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angryschnauzer · 4 years ago

Text

Distraction

Summary: As a junior CIA agent you are added to a mission to help with scientific analysis, but when half the team are hospitalised you have to suddenly become a hands on field agent, alongside August Walker and Will Shaw. When the final part of the mission at a tropical plant glass house has an unexpected side affect, you have to work as a team to survive the night.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader x Will Shaw Fandoms: Mission Impossible: Fallout (Movie), The Cold Light of Day (Movie), Henry Cavill - Actor.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Sex Pollen, Threesome, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Sex, Blowjob, Cum Play, Double Penetration, Anal Sex.

A/N: This is my first time writing the Sex Pollen trope, so i hope you like it. Fic is unbeta’d; only the finest free range organic typos for me. I do not run a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, you will then get an alert when i post something new.

Back catalogue can be found on AO3 Link Here, or you can follow my facebook page HERE.

Distraction

If there had been someone narrating a movie of this mission, the first line would have been ‘it was a simple mission’. However, they would have been lying. The mission was far from simple, it was convoluted, complicated, and the team fucking hated each other.

The team were scheduled to arrive via two flights, from opposite directions of the globe as not to arouse suspicions that a large team would do if anyone was picked up on facial recognition. You had been brought on board because of your scientific and tech background, and as the team were tasked with retrieving the formula for the most dangerous biological weapon in the world, you were the one that would check they had the right thumb drive before the mission was able to be called a success. There would be multiple extraction points, numerous undercover assignments that would all lead to the final extraction at the gala dinner.

That was the plan. What actually happened was the half of the team coming in from Dallas ended up with severe food poisoning and were currently being hospitalised in a local treatment facility. That left just your half of the team, and the senior agent now in charge was none too happy about it;

“I’ve got a fucking chemistry nerd and a number cruncher for a hands on mission that requires multiple scenes where infiltration and distraction are needed, and neither of you have any fucking field work!”

August Walker hated everyone and made sure he did everything he could so that everyone hated him in return. The other member of the team quietly ground his teeth, Walker never once let him forget that he came into this agency completely by accident following a rogue faction and a situation that started with the death of his CIA Agent father, and resulted in smashing up half of Madrid’s traffic in a 24 hour long series of car chases;

“I was a stockbroker, and i didn’t hear anyone complaining when i discovered the currency discrepancies that found us the targets insider trading”

Will Shaw was so similar yet so different to Walker it was startling, you even thought they looked similar enough to be long lost brothers, but never dared to mention it.

The hotel suite had all the facilities you needed to set up a small command post, with enough counter space to set up the laptops and work-stations, whilst not getting under each other's feet. However it was still small enough for the two men to continually bicker and make snide remarks at each other, and you had to push the earpiece of your surveillance equipment closer to your ear to hear, finally you heard what you needed to, holding your hand up and clicking your fingers at the two men who immediately silenced and crossed the room;

“They’re going to be at the MMA Gym in thirty minutes”

“Okay” Walker huffed; “We need to extract the codes from his device that will give us access for the holding location. You and Shaw take the gym and cause the distraction, i’ll get the codes”

Will shook his head;

“Not gonna work”

“It's not?” you were surprised

“The gym is men only, the only women are administration and janitorial”

“That’s fucking antiquated” August spat out in disgust.

You had to hide the smirk that tugged at the corner of your mouth, that August Walker of all people would be an advocate for equal rights, but nonetheless started to prepare for the first distraction.

Walker and Shaw had entered the building separately but within 5 minutes of each other, signing in under false names and keeping it simple and silent as they started training on the weights and cardio machines in the gym. You had already entered through the basement deliveries door which you’d been able to pick the lock of, finding a staff uniform t-shirt in the storeroom and pulling it on over your top. You could hear both men through their hidden comms, and within a couple of minutes pretending to sort out a cleaning kart that you knew the morning crew had finished with, you heard the code word that the target had entered the weights room.

Seconds later you were tentatively pushing the door to the locker room open, calling out;

“Housekeeping!”

You had no idea if they called themselves housekeeping or janitorial staff or whatever, but when you didn’t get a reply you quickly entered the room and did what needed to be done.

Through your ear piece you could hear the first stage of the distraction starting, with your two fellow agents starting to challenge the other to out lift each other, and from the muffled background noise you could tell that they were drawing a crowd of onlookers.

Tapping your comms you alerted Walker and Shaw that you’d been successful, and that it was time for them to leave. But as you got no response you quickly made your way out of the locker room through the other exit, only to find yourself in a glass walled corridor, the gym on the other side of the glass. What surprised you however was that there was now a huge crowd of spectators as they watched your two agents try to pull out more reps on the bicep curl machine. Scowling you grabbed a cloth and bottle of spray cleaner and squirted the glass, glaring at the two of them before they finally saw you;

“Its time to go, dumbasses. Finish the contest. I’ll be in the car in the street behind the building”

Pushing through the door of the hotel suite you scrunched your nose as Will pushed past you, August not far behind;

“You two need a shower… did you really need to get that sweaty?”

“Well… you wanted the distraction to look convincing, didn’t you?” Will shot back, stripping his t-shirt off, already halfway to the bathroom.

A quiet cough behind you drew your attention away from Will’s sculpted back muscles;

“When you’re done staring at Shaw…”

“I...I wasn’t stare…”

“Whatever sweetheart, either way; you two need to change”

Looking down at your outfit you pulled at the gym t-shirt;

“Yeah, i can just find a utility shirt or something…”

“No, you’re front of house with me. Will’s taking the extraction of the thumb drive”

“But...I didn’t bring an outfit…”

August nodded to a pile of bags in the corner of the room from the agents that hadn’t made it to the mission but their luggage had;

“So check Marianne’s, she is about the same size as you. Either way its you and me sweetheart, now get dolled up, you can’t go to a gala looking like that”

Twenty minutes later you took a deep breath; you’d found Marianne’s bag and had found that although she was a similar size to you, it was one size smaller. She also had a completely different taste and style to makeup and you were now way out of your comfort zone. The red lipstick however seemed to work, a touch of gold bronzing powder across your shoulders and chest made the red silk dress really work for you. Adjusting the straps so they sat over the top of your bra, the pretty floral pattern hopefully not too noticeably jarring against the sultry silk. Taking a deep breath you stepped out of the small dressing room and came face to face with Will;

“Oh hey” he looked you up and down before clearing his throat; “Looks good”

“Yeah?” you smoothed the dress down over your stomach

“I mean… the bra kinda takes away from the look… but yeah, it looks really good”

“I...I didn’t have anything suitable for a gala, this is Marianne’s… from her bag…”

Will stood in front of you, reaching his hand around your back and with a quick snap of his fingers he’d unfastened your bra;

“It really will look better without the bra… trust me…”

Without another word he turned and crossed the room, pulling his tie from his bag, fastening it as August emerged from the other room;

“Agent. Bra off, now”

Shimmying the offending garment down your arms you pulled it out of your dress as he crossed the room;

“I don’t see why…”

“Because the people at this gala have got so much money they flaunt what they’ve got. You’ve got to fit in” He held his finger out and you hooked it over the protruding digit.

“We’d better get going… the gala is about to start”

With a nod August grabbed the keys to the BMW you’d been assigned and tossed them to Will; he was taking on the role of Driver and Bodyguard to your’s and August’s ‘couple’, the three of you filed out of the room and into the elevator.

The ride down the highrise hotel was slow, and you could feel both men’s eyes on you as they stood behind you, before the doors finally opened to the basement parking. You struggled to keep up with them as they strode out with their long legs, the heels of your stiletto sandals clicking on the cement. Finally as you reached the car you were surprised as August opened the door for you, not uttering a word as he watched you climb in before he rounded the car and slid into the back seat beside you.

You’d barely had time to fasten your seatbelt before Will was peeling out of the hotel parking with a squeal of tyres and you were heading to your destination.

“Panties, off” August’s words surprised you

“W-WHAT?!”

“Panties. Take them off”

“Agent Walker…”

“They dig into the meat of your hips and take the attention away from the sexiness of the dress. You need to fit in tonight”

“B-b-but…” you attempted to stall, but without another word August pulled your knees towards him and slid his hands beneath your dress. He grasped the thin elastic straps that ran over your hips and pulled hard, snapping the fragile pieces of fabric and pulling the now ruined undergarments. Glancing at Will he had a brief smirk on his face but quickly looked away, concentrating on the road ahead.

The gala was amazing, and it was hard not to get absorbed into the evening as if you were a real guest. You could hear everything through the hidden comms units in your ears, and apart from the occasional grunt as Will silently passed the guards as he made his way further into the underground chambers that ran below the massive glasshouse the gala was in, it seemed to all be going exactly to plan. The host had announced for everyone to celebrate, and you had found yourselves being swept onto the dancefloor, and suddenly you were in August’s arms as he held you close, the music thankfully loud enough to drown out your conversation from the ears of others;

“Do you think he’s getting on ok?”

“He’d say if he wasn’t” August assured you as he moved in time to the music, his hand on your lower back pulling you closer to his body. At that very moment you both heard a guttural cry through the comms, your eyes wide in panic as he grabbed your hand and you quickly made your way through the crowd;

“Shaw, come in… are you ok?”

You heard gurgling on the comms and watched as August pulled out his phone and activated the trackers that you all wore, the two of you coming up together on screen, but the third - Will’s - showing as on the level below and not moving.

The stairs had been hell in your heels, eventually you’d kicked them off and had run barefoot behind August, chasing him around corners and along corridors, before he’d finally come to a halt in front of a sealed door, his phone showing that Will was in the room behind it.

“Stand back”

You took a couple of steps back and watched as August kicked the door, the deafening bang as it broke from its hinges and splintered in was immediately forgotten as a sudden rush of air came out of the room, covering him in a dusting of strange grey-pinkish powder. He fell to the floor coughing and you rushed to his side;

“Check on Shaw! I’m fine!”

Quickly entering the room you looked around, finally seeing Will laying on the floor, he too was covered in the powder. Kneeling at his side you checked his pulse, relieved to find one as he opened his eyes and groaned.

“What happened? Are you ok?”

“Stop fussing, i’m fine… we gotta get out of here. Security will be on their way…”

At that moment August appeared at your side;

“Did you get it?”

“Yeah, i got it”

Will held out the thumb drive and pushed it into your hand as August pulled him to his feet, and they attempted to dust themselves off as the three of you staggered down the hallway and out of the fire exit.

Pushing into the hotel room, both Will and August had already shed the majority of their clothing, now dressed in just their smart dress pants and under shirts, still coughing from the dust cloud that lingered in their airways. You’d run the briefest of tests with the tiny blood monitor that you’d kept in the car to ensure it wasn’t a known nerve agent or poison before you’d even left the extraction point, thankfully the results being negative, but both men needed to wash off whatever it was as soon as possible. But first, you needed a proper sample;

“Agent Shaw, i need to take some blood, hair and saliva, run it through the test software, to see if whatever it was has synthesised into your bloodstream” you nodded to the small scientific station you’d set up at the end of the table, the case having contained tiny gadgets that amounted to a microscope, a mass spectrometer, and other testing equipment… the whole point of why you in particular had been placed on this mission.

A minute later you’d collected the samples, trying hard not to get flustered as Will had stood in front of you bare chested and in just his underwear, heat radiating from his body;

“So what do you think it is?”

“I have no idea”

“Well i’m burning up, i need to take a shower”

Quickly loading the samples into the rapid mass spectrometer you turned to Agent Walker to check his vitals and let out a tiny squeak of surprise when you saw him sitting on the edge of the bed in just his underwear. His chest was flushed and he had a sheen of sweat over his entire body;

“I guess i’m next?”

Pressing your hand to his forehead you could feel he was burning up;

“I’m going to check your temperature first”

Quickly using the thermal reader you could see that his core temp was heading towards fever;

“I’m going to take the samples then as soon as Will is out of the shower you need to get in there”

“Yes Ma’am” he chuckled, closing his eyes as you pushed your fingers through his hair to pluck a sample strand. The powder had caught in the strands and it was only as you combed your fingers through the dark locks did you realise he had soft curls. As you tried to separate them he let out a groan as you stroked his scalp. He swayed a little even though he was sitting down, and before you could do anything his hands were on your hips to steady himself, the heat almost searing through the silk of your dress.

Finally having got all the samples you needed you reluctantly pulled away, not saying a word as he simply flopped back onto the bed with a smirk on his face. You busied yourself preparing the test samples from Agent Walker, the machine finishing with Shaw’s. You were vaguely aware of the shower being turned off and the men moving around the room, before the shower was on again and you presumed it was August in there.

Peering at the saliva samples through the microscope you frowned, the particles present completely organic and very familiar.

“So what is the diagnosis Doc?”

Will’s voice surprised you, and as you jumped and turned your eyes went wide when you saw he was in just a towel, tied low on his waist as he drank from a bottle of water.

“Y-You don’t want to put some clothes on?”

He looked down at himself, almost surprised to find he was only wearing a towel and shrugged;

“No point, the way i’m burning up i’ll be naked soon” he nodded to the screen; “So?”

Turning your attention back to the screen you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry;

“Well… it seems organic, spores of some kind. Its hard to tell what they are from, but their chemical make-up is unique. The only time i’ve seen anything similar is in isolated microclimates that are cut off from the rest of nature… there was this one… in a volcano… a pollen from a plant that grew in tropical climates…” you trailed off as you sensed another presence now flanking your other side, glancing away from the microscope, taking in the sight of August in an identical outfit to Will, his broad expanse of chest at eye level as he bent down to look into the microscope.

“Hmmn… so, how’s it gonna affect us? The gala was in a fucking giant greenhouse; you saw the plants they were growing there, some of them were 20ft tall and looked like they’d come from another planet. Do we need to pop an antihistamine or something, what’s it gonna do?”

Standing you quickly slid out from between the two barely dressed men, checking the mass spectrometer and frowning;

“It seems to be elevating your testosterone levels…” you peered at the saliva results; “...and pheromones… your bodies are heating up where your body is fighting against the pollen, its affecting all your hormones...”

“Pheromones…” Will mused; “... that’s the sex hormones, right?”

“Urrr…” you faltered, looking up at the two men who were now looking at you like hungry wolves.

August stepped closer;

“Sweetheart, i think you’d better get yourself tested too…” he paused, his finger hooking beneath the thin strap of your dress, making you acutely aware you were completely naked beneath it; “... cos’ i could smell you from across the room… and you smell so sweet right now…”

You went to take a step back, only to bump into the hard expanse of Will’s naked chest, his hand curling around your arm;

“C’mon, lets get you tested…”

You were suddenly putty in their hands, your head swimming and it was only then that you realised you were burning up. It felt like you had a core of lava within you, and the only thing you could liken it to was a hot flash, your body flushed with heat. You recalled the time you’d overheard a much older agent talking to her friends, unaware you had been in the room and she’d spilled the beans on how she would recover from an episode and calm her hormones down... with the help of her husband.

As your head had been swirling, Will had taken your blood sample and had loaded it into the mass spectrometer, having watched as you’d shown him before the mission. But you could barely concentrate;

“I...I know how to counteract the affects of the pollen…” you panted out, unsteady on your feet as you swayed and August caught you in his arms

“Oh yes?”

“En… Endorphins… they counteract… they burn off the pheromones…”

You felt hot breath on the back of your neck as Will pressed against you;

“I’m not a scientist, but i know how to create endorphins…”

His lips made contact with your neck and you turned to jelly, your head resting against his shoulder and your eyelids drooping, barely open, yet you had enough of your senses to be aware of August in front of you, pulling the straps of your dress down your arms, you pliable in his hands as he stripped you of your only remaining garment, pressing his lips to your over heated skin as went as the silk pooled at your feet;

“So beautiful…”

“Absolutely” Will agreed from behind, his lips grazing over your jawline as his arms reached around you and cupped your tender breasts; “We need to work as a team to get through this… what are the hazards of hot flashes then Doc?”

“Y-Y-You can over heat your brain… your heart could give out…”

“Uh-huh… and endorphins will help stop this?” August enquired, his breath hot on your naked chest

“Y-yeah…”

That was the last word spoken for a very long time. From that point on the only sounds in the room were hums of pleasure combined with the carnal soundtrack of three bodies moving towards the inevitable. By the time you got to the bed both men had lost their towels, hard naked bodies pressed against your soft curves, sculpted hard muscle available everywhere you touched, and oh did you touch… and caress and stroke, the second you’d reciprocated their affections they had softened to your touch, sighs of pleasure as your fingertips gave them just the slightest relief.

You found yourself sandwiched between the two men on the soft covers of the king-size bed, each taking turns to capture your lips for searing kisses, each having their own unique talent and style with their tongues. When you were deep in August’s embrace you felt Will move down the bed, his hands pulling your legs apart before he pressed kisses up your inner thighs and his mouth made contact with your soaked folds. The cry of pleasure that erupted from your mouth broke the kiss, yet August didn’t seem to mind as your hand had found its way to being wrapped around his weeping shaft, tugging him sloppily as you struggled to concentrate;

“That’s it Sweetheart, you don’t need to be gentle… i like it rough…”

You tried to answer, but Will’s tongue had found your soaked entrance as his hand curled around your thigh and sought out your clit, the pleasure he was giving you was too intense to allow you to form coherent words. August claimed your lips again for another searing kiss, humming his appreciation as you worked your hand over his heated flesh.

Before you knew it you were coming hard, your orgasm tearing through your body as you ground your core against Will’s face, his eyes sparkling from between your thighs, and as you were floating on the high of the afterglow you could feel the two men moving you, adjusting you to suit their needs.

On all fours on the bed you were faced with August’s dick, opening your mouth instinctively to take him deep, the heavy weight on your tongue a welcome feeling. Saliva spilled from the corners of your mouth as you struggled to stretch around his girth. At the same time you felt Will’s powerful thighs pressing against the back of your own, the velvet touch of his bulbous crown pressing to your still trembling hole before with a grunt he thrust into your soft body.

There were only grunts and gasps of pleasure, the two men rocking your body between them as they defiled you in the basest of ways, but that you were eager to participate in, the mixing of pheromones in the room removing your inhibitions, knowing that it was an act of survival. You could feel your body climbing again, your orgasm imminent. You felt the first salty tang of August’s seed on your tongue, the tensing of his muscles as his body prepared to release into the welcome warmth of your mouth. His massive hand cupped your chin and pulled your head up to look him in the eye as he finally reached his peak, grunting curses as he pumped thick ropes over your tongue, raining praise upon you as you swallowed everything he gave you.

August fell back onto the pillows, but before you could let gravity take hold of you too Will wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you upright until you were pressed against his chest, his hips thrusting as he filled you so deliciously from behind. Through lust soaked gaze you watched August watching the pair of you as you fucked in front of him, his eyes travelling down your heated body until he was watching where your bodies were joined, how Will’s thick cock stretched you out so well.

“Get your finger on her clit Shaw, i wanna watch you make her come undone”

Doing as the senior agent instructed, Will snaked a hand down your stomach, rubbing tight firm circles against your sensitive bud as he continued to fill you, until you were shaking, hanging onto the precipice of pleasure and that final flick of his finger was enough to set off another orgasm.

The vice-like grip of your velvet walls was the final trigger for Will, and with a sin filled groan he pushed in one last time and you could feel him spilling deep inside you.

Finally he pulled out, carefully setting you down onto the soft bedcovers. Your eyelids felt heavy, but the burning deep in your body seemed to be sated. You felt the men moving around the bed, a large hand cupping the back of your neck before lifting you from the bed a little;

“Drink…”

Opening your eyes, you watched as August lifted a water bottle to your lips, making sure you gulped down the chilled water before pulling away;

“How… how are you guys feeling?”

He turned and sat on the bed beside you, his finger trailing down your neck and between your breasts, and only then could you see the sheen as his skin glistened with sweat, a droplet running down his abdomen to where his cock stood hard and proud from a thatch of dark curls;

“Not… not quite done yet…”

Gently pushing you back down onto the bed he tossed the empty bottle aside before crawling atop of you, capturing your mouth with his as you felt the nudge of his hardened dick breach your body, his wide expanse of chest pressing you to the bed. He didn’t start out gentle and it only got rougher, ploughing into your body as he sought to relieve the effects of the pollen coursing through his veins like fire, burning within him until all that was left was red hot embers of passion. Your body writhed beneath him, begging for more, eagerly taking whatever he could give.

