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roanofarcc · 1 year

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PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO → DUSTIN’S NEW PET

summary: steve harrington x oc

when another product of Hawkins National Laboratory escaped a long-survived nightmare alongside her sister, she crashed into one unsuspecting teenage boy and dragged him deeper into the dark mysteries that made up their hometown.

word count. 4.7k

warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.

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Sunshine had not stepped foot inside Hawkins Middle School since their experiment with El and the bathtub almost a year earlier. The building made her skin crawl as she was forced to recall that dreadful night.

Keeping her head low, Sunshine tried to focus only on the reason she was there, which Dustin had not explained well to her. All she knew was that she needed to find any of the boys before someone asked her what she was doing roaming around a middle school.

A few students lingered in the hall, but none of them seemed to care that she was there.

It didn’t take long for her to spot one of the boys. A pair of kids came rushing down the hall, one with his instantly recognizable bull cut and the other with a messy head of black hair.

“Will! Mike!” Sunshine called out and waved them down. The boys stopped in their pursuit and stumbled to a quick stop in front of her with a shared surprised expression. “I’m looking for Dustin. He told me to meet you guys here after school because he had something to show me.”

Will’s eyes widened just slightly, and Mike blew air from his cheeks.

“We’ve gotta find, now.” That was all Mike said before he took off down the hall, giving Will and Sunshine no choice but to follow.

“What’s wrong? Are you guys okay?” she asked Will, who walked beside her.

He shrugged, “I don’t know.” His face was more pale than usual and there were dark circles that hung under his brown eyes.

Mike stopped in front of a classroom. Inside the room were Lucas, Dustin, another kid she didn’t recognize, and their teacher. They were looking at some sort of box that rested on the desk, but before they could examine it, Mike yelled, “Stop!” He snatched the box and held it close to his chest, earning odd looks from everyone. “Sorry, Mr. Clarke. It was just a stupid prank.”

“What are you doing?” Lucas asked.

“We need to, right now. Right now!” Again, Mike took off out of the classroom and back down the hall. The confused kids and Sunshine exchanged a look before following after Mike in hopes of figuring out what in the world was going on inside Hawkins Middle on that sunny afternoon.

Their footsteps echoed down the nearly empty halls until they reached another room one hallway over. The boys filed into the room and Will grabbed a hold of Sunshine’s wrist, pulling her inside too. The other kid that was with them faltered at the doorway as Mike stepped in front of it, blocking the kid’s way inside.

“Party members only,” he said.

The younger girl scoffed and shot a look at Sunshine. “Who’s she?”

“An honorary party member,” Dustin said. “Sorry.”

Mike slammed the door harshly in the girl’s face before he set down the box on the table and everyone else gathered around it.

With a huff, Sunshine placed her hands on her hips and asked, “What is going on?” She didn’t even know what she was doing there, let alone what could be inside the little box on the table that had them all bent out of shape.

Mike began to explain. “Dustin found a weird creature last night in his trash and he kept it-”

“Dart,” Dustin quickly interjected. “His name is Dart.”

With a roll of his eyes, Mike continued. “He thought it was some new species he discovered, but Will said he saw something that looked just like Dart when he was in the Upside Down.”

The mention of the Upside Down sent a shiver down Sunshine’s spine. The memories of her and Nancy's quick trip to the rotting world were forever burned in her brain and she couldn’t imagine what it was like for Will, who spent days trapped there.

Will shuttered too and glanced down at his hands resting on the table. “Kind of,” he muttered. “But the thing I saw had no tail.”

“But he heard it yesterday during one of his episodes. He heard the exact same sound that Dart made in the Upside Down.”

Furrowing her brows, Sunshine asked, “Episodes?”

“Will’s been having these…these memories of the Upside Down. Or we thought they were memories at first,” Mike explained, catching Sunshine up on what she’s missed.

“It feels like I’m back there,” Will started. “I’m no longer in Hawkins, but back in the Upside Down.” The kid’s appearance started to resemble how he looked the night he was rescued from the Upside Down, sickly and tired.

Sunshine was no stranger to nightmares. It made her heart ache to think that the party was suffering from them too. They were just kids who had been through something deeply traumatic and terrible, especially Will. She wished there was something she could do to ease their minds, but that was not within her ability’s wheelhouse. The best she could do was be there for them and fight off the monsters.

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Lucas asked Will, looking over his friend with concern.

Will sighed, keeping his eyes down. “I wasn’t sure at first.”

Defiance flared up on Dustin’s face and he crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s a coincidence.”

“Or not,” Mike said. “What if when Will was stuck in the Upside Down, he somehow acquired True Sight?”

“True sight?” Sunshine repeated, not understanding what they were talking about.

“It gives you the power to see into the ethereal plane.”

Both Sunshine and Lucas exchanged looks before the latter said, “Elaborate.”

“Maybe these episodes that Will keeps having aren’t flashbacks at all. Maybe they are real and maybe he can somehow see into the Upside Down in real time,” explained Mike, causing a tense silence to roll across the room.

Goosebumps rose on Sunshine’s arms, and she swallowed thickly. “So, they’re not nightmares?”

Will looked up from where he’d glued his gaze to the floor, and she noticed something unreadable flicker behind his eyes before he shook his head. All of their attention fell onto the box on the table that began to rattle as the creature, Dart, inside tried to escape.

“Dart’s from the Upside Down. He has to be,” Mike concluded.

“Then we have to take him to Hopper,” said Lucas, and almost everyone in the room agreed, except Dustin.

“No way!” he protested loudly. “If we take him to Hopper Dart’s as good as dead.”

“Maybe he should be!” Mike countered.

The true nature of the Upside Down was a mystery to all of them. The only person who had spent time there was Will, and by the look on his face alone it was clear that Dustin’s new pet was nothing but had news. The last thing any of them needed, especially Will, was to be thrown back into the hellish nightmare they all thought they left behind last year. An adult needed to handle it, not them. They’d pass Dart off to Hopper and he would take care of it, then they’d be off the hook for anything that happened with it after the fact.

“How can you say that?” Dustin cried.

Mike’s face flushed red, and he frustratingly gestured to the shaking box. “How can you not? He’s from the Upside Down!”

“Maybe, but even if he is, that doesn’t automatically mean he’s bad.” Dustin turned to Sunshine for support, but she couldn’t help his defense. “Right?”

She sighed and kept her voice level in hopes of not attracting any unwanted attention from any passerby in the hall, something the boys didn’t seem to care about. “Mike’s right. If it is from the Upside Down, we shouldn’t risk it.”

“Exactly! That’s like saying just because someone’s from the Death Star doesn’t make them bad.”

“We have a bond,” said Dustin.

“A bond? Just because he likes nougat?”

A small headache began to drum in Sunshine’s temples from Dustin and Mike’s bickering.

“No,” Dustin muttered. “We have a bond because he trusts me.”

Lucas joined in with a roll of his eyes and said, “He trusts you?”

“Yes! I promised I would take care of him and-” Dustin was cut off by a loud screech from inside the box. The whole contraction shook until it fell over on its side. The creature inside continued to yell.

On the other side of the door, the girl from the classroom banged her fist against the door. “Guys, what is going on in there? Come on!”

None of them answered her; they were too focused on the box and the creature. Mike grabbed the closest thing to him that could be used as a weapon, which was a handheld microphone, and Sunshine readied her hands. With her fingers flexed and palms facing outward, she moved closer to the table, putting herself between Will and the table.

The box slid as it moved and before any of them could come up with some kind of game plan to trap the creature and put it in another container to hold it, the creature flung itself and the box right off the table and the door broke on impact with the floor.

Sunshine caught a quick glimpse of the creature as it scurried across the floor. It was a slimy, slung-like creature, dark in color with little feet that carried it quickly between their feet.

With a war-like yell, Mike brought his makeshift weapon down against the floor in hopes of squashing Dart under it, but it was too fast and avoided Mike.

“Shit!” he yelled.

Dustin dove against the floor and tried to catch his pet with his hands, but his movements were too clumsy for the confined space and all he got was a hand full of dust and his chin scrapped against the floor.

When both of those attempts failed, Sunshine went to illuminate her hands and stop the creature for good, but before she could get a flicker to erupt in her palms, the door to the room was swung open. Dart made a beeline for the exit and the kids chased after him.

All four of them tried to get out of the room at once, which only slowed them down.

Dustin toppled over the redheaded girl who opened the door, and they both landed on the ground in a series of groans. Lucas barreled after them and tripped over their sprawled-out limbs, landing beside the two of them. Will rushed out behind Mike, who managed to stop before he tripped, but the force of Will sent him falling anyway.

Out of all of them, Sunshine was the only one who managed to stay upright. Her eyes searched up and down the hall in search of Dart, but it had disappeared in the commotion.

“Where’d he go?” Lucas rushed out, quickly standing to his feet and brushing off his jeans.

“What was that?” the redhead asked, shoving Dustin’s shoulder off of her arm with a small huff.

Will replied, “Dart!”

With a pointed glare at the redhead, Mike shouted, “You let him escape!”

Once Dustin was standing, he threw his hands up. “Why did you attack him?”

Before another fight broke out, Lucas grabbed a hold of Dustin's coat sleeve and started to drag him down the hall. “We’ll look for him by the art room,” Lucas said. “Split up and radio if you find him.”

Dustin added, “Don’t hurt him!” before they turned the corner.

Rolling his eyes at Dustin, Mike grabbed Will and they split off in the opposite direction, leaving behind Sunshine and the redhead in a slight daze around everything that had just happened.

If Will was right and Dart was a creature from the Upside, he could be dangerous. The only thing any of them had encountered from the other universe was the Demogorgon, and that monster was anything but friendly; it was bloodthirsty and had no issue hunting down people to satisfy its appetite.

Granted, Dart was much smaller than a Demogorgon, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t become that dangerous. It was loose in Hawkins Middle and if they didn’t find it soon, the creature could flee to anywhere in town.

Sunshine glanced at the clueless young girl standing beside her, with arms crossed over her chest and a pinched expression on her pale face.

“Do you want to help me look in the next hall over?” Sunshine asked her.

She did not want to drag another person, let alone a kid, into the mess that was the Upside Down, but she had a feeling the redhead wasn’t going to forever about the whole thing and go home. If she offered to look with the new girl, at least she could prevent anything bad from happening or from the kid discovering something she wasn’t supposed to.

“How do you know them?” the redhead asked. “Are you their babysitter or something?”

“Sort of,” Sunshine replied. Her relationship with the party was a little more complicated than that, but she supposed from the outside she did look like their babysitter. She did make a promise to look after them, but mostly in the wake of monsters or bad men.

The redhead said, “Cool,” before she started walking down the hall with Sunshine beside her. “I’m Max, by the way.”

Max looked like a typical middle schooler, with a glint of curiosity in her bright blue eyes and a tenseness in her shoulders.

“I’m Danielle, but everyone calls me Sunshine.”

“Sunshine?” Max repeated with a slight quirk of her lips upwards. “Cool nickname.”

