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whaledenwtf · 11 months

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Halsin x Druid!Reader - The Forest's Calling

I'm currently HYPERFIXATING on Baldur's Gate 3. This is my love letter to Mount Halsin, the elf I would climb until my limbs fell off. You're welcome (or I'm sorry). Cross-posted on AO3 here: Link Enjoy!

Warnings: afab!reader and Male Smut, Dom/Sub Dynamic, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Choking, Oral (Female and Male Receiving), Kinky DRUID Forest Sex, Misuse of the Entangle Cantrip (hehe), Size Difference

I tried to keep Halsin in character as much as possible, but there is a significant change when y'all get funky

WORD COUNT: 4691

Nature calls to you, as it always had. The sounds of the forest have always been your favourite. Silvanus' creations had made you feel complete. The moss between your toes, and the swaying of trees; you had never felt so much peace during such perilous times. It's at times like this you are gracious for your god's teachings; nature is chaotic as it is gentle, and things will sort them out- if that is what is determined. This is how you kept such a level head during this adventure. Some of your companions saw your level-headedness as worrisome, but you always remind them that to persevere is in the forest's nature, and so it is in yours.

No good ever came from stressing over obstacles in your life.

"If you could stop thinking about the grass for five seconds, I'd appreciate you listening to me. Tch- tree huggers." Astarion tells you annoyed. You look into his crimson eyes and smirk.

"This tree hugger is your key to freedom. Unless you forgot about the tadpole in your brain." Astarion's eyes widen, before he smirks.

"Keep talking dirty, sweetheart. Might not resist taking a bite~" You chuckle.

"Settle down. Like I told you beforehand, we must seek out the Archdruid Halsin before we continue our journey. Nobody could come close to him in terms of knowledge-" Lae'zel rolls her eyes.

"Nobody could come close to the information about the ghaik than us githyanki. You istik entertain such useless ideas." You roll your eyes at her. Before you could speak up, Shadowheart speaks to the githyanki.

"Yes. I'm sure your barbaric race would know much more." She says sarcastically. "I, on the other hand, would much rather any other option besides yours." Before Lae'zel could fight back, Karlach speaks to them both.

"Shut the fuck up and kiss already. Wasting time when we could be slaying goblins and getting closer to being free. Stop fucking around and listen to (Y/N)." You nod your head in appreciation to the tiefling.

"Besides, even if Archdruid Halsin does not know how to help us, he may offer his services regardless. Leaving him with the goblins is a fate worse than death. His ally-ship will be indispensable." This appeases those in the group who were unsure of your leadership.

"Always the cunning one, aren't you sweetheart." Astarion speaks up. You turn your head and wink.

"Let's push forward and assist in any way we can." Wyll speaks up. Gale nods, looking over our group.

"Let's be smart and proactive, we do not want to lose eachother, nor do we want to get caught. We shall stay in hiding for as long as possible. Stealth is the best way forward with our little information we have." Astarion taps your chin.

"I like you like this." You smirk at him before leading the group to the Goblin Camp.

After killing every goblin in the vicinity, you all venture forward to a cage where a bear is roaming.

"A bear. He was probably going to be goblin fodder." Astarion says, smirking.

"Hush. Poor thing was being attacked by these goblins." Karlach speaks to him, bumping her shoulder into Astarions. He gasps, the wind being knocked out of him.

"Careful. I bruise like a peach!" He tells her angrily. She chuckles.

"And you're just as bitter as a rotten tomato-" Astarion bristles. You cut him off.

"Settle down, girls. We have time for play later. Show some respect. That bear is our charge." You unlock the iron gate before walking in alone.

"I don't think that's a good idea-" Gale says worriedly, but you shush him. When the bear makes eye contact with you, you see the gold swirling in his eyes. His mouth opens to show his sharp teeth, a warning.

You bow down infront of the bear, laying a hand out towards his snout.

"Are you sure that's... wise, sweetheart?" Astarion asks, concerned. You ignore him before speaking.

"Archdruid Halsin, it is my absolute honour to stand before you. We have come here to free you from your imprisonment and bring you back to the Emerald Grove. May Silvanus preserve us." Without a beat, the bear transforms into a tall, handsome, elf. Your eyes widen at his stature, but more at his beauty.

"Ah, a fellow druid. Silvanus has certainly looked upon me in favour. Thank you for assisting me." You realize you are still kneeling, at crotch level with the Archdruid. Your eyes flicker to his pelvis, and eyes widen at what you see. You rise to your full height, which makes you eye level with his chest. Your head tilts to look into his eyes, and notice him watching you, with a small smirk. He saw you gazing at him, how embarrassing.

"Of course, Archdruid Halsin." He shakes his head softly, braids swaying with the movement.

"Please, call me Halsin. My savior shouldn't have to call me by such a title." You nod, before looking over your shoulder at your companions. They are all looking at the tall elf in shock.

"He just- he just turned into a man!" Astarion says out loud. You chuckle.

"Yes. My preferred wild shape is a bear." He responds to the shorter elf, not looking away from you, glancing over you in curiousity. You turn back to look at him. Your eyes stay locked while you speak to your party.

"Let us leave. We will bring Halsin back to the Emerald Grove and then we can rest. I want to wash off this gods-awful goblin blood before it stains my armour." Everyone nods at that. They turn to walk out, ready to escort Halsin back. You follow your group, Gale and Wyll leading you all forward.

"Thank you, little flower. I truly appreciate you aiding me." Halsin whispers to you, matching your strides behind the group. Little flower... the nickname made you giddy. You blush softly, the heat reaching to the peaks of your ears.

"I can't leave a fellow druid behind. Especially with what those goblins were doing to you." You shake your head, looking over him and the dried blood that caked him from his wild shape form. He chuckles at your worried gaze.

"Nonetheless, the Oakfather has blessed me with your assistance. I am indebted to you for life." You turn to look at him, his easy smile and warm eyes making you feel something... magical.

"The Oakfather has blessed us many times anew. The air we breathe, the ground we walk upon, the forests. But alas, I did come to release you because we need your assistance-" His eyes widen lightly, before he looks down at you.

"What do you need, little flower?" The way he speaks to you is soft, unconcerned of the questions you will ask him. His caring nature speaks to the softest parts of you.

"I will ask you once we bring you to the Emerald Grove. However, I must warn you-" You stop walking and grab his arm. Holy hells his arms are buff. You must have paused for a moment too long.

"What is wrong?" You shake your head at your own thoughts. You're acting like a toddler, instead of the adult elf you are.

"At the Emerald Grove... Kagha is planning to do the Rite of Thorns, and is releasing all the Tiefling refugees..." Halsin's eyes almost bug out of his head.

"We must stop them! That rite does more harm than good! Those Tieflings... fleeing towards death. It is not right!" You tell him passionately. He takes your hand from off his arm and grips it in both his large hands.

" We will stop them, little one." You nod. He continues to hold your hand.

"The shadow curse has been on my mind for so long, I cannot believe I trusted such a-" He shakes his head, cutting himself off.

"We will continue our trek and once we stop the rite, I will tell you all you need to know." You bite your lip.

"If I could help carry your burdens, I would." He chuckles, a light blush appearing on the apples of his cheeks.

"I'm sure you would, little flower. Now, let us continue our journey. I appreciate you warning me." He lets go of your hand and waves his hand out, gesturing you to go forward, so you do. You can't help the chill that you feel when his hands release yours.

After stopping the rite, you did speak to Halsin about the tadpoles. He sighs when he says he cannot heal you of your affliction. A shiver of fear goes through your body. If someone as knowledgeable with healing like Halsin cannot heal you, you cannot imagine how to move forward. Its then that he tells you that the Shadow-Cursed Lands may be the key to assisting you in your journey. You bite your lip worriedly.

"I will continue to assist you. I will follow your party and do what I can. Not only for the cursed lands, but also for you." He says it with such conviction, such passion, you cannot help but feel safe and warmed from his sentiments.

"I feel indebted to you Halsin. Truly." He shakes his head.

"You will be helping me much more than I, you." You smile up at him. He cannot help but be captured by the radiance of your smile. Oakfather preserve him, you are the most beautiful of his creations.

"I will help you with this shadow curse. Take back nature and restore balance. I just hope I don't grow any tentacles in that time." You say humourlessly, your laugh hollow. He grabs your chin with his hand, his thumb stroking the side of your face.

"I promise on all of the Oakfather's creations, I will not let anything happen to you." Your eyes flutter, and you glance down at his lips before looking back into his eyes.

"Thank you." You whisper to him. His attention is taken elsewhere, and his hand caresses down your neck before releasing you, and moving to the Tiefling asking for him.

You feel this feral need to have him, to help him. You're attracted to him, and you can tell this will be problematic. Oakfather preserve you.

That night, the Tieflings throw a party for you all. The music is loud, and you can see them enjoying themselves. You look over your companions and see all of them enjoying themselves; albeit in their own ways. While looking over the festivities, you see Halsin standing away, gazing over the festivities and people watching. Your eyes make contact and you blush.

"This wine tastes like goblin piss." Astarion tells you, gagging on the swig he just took. You chuckle at him, breaking eye contact with the handsome druid to look over at the vampire.

"Not your type of red drink?" You ask him flirtedly. He smirks at you and leans into you.

"No, sweetheart. My type of red is standing right next to me, as radiant as ever." His face gets close to your neck and he sniffs you deeply.

"All of a sudden, I am thirsting for something else." He tells you. You chuckle at his advances.

"Are you now?" You flirt back. He smirks down at you.

"You're much more fun to speak to like this, sweetheart. I can't help but want a taste." You giggle at him, before taking the wine from his hand and taking a couple mouthfuls.

"Oh gods it does taste like goblin's piss." You splutter out. He laughs at your turmoil.

"Oh darling, you make me laugh." He tells you. You grin at him.

"Glad my misfortunes bring you joy." He smiles at you, sharp teeth glinting in the campfire's light.

"Mm. The only thing that would bring me more joy in this moment is having a taste of you." His voice lowers to a whisper. You roll your eyes.

"Easy there. If I didn't know you better I'd say you're a bard, singing my praises so I could follow you to your tent for the night." You push his chest gently.

"I'm sure I can make you sing, sweetheart." He tells you, looking at you with a smirk.

"As much fun as we would have, I think you've had enough to drink." You tell him jokingly, waving the bottle of wine in his face. You take another swig, and swallow down the bitterness. You go to walk forward, the alcohol driving you to your destination; Halsin.

"Ah, my little flower! It seems you were having fun." Halsin tells you, smile on his face. The crease between his brows tells you that he'd much rather had been the one sniffing your neck, rather than Astarion. You feel a rush of confidence surge through you, aided by the alcohol in your system.

"I decided to turn my attentions elsewhere." You tell him confidently. He smirks at your words.

"Is that so? Well, I am honoured to have such attentions on me." He tells you in a whisper. You almost whimper at his words, feeling hot. You feel as though molten lava has replaced the blood in your veins, and the heat is centralized at the apex of your thighs. You rub them lightly, which catches the elder druid's attention.

"You could have much more than attentions on you tonight, Master Halsin." Your voice lowers to a whisper, and the effect is immediate. His eyes shine golden and his smile becomes wider, more primal. Just like in the Goblin Camp, it was a warning.

"Is that so, little flower? Are you offering yourself to me?" He asks you gently, taking a step forward. You are now flush with his body, and the carvings on his undershirt graze the peaks of your breasts deliciously, hardening them. You moan quietly, looking up at the gargantuan man through your eyelids.

"I'd like to explore you, Master Halsin. See if those rumours of your... generosity are true." You feel his arm wrap around your waist, his hand resting at the small of your back. His fingers seem to tighten, digging softly into your skin.

"You seem to enjoy calling me by my honourifics." You hum, smirking at him.

"I'm just calling you by title. You would like to be my master, would you not?" He growls lowly, much like a bear would.

"You're playing a dangerous game, little one." He tells you huskily. You giggle at him.

"The only games I would like to play are with you, Master." In his eyes you can see him having an inner battle. You take the hand on your waist in yours, which snaps him out of his inner turmoil. The alcohol is rushing through you now, your (very little) inhibitions non-existent now. You pull it closer to your face, before taking a thick finger in your mouth and worshipping it. You kiss at the pad of his forefinger before licking it; inevitably taking it into your mouth and sucking on it softly. He watches you entranced, groaning softly as you let go of his finger with a pop. You take his hand in yours, and pull him towards the edge of the camp, leading to the forest. Once you find the small grove in the forest, you let go of his hand, spinning in place and enjoying the silence of nature. He stays at the edge of the tree line, watching you with sharp eyes.

"Little flower-" Halsin says softly. You turn to look at the man with a smile.

"Our worries are for dawn. With the moonlight shining on us, and the trees as our witness, I would like to show you the pleasures of the flesh, as nature intended." He groans loudly now, far enough from the camp that your voices would not carry.

"I'm afraid to lose myself. The beast-" You pull off your nightshirt, exposing your breasts in the moonlight. You then pull off your pants and undergarments in one shot, fully baring yourself to his sight. He inhales deeply, eyes looking at you up and down multiple times. You begin to to dance sensually, your hips seeming to beckon him forward. He takes a couple of uncertain steps.

"Halsin. I am not one so easily afraid of beasts. Let me help you forget your woes for a night." His resolve seems to crumble, and he runs to you, leaving you both chest to chest.

"Little flower, I will devour you-" You moan, pulling his hair to bring him to your lips. His chapped lips touch yours, and it feels as if there is magic flowing through your bodies. His hands find purchase under your thighs, lifting you up into him. Your legs wrap around his waist, and you moan into his mouth. His tongue prods at the seam of your lips, persuading you to open your mouth to his. Your tongues find each other, and a battle of dominance begins. You lose easily, his gifted tongue prodding and licking at yours with wanton need. You release each other to inhale deeply. He inhales from his nose and groans.

"I can smell your need, little one." You whimper, looking into his eyes.

"You're overdressed, Master Halsin. Allow me to undress you." He lets you down out of his embrace, and you begin to untuck his sleepshirt out from his pants and over his head. You begin to untie his pants, helping him out of them as well. That's when you notice he is wearing no undergarments, and his cock is thick and long, closer to the length of your forearm. You whimper, falling to your knees and looking up at him.

"You don't need to please me-" You cut him off.

"I want your cock to hit the back of my throat until I am unable to speak." He moans loudly, before your hand grasps him at the shaft.

"The Oakfather blessed me with such a giving partner. I- Oh Silvanus-" You take him in your mouth, licking at the tip. You taste his musk, and he tastes like pine and mint, and something that makes you absolutely feral. Without a care for your own wellbeing, you try to swallow him whole, his tip hitting the back of your throat, and then some. He groans, eyes closing as one hand finding itself locked in your hair and the other forming a fist at his thigh.

"That's right little druid, take Master's cock into the back of your throat." His voice goes down an octave, and you feel a rush of slick leave you. Taking him out of your mouth, you kiss the shaft downward until you take his heavy balls in your mouth and suckle. You're panting with need, moaning into his skin. You let go of him, one hand stroking his cock and the other inching down your body to touch your cunt. He looks down at you then with hooded eyes, and moans again.

"Are you touching your needy cunt, little flower? I cannot wait to fill you with my seed until your entire being is satiated." You moan, needing him back in your mouth. You remove the hand on his shaft and deepthroat him again, only getting two thirds of his member into your mouth. You hear your need, the wet sounds coming from your pussy only arousing you further. He begins to thrust into your mouth and you choke on him. After making sure you were alright, he continues his movements, thrusts getting rougher. The hand in your hair tightens and pulls you off his cock, as he growls.

"I will pound your quim until you are unable to walk without my healing, little one." His hands grip your upper arms and lifts you up to stand. Your face is smeared with his precum and your spittle. Once you are stable on your two feet, he kisses you passionately and you moan into him. His hands are touching you everywhere. His touch is searing hot. His hands find themselves at your breasts, rubbing and pinching the peaks of them.

"O-Oh Halsin. Don't stop." He chuckles into your ear.

"I'm not planning to stop until dawn shows itself." You whimper at his words, thrusting your chest deeper into his ministrations. You hear Halsin whisper before your hands are being pulled behind you, tightly grasped. Your feet are also held up, spreading your legs open. You notice that vines grew from the ground and are holding you up like a platter to Halsin.

"As much as I love your touch, little one, I don't want you to push me off when I get a taste of your ambrosia." You moan loudly, almost caterwauling for the elder druid.

His large hands caress up your leg, massaging the skin of your calves, before going higher.

"I wish you could see yourself as I do in this moment, little flower. You're exquisite; truly one of Silvanus' greatest creations." You blush, heaving.

"H-Halsin, please-" He chuckles at your enthusiasm.

"Don't fret, you will be chanting my name soon enough." His confidence is addicting, you could feel how drenched you were even with your legs spread so far apart. His hands finally reach close to your core, and he spreads your slit further open to look at you. You could feel your hole contracting, as if begging for an intrusion.

"By the gods... Look at your tight cunt begging for my cock. Can't wait to have a taste." You feel his breath on you. You look down and see him watching you, as his hands slide up to your breasts to play with your nipples like he had before. The first stroke of his tongue on your clit sent a sensation of pleasure up your spine. You struggle against your bonds, with an insatiable urge to grasp his hair and tug him deeper into you.

His tongue then ventures lower, tasting your essence. He moans loudly into your body, the vibrations of his moan pleasing you greatly. He continues licking you, tasting you as he tweaks your nipples, tugging before massaging. You felt powerless against the bonds, barely hearing anything more than the rush of blood in your ears.

"Your nectar... is just like honey. I can't wait to have you cum on my tongue multiple times." You moan. You can tell you're already close to your precipice, his words, moans and tongue vibrating and licking against your clit deliciously.

"Please... please Master Halsin-" He groans at the honourific. He plunges his tongue into you, lapping you at your source. His nose nudges your clit and that sets off your orgasm. You feel yourself leak onto him, his tongue cleaning your mess. You're shaking with oversensitivity, but he does not stop. One of the hands on your breast caress back down the length of your body, before he pulls away from your core. He grins up at you as he thrusts two of his thick fingers into you. He curls them, as you begin to shake harder.

"That's it, little one. Let all those in the forest know who is making you feel like this, making you cum and feel pleasure-" His words go straight to your core, and more of your slick leaks around his fingers.

"Halsin-H-Halsin- Oh GODS-" His lips wrap around your clit, sucking and licking at you. The attention was too much; you cum again. This time, you can feel much more than slick leave your body- did I squirt? You wonder to yourself, as your body is now lashing against the constraints. You didn't have much time to think about it, as he pulls his fingers out to taste you, moaning. You look down at him, panting. He spreads you open again, this time with both hands, before his tongue is back in you, tasting you like you were water and he was a man dehydrated. You whimper, begging him to give you reprieve. He pulls off of you, his mouth and chin covered in your release. He was panting, his eyes glowing a bright amber.

"You have no idea what you unleashed, little one." He growls out. You feel the vines dissipate. You're laid on the forest ground gently. Before he could move, you flip yourself over with enthusiasm, laying your upper body parallel to the floor and your lower body in the air. You wiggle your ass, one of your hands going between your legs and spreading yourself open. You look over your shoulder and look him directly in the eye. He is watching you with wonder, before you speak.

"Breed me, Master Halsin. Empty your seed in me and fuck me into a stupor." He growls, before kneeling behind you.

"I'll make sure you can't walk for weeks, little one. I'll spread you nice and good." You feel the tip of his cock at your entrance. He rubs himself up and down your slit, gathering your juices.

"Look how wet you are. Such a good little druid for me." You whimper at his words. Without warning he thrust into you, going to the hilt. His heavy balls hit against your clit, and your mouth goes open in a silent scream. He begins a brutal pace, pounding into you. One of his hands reach around your body, his large hand grasping your neck. His hold is tight, but not painfully so. You feel lightheaded, all your senses being overwhelmed by the Archdruid. You feel as though your floating, the only thing tying you to this plane of existence is the continuous thrusts from the elf behind you. You felt as though you were split open repeatedly, his cock reaching places in you that you were unsure existed before today. He growls as he pounds into you, and you begin to feel claws against your neck, before they retract.

"You make me feral, little one. I'm gonna fill you with my seed, fill you with pups." You moan, breathless. His thrusts begin to falter, but they seem to go deeper. You feel yourself fluttering around him, as you gasp.

"I-I'm close." You whisper to him. He groans.

"I feel you fluttering around me, little one." He chokes out. After a handful of thrusts he cums with a shout, and you constrict around him, cumming once more. You feel his seed in you, so abundant that it leaks out around him. You both pant for a couple seconds. He releases your neck and you gasp an inhale.