He hit spots you didn’t know existed, your back arching with pleasure as he filled you, your hardened nipples almost too sensitive from his chest hair roughly rubbing against them, the stimulation almost too much until the levy broke and you came hard, your fingers digging into his back to leave dark welts, the pain his trigger for the final thrust as he pumped you full of his seed.

Finally he rolled off you, laying at your side as your chests heaved, struggling to catch your breath when you felt another hand grasp at your wrist;

“Babe… please… i need you…”

Looking to Will you saw a pained look on his face as he sat partially propped up against the pillows, his chest soaked and his dick standing hard and proud;

“Please…” he begged.

Somehow you found the energy to move, your body still shaking but yet you straddled his lap, pushing his sweat soaked curls from his face;

“It’s going to be ok Will, i’ll take care of you… its ok…”

You sank down onto his waiting body, taking him where August had been only a minute before, the comingled seed lubricating you as this new angle found yet more pleasure points that had remained undiscovered until then. Wills hands moved to your hips, his grip tight as he gritted his teeth and moved you on his lap, rocking you to ride him like a rodeo stallion. Sweat dripped down your body, rivulets running between your breasts as you threw your head back and basked in the flood of pleasure chemicals soaking your brain. The haze of lust clouding time and space as you came to another orgasm, Will filling you with another load of his thick cum, your cries of pleasure finally ebbing away as you collapsed on his heaving chest, his hands stroking your back whilst your bodies stayed joined.

A pair of strong arms lifted you off of Will and set you down on the mattress, August’s dark smile haunting over you as he parted your legs and kissed down your thigh, before with a smirk he bit the soft flesh. It wasn’t enough to break the skin but the pleasure pain receptors in your mind were immediately set off again, and you knew that even if you couldn’t see the mark you’d feel it for days to come. He lifted your legs and parted them, his face at your centre, yet where his tongue ended up you let out a squeak of surprise as he circled your back entrance.

“Oh, OH… August…”

“Mmmnnfff” was all that could be heard as he pushed his tongue at your asshole, his thumb pressing against your clit as he worked you open, your body deceiving you as a fierce orgasm washed over you almost immediately. When he pulled away he had a smug look on his face;

“Thought as much… hold tight…”

He quickly disappeared to the bathroom, before returning with a small bottle in his hand. Pouring some of the liquid contained within on his fingers, he worked the oil over your skin before pushing his thick finger into your ass, eagerly praising you as he worked your body until you were ready.

“Walker… hurry up and fuck her… i’m burning up here, i need another round…” Will gasped out as August moved you.

“C’mere then Shaw, we’re never gonna get this out of our systems if we have to wait to take turns…”

Even through the haze of the pollen Will immediately got what August was saying, the pair of them pulling you from the bed before Will took you into his arms;

“Jump…”

With a surprising amount of strength Will pulled you up, your legs hooked over his forearms as he angled his hips to push his dick back into your cum soaked cunt, letting gravity help as he sank deep. Just as you thought you were about to overbalance a hard chest pressed against your back, August stooping behind you as he took his iron hard dick in hand and sought out purchase on your ass;

“Gonna take this as slow as i can Sweetheart…”

Slow didn’t seem slow enough, and you cursed Newton and the laws of physics as the same forces that had pulled you down onto Will did the same with August, leaving you gasping for air as you were filled in both holes. The boys held you up, in place and still whilst they resisted ravaging your body, fighting against the pollen until they could no longer hold back and they unleashed their raw power upon your body. Fucking you in tandem with the thinnest of walls separating themselves inside you, they defiled your body as you begged for more; harder, deeper, faster. It was never enough.

The night ebbed away into the mists of time, each sex act more depraved than the last, the three of you driving the deadly force of the pollen from your bodies in an endless battle of lust.

The last thing you recalled was the sun rising as the two men stood before your kneeling body, spraying your face and breasts with a final load before sleep finally claimed your sated body.

Bright light streamed in the window and you winced as your head pounded. A deep voice could be heard but you weren’t listening. A warm body beside you shifted and a large warm hand pressed to your aching abdomen, soothing the overworked muscles. A soft pair of lips pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and the lack of moustache told you it was Will that was spooning you.

“C’mon Agents, rise and shine” August barked from the bathroom doorway, packing his things; “Got a flight to catch in two hours, debriefing in twelve”

Closing the file you nodded at your superiors, their approval of a good job done ringing praises in your ears as the debriefing ended, people pushing their chairs out and making small talk as they were dismissed for the weekend and a well deserved rest.

Walking to the elevator you didn’t make eye contact, trying hard not to wince as your thighs rubbed together and you felt the bite that August had given you, wanting to avoid any probing questions. You’d skimmed over a lot in your report, mainly the sex-pollen induced orgy that had taken place, but as the thumb drive with the vital data on had been recovered no-one was concentrating on the part between the retrieval and the debriefing.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened, and absentmindedly you stepped in, looking out of the glass windows as you were only partially aware of just a few other passengers. It was only when you realised you were flanked on both sides did you look up and see that August and Will were either side of you.

With a smirk August handed you a file;

“This wasn’t needed for the debriefing”

You flicked it open and saw that it was the mobile test data from the hotel room;

“Yes, probably for the best” you agreed, your throat dry.

As you held the pages Will pointed to a trio of lines towards the bottom. For a moment you stared at the numbers before you recognised what they meant;

“That’s our results…”

You felt August’s breath hot on your ear as he whispered;

“Look at yours…”

You saw the readings of Will and August’s blood count, of the pheromone saturation… then you saw yours;

“But… but that can’t be right…”

“You know that equipment better than anyone else… when has it ever been wrong?”

The elevator reached the Lobby and everyone filed out, August and Will stopping and nodding to the bar across the street;

“We’ll be catching a drink or two… you’re welcome to join us once you’ve taken in the test data…”

You nodded, speechless, staring at the data in black and white. It couldn’t be wrong; it was never wrong. It was clear as day.

You hadn’t been infected by the pollen.

#august walker x reader #will shaw x reader #august walker fanfic #will shaw fanfic #henry cavill

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ezraspiderwick · 3 years ago

Photo

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Panic Attack

Fandom: His Dark Materials

Characters: Lee Scoresby, Hester

Summary: Set on 2x03 after Mrs, Coulter leaves

Word Count: 621

Warnings: Panic attack, Past child abuse

Also on Ao3: Guns for Hands

MASTERLIST

Lee isn’t sure how much time has passed since Mrs. Coulter left the room. Everything around him seems to be spinning and he holds onto the chains in a fruitless attempt to ground himself. Hester is speaking, but he can’t hear her, it’s like she’s a million miles away. She nuzzles her head against his, she’s trying to get his attention, to bring him out of this state. She started doing this when they were children, but it’s been a while since she had to do it. Lee knows that her worriedness grows with each second that passes but he can’t bring out of this. It’s just too much.

The memories keep coming back to him. He knew that talking about him was a risky move, but it had been the only move he had. The only move that he could think to keep him and Hester safe from Mrs. Coulter. However, now he wasn’t sure it had been the right one. Not when he can’t seem to shake the phantom pain on his leg. Or the image of his father towering over him. He can even hear him and it makes his skin crawl.

Don’t you dare run away. The words play over and over on his head and suddenly there’s not enough air in his lungs and he feels dizzy. He can hear his ragged breath but has no ability to control it. He opens his eyes to find Hester with a worried look on her eyes. Lee knows she’s speaking but no sound makes its way to his ears. He tries to focus on the present, the hard cement floor under him, the feeling of coldness from the shackles, and the memories start to fade away.

“Lee breathe.” Hester presses herself against the crook of his neck. She’s shaking. “We’re not there, he can’t hurt us. Not anymore.” As he takes in the words, he tries to get some air in but the lump in his throat makes it impossible.

“You can do this.” The hare tells him.

Lee tries again, and this time he manages to do so. Even if they’re shaky and shallow breaths, he starts to feel a bit better. He continues breathing, focusing on the feeling of air going to his lungs until he’s eventually able to breathe better. He sits up and takes Hester in his arms, petting her head.

“Thank you.” He says to her.

“I hate how he still has the ability to hurt us,” Hester whispers so low he almost misses it.

“I know.” He wipes away some of the tears in his eyes.

A moment later the door opens, Lee straightens himself up and Hester is quick to leap off the aeronaut’s arms. It’s never a good idea to show fear in this kind of situation. The only way out is staying strong, or at least pretending for as long as possible, until there’s an opportunity to escape. A man enters the room, his wolf daemon behind him. Lee recognizes him as one of the Magisterium soldiers who were part of his arrest. In fact, he was the one who shouted orders and was responsible for his swollen eye.

“Well Mr. Scoresby I hope you had some fun with Mrs. Coulter, I’ve been told she can be quite something. Now, where were we?” He crouches in front of Lee and places his hand on his shoulder as if he was an old friend. Lee holds his breath as the soldier squeezes and he knows that if there wasn’t a bruise there already, one would be quick to form. “Right,” the soldier continues “you were going to tell me what you were doing at my good friend, Doctor Haley’s place.”

NEXT CHAPTER

#lee scoresby #hdm #his dark materials #bad things happen bingo #bee castle writing #will try to complete all of these in a multi-chapter fic #we'll see how it goes #if you want me to tag you for updates on this let me know!

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rhetorical-ink · 4 years ago

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Haikyuu!! SPOILERS: Chapter 401, How We Connect the Dots.

**PENULTIMATE SPOILERS BELOW**

I just posted a video with my live reactions to the chapter, but here are my highlights, because FURUDATE YOU MADMAN GENIUS. This chapter connected so much together. So, let’s do:

My Top 10 Thoughts on Haikyuu!! Chapter 401:

10. Of course. In true Furudate fashion, he has Kageyama block the spike from Hinata, BUT, what Kageyama doesn’t realize is all the training on the beach Shoyo has done to prepare for such a moment. And that heel kick! *swoons* Also, someone reacting to Season 4, Episode 9 of the anime, where Hinata kicks the ball back to himself called this happening all those months ago...Furudate is next level at foreshadowing. Not that we didn’t already know that.

9. Hey, remember how in the VERY FIRST chapter of Haikyuu!! Shoyo did this crazy run across the court to score? Yeah, Furudate knows we remember. And he pulls this -- and Kageyama’s beautiful reaction, only for --

-- Only for it to all be a DECOY. Kageyama, you made this monster, you know. I love that Shoyo has come all this way from wanting to score all the points to accepting that the decoy DOES have a vital role to play, and in this instance, it’s allowing Bokuto to score the winning point for the MSBY Black Jackals. Just look at that smile! And of course, Tanaka and Asahi KNOW the power of Hinata as a Decoy...because they’ve been in Bokuto’s shoes before.

8. UGH, the aftermath of that moment is glorious, which will detail down below -- but I love Shoyo and Kageyama’s interaction, though. How they’re still keeping track of each other’s wins and losses, exhausting Miya, hilariously, and showing that they’re on equal footing now, after all these years. This chapter is just cementing the last several chapters’ worth of character development.

7. ARE YOU SHIPPERS READY FOR YOUR FOOD?!

Because these next few pages were healing my shipper heart. I mean, yes, the Kagehina fanbase is raving right now, but let’s talk about THESE ships below, starting with:

Tsukishima x Yamaguchi:

So, Tsukishima, of course, is not sappy about any of this and just points out how the season’s just getting started (ready the fanfics, y’all).

And of course, Yamaguchi wants to watch Tsuki play! Yachi says she’ll come too! I LOVE how just like he was with Akiteru, he doesn’t want them to come watch (even though we all know he’ll love it when they’re there). Now, some people have commented that Yamaguchi could be with Yachi, but y’all...Yachi is in Tokyo. Yamaguchi and Tsuki both live in Miyagi. I can’t wait for all the Sendai Frog/TsukiYama fanfics!

If you’re looking for an extra Kagehina crumble, just look at the end of this adorable exchange between Romero, smol adorable Rubens, and Shoyo (who perfectly crouches down to talk to him MY HEART I CAN’T), to see Kageyama notice that Shoyo can speak multiple languages...oh, honey! If only you know about Hinata and Pedro’s marathons of DBZ in Portugese and English! ^^

Also, Furudate WE SEE YOU. We see you being meta and implying that now Haikyuu!! is over, he’s moving on...Akaashi’s line about going forward hit me hard...it’s like he’s telling us, the fandom, that going on to start something new isn’t so bad. SO YOU SAY.

BOKUAKA NATION -- WE CANON NOW, RIGHT?!

I love that Akaashi gets to interview Bokuto (IS HE GOING TO BE THE STAR of the Volleyball manga Tenma Udai is writing?! He would be PERFECT for it!) and how happy Akaashi looks, even if he and Bokuto realize how differently they view the term “normal.”

ALSO, it’s implied above that Akaashi, Bokuto, and Tenma were going out for drinks...which now....we know that it’s just Bokuto and Akaashi, since Tenma was going home. Uhm, FAN FIC WRITERS ASSEMBLE!

I also love that Udai joins the club, along with Fukurodani’s coach and manager, of people who realize that Bokuto and Akaashi are weirdos but they are weirdos together, so it’s fine.

Keeping the “Ship Train” going, we get little bits of Shimizu x Yachi from the bathhouse before the Inarizaki Match, where Kiyoko finally acknowledges she is okay showing her legs...thanks to Yachi’s words. I also find Suga wanting to know “the tea” on the situation to be adorable.

AND FINALLY, YES, Y’ALL:

I was spoiled with Kuroo’s return, but seriously, Furudate, you saved him for the end here so INTENTIONALLY.

Because OF COURSE Kuroo would work for the JVA. As a promoter. CONNECTING people...with Volleyball...because that’s the Nekoma way.

And FURUDATE ARE YOU SUGGESTING TO US THAT KUROO AND KENMA ARE BUSINESS PARTNERS AND COLLABORATORS BECAUSE MY KUROKEN HEART IS SOARING --

-- and let it be known Atsumu Miya rightfully doesn’t trust Kuroo, and neither does Sakusa. A nice SakuAtsu crumb where we actually see Sakusa agree with Miya without sacrasm or question! Poor Shoyo is a salesman’s dream, though. I mean, Kuroo does look a little sketchy in some of those shots...BUT....

6. Kuroo’s speech about sports was SO fitting. Seriously, everything he says here is BASICALLY what makes Haikyuu!! such a great series. I DID laugh out loud at the line about “hardly anybody dies.”

*Flashbacks to “Dead Daichi” meme*

5. It’s taken us the ENTIRE series, but Kageyama finally talks to Kindaichi and Kunimi. This was so heartwarming, seeing Kageyama wanting to play WITH THEM. AS A TEAM. This made my heart expand three sizes. The character development on Kageyama, and Kindaichi, is through the roof.

I also LOVE Kunimi the most in these panels. Kunimi is a MOOD.

Y’ALL. I’VE WAITED 400 CHAPTERS FOR THIS PANEL OF THESE THREE HAPPY AND BECOMING FRIENDS AGAIN.

4. I love that Hoshiumi doesn’t see Hinata as a Rival, but as someone that is going to help him show the rest of the world the strength of someone who doesn’t have height. I also find it interesting that we see the Japanese Olympic Coach walking out just as Hoshiumi gives us that beautiful gaze. So...does Hoshiumi know he’s going to be on the Olympic team, with Hinata, maybe? Foreshadowing, perhaps?

3. Okay, okay, I held it together until this page.

It wasn’t Ushijima’s panel with Washijo that got me.

It wasn’t Saeko and Akane reuniting, though that was sweet.

It wasn’t the three “Pure Captains” reuniting, though it made my heart happy.

It honestly wasn’t the five first years together, either. They’re all so happy and having a laugh at Kageyama’s expense, and as beautiful as that panel is.

SUGAWARA IN LINE TO GET KAGEYAMA’S AUTOGRAPH.

That is what got me.

Him in line, so meekly, to get the autograph of his kouhai, the man Suga joked would have to tell about how much he learned from HIM when he was giving out interviews and autographs...I just...Sugawara made me cry. That is all.

2. Then there’s this last page. 2021.

"We overcame difficulties and stand here.”

Furudate really said “screw you” to Covid messing up the timeline.

Yes, seeing Kageyama and Hinata in their original jersey numbers was amazing, but I think we all saw that coming if these two happened to get on the Olympic team.

What I want to focus on are the two countries we see included in the bottom corner here. We see:

Brazil -- and some fluffy haired man carrying the flag for the team.

And we see the United States -- there’s several American Flags and stars and stripes on the shirts of the crowd, there.

SO, HEADCANON TIME:

* Oikawa was on the Argentinean League, so could he play for Brazil? It’s not likely, but not impossible....BUT, I don’t think that’s it.

I don’t think Oikawa is on Japan’s National Team for the Olympics.

If he is on the Olympic Team, I think he’ll be on America’s.

Why? Because, and this could be because I’m the biggest IwaOi shipper, but Iwaizumi was still in the United States with Ushijima’s father at the end of Chapter 395. And if he’s still there, there is no reason why Iwaizumi couldn’t be a physical trainer alongside Ushijima’s father for the U.S. Olympic team. And why wouldn’t Oikawa trek over to the States to be on the same team as Iwa-Chan’s working with? I’m probably wrong, BUT --

We also still need to see Seijoh’s banner, and as others have theorized, how fitting would it be to see Hinata, Kageyama, and (probably) Ushijima on the team facing Oikawa? I just....I’m betting money that Oikawa shows up in 402. I hope we at least see him on the Olympic Stage. OIKAWA DESERVES IT.

1. So, who are we missing that hasn’t been shown yet?

We still need to see the rest of Nekoma (Lev, Yaku, Yamamoto, Kai....could they be in the stands or on the Japan team? I guess we’ll find out!)

We haven’t seen Daishou and Mika -- I would love to see them watching or narrating in the audience during the Olympic game.

And finally, yes, we’ve seen Tendo in the Chapter 395 flashback, but we’ve never seen what he’s DOING. Furudate has shown us with every character what they’ve been doing since the timeskip....EXCEPT TENDO. I’m calling it that he’ll appear one more time next chapter, too.

So....guys....I’m staying off of Social Media from Wednesday to Sunday next week, to prep for the last chapter and not be spoiled. I’m going to do a live reaction for YouTube, and I’ll post it here. You can see the one I did for 401 now.

Furudate, this series has been immaculate. Time for one more round.

Let’s all cry together next week.

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kuwurapikaaa · 4 years ago

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Candlelight || Chrollo x Reader

Title: Candlelight Spider Leg!Reader || Plays during York New arc One-shot || Genre: Smut || Angst Pairing: Chrollo x Reader Summary: In the middle of the night, (Y/N) found herself entangled in the web of the spider. Warning: Sexual content, Age Gap Word Count: 3,660 Note: This story is cross-published in AO3 and Tumblr. Yes, my next fanfic would be another Kite fanfic after that, it would be a Jotaro fanfic. I like supplying content for underrated HxH characters. I am currently on a blast right now and I can’t just stop at this point. I am also getting into a new fandom so it is a more of an excuse to my followers who only saw me write hxh fanfics lol

In one hasty night, just like any other night. (Name) was carrying a candle and a stack of antique books to the head of the phantom troupe's room. Putting his books back to his bedroom became somewhat a routine for her. - Today seems like just like any other night.

She just secretly reads his books. Steals five of them, but always, puts them back on their shelves as if nothing happened. As she opened the door, put the books in their respective places, to her surprise, Chrollo was wide awake. The candle's warm light illuminating his handsome face as he held a book with his left hand. His legs were crossed as he sat on a wooden chair. He's probably unable to sleep tonight.

He looks so hot and bothered. - She thought to herself as she bit her lip. She never had many wanton thoughts. It was rare for her to have those. She has been thinking about him since she read that one book that had a character that looked like him. She had been crushing on him since she joined the spiders.

At first, it was simply admiration, but right now, it’s a crush. - Chrollo made her feel like a schoolgirl hiding her feelings in front of a much older and hot guy. It’s like a junior falling in love with a senior trope, yet again.

The vision is something to admire. He looked ethereal at his current stance. His hair wasn't combed back like it did on most days. His ebony hair was a bit messy right now. He also doesn't wear his earrings, which is a surprise. Yet, said view also gave the young woman an eerie feeling about it.