As they continued down the hall on their search, looking closely at the floor and peeking into the few classrooms that had their doors cracked, Dart was nowhere to be found.

Eventually, Sunshine’s walkie crackled in her hand and the boys’ voices filled the quiet, after-school air.

“East is clear. No sigh of Dart,” reported Dustin.

“West is clear too,” Mike sighed. “Will?”

“South is clear. Lucas, anything?”

“Nothing here, man. What about you Sunshine?”

Pressed her lips into a thin line, and worry started to take hold at the disappearance of the possible mini-Upside Down monster. “Nothing yet,” she answered.

The two girls stood at the end of the hall for a moment. Sunshine tried to think of where a little slug-like monster would hide. She wasn’t familiar with the school, but Max knew the lay of the land a little bit better.

“What about the locker rooms?” she suggested.

“Good idea.”

They reached the locker rooms that were split on either side of the gym. “We can split up. I’ll take the boys and you take the girls,” said Max.

Sunshine hesitated. She didn’t like the idea of sending Max off on her own to look for Dart. However, the monster was little, and Sunshine liked to believe it was harmless for the time being. Besides, there was no guarantee that Max would even find it in the boys’ locker room.

“Here.” Sunshine handed off her walkie-talkie to Max just in case. “If you find Dart, radio the boys.”

Max kept her hands in her pockets and flickered her gaze between the walkie and Sunshine. “But that’s yours. I don’t want to break it or something.”

“It’s okay,” Sunshine reassured her, yet Max still looked unsure.

“But what if you find Dart?”

Shooting the younger girl a small smile, Sunshine said, “I can handle a little slug, don’t worry about me.” She all but shoved her walkie into Max’s hand before she took off toward the girls’ locker room.

Luckily, it was free of middle schoolers. All that was inside the locker room were uniforms shoved in lockers and the smell of B.O. mixed with overpowering perfume.

Sunshine looked up and down each row, under each bench, in each bathroom stall, and in the showers. There was no sign of Dart anywhere.

With a sigh, she held out her hands out in front of her and thought of another way to catch him. If Sunshine couldn’t chase the creature, maybe she could lure it to her.

When they hunted the Demogorgon, blood attracted it. If Dart was from the Upside Down, there was a chance blood would draw it to her in a similar fashion.

She closed her eyes, tucked back in the far corner of the locker room in case someone entered, and allowed light to flicker to life in her palms. Not long after she illuminated her hands, blood started to drip from her nose. She didn’t wipe the crimson liquid away like she normally did. Instead, she wandered around the locker room a little while longer in hopes that Dart would appear, but it didn’t.

The sound of footsteps outside the locker room caught her attention and she quickly extinguished her hands before she stepped back out into the hall. A figure slipped around the corner just as she spotted them, but they vanished before she could call out to them. Sunshine assumed it was one of the kids.

“Max?” She rose her voice and began to walk in the same direction the figure had run, but a crash from inside the gym pulled her attention away.

Pushing open the gym doors, Sunshine was met with Max on the ground, a skateboard rolling across the floor, and Mike offered his hand to the redhead to help her up.

“What happened?” Sunshine asked, crossing the expanse of the gym. She tried to ignore the memories that crept up her spine. Being back in the gym made her think of Eleven. It clouded her thoughts and her focus slipped away from Dart and the rest of the kids for just a moment until Max was back on her feet and rubbed her elbow.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It was like a magnet, or something pulled my board.”

Mike’s head snapped to the gym doors, and before Sunshine would utter a word to him, he bolted out of the gym, leaving the two girls, once again, alone together and confused.

Max pointed a finger at Sunshine and said, “Your nose is bleeding.”

“Oh.” Sunshine reached up and wiped the blood away with the sleeve of her sweater, still focused on the door and Mike. Something tugged at her chest, an uncomfortable feeling that squeezed her heart enough to tell her they should leave and find where all of the boys were. The hair on her arms stood on end and she didn’t know if it was simply the memories of last year that the gym conjured up or if something was wrong.

Suddenly, Will’s voice came through on the walkie-talkie Max had sat on the ground beside her backpack. “Guys,” he whispered. “I found him.”

“Where?” Lucas asked.

“In the bathroom by Mr. Salerno’s.”

The whole group met back up at the spot Will was supposed to be with Dart. Sunshine and Max arrived last, but when they arrived and entered the restroom, ready to catch Dart and put an end to their chase, they were only met with Dustin searching the stalls frantically.

“Where’s Dart?” Mike asked, slightly out of breath from running.

Dustin adjusted his cap on top of his head and stepped out of the farthest stall with a shrug. “He’s not here.”

“He said by Salerno’s, right?” asked Max.

“Yeah,” Lucas nodded, scratching his head. “Maybe Will has him?”

Scanning the bathroom, the pit in Sunshine’s stomach worsened. Anxiety pricked her skin and caused her heart to beat faster. Only three boys were with her and Max in the bathroom. They were missing one.

“Where is Will?” Sunshine asked, keeping her voice level.

“Shit,” Mike muttered under his breath. “We've gotta find him. Now!”

He must have felt it too, the shift in the air into something wrong.

They were running, again, and searching through the hallways of Hawkins Middle School. Inside every opened classroom they called out Will’s name, but he wasn’t there.

Sunshine hadn’t known about Will’s episodes, and that news only added her to franticness in finding the boy.

“Dustin!” A new voice echoed down the hall, stopping the group that had split off together in their tracks. Sunshine, Max, and Dustin skidded to a stop in front of Joyce Byers, who had arrived at the school to pick up her son.

“What’s going on?” Joyce asked, looking at the group that lacked Will. “Where’s Will?”

Mike and Lucas had split up to search for Will, and they came barreling through the back doors of the school just down the hall from where the rest of the group stood, unsure of what to say to Joyce.

“The field! Will’s in the field!” Mike shouted, urging them to follow him and Lucas outside.

Will stood frozen in the middle of a grassy field behind the building. His eyelids were closed but under them, his eyes moved around frantically like he was dreaming.

His mother reached him first and grabbed his shoulders as she tried to shake him out of his daze. Will didn’t budge though; his body was still but Sunshine imagined, if the boys were right about his episodes, his mind was racing.

“We just found him like his,” Mike cried. “I think he’s having another episode.”

“Will! Sweetie, wake up,” pleaded Joyce. Pain drenched her voice. “It’s mom. Please wake up, Will!”

Sunshine held her breath as the scene unfolded. It was almost familiar to her. The eerie stillness and shifting eyes reminded her of Nine when he would have episodes of his own. On the outside, it looked like he was sleeping standing upright, but inside the little boy’s head was a blur of futures that bled together in a raging storm. The only thing they could do when Nine fell into an episode was wait it out, no matter how painful it was to do nothing.

They did the same for Will and waited as Joyce continued to shake his shoulders and wake him up. It took a couple of agonizing minutes but simply standing by, but Will eventually pulled himself out of it. His eyes opened and a strangled gasp tumbled off his lips. He looked around blankly for a moment before he was swept away by his mother who quickly ushered him into the front seat of her car, leaving the rest of the party on the grassy field in varying levels of distress over their friend.

“Okay,” Max said, breaking the tense silence. “That totally freaked me out. Did that not freak you guys out?”

The boys ignored her question.

“Two episodes in two days,” Lucas sighed and shook his head. He stared off in the direction Joyce and Will had walked away with his lips downturned.

“It’s getting worse,” said Mike.

Dustin adjusted his cap once more as he asked, “Do you think it’s True Sight?”

“What’s True Sight?” Max tried to wriggle herself into their conversation, but she had no real understanding of what was going on and Sunshine wanted to keep it that way.

A familiar feeling of dread wrapped around Sunshine like an uncomfortable embrace. They were coming up on a year since the events of last year, and that alone seemed to put everyone on edge. There was a chance that it was all simply just the anniversary effect and that nothing was happening, but the memories of what happened almost a year ago took on a life of their own inside their minds and made them think something bad was happening when in reality nothing was going on.

However, Will’s episodes looked like a lot more than the mind messing with him, and there was an unshakeable feeling that clawed at her bones and filled her with dread. It wasn’t easy for her to hide that feeling either; it was written in her pinched expression.

Beside her, Lucas bumped her arm and knocked her out of her thoughts. “What is it, Sunshine?”

She sighed and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “I don’t know,” she answered, truthfully.

With a face permanently flushed with confusion, Max huffed, probably annoyed at the cryptic group. “What is going on?”

“Uh,” Lucas cleared his throat. “M-Max. You should come with us. We’re gonna…We’ll try to explain it.”

Sunshine’s eyes widened and she was about to shut down that idea but as Lucas and Dustin began to leave with Max, Lucas glanced over his shoulder and met Sunshine’s gaze, assuring her he wasn’t going to completely violate their signed contracts.

She could only hope they could lie well enough to throw Max off their trail and make sure she stayed far away from whatever was happening, for her own sake and safety.

It was only Mike and Sunshine left in the field, and the younger boy let his tension-filled shoulders slump. “He’s going to be okay, right?” he asked in a quiet voice. His brash tone and pre-teen attitude had melted away the moment his friends were gone. The anger he clenched tightly in his fists and kept in his shoulders changed into something sadder and more childlike.

“We’ll figure it out.” That was the only sure thing she could offer him. She knew the same or possibly less than he did about what was going on with Will. “Whatever is happing, we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

A beat passed between them, and Mike tried to discreetly wipe his nose and cheeks with the sleeve of his jacket. “Back in the gym, I thought I…I saw something…”

“Dart?”

Mike shook his head and met her gaze. He sighed and said, “Nothing. Never mind. It’s stupid.”

As much as he tried to Mike his feelings behind a roll of his eyes or a snarky attitude, Mike Wheeler was easy to read. He was a pre-teen boy trapped in a situation beyond his control that he believed he could lead his friends through without a scratch on any of them. Or that was the Mike Sunshine had met a year ago. He wasn’t afforded the luxury of hanging onto that belief for very long, not after Eleven died. It was the harrowing experience of growing up and realizing you nor your friends were invincible.

“You miss her,” Sunshine said, knowing what his answer was.

Mike had taken El’s death the hardest, but all of the sadness he felt had turned into anger over the whole situation that none of them should have been placed in in the first place. It reminded Sunshine of the rage Ivy felt once the reality that Three was not coming back to them hit her. At first, Ivy refused to believe it, but once she let it sink in, she became so full of anger that she never resolved. She died angry. Three died terrified. And Eleven died fighting a monster to save her friends.

They had to deal with the aftermath; it was up to them to pick up the pieces without uttering a word to anyone who wasn’t involved.

“Yeah,” Mike managed to say. “And now with Will…” he trailed off, all of his feelings spiraling in real time under Sunshine’s watchful eye.

A sad glint reflected the sun that poked out from behind the cloud cover as she softly said his name.

“This is so stupid!” Mike yelled suddenly, startling Sunshine. “It’s supposed to be over! El killed that stupid monster and that’s it.” He held back his tears and clenched his jaw before he continued, “And Will, he came back but now he-he’s different! Something i-is wrong, and Dart is missing, and…and I can’t-” Mike cut himself off with a frustrated groan as a couple of tears slipped down his cheeks and his face flushed.