"Did I hurt you?" He asks you softly. You shake your head enthusiastically.

"N-no. Oh gods Halsin. I am unsure how I will walk right ever again." You tell him breathlessly. He chuckles at that, caressing your back and thighs with gentleness. You feel him slowly pull out of you, taking care to not punish your core anymore. You whimper at the loss, feeling your mixed spend leaking out of you. He flips you over softly, wanting to look you over. His hand goes to finger you lazily. You shriek, body seizing up.

"Not a drop goes to waste." He tells you huskily. After a couple moments, he pulls his fingers out too, and directs them to your mouth. You suckle on the digits, the taste arousing you once more. You both look into each other's eyes as you did this. Once he removes his fingers from your mouth, his lips replace it, tasting both of you on his tongue. He groans into your lips. You kiss for a couple moments, before you both need to separate so you could inhale. You felt utterly spent. He goes to lie down next to you, and your eyes follow him.

His hands begin to massage your sore muscles, before pulling you onto him. You felt utterly spent. He holds you into a lover's embrace and you can't help but sigh into his chest, caressing his pectorals and cuddling into him. You feel his lips on the crown of your head, leaving a trail soft pecks and kisses. You both lay there, absorbing the beauty of nature and speaking about your lives before the parasite and the shadow curse until the sun rose.

END

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anadiasmount · 6 months

Note

Hola :)

Can u write y/n getting stuck on the elevator with Jude? And like she is from Real Madrid staff and they kinda like each other ...

hii amor!! small but i hope you enjoy!! 🤍

before you knew it, the day was over. the amount of paperwork piled up in organized folders, calls made and scheduled for the next day, meetings finished, all done in a single day. you were exhausted, feet throbbing with pain as you stepped into the elevator. your stomach grumpy for food as all you ate was a coffee with bread and small lunch.

you read over a few emails, looking up when you saw the doors open to reveal the one and and only jude bellingham. you offered a friendly smile, stepping to the side as he walked in with his small toiletry bag and wearing his day clothes. you continued to type away as jude sniffled and looked up distracted.

but deep down jude was nervous, so nervous he began to shift his weight from his heels to toes anxiously. jude knew it was busy day for you as you weren’t wearing any of the uniformed attire rather your long business romper and your designer bag filled with what seemed your laptop, journals and other goodies.

“busy day?” he asked, looking up to see his brown eyes already staring into yours. “something like that… it gets quite hectic when ucl time is around you know? luckily today was more of paperwork and that’s it,” you sighed dramatically causing jude to laugh and give you his pearly white smile. “you? just recovery?”

“small bit of training! nothing to harsh since international break is coming up,” jude said softly, his eyes offering some unite than just a friendly look. you could feel the tension, and you wanted nothing more than to relieve it, knowing you couldn’t be your true self around him. “you got the call up?”

“always do,” he smirks now making you laugh as you cut the eye contact off. “alright now, don’t get so cocky, one call and you could be back before you even step foot in england,” you joke. before jude could respond, the elevator shook, your worst nightmare becoming reality as it swayed side to side making you lose balance.

“this cannot be happening,” jude said in a scared tone, immediately calling for help on the emergency button but that seemed down as well. “we’re stuck in here!” you paced back and forth, instead of grabbing your phone and calling for help. but that seemed to also not work since the signal blocks were down.

“it’s okay calm down! let’s give it a couple minutes and we’ll try again okay?” jude gently cupped your face, watching how you immediately relaxed in his hold, eyes never mind leaving yours, as almost if he was promise you this. all you could do was swallow and nod slowly.

you brushed away the tingles from your body, focusing on now how to get out instead of the talk and handsome man next to you. it wasn’t any secret to anyone just you and jude. oblivious was a fact. you couldn’t keep a normal conversation going without one of you getting nervous and pulling away.

he often came to find you in your office or approached you when you were outside in the training grounds, anything to hear from you. jude loved to make you laugh, and you loved seeing him smile. hours could go by with the both of you talking from the most random topics to the most meaning in deep heart conversations. you loved how no matter where you were he never changed.

he had this mature persona in him and it reassured you anywhere you went, you could trust him. some could say you liked the boy, but it was more than that for you. lunch dates turning into dinner dates. day time conversations turning into late night walks. hidden glances at work turning into a tense and eventful relationship.

you sat on the ground, not being able to hold or stand any longer. hearing jude talk through the phone and being advised someone would appear sooner or later. he grunted out a breath, taking a seat next to you, thanking you when you offered him some of your snacks. “now it’s a game of patiently waiting,” jude said.

“how fun! i love this game,” you responded sarcastically but it was the overwhelming feeling and hunger taking over you. you were craving a specific spot in town, now you were afraid you wouldn’t get there in time to at least order to go. “what are you doing after this?” he asked, sitting closer to you.

“i’m hungry so probably go into town to pick up or eat at my favorite spot,” you closed your eyes , mouth watering at the thought of a yummy meal. “where is that exactly…”

“if i told you it wouldn’t be a secret any more,” you push his shoulder with yours, jude rolling his eyes. “but if i take you there you have to promise not to tell anyone about it. when i say it’s sacred, it’s sacred,” you dramatized, making him chuckle and lean down to your level, lowering your eyes to look at him. “feel like it should be the other way around…”

“w-what you m-mean?” you stutter, noticing. every engraved detail on his face, having to refuse the urge to run your finger along his face to trace them all softly. “as in i should be asking you on a date,” jude spoke deeply, making your tummy flutter nervously. “a-a date? you wanna go on a date with me again?” you ramble nervously.

“why wouldn’t i? i have the most stunning girl in the whole city of madrid, a best dinner spot referred by her, and i wouldn’t mind her company at all,” he said, his thumb brushing along your jaw down to your chin. “i would love to take you out on a date again y/n… never refuse my time on that,” he deadpanned seriously.

jude was head over heels for you. no girl could make him feel how you made him feel. the small glance or the hug you gave him when you saw each other. he never felt more nervous yet so enamored but you. your gentle, caring manner, more so your respectfulness and playful ways as well. since he first met you all he wanted was you.

and as months passed by, talks and touches, shares of laughters and passed notes with messages, he knew you felt the same. it was a matter of time f before he confessed, and although he pictured it differently he couldn’t waste anymore time than to tell you right now. stuck in an elevator. “i really really like you y/n… i’ve been met anyone as special as you…”

you shyly turn away, hiding in his chest as you held back a squeal. quickly composing yourself as jude held your face once again. “do you really? or is this one of your silly pranks?” you have to ask to make sure, needing someone to pinch you to reassure yourself this was real life. “not a prank. i would really like to treat you like you deserve…”

“and how is that exactly?”

“i can’t say much because then it wouldn’t be a secret, and i want every moment we spend for it to be how you least expect it… but let’s start off by having dinner together where you claim to be as your scared spot…” jude kissed the bridge of your nose softly, his lips centimeters apart from yours. “how does that sound?”

“perfect.”

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb

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jrow · 4 months

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May Prompts (25)

Day 24 here. Start from the beginning here. Day 26 here.

Intuition

He may not be Sherlock Holmes, but he trusts his intuition.

In fact, right now his intuition is probably a hell of a lot more reliable than Sherlock’s. He’s seen what Sherlock will do when blinded by anger.

It’s time for Captain Watson to take control.

“Don’t look out the window,” he hisses through a smile. “Keep looking at me or Rosie. Look happy.”

“But John—“ Sherlock argues, gesticulating wildly.

“Sherlock. Trust me.” He knows his tone leaves no room for argument. Even from the great Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock freezes and then starts fidgeting slightly awkwardly. He seems almost … flustered. But then he gives a tiny nod and plasters on a fake smile while keeping his eyes firmly on Rosie.

“Good. Now, you are going to get up and go order two coffees. And I am going to call Mrs. Hudson and ask her to pick up Rosie from here.” He looks at his daughter who is happily scribbling with the crayons and blank paper they brought. He thinks maybe he can see some hearts among her chaos of lines. “We aren’t doing anything until we get Rosie out of here.”

That seems to get through to Sherlock. “Right. Of course. Coffees.”

They proceed with their tasks and soon are back at the table, pretending to have a normal conversation while they wait for their landlady. It’s excruciating.

“Who is he?” Sherlock asks, leaning back in his chair, the picture of relaxation.

“I don’t remember his name but he was on the scene at the … Smith abduction case maybe? Something around that time.” He takes a drink of coffee. “And the bastard has been one of the constables assigned to my room too. Changed his hair and shaved off his moustache but definitely the same guy.”

“Of course, I should have known. No man in their right mind would dye their hair that colour. He’s hoping you won’t make the connection,” Sherlock says, picking up one of the crayons and drawing a happy face beside Rosie’s scribbles. She giggles and snatches the crayon from his hand, having decided she needs the yellow at this very instant. “He seems to think he has a lot to lose. I have no doubt he’s planning an escape—somewhere in Europe most likely.”

To anyone else, he’s sure Sherlock sounds calm, but he hears the quiet fury lacing every word.

He doesn’t know what to say, so they sit in silence for a moment. He drinks his coffee and Sherlock and Rosie play a game of keep away with the crayons.

“I wonder how Larkin got mixed up in all this. Hate to say it, but I feel a bit sorry for the guy,” he finally says, mostly to pass the time.

“That’s easy,” Sherlock says, keeping his focus on Rosie. “Constable Needs-to-Die happened upon Mr. Larkin in the midst of some crime. Something serious that would come with significant jail time. The constable looked the other way in exchange for a major favour, which he called in when he decided he needed to get you out of the picture.” A pause. “Feel no sympathy. Robert Larkin got exactly what he deserved.”

That rather somber sentiment is quickly dissipated by Rosie’s squeals of delight and calls of “Nana” that announce Mrs. Hudson’s arrival. She’s trying to jump down from the booster even before Mrs. Hudson made her way through the door.

“What did you tell her?” Sherlock asks quietly, leaning close.

“Just that I … errr… just that I was hoping to have a little extra time alone with you,” he says, feeling the heat in his cheeks rise. It’s not that far from the truth, really, but feels like a confession of sorts.

Mrs. Hudson swoops in and hugs Rosie before Sherlock can respond. “There’s my little princess, let’s get you in your pushchair. We are going to have so much fun!” For a woman pushing 80, Mrs. Hudson is impressively spry. She quickly gets everything together (eschewing all help), including getting Rosie all buckled in without a fuss.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock says, his voice neutral but his toe tapping rather aggressively.

“It’s my pleasure, boys. You two have fun,” Mrs. Hudson replies with a wink. “Don’t get into too much trouble.” Her words are light but there’s a look in her eye that makes him think she understands the urgency. In a flash, she and Rosie are gone.

He tries to pick up his coffee but his hands are shaking in anticipation of what’s to come. And relief that, whatever happens, Rosie is safe in Baker Street. Where she belongs.

It’s also relief that he is here with Sherlock, about to do … whatever it is they are about to do. Together. It’s where they belong.

“John,” Sherlock says, forcefully. “Rosie is safe. It’s time to do things my way now.”

Time to follow intuition once again.

“Dear god, yes.”

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty @quimerasyutopias

#johnlock #wip #may prompts 2024

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introverted-imagineer · 9 days

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The Vikings Ambition and the Emperor’s Request (Part 23)

Warnings: Language, gendered themes, warfare, violence, themes of pregnancy and infertility, religious themes, and smut. Please be careful not to engage with the content below if any of these warnings are inappropriate or impact your well-being.

This is a long chapter with a bit of time jumping so please bear with it.

-The Introverted Imagineer.

The markets of Constantinople were busiest in the early hours of the morning. Families buy bread and produce for the day, fishermen trade their catches as they row in and out of the harbour, and farmers sell milk and eggs before they are spoilt by the burning sun. It was easy to lose oneself in the crowd, the crowding and bustling a welcome change to the quiet and control inside the Emperor’s palace. The Emperor had been unduly generous since our arrival in Constantinople. His unwavering kindness reminded me of sweet Kurya…but unlike Kurya, something about it felt rather sinister. The influx of luxurious gifts, the invitations to dine with the Emperor and Empress, and the constant influx of service people always insisting on cleaning and cooking for us. I remember, back in London, a life like this seemed a total dream, never having to worry about what to cook, your room always clean, everyone at your beck and call. But now that I was experiencing it myself, instead of being on the other side, I despised it.

I quietly slipped out of our room, smiling as Twyla slept soundly in her basket Harald’s arm draped over the side, his fingers resting on her blanket. I gently clutched the bag close to myself, tip-toeing down the hallowed halls of the palace, and slipping out the closest exit. I never understood why I tip-toed, there was always a guard at every exit…there was no way to leave the place unnoticed. I clutched the bag closer as the sky gleamed with the rising sun, walking past a tired guard as he stood solemnly at his post. Getting things out of the palace was easy…getting stuff in was a little trickier.

I blew a sigh of relief as I walked down the cobbled decline amongst the streets of Constantinople. I looked inside my bag, taking note of the items: a delicately embroidered scarf, a selection of soaps, and a white linen undershirt. The Emperor’s influx of gifts and goods had come in useful the past couple of months since we’d been here. I knew I should feel guilty, selling the things that he generously gifted, but the reality was not even the Emperor would notice that things were missing. I didn’t tell anyone, not even Harald or Mathilda. To them, this life seemed to suit them…but it didn’t suit me. While it was clear, these items were more valuable than what merchants were willing to pay for them, I had gathered a reasonable saving. But with the constant bustling of life within and outside the palace walls of Constantinople, earning coin, particularly undetected, was rather easy.

It had been two months since our wedding, the Emperor and Empress’s grand union following a month later, and Mathilda and Consus’s only a mere week ago. Life had not slowed down enough to allow much time to spend as a family. I had spent most of my evenings alone, Harald usually coming back to the room well after we were asleep. Harald, though he tried, was kept busy by the Emperor and Empress. The Emperor was meticulous, cunning and driven; Harald knew that to help his campaign, he must help the Emperor with his first.

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I wandered around the market stalls, looking for new merchants to sell to. While merchants I had sold to in the past would likely accept more goods, I was cautious to refrain from trading with the same people. I couldn’t risk building a regular business with individuals, that’s when people would start to ask questions. ‘Where did you gather these herbs? How do you make these soaps? Where were these goods made?’. Truth was, Constantinople was still a strange land, lies like this would have been easier to tell back in London, but here I didn’t know anything.

An elderly man stood at his makeshift table, people walking past him without much interest in his goods. Small balls of thick yarn and strings covered his table, people likely judging that his wares would not be palatable for the summer heat. I approached him wearily, pretending to pick up a few of his goods and inspect them as I did. ‘Does anything here catch your eye, my dear?’ He excitedly asked. I put the string down, smiling at him as I put on my friendliest voice. ‘My sister, she’s looking for some thread, she’s unwell and has sent me to the markets to shop for her’ I reached into the bag, pulling the scarf from inside, holding it out for the man to inspect. He pulled it closer, running his fingers over the flowers and swirls that adorned the fabric, nodding impressed at the detail. ‘She likes to make scarfs like this, do you have any threads that are similar?’ He looked at me, shaking his head slightly in bewilderment. ‘Your sister has expensive taste, I’m afraid my wares don’t match the quality that your sister uses…’ I watched intently, inspecting him as he looked at the garment, impressed, almost intoxicated by the quality. This was the moment. ‘Well, between you and me sir, she’s really not well at all…if you are willing, maybe I can tempt you into buying it?’ He raised his eyebrow, looking me up and down. I purposely dressed modestly, careful not to wear anything that might alienate me from the ordinary worker in Constantinople. ‘Such quality of work is well beyond my means’ he said, tentatively placing it on the table. ‘Truly Sir, someone with such knowledge and taste like yourself would appreciate this better than I could…besides I’d be willing to part with it for a very agreeable fee’. I battered my eyelids slightly, cringing at myself as I took on the part of a helpless person, letting him believe that he could easily take the scarf for a tiny bit of what it was worth. He looked up at me again, pursing his lips together as he dug into his pockets, a sound of clinking as he shuffled his hand around. ‘This is all I can offer’ he said, sliding three copper coins across the table. I smiled, being sure to breathe loudly as I thanked him profoundly as if he were some sort of hero. ‘Bless you, sir, you are most generous!’.

Another person approached the table as I slid the coins into my smock, leading the man’s attention away. ‘You know, that scarf looks as though it were fit for a King’ a deep gruff voice whispered in my ear. I jerked away slightly, turning to look up at the person. His body was so large it cast a shadow over me. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest, his words sinking deep into my stomach, a simmering panic bubbling in my stomach. Had I been too careless? Should I have chosen something less exquisite? I shielded the sunlight from my eyes as the man stood to reveal his full height. Through his thick dark beard, a set of smiling teeth gleamed. He held a small netted bag, contents filled with a selection of food and herbs. I felt my insides slither as I retreated into character. ‘Well I will pass your regards onto the maker’ I said, smiling as I tried to elegantly shift away from the man’s intentions. ‘You know, if you had anything similar I’d be willing to pay, certainly more than what you got for the scarf’. I shrugged my shoulders innocently. ‘Sorry, all I have is soaps’ I said, slowly wandering to the next table over. ‘Well that’s very lucky, my mother has asked for soaps too’ he chuckled, holding the bag of food up slightly. ‘Your mother is lucky to have such a devoted son’ I said, stopping to face him as I inspected him. His clothing wasn’t overly grand, the produce in his bag was modest enough. He smiled, nodding at the awkward compliment. ‘I’d like to think every mother deserves such treatment’. I nodded in agreement, thinking of my mother. I’d like to think that someone would have looked after her when I was taken into service. My thoughts were distracted as he dug into his pocket, the clinking sounding as he pulled out a silver coin. I hitched a laugh in my throat, his offering slightly too generous for a simple bar of soap. ‘That’s much more than any bar of soap is worth’ I said, turning my attention back to the stalls. ‘Well I figured, anywhere where you were able to get such a beautiful scarf, must also be selling soaps of high quality’ he said, dipping around and blocking my other side. ‘Also, anyone willing to sell a scarf for that price will likely need more than just a bit of money’.

‘Is there something I can help you with?’ I asked, my tone short as his persistence began to irritate me. ‘Just a bar of soap’ he said, holding out his silver coin. I huffed, snatching the coin from his grasp, pulling out all 3 of the soaps and shoving them into his hand. ‘One for you, two for your mother’. He brought them up to his nose, sniffing at the floral scents. He smiled, closing his eyes. ‘A smell of home’ He noted, slipping one into his pocket and two into the small shopping bag with the merchandise for his mother. I knew I should walk away, but it seemed my mouth got there before my brain could stop it. ‘Why does the smell of home please you so much? You do not live with your mother?’. He licked his lips, his shoulders tensing slightly. ‘I have been summoned to serve in the Emperor’s army’ he said, his voice slightly distressed as he said it. This is opposite to Harald’s when he talked about armies and war. While the Emperor had kept Harald busy, I had not known exactly what the Emperor had kept him busy with…nor what Harald had been supposedly ‘helping’ the Emperor with. ‘The Emperor is recruiting an army?’ I questioned, curiosity and questions generating unwillingly in my brain.

The kind stranger explained the political climate, how the Emperor was seeking to expand his Empire, and how he amongst many men was being recruited and sent to training camps. I could feel my insides boiling. I knew that Constantinople wasn’t a permanent home for us, but for Harald to possibly be so entwined with all this and not say a word. ‘I’m surprised you do not know of this, it is common knowledge amongst Constantinople that the Emperor is building an army?’. ‘I haven’t lived here long’ I noted. He nodded his head solemnly. ‘Might I be correct in sensing that is why you were willing to part with the scarf so cheaply?’. While he seemed well-meaning, his persistence and reference to that damn scarf had become annoying. ‘I don’t think that is any of your concern’ I noted, trying to end the conversation entirely. But predictably, he hadn’t finished. ‘Please forgive me…I couldn’t help but think we might be able to help each other.’ I clutched tighter to my bag, balling my other hand into a fist. I had seen these interactions growing up, and how they unfolded for women like my mother. ‘My mother has a rather spacious home, and with her being old, and with my call to service, she is seeking a new tennant to help her in her home.’ I could feel my grip loosening, a window of hope. ‘I only mention the scarf because nobody would be willing to part with such an item if they didn’t need to.’

