t so sure.

The beginnings of your internal self-pity rants are interrupted by the familiar childish lilt of Izaya’s voice as he approaches one of the larger boxes by your side.

“My, my...it seems my favorite little human needs some help,” he teases, easily cutting through the messy layers of packing tape with one of his numerous pocket knives he seems to always have.

In the corner of your eye you recognize one of the colorful lumps that springs from the opened box as a childhood Gudetama plush you had all but forgotten you owned. It likely lived most of the past four years in the back corner of your closet, to be honest.

Izaya’s offer immediately relieves some of the pressure from your shoulders and you find yourself growing warm at his display of genuine kindness. At times like these it is difficult to imagine Izaya as the sadistic monster most of Ikebukuro makes him out to be--

“I wonder if I’ll find something naughty in one of these boxes~”

Nevermind. He is definitely a monster.

You use all of your strength to jab his arm in retaliation, your face feeling hot as you sputter out that you don’t have any “naughty” belongings, thank you very much! He only laughs manically, completely unfazed by your physical attack as he makes his way to your new shared bedroom to put your unnecessarily large collection of plushies away.

Having some of your burdens removed you feel much more clear headed and decide to get started on putting the dishes away so the two of you could at least have silverware for the takeout you’ll inevitably be ordering soon. Having spent a great deal of time in a few of Izaya’s apartments over the past few years, you already have an idea of where he keeps certain things and you try to make a conscious effort to satisfy the both of you with locations you think make the most sense. Pretty soon, the repetitive actions of putting forks in draws and plates in cupboards becomes second nature and you find yourself zoning out as you work, oblivious to Izaya’s own labors in the other room until his voice once again breaks the relative silence of the apartment.

“What’s in this box?” Izaya asks innocently as he approaches the kitchen you’re in.

You turn your head to look at what he is referring to, unsurprised to find him already peering inside the flaps of the bright pink box he had just opened. It would be more surprising to you if he hadn’t opened the box. As an information broker and a naturally curious person in general, Izaya has a habit of checking things himself rather than waiting for someone to tell him what he wants to hear. You suppose in his field he is used to people attempting to lie to protect themselves anyway but the first few months of having your boyfriend casually invading every aspect of your privacy were overwhelming, to say the least. Rather than reaching a compromise (Izaya didn’t exactly do compromises), you grew used to it and no longer felt scandalized if you saw him shamelessly scrolling through your cell phone you had just changed the pass code to or bringing up a topic you had only talked about once before with a close friend. His actions had good intentions behind them...usually.

You recognize the pink box immediately and can’t help but to smile fondly at the memory.

“Ah, my mom dropped that off when she came to visit a few weeks ago. She said it's a housewarming gift. I haven’t gotten around to opening it though,” you answer, watching as he pulls out a few items and placing them on the breakfast bar between you two.

The first few objects are what you would expect, a few overpriced scented candles and a plush blanket in your favorite color. It is one of the last few items Izaya pulls out that has your mouth falling slack with shock and his own expression morphing from confusion to pure glee. Dangled from his right hand is an atrociously bright colored pack of small, uniform circles surrounded by clear plastic squares adorning matching colored cartoon fruits drawn on each.

Condoms...fruit flavored condoms.

You silently pray the group will just open up and swallow you whole as Izaya carelessly tosses the box to the side to turn all of his attention on the pack in his hands, excitedly assessing each of the options. While of course you are no stranger to sex, Izaya had a healthy libido afterall, it was generally a small, undisclosed part of your relationship together. When the moment struck it would happen, generally very vanilla with the occasional teasing remarks or dirty talk via Izaya, but afterwards neither of you ever talked about it or brought it up. But...now that you two would be living together...would it happen more often? Your cheeks instantly heat up in mortification at where your own perverted train of thought was rapidly heading.

“Which do you think we should try first, y/n-chan?” your boyfriend casually asks, eying the bright yellow pineapple flavor.

You nearly choke on your own spit.

“Wh-wha...Izaya, we need to get back to unpacking! P-put those away already,” you stutter out, stepping forward in an attempt to grab the pack from his hands, missing when he easily side-steps you and instead grabs your arm to pull you closer to his warm body. Your brain nearly short circuits when he leans forward to your left ear, hot breath leaving goosebumps along your neck as he murmurs.