Taking one step at a time, she closed the distance between Mike and herself. Placing one hand carefully on his shoulder, she tried to think of something to say to him that would ease some of his worries, but before she could say anything, Mike threw his lanky arms around her torso and hid his crying face in the fabric of Sunshine’s coat.

The fight and anger left him completely and he was just a kid that was scared of what was going to happen next.

Resting her chin on top of Mike’s head, Sunshine sighed as the sun moved back behind the clouds and casted Hawkins in a gray glow once more, only adding to the somber mood.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said, not only trying to convince Mike but herself as well. “We’ll be okay.”

Tag list. @leptitlu @sattlersquarry @lovefrom-theother-side

#stranger things #steve harrington #max mayfield #mike wheeler #will byers #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #project sunshine

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anubislover · 2 years

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Miscalculations and Misfits

The Big Daddy was hardly the most reputable tavern, nor the cleanest, but considering how the entirety of Joras had been damp, dreary, and full of people giving him and his crew suspicious glances, it suited Law just fine. He was a rookie pirate anyway, so the eighteen-year-old captain rarely felt any inclination to show his face in more respectable establishments. What mattered to him was that it was dry, the food was edible, the ale was strong, and there were only seven other customers, a barkeeper, a cook in the back, and a tavern maid manning the tables, so it was relatively quiet compared to most places a pirate might visit when seeking a meal not cooked in their own galley. Sure, a few people had still given questioning glares, especially since he’d walked in with a sword nearly as tall as himself and a polar bear, but for the most part the clientele seemed more interested in sharing grim stories or serenading the tavern maid with macabre folk songs. So, the quartet had ordered their food with the confidence they wouldn’t be chased out should anyone recognize the jolly roger on any of their backs.

Booted feet propped up on the creaky wooden table, Law linked his fingers behind his head as he regarded Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo. His oldest friends had uncharacteristically serious expressions on their faces, especially considering how they would usually be joking around and chatting loudly in most circumstances. Golden eyes narrowed in irritation. They hadn’t shown nearly this much resistance with any of his past recruits. Hell, the main difference between their new shipmate and the rest was the fact that he’d actually asked her to join, unlike, say, Darter who had simply declared he was trading in his serial killer career for piracy, or Crozier who had taken one look at a ship full of teens and decided they needed adult supervision.

Well, there was one other difference, he supposed, but if the guys were seriously giving him the stink-eye because a girl was joining the Heart Pirates, he might just remove their eyeballs for a bit. Ok, not Bepo’s, but only because his expression was more worried than judgmental. And it was infinitely cuter than the others, but he wouldn’t admit that, even on his death bed.

“Are you three seriously going to give me crap about the new girl?” Law finally asked, raising an eyebrow challengingly. “I wasn’t aware that ‘No Girls Allowed’ was one of my ship’s articles.”

Behind his sunglasses, Shachi rolled his eyes before sneering, “Oh, so sorry, Cap; here I thought we were looking to hire a new mechanic. Not picking up some eye candy.”

“She is our new mechanic; she’s the reason we weren’t screwed out of millions of berri for a new engine and instead just had to pay for a few new parts. She sure as fuck diagnosed the problem faster than Hikigaeru-ya ever could!”

The entire table’s expressions soured substantially at the name. All except Bepo who instead hung his head shamefully, the tips of his claws making soft clicks as they tapped together. He had nothing to be ashamed of, of course, but the polar bear Mink clearly still felt guilty. It had been three months since their former mechanic had been chained to a desolate rock in the middle of the ocean, his torso cut open to expose his organs and muscles to the hungry seabirds that flew overhead.

Cruel and unusual punishment? Yes, but the bastard had deserved it. The fucker had been smart enough to keep his racism against Minks mostly to himself for the six months he had sailed with them, but he’d belittled and tormented poor Bepo in private during his entire tenure as a Heart. And because Bepo was meek and a people-pleaser, he’d stayed quiet about it until Darter had brought up his concerns about the Mink’s increasingly depressive moods, and the captain finally made him spill the beans. No one should have had to endure that—least of all someone as good as Bepo.

Law was still kicking himself over not noticing that the now ex-mechanic had been mistreating Bepo. As much as he’d like to say anyone would have been fooled, the fact was he’d made a lot of mistakes since he and his friends had set out to sea two years ago. He’d been an angry sixteen-year-old with big plans for revenge. Even more aggressive and reckless at seventeen when he’d started making a name for himself but wasn’t seeing as much progress as he’d liked. That had unfortunately led to frustration, which led to more anger and recklessness, which had resulted in mistakes. Failures. His subordinates getting hurt both physically and emotionally. If nothing else, the realization that he’d failed to notice Bepo’s mistreatment for so long had been the wake-up call Law needed. As much as he wanted to destroy Joker and burn his empire to the ground, he had a duty to his subordinates. He’d never admit it aloud, but he loved those loyal idiots who were willing to follow him into Hell itself. He owed it to them to protect them as best he could. Starting with getting their submarine fixed and recruiting a mechanic that wasn’t a two-faced prick.

“Ok, let’s say she’s as skilled as you say. It’s true we need a mechanic, and those are in short supply. But the reason you sacked Hikigaeru wasn’t due of a lack of skill; it was because he was a massive dick to Bepo,” Penguin reminded him bluntly, crossing his arms across his chest. “You said you wouldn’t make the same mistake with his replacement.”

“I did and I’m not!” Law argued. It was true. With Hikigaeru, he’d been thinking only of the necessity of having a mechanic on board. He and the boys had managed to keep the Polar Tang running with the basic maintenance skills Wolfe had taught them, but it was vital to have someone who could actually repair a broken engine or diagnose problems. But he hadn’t considered the importance of assessing the man’s character as well as his skills. That had been a mistake, so this time, he was trusting both his brain and his gut. And they were both telling him that Ikkaku was perfect for the job and the crew.

Despite having just a secretarial job at the shipyard and being dressed in a crop top and shorts that should have guaranteed hypothermia, the girl had known her stuff. Her boss, Mr. Bowers, had told Law that the whole engine would need to be replaced—a costly job, to be sure. One any business would be thrilled to do for the amount of berri it would give them and would keep the Heart Pirates stuck on the dreary island for at least a week or two. But then Ikkaku had spoken up. Told Law that she did her own diagnostic, and the engine was easily fixed with just a few new parts that would cost him barely a tenth of what Mr. Bowers had estimated, and she could get it done herself in only four hours.

That had made quite the impression on Law. Ikkaku had risked her career to keep Law from getting swindled, standing up to an asshole boss for a guy she’d just met. He still wasn’t entirely sure why she did it; such altruism wasn’t exactly pirate-material. But she had guts, and the second she’d proven she could put her money where her mouth was and fix the engine as easily as she’d boasted, Law had already kind of staked his claim on her.

On top of that, Ikkaku had a quality that he’d realized the rest of the crew was sadly lacking—she was willing to call her superior out on his shit. As much as he loved the boys and how supportive they were, Law had come to realize that the Hearts were, at their worst, enablers. They always let him have his way. Darter cheered him on when he got sadistic and considered him an artist. Crozier was no-nonsense but firmly believed in following his captain’s orders regardless of whether they were the right ones. Malamute and Shiroiruka had been in a gang before joining him and eagerly did what their new boss told them to do. Not even his original trio of loyal misfits were willing to tell him “No” most of the time. Bepo was too meek while Penguin and Shachi still retained their fascination and hero worship from their younger years.

It figured that now, when he was actually getting his act together and found someone willing to give him some well-deserved shit, that his friends finally decided to push back. The irony annoyed him immensely.

“And yet the second she lays eyes on him, your new recruit literally shrieked in fear,” Shachi stated, bearing his pointed teeth aggressively. It was clear his defiance of his captain’s orders was solely due to his desire to protect Bepo, which Law could respect. He suspected much of it was due to guilt; he’d bullied Bepo in their youth, and even now still picked on him occasionally. Perhaps he’d seen too much of his younger self in Hikigaeru’s misbehavior. Perhaps he wished to make amends. A commendable reason, but sadly one that made him blind to the fact that Ikkaku wasn’t their enemy.

“Well, yeah! Most people are gonna be scared when coming face-to-face with a polar bear!” Law defended. Admittedly he did feel a bit guilty about that; he should have warned Ikkaku that the crew wasn’t entirely human, if only so Bepo wouldn’t feel self-conscious. He’d neglected to inform her as a joke—it was always funny to watch a newbie freak out when they were suddenly in the presence of a large bear in an orange jumpsuit. Usually, after some initial panic, they quickly realized he was basically a big teddy bear when it came to the crew. Only this time, Bepo’s skin wasn’t as thick. His wounds from Hikigaeru’s mistreatment were still too fresh. And he couldn’t have predicted that Ikkaku’s grandfather had been mauled by a polar bear in his youth and she’d grown up with nightmares from the story. Once again, he’d been reckless, though luckily his miscalculation hadn’t been too costly. Just some hurt feelings and misunderstandings that had been somewhat ironed out. Both parties had left the encounter shaken, but apologies had been exchanged, and Law was confident that his cute navigator would quickly endear himself to the new mechanic. Trauma aside, Ikkaku hadn’t seemed to care that he was a Mink, which was already a step up from Hikigaeru. In fact, she’d been quite contrite and ashamed of her reaction as Law had walked her to the edge of town after, asking him to pass on further apologies to Bepo and promises that she’d make it up to him.

Yes, Law had definitely screwed up with the introduction, but it had served to prove that he’d ultimately made the right decision with his new hire—he couldn’t remember ever hearing Hikigaeru apologize, even while the seagulls pecked out his liver. Mostly he’d just screamed, which had been quite the satisfying sound, but while Law had enjoyed it, it hadn’t really helped Bepo.

“I’m sorry,” the Mink whimpered, interrupting his train of thought.

“Ugh, you don’t need to apologize, Bepo,” he quickly amended, taking his feet off the table so he could reach across to pat his furry shoulder reassuringly. “She just wasn’t expecting to meet a bear. You’re an apex predator, remember? You’re supposed to be fuckin’ scary!”

“But I don’t want to scare my nakama,” the navigator replied, eyes watering a bit.

“And you won’t, because she’s not going to be nakama,” Shachi cut in, fists clenching. He hadn’t said two words to the new girl, but he’d already decided she didn’t belong, and nothing Law said would change his mind.

“Yeah, she is,” Law snapped, glaring at the redhead, practically daring him to keep defying his orders. It was getting more and more tempting to take him outside and beat the insolence out of him, but he refrained. Shachi standing up to him, especially in defense of Bepo, was ultimately a good thing, so he needed to solve this matter diplomatically. Or at least without physical violence. “I’m fetching her first thing tomorrow after she’s said her goodbyes and gotten her affairs in order. And even though she’s already apologized, the first thing I’ll have her do when she boards is apologize to Bepo again.”