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The elderly woman’s home stood on the far end of Constantinople. While most homes were stacked together and stood amongst the streets, a small village of homes stood independently amongst a field of green. While not isolated, many people walked amongst the grassy area; gardening, harvesting wildflowers, children playing and climbing the trees. It was a vision of heaven itself compared to the same walls inside the palace. I couldn’t help but feel butterflies in my stomach, a fluttering of comfort and calmness as the scene reminded me of summers from my childhood. The farmers, their children, and meadows of grass; something I had only admired from a distance. But this could be the opportunity to give my daughter what I never had. The kind stranger, who had introduced himself as George, wandered to a small straw triangle hut held together with dried hardened clay-like mud and woven twigs. An elderly woman sat out front on a large boulder, shucking a cob of corn from its leaves. ‘Mama’ he called, his arms wide-spread, his shopping hanging from one hand. The old woman dropped the corn, her hands coming to her face, gushing at the sight of her son. She seemed overwhelmed by his presence, speaking to him in a language I could not understand. I looked on curiously from afar as her slender frame circled her large son. She pulled him right down, gripping his cheeks in her hand and kissing his cheeks fiercely and repetitively. The scene was curious as if she had not seen him in some time.

When she finally released her son, he handed her the shopping, she looked overwhelmed with happiness as she inspected the contents. He gestured in my direction, speaking to her in their language. She glided towards me, a smile on her face as she gripped my cheeks in her hand, kissing them fervently like she had her son. Her son’s voice emitted. ‘Forgive her, she has lived a long life, and can get confused.’ However, the feeling of tender mothering, the warmth of her hands, the pressing of her thin lips against mine, the feeling was almost intoxicating. Something I had so dearly missed, I didn’t mind it. She gripped my hand, pulling me inside her home excitedly.

The inside was sparse. A simple table and chairs, a fireplace, a straw bed in the far corner, and a set of shelves that were home to her cookware. Next to her fireplace, a pot simmered, a line hung from one wall to the other, a smell of honey wafting as her homemade candles rested on the line drying. A small archway with a curtain hung at the end of the room, which pulled back to reveal another small bedroom with another straw bed. While not as grand as the palace, it was more than what my mother and I had. Some baskets and a bucket full of water sat pushed against the wall of the smaller bedroom. The elderly woman quickly tended to the room, trying to fluff the pillow and straighten the blanket on the bed to make it look more appealing. I walked to the small window, opening the wooden shutters. The sun shone brightly, the grass shimmering with the light. George stopped his mother’s efforts. ‘Maybe it’s not quite what you thought?’ He questioned, his tone laced with a bit of disappointment. I turned back towards them, his mother clutching onto her son’s side, a tight lip smile as if she were trying to apologise. ‘What sort of arrangement are you suggesting?’ I asked, making the tall man smile with a sense of relief. ‘My mother needs help around the home, things like collecting water, going to the market, and helping her in her garden and with her sheep, things her body is too tired to do.’ ‘I have one stipulation’ I noted. George tilted his head curiously. ‘I have a daughter.’ His mother looked between us, confused by the language barrier. I couldn’t understand his translation, but there was one word I did. ‘Baby’. With that, the elderly woman seemed more spritely with excitement as she repeated the words, nodding with delight. ‘Baby, baby.’

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The room back at the palace was empty. Harald likely taken Twyla for a stroll like he did most mornings. I put my bag down, reaching under the feather mattress and pulling out the bag of coins, adding today’s money to the collection. I nervously slid the coins into my bag, wondering how I was going to tell Harald the news. Our marriage had been civil, but nothing more extended beyond fussing around after Twyla and sleeping in the same bed at night like two strangers forced to share. We could be independent, and Twyla would be around other children, endless fields to play and explore. Maybe I was making a mistake?

The door creaked open, and I could feel my insides knotting themselves into tight circles. ‘Harald…I need to talk to you’ I said, turning around to face the door, only to find it was not Harald. ‘Such a content child’ her voice sounded, floating across the room, piercing my ears. I stood up, dipping into a deep curtsy. ‘Empress’ I greeted dutifully. She stood there, looking around the room curiously, Twyla sitting soundly in her arms as she looked at me. I could feel every instinct in my body become alert, my eyes bulging slightly, my jaw clenching my teeth together tightly. ‘I’m so sorry if Harald inconvenienced you’ I said, walking towards her and stretching my arms out to take Twyla. But Elena didn’t budge. ‘We have spent many mornings together haven’t we?’ She said, tickling her little stomach and making her squeal in delight. I could feel a vein protruding from my forehead, I could just imagine a cloud of steam radiating from my ears. ‘You have?’ I asked wearily. ‘Well with you going to the market so frequently, and my husband requiring Harald, who else is there to mother his little girl?’. She smiled, my body freezing at her comment. She knew what she was doing…and I couldn’t do anything to her. Elena was maddening, but the Empress was vicious. ‘Well, hopefully, you’ll be mothering your own baby soon’ I said, offering a friendly chuckle at the end to mask the sarcasm. She walked forward, placing Twyla in her Moses basket. ‘I intend to make sure of it’ she said, her smile polite as she walked out of the room.

As soon as the door shut, I got busy. I opened every drawer, every bit of Twyla’s clothing, and a few pieces of mine, packing our belongings for our new home.

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‘What are you doing?’ I jumped in surprise as Harald’s voice sounded. I tucked Twyla’s blanket into the bag, wiping my eyes before facing him. ‘I have found somewhere to live’ I replied so clinically. Harald’s eyebrows bent in confusion, as he looked around the room, his hands gesturing to the finely furnished room around us. ‘This isn’t a home Harald, it’s a constant watch guard’ I replied swiftly. ‘So you just decided without talking to me that we’re all moving?’ He asked sarcastically. ‘No, Twyla and I are moving, doesn’t seem like you’re staying here for long anyway.’ His face went stiff, the natural pink from his upper cheeks going pale. ‘You’re taking our daughter away from me?’ He asked, his voice quiet but his tone emitting one of panic and anger. ‘Harald, I would never take her away from you, but it seems as though you’ve allowed other people to mother our daughter’ I spat, slamming the contents into the bag violently, forcing them to fit. ‘Excuse me?’ He said, unlacing his weapon belt as he threw it on the bed. ‘Elena came in this morning, she seems to have been spending a lot of time with Twyla’ I put my hand on my hip, firmly placing my feet on the floor as if to match his large stature. ‘Even had the nerve to tell me that she had been mothering our daughter because my husband was too busy running around after the Emperor’. Harald quickly walked toward the other side of the room, closing the door quickly but quietly to not disturb the sleeping baby. ‘Y/N you must not be so careless! Elena is now empress and we must speak of her as such’ he spoke quietly, his body now inches from mine, his hot breath warming my cheeks. ‘And I have not placed our daughter in the care of the Empress, if you are not back from the market, which you spend a suspicious amount of time doing, by the way, I bring her back to the room myself or yes on a rare occasion Inaya would bring her back for a sleep.’ He sighed, brushing his sweaty hair away from his forehead. ‘The Emperor has requested mine and Leif’s presence a lot this week, so I confess Inaya has been caring for her a bit these past days.’

‘Is the Empress at these meetings?’ ‘No, she simply dismisses herself…the Emperor has only confided in the help of Leif, his general and some of his men, and I’ he spoke, but I could tell by the way his forehead creased, that both our minds were rattling with questions. ‘Is it true the Emperor is raising an army?’ I asked curtly. Harald peeled his eyes away from mine, focusing his attention on Twyla as he watched her soundly sleep in her basket. A pang of guilt washed over him as he exhaled loudly. ‘The Emperor has appointed me as part of his personal Varangian guard…the Emperor wants me to go to his camps and train his men should the moment arise that would require an army…’ I crossed my arms as he sat cautiously at the end of the bed. ‘I spoke to the Emperor and he insisted that you and Twyla would still be cared for here at the castle while I fulfilled my new duties, I wasn’t going to just leave again. My family is my first priority.’ he said, shaking his head, as he glued his eyes to Twyla. The bed dipped as I sat down gingerly next to Harald. Harald’s entire life revolved around his ambition to be King of Norway, to return to his home once again and rule. His admission that his family was now his priority was unexpected. I waited for Harald to break the silence. But instead, he gently slipped his hand into mine.

‘So, tell me about where you intend to live’ he said.

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Whispering winds sang across blue skies, the grass danced with the breeze's rhythm, and birds chirped like a choir in church. It had been nearly a month, and now, every afternoon was like this, sitting in the sun, our toes curling in the blades of grass, dandelion seeds and wisps slowly nettling into the locks of my hair. A baby who rested solemnly, playing with whatever her hands could grasp, finding a world of fascination in the things we forget to appreciate. The feeling of steady ground beneath my feet was pure ecstasy. We would sit for hours, listening to the sounds of nature, enjoying the sounds away from the city of Constantinople, watching children run in the meadows, people picking wild mushrooms and herbs for medicines in the secret secure spot that lay outside the walls of the city. I would tell Twyla stories of her grandmother, of her guardian angel Kurya, whether she would retain any of that information I couldn’t know…but it felt right to tell her.

These days were blissful, and too long overdue. Like the small farm from my childhood, this field of seemingly nothing was now everything to me.

The change of pace was wonderful. To have purpose and routine every day. To cook one’s own meals, to freely walk around without a guard watching your every move, to become part of a community where other people lived their lives simply and happily. Our elderly landlady, Emera, while we didn’t speak the same language, seemed overtly grateful for our company. She loved to help with the mundane tasks of parenthood, like bathing, feeding, playing, and dressing Twyla. She was knowledgeable in tending to her garden and precise in demonstrating how to identify and pick weeds, to use and dry manure to effectively fertilise the soil. She was even happy to invite her neighbours over, often slipping extra herbs to them when she had them spare. It seemed she was motherly to all, she was the essence of tenderness and love.

It was almost ironic, how living apart, we had seen more of Harald than we had since living in Constantinople. Harald would make the effort to come to the sparse little village each evening, his new Varangian uniform often catching the excited attention of the children. They would flock to him, trying to spar him with twigs and sticks, the way they would gleefully giggle when Harald would put them over his shoulder and spin around. It was a side of Harald I had not seen, but one that was easy to love. He would often sit in the grass with us, holding Twyla up by her hands as her wobbly legs tried to balance beneath her. She would inevitably giggle, falling so gaily into his arms on purpose. Like she knew, her daddy would always catch her no matter what. Emera would also try to slip Harald her homemade salves, but he would always sweetly put them back on her shelf without her knowing. Harald joined us for meals most nights, sneaking bits from the palace kitchens to make fragrant and delicious foods.

Today’s visit, however, Harald seemed to have something heavy on his shoulders. Instead of playing with the children and Twyla, he held her close and tightly. I watched wearily, unsure of what was to come. Emera watched warily, an essence of uncertainty as she looked between Harald and me from her garden. I feared what Harald had to say, but I dearly hoped I was wrong.

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‘The Emperor is sending me to the camp to train his men to fight’ I closed my eyes, the sky now dark, the only light coming from the huts. The only sound Emera singing to little Twyla from inside. ‘How long?’ I asked wearily. ‘I cannot say’ he said, with just as much despair. While I knew the wise thing to do was to accept the information and discuss what this would mean for our future, my stubbornness was much too strong. ‘The Emperor does not care that you have a family, that you have a child? Not even the decency to tell you for how long you will be separated?’ I asked, adrenaline radiating through my body as I stood up, scuffing and kicking the grass at my feet. ‘I don't think the Emperor quite understands…’ he wearily noted in a quiet tone. ‘He's married! He should understand, but being the so-called leader that he is I bet he's not even leaving the comfort of his palace is he?’ I exclaimed more viciously. ‘Shhhh’ Harald said, reaching out and grasping my forearm. ‘The Emperor is looking to expand his empire, but this could benefit us too.’ ‘Benefit us how?’ I questioned. ‘The Emperor has made an offer; any people I can recruit, I can use to build my army’ he said so diplomatically. ‘We can leave Constantinople, we can go back to Norway, we can build Twyla a real home, teach her about her culture, her ancestors’ he said, standing up, placing both his hands on my forearms. ‘Don’t make this about us, this is your army, your ambition’ I said jabbing my finger into his hard chest. ‘We agreed y/n, Constantinople wasn’t forever, where did you think we were going to go?’ He fiercely retorted. ‘No, no, no, you can’t use this, building an army to get us home excuse as a valid reason to just leave us in the shit’ I exclaimed, stepping out of his grip, and throwing my arms up. ‘This isn’t about the Emperor, it’s about you! Every single thing is about Harald Fucking Sigurdsson!’ ‘You have no idea what I’m trying to do’ he seethed back. ‘There are some dangerous people here, and there are some dangerous plans in place, and I am doing what I can to keep you and Twyla safe and keep this family safe’ he said, trodding heavily after me as I walked aimlessly through the field. ‘You know what, I believe we were starting to become a family, but here’s the god-damn truth Harald, there are dangerous people everywhere, and dangerous things that happen everywhere, so forgive me if I don’t fucking understand how building an army and trying to take the throne in a country that you haven’t been to in some time I take, is going to keep us any safer than we are here!’ ‘Might I remind you, that my family and Twyla’s family extends beyond you!’ He spat.

I stopped in my tracks, turning back in the direction of the house. ‘Well Harald Sigurdsson, I’m so pleased to know that you’re willing to risk all our lives so we can all go back to Kattegat to chase ghosts from your past, who may or may not fucking exist anymore, but why am I surprised? This is Harald’s world, we’re all just living in it! God forbid that you or your children don’t become Kings and Queens of Norway!’ I spitefully yelled, walking right past Harald, and back to the house.

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As the days passed, I couldn’t help but wonder about Harald. Had he decided to stop visiting altogether or had the Emperor already sent him to the training camps? Only once had Emera tried to ask. ‘Harald, no?’ She had asked, pointing at the house on a sunny afternoon in the garden. ‘No’ I responded curtly, digging into the soil for potatoes.

However, the days turned into weeks, and there was nothing. I worried that Twyla had noticed, the way her father had stopped coming. I made sure to play with her every afternoon the way Harald did, encouraging her to stand, to walk, to fall into my arms. I had also spent time wondering about Harald’s other child. Were they even alive? Where were they? What did they look like? Did she have a brother or a sister? Would she ever meet them? I remember my mother making her special concoctions and herbs she would take every day. Had the woman from Harald’s past also taken such precautions? I hadn’t thought so much about Harald’s other child, but since that night the questions kept creeping into my head. How I, as a child, had so desperately wished for a sibling, someone to play with every day, to cuddle up to at night when the nights were cold, to have a friend that wouldn’t judge my birth status. But then again, I wouldn’t wish such a lonely existence on any child, and I was determined to make sure that Twyla had friends.

The markets themselves had become a little less busy, Emera’s son George hadn’t been seen since the day we met. Slowly word spread that people were being sent to the training camps, but it didn’t stop life in Constantinople.

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I sat outside the house on a wooden bench, the sky turning orange as the sun began to make its way to bed. The village was empty, everyone inside cooking their evening meals as smells wafted with the gentle breeze. Twyla sat on my lap, clinging onto strands of my hair, fighting her eyelids that were heavier than her will to keep them open.

‘Beautiful Twyla’ a voice sounded. I could feel my neck click as I whipped it around to the voice. My heart dropped slightly, that the presence that I had hoped was not there. The Emperor stood with a smile, two guards stood behind him. I stood, dropping into a curtsey as Twyla nestled her head against my shoulder. ‘Emperor’ I greeted. He looked around, taking notice of the small little huts, the gardens sparse compared to his own. I could only imagine what he was thinking. ‘She chose this over the palace?’ ‘I hope you have not gone to such trouble just to visit little Twyla’ I said, forcing an enthusiastic smile on my face, breaking the silence. He walked forward, gently holding his hand out. Twyla reached forward, gripping his hand, gently tugging his fingers close to her face as she poked and prodded at the jewels bedazzling his hand. ‘Be careful, she’s taken to putting just about anything in her mouth these days’ I said. ‘She has grown much’ he said, gripping onto her fingers, giving her hand a little shake. He sat down on the bench, gesturing for me to join him. His friendly presence, now solemn worried me.

‘You must know y/n, I hold your husband in the highest regard’ he said. I nodded in agreement. ‘I am visiting and telling you this as a friend y/n.’ I could feel my insides crawl, forcing my face to remain neutral. It felt improper, sickly even for the Emperor to regard me in such a way. Friend. While the Emperor had been generous in many ways, he had been cruel in others. ‘Has something happened to my husband?’ I asked, a sudden panic dawning on me. Why else would the Emperor come other than to deliver the sad news to his widow? ‘Harald is fine for now, his campaign is successful, and he is proving worthy as my Varangian guard’ he said, offering a friendly laugh. But I did not share his amusement, my teeth grinding together as I held the Emperor’s gaze.

‘I intend to expand my Empire, this army, with the help of Harald, and my general, my army is strong.’ I could feel my palms sweat, my body getting hotter by the word. How these men played childish games at an expensive price. How war was treated as such a normal part of life. He placed his hand on my knee, patting it to soften whatever blow he was about to deal. ‘My army will be leaving for the South West soon, and I will not lie to you, I don’t expect our entrance will be welcomed’ I could feel my nails dig into my palm. An ambition I couldn’t understand. How could someone with so much demand so much more? ‘As Harald is my dear friend, and you are his wife, I am telling you that it is possible that Harald will not return for a long time.’ I clutched Twyla closer, my grip disturbing her as she tirelessly wriggled, a small grunt emitting. ‘Sorry Emperor, could you excuse me for a moment?’ I said, more than asked, excusing myself quickly.

I opened the door to the house, Emera sitting soundly next to the fire. Her calm and content expression turned to one of concern as she pulled herself from the chair, reaching out and cupping her hand to my cheek. She swiped her thumb under my eye, wiping away a tear I didn’t even know was there. I returned her kind gesture with a tight-lipped smile, handing Twyla over as Twyla instinctively leaned into Emera’s reach. I turned back to the door, steadying myself to face the Emperor again.

The Emperor’s message was simple. His army is going away, and Harald might not come back at all. As much as I was annoyed at Harald, how harshly our last meeting had ended. I had only one thing to say to the Emperor.

‘Take me to my husband.’

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*Knock knock knock*

He opened the door wearily, just so much that I could see only half of his face. He clenched his eyes slightly, adjusting to the bright lantern in my hands, making out my features in front of him. ‘Y/N?’ He whispered, carefully opening the door slightly more as he carefully assessed the environment behind him. ‘What are you doing here’? he whispered nervously, his conscience wavering if he was going to let me in or not. ‘I need to talk to you’ I whispered. ‘I need to talk to you too’ he whispered back, his chest rising and falling as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. ‘The Emperor already told me…I just came to say goodbye I guess’ I murmured. He opened the door only slightly, grasping my wrist and pulling me inside the tiny room, closing the door with an agonising squeak. I looked around. His shirt lay on the floor torn and withered. On the small table a collection of battered weaponry and a shield. I glanced at Harald’s back noticing the bruises and scrapes. I could feel my heart drop into my stomach. If this was the state training had left him in, what would the real battle be like?

He stood still, our eyes locked as we waited carefully, listening intently to be sure that nobody else in the camp was awake. The only sounds being the quiet breathing, and the sound of the flame flickering from the lantern. ‘Harald I’ I began to whisper, a depth of sorrow in my tone. ‘Shhh’ he whispered, pressing his ear against the wooden door. A sound of gentle footsteps cascaded down the hallway, stopping right out front of the door. A gentle tap on the door sounded. ‘Harald…’ The Empress’s voice gently carried. ‘Harald, are you in there?’ Harald ducked his head, his stray hair falling in front of his eyes as he tightly pursed his lips together.

Maybe this was a mistake. I started to reprimand myself, you stupid idiot. Had I indulged too much in a fantasy that we could be some happy family? But the Emperor’s words were like an explosion as if only now, I realised that Harald Sigurdsson was an integral part of my life. My husband, my daughter’s father…my ally in this strange place. ‘He may never come back’ the Emperor’s words kept ringing in my head. Against all consciousness, against all good reason, against all the hurt caused in the past, against my own self-discipline, I had to say goodbye. But here she was, the Empress knocking on his door in the middle of the night. How would this end? Would it be easier to just let him go…to finalise whatever wishes he may have if he never did return? What should I tell our daughter? The Empress’s voice whispered again, this time closer to the door. ‘I can see the light from under the door.’ Maybe it was best to just accept defeat. I took a step forward, only to be gently pinned against the cold solid wall, as Harald’s hand cupped over my mouth, his body pressed firmly against mine. Our eyes locked, his eyes alert, but the skin underneath them was dark and sagging. He gently lifted his other hand, bringing his finger to his lips to ensure my silence. I nodded, his palm, however, was still firmly placed against my mouth. The sound of her heels clicking together sounded outside as she uncertainly paced outside the door. Another voice sounded, one much deeper than her lilted tone. ‘Some of the men have gone for a meal, but I must insist that I escort you back to the castle, this is not the place for a lady, the Emperor’s orders.’ The man’s tone reasoning, but firm in conveying this was a direct order of the Emperor. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor sounded as the pair walked down the long corridor, away from Harald’s door.