Number nine bit her lip. Trying to make as little noise as possible. She is trying to avoid Chrollo seeing her so late at night. Just as unlucky as she is, the books fell. It was heavy and her arms were tired carrying it from her room downstairs to his room 2 floors higher.

A loud thud was heard as the heavy leather-bound books fell on the cement floor of their base. Chrollo's attention was right at her. He closed his book. Fate is sealed. Fuck. He heard me. - She thought to herself, biting her lip harder. She tried to leave the candle on the floor and picked the book up.

(Name) is an enhancer. A simple person and a horrible liar. At this point, she doesn't know what to say to her leader. She was speechless. As if words were stolen from her mouth. "(Name), you're still awake." He was shocked to see that anyone was still awake at this time of the night.

She looked into her watch. "I know it's already one in the morning. I just came to return your books." She smiled at him. She tried to make an impression on him. Since she is just a new member, it would be stepping over boundaries if she tries to have her usual boisterous speech.

"So you're the one sneaking and reading my books?" He asked as he went near her, she froze. Her body tensing each step he took. She nodded and swallowed thickly. Although she sees nothing is wrong with that, she could be wrong.

"I'm not angry at you, (Name)." He told her with his charming voice. He was looking at her in the eye. She avoids his gaze like it's the plague. But there's no escaping now. He's now against her as her body pressed to the bookshelf. The two lit candles in the opposing sides of the room and the pale moonlight was the only thing that was giving light to the scene.

His arms were around her. She was quite flustered. She never got in scenes like this, ever. It was rather her first time being in something like this. She doesn't know what to do as she is wrapped around the devil's fingers. The man was devising. It's hard to distinguish his genuine affection for his fake one.

Yet here she is, throwing herself into this. She knows what she's going to get, and it's something less than tasteful.

"Don't be ashamed, beautiful." Once he said that (Name)'s blush only deepened. Nobody has gone this close to her. Just by his voice, she can feel something underneath her panties. It was an unfamiliar feeling for her.

"Since you're here, I want you to take care of something." He continued talking. Then he went near her lips and sealed a kiss. His lips were surprisingly soft. She was shocked by his advancements. No one has ever done that to her. Her eyes were wide open. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders as the kiss deepened. She didn't even bother to fight it.

Since day one, she always had feelings about him. He made her feel things she otherwise couldn't feel. Yet, it's a secret she kept for herself. Falling in love with the spider head is the best way to ruin the troupe. "I don't think this is right." She said immediately after the kiss broke.

Still as charming. - Chrollo breathed, his gaze still locked to hers. He can just look at her like this the whole night if something isn't bothering him. Her gaze drifted south and what she saw shocked her. Chrollo's junk seemed bigger. - Not that she's looking at it all the time. She'd be bashful and hesitant if ever caught doing so.

"(Name)... Don't be so shy." He said to her in such a hypnotic voice. His playful hands removed the velcro on the nape of her neck. Her backless shirt was freed. Her silicone bra remained. She ended up being very flustered by his actions. - Speechless in fact.

Chrollo removed the silicone bra right away, he threw them in the ground. Her halter bodysuit remained as it was in her underwear. Her breasts now were out in the open. She was frozen, shivering. With the mixture of the cold air and the shock she is feeling, she couldn't move at all. He tucked her hair on her ears as he went down to her. His beautiful purple eyes were looking at her as his hands were pressed on either of her sides. They were near her bosom. Slowly brushing against them.

It is almost tickling her as it goes higher up into her sensitive nipples. His thumb encircling the area. She was shivering at every touch. With the cold air and his warm touch, it was truly a recipe for disaster. She was having goosebumps.

"Danchou... Please be careful. This is my first time." When (Name) said that his eyes were wide open. He was shocked to hear that a woman like her is currently experiencing her first time. - Secretly, no, openly, Chrollo likes it that his partner is a virgin. It's like he's twistedly religious. He would like to teach and somehow shape them.

"I will." He said with a smirk on his face. He unbuckled his belt and removed his black pants along with his underwear. Her eyes went wide as she saw his huge length right in front of her. It was long, and a bit thick. Probably seven inches long. It was standing and hard.

"Knees down." He ordered (Name). She kneeled to the cold cement. Then, he switched their positions. He was now the one against the hard wooden bookshelf. She had no idea what he was going to do to her. Then, he aligned his cock on her small mouth. She took it eagerly.

Her head was going back and forth as she tried her best to cover his length. It was long and could choke her. She was barely halfway into his shaft. Then, Chrollo all of a sudden, he pulled your head to his cock. Tears were dripping down her face as her eyes widely opened. She gripped her hands on his hips as she continued sucking him.

He was amused by how she was bobbing her head back and forth. Her cherry-colored lips surrounding his long length. He can hear sounds of her choking as she was struggling to get into the end of his shaft. She tried her best to cover the whole area.

His cock was reaching the back of her throat. Her right hand reached for his balls. Stroking it at the same time. - It was unfamiliar territory. He continued growling and gripping onto her hair. It was obvious that she was a virgin. She lacked many facets. In other words, she doesn't have any technique. "Good for someone who did that for the first time." He smirked at the young girl in front of him.

He pulled her off from his cock. Drool connecting her mouth and his length. She was quite flustered, avoiding Chrollo in the eye. Then, as he withdrew, he held her hand and went to the chair he used to sit in. "Come here." He said in such a soothing voice.

As soon as it was said, she followed suit. She was flustered as he could see her naked body properly in this area. Minutes seemed like hours. The only indicator of time was the candles placed everywhere in the room. The white candles slowly melted.

He held her legs as he started kissing her lips again. He stroked her back. She felt a bit ticklish as he started going to her neck. Doing butterfly kisses before finally sucking in the sensitive spot. She gasped and mouth left agape, he marked the area near her flower tattoo. It's sure to bruise up. Just as he was doing that, he was also groping on her sizable bosom.

Then, he pulled her leather pants down along with the rest of her stripe bodysuit. Her slit is now on display. Looking at it, she was rather well-groomed. Her pubic hair was well-trimmed.

She removed her stilettos along with her pants as she threw all those items in the same place as her silicone bra. She was flustered as she was already naked. Her spider tattoo in her left leg was showing. She was number nine. "Keep your shoes." He whispered to her. She wore her shoes again as he continued caressing her legs.

Then, he switched her position. She was now facing the bookshelves again, he continued touching her naked body. Her soft, milky skin. He admired every inch of her.

He tucked her hair on her ear as he gracefully watched over the mark he created. Then, he puts his fingers on his mouth as he begins to insert them on her slick folds. She gasped once more as her wet muscle encapsulated his unfamiliar finger. “This is going to hurt a bit.” He said to her, assuring all the uncomfortable and painful feelings is all normal.

The fingers were unfamiliar, they were colder than the rest of her body. She was shivering from it. As it slowly moved up and down in her slit, an elicit moan escaped her lips. He was rather amused with her. She was more flustered than ever as she spoke, "Danchou… I… I like you." She said shyly. This moment got her feeling like a young schoolgirl confessing her feelings to her crush.

He smiled at her as he heard those words escape from her lips. Her mind right now is all mushed-up. She doesn't even know what she is saying nor thinking at this point. All she knows is that her danchou is making her feel so good right now. As soon as she adjusted with the two fingers he inserted, he added a third. Her cheeks are becoming very hot as he continues.

“Danchou… so this is what it feels like?” She asked him. He responded to her with a short nod.

His fingers still slip up and down making her feel so wet for him. Juices dripping on her legs. She was flustered as he continued his actions, she looked at him, her head turning to the left. His thumb was rubbing on her neglected clit. She bit her lip as she tried to lower her voice. He simply smirked at her as she became a sweaty mess.

Then, out of shock, he pulled his fingers off her slick folds. He made her stand up again as he fully discarded his pants with his dress shoes. She had a better view of him like this. He stood up from the chair as he carried (Name) into the table. She sat on the hardwood as her legs were wrapped around his hips. He kissed her once again in the lips. Then, she removed the last piece of clothing from him. - His dress shirt.

As soon as she removed his dress shirt, she saw it. A mirror near the bookshelves reflected. #0. The legends were right. All the gossip she has heard from non-troupe members were correct. She is indeed toying with the spider head himself. - She never saw this moment coming.

She gasped as he aligned his length onto her. “If it hurts, grip me.” He said to her as her blue eyes opened wide. She bit her lips harder as the length entered her. She gripped harder on his back. Her manicured nails marking his back, marking half-moons on his back, where the iconic spider tattoo resides in.

Strangely enough, Chrollo has more tattoos than that. He also had one in his left arm, it was a huge dragon with many religious symbols and flowers around it. He and (Name) have a lot in common. - One of them is their unquenchable thirst for knowledge and their love for tattoos.

His length slid into her. Slowly and carefully. She yelped at the large size of his cock entering her. Unlike what she expected from men, “I’ll be gentle” he promised, kissing her lip as his grip on her waist tightened. Oh, it was expected from someone like him to say that.

Her tightness and warmth surrounding Chrollo’s cock earned a growl from him. (Name) also felt more comfortable moaning now. Her moan was rather quiet as she would like to contain the pleasure she is feeling. When his length fully entered, which took a while, instead of starting, he was stuck. Waiting for her to calm down, familiarize herself with his cock. Her tight grip on his back is getting slowly undone as her core adjusted to his length.

"It feels… uncomfortable…" She said to him, biting her lip. Still registering the unfamiliar feeling of her danchou's cock inside of her From her voice and everything, no matter how much of a slut she dresses, she has innocence. The fragile innocence that he is taking away from her.

“Is it okay now, (Name)?” He asked the woman against him. (Name) was speechless. She simply nodded to tell him that he was allowed to move. Her wet muscle has adjusted to his cock. Then, as he got the signal, he started moving his hips back and forth against her, slowly.

It elicited a much louder moan from the young woman. Her eyes went up, slowly fluttering up and down as the waves of pleasure were entering her system. Her hands were still on his back, still gripping it. "Danchou, please go faster." She ordered him as he moved in his slow and sensual pace.

He did follow her order. He moved much faster this time. His other hand went in her neglected clit, rubbing it with his thumb as he crashed his lip on her. - (Name) was overwhelmed by his actions. All the string of thoughts and doubts in her head were long gone now.

"(Name)… So tight..." He remarked as he growled. He continued thrusting in and out. Her grip on his back tightened. She can feel her end is coming near. Chrollo finally found her g-spot.

"Right there… ah… Please!" She exclaimed mouth left agape as she whimpered. He continued his thrusts on her. This time, hitting her spot at each one of them. He started growling and groaning much louder too as he continued the way his hips rock against her. - She never knew a cock felt this good.

His thrusts were now at a much faster pace, she mewled as he thrust his hips harder into her. "Ah… Ah… I think I'm going to cum!" She remarked as he thrust much faster into her.

As he knew the young woman in front of him was near her orgasm, he withdrew his length as he kneeled on the cold cement floor. He went near her slit as he was stroking himself while licking her labia as he began eating her out. - This is something Chrollo does not do with his partners. Although he would like to make (Name) an exception.

He stopped stroking himself as he started fingering her roughly. (Name) moaned the loudest as he was mercilessly pushing and pulling his fingers in her pink hole. His mouth moved from her labia to her clitoris. "Fufu-" she said, her swears were choked as he continued licking her clit and fingering her. Tears started running down her face as she continued to moan, louder than ever.

Her vision was covered with white as her orgasm finally came into her. "Ah... Ah…" She was incredibly speechless. Chrollo made her feel so good. She was glad that her danchou was below her, licking and tasting her precious juices.

She covered her face with her hands, all the shame she felt is coming back as she finally goes back to her senses. Cheeks hot and a sweaty body, then there is her danchou who is gladly eating her out. Licking every single drop of her orgasm like he was a starved man.

To her surprise, Chrollo's cock was still hard. - Tonight, it was obvious that her pleasure was the priority. But, how about his? "(Name)…" He said to her as he puts her legs around his shoulders. She kicked her uncomfortable five-inch stilettos to the ground. She had a sigh of relief as her feet could finally rest.

She puts her head on his shoulders as he moves her to the chair. He sat on there as he started thrusting in and out of her again. The young woman was already shaking because of the hypersensitivity brought by her violent orgasm. This time, he had no mercy with her.

She almost yelled when he entered this monstrous pace. She was at Chrollo's mercy as she held tight on him. His hips bucking up and down on slick slit. "Danchou… ah… your cock is… so big…" she cannot even form words at this point.

It's like she is being sent into heaven once again by Chrollo. Her vision is being clouded again as her back arches. He continued thrusting into her pussy until she had a second climax. She gripped harder onto his shoulder as she followed his pace. His groans got louder as he was close to his own. “D-danchou… ah...” She moaned with a sharp cry.

“Fuck!” He groaned as he was reaching his orgasm. (Name) yelped as she held much tighter on his shoulder. Spurts of white got inside of her. Her vision was filled with stars as she looked up in the ceiling. They tried to catch her breath as he withdrew his length from her. His cock went back to its soft state.

Then, she stood up. She was still quite sensitive. Her legs are shaking, cum dripping on her thighs. She sat into the cold and smooth cement. Her hands held her knees as she sobbed quietly.

Chrollo stood up from the chair and got his blanket. He wrapped the crying woman in the warm fabric. “Why are you crying?” He asked her. His voice was very comforting, but it isn’t enough for her to stop sobbing.

“Please, danchou, don’t touch me.” She told him as she carefully removed his hands from her naked shoulder. He saw that his creation was there. A purple-ish red mark was on her shoulder, near her rose tattoo.

“I feel so overwhelmed. I feel used!” She exclaimed as she wrapped the blanket to herself. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying. Luckily, her danchou seems very experienced. He knows what to do when situations like this come around. He was the firsts of many women, he knew that a lot of them would cry during their first time.

“(Name). Please. Calm down.” He said to her with caring eyes. The stars twinkled in Chrollo’s eyes.

(Name) can never handle all the burden she is experiencing. What if her family knows? She knows that her beloved mom would react in horror. She would never have a chance of having a husband. (Name) always wanted a traditional husband. Even if she has her tattoos and dresses provocatively, she wants a husband who will accept and love her.

All that is thrown in the garbage as she can never have those things anymore. She can never have a husband anymore, all because she gave in with the call of the flesh. She gave in to his desires. It’s all my fault! - (Name) yelled in her mind. It was like an empty void, no matter how you scream, nobody can hear anything.

“I…” Before (Name) can even speak, she feels Chrollo’s tight embrace. She gasped as she rubbed his back. She was speechless as the hug is very comforting.

“I love you (Name).” He cooed into her ears as he started touching her hair, calming the young girl. - Danchou is so different from her expectations. She expected someone like him to be crude and hostile. Yet, here he is, with humility and culture. He truly is a gentleman straight out of a romance novel.

“Let’s clean you up.” He said to her as he picked her up, going to the bathroom. She smiled gingerly at him as she held onto him.

Danchou is so sweet.

#chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #hunter x hunter #chrollo smut #anime smut #smut #anime #hxh #hxh smut #luna's writings

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fangirlshrewt97 · 3 years ago

Text

Underneath Your Clothes

Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)

Pairing: Joe x Nicky

Read on AO3

///

You're a song Written by the hands of God Don't get me wrong 'Cause this might sound to you a bit odd But you own the place Where all my thoughts go hiding And right under your clothes Is where I find them Underneath your clothes There's an endless story There's the man I chose There's my territory And all the things I deserve For being such a good girl honey

- “Underneath Your Clothes” by Shakira

Nicky hummed mindlessly to the Italian song that was floating in through the open window. The singer was barely sixteen, but his voice was reminiscent of the great crooners. He always left with a tidy haul at the end of the day whenever he stopped by their corner. Nicky made a mental note to give him one of his pastries if he caught him before he left for the day.

The timer went off as the kid finished off his song. Nicky removed the baking tray into the oven, closing the door behind him with his hip. He placed the tray on the counter before turning off the timer. He smirked at it, a novelty “Italian Chef” timer Nile had gotten him for Christmas a few years ago. That had been a fun one.

He transferred the baked goods into a couple of large boxes once they had cooled and set the tray in the sink to soak. Once that was done, he cleaned the rest of the kitchen, satisfied only when the counters gleamed and the rest of the dishes were either put away or drying on the rack. Wiping his hands on the kitchen towel, he stepped away from the room. Rolling his neck, Nicky massaged one of his wrists, relieving the tension built up from a day spent rolling and preparing dough.

Glancing at the clock showed that it was 3 in the afternoon. Not bad for a day’s work. Checking the doors and windows were properly closed, Nicky made his way further into the house. Some of their down times were spent just catching their breath from a rough mission. Others, like this one, were to ground themselves back into the world, to remind themselves that their lives did not have to just be blood, vengeance, and seeking to bring justice to the evils of the world.

The breeze that drifted through the bedroom was tinged with the warm sunshine of the Mediterranean sun and the salty tinge of the sea. He leaned against the doorway, smiling softly at the sight that greeted him. Joe, sitting up with his back to the door, both hands in the air, fingers interwoven as he grunted from the stretching exercise. Once he finished, releasing a heavy breath, he placed his hands at the small of his back, curving backwards as far as he could go. The next exercise was placing his hands firmly by his hips and twisting his body until the cracks rang out. Nicky winced at their volume. Unfortunately muscle tension was not something that their healing cured.

Joe had decided to volunteer himself to help out with the renovations happening at the orphanage down the street because his husband had the largest heart that Nicky knew of. For the past three weeks they had been here, Joe would wake up without complaint when Nicky woke him at sunrise and leave for work. He would usually return after sunset, having stayed behind to wrangle the kids for dinner, hair covered in dust, plaster, paint, or on one memorable occasion, all three. Nicky occasionally dropped by to help with the kids, otherwise he occupied himself with cooking food for the crews and for the children.

But today was Sunday, so Joe had spent his day off sleeping most of the morning and afternoon away except for the meals Nicky had forced into him.

“Need help?” Nicky said softly as Joe grunted for the third time trying to stretch his arms all the way up.

Joe turned his head to see him quickly, shooting him one of his signature smiles. His shoulders betrayed his tiredness though. “I would never say no to your hands on me, ya amar.”

Snorting, Nicky made his way over to Joe, going around the bed to stand between his open legs. Gently, Nicky cupped the back of Joe’s neck with both hands and dug his thumbs into the space between his jaw and ears. Joe groaned, tipping forward until his forehead rested on Nicky’s stomach.

“Don’t stop.” Joe whined as Nicky moved to massage the back of Joe’s neck.

Nicky dipped down to press a kiss to the top of Joe’s head, the root of his palms skating their way down his back in a firm press. Joe’s spine seemed to melt beneath his hands as his husband went floppy in his arms. He repeated the motion twice more, switching to a faster pace, and then to using folded fingers.

“Maybe you should take a break Joe, just because our bodies don’t stay hurt or ache doesn’t mean we cannot be sore if we push ourselves hard enough.” Nicky said while bringing his hands back up until they rested on Joe’s broad shoulders.

Joe let his head fall back, eyes half closed as he peered up at Nicky. “We are so close though Nicky. Just one more week.”

Nicky sighed. “Alright my love.”

Joe smiled at him and fully closed his eyes, nudging his head back into Nicky’s hands.

“Si, si, I am getting to it.” Nicky said fondly, bringing his fingers up to bury themselves in Joe’s curls. Systematically, he gathered the hair into two fists, squeezed, and then relaxed, moving to cover all of Joe’s scalp. He moved down to squeeze intermittently at his forehead, then to his ears, tugging and rubbing at them. He pressed his thumbs to Joe’s temple, the hum from his husband’s throat vibrating through his hands. A firm swipe down his proud nose, another two across the faint field of freckles spotted near the bridge of his nose. Strong hold of the jaw, fingers curling through the beard.

When Joe was halfway to sleep, Nicky leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. And then another two over his closed eyelids.

Joe’s eyes fluttered open. “Hayati, I love you more than anything in this world, and will give it to you if you ask me.”

Nicky raised an eyebrow when Joe paused. “But?”

“But I will fall asleep on you if you try to have sex with me right now.” Joe said sincerely, and with regret in his eyes.

Nicky laughed, fondness overflowing from his heart at his ridiculous fool.

“I will do my best not to have sex with you now then.”

Joe let out a mournful whine which just made Nicky laugh harder. It seemed to increase in volume when he stepped away from the reach of Joe’s outstretched hands.