“I’m not mad at her, Law,” the bear insisted, round ears drooping but expression a little less sad. “It’s not her fault she was scared of me. I’ll…I’ll give her some space for a few days so she can get used to everything, then maybe we could try again.”

While things weren’t going as smoothly as he’d hoped when this conversation started, at least Law seemed to be getting through to one of the trio. Considering how Bepo was the actual injured party in all this, his opinion held far more weight than the other two. Still, he’d rather have all three of them back on his side. Ikkaku didn’t need to come onto a ship full of hostility; he’d already seen her get dirty looks from her former colleagues, and he was sure he’d caught a few civilians glaring at her as they’d walked through town. He’d nearly insisted on escorting her the two miles through the moors to the lighthouse, but she’d claimed that she was safer outside of town than in.

She was a weird kid, but then again the island itself was pretty fucking weird. Joras was rather infamous among the North Blue. Stories of ancient horrors and the cultists who worshiped them were still told around the fireside to scare children. Arkham Hospital boasted incredible medical minds but also unethical practices. Lobster buoys were carved to look like grotesque human heads. The dead were cremated due to an alleged incident where corpses came back to life and wreaked havoc across the land. The birth rate of twins was unusually high, with some claiming they had psychic powers. Ten years ago, there had even been a plague that had caused the afflicted to go mad and bloodthirsty.

This island was fucked up, and Law could hardly wait to leave. Yes, places like the hospital were intriguing, but the fog was dense, the smell of fish and smog was far from appealing, and even he could say the feeling of paranoia and ennui that hung over most of the locals was extreme. It was clear Ikkaku didn’t belong here. Hell, she was the brightest, most vibrant thing he’d seen on the island, and he was looking forward to stealing her away from this place.

Now he just had to get the boys on the same page.

Turning towards his quartermaster, Law hoped Penguin would be more reasonable than Shachi. He’d always been a little bit calmer and more forward-thinking, even if his reckless streak was still a mile long. “Her completely understandable reaction to a polar bear aside, are you foreseeing any problems with my decision?” Not that it would change Law’s mind, of course, but if there was going to be a mutiny, he’d rather know what to look for so he could see it coming.

Mouth twisting in thought and irritation, Penguin replied, “Not to be sexist, but a woman aboard an all-male ship is gonna change the dynamic, Law. You’re smart enough to know that, right?”

“Lack of Y-chromosome or not, I’m expecting her to be treated the same as anyone else on the ship. Or did I recruit a bunch of brainless horndogs who only think with their dicks?”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Good, because given how her old boss made her dress, I’m planning on giving her full permission to kick anyone that treats her like a piece of meat right in the balls. And I won’t be giving them painkillers after.”

All three boys winced. It was not an empty threat.

Clearing his throat, Penguin sought to explain himself. “I meant that having a girl around means a lot of adjustments are gonna have to be made. I doubt she’ll be comfortable bunking with any of the boys, so she’ll need her own quarters. For laundry rotation, is she going to be ok with somebody else washing her underwear and stuff? We have communal showers for fuck’s sake, Law. Even if none of us are attracted to her, it’s still going to be weird and awkward for everyone.”

“Me more than anyone else,” Law countered. Yes, he had considered the ramifications of a woman aboard the ship. He had to. He was the doctor, after all. “Don’t forget I’ll be giving her medical examinations, including some pretty female-specific ones.” Which reminded him, he’d need to brush up on birth control and pelvic exams and menstrual cycles. Luckily, he was hardly squeamish, though he could agree it would likely be a bit awkward to discuss these things with his new subordinate. But he’d meant what he’d said about her being treated the same as the rest of the crew, and that meant she’d be getting a full medical exam the moment they set out.

That did seem to mollify Penguin a little bit, as his shoulders relaxed and he sighed. “Alright, Captain. I’ll take your word for it that you’ve got everything all figured out.”

“Are you seriously gonna just roll over like that and let him win?” Shachi exclaimed.

“Hey, at least this way when it all goes to shit and Law looks like a fool, I get to rub it in his face and say ‘I told you so’ for once,” he chuckled, smirking at his captain. Yes, he still had his reservations, but if Law was really that fixated on making Ikkaku their engineer, there wasn’t really anyone who could stop him. Not even Ikkaku herself. If she’d refused his offer to join the Hearts, there was no doubt in Penguin’s mind that their next mission would involve kidnapping her before setting off for the next island.

Which, yeah, would be pretty shitty of them, but hey, they were pirates, after all. And at least their uniform was less ridiculous than what he’d first seen her in. Had Bowers really required her to dress like that? It was like he was trying to have her catch pneumonia or something. So really, this was beginning to feel more like a rescue. How unusually noble of his sadistic friend. The recent changes in Law’s habits and demeanor had not gone unnoticed by Penguin, and he was now curious to see how things would play out under this calmer, more forward-thinking Law.

Law could see the frustration lining Shachi’s face at having lost both his allies in this petty argument to his captain’s side. His own lips pursed in displeasure. It was an expression he usually saw in the midst of squabbles with Penguin; a sign the stubborn redhead wasn’t giving up the fight just yet, despite having clearly already lost.

Thankfully, before Shachi could start another argument, the tavern maid came over with their meals. She was pretty enough with a smile friendlier than most on the island, but like all servers, the sincerity of it could never be fully trusted. “Sorry it took so long, gents,” she said, setting down the heavy tray laden with plates of grilled fish, clam chowder, and steamed lobster. The cheap price for the latter had initially raised a few eyebrows, but the woman had explained that the surrounding seas in fact had an overabundance of the crustaceans, so it was rather common fare. “Had a feisty one in today’s catch. Nearly took the cook’s finger off. But I’m sure a group of strong lads like you are brave enough to brave these beasts,” she giggled, giving Law a flirtatious wink.

“If it’s already dead, I doubt much bravery’s needed,” Law said with a disinterested shrug, grabbing one of the pints of beer and a bowl of chowder, blatantly ignoring the roll that had come with it. “At least now we can shove food in Shachi’s face to shut him up.”

The redhead flipped him off in response, which Law nonchalantly returned.

“It’ll be ok, Shachi,” Bepo attempted to mollify as he eagerly tucked into a massive piece of fish. “It’s important that we have a good mechanic on the ship, and I trust Law’s judgement. And just because we had a rocky start doesn’t mean we won’t become friends. I mean, you and Penguin beat me up when we met, but we’re nakama now, right? Give her a chance.”

Both Penguin and Shachi tugged their hats over their eyes in shame while a small spike of guilt hit Law at the words. Fuck, Bepo was really too good. Yes, he was doing his best to not make another mistake that could hurt his navigator, but the fact that Bepo so easily trusted his decision despite his past fuckups proved that he really was a better friend than he rightly deserved. And he even forgave Penguin and Shachi for how they initially treated him and considered them his true companions. How was Bepo able to go through life having been hurt so often but not holding any grudges? It was a complete mystery to someone like him.

“Ya’ll hired a mechanic from around here?” the maid asked as she set out forks and spoons and knives for the table, not dissuaded by Law’s brush-off. It was her job to be charming, and there’d been plenty of gossip about the crew that had sailed in on a submarine of all things. Including an outrageous story that Mr. Bowers had gotten decapitated, but his head had still been talking and screaming even afterwards. That was odd, even by Joras’ standards. “Our docks have some of the best in the North. Even the Marines have come recruiting for bright lads to work on their new warships,” she added proudly.

Shachi quickly latched onto that little tidbit. “Hey Law, if your newbie’s so good, how come the Marines haven’t snatched her up?”

“Because she’s got taste,” he countered easily, taking a sip of chowder. Not really to his tastes, but it was hot and still better than anything he and the boys could make. Once they had their mechanic settled in, he should probably start looking for a proper cook.

“Probably took one look at those ugly Navy uniforms and said ‘Nah, man, I’d rather be a pirate and wear a badass boiler suit’,” Penguin joked, attempting to dissipate the tension. Really, this argument was getting tiresome. Law had already made it obvious he’d made his decision, and if Shachi wasn’t careful, he’d end up with worse punishment than laundry duty for insubordination. “I think you’re just worried that Ikkaku’ll wear it better than you.”

Before Shachi could deny it, there was a clatter as the tavern maid dropped one of the tankards of ale, eyes wide and jaw hanging as she stared at the young men sitting at her table.

“You…you’re pirates? Hiring the Light Keeper’s granddaughter?” the tavern maid asked. Her voice wasn’t especially loud, but apparently the horrified words had carried to the ears of every man in the building, with even the cook coming out to stare at them. The entire room went silent, full attention on the outsiders that had apparently committed some outrageous faux pas.

Law frowned and his brow furrowed in annoyance. He could tolerate being questioned by his oldest friends, but total strangers? A man could only put up with so much. If people kept bitching and moaning about his decision to take Ikkaku away, he might have to add some actual heads to the weird-ass buoys in the harbor. “Her old man is the lighthouse keeper, and yes, I’m hiring her,” he stated through clenched teeth, a vein on his jaw ticking with irritation.

“You seem surprised. Why? There something we should know?” Shachi asked, resting his chin in his palms as he leaned in intently. Finally, something to support his argument that the new girl was bad news! “Skeletons in her closet? Dark secrets she’s been keeping? Is she really an undercover Marine looking to infiltrate pirate crews?”

“Well, it’s just…”

“The girl’s cursed,” a grizzled fisherman a few tables over interrupted, turning in his seat to face the newcomers. He looked to be nearly eighty, though a life on the harsh North Blue waters easily could have aged him. “Aye, cursed since she were born. There’s a damn good reason she be named after a corpse whale, lads.”

“Oh, she’s killed someone?” Law asked, mildly amused. He had a literal serial killer in his employ, so that would hardly be enough to scare him away from making her part of his crew. Hell, if anything, he’d be impressed that she had a body count already. Made him more confident that she’d settle into pirate life easily.

“Her own twin brother. Took his life before he even left the womb.”

Four pairs of eyes blinked once. Twice. Three times in confusion. “That’s…it?”

“‘That’s it’?” the maid gasped, offended. “Twins are a sign of prosperity for a family. Her mother had already had one set, so a second would be twice as lucky. They were supposed to be a sign of great things to come. But instead, she was born and didn’t even have the grace to let her brother take his first breath! It should have been her that died!”

“Seriously?” Penguin asked, expression grim. “Unless you think a fetus could possibly have murderous intent, you people can’t possibly blame her for something like that. It’s tragic, sure, but it unfortunately happens, and it’s not anyone’s fault. Especially not the baby’s.”

“And why are you so upset that the girl lived? Shouldn’t the family just be happy one of the children is alive?” Bepo asked, already feeling sorry for Ikkaku. He understood that people with happy, comfortable lives usually didn’t set out to become pirates, but did people really believe she was a killer since the day she was born? And why was there so much emphasis being put on the fact that she was a girl?

“Blasted outsiders don’t know anything, do ya?” another man yelled, slamming his mug of beer onto the bar top with a furious thunk. This one was younger than the first, but was missing an eye and had the muscles that came from working long hours on the docks. “When a boy an’ a girl are born together, it means the lad is human, while the lass be the spawn of an Old One!”