Harald removed his palm, but his body stayed firmly pressed against mine, his forearm mounted on the wall above my head. ‘Why are you here? Is Twyla okay?’ He asked, his eyebrows knotting in worry as the lines on his forehead involuntarily creased. ‘She’s fine, she is with Emera’ I whispered. ‘I just…I wanted to apologise’ I whispered. ‘I never knew my father, it was just me and my mother. I don’t even know if he knew I existed at all. But it was wrong of me to accuse you of using your children like pawns to get what you wanted.’ He dropped his eyes to the ground, breaking eye contact. ‘And I’m sorry for dismissing your other child…I just, when I saw the Empress, her holding our baby and her arms, and things had been going so well since we moved away from the palace, and maybe I was just too naive in thinking that we were all going to be some happy family’ I just…I just’ I stuttered. ‘I promise you. You are my wife, and you are Twyla’s mother.’ He took his arm from the wall, tracing his finger gently down my arm as he wrapped his hand around mine, the heat from him his naked torso exposing me to the cold as he walked over to the bed. He patted the spot next to him, offering me a seat. ‘This could be treasonous’ he said, battling with whatever thought was running around in his brain. ‘The Empress confided in me that she does not know if the Emperor was capable of giving her children.’ He whispered. I looked back at Harald, a quizzical look on my face. ‘It’s only been a short time…surely that is not enough time to?’ I said, miming a bulging stomach with my hands. ‘She had expected to be at least a mother to his children from his previous marriage…but he had not sired a child at all.’ I looked at our hands, realising they had reconnected, my fingers mindlessly trailing around his palm.

It had begun to make sense. It was no secret Elena was infatuated with Harald long before we stood on the shores of Constantinople. But her effortless flirting and amorous suggestions around him…her need to sire an heir to secure her own marriage. While her desire for Harald was still longstanding, her efforts since her wedding had been newly developed. Having Harald to herself would be a bonus, but having a child would be everything for her. As a woman, as a wife, but in her position, as an Empress, not bearing children for her husband was not an option. ‘I promise, I have been a faithful husband to you since we wed’ he insisted, wrapping his other hand around mine like a security blanket. My heart felt heavy for The Empress…her desire to have a child. Something I hadn’t ever struggled with myself. ‘Speaking of Twyla…when she’s older she may ask questions about her father…and if you weren’t to come back…’ I whispered, bringing my other hand to cup Harald’s. He let out a heavy sigh, his forehead pressing against mine. Something neither of us wanted to think about, but we both knew we had to be practical about it. He took a deep breath, his hands giving a gentle squeeze. ‘Tell me about your father y/n’ he quietly questioned.

I leaned back, looking at him cautiously. My stomach was turning in knots. It felt like a forbidden subject. I remember asking my mother when I was younger, but her response was clear. Never ask. We had never discussed it, but nobody had ever asked me. ‘When I asked my mother about it…she scolded me. There was no attempt to lie or make something up about it. She just said it wasn’t worth discussing ever.’ I shrugged my shoulders, it didn’t seem as much of a deal to me as it appeared to Harald as he glared at me with a pitiful look. ‘I remember I would wonder, for a period of my childhood always intensely looking at the men my mother was around, trying to find any similarities between us. It drove me mad for a while… I suppose I just learnt to live with it.’ Harald nodded, taking in my words as he sat pondering in contemplation. ‘What about your father?’ I asked, sliding further onto the comfort of the small bed.

‘My father Sigurd Syr, he wasn’t a man who chased political ambition as much as his sons. My brother Olaf, my father was very supportive of his leadership and command. But he was modest with his wealth, and took much care of his properties…he was promised the throne…but he didn’t seem to mind so much that his sons wanted it more.’ I admired the way he smiled when talking about his father, similar to the way he smiled when he was with Twyla. Deep down, maybe Harald was similar to his father, a simple family man. But Harald was also very dutiful to his famous lineage, with an equal desire to keep the legacy of his ancestors alive. But how was Twyla going to fit into all of this?

His fingers twined with mine, the words dragging out sorrowfully. ‘I don’t want Twyla to worry about me. That is too cruel a fate to force onto a child’ he whispered, leaning forward slightly. I didn’t know what that meant, but I too didn’t want the same fate for our daughter. I simply nodded, sliding off the bed, and placing my feet gently on the floor. ‘If we don’t see one another again, I will make sure she knows that her father is kind, loyal…and brave’ I mustered out, my throat tightening as the words came out. The aura was depressing, I wanted to leave…but part of me didn’t want to leave Harald Sigurdsson just yet. I stood up slowly, unravelling my hand from his as he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. I gently cupped his cheeks, bringing myself down and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. I leaned down and whispered against his ear, his long hair resting on my lips. ‘Come back to us.’

His eyes rose from the floor, connecting with mine, his eyes flickering as they searched my face. It was like a trance, my limbs no longer in control of my body, an urgency taking over. Instead of slipping my hands away and walking to the door as I planned, instead, my hand moved across his face, smooshing his lips into an awkward purse as my fingers squeezed his cheeks. I knew it would just make things harder…but I couldn’t resist. I pulled his face to mine, pressing my lips tenderly on his. Our lips locked together in a sweet embrace. Harald’s hands quickly cupped my cheeks, pulling my face tighter towards him as he stood up, his lips desperately chasing mine. I slid my hands down to his neck, tenderly pulling away from his lips to connect my lips with his neck.

Gentle pecks on his neck turned greedy as I softly nipped and sucked on his salty skin. He groaned gently, his hands wandering down my chest, one hand cupped gently on my breast, the other balling the fabric of my dress into his palm. I begrudgingly pulled my lips from his neck, the hairs on my arm standing as I whispered into his ear.

‘Take it off’

He didn’t hesitate. Our hands almost fought as he clawed at my dress, the fabric of my dress emitting a gentle rip as he pulled from the collar, revealing the skin of my shoulder, his lips attacking my newly exposed naked skin. I pulled him closer, my hands on the firm curve of his bottom, a firm bulge pressing into my stomach as I dipped my thumbs into the waist of his trousers, basking in the feeling of skin I had not touched in so long. I ran my thumbs around the perimeter feeling the soft hair around his pubis. I reached my fingers inside the front of his trousers, gently slipping one hand to cusp the bulge. He let out a heavy groan, but in typical Harald fashion, was not willing to relent control that easily.

He reached down, pulling my hand from his groin, spinning me around, his hands running from my shoulders, down my arms, until his calloused hands gripped tightly to my wrists, pinning my hands against the wall. His lips attacked my neck, as he pulled my dress down, his lips trailing down my body following each inch of exposed skin. When my dress finally pooled to the floor, my naked body fully exposed, I couldn’t feel the cold anymore. He placed his hands on my hips, spinning me back around the face him. His trousers were only slightly unbuttoned, exposing just the top of his erection. I so desperately wanted to fall to the floor with him, to feel his skin pressed against mine. But instead, his hands still gripped my hips, he pushed me back against the wall, his tongue gliding down from my belly button, as he seamlessly hooked one of my legs over his shoulder.

The pressure of his lips, the swift kisses, the running of his tongue. I quietly tried to contain my moans, but the feeling was too electrifying. But as my hot breaths turned into pants, muffled sighs turned into moans, this only encouraged his efforts further. It was like my skin was on fire, a powerful surge radiating, my legs becoming weaker.

Harald unhooked my arm from his shoulder, sliding me down the wall by my hips, pulling my chest firmly against his as I straddled him, a new wave of pleasure rushing over me as my pulsing heat grinned against his still-clothed bulge. Our tongues collided, but instead of a rushed desperate kiss, it was slow and sensual. I desperately rubbed against him, my hips grinding as my hands caressed his back, pulling him closely so that no gap was left between our skin. He slid his hands around my wrists, pulling my arms around his neck, his arms then looping around my lower back. With no warning, with no effort, Harald lifted me, shuffling onto his knees, and lowering me gently onto the floor without even breaking the contact of our skin. Finally, he reached down, pulling his trousers off.

I waited desperately for contact, for that feeling I hadn’t felt for so long. I arched my back in anticipation, pushing me further against his chest. ‘Do you want this y/n?’ He whispered, the hair in my ears standing to attention. I lifted my neck from the floor, looking straight into his eyes. ‘I want my husband’ I breathlessly moaned out. Harald’s lips reconnected instantly with mine.

As he entered me, I let out a little squeak. The feeling was so tight, I had not expected it after having a child. He stopped immediately, trying to pull out gently. But I ran my hands down his back, gripping onto his butt cheeks to halt his movement. ‘Stay. Right. There’ I whispered between kisses. He stayed there, our lips doing more work as I slowly pushed his hips forward until I felt him completely inside me. Slowly he began to move, the slight sting going away, and the feeling of him inside me became electrifying. His movements were slow, our foreheads pressed together. The only sounds emitting from either of us were our panting breaths.

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We lay on the floor, our legs tangled into one another, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead as I rested in his arms, my arm lazily draped over his stomach. It was like the high was pouring from my body, where I had felt full, I now felt low and empty. My brain rattled, wanting to scream my innermost thoughts. ‘Please don’t leave me. Don’t leave us. Let’s just take a boat and run away.’ My mind racing with any possible scenario, any way of escape. But I knew Harald too well. His loyalties to his family, to his men, to his duty were strong.

‘You have endured so much my love…so I will not lie to you, but I will do everything I can to come back to you both’ he whispered, pulling a blanket from the bed with his free arm, draping it across our bodies as we lay solemnly in each other’s arms. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but the emptiness of his words hit me hard. This could likely be our last moments together forever.

When I finally parted from him in the early hours of the morning, our final exchange was simple. ‘Goodbye, Y/N’. ‘Goodbye Harald Sigurdsson’.

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True to his style, the Emperor wasn’t going to lead his army off into battle without the grandest of ceremonies. I held Twyla on my hip, Mathilda at my side as we watched from the crowds as the Emperor grandly announced how he had trained and built the finest army the empire had ever seen. The Empress sat dutifully at his side, clothed in grand gowns and covered in expensive jewels.

‘Let me introduce to you, our experienced, loyal, and skilled warriors. Harald Sigurdsson!’ The crowd roared in applause, I clutched tightly to Mathilda’s hand, the noise overwhelming. The Emperor stood on the stage, his smile visible from afar, beaming as Harald walked on. He was adorned in uniform, a large helmet within his grip as he obediently bowed to the Emperor, waving at the crowd. ‘He looks so natural up there, don’t you think?’ Mathilda spoke. I simply nodded. But I couldn’t understand how anyone could be so happy standing up there, considering the circumstances. When the crowd’s cheers began to die down, the Emperor need only clap his hands together for his constituents to fall to obedient silence.

‘I also introduce, my personal choice, a great and skilled warrior indeed, General George Maniakes!’ The crowd emitted even larger screams and cheers as the General began walking up the stairs. Like Harald, he bowed to the Emperor, but it was only when he stood and faced the crowd that I realised I had met him before. I leaned into Mathilda, my heart racing as she gripped tightly onto my side, steadying herself with my weight now leaning against her. ‘What’s wrong?’ She asked in a panicky tone. ‘That…That’s him…that’s…it’s his mother’s house’ I stammered. ‘He looks so different…’ I stated, confused by his imposing presence on the stage. My eyes flicked to Harald, who looked tensely at the General.

The Emperor handed a goblet to each of the men, the priest having blessed the contents. The Emperor offered a cheers to the crowd. But the General struck my soul. I looked at him, his eyes directly on me and Twyla. He smirked a sinister smile, lifting his goblet in my direction, laughing deeply as he took in the expression on my face. His face said it all. ‘I know exactly who you are.’

Fuck.

#vikings #vikings valhalla #harald x reader #vikings x reader #harald sigurdsson #imagines #vikings imagine #x reader #valhalla #leif eriksson

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 3 months

Text

Muse || Vaas Montenegro

Warning(s): The Pocky Game, bored Vaas, OC (Liv), Vaas being Vaas, short one-shot.

An unexpected storm blew in from the southwest, hitting the Rook Islands like a freight train. Liv found herself caught in it, hiding in her cage at the outpost like a stray. The wind was so strong that it made the rain feel like needles were pricking her skin. She hugged her body close, but it made no difference. And to make matters worse, Vaas was bored.

Liv never thought she would see the day. On top of being rather clever and unpredictable, Vaas was also creative, even though his ideas were atrocious. She truly believed that braving the storm, as opposed to braving him, was the smartest option; the lesser of two evils.

This is why she was distraught when Carlos forced her from the cage and took her to the hut that Vaas was currently shut up in. At the front door, she turned to the pirate, pleading to him with her eyes.

“It's such a beautiful day. Can't I just sit in my cage and enjoy it?”

Carlos gave her a look of disbelief like she had grown an extra head.

“You have finally lost your fucking mind.”

She would lose more than her mind if she was Vaas’ last option for entertainment.

“He's waiting,” Carlos mentioned, motioning toward the hut.

Liv tossed him an angry look, then plodded through the front door. As she turned the corner into the bedroom, she saw Vaas sitting at the desk in front of the laptop, watching Zack Snyder's ‘Dawn of the Dead’; it was either a pirated copy, or he found it in someone's suitcase. While he seemed content with the movie, he was bouncing his leg like a stressed-out parent beneath the desktop. He cut his eyes to her and opened his mouth, but whatever he was in the process of saying was lost as he noticed the state of her person, soaked from head to toe.

“Were you raised by animals? Go change your fucking clothes. You are getting water on my floor,” Vaas chided. He motioned behind him to a pile of suitcases across the room. Some of them were new. “¿Ya nadie tiene modales (does no one have manners anymore)?”

Liv tightened her jaw. It was not like she wanted to entertain him. She was content with sitting out in the damn storm. Without protesting, she strode over to the suitcases and rummaged through them, choosing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that she could tie off. As she was standing, she noticed a familiar rectangular box amongst the bathroom products.

“No way,” she uttered, picking it up. “Look what I found.”

Vaas paused the movie and peeked over his shoulder, having to squint to read the words printed on the front.

“The fuck is Pocky?”

“It's a snack from Japan, but you can buy them in convenience stores in America,” Liv answered. She looked at the expiration date and grinned in excitement. “Someone must have brought them on the flight over. I love these things. Chocolate is my favorite, but the strawberry sticks are great too.”

Besides movies, Vaas had never seen her so enthralled in something. He had no idea she liked sweets. He snorted and watched her put them down on the bed, before hurrying into the next room with her arms full of clothes. When she reappeared, she snatched up the pink box and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Do you want one?” She asked as she tore open the lid.

Why the fuck not. Vaas shrugged his shoulders. Taking one from her, he took a tentative bite. It was not bad for a biscuit stick with an artificial coating.

“This gets you wet, no?”

Liv felt her face heat up.

“I don't know what it is about them, but they are like crack.”

Vaas snorted.

“My friends and I used to play the Pocky Game with them. Invite a big group and see who would bitch out first,” she added. “It's an innocent game, though it led to a few weird hookups. And there's even a drinking game.”

Vaas could not imagine what sort of game she was referring to. The name seemed ridiculous enough.

“Show me.”

Liv felt her heart race.

“I don't think you'd like it. I mean…it's a game for teenagers.”

“Fóllame (fuck me). You brought it up,” Vaas pointed out. He switched from the chair to the bed, snatching the box from her. “Show me. Come on.”

Liv tightened her jaw. Why did she have to mention the game?

“So, you take a stick and put one end in your mouth, and I put the other end in mine. We have to maintain eye contact as we each eat to the middle. If the stick breaks, or one of us bitches out, then we lose. It's a tie if…if we kiss.”

Vaas grinned. “Lady and the Tramp, no?”

Liv nodded. It was exactly like that. She figured the concept of the game would sound childish to Vaas, that he would turn it down, but when he slid a stick from the box and placed the coated end against her lips, her heart raced.

“Be a good girl, querida (darling). Ábreme (open up for me).”

She nearly whined. As much as she did not want to anger him, she was nervous. Vaas was in no way a coward. She knew that he would take it to the end and kiss her. But was she ready for that? She was not sure.

“There are other games we can–”

“Abre tu boca por mí (open your mouth for me).” Interjected Vaas.

Hesitantly, she did so. Vaas slid the coated end into her mouth, then placed the other end into his mouth. His eyes kept hers as they began to eat the Pocky, but even he could see how nervous she was. Her pale skin was red as though she had sat hours in the sun and her blue eyes were glossy. When their lips came close to touching, he reached up and flicked the stick hard, breaking it.

Liv sat back in shock. Why did he do that? She took the remaining stick from her mouth and tried to ask him, but Vaas gently squeezed her cheeks, puckering her lips; she reminded him of a Naso Tang.

“First kisses have to be special, no?” He winked, then released her.

Tossing her a stick, Vaas stood with a grin.

“Like crack, you say.”

He knew Liv would snap him out of his boredom. She was his muse after all.

It was later that she learned what Vaas did with the remaining sticks, playing a twisted version of the Pocky Game with a few prisoners who were unfortunate enough to not have buyers. Their partners were not humans, however, but vicious crocodiles and cassowaries.

Liv was fortunate, she realized, and never whined again about having to entertain Vaas.

#vaas montenegro x oc #far cry 3 fandom #vaas montenegro #far cry 3 fanfiction #oc #oc: liv #i was bored #eating pocky

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eurydicees · 4 months

Note

A & 18

(Also heeeeyy I’m back)

yo yo yo !!! sorry this took four months to answer and then like. iirc isn't even a fandom you like. my bad. well. here's a fic.

swim to shore (where i'll be waiting)

summary: you are growing up, and you are afraid of losing him. prompt: (A) my crowd pleaser playlist + (18) faithfully (journey) pairings: kenma kozume/tetsurou kuroo words: 2499 warnings: none notes: this is in 2nd person pov because i was feeling experimental lmfao. give it a chance. shake things up a bit.

change

You’re eleven and he’s twelve and you’re not—you’re not drifting apart, exactly, not quite, but you can feel something shifting in the air when he goes to junior high and you stay in elementary school. Junior high brings Kuroo many things: a new walk to school, one that doesn’t involve you; a new building to wander the hallways of; new classes where he figures out he actually kind of loves school, because he’s a nerd like that.

It also brings him a new volleyball team. Volleyball brings him many things, too; things like friends who aren’t you, who like to do things that Kuroo likes to do, who don’t really understand why Kuroo stays so attached to someone a year behind in age and quite a few behind in the desire to socialize.

You’re not drifting apart, you tell yourself. But it would be fine if you did, if that’s what Kuroo wanted, if that’s what would make Kuroo happy, you tell yourself. It would be fine. It would be fine.

It’s summertime, and they have a brief respite from school in which you don’t have to think about things like how Kuroo is spending more and more time with his volleyball team and less and less time with you and your video games.

You can’t really blame him—Kuroo likes your games, or at least you think he does, but he would much rather play outside than play virtually. So it makes sense then that would be spending more time with people who also like to play outside or on the court or on a soccer field or whatever it is they do when you’re not around, limiting them.

You’re not drifting apart, exactly, not quite. But still: as things shift, as things change, as you begin to lose your grip on his friendship and he begins to tighten his hold on your heart, you cannot really blame him for any of it.

jump

Right now: it’s summer, and it’s warm, and your parents take you and him to the beach for a weekend. You stay in a little motel near the water, close enough that your parents tell the two of you to just go out and explore.

You’re not allowed to actually swim until the next day, when your parents are watching and there’s a lifeguard on duty. But as soon as Kuroo gets the go-ahead, he’s taking you by the hand and dragging you to the water.

You don’t think you like swimming in the ocean very much. The sand sticks to between your toes and to the bottom of your feet and when the water dries on your skin, it feels itchy and stiff. But you follow him into the water anyway.

At some point, he spots a small pier a little ways off. He drags you there, too.

The two of you stand at the edge, and suddenly the water feels a lot farther down than it had looked to be from shore. Kuroo stands with his toes hanging over the edge of the pier but the rest of his feet firmly on the wooden planks. He has not let go of your hand.

“I’ll jump if you do,” he says.

“Absolutely not,” you say.