“Oh you will survive Joe.” Nicky said as he walked over to their dresser. He hummed as he sorted through the contents of the drawer until he found the bottle he was looking for.

Opening it, he inhaled deeply, a content smile forming as the soothing scent of sandalwood and rose oil rose to greet him. Turning around, Nicky snorted at the sight. Joe was leaning back on the bed, body weight resting on his elbows as his head tipped back. The line of this throat called to Nicky.

Moving towards him, Nicky placed the oil on the bedside table. He then gently pushed at Joe’s shoulders, the gentle shove enough to send Joe falling fully against the mattress. Carefully, Nicky threw a leg across Joe’s lap, hands running over his chest before they paused at the topmost button of his shirt.

“I thought you said we weren’t having sex.” Joe pouted at him, hands coming up instinctively to rest at Nicky’s hips, their warmth seeping through the thin cotton t-shirt Nicky had on. He sometimes wondered if it would be possible for skin to indent from the constant press of something against it, like water cutting its way through a rock, or a leaf falling in wet cement. Wondered if at a microscopic level, his skin would be marked by the whorls of Joe’s fingertips.

“We aren’t.” Nicky said as he unbuttoned Joe’s shirt. He paused when it was fully open, lightly running his fingers across the length of the toned chest he could recall from memory.

In the later afternoon light, Joe was painted golden, and Nicky went dizzy with the wave of want that suddenly washed over him. So long together, and yet Joe made him burn hotter than anything else he had ever known.

Joe was his miracle, more than his immortality, a miracle in the shape of a man who had found it in him to not only forgive a man who had committed unspeakable atrocities against his people, but to love him so deeply, Nicky could feel it in his bones. The sun rose from the east, the Mediterranean was home, Joe loved him.

Joe let out a little giggle when Nicky’s fingers caressed his sides, a ticklish spot Nicky was not afraid to exploit when he needed it. That wasn’t what this was about though. Joe did not need a tease. He deserved a reward.

Humming in apology, Nicky set about stripping Joe down and manipulating him until he was laying at the center of the bed on his stomach, naked. Joe for his part let Nicky shift him to his heart’s content, settling heavily into the mattress.

After arranging him comfortably, Nicky straddled the back of Joe’s thighs, armed with the bottle of massage oil. Pouring a handful out, he closed it tightly before wringing his hands, making sure to oil them thoroughly. He placed his hands on Joe’s shoulders, thumbs settling near the start of Joe’s spine while his other fingers curled around the meat of Joe’s shoulders. He squeezed tightly, pushing his weight into it as he worked to relieve the knots he could feel underneath his hands.

Joe started moaning, a deep and heavy sound that Nicky tried to tune out lest they distract him.

Here were Joe’s shoulders, that had once slung an injured soldier across them, a child who had come to frontlines in the name of patriotism. He had trekked through the trenches till he’d delivered him to a field hospital.

Here were his arms, corded with muscles honed through fighting with scimitar and broadsword and gun, but also honed with the manual labor of tilling fields and repairing houses.

And here, his forearms, his wrists, his hands. Long fingers capable of creating masterpieces that could rival the artistic geniuses of the past centuries.

His strong back, his spine, which bent but never broke, that never stayed down for long. That did not bow in the face of injustice, and willingly took punishment to spare an innocent the scars that would not mar his skin for long.

His hips, which had seated countless kids when they had downtime during rescue missions, a throne and a safety cushion from which they could learn the old names of the constellations, and about seeing the beauty even in the war-torn landscape.

His ass, which Nicky would truly never get enough of.

Further down, his thighs, his calves, hard from decades of walking, running, marching, criss-crossing Earth. Nile had attempted to do the math once, to see how many miles they had walked in their long lives, how many times had they theoretically circumnavigated the globe. The average person from the 21st century would walk 110,000 miles in a lifetime. She had despaired trying to figure out if she should combined Nicky and Joe’s steps or count them individually, and then given up entirely when faced with Andy’s history.

His feet, soft only because of their healing powers, feet that had carried him barefoot over every terrain, through grass and sand and snow and sea.

When Nicky reached back up to place a kiss on Joe’s neck, he heard Joe’s soft snores.

Smiling softly, he pressed another kiss to Joe’s cheek and got out of bed.

He returned to the kitchen, scrubbing the baking tray clean and leaving it to dry. He grabbed one of their disposable boxes and placed two pastries into it. Checking to make sure he was dressed decently, Nicky jogged down the steps of the house just as the busker was placing his guitar back in his case.

“Lorenzo!” Nicky called, signalling for him to wait up. Lorenzo blushed, and huh, maybe Joe wasn’t so far off with his theory the kid had a crush on Nicky. He gave him the box, Lorenzo accepting it with wide eyes.

Nicky shrugged and looked at his sweetly. “You should eat enough to have the strength to keep singing.”

Lorenzo grinned and nodded before waving bye to him. Nicky watched until the kid had boarded the bus before making his way back home. Just before entering, he purchased a handful of dahlias from the flower vendor.

Joe had shifted to his back when Nicky re-entered their bedroom, his arm slung over his stomach, fingers twitching as though they were searching for something. Nicky placed the flowers with the vase by the bedside table so Joe would see them when he woke up.

Walking one last time around the house to make sure everything was locked up, Nicky removed his own t-shirt and pants so he was in just his underwear. He folded the clothes neatly and placed them on top of the laundry hamper before he crawled into bed. Gently lifting Joe’s arm, Nicky settled on top of Joe’s chest, ears filling with the sound of Joe’s heartbeat.

A subtle hitch in Joe’s breath and the tightening of the arm around him alerted Nicky to his husband’s wakeful status.

“Thank you for the wonderful massage, cuore mio.” Joe breathed softly.

Nicky turned and nuzzled into his side, making him let out a laughing gasp. “Anytime, vita mia.”

Joe drifted back to sleep within a few breaths. Nicky laid awake for some more time.

Nearly a thousand years he had been by Joe’s side, had had the permission to touch him like lovers do. And yet the thrill of it was always present, the gift never unappreciated.

He did not know whether or not he would ever atone for all the sins he committed over his long life, and at this point he did not much care. The only person who’s opinion mattered to him was right here.

Joe, who had seen first hand what Nicky had done. Joe, who had been killed by his hands. Who had killed him his fair share of times. Who had allowed him to stumble his way but never left him. Who had heard every secret fantasy and dream and fear Nicky had thought of, and promised to guard them. Joe who had been with him for every adventure and story this crazy life threw their way.

Joe who spent their vacation helping with renovations at an orphanage.

And here, bare between them, this was Nicky’s reward. Call him selfish, Nicky would share a lot with the world, but this was his. This love, this trust. This life.

Joe was his. His love. His territory. His sanctuary. His to keep.

#my fic #my writing #the old guard #tog #the old guard fic #tog fic #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #joe x nicky #nicky x joe #kaysanova #let me know what you think!

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whumpwriterforlife · 3 years ago

Note

Could you do bounty on their head with Cor? Thanks!

Hello my dear anon! Here you go, bounty on their head with young Cor!

Bounty on Their Head

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Cor Leonis, Regis Lucis Caelum, Clarus Amicitia, Weskham Armaugh & Cid Sophiar

Whumpee: Cor Leonis

Word count: 2850

Warnings: Non-consensual Drugging, Captivity (but there's a good ending)

Can also be found on AO3 here

---

Cor groaned, opening his eyes a slit. The world swam in his eyes, blurry and confusing. Lethargic, his eyes fell shut again.

His head pressed against a soft surface. It was nice, his head didn’t hurt as much like that. It was almost comfortable. Cor let out a pleased sigh. He drifted off.

It was cold. A shiver raked through Cor’s body, eliciting a low whine from him as his achy muscles protested. The air smelled stale, damp. He curled in on himself, arms and legs tugged close to stay warm. He wished he had a blanket.

A loud bang startled Cor. Eyes wide, he shot up into a sitting position, breathing hard. A thread of panic surfaced, settling heavy in his chest as he fully registered his surroundings for the first time.

The room was small, almost claustrophobic. The walls were brick, the floor cement, and the only exit was a large metal door on the opposite side of the room. There was no furniture, nothing other than the stained old mattress he was sitting on. His only light source was the lamp hanging from the ceiling.

Cor swore. He dropped his gaze down to assess his own condition, only to swear more when he noticed the copious amount of duct tape that had been wrapped around his wrists and all the way up his forearms. His feet had been bound in a similar manner. He swallowed hard, squashing the panic that threatened to rise. He struggled against the bindings, pulling and twisting with all his strength as he tried to loosen them.

His last memory was of Regis demanding they stop at a motel for the night. They were approaching winter fast, which meant the weather was growing cold. Regis had been complaining about it for days and that evening he had kept pestering the others until he had gotten his way. Cor remembered pulling over, remembered being secretly relieved at the sight of the motel and the promise of a warm bed, but after that everything was blank.

Breathless and exhausted, Cor slumped against the wall only a few minutes later. The tape had barely loosened but his muscles still burned and arms stung. He felt lightheaded. It wasn’t right. He shouldn’t have been worn out so fast. Cor made a low, distressed noise in the back of his throat as he closed his eyes. He couldn’t remember anything. He hoped Regis and the others were alright.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, he might have drifted off for all he knew, but at some point he shifted, pulling his knees up, determined to get free. He was a Crownsguard. He was supposed to protect Regis, be the best of the best. This couldn’t be enough to take him down. Cor propped his elbows on his legs awkwardly and brought his hands close to his face. He bit the duct tape, trying to rip it off.

It didn’t work as fast as he hoped. There were too many layers and the tape was too strong. He winced when the tape somehow cut his lip but didn’t stop. The progress was slow and tired him out even more but he stuck with it. Eventually it paid off, and he got enough of the tape off to yank his hands free. He wanted to take a break and rest but he knew he couldn’t afford it. Someone was bound to come to check on him sooner or later, and Cor would rather not be there when that happened.

He reached for his feet, only to freeze when the door creaked open. The man behind the door stared at him for a moment before his expression twisted into one of fury. “The brat’s trying to escape!”

Cor would’ve bristled at being called that but he didn’t have time. Jerking into movement, he pulled a knife out of the armiger to free his legs. The man rushed at him, and there was a shadow of another figure behind him. Cor wouldn’t be fast enough to get free. He swore and struck the first man with the knife, sinking it deep into his thigh. The man roared and staggered a step to the side before collapsing.

“I’ll fucking kill you!”

Cor tried to push to his feet but the other man was on him already. He blocked the first punch, barely, but that was all he managed to do before he was grabbed by the throat and thrown against the wall. A strangled noise burst from his lips, his eyes squeezing shut as a spark of pain shot through his head. The hand was back then, blocking his airway as it pinned him to the wall. He gasped and choked, clawing at the hand.

“What did you think was going to happen, huh?” the second man snarled and pressed down harder. “Pero, get the fuck up and get me the syringe.”

Cor’s eyes fluttered as he writhed in the man’s grasp. He needed to get free. He pushed at the hand on his throat but he was growing weak.

“The guy better pay double for him! The brat has caused us too much trouble already!” the first man, Pero, growled. Cor turned his head as much as he could to see him breaking a potion over the stab wound before getting up. Shit.

“Wha-” Cor croaked.

“Shut up!” the second man told him, his fingers squeezing tighter. Cor made a strangled noise. His lungs were starting to burn. “Soon you’ll be someone else’s problem but until then we’ll just have to keep you drugged out of your mind. Pero!”

“Fuck! Don’t yell at me, it’s right here,” Pero hissed in response.

Cor caught a glimpse of a syringe being handed to the man and flinched. If he let them do that, it would be game over. He didn’t know where he would wake up or if he would wake up at all. With the last of his strength, he brought both of his feet up and kicked out.

There was swearing, the sound of something clattering to the ground but Cor noticed none of it as he hit the ground. He coughed and sputtered, curling onto his side to catch his breath. He needed to move. Reaching down towards his legs, he tried to pull another knife from the armiger. Nothing happened. Ice cold dread washed over Cor. A kick to the side made him groan. Hands manhandled him onto his stomach and wrenched his arms back.

“Keep him still!”

“I am!”

Cor felt a prick in his neck, followed by a cold sensation as something was plunged into his bloodstream. He gasped. Panic crept up his spine but it dissolved seconds later as everything became muted. The weight lifted off his back but his hands weren’t released.

Somewhere further away, there was a loud crash, followed by shouting that was distinctively familiar. Cor’s eyes fluttered shut and he drifted off.

----

There was something cold and wet touching his arm, moving up and down. It was gentle with the faintest amount of pressure. Cor groaned, shifting uneasily. The movement stopped. Something was said but the words meant nothing. A hand on his face, forehead, still gentle. Cor turned his head away with an incoherent mumble. It wasn’t right.

The hand slid down, cupping his cheek for a moment before moving the side of his neck. Cor flinched. He suddenly remembered the duct tape, the fight, the hand on his throat. His eyes flew open and he scrambled back, instinctively calling a knife to his hand. His back hit something and he froze, the knife at the attacker's throat.

For a moment, neither of them moved, or dared to breathe.

Then the attacker spoke, slow and careful. “Cor, put the knife down. You’re not in any danger, I won’t harm you.”

Cor blinked. The knife clattered down. He felt nauseous. “Regis?”

“Yes, it is me,” Regis told him, a small smile on his lips as he reached for the knife Cor had dropped. It disappeared in a flash of blue sparks. Cor took a deep breath. “We weren’t expecting you to wake up so soon.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Cor started. He had really just put a knife to the Crown Prince’s throat. That had to be treason or something.

Regis waved a hand and huffed. “Don’t worry about that. Frankly, I had been expecting something like to happen, but not so soon.”

Cor frowned, not quite following. “You expected me to put a knife on your throat?”

“Well, yes,” Regis said with a shrug. “You lost consciousness before we could reach you, so your last memory would have been of captivity. It’s a reasonable reaction for you to lash out.”

“Oh.”

Regis smirked but grew serious soon. “How are you feeling? We haven’t dared give you a potion, considering we don’t know what they drugged you with.”

Cor made a face at the reminder and brought one of his hands up to rub his neck. “I’m fine.”

The look Regis gave him was highly unimpressed.

Cor huffed and slumped back. He went to cross his arms but thought better of it when he saw how red and raw the skin looked. Instead he dropped them down on his lap. “Tired, sore. Kinda lightheaded.”

“Right,” Regis hummed, a hint of worry clear in his expression. “There’s not much we can do about any of that yet, unfortunately. As soon as the others get back, we’ll head back to the motel and see what we can do for you.”

Cor tilted his head and glanced around. They were in the back seat of the Regalia. The car was running but there was no one else there with them. Astrals, how messed up was he to not have realized any of that until now?

“Where are they? Where are we?”

“They should be back any moment now,” Regis responded. Cor frowned at the non-answer. “We are about half an hour away from the motel, we’ve been driving for a few hours already. Do you want a jacket? Or a blanket perhaps? It’s not what I would exactly call T-shirt weather out there.”

Cor turned his head to look out of the window. It was pouring outside, yet another thing he had somehow missed. It looked to be late afternoon or evening. Had he lost a full day?

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Cor said as he turned back to look at Regis. A moment later there was a thick blanket flying at him. He yelped, pouting as he heard Regis snicker at him. He pulled the blanket tightly around himself and tucked himself into the corner between the seat and the door.

It only took a few moments for the exhaustion — or maybe that was just the drugs? — to catch up to him after he got comfortable. He heard Regis chuckle and felt him settle down next to him but then he was asleep.

----

Cor sighed as he burrowed himself deeper into the softness. It was warm and comfortable. He didn’t want to move, much less wake up. There was a steady stream of chatter coming from somewhere but it was quiet enough not to disturb him. He pulled his blanket up to his chin and shifted to lie on his side. It was a mistake and elicited a pained hiss from him. The chatter paused.

“Cor?”

Cor rolled onto his back and groaned. “‘m awake.”

The sound of a chair scraping the floor reached him, followed by footsteps. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” Cor replied as he blinked his eyes open. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the brightness but then Wesk was leaning over him and conveniently blocking the worst of the light. A look to the side showed him the rest of the group staring at him from where they had gathered around a small table. “My head doesn’t feel as fuzzy anymore.”

“That’s good,” Wesk nodded. His eyes were sharp as he seemed to assess Cor’s condition. “How are your arms and neck?”

Cor’s brow furrowed, a hint of confusion in his expression. He brought one of his hands to his neck. Oh, yeah. His neck must have been a sight to see. “It doesn’t really hurt all that much.”

Wesk hummed, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t feel comfortable giving you a potion just yet in case you still have drugs in your system. Maybe we can see about giving you some over-the-counter pain medication, it shouldn’t pose as big a risk.”

“Right,” Cor muttered. He wasn’t in much pain at the moment so it wasn’t that big of a deal. It just would be a little awkward to be in public while his neck was all bruised. Sighing, Cor turned his head to glance at the others. “What time is it?”

“Dinner time,” Clarus responded, waving a bag of something in his hand. “If you feel up for it.”

Cor pushed himself into a sitting position with a yawn. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten something. “Yeah, sure.”

Wesk ushered him to the table where he got himself a burger and fries from the bag. Someone reminded him to eat slowly, and Cor rolled his eyes. The chatter stayed light until Cor had finished his meal which, if he had to guess, had been planned beforehand. When he put the food wrappers away, the atmosphere grew more serious.

Cor sighed as he sat back down. “Yeah?”

“We would like to know what you remember from your captivity. You were gone for almost a day,” Regis said, eyes carefully tracking Cor’s expression. There was concern there, maybe even a hint of anger.

Cor pulled one foot onto the chair and tugged his knee to his chest before propping his head on it. “Not much, snippets from here and there. I think they kept me drugged most of the time, I just remember being more alert once, the time I tried to escape…”

He paused, recalling some of what the men had said. “I think— I think they were hired by someone?”

Regis made a face at that. “Not exactly. Apparently there’s a bounty out on your head.”

Cor blinked. “A bounty? On me? But why?”

“Believe me, that’s the exact question I asked when we found out.” Clarus waggled his eyebrows, looking like an idiot. “But yeah, apparently you’re a wanted man even at fifteen years old.”

Cor rolled his eyes and huffed. “You’re such a child.”

“Hey, I’m not the 15-year-old here,” Clarus shot back with a smirk. “Not even old enough to drink.”

Cor ignored him as he turned to look at the others. “Do we know who put out the bounty?”

“Yeah, and it’s been dealt with already.” Regis nodded.

“Dealt with?”

“Yes. It appears that the bounty was put in place by a disgruntled nobleman who was less than enthusiastic about you being chosen for my retinue.”

“But-” Cor cut himself off, bewildered. “What? Why- what was he hoping to achieve by doing this?”

“That scum was most likely lookin’ to take your place in the retinue,” Cid said with a huff as he leaned back in his chair. He looked angry which was a feat in itself. Cid might fill the role of the grumpy old man but he was actually hard to piss off.

“But as I said, it’s been taken care of,” Regis continued and gave Cid a pointed look. “He has been apprehended as of two hours ago. He’ll be spending a long time in prison. There’s no reason to worry.”

“He can kiss his career in the ‘Guard goodbye,” Clarus said. He didn’t sound particularly apologetic, and if the look on the others’ faces was anything to go by, they shared the sentiment.

“Good riddance,” Wesk remarked and crossed his arms.

Cor smiled. It wasn’t often that all of them could agree on something. “So how did you guys find me?”

The guys shared a look at that. “Well, let’s just say that those guys weren’t good at covering their tracks.”

Cor tilted his head curiously but it didn’t seem like he was going to get a better explanation. “Okay…”

Regardless, it was all good news. Time passed fast as they continued to talk, and eventually Cor started yawning. It annoyed him. He had basically done nothing but slept in the last day or so but he still felt tired. Wesk assured him that it was just because of the drugs and it would stop when the drugs had run their course, which would hopefully be by the next morning. He tried to fight it, not wanting to go back to sleep, but the guys ushered him back into bed despite his complaints. In the end he and Regis ended up falling asleep side by side, calm and resting — at least until a few hours later, when Cor, the restless sleeper that he was, started moving around and practically kicked Regis off the bed and hogged the blanket to himself

#badthingshappenbingo #bounty on their head #final fantasy xv #cor leonis #cid sophiar #regis lucis caelum #weskham armaugh #clarus amicitia #hurt cor leonis #hurt/comfort #strangulation #bruises #captivity tw #drugging tw #ffxv #whump #my writing #noncon drugging #rescue

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azurethevampire · 3 years ago

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I Will Give You A Reason

A/N: Set in season 6, episodes 2-3 (I think at least it was those episodes xD) This piece is quite angst-filled one, so prepare yourself with tissues if you have to. If there is any mistakes to the few words/sentences of Swedish used in this, they are entirely my own as that isn't my strongest foreign language and I didn't use a translator. Also this was written about a year ago when I watched True Blood for the first time.