There was a moment of dumbfounded silence before Law ran a tattooed hand over his face, torn between laughing at the absurdity and groaning in exasperation. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Well, perhaps not the stupidest, but easily the top ten in Law’s book. “Firstly, I could give a whole list of reasons why that ain’t medically possible. Second, I don’t give a shit about your eldritch horror gods, and Ikkaku being some tentacle monster’s kid sounds like something out of a bad penny dreadful.”

“Yeah,” Shachi admitted, enthusiasm fading. He didn’t approve of the new recruit, but he wasn’t going to buy into such weird slander out of defiance towards her recruitment. He’d rather have actual dirt he could use against her. In fact, he was beginning to understand why Ikkaku was so willing to sail away with a bunch of pirates. “‘Yo mama banged a tentacle god’ is a great insult, but you people can’t actually believe that shit, right?”

“And thirdly, even if any of that were true, what the fuck is the correlation between ‘eldritch baby’ and ‘dead twin brother’?” Law finished, though he did give Shachi a quick, approving smirk. Oh, he hoped the redhead used that jab against some Marine. Or maybe that Basil Hawkins guy he’d seen in the paper. The weird magician would probably be far more insulted than the average sailor. Or he’d take it as a compliment. Seemed like the kind of weird thing he’d do.

The tavern maid shifted uncomfortably while the men scoffed. “Yer all a bunch of damned fools,” the old fisherman grumbled. “The Old Ones knew her oldest brother is blessed. Knew he’ll go on to do great things an’ climb up the Navy ranks. That lad’ll finally bring honor to this island’s name, but the Old Ones don’t like that. So they planted that wretched seed in her mother’s womb an’ set her out into the world to sabotage him. Startin’ by draining the life from his youngest brother.”

“Too bad a strong, handsome, intelligent man like Ushi couldn’t be stopped by a mere cursed child,” the maid said, resting her cheek in her palm and sighing dreamily. “He’s the hero we’ve been waiting for. A future champion of justice and someone who will bring glory to Joras.”

Law snorted at her clear infatuation, though he tucked away the relevant information for later. Ikkaku had a brother in the Navy? This could be a problem. Though, from the sound of things, they weren’t close. He’d have to grill her about it once she was settled in. He had no intention of rescinding his offer over it, of course—he just needed to know if she’d need to stay out of the way should their paths cross.

Marine or not, siblings shouldn’t kill each other. It was a rule Law held true to. The idea of a pirate killing their Marine brother was not a memory he wished to relive, nor could he fathom an older brother hating his little sister.

Out of the corner of his eye, Law noticed Shachi pull out his brass knuckles and start polishing them with a napkin. Meanwhile, Penguin had begun playing with one of the dinner knives that had been provided with their meals. Bepo was still eating his fish, but his ears were perked up and swiveling around, alert for any sounds that could signal trouble. Golden eyes flicked down to where Kikoku leaned against the edge of the table, her cursed blade eager for the prospect of tasting blood.

His attention returned to the other patrons, who were muttering in agreement at the woman’s claims. The old fisherman nodded with approval, though his face was still lined with bitterness. “In the old days, even the merfolk would’ve shunned that girl. She would’ve been raised in isolation until she turned sixteen, then returned to the sea as a bride to the Great Dreamer.”

“You sure we can’t still do that?” the barkeep chuckled, though it held no mirth. “The Light Keeper’s been guarding her since she was six. Basically the same thing, living alone with a crazy old man and his dog for a decade. There’s still time, if you think drowning her will appease something.”

“Don’t think we need to, if this lot’s taking her,” the one-eyed worker noted, his attention returning to the pirates seated at the table. “Be doin’ us all a service, taking her out t’ sea with ya. Though, it’s on yer heads if the Great Dreamer claims yer ship because of it.”

A few men laughed, but the tavern maid’s face was lined with fright. “No, we can’t let them take her!” she exclaimed, grabbing the old man’s arm desperately. “Don’t you see? We can’t let her be associated with pirates! What about Ushi?”

“Ya think Ushi could be killed by a cursed pup like her?” the old man scoffed.

“She’s doesn’t have to,” the barkeep pointed out, rubbing his chin in thought. “If the Navy finds out his sister is a pirate, it could reflect badly on him. Maybe even prevent him from becoming an admiral.”

There was a murmur throughout the tavern, several men commiserating before the old man at last nodded solemnly. “Aye, yer right. The lass must’ve bewitched these fools into taking her along so she could fulfill her dark mission.”

“She hardly ‘bewitched’ me,” Law pointed out, setting down his now empty soup bowl and finally bothering to chime into this ridiculous conversation once more. “If you all hate her so much, I’ll gladly do everyone the favor of getting her the fuck away from you freaks. Call it my good deed for the century.”

His cheek only served to agitate the mob, though Law hardly cared. He didn’t owe these people or their beliefs a lick of respect. Really, this island had gone through a booming industrial revolution in the past fifty years, yet they still held onto backwards beliefs like this?

Yeah, Ikkaku was definitely better off with a gang of pirates.

“If ya take her, she could jeopardize everything,” the dock worker growled. “This island’s reputation has haunted us for too long. But that’s all gonna change! Ushi is the one who’ll banish those old ghosts and allow us t’ truly prosper.”

“You talk about getting rid of a shitty reputation, but you’re not exactly doing much to prove it wrong,” Law pointed out. “Which is it? Do you not believe in your old ways, or do you still think a girl is the spawn of some weird god? Or do you not actually believe that one but pay it lip service because you need a scapegoat so you have a reason for why your lives are so miserable?”

The atmosphere in the room grew even more tense, Law clearly having touched a nerve.

“We’ll give ya one chance,” the old man said coldly, ignoring the question. He stepped forward and drew a knife from his wool overcoat. He’d apparently taken up point as the ringleader, the rest of the small mob falling in line behind him. “You an’ yer crew sail out. Tonight. Leave the lass behind. We’ll deal with her like we shoulda done when she were first born.”

The rim of Law’s hat cast an ominous shadow as he stated, “Counteroffer; you all shut the fuck up and return to your seats. My crew and I finish up our business on the island, then we sail away. With Ikkaku, as our new mechanic.” He could hear Shachi grunt behind him, though it didn’t seem to be in disagreement; sure, he didn’t sound enthusiastic about it, but it was clear he’d accepted that, despite his complaints, Ikkaku was coming with them. “My next offer involves you fucks ending up as a pile of limbs, so you’d be smart to back down now.”

“Fools don’t know what yer dealin’ with,” the old man sneered, pointing the dagger at Law threateningly. “Cursed or not, a pirate in the family could destroy Ushi’s dream! We can’t let that happen!”

The other men in the tavern shouted in agreement and leapt to their feet. Law stood, hand outstretched and tattooed fingers flexing eagerly, when the old man’s call to battle was cut short by a red-haired blur and a loud crack as his jaw was broken by a well-placed punch to the jaw.

Apparently surprised that the pirates were choosing to fight back instead of just allowing themselves to die at the hands of an angry mob, there was a moment where the other men stood still, which was more than enough time for Penguin to throw his knife in a precise arch, the blade easily piercing the dock worker’s remaining eyeball, completely blinding him. He screamed, prompting the barkeeper to throw a pint glass at Law before attempting to run. However, the thick glass was easily batted aside by Bepo before it could even get close to his captain’s head. In fact, his massive paw hit the glass so hard it flew across the room into the cook’s face, shattering on impact and turning the flesh into a bloody mess.

Before his crew could get their hands any dirtier, Law’s Room expanded from his, filling the tavern with a blue glow. “Takt.” Everyone who wasn’t a Heart Pirate, from patron to employee, levitated in the air as if lifted by invisible marionette strings.

“You idiots made a big mistake,” he said, voice eerily calm as he looked them over, gold eyes calculating. Assessing. The surgeon preparing the first cut. As if sensing this, Bepo handed him Kikoku, the Ōdachi’s long blade gleaming as he drew her from her sheath. “I don’t care about your beliefs. I don’t care about your reputation. I don’t care your pathetic little lives. What I do care about is my crew.”

“We’ll leave you alone!” the tavern maid screamed, terrified tears streaming down her cheeks. “I promise, we don’t have any problem with you pirates! You don’t have to do this!”

“Oh, but we do. See, you didn’t just threaten us,” Law stated, gesturing to the young men standing behind him, who glared at the crowd ominously. “You threatened Ikkaku. She’s a Heart Pirate now. That puts her under my protection. And you idiots threatened her. Mistreated her. And if this Marine brother of hers has a problem with her career choice, well, he can take it up with her captain; Trafalgar Law.”

Kikoku sliced through the air a dozen times in quick succession, the sound of screams filling the room as his victims were cut to pieces, legs, arms, and heads spinning around like balloons in zero gravity. He twirled his fingers, grinning as the body parts spun around like they were caught in a tornado. As much as Law wanted to relish their cries of horror and agony, he was a practical man, so he made another cut to neatly carve out their vocal cords, dumping them into his empty chowder bowl. It wouldn’t do for the screams to draw attention to the tavern, otherwise the Hearts really would have to sail off early, assuming they didn’t massacre the whole town.

“It’s tempting to kill you,” he mused, letting the old man’s head drop into his waiting palm. Curious, he studied the mangled jaw; Shachi had landed a good punch, and he could see the indents of his brass knuckles in the skin. Maybe he should get a pair with some raised letters for added insult. Or better, the jolly roger. His Man-At-Arms deserved some custom brass knuckles as a reward for stepping up when it counted for his crew. He’d look into it later. “But honestly, I prefer leaving you all like this. You’ve got a hospital further inland, right? I’ll leave you as a fun puzzle to solve. Put your doctors’ skills to the test putting you all back together. Oh, though they’ll be missing a few key pieces.”

Dropping the head, he raised his hand once more, crooking his finger to draw the torsos towards him, lining them up like soldiers before slamming his palm against each of them. “Mes.” Out popped their hearts, neatly stored in perfect cubes, still beating rapidly with fear. “I’m taking these. Might as well make a profit while I’m here, right? These’ll go for at least what Bowers-ya tried to swindle me out of with his shitty diagnostic. Something I’ll never have to worry about again now that I’ve Ikkaku as my mechanic.”

Satisfied, Law dispelled his Room, allowing the twitching body parts to fall to the floor like hail, scattered throughout the room in a grisly scene. He had no pity for whatever poor soul would discover the carnage, nor the doctors that would likely spend days attempting to put everyone back together properly. They were all likely no better, considering how easily this lot had fallen into the mob mentality against Ikkaku.

People were scum. Not that he hadn’t known that since he was a child. The world simply seemed to delight in proving him right.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Penguin, who strolled up to him, empty potato sack in hand. “Found this in the storage room,” he explained, already scooping up the hearts on the floor like they were apples Law had shaken loose from a tree. “Figured we shouldn’t walk through town with armfuls of organs. Those tend to draw attention.”

That earned him a nod of approval. A quartermaster was in charge of managing supplies and cargo, and that included his captain’s unique way of earning berri when they weren’t raiding ships or hunting for treasure. Penguin could be an idiot sometimes, but he took his job seriously. They all did.