He laughs at that, nudging your shoulder a little bit. He says, “Where’s your sense of adventure?” but he sounds just as nervous as you feel.

You sigh. He’s not going to give up until you’re both in the water. This is how Kuroo is. Once he gets his mind set on something, he’ll push and train and try harder and harder and harder until he can get it. He’s dedicated like that.

The word devoted comes to mind, too, but that’s not quite right. You’re not sure what he’s really devoted to other than volleyball.

“Count of three,” you mutter, giving in.

He squeezes your hand. Softly, almost embarrassed of his fear, of his need for comfort, for you: “Don’t let go until we’re in the water.”

“I won’t,” you promise. “I won’t.”

And then he counts to three. You jump. You do not let go of him.

need

Here’s the thing: he has always needed you, and you have always needed him. The two of you have always stayed side by side, hip to hip, hand to hand. You fill in each other’s blanks, take over speaking when the other loses his words, shake off the hurt that the other cannot bear on his own. You have always needed each other.

But Kuroo is branching out now. You’re growing up, the both of you, even if it sometimes feels that he’s growing up faster. Time is passing, time has always been passing, time has never stopped passing, and he’s going into high school while you stay back in junior high.

You’ve felt this separation before, keenly, like a knife resting against a heartstring and threatening to cut. You’ve been through it before, where Kuroo finds a new routine and new classes and new friends, a new team. Where you stay behind in what’s become comfortable in your years at junior high.

It’s kind of funny. He moves forward before you, charges ahead in life, while you stay back. He jumps in, and you wait for him to test the waters before you wade in ever so carefully, too. You’re always chasing after him, always a few paces behind. Never quite losing track of him or drifting away, but never catching up either.

There was a time when it wasn’t like this. He was just as shy and reserved as you still are. He needed you to fill in blanks that he can now fill in himself. He needs you, probably, still, in some way, but you’re not sure how to give that to him.

It used to feel almost like you could read his mind. You were on the same page about everything that mattered. But you’re growing up. Now you feel almost as if you’ve forgotten the language.

stay

You join him at Nekoma, because you have never not followed him. You have never given up on chasing after things you don’t know how to reach. You have never given up on him.

He doesn’t give up on you, either. He says they need you. He says you’re invaluable. He says they need a strategist like you. That you see the game in a way none of the others do. Maybe it’s true. Maybe not. But there are other words under what he’s saying. There are things he’s holding back. There are things that he is maybe afraid to say, or things he doesn’t want you to hear.

The first and second years need your mind. The team needs your skill. And I need you.

But maybe you’ve forgotten how to read him. Maybe you’re hearing things you want to hear, instead of what he’s actually saying. Maybe there’s no subconscious messaging here. Maybe he really is only talking about the good of the team.

Maybe. Maybe not. But you stay on the team.

look

The night before he is made captain of the volleyball team, he stays over at your house. He sleeps in your bed with you. This is how you have always done it. Though now you no longer fit together in sleep like you used to, limbs too long and bodies too big and hearts pounding too loud, you manage to fall asleep together on your twin-size mattress.

When you wake, he is watching you. He closes his eyes as soon as you blink your own eyes open. He pretends that he is still asleep. He is not a good actor.

“I know you’re awake,” you tell him, voice hoarse and eyes still a little foggy.

He hums. “No, I’m not.”

“You were watching me,” you accuse, though there isn’t much annoyance in it, or really any accusation at all.

“No, I wasn’t.”

You roll your eyes, and then roll over onto your back. Yawning, you say, “Yes, you were. Creep.”

He doesn’t say anything. You turn your head to look at him, and his eyes are squeezed shut, like he’s afraid to open them.

“Kuroo?”

He squeezes his eyes shut tighter.

look, pt. 2

You think of all the times you have watched him sleep: waking up before him at a sleepover or a training camp, trying to drink in the sight of him at peace for as long as you can, trying to memorize what his face looks like without that line of tension in his forehead, trying to take him into your heart so that, when he wakes and starts looking at other people, you can hold onto this tiny, private moment.

You think of all the times you have watched him from behind: watching him flirt with other people when he thinks you aren’t there, watching him laugh with the rest of the team when you aren’t around for him to fuss over, watching him score a point in a game and then celebrate with someone else.

You think of all the times he has raised an eyebrow when he feels you staring at him while lost in thought, and you have turned away, caught and ashamed. You think of all the time he has looked at you looking at him, and you have dropped your gaze to anything else, anything at all, because if he were to know how much you love him, you think you would lose everything.

You think back to Kuroo, as a child. You think about the language you used to read in his eyes. You think about the words you have lost. You think about the silent messages he has been sending you for a long time now, the ones that you thought you were maybe reading wrong now that you've both grown up.

“Kuroo?” you ask again.

He opens his eyes. There is something weary in them, something tired of hiding. He’s embarrassed and he’s tired and he’s sad and you have not forgotten his language at all. You have just grown too afraid to say something back.

stay, pt. 2

It’s not that you dislike volleyball. You don’t love exercising, and the conditioning is hellish for you, but it’s not that you dislike volleyball. You enjoy watching it, at least. Playing it is an entirely different matter, but even then, you don’t dislike it. It’s more that you play it for reasons other than the game itself.

Kuroo plays volleyball because he is in love with the sport. He is in love with playing, with winning, with pushing himself to get better, with pushing other people to get better. He is in love with competition and with growing stronger.

You play volleyball because you—even if you will not admit it to yourself—love the people who want you to do it. You play volleyball because Kuroo asked, because Fukunaga makes you laugh, because Yamamoto brings out the competitive side of you.

It’s not that you dislike volleyball, especially after your first year at Nekoma ends. Kuroo becomes captain, and a little insufferable about making you do stretches and drills properly. Kai becomes vice captain, and remains as encouraging as ever, even if now he’s a little harder on you about practicing your receives.

It’s not that you dislike volleyball. But the sport itself is not why you stay.

need, pt. 2

“Kuroo?”

He exhales, slow, and you feel his breath on your lips. You roll onto your side to fully face him, and shift a little closer. Just a little. Not enough for it to be noticeable, but you know that he notices. He always notices you. You wonder why you’ve never really realized that before—for as long as you’ve been studying him, he’s been studying you. Learning your language.

“I was watching,” he admits. He could turn it into a joke, he could say it with a laugh, he could brush it off as inconsequential, but instead he says: “Sorry.”

You stare. “Why?”

He shrugs, and closes his eyes again. He looks beautiful like this. You watch him just breathe for a moment. He opens his mouth, maybe some defense prepared and ready, and then closes it. It takes another moment before he actually speaks.

“I didn’t mean to be creepy.”

“I was kidding,” you reassure him. You thought he would know that. “It’s fine, Kuro.”

“It’s a little weird,” he says.

He opens his eyes and meets your gaze. There is something so blindingly intense there that you almost want to turn away. But you refuse to turn away from him anymore. For the first time in a long time, you’re listening. You’re listening.

“I want you a little too much for it not to be weird,” he breathes out.

Not need, but want.

His breath is warm. Not for the first time, you think about kissing him.

jump, pt. 2

You jump off the pier together, holding hands, and you come crashing down into the water only a moment later. You barely have time to capture breath and close your eyes before you’re surrounded by ocean.

He lets go of your hand when you hit the water so you can both swim without taking the other down. You squeeze your hand in a fist, and then unfurl your fingers and relax your palms. You come up for air.

Kuroo reached the surface faster than you did. He’s always been the stronger swimmer. But he stayed there, treading water in the same place he jumped down. He is waiting for you.

change, pt. 2

You watch him for a moment, eyes soft. He looks back, waiting for you to say something. Waiting for a rejection, maybe, or for you to push him out of the bed. You don’t. You would never.

“I want you too,” you manage to choke out. “You know that.”

He swallows, hard and uncomfortable. “I guess.”

“I do.” You think maybe you’re shaking, but maybe it’s just in your head. “I do.”

“Kenma,” he says, voice rough and unsure. “Tell me to fuck off if I—cross a line.”

“You won’t,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “Tell me. You have to tell me.”

“Okay, okay. I will. I’ll tell you.”

You won’t have to. You know you won’t have to. You have never drawn a line between you and him. Not because you are one and the same, not because you’re dependent on each other to live, but because you choose to want him.

You love him, as he is and was and will be; as change comes and goes; as time passes and passes and passes; and the tide rolls in and out. You love him, not because you are dependent on him nor he on you, but because, just as you have helped him, he has helped you grow stronger on your own.

You hold on. You jump. You let go. You come up for air.

He kisses you.

#my writing #haikyuu #kuroken #kenma kozume #tetsurou kuroo #kozume kenma #kuroo tetsurou #hq kenma #kuroo x kenma #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic

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pampushky · 2 months

Text

Creature (Both Haunted & Holy)

Vinsmoke Sanji/Reader - Chapter 14 - 5.6k

Sanji deals with his past. You grow closer to him because of this.

ao3 | series masterlist | masterlist | next part

Miss Wednesday watches you closely as you spar with Zoro. You’ve gotten stronger, over the past two months with the trident and regular training, the change was visible, with the muscle on your arms slowly but steadily growing back, still thin from your captivity, but healing. You had even become more confident, teaching the members of the crew what some of your rumbles meant.

“So… it’s like this,” you let out a rumble, which roughly translated to a very casual greeting, often used between siblings, which is arguably closest to your relationship with the crew. Luffy scrunches up his face and repeats, or at least he thinks he does, what you rumbled to him.

It comes out sounding like the rumble for ‘piss’, but you try to encourage him. You’ll know what he means when he rumbles ‘piss’ at you, at least. Zoro managed to pick up the rumble for ‘poke’ which he’s started using to catch your attention, rather than calling you “Seal” or by your name. It’s a bit cute, the way he grunts after he does it as if to adjust his vocal cords back to English. Usopp and Nami simply enjoy listening to your little rumbles, asking you to say a few different things.

Sanji, however, is melodic. His rumbles and trills have an unusual accent that makes your hindbrain preen when he rumbles in the back of his throat. He’s managed to piece together a few things, with the grammar and pitch, and it’s even caused a few adorable moments between you as he tries to formulate sentences for you, even if that's not how it works.

Occasionally, he’ll string together words he knows, to make new words for things he isn’t sure how to rumble to you, and it makes you so happy, especially when he answers your trill with a smattering of his native tongue, grinning at you widely as you ask to perform a trade of sorts, learning a few words of French while you teach him how to make the various sounds that made up the Selken dialect.

Overall, life on the Going Merry is wonderful. Zoro hated to admit it, but you were a natural with Tide. You had learned the basics quickly and had moved on to consulting your journal, frowning down at its pages while stretching for a sparring match after he had helped you with weight training.

“I wish he was here to teach me,” You grumble, looking at the sloppily drawn form of a move your grandfather had drawn onto the page. What looked like water— honestly, you couldn’t tell with some of these smudges of ink— swirled over the crudely drawn trident.

“Are you saying you don’t enjoy spending time with me?” Zoro faked a scowl, as you switched sides to stretch more. He grins, however, when you let out a low rumble of Watch it, side-eyeing him. Barely, just barely, he can see your pupils in the sun, alight with amusement.

“I’m saying I’d like a more specialized teacher,” You lean forward, reaching to touch your toes, a more recent achievement that had shown your flexibility had started to return. “Especially one who didn’t break two of his weapons before I met him.”

“That! Was not my fault!” Zoro snaps, and you snicker, getting up from your stretch, and lifting Tide. “He was insane, seal!”

“You’re just mad you lost.”

“I’ll never lose again, though.” He grins at you, viciously, and your hindbrain growls in excitement. Zoro was like a male version of your older sister, Toha. She had been strong as an ox, and rather stubborn. Had things gone to plan, she would have likely inherited Tide, but very rarely did fate ever listen. But, you have Zoro in your life now. He is not a replacement, as no one could ever replace Toha, but he helps. Cuffs you over the ear when your form slips when sparring, but watches you carefully as you lift weights. You suspect that you remind him of someone else, too.

Your eyes glance over at the bluenette who simply watches the two of you, one of her hands holding her chin. She’s analyzing you, ready to pick apart your moves at a moment's notice. But she never says anything, just watches and asks how much further Whiskey Peak is, huffing whenever she gets an answer.

But you know. Anxiety’s rotten stench rolls off her in waves. Concern, hatred, and love, a deep, deep, committed love, buried deep under all the rest. You aren’t sure who exactly she is, after all of that. So you wait for her to crack, to see who waits behind all the masks.

You manage to knock Zoro to the deck, with a lucky hit to his gut, striking him with the butt of Tide, sending him to the ground with a loud thump that shakes the ceiling of the storage room below. Sanji only hazards a glance up with a sigh as he makes his way to the kitchen, balancing a bag of brown rice on his hip.

He glances back at the notated cookbook that Crocus had given them, tilting his head. “Where the hell am I supposed to get penguin meat from?” He mumbles, setting the bag of grain on the counter, and pulling the book closer. “I.. didn’t know krill could be eaten.”

…Kelp, fish, squid, penguin, and krill among others are favorites of leopard seal selkies– they not only help with their pelt gaining a nice shine in their selken and seal forms but also help with the growth of the former. It should be noted…

Sanji sets the book down and ponders what exactly he just read. He knows you have three forms– he’s seen them all between your duties as boatswain and in minor skirmishes– but he didn’t expect the Selken one to be… so, involved, he supposes.

…. the Selken form’s power and size are often affected by the quality of life a selkie has had. Obviously, this can lead to quite a visible portrayal of inequity among selkenfolk. Simply put, the healthier the diet and lifestyle of the selkie, the larger the selken form. Periods of malnutrition can cause stunted growth, if nutrition is not properly added back to the diet. Pell Blackfin, for example, had a rather rough childhood, but is still an utterly massive specimen, benefiting from a better diet and still growing, being nearly thirteen-and-a-half feet long from tail to head, at his current age of forty-two…

So did that mean your growth had been stunted for the past two years? You were large in that form, or, Sanji thought you were. Maybe you were small compared to others of your race. What about other seal types? Another thump, this time on the side of the galley, making the pots and pans along the wall clatter together.

“Now what on earth–” Sanji starts, walking out the door only to see you, pinning Zoro to the wall, the swordsman frozen to the outside of the galley by a large chunk of ice holding down one of his arms. A sword is at your throat, so it seems to have come to a draw. Frost coats part of the door, and there’s a noticeable drop in temperature around the two of you. You’re half coated in the frost, your breath coming out in visible puffs as you slowly look over at Sanji, panting.

You drop Zoro, the ice melting away, yet the air seems to hum with energy, the water continuing to flow around you, almost like a halo as it slowly swirls around your body. Tide is tight in the grip of your hand, somehow still ringing.

“Sorry about that, Sanji.” You tilt your head to the side, swiping your hair out of your eyes with your free hand. “We’ll keep sparring to the lower deck now. Don’t wanna break anything in the kitchen.”

“Much appreciated,” Sanji can’t help but laugh a bit, and you grin. “Oh, I would like to talk to you about something Crocus wrote.”

“Hm?” You dismiss the water, letting it splash back into the ocean, as you follow him into the kitchen, the swordsman yawning as he settles into the couch.

“Crocus has linked a diet to that mermaid-like form of yours,” He points to the drawing the doctor had done of what he assumed was your grandfather, based on what you had shared about the man.

The image is a stunningly realistic drawing of the merged form, with the selkie’s tail curling around him as he swam underwater, eyes catching the light and seeming to reflect back at the viewer. It was haunting, really.

You look at the picture, and then at what had been written, responding with a confused rumble. “That’d make sense, I think.” You look at him, with slightly pursed lips. “I honestly think you would know best, as you are the cook here.”

So you’re placing your health and eventual restoration in his hands. That’s not stressful at all. And it certainly doesn’t freak him out and worry him. This isn’t about feeding you, he would happily make you whatever dish you wanted. He balanced the crew’s nutrition as well, but they had all been (mostly) healthy beforehand. He could hide carrots and spinach in meat hand-pie to make sure Luffy got enough vitamins, and would carefully craft fillings for Zoro’s rice balls. That was a given. And it was easy enough.

But to balance the entirety of your eventual well-being on his skill as a cook, well, it did make him a bit nervous. Certainly, you are doing much better now. But that could have been sheer dumb luck with the small amount of knowledge Zeff had left him with. And looking over what foods were best for your variety of selkie, there is next to nothing on the ship you can eat to gain the proper nutrition as quickly as he’d like you to.

He doesn’t even mean to, but he starts muttering to himself in French, going through the food in the fridge based on his current list. You can smell his anxiety over it, like burnt bread and sugar. Zoro looks at you, raising an eyebrow, and you shrug, turning back to Sanij and placing a hand on his shoulder, which startles him a bit.

“Hey, I trust you,” You hold up your hands, palms out. “You’re the expert here, and you’ve already helped me so much.”

“I… suppose so,” but he doesn’t sound certain of himself. You only offer a loud rumble, squeezing his shoulder again before you leave the kitchen, going back to sparring on the lower deck.

For dinner, he’s finally decided to make you salmon meunière, with a side of stewed carrots to get you your greens, and of course, many soft rolls he had placed in the middle of the table for the entire crew. You gasp when you try your first bite, looking at him immediately as you grin from behind your hand, hiding how you’re chewing.

“Sanji— this is delicious,” you rumble, and he only bows his head slightly. “Thank you!”

You eat that filet, and then a second helping, thanking him again for going out of his way to make you something. And he does notice that your hair does have a healthy shine in it— it’s probably soft, too. You hug him tightly, before going to bed, grinning up at him.

“See? You’re doing great. Stop being so worried about me and take care of yourself.”

“I guess I can,” he musters up a smile he hopes looks convincing, while also trying to hide how frazzled he is by your touch. “Good night.”

As Sanji goes to sleep, lying in his hammock, his mind wanders.

He doesn’t remember much of his life in the period between Germa and Zeff. He knows he worked on a few different ships, usually whoever would hire a child. It’s bad, he assumes, that he can’t really recall any major events from those two years. But he remembers every painful moment of the eighty-five days after he had met Zeff and every moment after he started calling the man his father.

Every birthday, every lecture. It had always been better than what he had gone through in Germa. Because Zeff actually cared about him.

“Shh…. Shhh…. That’s it, little eggplant, let it out.”

Zeff was holding a ten-year-old Sanji on his lap, gently running his hands up and down his back as the boy sobbed. It had been about a year since they had been stuck on the rock. And it still haunted him. He would wake up with an endless hunger sometimes, shaking from how he felt he was starving, crying, begging for Zeff to give him anything.

And that would usually end in Sanji eating breakfast so fast he ended up puking, unable to touch any other food for the rest of the day. But the hunger would remain. Sanji would sob in his dad’s arms, begging for him to make it stop as he would retch and eventually vomit up stomach bile into the basin Zeff would hold under him.

What could he do to help him? Nothing. So Zeff would just hold him, letting him sob into his arms, and promising Sanji that he would never go hungry again and that if he could, Zeff would pluck the very stars from the sky to make his tears go away.

Another spasm wracked the boy’s already thin body as he puked again, exhausted by his sickness, unable to do much but whimper.

“It’s okay, I’m here, Sanji.” Zeff gently pushed his bangs from his eyes, letting him rest his head on his chest. “You’re safe here, my poor son…”

Sanji shuddered at those words, looking up at Zeff with watery eyes. “M’sorry, m’sorry— I’ll clean it up—”

“Don’t apologize, you’re okay,” Zeff began to pat his back, trying to get him to fall asleep. “It’s me, It’s Zeff, Sanji.”

He whimpered again, hiding his face in the man’s shirt, one hand scrunching the fabric in a tight fist.

“You’re in the East Blue. On the Baratie. You’ll be able to eat as much as you want, you’re safe here.” He gently squeezed the boy, letting him cry into his shirt. “I’m proud of you, and I love you, Sanji.”

Sanji whimpers as the guard enters his cell, backing him into a corner. The boy holds tightly onto his helmet, sniffling when the man comes another step closer. Snot and tears run down his face, and the last thing he wants is to have the mouthpiece locked back into place.

“Please! Just tonight! Please!” Sanji wails, and the guard pauses, before moving closer, and as delicately as possible, pinning the boy to the wall, and fitting the key into the back of the helmet, the mouthpiece whining as it clicks back to its normal position when he’s not eating. “N-no! Please! I’ll be good!”

The guard leaves then, letting Sanji curl in on himself in the corner of the room, hiccuping and crying as he tries to pry the mouthpiece away so he can breathe properly.