“It’s important to take breaks, y’know,” he suggests calmly, like a doctor placating a panicked patient.

It works infuriatingly well and you find your whole body feeling like gelatin as you subconsciously relax in his hold.

“You like strawberries, right, y/n-chan~?”

You nod dumbly, thoughts too scattered to even think about what he’s really asking when his soft lips are just barely brushing the tip of your ear before his teeth offer a little nip that has your whole body shuddering. You’re brought back to your senses when you feel the arms he had snaked around your waist contract and pull up, gently placing you on top of the kitchen island.

“W-wait, we should go to the bedroom.”

Izaya seems unperturbed, fiddling with something behind you as his lips leave a trail of searing kisses along your neck. He doesn’t make a move to acknowledge your suggestion until you place your hands on his shoulders and attempt to push him off of you, at which he naturally doesn’t budge a single centimeter.

“Hmm? I’m in the kitchen because I’m going to eat something--I don’t see the problem.”

Something in the pit of your stomach flutters at the implication and you can’t find it in yourself to argue further. He disconnects from your neck and takes a step back only to tug at the bottom of your top. You raise your arms obediently, the action almost instinctive at this point, and he pulls your shirt off of your body, wasting no time removing your bra immediately afterwards. You immediately shiver at the sudden cold and would have moved your arms in front of your chest in embarrassment at how the brightly lit kitchen in midday leaves you feeling more exposed than usual but Izaya moves quickly and his lips are already back on your neck before you can ever react. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed a bowl of fruits next to you that you didn’t remember being there before. You think nothing of it and let your eyes flutter closed when Izaya’s lips finally find your right nipple, sucking the nub into his hot mouth without hesitation, making your spine tingle. Your hands move up to clutch his dark locks, desperate for something to keep you grounded but the action only spurs him on further and he lets out a soft groan as he swirls his tongue around before scrapping the sensitive flesh with his teeth. You yelp when he sucks harshly, back arching away only for his hands to keep your firmly in place. He pulls back, releasing the nipple with a small pop before he moves his attention to it’s twin. You feel lightheaded with the contrast of cold air nipping at the rapidly cooling saliva on your right nipple while the left one is subjected to the blazing heat of Izaya’s mouth.

His right hand remains secured on the small of your back while the left first around to tease the nipple not in his mouth, mimicking the actions of his tongue with his fingers as he rolls the hardened bud in tight circles before pinching which his teeth nip. Your thighs rub together as you feel wetness pool in your underwear and you briefly wonder if it's possible to reach an orgasm with nipple stimulation alone.

Before you can find out firsthand, Izaya releases both of your nipples and pulls back. You can’t help the small whine that escapes your lips at the loss when both nipples now feel cold and achy. He giggles at that, the gleam in his vermillion eyes seeming dangerous.

“Don’t worry, princess, Izaya-sama will take good care of you~” he childishly promises, a stark contrast to the nimble fingers now unbuttoning your shorts before gently pushing your shoulder back until you lay flat on the marble counter. The surface is cold and hard, uncomfortable on your back, but the heat between your legs takes priority over all other discomforts. You waste no time lifting your hips so he can slide the fabric of your shorts and panties down your legs at once, all usual inhibitions seemingly lost when your head feels so fuzzy.

Izaya’s large hands firmly plant themselves on each of your knees and spread them apart slowly, like he’s opening his own personal Christmas present, until your heels are pressed into the edge of the counter. You can feel the cold air on your folds and know you must be absolutely soaked but you can’t resist chancing a glance up at Izaya’s expression.

Big mistake.

You can see the hunger in his eyes as his gaze is glued to the space between your thighs, licking his own lips in anticipation. Your core clenches at the sight and you feel more slick leaking out of your hole. His eyes follow the movement before he glances up at your flushed face and offers a knowing smirk. You think your soul just left your body.

His left hand slides down from your knee to your inner thigh, thumb resting right at the junction between your leg and pelvis right his right hand moves directly to your folds, two fingers gliding easily along the slick lips before reaching your clit, causing your whole body to jerk at the light contact.