Law really was quite lucky to have people like them. Made the world seem a little less scummy.

“I still don’t like it,” Shachi grumbled, kicking one of the arms that was trying to crawl away so he wouldn’t have to look Law in the eye, “but I guess Ikkaku can come with us. No one deserves to be stuck in a place like this.”

“I wasn’t asking,” Law retorted, though he was glad he finally had all three of his loyal, foolish friends back on his side. And hopefully the new girl would quickly find her place among them, just as his other Hearts had.

“Heh, personally, I’m starting to think she’ll fit right in,” Penguin said, slinging the bag over his shoulder with a grin. “She’s just as much of a weirdo misfit as the rest of us. Who better for a tentacle god’s spawn to sail with than an unlicensed doctor with creepy powers, a serial killer, an artic survivalist, some former gang members, a talking polar bear, and whatever the hell Shachi is?”

The redhead punched him in the arm. “Notice you didn’t put yourself in that list of weirdo freaks.”

“That’s because I’m the only one who isn’t a weirdo freak. Which in itself makes me a weirdo freak.”

While the two bickered, Bepo walked over to Law, smiling a bit. “I’m with Penguin,” he said softly. “She belongs with us. I think once she’s settled in, we’ll get along just fine.” Yes, there had been fear in the girl’s eyes when they met, but no hatred. No disdain. And once she’d calmed down, he’d seen other things, like curiosity and that gleam he’d seen in Law’s eyes when he thought he was being cute but didn’t want to admit it. And if his captain had taken to someone so quickly, he knew Ikkaku was good people. He had faith in Law’s judgement.

“If I am wrong about her, and she mistreats you, I’m ordering you to tell me,” Law warned, though he reached out to gently scratch behind the Mink’s ear, earning him a happy growl. He refused to make the same mistake twice, especially if it hurt his crew. But his gut told him he wouldn’t have to worry this time. Shachi would no doubt be watching her like a hawk, and hopefully Bepo would be more confident coming forward with his problems. His crew was risking it all to follow him on his quest—the least he could do was ensure they were happy.

He had a sudden, amusing vision of having the Polar Tang submerge while still in sight of the island so perhaps people would believe some ocean deity really had taken her. Then, assuming she was up for it, he’d ensure she got a bounty and a decent poster that could be mailed to Joras. Make the superstitious fools believe Ikkaku had risen from the depths to continue her god’s “mission” while at the same time causing some political trouble for her Marine brother.

Chuckling to himself, he slung an arm around Shachi’s shoulder, smirking a bit when the redhead grumbled that it wasn’t fair his younger friend was now taller than him. “Let’s get back to the Tang. You and Penguin need to set up Ikkaku’s new quarters, and Bepo’s gonna help me dig up a uniform in her size. Oh, and you can also clean and polish Hikigaeru-ya’s tools so they shine like new. He won’t be needing them anymore, and they’ll make a nice welcome gift from you to her.”

Shachi rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He knew of all the punishments his insubordination could have gotten him, this one was merely petty rather than cruel.

Satisfied, Law led Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo back out into the cold, thick fog of Joras, pausing only to flip around the sign hanging on the Big Daddy’s door from OPEN to CLOSED.

#Fic: Miscalculations and Misfits #Heart Pirates #Trafalgar D. Water Law #Trafalgar Law #op fanfic #one piece #shachi #ikkaku one piece #bepo #one piece fanfiction #ikkaku #op penguin #one piece penguin #penguin one piece #op ikkaku #one piece ikkaku #I come back from the dead to write early Heart Pirates fanfic #sorry I'm not around very much on this account but hopefully my readers will get some joy from this

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katwriteswitcherthings · 2 years

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Title: Vi Moxt Miirik (Chapter Four - Also on AO3)

Prompt: Wuv: A Special Performance

Pairing: Geralt & Jaskier

Rating: T

Warnings: None

A direct continuation of yesterday's prompt. In which we see that Jaskier is very wordy and also completely misconstruing Geralt's intentions.

Summary:

Our favorite lovable Bard is a little more than he let's Geralt know. Follow them through the years as he learns to let down his walls and show Geralt how beautiful he really is.

Chapter Four

Jaskier was nervous. Jaskier was never nervous before a performance.

This, however, was no normal performance.

He had never hated his profession more than he did right now, as he was leading Geralt into the Narakort. The good news was that everybody who was anybody was asleep (including his current patron, the Duke of Carreras who had hired him for tonight and tomorrow's performances) as they made their way through the relatively empty noontime halls.

He forced his hand steady as he unlocked the door and ushered in his Witcher, who had been silent since they left the cheap tavern across town.

Geralt stood there, just inside the doorway, looking every bit uncomfortable and out of place as he did the first time they had shared a room, two decades ago and more. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all.

"I'll have a bath drawn near the end of my performance, so don't startle the poor girls too badly." Jaskier started, keeping his voice light and airy, as he flitted about the room, hastily straightening up. He'd been here for almost a week now, at the whims of Duke Alexis to play for different meals, and for nights of dancing with his courtesans. Jaskier subtly as he could kept stealing glances at Geralt, who was still just standing by the door. He'd hoped that going back to routine would be for the best, but maybe...

Jaskier could feel his heart beating faster in his chest as he stepped in close to Geralt. He saw Geralt look up at him, finally meeting his eyes as they stood practically chest to chest. The question hung on his face, but Jaskier just took a deep breath. He saw Geralt's eyes dart down to his mouth and away, and he could only assume that he had licked his lips unconsciously; it was a terrible habit of his, but one that he had no hope of curbing.

"...I..." Jaskier lifted a hand to one of Geralt's armor's buckles, but he did not touch. Jaskier had seen the way Geralt had shrank away from touch, when they were first getting to know each other. He didn't want to ruin this. "...Can I help?" He asked, and Geralt did not look away. He nodded, slowly, hesitantly, after a moment.

This was something he'd never been allowed to do before except when Geralt was physically incapable of it.

Jaskier moved with quick precise movements, unbuckling each strap with careful precision. He knew the order the pieces came off in, and even how Geralt liked to stack the armor. He wasn't delicate, this was armor and it was difficult even for Geralt to get it off sometimes without a little bit of trouble, but there was a gentleness to his pulls and tugs that Jaskier knew Geralt did not receive from others.

In short order Jaskier was setting the last pieces into the pile, having stripped Geralt to nothing but the soft faded black shirt and well-worn leather pants he wore underneath it all. Jaskier would almost be willing to bet that he had done it nearly as fast as Geralt himself. When Geralt still did not say anything nor make any kind of effort to move, Jaskier just flitted over to one of the chairs sitting next to the window. He pulled it easily into the middle of the room.

"Now, sit on that chair please." He asked before going to dig through one of his bags for his comb and the little bag of hair products he had bought specifically for Geralt's hair. He heard Geralt stepping across the room and only turned back around when he was reasonably sure Geralt was already seated. Jaskier approached from his side, brandishing the comb even as he was very careful not to get into Geralt's blindspots.

"I'd like to get at your hair before it gets wet, and I know you won't wait on me to finish before you jump in." Jaskier asked again, starting to get a little concerned from the lack of any response from his Witcher. He would usually have gotten at least a few grunts of acknowledgement.

He honestly wasn't sure if it was better or worse that Geralt was just nodding his agreement to his questions. Jaskier did not want to push into Geralt's personal space; that is the exact reason his Witcher hadn't wanted Jaskier to travel with him any more. Or, that's the only logical conclusion Jaskier could come up with.

Jaskier had messed up royally by following him out to the Dragon Fangs. He'd nearly gotten himself and Geralt both slain by some deep sea creature with no name and drowned under the surf as it came back in. To make matters worse, the creature's blade had managed to slice into his legs and back.

Geralt had gotten tired of him and rescuing him, like everyone does, and was too good a man to tell Jaskier to his face. So he left, in that quiet unobtrusive way of his. And Jaskier let him. Because he was tired of forcing himself into other's company. It was the reason why he had gotten so fucking drunk after the Countess de Stael had dumped him; he never realized how much of a burden he was to those around him.

"Hrm?" Geralt's questioning hum broke Jaskier out of that awful line of thinking. He quickly blinked back the tears that were threatening to build. He couldn't afford them right now. That would drive Geralt away again for sure. "You can." Geralt granted and Jaskier got to work. He stood behind Geralt, humming idly as he worked the comb through his hair; gently breaking apart tangles with his fingers and comb, pulling twigs and other disgusting parts of things he didn't want to think too hard about. Geralt practically melted into the chair in front of him, the tension visibly draining as Jaskier took care of him.

Time lost all meaning as Jaskier worked patiently and carefully; it could have been minutes or he could have been standing behind his Witcher for hours. Finally though, he was able to run his fingers through it without catching. It would still need to be cleaned, of course, and the bath he'd send up later would take care of that. He'd shave his Witcher then as well.

"Alright there, dear heart?" Jaskier asked as he patted Geralt on the shoulder. The endearment just slipped out and Geralt either didn't hear it or chose not to draw attention to it because he just grumbled an agreement. "I'll be back in a few hours, then." Jaskier could hear an uptick in noise in the hallway and downstairs. The Duke would be summoning him shortly, without a doubt. Better to go ahead downstairs now, he thought as he set the comb and pouch on the little dresser before gathering up his lute. "I'll shave all that scruff off when I come back, if you'd like?"

"...I would..." Geralt answered, a little bit of wonder filling his voice. It sounded lovely. Jaskier smiled and gave him an elegant bow before heading out of his room. He had two more performances to give before he could run off with his Witcher again. But, oh, what a performance they would be! After all, he was performing for his favorite audience now.

#what about the bard #wuv the bard #jaskier #geralt of rivia #non human!jaskier #pining #still pining #they'll figure it out #soon #my fanfic #miscommunication

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skythesnake · 6 months

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I have a writing prompt for you I saw on insta : if you had the grumpy x sunshine ship confess their love how would you do it?

Ooooo, I love these. The story is old and the characters are even older, but I'm glad these two finally get a written confession scene even if I'm not writing their story anymore.

Sarafina was erractically flipping through the pages she stole from the stronghold when Sage burst through the door. They let out a yell and barreled into her, wrapping her in their arms and nearly knocking them both to the floor. Sara automatically pulled away and pushed Sage to arms length. Her sharp reply was cut off by the tears in her friend's eyes.

"Sage?" She asked. They didn't respond. Instead, they broke down sobbing.

"I thought you died Sara!" They stuttered through the sobs. She didn't know how to respond. Sage had been a ball of sunshine and happiness since the day she'd met them. In fact... had Sara ever seen them cry? The crying died down after a minute and the two stared at each other.

"Well... I didn't die. In fact, I came out of that place with my long lost twin and some very important information about the recent-"

"None of those were important when I thought I had lost you!" Sara narrowed her eyes at them. She didn't appreciate being interrupted by anyone, even if it was Sage.