It doesn’t budge. The metal starts to dig into the skin of his fingers until it starts to bleed, thin cuts where the joints of his fingers move. Maybe if he hadn’t been born so weak, this would have been easy for him. His Father would have loved him, just as he loved his siblings.

But he was born a failure. That had been hammered into his head for every moment he hadn’t been able to challenge his brothers. It had been beaten into him by his brother’s kicks, and Judge tossing him around as though he were nothing but a ragdoll.

He was a useless prince.

Sanji eventually cries himself to sleep, which is when Zeff takes his chance to clean the boy up, gently wiping away his tears and any residue of his sickness with a warm washcloth, and carefully changing him into fresh clothing. He would then move him to sleep in his bed, staying awake until the early hours, just to be sure Sanji wasn’t going to be sick again, letting him sleep on his chest.

It got better over the years. Sanji learned how to cope with his past, and his hunger. But there would always be bad days. Like the most recent one, when he had been freshly nine-teen. Sanji had been on the verge of a panic attack the entire day, unable to truly regulate his hunger. He had gone through half of his pack of cigarettes by the time Zeff had asked him if he was okay.

Sometimes, he still felt the hunger pangs. Still felt as though Judge was leaning over him, constantly watching and mocking him. His brothers were there too, sneering at him, while Reiju would just stand by, not doing anything to help Sanji. Like now, when he wakes up with his stomach crying out for food, despite knowing he had just eaten dinner.

There isn’t anything he can really do in these moments. Unfortunately, he’s having one of them as he wakes in a panic, his stomach aching as he stumbles out of the men's quarters and to the galley.

There’s really nothing he can do to make the pain go away. So he’ll start to prep for breakfast, even if it’s two in the morning.

The smell of distress hits you like a brick as you patrol the deck, carried to you by a stray breeze. It’s your turn to keep watch for the night, and the scent makes your hindbrain growl. You know each of your podmate’s scents by heart now, and how each subtle change is linked to an emotion. Sanji’s scent is one that you’ve found yourself yearning for it. It’s lemons, sugar, and tobacco, and it winds its way around your mind like a snare.

The distress is similar to his anxiety, but the lemons are rotted, and the tobacco has turned more to cheap cigarette smoke. Your mind coos for you to find him, to comfort him and envelope him in your scent. It makes you want to protect him, the deep rumble of your instincts egging you on as you smell the air. The scent’s carried to you on the wind, coming from the galley now. This confirms your suspicions, as you watch the kitchen light get flicked on. You wait around fifteen minutes, waiting to see if perhaps he is just wandering. After the light stays on, you cross the deck with a careful jump, cushioning your landing with water pulled from the air, coating your boots. It’s a trick you’ve learned from your sparring, that’s come to be rather useful. Carefully, you knock on the door before you enter.

What you find is a slightly disheveled-looking Sanji standing at the island, mincing what looks like fish filets, almost appearing to be ground meat. His distress is potent in the air, and your hindbrain growls. You have to fight the urge to not scent him, and hold yourself steady by the door, fighting a mental battle with yourself so you don’t come on too strong.

He mutters your name in shock, eyes wide. “What.. what are you doing up, it’s so late—”

“I could smell your distress,” Your instincts win out, as you approach him, crossing the kitchen rather easily. He’s a bit jumpy at your forwardness, as you warble over him. “I’m on watch tonight, I should be asking why you’re awake, Sanji.”

He falters a bit at that, stammering. “What– you don’t need to worry about me–”

“You’re my pod,” you say sternly, but not unkindly, looking at the state of the kitchen with a frown. Things were set out and prepped as if he was starting his work for the day. “It’s my job to worry. Especially if you’re not being kind to yourself.”

Sanji doesn’t have an answer to that and bites his lower lip, unable to meet his gaze.

“C’mon, let me clean this up,” you rumble gently, nudging him towards a chair. “You need to rest.”

He watches as you clean up for him, humming some sea shanty to yourself as you do so. You even pour him a glass of water, noticing his shakes from his phantom pain, though you don’t know that’s the reason why he's so disheveled.

“Let me make you some tea,” You rumble, watching and he plays with his fingers. This makes him look at you directly, mouth hanging open, shocked.

“I– You’re too kind,” Sanji blushes as you gently push him to sit on a stool, as you bustle around the kitchen. “You really don’t need to–”

You let out a low rumble, a noise he and everyone else on the ship had grown used to. Leave it, and what a wonderfully playful smile you have as you rumble at him, and he quiets, chuckling as you glare at him in mock frustration, not really meaning anything cruel by it. You shuffle around the kitchen, sniffing the air before opening any cabinets, gathering what you need with shocking accuracy, as you haven’t really gone through everything. Stacked carefully in your arms are jars of cinnamon sticks, star anise, cardamom, and many more, carefully settled on the counter. You pull a pot down from the wall, flicking on the stovetop to set the water to boil. Before he knows it, from just watching the way you move around the room, cracking open a few cardamom pods and crushing ginger under a large knife, the sweet smell of a spicy, milk tea fills his nose.

“You.. you know how to make chai?” Sanji watches as you pour fresh milk into the pot, turning the drink a lovely, pale brown.

“Is that what you call it?” You look up, setting the milk on the counter. “This is just what my Mama used to make. It’s been passed down through her pod for ages.”

“Smart woman,” Sanji laughs a bit. It’s easier to not notice his hunger when you’re talking to him. “Probably could have been friends with mine.”

“She was wonderful,” you rumble happily, sounding nostalgic. “Her name was Sion, she was our village’s historian. Never raised her voice at me, or really anyone.” You chuckle a bit at that. “Sea Mother knows my siblings and I could have used it.”

Sanji hummed. “Sounds like my mom, she was gentle and sweet. Even with my sister and brothers.”

Brief memories of her smile. The shine in her hair when she had been healthier. It made Sanji’s heart ache with loneliness, and miss her even more. The way she would hold him, and whisper to him in French, keeping her language alive in defiance of Judge. Teaching him more and more with every visit, until it became their own language. Just for them to communicate with. And eventually, just for Sanji, spoke it to Zeff to keep his conversational skills alive.

“I didn’t know you had any siblings,” you mused, setting a mug in front of him, the smell mixing with your own was almost intoxicating. Sanji briefly wondered if he could bottle a smell, or color match the slight blush of your cheeks as you pull the pot off the stove. “You keep to yourself, you know.”

“So I’ve been told,” he brings the mug up to his lips, savoring the smell, and the sweet taste of the tea. It had to be the best he had ever had, it made him feel like he was on some sort of a high. He wants to feel as warm as this tea makes him feel forever if it means you’ll be there to keep his hunger pangs at bay. “This is wonderful, thank you.”

“Of course,” you smile at him, filling your own mug before you clean out the pan and tea strainer. “You don’t have to talk about your family if you don’t want to.”

“Ah, it’s just that I don’t consider them family anymore,” he hopes he hides the way his eyes water a bit, at the thought of his father and siblings. “They were rather shit.”

He does hate that he still shied away from a man’s touch— and it’s not as if he knows it’s unreasonable. He’d lain with men before, had nights of passion with them, and had felt the gentle touch of love they could offer. But he still shied away from it. Saw Yonji in the green of Zoro’s hair when he hadn’t slept well, and felt his skin prickle in fear from the aggression. The red of Luffy’s vest reminded him of Ichiji, and sometimes he swore he could hear his laughter when he would occasionally burn himself while cooking. It terrified him. His siblings had grown, most certainly, no longer the cruel children they had once been. But they probably hadn’t changed. He saw the newspapers singing Germa 66's glory. Their prowess. Which is why he would hide his name from his crew.

You can smell his sadness, and you warble. Courted. Upset. Comfort. Your instincts insist, and for once you agree, though not about the first part, not yet.

“I’m sorry.” You say softly, and your gaze is so kind, almost sad as you look at him, mug held in your hands as you sip from it. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Now, he’s not sure why he’s shocked by your offer or your kindness. You’ve shown nothing but kindness to everyone— even strangers like the Baroque Works people— only ever growing aggressive when your pod was threatened. Sanji doesn’t think about how he is part of your pod now, and can smell it in the way you’ve scented the entire ship, or when you read through your grandfather’s journal while leaning against him. You are his crewmate, and podmate now. Nothing more than that.

“It’s… not very happy.” He wants to look strong to you. To be able to brush off what his family had done to him as nothing. But it gets hard when you reach over and gently ask if you can hold his hand, to which he allows. You squeeze his hand as if to say that you were there. “You’ll be sad. I don’t want to ruin a good night.”

“Mm. But you do need your rest.” You slip into a stool beside him, brushing against his shoulder, rumbling. “You deserve to rest, y’know. You’ve been working and cooking the entire day, Ji’.”

Sanji really, really wants to believe that. Especially with how you shortened his name. But he can feel Judge’s eyes on him, even all the way in the grand line. Can tell how exactly his father would have torn him to pieces for serving someone else— to serve a selkie of all things— and to be actively falling in love with one. His heart stops at that thought. He’s in love with you. There’s no way he deserves that right.

The coughing fit from the chef startles you, especially when he braces one of his hands against the counter, spilling tea over his hands, and the mug crashing to the floor.

“Ah, shit,” he mumbles, going down to pick up his now broken mug, ignoring the feeling of the sharp ceramic cutting his skin as he picks it up. Your hindbrain growls at the smell of his blood, and you crouch down beside him, gently taking his hand and carefully removing the shards.

He only flinches slightly but doesn’t move, only looking at you with an open mouth as you let out a hmm, lifting up his hand. You walk to the sink, pulling him behind you. Before he can stop you, you’re making the water from the tap swirl around his hand. He can hear the way it whines, being pulled directly from the faucet. But you’re calm as ever, fingers seeming to weave the water over his skin, almost appearing to make it glow as his skin knits back together underneath the blood he had bled.

The ache from the cut fades, and there is no scar left to show what happened. You smile at him, letting the water splash into the sink, and examining his skin carefully.

“There we go… good as new,” You run your thumb over where he had bled, wiping away the smear of blood. “You said your hands were precious to you, no?”

“They are, yes,” Sanji stutters, as you turn his hand so you can trace the lines of his palm, simply fidgeting with him. “I use them to cook– to help people. That’s why–” he can’t even stop the gasp from leaving his mouth when you lace your fingers with his, almost experimentally.

“Then they are precious to me,” You drop his hand, and your brain protests, especially when you look up at him and his big, pretty eyes. “Oh, your eyes…” His bangs had been swept aside in the mild rush to take care of his hand, and you realize this is the first you’ve seen of him like that, his entire face on display for you to see. And it makes you flush. He is beautiful, without a single blemish on his skin, and you wonder why he keeps his bangs styled like that.

And his eyes, oh his eyes. You had never realized that he had two different colored eyes. The one that is visible most of the time is a dark gray-brown, almost the perfect match to the stones on the beaches of your home island. The other is a stunning, sky blue. It’s beautiful.

“Yes, they’re weird,” he murmurs, shying away from your touch, and letting his bangs cover his eyes again, unable to look at you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you–”

The prospective mate, the deep Selken instinct to compliment, to lavish him in all the love you can give, and to make sure he is happy and well taken care of, groans. It takes you biting your bottom lip so you don’t warble at how he talks about himself or isolates himself. He’s been so kind to you, so patient, from the moment he met you in Cocoyashi, and it breaks your heart to see how he treats himself. But the logical part of you, the person in control, holds back. You need time, you know this, and the last thing you need to do is to rush into something before you’ve even started to heal.

“They’re not,” You hazard a touch against his cheek, keeping his bangs out of his face, looking into his eyes in wonder, a deep, happy rumble in your chest as you speak. Your courted, the man that your hindbrain has identified as a prospective mate, is some ethereal being standing before you, trembling at your touch. “They’re beautiful, Ji'."

“You–” Sanji blushes, petrified in your hands, at the mercy of your touch as you just look at his eyes, cupping his face with one hand. Your gaze does not waver from his, and he has to resist every urge in his heart to not whine when your thumb runs over one of his cheekbones, so delicately, so lovingly. What you need is time, right now. You're just beginning your journey of healing from the terrors that had befallen you, and Sanji hurts from how he feels like he’s taking advantage of your kindness. Of you.

Oh, but how he aches to be held like this, especially by you. Surrendered at the altar of your love, completely devoted to you as his beautiful deity, worshiping your skin full of constellations and galaxies. To be able to shelter you, and to give you all of his best, to see you continue to heal. To see you in pleasure beneath or above him, he does not care, as long as it’s you, the woman he has fallen so, so deeply in love with after just three months of knowing of your existence.

As long as you’re happy, he will do whatever you ask of him. He would mutilate himself for you, to keep you safe. Your mind hums with devotion, as he shudders from your touch again, an audible whine leaving his mouth when your other hand loosely scratches at his scalp, having become clay in your hands. Do you even know the power you hold over him?

Delicately, you nudge him towards the door, but he stands stubbornly, his mouth dry. Fear tremors in his stomach, and you can smell it rolling off of him in waves. Sanji's mind runs at a mile a minute, as you attempt to care for him. Who would want him? You? Even if you were, somehow, attracted to a pathetic, useless prince who had gotten booted down to a waiter before he became the cook for your crew, you would lose interest in him. And why would you, of all people, stoop to his level, to set yourself equal to him, when you so clearly deserve someone greater?

It’s at that point that he gently pushes down your hand, still blushing and feeling lightheaded by your affection. “Thank you.”

And you hold his cheeks stubbornly, gently head-butting his forehead with a low purr. “You’re my family now. You’re in my pod, so whatever your family did, doesn’t matter anymore,” He feels his resolve crumble, as you gently pull him to the couch, letting him rest his head on your chest. The smell of Sanji’s distress finally fades as he falls asleep in your arms, replaced by the thick scent of peace and happiness as you drift off, one of your hands lying on the back of his head.

#black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x you #one piece insert #one piece x reader #one piece x you

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mandos-mind-trick · 1 year

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Here's To The Future - Part 5: Battle Scars

Summary: The war’s over. That should be cause for celebration, except the wrong side won. Things begin to change quickly, and it doesn’t take long for Midnight to realize something’s not right among the clone army. She should be glad the war is over, but the threat of her losing her boys is all too real. She did swear she would do everything she could to keep them from being separated when the war ended.

She’s not going to give up on that promise. Even if it kills her.

Pairing: The Bad Batch x reader (no clonecest)

Warnings: NSFW, smut, fingering, violence, emotions, inhibitor chips

A/N: Yes, I skipped ahead a bit, but I'd rather focus on the big plot points instead of dragging you through stuff you already know.

We're getting to the big climax now. This one's not too bad, but the next couple are going to be pretty heavy, so please prepare yourselves.

Also I am incapable of not being cheesy when writing Tech scenes.

< Previous | Next > | SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“That was fast.” Tech says as he looks up from where he’s fiddling with the ship.

Midnight shrugs. “We didn’t need much this time. I got us some food, though.”

“How was it?” Hunter asks, greeting them.

“It was amazing!” Omega says excitedly. “There was a market going on and we got some fresh food and Midnight scared a guy that was following us.”

Hunter looks up at Midnight startled by Omega’s words. “You were followed?” The others look up, their attention drawn by his worried tone.

Midnight rolls her eyes. “Just a creep looking to shoot his shot. Don’t worry. I handled it.”

“A man followed you?” Hunter asks, pressing her for more details.

Midnight sighs. “I’m a beautiful woman, Hunter. Creepy men follow me all the time. It’s happened all my life.” She puts a hand on his chest. “Don’t worry. I set him straight.”

Hunter’s jaw clenches, his hands balling into fists at his side. “I don’t like it.”

“Well, I don’t either but unfortunately, it’s normal for me.” She stands on her toes, getting close to his face. “Don’t get jealous.” She whispers, lips brushing his for a second before she moves away. “Come eat before it gets cold.”

Midnight and Omega’s outings have become normal as they frequent Ord Mantell more and more often. They have a good thing going with Cid, getting sent on missions and getting paid in return if they were successful.

Nearly twenty missions now over the last few weeks. She knows the guys are feeling good being busy again. Being busy has kept her distracted too. Hard to be upset when you’re racing around the galaxy with a child.

Midnight sits next to Echo, grabbing herself a serving. She smiles as she looks around at her boys. Hunter glances down at Omega where she’s sitting next to him every so often as she eats and talks happily with Wrecker. Tech eats with one hand, holding his datapad in the other. Echo also glances up at Omega every so often, all of them eating and enjoying this time together.

Midnight especially enjoys it, picturing all of them sitting around a dining table in their home, sharing in home cooked meals. She can’t hide the painful ache in her chest, though, at the missing space where Crosshair should be.

***

“How much did you spend?” Hunter corners her in her room after they’ve finished eating.

“None.” She says, putting her things away. “I used my money.”

“I told you not to do that.” He says, stepping closer to her.

“It’s my money, Hunter. It’s not doing us any good just sitting here.” She turns to face him. “Why won’t you let me help?”

“I want you to save it.”

“You’ve told me that before.” She says, putting a hand on his arm. “I have more than enough to keep us comfortable for a while. Let me help.”

“No.” He puts his foot down. “I want you to save it in case you have to run.”

Midnight blinks at him in surprise. She hasn’t heard this before. “What?”

“I want you to save your money in case something happens and you and Omega have to leave.”

“Hunter,” Midnight shakes her head. “I’m not going to-”

He holds up a hand, cutting her off. “We’ve already discussed it. It’s our newest plan. If something happens, we give you and Omega the best chance of getting to safety.”

“Hunter, I don't want to...I can’t-”

“It’s not a suggestion.” He says, looking at her with a hard gaze. “You have the best chance of giving her a good life.”

“I don’t know how to be a parent, Hunter! You think just because I had a mom I know how to be one? My mom wasn’t there. She didn’t parent me. I know just as much about taking care of a kid as you do.”

Hunter puts a hand on her shoulder. “You’re her best option. We’re all prepared to do it, if it comes to it. That’s always been part of our plans.”

Tears blur Midnight’s vision. She hates the idea of just one of them sacrificing themselves, but the thought of all of them...she hates it.

Hunter cups her face gently, wiping one of the tears that slides down her cheeks. “We’ll try not to need it, but we always have to be prepared for the possibility.”

***

Midnight sits on her bed, patting a damp cloth against the wound on her arm. It was hardly more than a graze from a blaster bolt, but it still hurts. They’re all a bit battered. The latest mission had been a hard one, and also a failure. Well, not totally a failure. It had been a failure for the right reasons, but she knows Cid won’t see it that way.

They weren’t getting paid for this one.

It’s not that big of a deal for her, but she knows Hunter won’t be happy.

The door to her room opens, Tech stepping inside. He doesn’t bother looking up from his datapad, moving to her side. He grabs her arm, holding the datapad up to her wound.

“I hardly think it’s that serious, Tech.” She rolls her eyes, attempting to pull her arm away.

“It needs to be cleaned.” He says simply, reaching into his belt for some bacta spray.

She rises from the bed, coming to stand right in front of him. She stares up at him intensely, eyes wide. “Okay, genius.” She says. “Then spray me.”

Tech visibly swallows, his eyes intense as he takes her arm, spraying the bacta on her wound.

“You sure you don’t want to check for other injuries?” She asks, taking a step back.

“I do not think you have any more injuries.” He says, his voice wavering a bit as he goes back to his datapad.

Midnight rolls her eyes, grabbing his datapad, setting it on the bed behind her. Tech opens his mouth to complain, but he falls silent as she tugs her shirt over her head. She smirks at him, making a show of unbuttoning her pants, turning her back to him as she shimmies her pants down her legs.

“You sure?” She asks, turning to look at him over her shoulder. “You don’t wanna be thorough? Maybe do a double check?”

His bare hands meet her shoulders, calloused hands sliding along her skin. “Perhaps a thorough examination is necessary.” His fingers trail over her skin, raising goosebumps as they go.

He presses close against her back as his fingers skirt around to her stomach, the plastoid on his chest cool against her skin. His hand slips into her underwear, fingers trailing through her already slick folds.

“You’ve been waiting for this.” He says, pressing his lips against her shoulder.

“Honestly, I would have taken any of you.” She gasps, her hips pressing against his hand. “I’ve been horny for a week now.”

Tech hums. “That must be why your aim was off.”

Midnight elbows him in the stomach. “Don’t be a dick...” She trails off as a finger slips inside her. She moans quietly, her hips rocking against Tech’s hand.

“We don’t have a lot of time.” He murmurs against her neck, sucking a bruise onto her skin.

“Make me cum and I’ll suck you off like that time after Trevath.” She says.

He pauses for a moment, before adding a second finger inside her. “Deal.”