He rubs circles around your clit through the hood until whines and soft moans are spilling your lips, his other hand teasing your folds with just his thumb. All movement stops abruptly and he pulls his hands away but before you can even mourn the loss of stimulation, his thumbs are hooked into each side of your folds and pulling your cunt open before he’s ducking his head down and swiping his tongue along the wetness. The moan that leaves your throat sounds nearly pornographic but you find it difficult to care when the tip of his wet tongue moves up to flick at your clit a few times before sliding back down and circling your small hole.

Izaya is neat and organized in all other aspects of his life but every time he eats your pussy it’s absolutely messy. Rather than lapping up your wetness he drools around his own tongue, making it ever wetter until every movement releases obscene clicks and sloshing sounds. He pulls back only a few centimeters, retracting his tongue back into his mouth for a second. You watch with morbid fascination as he collects the saliva in his mouth only to purse his lips over your pussy and let the liquid slowly drip down directly into your twitching hole. It feels dirty, it is dirty, but you can’t deny the flutter in your gut and the way your core absolutely pulses in pleasure as you audibly whimper. He keeps you spread open as his tongue delves back in, thrusting in and out of you before returning to your engorged clit. His right hand releases its hold only to push his middle finger inside of you, an easy glide with excess liquids dripping down to the counter by now. With each inwards thrust his finger curls upwards, stabbing a part of your fleshy insides that make your vision bloom until the kitchen lights above you are starbursts and everything is swimming.

The next time he pulls his middle finger out he presses his ring finger beside it and both are pressing into you, providing the slight sting of a stretch that has you keening while your cunt eagerly accepts them. His lips wrap around your clit to harshly suck as his two fingers press into that same spongy part and you’re seeing stars. You feel a familiar pressure in the pits of your belly, building bigger and bigger with each thrust of his fingers and scrape of his teeth against your clit. You’re going to cum soon.

“I-ngh--Izaya,” you whimper out, struggling to form the words you need to express your warning.

It is pointless really, Izaya is already exceptional at reading body language, even more so yours. He only hums in acknowledgement, the vibrations further stimulating your clit and making you press your hips forwards, seeking more as you draw closer and closer to the finish line. Every muscle in your body seems to contract as you feel it coming, tensing up in preparation for the impending release.

That’s when he decides to pull away.

You aren’t sure whether to cry or punch him in the face when you feel your incoming climax completely disappear, leaving your clit still throbbing and your hole empty, hopelessly clenching and unclenching around nothing. Your eyes open to give him the strongest glare you can muster only for him to not even be looking at you, instead fiddling with something you can’t see from your angle. You open your mouth, ready to curse him out until the words die in your throat as you watch him bring the fingers of high right hand that were just inside of you to his own mouth, casually licking them clean. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“Hmm...ah, this one is perfect.”

Your brows furrow in confusion as he seems to make up his mind about something. You move to sit up but he’s already back between your legs, grinning down at you as if he hadn’t just robbed you of an orgasm.

His left thumb slides back to your clit, making you shudder as a flame seems to rekindle inside of you. He wastes no time to set a fast pace rubbing your clit, quickly bringing you back close to where you were before but not quite. Then you feel something blunt pressed against your whole, much larger than any of his fingers. For a moment you think it might be his cock but you don’t recall seeing him unbuckle his pants at any point and the cool temperature is nothing like his familiar heat.

The object is circled around your hole and you notice it feels really smooth...like latex.

“Wh-what is that,” you ask nervously. The two of you haven't used toys before and you don’t recall him ever mentioning owning any.

His grin widens, seeming amused by your apprehension.

“You wanted to try strawberry, right? Well, I prefer bananas so why not both.”

You scramble to sit up and nearly have a heart attack when you see the curved yellow object wrapped in neon pink pressed against your pussy.

“Izaya, th-thats…!”

“Strawberry and banana--its like a smoothie~,” he explains proudly.

A sudden pinch on your clit has your arms faltering and makes you fall back, yelping as your back reconnects with the marble.

“Now be a good girl, yeah? I need to take care of this poor pussy.”

You choke on your own saliva as he presses the covered tip of the thick fruit into you, slowly stretching your hole open with a sharp sting.

“It’s just begging to be filled,” he croons.