"Sara, you are one of the most important people in my life. When I put on that stupid façade so that no one would know the secrects I hid, you were the only one who challenged me. You were the only one in this entire damned realm who cared enough to try to see past the smile and stupid jokes." Sage's voice held an intensity that Sara had never heard before. In all the years that she had known this adorably annoying person, she'd never seen Sage like this. The next words they said were so quiet that Sara nearly didn't hear them.

"I love you." She had to forcibly stop herself from stepping back.

"What?" Her tone - as usual - was much harsher than she meant it and Sage flinched.

"I never wanted to say anything. You've made it very clear that you see me as that annoying person who you only opened up to because I made you. But when I thought I lost you Sara? It nearly destroyed me." Sara did the worst possible thing she could have done. She didn't want to. She hated that this was her response to stressors like this. She laughed. She laughed because Sage had it all wrong and they didn't even know it. She laughed because if someone had told her a year ago that the amazingly beautiful, incredibly powerful Pathfinder would be confessing their love for a mere witch like her, she would have hexed them for their absurd lies. She doubled over laughing.

"I'm sorry, it's just. You like... well, me. Out of everyone you could have fallen for, you fell for a common elf girl? A common elf girl who no one likes at that. Out of everything that's happened to me recently, the hardest thing to wrap my head around is you being in love with someone like me. You are the most powerful, pretty, popular person I've ever met." Their mouth hung open and neither of us said anything for what felt like an eternity. Then,

"You think I'm pretty?" There was the Sage I knew. They winked playfully at me and I shot a glare at them. But my heart wasn't in it. They pulled me into another hug and I didn’t pull away this time. Instead, I hugged them back.

"In case you didn't get it, I love you too. But... is this the best time?" They pulled away and shot me a quizzical look. I glanced back at the papers on the table.

"I just... what if we really do end up losing each other? We're in the middle of a war and you are on the top of Python's - you know, the main power behind the enemy - his most wanted list. Is now the best time for a relationship?" They chewed at their lip as they considered my words.

"No. It's not the best time. But it is a time. And if we spend our last days together scared that we'll lose something, then we won't enjoy those days. Thinking that I lost you made me realize that I don't ever want to shy away from feelings just because I'm scared again. And besides" They flashed me another smile. "Python has been looking for his least favorite child for years now. What makes you think that I'm gonna let my deadbeat father catch me now?" I found myself smiling as I pressed a kiss to their forehead and rested my arm around their shoulders. They smiled back and together we walked back out of the building to give vital information to our side of the war.

#writing #original writing #queer writers #creative writing

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renaissanceclassics · 6 months

Text

Up from Slavery: Part 2

of 18 parts. Chapter I. A Slave Among Slaves

I was born a slave on a plantation in Franklin County, Virginia. I am not quite sure of the exact place or exact date of my birth, but at any rate I suspect I must have been born somewhere and at some time. As nearly as I have been able to learn, I was born near a cross-roads post-office called Hale's Ford, and the year was 1858 or 1859. I do not know the month or the day. The earliest impressions I can now recall are of the plantation and the slave quarters—the latter being the part of the plantation where the slaves had their cabins.

My life had its beginning in the midst of the most miserable, desolate, and discouraging surroundings. This was so, however, not because my owners were especially cruel, for they were not, as compared with many others. I was born in a typical log cabin, about fourteen by sixteen feet square. In this cabin I lived with my mother and a brother and sister till after the Civil War, when we were all declared free.

Of my ancestry I know almost nothing. In the slave quarters, and even later, I heard whispered conversations among the coloured people of the tortures which the slaves, including, no doubt, my ancestors on my mother's side, suffered in the middle passage of the slave ship while being conveyed from Africa to America. I have been unsuccessful in securing any information that would throw any accurate light upon the history of my family beyond my mother. She, I remember, had a half-brother and a half-sister. In the days of slavery not very much attention was given to family history and family records—that is, black family records. My mother, I suppose, attracted the attention of a purchaser who was afterward my owner and hers. Her addition to the slave family attracted about as much attention as the purchase of a new horse or cow. Of my father I know even less than of my mother. I do not even know his name. I have heard reports to the effect that he was a white man who lived on one of the near-by plantations. Whoever he was, I never heard of his taking the least interest in me or providing in any way for my rearing. But I do not find especial fault with him. He was simply another unfortunate victim of the institution which the Nation unhappily had engrafted upon it at that time.

The cabin was not only our living-place, but was also used as the kitchen for the plantation. My mother was the plantation cook. The cabin was without glass windows; it had only openings in the side which let in the light, and also the cold, chilly air of winter. There was a door to the cabin—that is, something that was called a door—but the uncertain hinges by which it was hung, and the large cracks in it, to say nothing of the fact that it was too small, made the room a very uncomfortable one. In addition to these openings there was, in the lower right-hand corner of the room, the "cat-hole,"—a contrivance which almost every mansion or cabin in Virginia possessed during the ante-bellum period. The "cat-hole" was a square opening, about seven by eight inches, provided for the purpose of letting the cat pass in and out of the house at will during the night. In the case of our particular cabin I could never understand the necessity for this convenience, since there were at least a half-dozen other places in the cabin that would have accommodated the cats. There was no wooden floor in our cabin, the naked earth being used as a floor. In the centre of the earthen floor there was a large, deep opening covered with boards, which was used as a place in which to store sweet potatoes during the winter. An impression of this potato-hole is very distinctly engraved upon my memory, because I recall that during the process of putting the potatoes in or taking them out I would often come into possession of one or two, which I roasted and thoroughly enjoyed. There was no cooking-stove on our plantation, and all the cooking for the whites and slaves my mother had to do over an open fireplace, mostly in pots and "skillets." While the poorly built cabin caused us to suffer with cold in the winter, the heat from the open fireplace in summer was equally trying.

The early years of my life, which were spent in the little cabin, were not very different from those of thousands of other slaves. My mother, of course, had little time in which to give attention to the training of her children during the day. She snatched a few moments for our care in the early morning before her work began, and at night after the day's work was done. One of my earliest recollections is that of my mother cooking a chicken late at night, and awakening her children for the purpose of feeding them. How or where she got it I do not know. I presume, however, it was procured from our owner's farm. Some people may call this theft. If such a thing were to happen now, I should condemn it as theft myself. But taking place at the time it did, and for the reason that it did, no one could ever make me believe that my mother was guilty of thieving. She was simply a victim of the system of slavery. I cannot remember having slept in a bed until after our family was declared free by the Emancipation Proclamation. Three children—John, my older brother, Amanda, my sister, and myself—had a pallet on the dirt floor, or, to be more correct, we slept in and on a bundle of filthy rags laid upon the dirt floor.

I was asked not long ago to tell something about the sports and pastimes that I engaged in during my youth. Until that question was asked it had never occurred to me that there was no period of my life that was devoted to play. From the time that I can remember anything, almost every day of my life had been occupied in some kind of labour; though I think I would now be a more useful man if I had had time for sports. During the period that I spent in slavery I was not large enough to be of much service, still I was occupied most of the time in cleaning the yards, carrying water to the men in the fields, or going to the mill to which I used to take the corn, once a week, to be ground. The mill was about three miles from the plantation. This work I always dreaded. The heavy bag of corn would be thrown across the back of the horse, and the corn divided about evenly on each side; but in some way, almost without exception, on these trips, the corn would so shift as to become unbalanced and would fall off the horse, and often I would fall with it. As I was not strong enough to reload the corn upon the horse, I would have to wait, sometimes for many hours, till a chance passer-by came along who would help me out of my trouble. The hours while waiting for some one were usually spent in crying. The time consumed in this way made me late in reaching the mill, and by the time I got my corn ground and reached home it would be far into the night. The road was a lonely one, and often led through dense forests. I was always frightened. The woods were said to be full of soldiers who had deserted from the army, and I had been told that the first thing a deserter did to a Negro boy when he found him alone was to cut off his ears. Besides, when I was late in getting home I knew I would always get a severe scolding or a flogging.

I had no schooling whatever while I was a slave, though I remember on several occasions I went as far as the schoolhouse door with one of my young mistresses to carry her books. The picture of several dozen boys and girls in a schoolroom engaged in study made a deep impression upon me, and I had the feeling that to get into a schoolhouse and study in this way would be about the same as getting into paradise.

So far as I can now recall, the first knowledge that I got of the fact that we were slaves, and that freedom of the slaves was being discussed, was early one morning before day, when I was awakened by my mother kneeling over her children and fervently praying that Lincoln and his armies might be successful, and that one day she and her children might be free. In this connection I have never been able to understand how the slaves throughout the South, completely ignorant as were the masses so far as books or newspapers were concerned, were able to keep themselves so accurately and completely informed about the great National questions that were agitating the country. From the time that Garrison, Lovejoy, and others began to agitate for freedom, the slaves throughout the South kept in close touch with the progress of the movement. Though I was a mere child during the preparation for the Civil War and during the war itself, I now recall the many late-at-night whispered discussions that I heard my mother and the other slaves on the plantation indulge in. These discussions showed that they understood the situation, and that they kept themselves informed of events by what was termed the "grape-vine" telegraph.

During the campaign when Lincoln was first a candidate for the Presidency, the slaves on our far-off plantation, miles from any railroad or large city or daily newspaper, knew what the issues involved were. When war was begun between the North and the South, every slave on our plantation felt and knew that, though other issues were discussed, the primal one was that of slavery. Even the most ignorant members of my race on the remote plantations felt in their hearts, with a certainty that admitted of no doubt, that the freedom of the slaves would be the one great result of the war, if the Northern armies conquered. Every success of the Federal armies and every defeat of the Confederate forces was watched with the keenest and most intense interest. Often the slaves got knowledge of the results of great battles before the white people received it. This news was usually gotten from the coloured man who was sent to the post-office for the mail. In our case the post-office was about three miles from the plantation, and the mail came once or twice a week. The man who was sent to the office would linger about the place long enough to get the drift of the conversation from the group of white people who naturally congregated there, after receiving their mail, to discuss the latest news. The mail-carrier on his way back to our master's house would as naturally retail the news that he had secured among the slaves, and in this way they often heard of important events before the white people at the "big house," as the master's house was called.

I cannot remember a single instance during my childhood or early boyhood when our entire family sat down to the table together, and God's blessing was asked, and the family ate a meal in a civilized manner. On the plantation in Virginia, and even later, meals were gotten by the children very much as dumb animals get theirs. It was a piece of bread here and a scrap of meat there. It was a cup of milk at one time and some potatoes at another. Sometimes a portion of our family would eat out of the skillet or pot, while some one else would eat from a tin plate held on the knees, and often using nothing but the hands with which to hold the food. When I had grown to sufficient size, I was required to go to the "big house" at meal-times to fan the flies from the table by means of a large set of paper fans operated by a pulley. Naturally much of the conversation of the white people turned upon the subject of freedom and the war, and I absorbed a good deal of it. I remember that at one time I saw two of my young mistresses and some lady visitors eating ginger-cakes, in the yard. At that time those cakes seemed to me to be absolutely the most tempting and desirable things that I had ever seen; and I then and there resolved that, if I ever got free, the height of my ambition would be reached if I could get to the point where I could secure and eat ginger-cakes in the way that I saw those ladies doing.