Fandom: True Blood

Summary: Emily and Pam have searched for Eric across the world. When they finally find the 1,000 years old viking vampire from France Emily's already shattered world seems to turn into dust: Eric, her rock, her best friend, the only father she's ever had, is sick.

Characters: Eric Northman, Pamela Swynford de Beaufort, Emily Northman (oc)

Words: 2736

•-•-•-•-•

"Pam, you have to eat."

You don't look like yourself, she wanted to add but stopped herself just in time. The vampire had been snappier for a few days now and Emily didn't want to make her mad at her. Not that she believed that Pam would really hurt her, even in anger. She had never done so after that one time and that had been when Emily was six and she hadn't known when to keep her mouth shut.

Well, maybe she still didn't know when to keep her mouth shut —but she was better than ten years ago!

Pam turned to look at the teenager—No. The young woman, that Emily had blossomed into in the last months despite that the world seemed to grow shittier every fucking day. Perhaps that was the reason why. Emily had lost that soft roundness on her face and her eyes were tired, dark bags under her eyes. Her clothes hung on her, and Pam, for a brief moment, wondered when was the last time the human herself had eaten.

"I'm not hungry."

Emily resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead, she sat down on the only chair in the motel room they were in. "Snälla, Pam. You could at least stop lying to me about it - I'm not blind!"

Pam was about to snap something back, but instead, her hand reached the doorknob. But before she left the room she turned to face Emily again. "If I can't find anything tonight, I'll feed on you tomorrow, I promise. Stay here, don't open the door to anyone and don't invite anyone in."

Emily let Pam say those words the vampire had said every night although the girl is tired of hearing them night after night. But it seemed to help Pam, to get to remind her of those small yet so trivial rules. So Emily's "I know" echoed in the empty vampire-friendly motel room after Pam had left and closed the door behind her.

Her eyes spotted the room key left on the small cracked table near the door. In the first months of their search, Pam locked Emily in but lately, the vampire had not taken the keys with her at all.

And because of that Emily knew that Pam was starting to become suicidal in their search for Eric.

•-•-•-•-•

“I think I found him.”

Pam has never - as far as Emily’s memory goes back - sounded more… excited? Happy? No, that is not the right word and she knew that. Pam’s voice was flat, she tried to hide the hope that had filled her but Emily felt it. It radiated off Eric’s first progeny and she couldn’t help it; for the first time in months, Emily dared to let herself hope too.

But there was something else she sensed from Pam. She was sad too, and that made the girl swallow. “But?” When did my voice start to sound so weak? So small?

Pam’s next words killed something inside of her.

“Tara is dead. I felt it.”

What felt like minutes passed and Emily couldn’t say anything, couldn’t move from her spot. Pam was still but there was no denying the glint in her eyes. Emily and Pam had never been the type to coddle each other. Never.

Still, Emily raised up in her bed anyway, took the few short steps it took to reach the vampire, who had been her only family for six months now, and she wrapped her arms around her, swallowing and blinking back the tears she felt coming.

“I’m so sorry, Pam.”

And Pam - beautiful, bad-ass, smart Pam - returned the young woman’s embrace, letting bloody tears run freely, staining Emily’s shirt with red.

•-•-•-•-•

The plane landed in France the same evening - Pam in a coffin in the cargo hold.

They flew to the villa in France. Pam had told Emily that she and Eric used to live here before they were forced to go to Shreveport.

She could see why the two vampires had chosen this place to reside in — even in the night, the garden surrounding the sand-coloured walls of the large building was breathtakingly beautiful.

Emily had more pressing matters though than to watch the sights. She could feel him. First time in over six months, Emily felt Eric. That familiar flare that had so long been gone from inside her, burned again. No. Not completely familiar. There was no doubt that the vampire she felt was indeed Eric Northman. But his life force, which had always been so strong… it cracked. Like old dry cement.

Something is wrong, Emily thought as she followed Pam inside, to a spiral staircase going down, down, down.

Emily swallowed. She had a bad feeling. Very bad feeling - and god, she wished she was wrong. She begged to be wrong. That there was simply something wrong with her own powers, and not something wrong with her Eric.

Wishful thinking, foolish thinking, she knew. Knew because she had felt this same feeling before over the past months - recently more often than she would have wanted to.

Emily and Pam started to make their way down the stairs, and Emily - her chest tightened in pain.

Two youngish and beautiful women met the vampire and the empath on the stairs. One of them said something in French. Emily couldn't understand, she had never bothered learning French. Maybe sometime during 'forever' — she had used to think that. Not anymore, not for a long time now.

She didn't know what the French woman said but she did feel their emotions. Confusion. Betrayal. Hurt. Confusion.

The final round of the spiral and Pam and Emily saw the room.

As soon as Emily's eyes fell on him, she felt her heart tighten. She had thought she had felt pain last night when Tara died the true death. She had been wrong.

Nothing she had ever felt compared to the heart-wrenching, punch-in-the-gut pain that crashed over her like a hurricane when the dark veins creeping up her guardian's chest, the meaning of them, finally hit her.

And even though her legs felt like boiled spaghetti, Emily forced herself to step closer to Eric. Eric who was sick. He can't be! He's Eric for fuck's sake! But he could be, and he was. "No" pushed through her lips, past the lump in her throat, the word sounding broken.

And Eric.

Eric Northman's eyes switched from his first progeny to his human equivalent to a daughter. "You found me."

“How long?” Pam asked the question that burned on Emily’s mind too. It seemed that Eric was still in the first stage of the Hep-V virus but she knew that that didn’t mean anything. Not because she didn’t know how long Eric had been sick. He could have months left with proper blood sources but then again, if the disease got worse, he could only have days.

The tall blonde vampire didn’t answer, not right away. He almost looked like he was about to fall asleep. Hot tears began to blind the teenager’s vision as she grabbed his hand in hers. His hand had always been cold. Cooling touch relieving to Emily. Eric’s hand was warm now. This is wrong! Emily’s mind screamed at her.

“Eric?”

“Can you repeat the question?”

And those words that seemed so meaningless, so genuinely apologetic, were the words that sent Emily’s tears falling from her eyes.

“How long have you been sick?” And Emily heard in Pam’s voice that she was crying too.

“Saw the first signs last month”, Eric said and not once in the time Emily had known Eric had he sounded so weak. So tired.

“When you were in St. Petersburg”, Emily heard herself say. She and Pam had tracked Eric there - Pam cursing all of the time they were in Russia, how she hated the Russians with her gut.

Something flickered in Eric’s blue, tired eyes. And even though faint, Emily felt the emotion: surprise. And even if the situation they are in, is fucked beyond belief, the young woman of seventeen found herself smiling, just the tiniest bit. Because one didn’t sneak up on Eric Northman that easily.

“Don’t act all surprised”, Pam said behind Emily. “We searched the whole fucking planet for you - St. fucking Petersburg, Eric? You know how I hate the Russian people.”

“Well, I didn’t know you two were gonna come looking for me”, Eric said, eyes moving to Emily whose eyes squinted slightly.

“Then you were an idiot”, Emily said in Swedish. Another small wave of surprise from Eric. Emily continued. “Why did you keep moving then?”

“Yes, I want to know the answer to that as well”, Pam said crossing her arms.

Eric chuckled, although it awfully sounds like a mix of a chuckle and a cough. Too rough, Emily thought.

“Congratulations, Pam, Emmy-”, and Emily’s eyes were burning with unshed tears again because it had been so long that she had heard that nickname from Eric. “You have outwitted me.” His hand raised to touch Emily’s cheek. “But only because I’m not well.”

Pam told about Tara, but to Emily’s confusion, Eric didn’t offer words of comfort, didn’t say he was sorry to hear that. Instead, he asked about a stupid bucket game he played in Marocco - the same game Pam had played last night to get the information of Eric’s location.

“Oh… I liked the bucket game.”

And Pam was about to snap, she already took steps forward, but Emily beat the vampire to it.

“What is wrong with you?! You are Eric fucking Northman!” her hands balled to fists, the tears in her eyes no longer coming out of sadness, but anger. “You don’t give up. You fight!”

“Fight’s over, Emily.”

“This can’t all be about Sylvie.”

Emily didn’t know who Sylvie was. But she knew that Eric giving up like this couldn’t be just because of one person.

“Godric”, Eric stated. “Nora.” Emily felt a tug of pain in her chest, partly her own, partly the vampire’s whose hand she still held in hers. “And yes, Sylvie too.”

And Pam’s next question made Emily’s heart skip a beat, two beats. Because she had never, even in her wildest worst-case scenarios, thought about that. Not until Pam put that idea in her head when she asked: “Did you contract the virus on purpose?”

Eric wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do something so… he wouldn’t! but despite her thoughts, Emily couldn’t have said why she was suddenly so afraid of his answer.

“On purpose? No-” Eric said, shaking his head a little, and Emily felt a relieved breath leave her. “But did I go about my dealings with a devil-may-care attitude? Absolutely.”

“Damn you!” Emily snapped, but then she burst into tears. She was exhausted - she hadn’t slept since Marocco and even there it was just a few hours -, and the only thing that had kept her from having a break-down had been hope. Hope that she would see Eric again soon. But this reunion had not been the relief she had waited for. She was glad to see him again, but a small part of her wished they never would have found him.

Because now, she was afraid. More afraid than she had ever been in her entire life - and that was saying something after the torture Edgington had put her through two years ago.

Eric tried to reach for the girl, but Emily turned away, scooting back in the chair so she sat by his legs. She pulled her knees up, hugged herself tightly and buried her face in her knees as sobs racked her whole body. She was barely aware that Pam had sat on Eric’s other side, trying to reason with him.

“Don’t do this to us”, Emily heard Pam start sobbing and she turned her head, just enough that she could see Eric and her again - and she didn’t want to. She really didn’t but she still reached out with her hand, and her fingers - still so small and slim in comparison - wrapped around Eric’s large hand the best they could. “Please, Eric…”, Emily sobbed, too.

“God damn you!” Pam cursed.

“For more than 1,000 years, the world has been my oyster”, Eric said.

“And it still can be”, Pam argued. “I’ll do anything.” Emily squeezed Eric’s hand. Me too. I would do anything for you. She wanted to say but the words refused to leave her.

“I’ve lost my taste for oysters, Pam.”

“Then find it again.” Emily’s voice came out harsher than she intended and she gained Eric and Pam’s attention. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she uncurled herself from her position. “Du lovade mig”, Emily said in Swedish, desperately, and her voice was thick with emotion.

Something in Eric’s eyes shifted. Turned softer and sad. “I know I did, sweetheart, but the world has changed since then.” He grabbed Emily’s wrist and pulled her towards him - and even sick, Emily found out that Eric was still so much stronger than she was. She was only human after all - even if it was with a little something extra. Eric’s feelings were clear and honest at his next words as his hand rested on the side of Emily’s face, thumb lightly brushing away her tears.

“My sweet little Emily”, Eric whispered, his lips forming a quick smile, sad and warm at the same time. “You are gonna go out there. You are gonna grow up to be a beautiful, smart woman, go to some stupid fucking university and find yourself a good, loving human husband. You’re going to have kids and you will tell them stories about their 1,000 years old vampire grandfather… and you will be happy… Do you understand?”

Emily swallowed, her hand raising on top of Eric’s now-wrong-temperature hand. She only barely managed to croak out the tiniest of “yes”. Even though she knew she would not do any of that.

“You should go. Both of you.”

Pam was crying but she was the first to rise from beside Eric and start to walk towards the staircase.

This is wrong! Emily’s mind screamed as she rose. Virus or no virus Eric was not just any other vampire - he was Eric! 1,000 years old vampire and a viking! Vikings had not just sat down and waited for death to come collect them! At least Emily didn’t think so. No. Vikings, they avenged. Just like Eric had avenged his human family only seven or so months ago.

As his last act… Emily felt no guilt of thinking about this at that moment, no guilt about throwing someone else’s life to a path to death - as far as she was concerned the other person deserved it.

As his last act before true death, Eric Northman could take revenge against the person who did this to him.

“Sarah Newlin”, Emily said, turning back to face Eric again. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Pam turn on her heels a glint of surprise and (oh that traitorous) hope in her eyes.

“What about her?” Eric asked, his eyes closed.

“What if I told you that Jason Stackhouse let her live.”

Eric’s eyes opened, his voice hardened. “He didn’t.”

“He did”, Pam said, catching on to Emily’s plan. “And she’s out there.”

“Where?”

“No one’s seen her”, Emily said.

“I have to imagine she’s in hiding somewhere”, Pam offered.

Emily saw Eric’s jaw clench. Then… then, with what seemed like a heavy effort, Eric pushed himself up in the chair and slowly, slower than Emily was used to seeing the vampire’s motions - Eric Northman stood in front of her, grasping her shoulder, as his eyes once again roamed between his girls.

“Well, let’s go find her.”

Emily wasn’t naive. She knew that Eric was still dying, but at least now he wouldn’t just sit down here and wait for it. He would go down fighting.

Just like he had taught her was the right way to go.

Just like the viking he was supposed to be - just like Eric fucking Northman was supposed to fight.

So, yes, Eric was still dying but at least now - and maybe it was selfish to think that way, but Emily didn’t find it in herself to care - Emily had a few more days to spend with the man who had taken her in as if she was his progeny instead of some orphan human child with empath powers.

#true blood #true blood fic #eric northman #pamela swynford de beaufort #oc #eric northman fic #my writing #my fic #true blood oc #oc: emily northman #angst fic

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hale-13 · 3 years ago

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Zero Days Without Incident

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 20 Prompt - Defiance

The ‘Days Without Incident’ sign in Tony Stark’s private workshop has nothing to do with engineering or science mishaps and all to do with a bet between him and a certain Spiderling.

Words: 1783, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan

TW: Stabbing

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Peter you have thirty minutes until your curfew,” Karen warned him, already plotting a course home and throwing it up on his HUD.

It was a balmy spring evening and Peter had spent most of his patrol leisurely swinging through Queens or relaxing on a hammock made from his webs. There had been a few petty crimes he had dealt with, some grand theft bicycle, a cat stuck in a tree but, all in all, he couldn’t really complain. He loved being Spider-Man and helping his neighborhood but it was nice to have a slow day sometimes.

A scream sounded in the distance.

“Spoke too soon,” he mumbled, altering his course and picking up speed. “Can you get me directions K?”

“Of course Peter,” Karen answered, as chirpy and happy as normal, re-routing him away from his apartment and toward the sounds of discourse in the distance. When he dropped in on the scene it seemed to be a mugging in progress and Peter rolled his eyes – didn’t people have anything better to do on a random Tuesday in April? God just seriously rethink your life choices.

“I would say its knife to meet you but I’ve definitely used that pun in the last couple weeks and I don’t want to be accused of not being original,” Peter called down, making both the assailant and victim flinch and look up to where he was perched on the wall above them. “Where did even get that thing? The renaissance fair? Who robs people with a full on dagger anyway? Run out of kitchen knives?” Peter quipped, flipping down and pushing the mugger away with a well placed kick to the arm that made the man stumble back.

“This has nothing to do with you bug,” the man snarled, brandishing the weapon at Peter now and making him roll his eyes. “Don’t get in my way and I won’t have to use this on ya.”

“Spiders are arachnids actually, not bugs” Peter pointed out, shooing the stunned woman out of the alley and on her way out of any potential danger. “And how about you not stab anybody today huh? If you promise to behave I won’t web you to the wall and call the police. Sounds like a fair trade right?”

The man snarled at him with irritation. “You talk too much.”

“So I’ve been told,” Peter agreed easily with a nod. “But what do you say? Ready to give up your life of crime for the straight and narrow?”

“No,” the man grumbled and, with literally no warning, lunged forward and stabbed his knife directly into Peter’s gut.

They both stared at each other in stunned silence before Peter processed the pain with a loud ‘fuck!’.

“You motherfucker,” Peter grunted, backing away to lean against the wall, holding the knife still with one hand so as to not dislodge it. “I can’t believe you stabbed me!”

“I thought you would dodge! You always dodge!” The man said, reaching up both hands to dig into his hair. “I stabbed Spider-Man what the fuck!”

“God this is just-,” Peter grumbled using his free arm to fire webbing at the guy and secure him to the nearby dumpster. “I’ve gone three weeks without having to go to the MedBay! Three weeks! All I had to do was last one more and then I got to pick the movie at movie night for the next month! God I can’t believe it! Mr. Stark is going to be so insufferable now!”

“You could just… not tell him?” The man asked hopefully, not even bothering to struggle against the webs and Peter blew out a breath as he sank down to sit on the gritty ground – he was starting to feel a little cold and dizzy from either the blood loss or shock, he couldn’t tell which. Not that it mattered, his fierce anger overshadowed everything.

“Not an option,” Peter grunted, leaning his head back and closing his eyes against the helpful countdown timer Karen had started displaying the second Tony had entered the Iron Man armor and started jetting to him. “He already knows.” Curse the Baby-monitor Protocol! He and Ned would need to remove it again…

“He track you or something?” The man asked questioningly, head quirked to the side in obvious curiosity.

“Or something,” Peter agreed.

“That’s wack man,” he said. “An invasion of privacy. A, uh… violation of your constitutional rights as a free American!”

“Do you honestly think Tony Stark cares about an something as simple as an invasion of privacy? I’m lucky he hasn’t microchipped me yet,” Peter pointed out. Or, at least, he didn’t think Tony had microchipped him. He’d have to check that and remove it post haste if he found something.

“Dude,” knife guy said commiserating and Peter had to fight the eye roll. Of course the person who stabbed him felt remorseful now.

“I know,” Peter agreed, peering down at his side to look at where the knife was embedded into him. He was pretty good around blood as long as it wasn’t his own and, looking at the way his suit was slick and blood was beginning to pool under his thighs in a puddle made Peter lightheaded so he closed his eyes again. “He’s probably going to be pretty pissed at you by the way,” Peter warned. “He has pretty good lawyers so I wouldn’t have high hopes of getting out of this without jail time.”

The man groaned and Peter just shrugged. Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time and all that – also don’t stab people and leave them to the ministrations of their helicopter mentors. Same thing really. The sound of repulsers neared and Peter braced himself – he wasn’t looking forward to dealing with this.

“I guess that we can change the ‘Days Without Incident’ sign back to zero eh Spiderling?” Tony teased as he landed in the mouth of the alley, disengaging his suit and walking over to kneel next to Peter. “You were doing so good too – your longest streak ever in fact.”

“Don’t remind me,” Peter hissed as Tony prodded around the wound carefully with a pre-gloved hand. “Can you not touch that?”

“No can do buddy,” Tony said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “Gotta anchor it in so it doesn’t fall out on the ride back. Happy’s on his way to pick us up.”

“Oh great,” Peter groused, letting Tony lean him forward a little so he could start wrapping roll gauze around the knife. “He loves to complain when I get blood on the seats.”

“Only when you get impaled,” Tony said brightly, pulling the gauze tight almost vindictively and making Peter wince. “Wouldn’t want to deprive him now would we?”

“You could just let me bleed out and die here,” Peter suggested seriously. “Since my life is basically over now anyway.

“You’re such a dramatic little shit,” Tony groused, tying off the gauze and levering Peter up off the ground to slump into his side for the extra support. “Now say ‘goodbye’ to your friend, he won’t be seeing the real world for a long, long time,” Tony’s voice had an edge of steel as he said this, dragging Peter to the end of the alley and ignoring the muggers ‘Aw man, c’mon!” as they passed. Peter just shrugged a ‘what can you do?” and wiggled his fingers in a facsimile of a wave as he was pulled away.

Happy, to his credit, was efficient and must have already been in the area because he was quick to pull up with a surly look already cemented onto his face as he surveyed where Peter was leaning into Tony and dribbling blood onto the sidewalk in large, heavy droplets. “I already called the cleaning crew,” he told them through the open window. “They’ll be here before the police to scrub up any possible radioactive DNA.”