His free arm wraps around her waist holding her up as he thrusts his fingers in and out of her. It’s obscene sounding from how wet she is, his mouth slotting against hers to try and quiet her moans.

The tension had been building recently, as their now busy schedule, and a child aboard, makes it hard for them to find downtime. It’s a bit like when they were at war, either too busy or too exhausted to do much of anything.

What she wouldn’t give to be living in a big house with lots of space and nothing to do.

She cums quickly, soaking Tech’s fingers. He pulls them from her, shoving them into her mouth to keep her quiet. She licks his fingers clean, swirling her tongue around them. He’s already hard, his codpiece pressing rather uncomfortably against her ass.

She turns, dropping to her knees in front of him. His codpiece comes off easily, dropping to the floor with a quiet thud. She palms the bulge in his blacks, looking up at him through her lashes. He gulps as he stares down at her, bracing one hand against the wall.

She smirks, slowly undoing his blacks. He’s going to be the one needing to be silenced after she’s done with him.

***

“That is one strange looking lizard.” Cid says, peeking in the cage where Ruby is being held.

They had just arrived back on Ord Mantell after hunting down some rare lizard a contact of Cid’s wanted. It had been quite the event to get it, the Rhokai that had taken it rather unwilling to let it go so easily.

“What’s your client want it for?” Echo asks.

“Maybe it’s a pet. Maybe he wants to turn it into a stew. Don’t know, don’t care.” Cid says.

“As long as you get paid.” Hunter says.

“Now you’re catching on.” Cid says. “And guess what? That means you get paid too. Bring the lizard in the back.”

Echo grabs the cage, making his way towards Cid’s office. Tech follows, Wrecker hanging back.

“Hunter?” Omega asks.

“What are you two up to?” Hunter asks, turning to them.

“The mission’s over. Can we go?” Wrecker asks.

“Again?” Hunter asks exasperatedly.

“It’s a tradition.” Wrecker explains. “It makes the kid happy.” He whispers, as if she’s not standing right in front of him.

“Uh-huh. The kid.” Hunter says knowingly, but he sighs. “Don’t take long.”

Wrecker cheers, Omega grabbing Midnight’s wrist. “Come with us!”

Midnight lets herself be pulled from Cid’s bar, Hunter glancing back and she offers him a shrug before she disappears out the door.

Wrecker takes her free hand, the three of them walking together. Just like a little family, making their way towards the marketplace. They lead her to a stand, Wrecker ordering three boxes of Mantell Mix.

The lady at the stand holds her hand out expectantly, Midnight glancing at Wrecker before pulling out her credit bag. “How much?” She asks.

“21 credits.” The woman says.

Midnight sucks in a breath, but hands over the payment. That was a lot for the Mantell Mix. Where had Wrecker been getting the credits to pay for it? Hunter certainly doesn’t know. He would have put an end to this quite a few jobs ago.

“Wrecker.” She asks as they make their way back towards Cid’s. “How have you been paying for this?”

“Oh, we’ve been putting it on Cid’s tab.” He says.

Midnight nearly chokes on her Mantell Mix. So that must have been why their cuts were getting smaller and smaller. No doubt Cid was also finding other things to charge them for wherever she could.

“Well look who it is!” Wrecker says as they make their way down to the entrance. Midnight follows Omega in, finding Wrecker squeezing the life out of a poor reg. “Come here, Rex.”

“Yeah. Good to see you too, Wrecker.” He says.

“I thought you didn’t like the regs.” Omega says.

“This one we like.” Wrecker says, spinning Rex around before setting him on his feet.

“Omega, this is Rex.” Hunter introduces her.

Rex drops down onto a knee, looking Omega over. “I’ve met many clones in my time, but never one like you.”

Omega takes a couple steps closer, studying Rex’s face. “You’re a generation one.” She says.

“Now how’d you know that?” Rex asks.

“From the lines on your face.” She answers simply.

Midnight holds in a laugh, glad that Rex lets out a chuckle. “Yeah, I guess I’ve been around.” He says.

“You got that right.” Wrecker says.

Rex pushes himself to stand, looking at Midnight. “You must be Midnight.”

Midnight stares at him in surprise. “Yes,” She says slowly. “I am.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Rex says. “You’re rather famous.”

“I’m beginning to figure that out.” She says.

“A nat-born surviving with a specialized clone squad. That takes a lot of skill.”

“I’d call it more dumb luck than anything.” Midnight shrugs.

“Yeah, you should’ve seen her when she first started.” Wrecker jokes, but he’s cut off by a groan, his hand lifting to his head. “Tech, I need one of those med patches.”

Rex turns around, staring at Wrecker tensely. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just a headache.” Wrecker says.

“Which are becoming more frequent.” Echo says.

“Is that so?” Rex asks slowly.

“If you’re concerned about the so-called inhibitor chips, don’t be.” Tech says. “Our deviant nature appears to have impeded their functionality. Except in Crosshair.”

“You’re telling me you haven’t removed your chips?” Rex asks.

“No, not yet.” Tech says.

Rex takes a defensive stance in front of Omega and Midnight, his hand moving towards his blaster. Hunter stands, all of them also taking defensive stances.

“Those chips make you a threat to everyone around you. Even her.” Rex nods back at Omega. “You’re all ticking time bombs.”

“Take it easy, Captain.” Hunter says, moving closer as he tries to placate Rex.

“What’s in your head is more dangerous than you can imagine. I’ve seen what happens when the chip activates, and I don’t want to bury any more of our brothers.”

Hunter deflates a bit at that, Echo and Tech sharing a look. Midnight’s stomach starts to churn a bit. She can’t stand something similar to what happened with Crosshair happening to any of them. The thought of losing another one of them makes her sick. Not to mention the danger it would present. Any of them would be deadly without their enhancements. Wrecker especially would be the most dangerous. The kind of damage he could do with no control over his strength.

“Trust me. It is not something you can control.” Rex says. “I couldn’t. It’s a risk you do not want to take.”

Hunter glances past Rex at Midnight and Omega. “How do you suggest we get them out?”

Rex relaxes a bit, moving his hand from his blaster. “Good question. I’ll be in touch.”

***

Midnight sits across from Tech as he works on his device. Omega stands next to him, happily handing him tools as he needs them. Wrecker sits next to them, tapping his foot restlessly. They’d gotten a message from Rex a day ago to head to Bracca, and that he’d meet them there.

“I don’t like this plan.” Wrecker groans.

“We agreed to meet Rex on Bracca.” Hunter says, walking up to them. “That’s what we’re doing.”

“He wants to cut open my head.” Wrecker complains.

“All of our heads, actually.” Tech says.

“Not mine. I don’t have an inhibitor chip.” Omega says proudly.

“Why not? Now, that’s not fair.” Wrecker complains.

“How’s the chip scanner coming?” Hunter asks Tech.

“Since Rex’s chip was removed, I am able to establish a baseline by comparing his brain scans to ours, allowing for the detection of any cellular anomaly.” Tech answers.

“He means it’s almost finished.” Omega translates.

“Do we really have to do this?” Wrecker asks.

“If Rex is sure, we should trust him.” Hunter says.

“Don’t worry big guy.” Midnight stands, putting a hand on Wrecker’s arm. “You’ll be fine. You probably won’t feel a thing.”

Wrecker pouts. “But I don’t want surgery.”

“I’ll be right there with you to kiss it better once Rex is done.” She leans against his arm.

He stares down at her before breaking out in a grin. Midnight stands on her toes, tugging him down slightly to kiss his cheek. She’ll feel a lot better once the chips are out. She can’t stand the risk of losing another one of them.

***

The ship enters Bracca’s atmosphere, revealing a landscape of decaying ships as far as the eye can see.

“What is this place?” Omega asks, looking out the viewports as they come in to land.

“A starship graveyard.” Hunter answers.

“I’m picking up Rex’s beacon.” Echo says, flying them down to a landing place inside a ship.

Rex’s ship is there, waiting for them as they leave the ship.

“Right on time.” Rex says, greeting them once they’re off the ship.

“How’s a junk planet gonna help us?” Wrecker asks.

Rex puts on his helmet. “Follow me.”

The others put their helmets on as they make their way out of the decaying ship.

“Bracca may not be much to look at, but it has exactly what we need.” Rex says, pausing and looking at a venator ship sticking up out of the rubble. “I had my inhibitor chip taken out on a Jedi cruiser just like that. That’s where we’re heading.”

“Then why did we land all the way over here?” Wrecker complains.

“Everyone down.” Echo says, all of them ducking as a ship flies slowly past in the distance.

“That’s why.” Rex says.

“It’s the Scrapper Guild.” Tech says.

“They control this entire planet.” Rex says. “We need to keep out of sight from their patrols. Let’s move.”

They make their way to the cruiser, staying low and moving quickly through the debris. Midnight tries to ignore the occasional loud creaking and shifting of rusted metal above them. If any piece fell, it would squish them before they could run far enough to get out of the way.

They reach a tall ledge right on the edge of the cruiser, the others lifting themselves up easily. Tech puts his hands on her waist, boosting her up so she can get over the edge. She turns, helping him up. His touch lingers for just a moment. All of them have been on edge since the reality of their situation had been brought to light.

“It’s much bigger up close.” Omega says, staring at the ship in awe.

“This is an original Venator-class ship from the first batch off the line.” Rex explains to Omega.

“First off the line, huh? Just like you, Rex.” Wrecker laughs.

They make their way inside, walking down a decaying hallway. Rex takes the lead, lighting the way with a torch. Echo follows right behind him. She knows he’s relieved finding out Rex is actually still alive, and being around him again. She’d heard the most about Rex when Echo talked about his past.

“The last time I was aboard one of these it didn’t end so well.” Rex says.

“If the inhibitor chip isn’t something you can control, how’d you get yours out?” Echo asks.

“I had help.” Rex says, pausing just before falling into a hole in the floor. “The medical bay is at the other end.” Rex says, pointing his torch in that direction. “Wrecker, grab that cable.” He directs the giant clone, shining his light on the cable.

“This? W-Why? W-W-What are you gonna do with it?” He asks nervously.

They string it across the gap, all of them crawling their way down it. Midnight waits until second to last, trying to comfort the panicking Wrecker. She crawls her way down when it’s her turn, Rex helping her down once she’s reached a safe place.

“You’re up Wrecker.” Hunter calls up to the giant clone.

“Uh, yeah, my head doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m fine. You guys go without me.” He says.

“You can do it!” Omega calls out. “Just keep your eyes on the cable.”

Wrecker slowly moves to the edge, grabbing onto the cable. It bends quite a bit under his weight, Wrecker nearly falling from it.

“That was close.” He laughs, getting himself righted seconds before the cable gives out and Wrecker falls.

He nearly hits the water below, but the cable wraps around his ankle, holding him just above it.

“Are you all right?” Rex calls down to him.

“No! Smells awful down here!” He yells, trying to reach the cable.

Something large begins to move under the water, getting close to Wrecker.

“What’s that?” Omega asks.

“Wrecker, start climbing!” Hunter commands.

“Why?” Wrecker asks.

“Hurry!” Omega yells.

A tentacle shoots out of the water, wrapping around Wrecker and pulling him under. They all grab the cable, trying to pull against the creature. They’re almost successful, but the creature grabs onto Wrecker with more tentacles, pulling him under.

It’s still and quiet for far too long, Midnight watching the water nervously. They’re so close. They can’t possibly lose someone else like this.

Wrecker breaks the surface, trying to climb up the cable. The creature hangs on desperately, Echo shooting at it as its mouth breaks the water.

It does let go after a couple shots, all of them straining to help Wrecker back up onto the platform.

“What was that?” Wrecker coughs as he kneels on the platform.

“Makes you miss battling clankers, doesn’t it?” Rex asks.

Wrecker groans in agreement, taking a moment to collect himself.

They make their way through the rest of the ship with little incident. This part is more intact than the rest, thankfully. It doesn't take them long to locate the med bay, door after door plastered with the medic’s symbol. Rex kneels down at a partially opened door, looking inside. He and Tech lift the door, revealing a surgical pod.

“This will do nicely.” Rex says.

“I would no longer call this medical bay a sterile environment.” Tech says, looking around.

“Do you prefer to use the facility on Kamino?” Rex asks him.

“This will do nicely.” Tech backtracks quickly.

“I’ll calibrate the surgical pod.” Echo says inserting his scomp into the control panel. The lights begin to turn on, the pod humming to life.

“Time to get scanned, Wrecker.” Tech says as Wrecker sits on the bed of the surgical pod.

“Let’s get this over with.” Wrecker says, clutching his head.

Hunter takes his gear, setting it to the side as Tech works on setting up his device. Omega approaches Hunter nervously, looking worried.

“Hunter, just because the surgery worked on Rex, doesn’t mean it’s safe.” She says. “This is dangerous.”

“It’s more dangerous to leave their inhibitor chips in.” Rex says.

“We have to do this.” Hunter says. “It’s worth the risk.”

“And what if something goes wrong? I’ll be left here with no one.”

Hunter’s face softens a bit, finally understanding where her objection is coming from. He puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. “We’re not going anywhere, Omega.” He says. “You’re stuck with us for the long run. Besides, Midnight isn’t going anywhere.”

“Yeah, what am I? Chopped liver?” She kneels down next to Omega, putting her hands on her shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere either. I’ll always be with you. No matter what.” She takes the younger girl’s hand, linking their pinkies together. “Pinky promise.”

“What does that mean?” Omega asks curiously.

“It’s a pinky promise.” Midnight says. “It means the promise can’t be broken.”

Omega smiles softly at her before she throws her arms around Midnight. Midnight hugs her back, squeezing her gently.

“I think I found something.” Tech says, looking at his datapad. “Ninety degrees from his right orbital floor, below the parietal and temporal intersection.”

“Get that away from me!” Wrecker grunts out, taking the device off his head, shoving it against Tech’s chest.

“Something’s not right.” Omega says, looking at him.

“We need to speed this up.” Rex says.

The surgery pod whirrs as it comes to life, Echo working faster to get it turned on.

“You boys got lucky.” Rex says. “Very few clones were immune to the effects of Order 66. It’s rare.”

“When the regs attacked the Jedi on Kaller, we didn’t understand why.” Hunter says. “We couldn’t save the general, but at least we helped the Padawan escape.” They move away from Wrecker, Omega following.

Tech grabs the sedative. “Relax. This won’t hurt a bit.”

He goes to inject Wrecker, but Wrecker grabs his wrist, stopping him. He reaches up with his other hand, grabbing Tech around the throat.

“You’re in direct violation of Order 66.” Wrecker says, standing and lifting Tech off the ground.

Midnight’s blood runs cold as she stares at them in shock. The chip must have activated. This is not good.

Wrecker throws Tech against the wall, knocking him unconscious. He bends down, grabbing his helmet and blaster.

“Wrecker?” Omega asks, trying to get through to the giant clone.

Rex draws his blaster, pointing it at Wrecker. Wrecker knocks the blaster from Rex’s hand easily, Hunter grabbing Omega as they duck for cover. Wrecker fires at them, Echo blocking with a piece of scrap metal before ducking for cover.

“He’ll destroy the equipment if we don’t get him out of here.” Echo says.

“You’re all traitors!” Wrecker says, firing at them.

“We’ll draw him out.” Hunter says. “Midnight, Omega, stay with Tech.”

He throws a canister at Wrecker, the room filling with smoke. Midnight and Omega stay hidden, the plan working as Wrecker follows the other three from the room. Midnight crawls over to Tech, pulling the debris off him before rolling him onto his back. She shakes his shoulder gently, trying to rouse him.

“Come on, Tech.” She says quietly, patting his cheek. “Wake up. We need some backup.”

Tech groans quietly, shifting just a little. Midnight glances behind her, noticing Omega is missing. She curses, getting to her feet. She draws her blaster, peeking her head out the door. She can see Hunter’s body at the opposite end of the hall, limp on the ground. She wants to check on him, but she knows Omega is somewhere, likely with Wrecker close behind.

She hears a clang from the opposite end of the hallway and heads in that direction. She sticks her head around the corner, the door to another med bay room open. She approaches slowly, blaster drawn. She likes to think Wrecker wouldn’t hurt her, but she can’t be sure. She may not be a clone, but she had deserted too. She’s still a traitor, just like them in the Empire’s eyes.

Wrecker’s back is to her as she glances in the open door. She lifts her own blaster, pointing it right at his back. Her hands shake, but she knows she has no other choice. She fires, Wrecker’s body going stiff before it falls.

Rex stumbles up next to her, holding the side of his head. “You alright?” He asks.

She gives him a once over. “I should be asking you that.”

Omega slams into her, wrapping her arms around Midnight. Midnight runs a hand over her head, looking down at her.

“You alright?” She asks. Omega nods, holding Midnight tighter.

They manage to get Wrecker’s limp body into the surgical pod, Tech a bit dazed but up and moving by the time they drag his body in. Everyone is a bit battered, but still alive as Tech begins the process of removing Wrecker’s chip.

“Is it supposed to take this long?” Echo asks as they wait for the surgery to be over. It seemed like it should be simple, but then again, removing something from someone’s brain was probably complicated even for a highly specialized machine.

“I’m not sure. I’ve never been on this end of it.” Rex says.

Midnight watches over Tech’s shoulder, quietly memorizing every button he pushes, everything that flashes across the screen.

“The procedure’s complete.” Tech says after a while, ejecting the bed from the machine.

Omega puts her hands on Wrecker’s chest, shaking him gently. “Wrecker.” He doesn’t move. “Wrecker! He should be awake by now.”

Tech presses a button on the console. “He is alive, but his vitals have not stabilized. We won’t know more until he regains consciousness.”

“This could be a while.” Rex says as he and Hunter step away. “Why don’t you take Omega topside and get some air?”

“No.” Omega says definitely. “I’m staying until he wakes up.” She pulls a chair closer, plopping down next to Wrecker’s side.

Midnight straightens up, turning to face the two clones. “I’ll go then. I could use some air.”

“Be careful.” Hunter says. “Stay hidden and try not to draw any attention.”

“Keep a close eye on my surroundings and trust no one but my squad, right?” Midnight jokes.

A small smile tugs at Hunter’s mouth. “Be careful. We’ll comm you when he wakes.”

Midnight nods her thanks, heading out of the room. She wanders the ship a bit before finding the bridge. She can imagine it full of people navigating and commanding during a battle. She’d only been on a cruiser once during the war, and she’d been unconscious the whole time.

She seats herself on an abandoned crate, staring out the viewports at the sky. It’s beginning to turn yellow as the sun gets lower and lower. They’ll be here all night at this rate.

****

Midnight doesn’t turn as footsteps approach her. She’s been up here for a while, the sky beginning to go orange. She’s trying hard not to think too much, waiting patiently for word about Wrecker.

A body lowers itself next to her on the crate, her gaze still out the window.

“He talked about you a lot, you know.” Rex says, breaking the silence. “Cody was very proud of you. Whatever you did to help him, it must have really been something.”

Midnight shrugs. “I think it was more the fact that I did help him.” She tugs at the fraying end of her sleeve that’s untucked from her glove. “Have you...heard anything?”

“Only that his squad shot down General Kenobi on Utapau. He succumbed to the chip, just like the others.”

Midnight lets out a long breath, looking out at the sea of decaying ships. “I guess that was to be expected.”

It’s quiet between them for a few moments.

“How long have you been...” Rex trails off, leaving the rest of the question unasked.

“Is it...that obvious?” Midnight stutters.

Rex smirks. “I know those bruises on your neck aren’t from any fight.”

Midnight flushes, pulling the neck of her blacks up slightly higher. “Three months after I joined the squad.”

Rex gives her a soft smile. “I’m happy for you. I’m happy for them.”

“Thank you,” Midnight says, looking at him. “For finding us, for doing this. Losing Crosshair was...” She shakes her head. “If I lost any more of them, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“I know you must have really loved him, if you put up with Crosshair for that long.” Rex smirks, but it quickly falls. “Sometimes we have to accept we can’t change things, no matter how badly it hurts.”

Midnight stares down at her hands. Could he tell just by looking at her that she was already considering it?

Her comm beeps before she can think up an answer, or attempt to play it off.

“He’s awake.” Tech’s simple statement does have relief flooding through her.

Maybe there is a chance after all.

Taglist:

@amyroswell, @dangraccoon, @hunnythebee, @lokigirlszendaya, @kriffingmeshla, @storm-breaker7, @burningfieldof-clover, @6oceansofmoons

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #poly bad batch #tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb echo x reader

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spade-riddles · 1 year

Text

Submission:

🎃 is retelling the story of the failed coming out, the masters heist, the Kaylor break of 2019, the formulation of the new longer more gradual coming out plan, the folk/more era of exile, the Kaylor reunion, and presumably… what’s next.