You feel the stretch of each centimeter as he pushes it in but Izaya is relentless and doesn’t let up on the pressure until the tip bumps into your cervix and your muscles are spasming uncontrollably as your mouth opens in a silent scream.

“It’s...big,” you stutter out dumbly, hardly even aware you’re speaking out loud.

Izaya feigns an innocently concerned expression as his left thumb continues to rub circles into your clit.

“Ehh~? Then we’ll have to make sure we stretch you open properly ‘cause my cock is even bigger.”

You instinctively clench as you feel him pulling it out slowly, never fully removing it before he’s pushing it back in. The residual wetness from earlier makes a resounding squelch every time he pushes it back in that has your cheeks burning in shame.

With each thrust the stretch stings less and less, aided by his teasing on your clit never faltering, and instead you feel the familiar pleasure of having something thrusting inside of you, rubbing against your slick walls. The natural curve of the fruit forces the tip to hook into a spot just before your cervix then dragging along the top of your walls as it’s pulled out only to repeat the motion. That same pressure in your lower belly returns but a little stronger and you think if Izaya denies your orgasm this time you might actually die.

Izaya however, does not offer any indications that he plans to do so and instead moves his left hand from your cit to push your right thigh higher, your knee nearly touching your chest, so he has room to lean down use his tongue instead, right hand still continuing to fuck the banana into you, gradually quickening his pace until it feels punishing and its almost too much. The battering of the tip against your cervix has your body trying to pull away but Izaya’s hand keeps you firmly in place, forcing you to accept whatever he gives you.

It’s when he uses his teeth to lightly nibble on your bud while simultaneously shifting the angle of fruit that your climax rips through your body, setting every nerve ending in your body on fire and rendering your eyes useless as white blinds your vision. Your mouth is open and sounds are coming out but you yourself can’t even process what you’re saying. Izaya continues his assault with vigor, making you ride out your orgasm to its fullest before the come down has you too sensitive and using what little remains of your strength to kick him away and attempt to close your legs.

You hardly have the strength to deny him of anything on a good day, let alone after an intense orgasm, but he seems to be feeling generous enough to stop when you say it's too much. He pulls his head away from between your thighs and you try to ignore the glistening juices dripping down the corners of his mouth and smeared on his chin as he slowly removes the banana from your fluttering pussy. You feel empty again and you can literally feel your stretched hole gaping, leaving you feeling embarrassed. Izaya dips down suddenly to press a single peck to your clit. You whine softly in over-sensitivity but the unexpectedly sweet gesture makes your chest feel warm.

As you attempt to catch your breath, Izaya moves away again, removing the sticky condom from the fruit and throwing it in the trash bin before placing the equally sticky banana back on the counter next to the fruit bowl. You’re about to make a complaint when he moves back to your side, smirking at your disheveled state and picking you up, one hand behind your back and the other beneath your knees, to carry you to the bedroom.

He places you on the freshly made sheets gingerly, your body immediately sinking into the plush mattress like a puddle. He leaves the room only to return a few seconds later with a plastic bottle of water and a paper pamphlet you recognize as the menu to one of your favorite takeout restaurants. Your brows furrow in confusion as he takes a seat next to you on the bed, silently skimming through the menu, undoubtedly already knowing what both of you will order.

Despite the heaviness in your lids and bonelessness of your body, you sit up to question the man.

“Izaya?”

His eyes shift over to you in question, his expression dangerously mischievous yet unreadable as usual.

“Aren’t you...don’t you need to, like...get off?” you cringe at how awkward and undeniably unsexy your words sound and you can see the mirth in his gaze but he decides to spare you the teasing for now.

“Aww, my little human is so eager to please her god~” he lilts.

You roll your eyes in response before squealing when he pulls you into his arms, forcing you both to lie back down on the bed, entangled in his arms while he teasing blows a puff of air in your left ear just to watch you squirm as you try to get away.

“Don’t worry, y/n-chan, I’m satisfied just watching you.”

Your chest swells and your annoyed expression melts into a small smile at the implication that he cared more about your own pleasure and exhaustion than his own needs--

“I never would have thought you’d enjoy getting fucked by a fruit so much~! Next time should we try a cucumber?”

You have zero regrets when you punch him in the chest.