“Best forehead of security ever,” Tony crooned lovingly as he carefully situated Peter onto the pile of towels Happy had put into the backseat to soak up the blood and keep it off his leather seats. Happy glared at the both of them in the rearview mirror before rolling up the partition. Tony snorted in undisguised mirth.

“How you feeling kiddie?” He asked as he peeled Peter’s mask from his sweaty face. “Not going to pass out on me again right?”

“Uh…” Peter groaned, squeezing his eyes shut tight to stop the spinning and grey dots that were clouding his vision. “No promises. Sorry.” Tony just let out a put upon sigh like he expected as much and pushed Peter to lay down across the seats, grabbing one of the extra towels to press tightly around the knife and making Peter let out a whining moan at the pressure. “Yeah I might pass out,” he said faintly as his vision started to tunnel.

“Go on then,” Tony said, running a hand through Peter’s damp curls and smoothing them away from his face. “At least you don’t sass me when you’re unconscious.” Peter felt the man lift his legs to slid a few wadded up towels underneath… like that would actually help keep him awake.

“Rude,” Peter grumbled before losing his grip on reality – he trusted Tony to take care of things for now.

——————————————

“I hate this movie,” Peter grumbled groggily, as he pulled himself awake some time later. He was lying in one of the beds in the MedBay, attached to a blood transfusion and with a thick padding of gauze on his abdomen. Tony, seated next to him and munching on popcorn, just sent him a shit eating grin and held up the whiteboard that had been hanging in his workshop displaying ‘Days Without Incident’ with a large 0 written under it in obnoxious red ink.

“This is such bullshit,” Peter said petulantly, picking at the tape holding the IV in place. “I can’t escape! Go watch your garbage movie somewhere else.”

“Excuse me you brat,” Tony said imperiously. “The Breakfast Club is a cult classic thank you very much and besides,” he continued, offering Peter the bowl of popcorn, “someone clearly has to educate you on good movies.”

“I’m going back to sleep,” Peter said, flicking a kernel of popcorn playfully at his mentor (and missing damn – he must be on drugs) and letting his tired eyes slip closed again.

“Sore loser,” he heard Tony tease as he fell asleep and that did it. When he won their next bet they were marathoning the whole Star Wars series from beginning to end, including all of the Clone Wars and the Mandalorian, and he didn’t care what Mr. Stark said.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump20 #Prompt: Defiance #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

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blancheludis · 3 years ago

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@whumptober2021 Day 4: Taken Hostage / Pushed / “Do you trust me?”

Fandom: Batman Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd Tags: Hurt Tim Drake, Kidnapping, Protective Jason Todd, Accidental Brother Acquisition, Jason is Robin Words: 7.826

Summary: “Batman will come for you, right?” Tim only realizes that is the wrong thing to ask when Robin’s face falls.

“I don’t need Batman to get out of here,” Robin insists with a stubborn tension in his shoulders. “I’m just saying we don’t have to wait.”

Waiting is the thing Tim does best. For the perfect picture opportunity, the best angle. For his parents to come home. He can sit tight for hours and days and become all but invisible.

But Tim agrees anyway. Why wouldn’t he? Robin is a hero. His hero. And he’s lucky they were kidnapped together. Now they only have to get out this cell in one piece.

---

The shove comes out of nowhere.

Tim has gotten good at navigating Gotham’s rooftops nearly blind, a camera pressed to his face. He has also learned to make sure nobody is around to catch him. What he does is not strictly illegal, but he is taking pictures of vigilantes at night and enough people take offence at that. He is not wearing a mask himself, but he still cannot be found out here. His parents are already not happy that he has not given up photography – a mere waste of time that will neither get him into a prestigious college nor bring the Drake name any profits – even without knowing about his nightly activities.

The roof was empty when Tim climbed up on it to get a better angle of Robin. It is a rare enough occurrence that Robin is out alone without the protective shadow of Batman hovering nearby and Tim does not want to miss a minute of it. So, he is crouching on the roof, his camera trained on Robin, when someone appears suddenly next to him and shoves him over the edge.

A sound escapes Tim’s lips, half a gasp due to the force of the unexpected push, and in the brief second he is hovering in the air, he can see Robin look up searchingly – and then he is falling.

Tim has a lot of experience with falling, but he will never get used to that navel-jerking feeling of tumbling into the unknown, those first moments of blind panic at having lost the ground beneath his feet. He clings to his camera, curls like he was taught to, and hopes fervently that he will not break anything. Bruises are easy to hide and something he has dealt with dozens of times before. Broken bones, however, need a bit more than his first-aid kit has to offer – and cause more questions than he cares to answer.

The falling is over as soon as it began. He was not too high up but the impact is still painful. The crack of plastic thunders in his ears and that is what throws his momentum, makes him tense too much as he tries to save his camera, and he feels his ankle bend.

Pain flares up, sudden and hot, before he comes to a panting halt on the pavement, a sharp throbbing in his foot and right side. He just lies there for a long moment, afraid to move his ankle but glad that his lungs still work as they are supposed to. The roof above him is empty. Nobody is looking down after him.

But – Tim did not just fall from nothing, did not trip. Somebody was there and pushed him. Just as he is sitting up, determined to have a look at his camera and then his foot before he gets out of here, he hears footsteps coming closes.

“Well, what do we have here?” a muffled voice asks.

Tim whirls around, but all he can see is a fist flying towards his face. And then nothing.

---

Tim comes to slowly. That in itself is a warning sign that something is wrong. He has a rather conflicted relationship with sleep and he does not slumber. Either he is awake or not. This in-between is strange, making his thoughts all sluggish.

He blinks, his vision curiously blurry, and wonders about the cracks in the ceiling – and then the pain hits. A low, insistent pounding like drum beats fills his head, growing worse with every breath he takes as if the miniscule movement alone is aggravating it.

With a rush, Tim remembers what happened. The rooftop. Being shoved. The cracking of his camera.

He shoots upright, battling the way the room spins before his vision settles. Bile rises in his throat but he swallows carefully, unwilling to give into the panic rising inside him. Perhaps his father’s lessons will have their use, after all.

His ankle throbs, but Tim ignores it for now in order to find out where he is, because this is somewhere inside instead of outside in the streets, and he definitely did not make it home.

The room is small and bare. Cracks run through the grey cement covering the ground and walls and ceiling. There is no window, but a lone light bulb dangles in the middle of the room, offering a bit of light. The ground is stained in places, the origin of which Tim does not want to think too closely about. No furniture, just a heavy metal door and Tim himself being cuddled into a corner.

This is bad. If his father finds out what he was doing, why someone managed to snatch him right off the street – he hopes this is not a play for ransom. His parents are out of the country and the last thing he and his father did before they left were yell at each other. Tim is not at all sure they are willing to pay a single dollar to get him back. And if so, likely only to preserve the family name.

Of course, Tim does not want to think about what other reasons there are for someone to kidnap him. Children go missing from Gotham’s streets every day, and only a few of them are found again. Mostly, they do not have anything to look for them. Tim does not, either.

The pounding in his head grows worse. With some effort, Tim pushes the growing panic down. Before he gives up on himself, he should try to find out more.

Carefully, Tim gets to his feet. The room starts spinning again, which is rather worrying, but it snaps into sudden focus when he puts some weight on his right ankle. A whimper breaks over his lips, echoing hauntingly in the empty room, as he sinks back to the ground.

Don’t be broken, he thinks as he pushes up the leg of his trousers. The ankle is swollen and the pain intensifies when he applies pressure. When he is careful, though, he can move it in every direction and he cannot feel any bones obviously out of place. That does not have to mean anything, he knows. Ever since he started following the masks around, he read up on first-aid, aware of how many things can go wrong. Hopefully it is just a sprain, although that does not make it any less painful, and it might still mess his leg up for good.

Before Tim can convince himself to get back up and try again, he hears a key being shoved in the lock and then the door is yanked open, making a terrible screeching noise that grates in his ears. The light outside is much brighter, stabbing Tim’s eyes so he cannot make out much of anything as he scrambles backwards, trying to get away from whoever has entered the room. Something big is thrown in and then the door slams shut again without explanation.

The something is a person clad in yellow and green and –

“Robin.” Tim’s voice breaks halfway through the name. His mouth is suddenly dry and his thoughts come to an abrupt halt.

This has just become so much worse. Someone did not just push Tim off a roof just because they could or for ransom, but they got Robin, too. Either Robin wanted to help and was overpowered, or they were after him and Tim is just collateral damage. Either way, he is doomed. Because he is not hard to catch, crawling around the city at night to take pictures of vigilantes. But Robin is in an entirely different league.

Robin looks up at him, eyes wide behind the mask, then untangles himself into a more dignified position even though his suit remains rumpled. “Oh good, you’re awake.”

Tim does not know what could possibly be good about that if this is the reality he woke up to.

“What happened?” he hates how weak he sounds, how young. His father would have his hide for that – but his father is not here because Tim had to do something forbidden and get himself caught. He breathes. In and out. In and out.

Robin is here. That means not all is lost. If nothing else is certain, Tim knows that Batman will come for Robin and they will not leave him behind, even if they find out about the pictures. They are the good guys. They might tell his parents about it – which will undoubtedly not end well for him either – but they will not leave him to die in this place.

“These assholes want me to help them out.” Robin makes a rude gesture at the door, then looks a bit sheepish at Tim. “Sorry you got caught in the crossfire.”

A weight drops off Tim’s shoulders. It is not his fault that Robin was caught. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it does not sit right with him, still.

“They went after me first,” Tim says, remembering clearly that Robin was still free and unbothered while Tim was already falling. He might have even gotten it on camera, that last, searching look around at Tim’s yell. But his camera is not here. They might have left it broken on the ground when they took Tim. It is unlikely he will ever see it again.

It is stupid to be bothered by that. It is only a camera and he can afford to buy a new one. But it is the one thing that brings him joy.

“Yeah.” Robin runs a hand through his hair, putting it into complete disarray. “You’re supposed to be my motivation.”

Oh. “They took me hostage to make you help them?” Tim is no stranger to being pulled into other people’s games. His parents’ business partners do that all the time, either hoping to gain something for the company or to get some advantage over his parents. It is almost familiar, to be used for his worth to other people instead on his own merit.

“Seems like it,” Robin says and sounds apologetic. He is also watching Tim very closely as if he expects him to have a breakdown. But Tim has been taught to appear calm even if he feels anything but.

“That’s ridiculous. You don’t even know me.”

Tim should be glad. If all goes well and they do not die here, his parents might never find out what happened. He does not have to tell Robin his last name. He is just a nobody who had bad luck. Once they are out of here, he can just vanish. If they get out of here.

Robin cocks his head to the side, concern crossing his face. “You’re a civilian,” he explains then puffs out his chest and points at his suit. “That’s what this whole thing is about. Protecting people.”

Perhaps people who do not stalk them and take pictures without asking, who do not put themselves in danger constantly just because they are hoping for the right shot.

But Tim believes him anyway. He was raised by a cynic but he knows Robin. Knows him through endless nights of watching him do the right thing, of putting his life on the line for others.

“What do they want you to do?” Tim asks, changing the topic without much finesse.

He is also not sure he wants to know the answer to that. What if they are asking something terrible of Robin, like killing somebody. Tim cannot be the reason for Robin to do that.

But Robin scoffs, caught between amusement and annoyance. “Rob a bank or five.”

That is surprisingly mundane. Banks are robbed every day without the help of vigilantes. Some even successfully. “What do they need you for then?”

To his surprise, Robin pouts. “I could totally rob a bank, and probably better than them, too” he says, entirely missing the point.

Despite their situation, Tim finds himself grinning at Robin’s offended tone. He imagines him as some kind of modern Robin Hood, robbing a bank and then making it rain money right outside of it.

Then he sobers. They are still locked up in some cell and he has a busted ankle and a possible concussion. “Well, you shouldn’t do it.”

Robin’s expression grows serious, too. “They said they’d hurt you if I don’t,” he says in that same tone Tim’s father does when he is testing Tim, fishing for a reaction.

Now it is Tim’s turn to be offended. “You’re Robin,” he exclaims.

Robin nods but does not give an answer. Instead, he leans forwards, seemingly unconcerned with their situation. “What’s your name?”

Tim could lie. He is good at it and it would surely save him a lot of trouble. But it is not every day that one meets their hero and despite the circumstances, he wants this interaction between them to be real.

“Tim,” he says, hesitating long enough to make Robin frown. He still holds his last name back. That does not have a place here, and there is a small chance that Robin knows their next-door neighbours are called Drake and have a son named Tim, even though his life is certainly interesting enough to not bother with who is living down the street.

“Do you trust me, Tim?” Robin asks, his voice gentler now as if he does not want to spook Tim. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

With a start, Tim realizes Robin thinks he is afraid. Well, he is, but for the entirely wrong reasons. They are in a bad situation but it could be so much worse. For one, Tim could be here alone.

He nods because that seems like the thing to do. He is cold and in pain and his hero might be forced to commit a crime to keep him alive. While he is aware of all of that, he can barely touch those thoughts, like his head is underwater but he is seeing lights on the surface, jumping out of reach whenever he reaches for them.

Tim is fine. Beneath the mask, Robin is just a kid, too, and Tim will not make it harder on him by whining. Or panicking. That will not do either of them any good.

“Batman will come for you, right?” It is a mistake to ask, Tim notices that right away when Robin’s shoulders stiffen.

He does not understand. Batman and Robin are a team. They have each other’s back and, of course, one would come running when the other is in danger. Right?

“I don’t need Batman to get out of here,” Robin says, crossing his arms in front of him only to let them fall again a moment later.

That certainly puts a crack in Tim’s picture-perfect idea of his favourite vigilantes. He knows better than most that things are seldom as calm and shiny as they appear on the surface, but Batman and Robin – nothing is supposed to taint that.

“I’m sorry,” he says because he is not sure what else to do. His mother taught him that other people’s weaknesses are there to be exploited, but he does not want to be that kind of person.

Robin looks at him, then sighs. “No, you’re right.” He sounds conflicted, making him sound even younger. Like that, he is more human, mask or not, but that is not helpful in the situation they are in. “I’m just saying we don’t have to wait.”

Waiting is the thing Tim does best. For the perfect picture opportunity, the best angle. For his parents to come home. He can sit tight for hours and days and become all but invisible.

“I can’t fight,” Tim points out, afraid that he will be the reason Robin gets hurt, after all. He had some training, bullies and his family name made that a necessity, but he is no Robin, no hero.

“You don’t have to,” Robin says, full of conviction. “I’ll protect you.”

Tim wants to ask how but he has learned that too many questions only make things harder, at times. Instead, he offers, “You could pretend to be me.”

He is not sure where it comes from, but a plan is forming in front of his eyes. Tim is a bit smaller than Robin and a lot scrawnier, but people tend to look only at the suit. And they only needed a few moments to jump the kidnappers anyway. As soon as an actual fight begins, the ruse will be up.

“They’ll notice,” Robin scoffs. He does not quite dismiss Tim, but Tim knows that tone very well. It is hard not to let it get to him because some part of him desperately wants to impress Robin, but he has practice with that, too. “And what good would that bring us anyway?”

“We’ll swap clothes,” Tim explains, shamefully eager at the very idea of touching the suit. “They don’t think I’m a danger, so when they come back, they’ll go right for the suit and ignore you. So, you can take them by surprise.”

It is a good plan, or as good as they will likely get. They are locked in a windowless room that does not stop spinning before Tim’s eyes, and only one of them is really capable of getting them out if Robin does not want to wait for Batman – and Tim does not want to either, yearning for some pain meds, an ice pack and his bed. Taking the bad guys by surprise is their only chance, really. Otherwise, they are simply two children sitting in a trap.

“I’m Robin,” Robin insists as if Tim has forgotten that. As if, in addition to taking his clothes, he suggested stripping him of the title as well. “I can’t take off the mask.”

There is that, true. Tim opens his mouth to say Robin can keep the mask, that they will just keep their heads down until it is too late for the kidnappers to realize the wrong boy is in the suit. What falls from his lips instead is, “I know who you are.”

Robin moves quicker than Tim’s probably concussed brain can follow and then he is right in from of Tim, shoving him against the cold, unforgiving wall. The impact knocks the air out of Tim’s lungs and, before he can react, Robin’s arm is pressed against his throat, not quite choking him but a definite threat.

“What did you say?” Robin growls in a clear imitation of Batman, a few decades too young. It still causes a shiver to run down Tim’s back.

“I’m sorry,” he pushes out, only to have Robin increase the pressure. How did things go so wrong so quickly? He just – masks, secret identities. Tim has gotten so comfortable with following them around that he forgot nobody is supposed to know who they are. “I live next door to you,” he blurts out, not caring anymore about keeping his last name secret.

For the first time since waking up in this room, he is afraid instead of just panicked. When he started following Batman and Robin around, he knew he could never let them catch him. They might be the good guys, but they do have their identities to protect, and he has seen countless times what Batman does to the people that cross him. He did not even try to find out who they are. It just made sense.

“I haven’t told anyone,” Tim croaks, growing desperate when Robin does nothing but stare at him, never relenting his hold. “I won’t.”

“How?”

Tim whimpers when Robin shoves him again, aggravating his headache. This is not supposed to happen. He never thought Robin would like him, really, the kid with stalkerish tendencies, but he did not think meeting his hero would go quite like this either.

“I’m running BatWatch.”

That stupid blog that started as a challenge to himself but has quickly become the centre of Tim’s life, uploading pictures and commentary on Gotham’s very own vigilante bats. All complimentary, of course, because they protect the city and certain journalists just do not know what they are writing. Tim just tries to put the Bats back into a more positive light. Sometimes, it makes him feel like a hero in his own right. That is his secret identity.

After a long, tense moment, Robin’s hold loosens, even if he does not take the arm away. His expression is still closed off. “You? The blog has been around for years.”

Tim takes pride in that. It grew from a few blurry pictures every other week to detailed articles. People like to complain about Batman, and Tim just wants to remind people of all the good the vigilantes are doing.

“You’ve been Robin for years,” Tim shoots back, voice still more of a croak from the shock. He is not sure the danger is over.

Robin sits back. His hands are still on Tim but not quite as threatening anymore. That can change again any moment, Tim knows, so he clears his throat and just breathes.

“You know who Batman is and you never told anybody?” The incredulity in Robin’s tone is insulting, but Tim guesses a certain paranoia is part of the job.

“You’re heroes,” Tim exclaims and winces inwardly. That made him sound entirely too young. There is no hiding he is still a kid but he does not have to act immaturely, too.

“And you want me to believe it is a mere coincidence that you were in the right place to be kidnapped along with me?” Robin says, sarcasm dripping from his tongue, which Tim does not fully hear because his mind is stuck on right place. “How do I know you’re not working with them?”

The accusation hurts worse than the shove earlier, although it leaves him just as trapped. “I would never,” Tim says and glares in the best imitation of his mother as he can manage.

Feeling, cornered, he bats Robin’s hands away with what little strength he has left, pain and disappointment having taken their toll. To his surprise, Robin lets him go. He gets up and ignores the way his vision swims and the pain in his ankle flares up. There is nowhere to go. The room is still bare and the door is still locked. But he needs to get away from Robin and his accusations, so he limps to the far corner and sinks rather ungraciously back to the floor.

Somewhere in the depth of his mind, he can hear his father laugh at his naivety. What did he think would happen? That Robin would be impressed? That he would expect a scrawny teenager to be good for anything? He had been dreaming about meeting Robin for years but – well, he should have listened better to what his parents say about dreams.

“You’re hurt,” Robin says, sounding sheepish.

Tim glances over his shoulder and sees that Robin stood up, too, but he thankfully does not come closer. In fact, he looks a bit lost, all suited up with no way to escape.

“It’s nothing,” Tim mutters, looking back at the wall. A crack runs through it right in front of his face. He imagines digging here and finding nothing but more cement. A grave in the middle of the city.

“You were limping.”

What does that have to do with anything? “Just a strain.” And definitely a concussion. He should better not mention that, he is already enough of a liability.

“We can’t get out of here if you can’t walk,” Robin says, sounding almost agitated, but when Tim looks at him it does not show on his face.