Oh, and Toe dipping out before planned.

The HEEL of the 1st message is Taylor BEING the heel, another word for antihero. She is flying toward coming out with Me!, YNTCD, etc. But she as she speeds toward actually doing it, she becomes afraid of what life will look like on the other side. So she tries to walk it back, only to look like she’s queerbaiting.

The glass castle was in the Me! Video. The bicycles were also in that video. She changed her mind on coming out, got spooked, hesitated.

The museum heist is the masters heist. The mirror in the glass: he’s got my past frozen behind glass, but I’ve got me. Sounds like someone threatening to out her, perhaps around the same time/in connection to the masters heist. Maybe the someone she recognizes is Scooter or Scott B?

The kitchen is the war room; the new, longer coming out plan with Tree + co. Sounds like Toe dipped out earlier than intended and took some evidence with him. Or maybe someone else close to her betrayed her. The dandelion metaphor is about “private moments too close to the fence,” so it makes me feel the betrayal was someone in her circle. Since nothing penetrates her fence.

The yard message is about being too sloppy within her circle and private life. Someone got evidence that could hurt her/Karlie.

The jumping into the water feels like it’s from summer 2019, Taylor giving Karlie up to protect her (“the rubies that I gave up” — in the Bible, rubies symbolize a Good Wife)

This harkens back to spade’s message “without hesitation she bent down to pick up the pieces and cut herself…” I feel like we originally assumed Karlie was the one who cut herself so Taylor could be whole but what if it was the other way around??

Maybe Taylor gave Karlie up, agreed to an NYC exile, to protect her??

The being swept out to sea is the period where Taylor is shipwrecked.

And the woods is when she finds the cabin in the woods, sends the signal to Karlie and they reunite in secret a la Willow. This is the folklore/evermore era. This story is all laid out in Evermore.

It also sounds like Karlie didn’t want Taylor to go; she would rather have hurt her image than lose her. So Taylor giving her up was sort of a romantic, heroic gesture… which really is what Lover felt like. Like letting someone go that you don’t want to. But having to bite your tongue and publicly be the antihero.

ALSO, a story in 11 parts then leaves 1: midnights.

It’s 11pm on the clock.

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deputyash · 11 months

Text

WIP Day

Tagged by @adelaidedrubman Thank you! (Also probably some other people from long ago too but I can't remember, sorry X3)

Tagging: @harmonyowl @derelictheretic @teamhawkeye @strafethesesinners @purplehairsecretlair @peachyaliien @ri-a-rose @redreart @statichvm @shellibisshe @glowwormsmith @fuckin-nancy @isobel-thorm @blissfulalchemist @direwombat @v0idbuggy @wrathfulrook @mel-eficent @cassietrn @beemot @englass @laindtt @shallow-gravy @the-delicate-disaster @katamari-possum

A/N: Have two WIPs cause I had a mini drabble that I had fun with, but also a piece of a longer work I've had for like weeks now lol. Also heads up for wound-tending and stitches for the second WIP.

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

WIP 1:

Despite never seeing them himself, Astarion never cared for his eyes. The thought of them only ever brought back wretched memories of the beginning of his torment, his turning.

This slowly began to change the more time he spent with Izel, gazing into her eyes. They were an enchanting shade of garnet. One moment they would catch the light and sparkle so sweetly and the next they were a deep chasm he could get endlessly lost in. If red eyes could be as beautiful as hers, then perhaps his own could be too.

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

WIP 2:

She looks over the wound again and repeats the process until she’s satisfied with the cleanliness of it. She sets the cloth aside before grabbing and opening the metal tin. Inside are several needles and various spools of thread.

Izel grabs one of each and sets aside the rest as she begins prepping the needle. She strings a considerable amount of thread through the needle before bringing her left arm to rest on her lap. She leans forward as she brings the needle to the wound.

Her fingers tremble slightly as she moves to bring the needle point to her skin. She pauses and tries to shake off the tremors but the combination of the chilly air, the mild pain thrumming through her, and her general fatigue, makes it a fruitless task.

With a soft hiss she pushes the needle into her skin. She angles it back up and brings it out on the other side of the wound, making her first stitch. She repeats the motion again, flinching when she hits a particularly tender spot. She glances up at the lake. The orange rays of sunlight were beginning to dip down below the shimmering surface of the water.

She was losing daylight fast. She needed to speed this along or she’d be here all night.

She repeats the motions again and again until she reaches a rhythm—a shaky one—but one nonetheless. Izel nearly reaches the end of the wound when a voice cuts through the silence, shocking her from her concentration.

In a split second, Izel is on her feet and spinning around to face her intruder, teeth bared in defense, uncaring that the needle and thread were still attached to her arm.

A pitched laugh is the only thing that she’s met with. “It’ll take a little more than a sewing needle to kill me, don’t you think, darling?”

Izel lets out an indignant huff but lets the tension fall from her shoulders. “What are you doing here, Astarion?”

He flashes her a smile. “I could ask you the same thing, dear. I saw you sneaking off earlier.” He makes a scurrying motion with his hands before continuing, “Not exactly subtly either, might I add.”

“Who said I was trying to be subtle? Perhaps I just wanted some peace and quiet.” She lets out a curt hum before continuing, “Now I’d really like to finish what I was doing. I’d rather not spend all night out here with a needle hanging from my arm.”

Astarion simply crosses his arms and looks at her, gazing at her from head to toe. Izel hardens her stare and turns her body away from him, but doing so causes her to mistakenly tug at the thread still connected to her arm. She flinches and lets out a soft hiss as she looks down at the stitches, which in turn reveals them to Astarion.

“That is some of the worst needlework I’ve seen in my life.”

Izel cocks her head to the side and shoots a glare in his direction. “They don’t need to be pretty. They just need to work.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, “And leave plenty of scars in the process.”

He saunters over and stops beside the makeshift table. He reaches down and picks up the tin full of sewing supplies. He plucks out a new needle and spool of thread. He brings the needle up to his crimson eyes.

“I’m quite the embroiderer you know.” He briefly waves down at his clothing. “Did everything you see here.”

Izel watches as he easily threads the needle before setting it aside and picking up a small pair of sewing scissors. He holds his hand out before waving it impatiently.

“Arm, darling. I don’t have all day.”

“Why are you helping me?” She asks, still leaning away from him.

“We’re a team, aren’t we? And while I am no Shadowheart, I can at least offer…what few skills I do have…” He clears his throat, “So, are you going to give me that precious arm of yours or are you indeed going to let that needle dangle there all night?”

Izel eyes him with a mix of wariness and curiosity. She could sense something beneath his words but she doesn’t push him for an explanation. Who was she to push for answers? She certainly wouldn’t appreciate it if their roles were reversed. In fact she'd loathe it. Almost as much as she loathes the idea of trusting a near stranger with a needle near her flesh, especially one who had pulled a dagger on her when they met.

She lets out a sigh and looks down at her arm. The stitches were sloppy and they were already coming loose in some areas and too tight in others from her abrupt stop. She grits her teeth before relenting. She turns towards him and lets her arm rest in his outreached hand.

“There. That wasn’t so hard now was it?”

Astarion brings the scissors to the stitches and begins cutting them all off. He carefully pulls out the remaining bits and tosses them off into the grass before reaching for the carafe of water. He pours water over the wound. Izel bites down on her teeth as the stinging resurfaces but otherwise stays firmly planted in place. She refuses to look weak in front of him.

He wipes away the water with a clean cloth before bringing the new needle to the top of the wound. Izel looks away from the operating area and instead looks up at Astarion’s face. His eyes were keenly honed into his work, his brows pinched together and his mouth pursed into a set look of concentration. Perhaps he isn’t lying. Maybe he really does know his way around a needle and thread.

Her eyes then glance down at his clothing. She hadn’t really noticed the needlework on it before. All along the garment is brilliant gold embroidery, making distinct shapes and patterns all over the neckline and shoulders. She didn’t know much about the ins and outs of embroidery, but from what she could see, his work was delicate, skillful, beautiful.

#I added an extra paragraph to the second WIP last minute so hopefully it isn't too jarring lol #deputyash's writing #my writing #deputyash's ocs #my ocs #izel #izel x astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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sweetracha · 1 year

Note

Hi, I'd like to request a skz ot8 drabble to this song please. https://youtu.be/HKENAqs5Ang

If the link doesn't work, the song is called that part by Lauren Spencer it's only avail on YouTube ATM but it's a beautiful song. I'm sure you'll make a beautiful story out of it. I love your writing btw. ❤️❤️

You are so sweet!!! It made my whole day sweetie! The song made me think of when SKZ realized they wanted to marry you. Hope that is okay!

Bang Chan The two of you finally had a day off together and what better way to spend it than by cleaning? Both of you much rather have gone shopping or out to dinner but the apartment needed to be cleaned, especially after pizza night with the other boys. Chan was currently scrubbing away at the burnt-on grease that covered your stovetop, while you were organizing the cabinets. No matter how hard you tried the pantry always got mixed up. There was silence between you but there was no need for conversation. The home you two have created together was filled with comfort, understanding, and love. Tears were shed, laughter was shared, loving nights went into early mornings, and there was always love around. Christopher would have never believed that he would be where he was today. He spent so many long and lonely nights in the studio wishing he had someone to share them with. Then along came you. Out of nowhere it seemed, you appeared in his life and changed everything. Chan was brought out of his thoughts when he heard a little huff of frustration. Turning around he found you on your tippest toes trying to put away a bag of flour. He smiled to himself and watched as you were unaware he knew. However, once he saw your legs begin to climb the counter, he stepped in. Christopher walked up behind you and placed his arm on your shoulder to alert you of his presence. Then he lifted you as if you didn't weigh more than a feather. Once the bag was secured, he pulled you into his embrace. With feet still dangling above the floor you melted into him. He couldn't lose this feeling. He decided right then and there, he was going to marry you.

Lee Know Minho was running late again. He felt so bad having to push back the time every date night just because he needed to get one more step right, correct just one more part of the choreography, and learn just a bit more of the new song. You were always the first thing on his mind but he worries that you are starting to not believe him. Last weekend when he came home after practice he found you asleep on the couch, makeup still on your face. His heart shattered as he saw you hadn't even taken the time to remove your heels and dress. The next day was filled with you explaining that it was okay and you understood. But Minho wouldn’t take that as an excuse, he would make it up to you. After practice, he ran to the grocery store to pick up all the needed items for your favorite meal. Tonight he was going to treat you like the queen you were. Of course, the line at the store was a million miles long. Once he got through check out he saw the time…it was an hour past when he was meant to meet you. With a defeated heart he drove home to you. He unlocked the front door and stepped in ready to be met with your sad eyes. If this time they shined with the fire of rage he would understand. But instead of little sobs, he heard…music? With curiosity he followed the melody into the dining room where he found a fully set table with a hot meal plated…his favorite one. Then his eyes widened as he saw you, dancing happily in the refrigerator light. He slowly made his way to you, worried about ruining the mood. Minho never wanted to see that smile leave your face again. On the next turn, his eyes met yours and you froze. He prepared himself, he was ready for the consequences of his actions. Then he saw your outstretched hand. Your eyes sparkled as you looked up at him, a small giggle escaping your lips. His hand was placed hesitantly into yours. Minho was pulled in quickly and your arms wrapped around him. You began to sway. He got the hint, and Minho began dancing. He made note of the song that played, it was perfect for your first dance.

Changbin Moving was always a hassle. No one looked forward to packing, transporting, and unloading their old lives into a new house. On top of that, there is all the paperwork and payments needed. Then you begin to notice all the problems that the realtor conveniently forgot about during the tour. With a heavy and exhausted sign, you placed down another box. You stepped back to take a breather and that's when you saw him. Changbin carried in the bedframe as if it weighed nothing. A small bit of sweat that rolled down his brow however gave it away, he was just as tired as you were. While he had strength he did not have grace, bashing your bed frame into the wall about 3 times before he finally set it down. Changbin made a note to patch up the holes tomorrow. Stumbling out of the bedroom and into what was planned to be your living room he found you sitting on the floor. He chuckled and sat down with you. A chase kiss was left on your sweaty head. You leaned into his side and gently handed Binnie your water. After taking a sip he looked down at you, already fast asleep. He shuffled back against the wall carefully so as to not wake you and situated your head into his lap. Changbin pulled your ponytail out and began to brush your hair with his hands. His eyes slowly shut to join you in nap time. His dreams were filled with future memories in this new home. Play fights in the living room, late-night snacks in the kitchen, loving nights spent in the bedroom, sick days spent together on the bathroom floor, etc. He even began to imagine what the studio office would look like in a few years. The computer desk would become a crib while the couch is traded out for a rocking chair. In it was you with your newborn baby, he couldn't see their face but he knew they were beautiful. But how does a man achieve his dreams? He takes the leap of faith. Along with the mental note of patching the walls, he added the task of finding you the perfect ring.

Hyunjin Jinnie always loved to paint what he found beautiful. That is why flowers were his most common subject besides you of course. When you two found your forever home outside the city limits he couldn't wait to begin his garden. It was like bringing a painting to life. Quite literally as Hyunjin painted out the exact layout for each flower bed. He wanted it to be perfect but not only for him but for you. He wanted to give you a picture-perfect cottage life. He had dreams of summertime picnics out in the yard and slow dancing under the stars. Jin pictured you in a little yellow sundress with the golden sun making you glow. He tried to draw it so many times before but nothing came close to your true beauty. He shook his thoughts from his head of you in that little sundress and honestly was met with something better. You were sitting on your knees, carefully planting some tulip bulbs. You handled them so gently as if they were a million-dollar piece of art. Closing one eye you checked the angle of the plot. Once a perfect spot was chosen, you planted with confidence. He loved that you saw the art in life too. That you too were an artist even if you wouldn't admit it. Hyunjin had to chuckle a bit when you pushed your sunhat out of the way for the hundredth time, following with a huff. Slowly as to not alert you, he pulled out his phone a snapped a picture. Beauty captured in jeans and an old tee. Later he would paint that same image but this time he added one thing, a beautiful diamond ring.

Han (T.W. Anxiety and Panic Attacks) Life was over. It was all ending. How could you ever forgive him? Not after he did that. He wasn't responsible and you would see it. You would come home and yell at him. Then the door would slam and you'd be gone. Just like the sand of time running through his hands, you'd be gone. He would chase you down like he was chasing oxygen right now but it would be hopeless. You would be gone. Han came to terms with his life coming to an end on the cold bathroom floor. He didn't mean to ruin your favorite dress! Jisung just wanted to surprise you tonight. He planned everything down to the final details of your date, he wanted you to be proud of him. But when he saw a loose thread on the dress he picked out for you, he didn't think, he just pulled. Then in a matter of seconds, the expensive garment was no more than fabric pooled on the floor. Tears flooded his eyes as he heard the door shut and your voice calling out to him. Han braced for the final blow of death to hit him. He jumped when gentle warm hands touched his knees. He looked up and found your eyes full of worry. Han tried to look away but your hands stopped him. You wanted to make this hurt, he just knew it. No one could love a mess up like him. Then a soft kiss was placed on his trembling lips. Before he knew it he was cradled into you like a child seeking comfort. Soft coos and hushes left your lips as you held him and told him it would be okay. After some silence, Han broke and explained everything. He didn't expect to hear laughter. You were so caught off guard by what triggered this panic attack you couldn't help but giggle a bit at the silly boy. You explained the dress was not worth leaving him over. You could buy a new one, a cuter one! You would even let Jisung pick it out. Once his mind cleared from the fog of anxiety he began to imagine how white would look on you.

Felix The house always smelled like chocolate and sugar. With two bakers living together, how could it not? Felix and you loved to bake together, so much so that Fridays became honorary baking nights. Some weeks you would try something new and others you would stick to the classics. Tonight however was a mixture of both. The other boys were meant to come over later on for a movie night and you two knew brownies were a must! But the boys were so use to Felix’s brownies now and you really wanted to surprise them. However, when you both came up with different ideas it was so hard to choose. Felix wanted to go crazy and add fruit to the mix while you decided that ice cream brownies went with the vibe much better. As much as you two love each other, you also loved competition. So it was off! Felix and you baked your own brownies and the boys would judge them. The winner gets to pick Friday night bake for a month. The stakes were high but the love was higher. Felix couldn't help but put your ice cream back in the freezer after you accidentally left it out. While he was shifting his flour you quickly threw away all the rotten berries from his pile. Most people would sabotage their competition but not you two. No you two couldn't help but joke around and honestly make a mess. So you weren't fully surprised by the smell of burnt chocolate during your food fight. You both paused and you saw the look on Felix’s face. Your brownies were out of the oven a while ago which means they were his. You both rushed to the oven to pull them out quickly. So quickly in fact you forgot an oven mitt, you just wanted to save his dessert. You pulled back with a loud yelp and his brownies went crashing to the ground. Tears filled your eyes and Felix felt his heart shatter. He rushed you to the sink and began to aid your hand. He shushed all your apologies and dried your eyes of any tears. Once your hand was wrapped and he was sure you were okay, he began to clean. You tried to help him but Lix was adamant you were to look after your hand. After he finished scrubbing the last bit of baked-on brownies he went to find you. What he found instead was a plate filled with your brownies. On top of each was a scoop of ice cream and Felix’s fresh fruit. He smiled to himself at your kind gesture. Was it too cheesy to put a ring on a cupcake next Friday?

Seungmin Comebacks were always busy, especially now that SKZ had left JYP. Seungmin and the others were working overtime trying to fill in all the missing gaps now that they didn’t have staff. He hoped more freedom would mean more time with you. In reality, that's what you both wanted. Seungmin knew that but he also knew you'd never tell him. Minnie was well aware of the fact that you'd never let him put you over his career, but you also knew he'd leave everything if it meant losing you. Therefore you helped out where you could. Dinner was made for when he got home, bags were packed for press tours, and schedules were kept on your phone. He never asked you to do this, he wanted you to know that you didn't have to be his keeper but you wanted to. It was the little acts like this where you were able to show your love. This is how you would tell him that it was okay, that you were okay. So when he woke up to the smell of coffee he knew today was one of those days. Sluggishly making his way to the kitchen Seungmin found a note that said ‘I made you an iced americano and honey water for today, lunch is in the fridge, DON'T FORGET IT THIS TIME. I'll call on my break, I love you- yours always’. He smiled and quickly added the note to his growing collection in his wallet. It was running out of space but Seungmin would never throw one away. When he got lonely on tour he would pull each one out and read them. They made him think of you, they made him think of home. That's when it hit him, in the middle of the kitchen. He was never homesick when he was gone, he was lovesick. You were his home, his comfort, his shelter, his everything. Minnie wanted a life with you forever. He knew he couldn’t make that happen in a day but surely he could buy a ring on tour.

I.N. A kid's birthday party wasn't exactly how Jeongin wanted to spend his Saturday afternoon but when you asked him to join you for your niece's 5th birthday how could he have said no? He never says no to you. So now here he was at a rickety picnic table listening to kids scream and cry while he poked at his cake. You were long gone, swept away by family. Innie liked kids he really did but something about this setting made him never want them again. The life you two shared was hectic enough as it was. So much has happened in such a short time because of it. Jeongin was ready to slow down and take his time with you. You had only been dating for a year but he felt like so much of it was rushed due to scheduling. It was hard to find time to see each other so when you two finally did get time alone, you crammed in as much as possible. He didn’t regret it, not in the slightest. He would take a fast-paced romance over nothing at all but part of him wished he got to enjoy it more. Innie didn’t know how much time he got with you before it was going to be over and done with. Why was he spending it at a stupid child's birthday party rather than being with you? A huff of annoyance left his lips rather loudly making a few people turn to look at him. In the clearing of bodies, he saw you, with a little baby girl in your arms. You were cooing at her and playing with a rattle. The smile on your face was the most adorable thing he had ever seen, he really wish he got time to appreciate your smile more. The giggle that left you as the baby joined along was infectious, Innie had to giggle too. Did you always giggle like that? He began to notice the little things from how your eyes crinkled to the little bouncy steps you took. Time slowed down for a moment and he realized something. Why did your love have to end in a fiery blaze of glory? He wanted years, not minutes. He wanted love, not lust. He wanted you and only you. He knew now wasn’t the time but he was going to make an effort to get there eventually. Right now, however, he was okay with watching his future wife enjoy the little things.

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids smut #skz smut

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