So, this is how it is. He knows this game very well. “Then you had better leave me behind. That’s safer anyway if I’m one of them.”

That cutting tone is from his mother. Any other time, he would hate how much of his parents he recognizes in himself, but it does come in handy every now and then. Although it does not bring him any satisfaction to watch Robin flinch. Tim is the faulty one here, the obstacle to overcome. It is better to just take him out of the equation.

He does not want to be left behind, of course. Chances are low that the kidnappers will simply let him go when they do not need him anymore. And he has no particular desire to find out where Gotham’s lost children end up.

“I’m – I won’t leave you here.” Robin has come closer, looking down at Tim with a seriousness that hurts.

Tim smiles, but it feels all wrong, hollow yet sharp at the edges. It should not surprise him that he does not measure up. Just because he looks up to Robin does not mean that Robin will find anything worthwhile when looking back. Something about him always turns people away, he is never quite enough.

“They won’t need me once you’re gone,” Tim points out and does not say that he is very aware that this will likely end with a bullet in his head. It is not like he can change that. He is tired and, for once, wants nothing more than to go home – without putting Robin in more danger.

Silence stretches between them for a long moment in which Tim thinks he really is doomed. Then Robin says, “Come,” his jaw set with new determination. “I’ll need your clothes.”

Tim does not move, even as Robin begins to take off the suit, no trace of hesitation left in his movements. In the privacy of his mind, Tim has longed for years to wear the Robin colours. But not like this, not here, not when the real Robin has already made his judgement of Tim.

“What about the mask?” Tim asks quietly, intent on reminding Robin what a stupid idea this is.

“I can’t let them see my face, so I’ll keep it on,” Robin says matter-of-factly, as if this very problem did not end in a physical altercation only minutes before. “But you can stay with your back to the door and I’ll jump them before they can notice anything.”

That is what Tim thought they should do earlier, but now he is full of doubt. Turning his back to the door alone fills him with uneasiness. He might not be a fighter, but it feels wrong to serve himself on a silver platter, too. And, since Tim is the hostage in this scenario, what if they do not go for Robin, which would squander their element of surprise. What if Robin will not be able to deal with whoever is coming for them? What if there are too many opponents? What if –

“Hey.” Suddenly, Robin is right in front of Tim, one hand on Tim’s shoulder and blatant concern on his face. “I’ll get you out of here. I promise.”

Tim takes a deep breath, concentrates on the ground beneath him and the warmth from Robin’s hand and even the way his ankle throbs. The situation is not ideal, but he is alive and mostly intact. He is not alone.

He believes Robin. What would life be if he could not trust his hero anymore? Robin helps people. It is his job.

But Tim has been following Batman and Robin around for a bit too long. He has seen them share street food during long patrols. He has watched Robin jump around in circles around Batman when bored and limp home after a bad fight. Beneath the mask, Tim knows very well, is just a boy not much older than him. Jason Todd, child of Gotham’s darkest streets, full of foul words and endless bravado.

This is not a heroic story. Tim is not behind the camera taking pictures. He is not a bystander, sequestered safely away on a rooftop. This is real. And Tim might have dreamt of himself as Robin – or at least as Robin’s sidekick – but not like this. He is acutely aware of how inadequate he is.

And yet, Tim nods. If he knows anything, it is how to pretend, how to keep his head held high. His hands, when he unzips his jacket, are shaking. If Robin notices, he does not comment on it. That makes it easier, if only slightly.

It is hard not to stare as the Robin suit lands piece by piece on the ground, rumpled and nearly unassuming, just flimsy looking material in too bright colours. The shaking gets worse as Tim reaches for it, but he does not allow himself to hesitate. It is now or never.

The suit does not quite fit. Tim is too small and too scrawny. Worse is the way his skin burns, touching something forbidden. He guesses he will not have those dreams of being Robin anymore, considering how miserable he feels while pretending for even just a moment.

“You look good,” Rob- Jason says. Because in Tim’s clothes he looks altogether too young, just another boy stranded in a bad situation. Tim cannot detect any condescension in his tone.

Still, Tim scoffs and avoids looking down at himself. “Let’s hope it fools them.”

He would be surprised if it does. He certainly feels like a bad impostor, radiating his uneasiness for everybody to pick up.

Robin opens his mouth, doubtlessly to tell Tim some more reassuring lies, but Tim turns away, effectively cutting him off. He just wants to get this over with.

He lies down on the ground, trying for a posture that is not too conspicuous while still allowing Jason to blend into the background. Even though all his instincts scream that it is wrong, he turns his back to the door.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jason put his hood up and mess up his hair until his face is shrouded in shadows and the mask is not so obvious anymore.

And then, they wait.

Or, rather Tim plans to wait. Jason apparently does not deal too well with silences because he first shifts around impatiently, then huffs. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “Hey, Tim –”

“I’m fine,” Tim cuts him off. This is his one-in-a-lifetime chance of being cooped up with Robin, but talking did not turn out too well before, and he would rather not make things worse. “You don’t need to keep asking.”

It is also not a lie. The pain in both his ankle and his head have dulled to a low throbbing and the panic is under control. He is aware this will change once they are moving again, but for now everything is all right.

Jason hums, clearly not believing him, but then he says, “Actually, I wanted to know why you never said anything.”

Tim closes his eyes briefly. “About what?”

“Who we are. If you knew all this time.” Of course, Jason will not let this go. Perhaps he has a right to, considering how carefully Batman has hidden his identity all these years.

“It’s a secret.” Tim cranes his neck to stare at Jason. He admires Robin and would never endanger him like that. But if Jason is still not fully convinced Tim is not working with the enemy here, his doubt should be expected.

But then Jason asks, “Why didn’t you talk to us?” His tone is way too innocent for such a loaded question.

Tim is silent for a long moment. The truth would be that he did not want anyone to stop him from going out at night, but he can hardly say that. Jason Todd might understand the lack of parental supervision that lets Tim do as he pleases, but as Robin, he might ask questions that Tim really does not want to answer. And Batman surely would not let that stand. He is happy with things as they are. Getting a glimpse of all the excitement from afar is enough.

He gives a one-shouldered shrug. “You have better things to do.” Better than indulging Tim’s stupid dreams.

He feels Jason’s stare on his back but does not look up again. “Well, what if someone kidnapped you and made you tell them?”

The veiled accusation sits like hot coals in Tim’s stomach. He wants to snap back, say that nobody would kidnap him. But the very fact that he is sitting in a locked room with Robin right at this moment makes that argument void.

“I’m sorry,” Jason says when Tim does not answer. He should not apologize when he is right.

Footsteps come closer, effectively cutting their conversation off. Saved by the very real possibility of being killed, Tim thinks and tries to relax his tense muscles.

The door opens with the same screeching protest as before and Tim feels woefully unprepared. All he has to do is lie here and let the real Robin do the work and yet his hands start shaking again.

“Have you thought about our offer, little birdie?” a voice asks, sounding too close for comfort already. “Or do we need to make the kid scream?”

Don’t go to Jason, Tim thinks fervently, even as he forces himself to keep his face turned away. The entire game will be up before they can even make the first move if they recognize him.

There is another set of footsteps, perhaps two, but Tim cannot look up. He has to give Jason the chance to get them out.

“Ignoring us won’t –” The man cuts off with a grunt and Tim looks up just in time to see him doubling over while Jason whirls around him, using his leg as a ladder to jump up and kick at the second guy before punching the first in the temple with his elbow. The man goes down like someone cut his strings.

All Tim can do is try to not get crushed and watch as Jason never loses momentum but makes short work of the other two men. It is over so quickly that Tim is left with too much adrenaline in the sudden silence, his heart beating as loud as a war drum and his hands balled into fists he thankfully did not have to use.

“Yes,” Jason exclaims. His grin is very much out of place but Tim still finds himself answering in kind. He did not even do anything and yet he feels victorious. “The credit goes to you, of course, since it was your idea.”

Tim wants to say that they are not yet out of here, but his face heats up and he lets his eyes drop. Looking at the unconscious men is better than to meet Jason’s undeserved praise.

“I mean it, Tim,” Jason adds, putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “You were already thinking up plans while I wasted time on being angry. You kept a cool head. Not everybody could.”

The warmth from Jason’s hand and words spreads right into Tim’s core. They should not just stand around but get going but Tim cannot help himself. He does not get compliments like this, barely does anything worth noticing. Even ignoring the whole kidnapping, this is a night he will never forget.

“We should make sure they won’t be able to follow us,” Tim says, still feeling the glow in his cheeks. “And we should probably change clothes again.” Silently, he prays Jason will agree that there is no time for that. Even just pretending, the suit is a comfort now that they survived the first hurdle of getting out of here.

“Let’s stay like this. The colour suits you.” Jason winks but gets serious a moment later. He leans forward and fishes two pairs of handcuffs out of a pocket of the suit. “Put these on two of them. I’ll take care of the third.”

It is strange to move the unconscious bodies, even though they are definitely breathing. There is not even blood. Tim hurries to finish the task and then watches Jason string up the last guy with his own shoelaces.

“Ready to go?” Jason asks as he gets to his feet, looking strangely energetic for someone in their position. “I think I know the way out, so follow after me. We’ll try to avoid running into any more of these idiots.”

So, there are more. Their victory quickly turns sour at this reminder that they have not yet escaped. But Tim nods. He is very much out of his depth and really, really glad he is not alone.

At the door, Jason pauses again. “Will you be okay with your ankle?” Concern passes over his face and he looks Tim up and down as if he considers carrying him.

“I’m fine,” Tim says quickly. He will not slow them down and he will not make this harder on Jason. It is bad enough that he had to be rescued.

When Jason turns away, thankfully believing him, Tim takes a probing step. His ankle hurts and he knows it will only get worse from here on out. But he stands by his word. He will manage. Once he is safely at home, he can put some ice on it and recover. And home is so much more within reach now.

Jason hurries ahead, light-footed and with the easy elegance of a fighter. Following after him, Tim feels clumsy and loud. He closes the door to their cell and then looks cautiously down the hall. It looks identical on both sides but Jason never hesitates over which way to choose. That has to be enough.

They make it out without issue. Tim’s chest hurts as if he held his breath the entire time until they finally step out into the night air. He breathes and feels a smile spread on his face. They did it.

Jason touches his elbow briefly, motioning him to keep walking. Of course, they are not out of danger yet. So, Tim follows, down dark streets then up to the roofs. It is different to walk Gotham next to Robin, even if Tim is still the one wearing the suit. It feels like nothing in this city can touch them.

The throbbing in his ankle has turned into a constant burning. He does not say anything, though. It is still manageable and they are not yet safe. Still, he is glad when Jason is finally content with how far they have come and signals Tim to stop.

“How’s the foot?” Jason asks and reaches out for it almost as soon as they are sitting down.

Out of instinct, Tim withdraws. He is not used to being coddled, so they do not need to start now. “It’s fine.” At Jason’s blatantly unbelieving look, he adds, “I’ll put some ice on it and it’ll be right as rain.”

Jason clearly does not like that. “We should do an x-ray, just to be sure.”

“No hospitals,” Tim refuses immediately, the vehemence in his voice biting. If his parents find out about this they will never again let him set a single foot out their house unchaperoned.

And since they got out without anybody learning who Tim is, chances are good that he can keep this entire night secret. His parents will likely not come back before his ankle is healed, and even so he could lie to them. A sudden hospital visit, on the odder hand, is not so easily explained away.

Jason narrows his eyes but wisely does not decide to ask about the hidden implication. “We’ve got all we need at home.”

With home Jason means the manor. Bruce Wayne’s manor. Or even the rumoured Batcave.

“I can’t go home with you.” The mere thought has his brain sputtering to a halt. He needs to go to his own house, sort out his ankle and concussion, and then probably look for something else to take photos of. Batman cannot be made aware that he has a stalker, especially not a kid running around rooftops at night. “And you can’t tell anybody about me.”

He is not making a very good case for himself here, Tim realizes, feeding into Jason’s suspicions about him.

“I feel like that’s my line.” With a pointed look, Jason asks, “Is anybody even waiting for you at home?”

Tim hates the way his shoulders straighten automatically. Jason has no reason to suspect that his home life is anything but orderly and normal. Apart from him being out alone at night. Plenty of children do that, certainly, sneaking out of their window with no one being the wiser. They would not want their parents to find out. Nothing here indicates that Tim’s parents are away from home more often than they actually sleep in their own beds or that Tim has been managing his own life without anybody’s input for years. Nothing indicates that, one of these days, Tim’s father will run out of patience and beat some sense into him instead of just shouting and throwing things, or that his mother’s disappointment in him will simply grow too much to bear and she will not come home at all anymore.

Tim plasters a smile on his face and rolls his eyes. The effort is wasted, certainly, but appearances must be upheld. “I very much hope they’re not waiting because then they’d know I snuck out.” If he times it right, he will even miss the housekeeper who’s coming in the next day, and then he will have all the time in the world to sort himself out.

Jason does not believe him. He stares at Tim, looking suddenly much older than his years. He mutters something under his breath that sounds like “How do you do this, Alfred?”, but Tim does not know who Alfred is or what he has to do with this, so he ignores it.

Finally, Jason nods, even if he does not look happy about it. “I’ll bring you home.”

Tim already told him that he is living next door, but that does not mean he wants Jason to come. “You can’t –”

But Jason shakes his head, interrupting him. “I’ll drop you off outside your door, then we’ll exchange numbers. And you will call me if you need anything.” It sounds like a threat more than an offer of help.

Tim should be elated. He has met his hero, got out of their adventure together more or less intact, and he gets Robin’s number out of it, even if he already knows he will never use it. He also got to wear the Robin suit, no matter the reason.

“We should change our clothes,” Tim says because he will not be tricked into going to the Wayne house after all because they put this off.

He realizes his caution was right when Jason starts grinning. “Oh, no,” he exclaims far too happily. “You will keep that on and I’ll pick it up tomorrow when I check in on you.”

Check in – the only person checking in on Tim is the housekeeper, who is paid handsomely for it and for not telling anybody that Tim’s parents are constantly out of the country. “You don’t need to check in on me,” Tim says, barely able to comprehend the concept. “I’m perfectly fine.”

He is. Or he will be if only people stopped putting their noses into his business.

“It’s non-negotiable, Tim” Jason says and cocks his head. “Now, do you want to stay stubborn and let me carry you or can I call someone to drive us?”

Neither of these, Tim thinks. Especially because the only one Jason would call that Tim can think of is Batman. Then again, Jason did not sound so eager to have Batman come for them, earlier, so perhaps that is an empty threat.

“You don’t have to carry me,” Tim says pointedly but does not make a move to get up. He will when they get going again. Until then, he is happy to rest.

Jason clicks his tongue. “I’m not going to let you limp,” he says as if that is the worst thing that happened this night. “And to stop your next argument, they guy who’ll pick us up knows all about the suit.”

So, not Batman? But it does not matter. He is fine, and he really cannot have anyone else see him and find out about this night. “I can –”

“Listen, Tim,” Jason cuts him off and puts that damned hand back on Tim’s shoulder as if he knows how grounding that is. “I’m not the motherly type. That’s what we’ve got Dick for. But this was a stressful night and you’re hurt. Let me please make sure that you get home in one piece.”

He sounds earnest, but also like he is reaching the end of the rope. And Tim does not want that. It was a stressful night. “Fine.” If he is honest with himself, giving in is a relief because he really does not want to get back to his feet and his vision is still swimming, although he better not even hint at that if he wants to get Jason off his back. If he is that concerned about a busted ankle, he will definitely not let Tim out of sight if he learns about the possible – definite – concussion.

“Great, I knew you’d see reason.” Jason claps his hands and gets to his feet, seemingly not at all tired. “Now, let me make a call and then you can give me your number.”

Tim hums and leans back, desperate to just rest his eyes for a moment. His heart is still beating too quickly, not yet reassured that the danger is over. He listens to Jason talk on the phone and then to him telling some stories about too big manors with perfect banisters. Tim wishes he could take a picture of this moment, the two of them on this roof, but his camera was lost somewhere in that basement or on the way there. He will grieve for it tomorrow. Right now, he is just glad that he is alive, happy to let Jason talk and bask in the surrealism of this night.

Perhaps he dreamt this whole thing up. Exhaustion might have caught up with him and he slipped at home, hit his head. Perhaps – but then Jason nudges him awake and says, “Alfie’s here.”

They climb down the roof and into a car and the old man who introduces himself as Alfred has the warmest concerned expression that Tim has ever seen.

No, he decides, this was real. He is in the Robin suit and tomorrow Jason will visit him and pretend to believe whatever lies Tim will make up about his parents. Swimming in the exhausted void left behind by too much adrenaline, Tim grins at Jason, carefree and just happy to be alive. With a conspiratorial glint in his eyes, Jason grins back.

Yes, very much real.

#whumptober2021 #no.4 #do you trust me?#batman #fanfiction #tim drake #jason todd #jason is robin #hurt tim drake #My writing

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kimistorm · 3 years ago

Text

Thanks for Listening (Doctor Strange x Reader Part 10)

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Doctor Strange x fem! Reader

Series: It’s all a Little Strange, Chapter 10 Masterlist

You were sitting in front of Daniel’s tomb. The weather was falsely bright and sunny. Part of you was saying that you should go spar with Stephen. The other part was telling you to rest and let yourself heal. However, you were in front of Daniel’s tomb. Mourning his death. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything. I was there. I could’ve used my element of surprise. I could’ve fought harder.” Tears were slowly falling down your face as you cried for your friend, “believe it or not, Stephen has actually been rather nice to me. I think we’re finally starting to see eye to eye. He got the Cloak of Levitation.” You wiped your tears away with your hand and fell into silence.

“Thanks for listening. You’ve always been my best friend who’s always there for me. I wish I told you that when you were still alive.” You tried to smile but it proved to be a fruitless effort, “I hope you’re in a better place.” You continued to sit there. In front of his tombstone. You couldn’t find the energy to get up and do anything.

“I thought I’d find you here.” You jumped and spun around to see Stephen.

“Oh.” You turned back to the stone, “leave me alone.”

There was movement next to you and Stephen sat down next to you, “you can’t just sit around and do nothing (f/n).”

“Who says I can’t?” you tried to retort but it was a sad retort without much venom behind it.

“There’s a war going on (f/n). You wouldn’t want Daniel to die for no reason, would you? It’s our job to finish the war. Don’t let him die in vain.”

You shook your head, “sorry to disappoint.”

“(f-”

“Go away Strange. I don’t want you here.”

“What happened (f/n)?” he asked and it sounded like he was hurting inside, “what changed? I thought we were starting to be friends.”

“You want to know what?” you turned and looked at him, “I’m angry at you Stephen. All my life I’ve been working and training to use a relic, and here you are in your glory. You’re able to use the Eye of Agamotto no problem! You’ve even convinced the Cloak of Levitation to be your relic! Where am I? I’m just a nobody who doesn’t even have a relic.”

“Oh. I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“So am I.” You redirected your attention to the still stone in front of you, “I need time to mourn Stephen. So can you please go away.”

You didn’t see his conflicted face before he asked, “can I tell you something?”

“Hasn’t stopped you before.” You scoffed.

There was a pause and you turned to look at him, “this could totally shake everything you know.”

“I don’t want to know. I’m already hurting, I don’t need anything more.”

“Okay,” he quietly answered and stood up, “I’ll be sparring with Mordo if you need me.” There was the crunching of boots on gravel and you knew he was gone.

You let your head rest on the cold stone, “what should I do?”

✯✯✯

You were still sitting in front of Daniel’s tombstone. You hadn’t moved since Stephen had left you. You heard boots on gravel again, “go away Stephen.”

“(f/n).”

“Oh,” you turned around when you realized it wasn’t Stephen’s voice, “I’m sorry Wong. I thought you were Stephen.”

“We’re preparing to defend the Hong Kong Sanctum. Are you coming?” he asked.

“I don’t know Wong,” you looked away from him, “I’m not really at peak performance.”

“You’re an excellent fighter, we need you on our side. You know what will happen if we lose Hong Kong.” He persuaded.

Wong was also one of your closer friends and you respected him a lot. It was hard to argue against him. “Fine,” you relented and stood up, but your legs collapsed underneath you since they had fallen asleep from you sitting down for who knows how long. Luckily, Wong was there to catch you.

“We won’t let Kaecilius win this war.” He whispered.

You nodded, “I’m right with you.” Wong led the way to the door that led to the Hong Kong Sanctum. It was already open and people were going through the door to prepare for the fight.

“Choose your weapons wisely!” he shouted to the people in the room. He picked up the Wand of Watoomb. Then picked up another relic and handed it to you.

“Is this-?” you looked at the two hollowed disks in your hands with the s stretching across the empty center.

“A chakram relic?” Wong finished your sentence and you nodded, “yes.” You looked at it in awe. “No one steps foot in this Sanctum!” Wong commanded and spun around his wand dramatically, “no one.” The people quickly dispersed outside of the building to be in ready fighting positions.

“He’s here.” You whispered to Wong as you saw the bright light that signified a portal and followed him to confront Kaecilius as he approached the Sanctum.

“Kaecilius.” Wong warned.

“You’re on the wrong side of history, Wong.” Kaecilius warned and lunged at him. The street exploded into fighting and you and Wong fought Kaecilius. “Oh I remember you,” he mused, “weren’t you stabbed?”

You spun the chakram at him and at the last moment spikes protruded out of the side which took both you and Kaecilius by surprise. He smiled, “you’ve never used this relic before, have you?” you faltered at his grin and took a scared step back.

“Back off!” Wong yelled and hit his wand at Kaecilius.

“There’s only three of them, we can do it!” you shouted words of encouragement.

“That’s what you think.” Kaecilius smiled. The building behind you suddenly burst open and Dormammu emerged from the broken building. “Oh no!”

Kaecilius started to cackle triumphantly, “there’s nothing you can do now! Earth belongs to Dormammu now!”

“If we defeat him, might we be able to stop this?” you asked Wong.

“There’s a very small chance it’ll work.”

“A small chance is better than no chance.” You ran at Kaecilius with your chakrams and Wong went around. You dodged multiple of his punches but each one of your hits was successfully dodged by Kaecilius as well.

“Weak.” He snarled and grabbed your arm and threw you at a crumbling building. You hastily put up a shield above you but your leg got crushed by a piece of cement. You screamed at the pain and your shield went down, along with the rest of the building on top of you.

Masterlist

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astrablossom · 4 years ago

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The Purple Otaku Stalker

Fandom: Shall We Date? Obey Me!

The otaku with purple hair keeps following you around after you befriend him. You decide to confront him in a alleyway.

Originally Posted on Ao3

Warnings: mild dubcon, foot job, orgasm denial, stalking, exhibitionism, degrading kink

It has a good ending don’t worry.

High school AU

There is always that one weird nerdy kid that sits in the back of the classroom with his head glued in some manga. On lunch breaks he'll watch porn on his phone with the brightness turned down low, secretly hoping someone will catch him. And sometimes in class he'll find a way to read hentai and doujinshi in class which is probably why he's always sporting a boner. One time he fingered himself in the bathroom fantasizing that someone was watching him, belittling him with their eyes as he came all over the bathroom tiles.

Often times people whisper about him, how he's so weird and disgusting and he's so used to it. He'll get odd looks and glare in group projects. One day you take pity on him and when you walk up to talk to him, you'll notice how petrified he is.

"P-People will be grossed out if you talk to me. Don't you care about your reputation?" He manages to blurt out one day when you drop your lunch box beside him. At the time you two were working on a project. When you turn look down to respond you immediately notice how he squeezes his legs together under the desk hoping his erection wasn't too obvious. Levi looks under his purple bang to see you shaking your head and his eyes go straight from your face, to your chest, and then your crotch. Will you tell on him to the teacher? Are you disgusted at his hunched over sweaty form? The thought of it alone brought a flush to his face.

Your voice knocks him out of his fantasy. "You truly are perverted but I don't care. Besides I want to talk to someone else." You grab a chair and sit beside him and that's how he starts to crush on you.

The two of you don't talk often and it usually you who initiate the conversation but he's a good listener. You're kind enough to listen to him rant about anime every now and then, replying if your in the fandom. It was really nice and he found his himself slowly opening up to you and not just because you had a nice face. After a while you notice how his eyes follow wherever you go. Even when the otaku is nowhere to be seen you always feel like someone is watching you. And whenever you two talk his cheeks are always a cute strawberry red. If you're close to him you can hear how deep he is breathing.

When his crush passes by (you) he starts to sweat more than usual and ducks away from your sight, his heart pounding in his chest and his erection so so obvious. He peeks over to see you bending down to pick up something and immediately made a beeline to the bathroom. Ever since that day he masturbated more often and in more public places just to see your face. He knew he was disgusting and that it was wrong but he couldn't help him. He adored you. During class when you stood to read he rubbed one out to your voice. Whenever he was reading a hentai about someone being fucked he thought of you. He wanted to be dominated by you, he wanted to be the one who made you moan, to be the person to be with you.

But he also wanted to hold a decent conversation.

As the days go by the stalking increases and you start to notice. In the corner of your eye you'll occasionally catch a glimpse of purple shifting. It was annoying you to the point you decided to do something about it. You knew enough about Levi and what he liked after searching through his search history, making fun of him about not deleting it.

So you decided to confront him about the stalking on a Friday. The two of you were heading to your house and look up at the taller boy to admire his features.

Leviathan was taller that you and the black school uniform he wore only brought more attention to lanky form. His bangs curved gently over his eyebrows, obscuring his eyes a bit from view. Your eyes trail down to his thin pretty pink lips and for a moment you wanted to kiss them.

Another time, you think to yourself before suddenly stopping and grabbing Levi. He immediately blushes at the sudden hand holding and goes to ask you where you're going when you walk off path. You don't answer him until a a gap in between two nearby buildings appear. The streets were busy but no one paid no mind to two high schoolers entering a alley.

The alley way was mostly vacant save for the litter tumbling about. Ignoring Levi calling out your name, you drag him till his back is pushed against the brick wall. It was still daytime so if someone were to look down here they could probably see you two.

"Y-you-" he looks down stunned at the peeved expression on your face. Your arms were crossed and the disgusted look he was so used from others looked amazingly well on your face.

"I should've listen to my friends." You press a pointed finger to his chest and speak in a very low tone. "You've been stalking haven't you?" You're greeted with silence and don't hesitate to raise a hand against Levi's face. The sound of your hand colliding with his cheek was sharp, echoing along with his gasp in the alleyway. His head snapped to the left from the impact and already a pink handprint was swelling on his cheek. The otaku's eyes start to bubble up but your quick to step on his shoe. Hard. You half expected him to cry out in pain but instead you were greeted with a low moan.

"I-Im so sorry" he begins and you can't help but feel slightly amused at his cowering form. You truly had control over him and at that realization warmth spreads through your body. "I don't deserve your friendship at all. I'm just a shitty, shut in, perverted otaku..."

It was quiet for a moment and you lick your lips out of arousal. "I see you're finally learning your place Levi." His head snaps at the sound of him name and you grin before demanding him to sit on the gravelly cement. Like a dog.

Unsurprised that he does as he's told you take note of the situation. It was late in the evening and technically you were still on school grounds. Not to mention this was illegal. The sound of traffic and people passing by made it very clear you could be caught at anytime but you figured you both were far enough in the alley to not be seen. Levi watches you look behind your back before turning your attention to him. He suck your teeth.

"Spread your legs pervert." He frowns not out of disapproval but out of embarrassment as he slowly spreads his legs, again his erection struggling against his uniform. You cross your arms and take on a more neutral expression before demanding him to show him your cock. At that he starts to fluster.

"Wait! I've never done-" he stops short when you stomp your foot down right on his crotch. The seering pain was enough to make the corner of his eyes prick with tears. He toss his head back against the brick wall, holding back a small moan. It took everything in him to not flat out cum on himself.

"Shut that filthy mouth of yours up." He lets out a undignified squeal at the authoritative tone you possessed. "Did I say you can speak? You're opinion does not matter." You twist your left foot over his erection, pushing a groan out the male. There was something exhilarating about being in command over someone so willing. It brought a smile to your face.

Levi watched the smile creep on your face and slowly moves his hand towards your shoe. He stares with keening eyes, begging silently for you to lift the pressure off of him. You do so and he's quick to undo his zipper, pulling his pants and Ruri-chan boxers down so his cock can flop out into view. Just knowing that you were staring at his cock with such concentration made it throb even more.

His dick wasn't nothing extraordinary nor was it lacking. It was pale save for the tip and you couldn't see any veins from where you were standing. It even had a cute little curve to it. You tip your head further to notice that the carpet indeed match the drapes. You snort loudly so he can hear and you back up a bit from him.

Levi watches silently as you press your left foot on your right shoe, lifting a cotton clad foot out of it. His eyes widen and he looks up at you as you step closer. Only then was he highly aware that you two were in public. And for a more he hesitated even though this was a dream come true.

"Do you want this Leviathan?" He blinks. "What?" He flinches for speaking without permission but you shake your head again.

You spoke in a low but very serious tone as you trail your foot scarily close to his begging erection. "If you don't want this then tell me right now and I'll stop." You lean over his head waiting for a answer. Instead Levi gives you a very nervous smile. Heat rises to your cheek at how bashful he looked with those purple bangs covering part of his face.

"I wouldn't have done this with anyone else." That was all you needed to hear. Truth be told you would speak to Levi about the stalking later, perhaps punish him more strictly but right now your number one priority was making said boy wriggle and tremble under your jurisdiction. The laughter of chiildren passing by made a shiver run down your spine as you press a foot against his cock, wiggling your clothed toes against it before moving it up and down experimentally.

Levi was touched by your permission to consent and was more excited when you began your ministrations, huffing softly when your warm foot touched his cock. The cotton was so warm from your blessed skin, the rough exterior from the fabric made his buck his hips.

"A-ah..." he softly calls out your name when you press your big toe against the tip, curling it and pushing down till his cock bended against his school jacket. He pays close attention to you. Your face was still stoic but he notes how closely knit your brows were and how your lips were slightly turned up at the corner. He groans lowly into the vacant alley when you press your heel against his balls. You've just started but he wasn't sure how long he could hold on. This was nothing compared to the videos he watched.

Occasionally he would see you turning your head back to see if anyone was coming. No one looked towards you two and once more you apply more pressure to his cock, basking in how his body arched into your hold. Another wanton moan came from his cute lips and you hiss at him.

"Do you want to get caught? Do you get off at the fact that you're sitting on cold hard cement while I stand over you rubbing my foot against your disgusting cock? How amusing." His cheeks become a deeper shade of red as soft delicate moans of your name rolls off his lips like the sweetest thing ever. You purr his name out and he must've died and gone to heaven. The familiar fuzzy feeling of an approaching orgasm was coming near and his hips were quivering faster too.

"Do you like it when I step on you?"

He nods.

"Do you want to cum all over my sock?" Another delayed nod. And you give him the most sweetest smile you could muster before pulling your foot away at the very moment he needed to cum. He hiccups in mild agitation at his denial orgasm and looks up at you with glassy eyes.

"Too bad." You bend to reach for your shoe, slipping it back on listening to him whimper for your attention.

You spoke dismissively to him although you expression betrayed your strict persona. "We'll finish this at my place. Unless you have something better to do." Not waiting for a reply you turn around and walk away back into the eye of the public slowly catching your breathe.

The facade immediately drops and in your mind your screaming at the fact that you actually went ahead and did that. You were turned on beyond belief. The feeling of dominating Levi was fresh to you and you can't help but curl your foot in your shoe. His cock felt amazing under you.

How would it feel inside your mouth? Or maybe somewhere lower? The sound of Levi moaning you name is drilled forever in your ears. The sight of him babbling and nearly crying over you make the hairs on your arms stand. You wanted more. So much more.

Did this make you a bully? Were you twisted for getting so aroused by him crying underneath you? You were so lost in your thoughts you didn't hear someone calling your name until you feel a timid tug on your jacket. You look up to Levi staring down at more shyly than usual. His cheeks were still pink and his bookbag was suspiciously covering his torso.

"I'm sorry for stalking you..." he murmurs softly. "B-But I really enjoyed your company. I'm not- " he takes a small breathe and continues. “I'm not really good at words so I completely understand if you never want to talk to a incompetent-" you stretch a hand to squish his cheeks. His lips squish together and he looks down at you with confusion. Smiling you let go off his face before taking his hand. He starts to stutter and you lean in closer, pressing yourself against his chest.

"After your spanking we can talk more. How's that sound?"

#shall we date? obey me #shall we date obey me #obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me fandom #obey me fanfic #shall we date leviathan #leviathan x mc #leviathan x reader #obey me smut #ao3 smut #ao3 fanfic

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honestsycrets · 4 years ago

Text

Hard Sell II: Mother’s Approval

❛ pairing | ivar x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | he’s too shy to say anything.

❛ warnings | verbal argument, crazy family, 4B ivar is my favourite ivar

He sits by that rock looking out at the pier. As he reclines there, watching the waves pull and push onto the pier, Aslaug watches him too. There’s something on his mind, she knows, a mother always knows her son’s needs. She stops by the rock, the back of her hand brushing his prominent cheek bones, and waits.

“Ivar…”

He grunts, turning up from the waters, and regards her softly. “Mother.”

“There are no raiders leaving.” She notices.

“Mm.” He nods, turns his eye back, and she suddenly realizes what it is that he’s looking at. There, in the waters, his best friend pokes at the water with a long pole. She strikes, then fails, and the man beside her roars in laughter, getting a kick of heavy water toward him.

She mentions your name, “I see now.” Her foxish face pulls together, amused. “And the boy?”

“Cousin,” Ivar answers, settling his chin back on his forearm. “So he said.”

“She won’t marry her cousin, Ivar.” She settles beside him. The strange thing of his mother, as he always thought, was her infatuation with him above all his sons. The only one who truly and really loved him. Maybe then-- she was something protective of that role.

“Maybe not,” he grunts.

“Yet still no husband,” her voice pulls, amused. He hates it when she does that. Pointing out something that he knows, and could do something about, but hates all the same. He lowers his head down, barely peering over the leathery gloves.

“No, no husband.” Ivar agrees.

“Any reason why?”

Ivar’s fingers flicker. A growing annoyance-- because despite that chat the other day, nothing had changed. He saw you pick up your skirts, clinging to the form of your legs, and move onto sandy land. He also saw the confidence in which you carried yourself when you knew others were watching. You liked the eyes. His eyes, especially.

Something had to be there. You wink in his direction. It’s for him, he knows that now, and yet… You turn to place your hand back in the binding that the healer had given you to keep it taut against your chest. You’re an awful person to take care of. Always disobeying orders despite the break.

“Ivar!” You shout out to him, rushing to his rock, when you stop. It’s as if you’ve noticed something is astray. Or rather, someone.

“Aslaug,” you bow your head to her. Aslaug’s features soften, grasping Ivar’s arm. There it was, that display of dominance, and Ivar knows that this is the precise reason why you hadn’t done more to chase him. Ragnar didn’t love his mother like Lagertha. Every fool knew that. The way he… he cringes, turns his head away, finds his mother’s eyes.

“Any luck in the waters?” she asks, minding the fishing stick in your hand. You flip the pole in your hand, lowering the prod down to her as your cousin throws a wet sack over his back. “‘fraid not. Einir over here scared the fish away,” you accuse.

Did not, Einir scoffs, blowing out a small tuft of air. “She’s just a shit fisherwoman. Does better watchin’ than she do catchin’” he motions, pausing when Ivar’s eyes catch his, hot and hard. Almost as if to ask him to say that again, no really, say that again. “But-” he punches your arm playfully. “We’ve gotta get to the longhouse. Got some fish for dinner myself. Uncle’s waiting, huh?”

“You should come,” you gesture to Ivar, then pause. Aslaug-- she’d certainly wouldn’t complain if Ivar went, but you keep in mind that Ivar is her lifeforce to Midgard. “You too, Queen Aslaug. Father makes a good roasted fish.”

“Perhaps.”

That’s not awkward. You excuse yourself, punching Einir with your one good hand, even if its still holding the fishing pole. Fuck you, he makes out. Aslaug’s eye follows you until you disappear, then her arm snaps free of him, running instead through his hair.

“Do you want to go?” she asks.

Ivar, gazing back at her, nods. And they go together.

Your family works hard. So it only makes sense that they play hard, booze hard, laugh hard. Aslaug is familiar with this sort of company, but at the same time, she isn’t. They drink over one’s lap, husbands and wives drink of one horn, brothers brawl in the longhouse over the stupidest shit-- there’s your brother now, thrusting Einir across the floor and into the bench like beds that lined the walls.

“Do they always fight like that?” she asks.

You inhale, picking at the roasted fish, regretting all your life choices in that instant. “More or less. Einir calls Eyr something, Eyr calls Einir something, right Ivar?”

“You do the same thing.”

“I do not! I haven’t called them names.” You cut him off quick, tapping Ivar’s prominent forehead. Somewhere along the line, Ivar’s head had met your lap. Aslaug found this unsavoury. If only because she’d never seen him like this before, but the way he smiled, pure and wide, was something that she couldn’t fight about. “...today.”

“Tch,” Ivar clicks his tongue. “Continue to delude yourself.”

“Asshole,” you tell him, like its just you and him. But his mother is there, lips churning into a frown, obviously wise to your words. She leans on the edge of the chair.

“So,” she says, setting her own empty plate aside, and balancing the ale in her fingers. “Ivar says you’re uncalled for.”

“Uncalled for?”

“Mother.”

“You’re unmarried,” behind her, the rustling of Einir and Eyr comes to a complete stop. As does the loud, booming festivities of the evening. Instead they cue into her words. “Surely you aren’t going to remain unmarried. Do you have plans?”

By the gods, Ivar sits up. The safety net of having Ivar there has gone, and in its place, your hands run together with uncertainty. “I hadn’t thought of it. Spend all my time at home or with him.”

“You should.” She says. “There are plenty eligible men in Kattegat of your class.”

Of your class-- your eyes bulge, and so do Ivar’s.

“What does that mean?” Einir stands upright, though with a stagger, given the welt above his eyebrow swelling out. Blood trickles into his lashes. “Ya don’t think she could marry up?”

You gesture your cousin to calm himself, but he’s a farmer’s man, with a raging temper. He’s been busy knocking down timber for trade all night. He’s willing and ready to go, and you sense as much off the way he sets one of those fat palms on your shoulder, standing like a wall of offended muscle.

“Why my girl could marry a goði,” your father chimes in with a slur, and you squeeze your brow, “Father please.”

There’s no real stopping your father, nor your brother, nor your cousin when they started. “In fact! Just look’it ol’Ivar!”

He freezes, staring up like a deer caught in the hunter’s grasp, begging with the old man not to say something. Then, knowing he would, his fear turned to abject anger, his broad nose squeezing tight.

“She’s gottim wrapped around her li’l finger.” He shoves his wife’s shoulder, roaring in a laughter that is almost mocking. “A prince righ’? A prince.”

Aslaug isn’t fazed. Rather she searches you for a reaction. How would you handle this? Ivar’s face was hot and red, swelling up like the surge before the hurricane at sea. Your hand shoots out, cupping over his. Fingers lace up, drawing his attention from the momentary need to lash out, and replacing it with a soothing calm.

“I’m sure she could.”

You release tightly held air.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Since when have you been sorry?” Ivar asks, settled over his rock with his hood drawn up over his shaggy hair.

“Since, uh, now?” you come to sit beside him on the rock, pulling up your dress. His eyes catch the unprotected skin, cementing it to his memory, and he knows he’s in trouble then. His eyes tear away. “No difference. He was right.”

“About what?”

The cool air rushes by, reminding him of his mother’s words: Still no husband? And yet, you could have one, if Frigg willed it. His throat has clammed up on him, dry like a rock. “You have me around your finger.”

It’s ridiculous.

“You can’t be serious. He was drunk Ivar. He didn’t mean that--”

He could. He would. And he is.

“...I do.” His voice quakes, like he’s too shy to actually say it, that I want you-- that I like you-- maybe love you. He’s not sure of it and yet he’s never been more sure of anything else before. He only knows that it feels right when you gaze at him through the crowd, seek him out like a morsel of food among a plate.

He’s sure, more than ever, that this is what he needed.

“Well, I… of course.” You say, your head connecting with his shoulder, breathing in the scent, then exhaling. “You’re my best friend.”

If he died without hearing those words again, he’d be a lucky man.

“...of course.”

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