Of course as the war was prolonged the white people, in many cases, often found it difficult to secure food for themselves. I think the slaves felt the deprivation less than the whites, because the usual diet for slaves was corn bread and pork, and these could be raised on the plantation; but coffee, tea, sugar, and other articles which the whites had been accustomed to use could not be raised on the plantation, and the conditions brought about by the war frequently made it impossible to secure these things. The whites were often in great straits. Parched corn was used for coffee, and a kind of black molasses was used instead of sugar. Many times nothing was used to sweeten the so-called tea and coffee.

The first pair of shoes that I recall wearing were wooden ones. They had rough leather on the top, but the bottoms, which were about an inch thick, were of wood. When I walked they made a fearful noise, and besides this they were very inconvenient, since there was no yielding to the natural pressure of the foot. In wearing them one presented an exceedingly awkward appearance. The most trying ordeal that I was forced to endure as a slave boy, however, was the wearing of a flax shirt. In the portion of Virginia where I lived it was common to use flax as part of the clothing for the slaves. That part of the flax from which our clothing was made was largely the refuse, which of course was the cheapest and roughest part. I can scarcely imagine any torture, except, perhaps, the pulling of a tooth, that is equal to that caused by putting on a new flax shirt for the first time. It is almost equal to the feeling that one would experience if he had a dozen or more chestnut burrs, or a hundred small pin-points, in contact with his flesh. Even to this day I can recall accurately the tortures that I underwent when putting on one of these garments. The fact that my flesh was soft and tender added to the pain. But I had no choice. I had to wear the flax shirt or none; and had it been left to me to choose, I should have chosen to wear no covering. In connection with the flax shirt, my brother John, who is several years older than I am, performed one of the most generous acts that I ever heard of one slave relative doing for another. On several occasions when I was being forced to wear a new flax shirt, he generously agreed to put it on in my stead and wear it for several days, till it was "broken in." Until I had grown to be quite a youth this single garment was all that I wore.

One may get the idea, from what I have said, that there was bitter feeling toward the white people on the part of my race, because of the fact that most of the white population was away fighting in a war which would result in keeping the Negro in slavery if the South was successful. In the case of the slaves on our place this was not true, and it was not true of any large portion of the slave population in the South where the Negro was treated with anything like decency. During the Civil War one of my young masters was killed, and two were severely wounded. I recall the feeling of sorrow which existed among the slaves when they heard of the death of "Mars' Billy." It was no sham sorrow, but real. Some of the slaves had nursed "Mars' Billy"; others had played with him when he was a child. "Mars' Billy" had begged for mercy in the case of others when the overseer or master was thrashing them. The sorrow in the slave quarter was only second to that in the "big house." When the two young masters were brought home wounded, the sympathy of the slaves was shown in many ways. They were just as anxious to assist in the nursing as the family relatives of the wounded. Some of the slaves would even beg for the privilege of sitting up at night to nurse their wounded masters. This tenderness and sympathy on the part of those held in bondage was a result of their kindly and generous nature. In order to defend and protect the women and children who were left on the plantations when the white males went to war, the slaves would have laid down their lives. The slave who was selected to sleep in the "big house" during the absence of the males was considered to have the place of honour. Any one attempting to harm "young Mistress" or "old Mistress" during the night would have had to cross the dead body of the slave to do so. I do not know how many have noticed it, but I think that it will be found to be true that there are few instances, either in slavery or freedom, in which a member of my race has been known to betray a specific trust.

As a rule, not only did the members of my race entertain no feelings of bitterness against the whites before and during the war, but there are many instances of Negroes tenderly caring for their former masters and mistresses who for some reason have become poor and dependent since the war. I know of instances where the former masters of slaves have for years been supplied with money by their former slaves to keep them from suffering. I have known of still other cases in which the former slaves have assisted in the education of the descendants of their former owners. I know of a case on a large plantation in the South in which a young white man, the son of the former owner of the estate, has become so reduced in purse and self-control by reason of drink that he is a pitiable creature; and yet, notwithstanding the poverty of the coloured people themselves on this plantation, they have for years supplied this young white man with the necessities of life. One sends him a little coffee or sugar, another a little meat, and so on. Nothing that the coloured people possess is too good for the son of "old Mars' Tom," who will perhaps never be permitted to suffer while any remain on the place who knew directly or indirectly of "old Mars' Tom."

I have said that there are few instances of a member of my race betraying a specific trust. One of the best illustrations of this which I know of is in the case of an ex-slave from Virginia whom I met not long ago in a little town in the state of Ohio. I found that this man had made a contract with his master, two or three years previous to the Emancipation Proclamation, to the effect that the slave was to be permitted to buy himself, by paying so much per year for his body; and while he was paying for himself, he was to be permitted to labour where and for whom he pleased. Finding that he could secure better wages in Ohio, he went there. When freedom came, he was still in debt to his master some three hundred dollars. Notwithstanding that the Emancipation Proclamation freed him from any obligation to his master, this black man walked the greater portion of the distance back to where his old master lived in Virginia, and placed the last dollar, with interest, in his hands. In talking to me about this, the man told me that he knew that he did not have to pay the debt, but that he had given his word to the master, and his word he had never broken. He felt that he could not enjoy his freedom till he had fulfilled his promise.

From some things that I have said one may get the idea that some of the slaves did not want freedom. This is not true. I have never seen one who did not want to be free, or one who would return to slavery.

I pity from the bottom of my heart any nation or body of people that is so unfortunate as to get entangled in the net of slavery. I have long since ceased to cherish any spirit of bitterness against the Southern white people on account of the enslavement of my race. No one section of our country was wholly responsible for its introduction, and, besides, it was recognized and protected for years by the General Government. Having once got its tentacles fastened on to the economic and social life of the Republic, it was no easy matter for the country to relieve itself of the institution. Then, when we rid ourselves of prejudice, or racial feeling, and look facts in the face, we must acknowledge that, notwithstanding the cruelty and moral wrong of slavery, the ten million Negroes inhabiting this country, who themselves or whose ancestors went through the school of American slavery, are in a stronger and more hopeful condition, materially, intellectually, morally, and religiously, than is true of an equal number of black people in any other portion of the globe. This is so to such an extent that Negroes in this country, who themselves or whose forefathers went through the school of slavery, are constantly returning to Africa as missionaries to enlighten those who remained in the fatherland. This I say, not to justify slavery—on the other hand, I condemn it as an institution, as we all know that in America it was established for selfish and financial reasons, and not from a missionary motive—but to call attention to a fact, and to show how Providence so often uses men and institutions to accomplish a purpose. When persons ask me in these days how, in the midst of what sometimes seem hopelessly discouraging conditions, I can have such faith in the future of my race in this country, I remind them of the wilderness through which and out of which, a good Providence has already led us.

Ever since I have been old enough to think for myself, I have entertained the idea that, notwithstanding the cruel wrongs inflicted upon us, the black man got nearly as much out of slavery as the white man did. The hurtful influences of the institution were not by any means confined to the Negro. This was fully illustrated by the life upon our own plantation. The whole machinery of slavery was so constructed as to cause labour, as a rule, to be looked upon as a badge of degradation, of inferiority. Hence labour was something that both races on the slave plantation sought to escape. The slave system on our place, in a large measure, took the spirit of self-reliance and self-help out of the white people. My old master had many boys and girls, but not one, so far as I know, ever mastered a single trade or special line of productive industry. The girls were not taught to cook, sew, or to take care of the house. All of this was left to the slaves. The slaves, of course, had little personal interest in the life of the plantation, and their ignorance prevented them from learning how to do things in the most improved and thorough manner. As a result of the system, fences were out of repair, gates were hanging half off the hinges, doors creaked, window-panes were out, plastering had fallen but was not replaced, weeds grew in the yard. As a rule, there was food for whites and blacks, but inside the house, and on the dining-room table, there was wanting that delicacy and refinement of touch and finish which can make a home the most convenient, comfortable, and attractive place in the world. Withal there was a waste of food and other materials which was sad. When freedom came, the slaves were almost as well fitted to begin life anew as the master, except in the matter of book-learning and ownership of property. The slave owner and his sons had mastered no special industry. They unconsciously had imbibed the feeling that manual labour was not the proper thing for them. On the other hand, the slaves, in many cases, had mastered some handicraft, and none were ashamed, and few unwilling, to labour.

Finally the war closed, and the day of freedom came. It was a momentous and eventful day to all upon our plantation. We had been expecting it. Freedom was in the air, and had been for months. Deserting soldiers returning to their homes were to be seen every day. Others who had been discharged, or whose regiments had been paroled, were constantly passing near our place. The "grape-vine telegraph" was kept busy night and day. The news and mutterings of great events were swiftly carried from one plantation to another. In the fear of "Yankee" invasions, the silverware and other valuables were taken from the "big house," buried in the woods, and guarded by trusted slaves. Woe be to any one who would have attempted to disturb the buried treasure. The slaves would give the Yankee soldiers food, drink, clothing—anything but that which had been specifically intrusted to their care and honour. As the great day drew nearer, there was more singing in the slave quarters than usual. It was bolder, had more ring, and lasted later into the night. Most of the verses of the plantation songs had some reference to freedom. True, they had sung those same verses before, but they had been careful to explain that the "freedom" in these songs referred to the next world, and had no connection with life in this world. Now they gradually threw off the mask, and were not afraid to let it be known that the "freedom" in their songs meant freedom of the body in this world. The night before the eventful day, word was sent to the slave quarters to the effect that something unusual was going to take place at the "big house" the next morning. There was little, if any, sleep that night. All as excitement and expectancy. Early the next morning word was sent to all the slaves, old and young, to gather at the house. In company with my mother, brother, and sister, and a large number of other slaves, I went to the master's house. All of our master's family were either standing or seated on the veranda of the house, where they could see what was to take place and hear what was said. There was a feeling of deep interest, or perhaps sadness, on their faces, but not bitterness. As I now recall the impression they made upon me, they did not at the moment seem to be sad because of the loss of property, but rather because of parting with those whom they had reared and who were in many ways very close to them. The most distinct thing that I now recall in connection with the scene was that some man who seemed to be a stranger (a United States officer, I presume) made a little speech and then read a rather long paper—the Emancipation Proclamation, I think. After the reading we were told that we were all free, and could go when and where we pleased. My mother, who was standing by my side, leaned over and kissed her children, while tears of joy ran down her cheeks. She explained to us what it all meant, that this was the day for which she had been so long praying, but fearing that she would never live to see.

For some minutes there was great rejoicing, and thanksgiving, and wild scenes of ecstasy. But there was no feeling of bitterness. In fact, there was pity among the slaves for our former owners. The wild rejoicing on the part of the emancipated coloured people lasted but for a brief period, for I noticed that by the time they returned to their cabins there was a change in their feelings. The great responsibility of being free, of having charge of themselves, of having to think and plan for themselves and their children, seemed to take possession of them. It was very much like suddenly turning a youth of ten or twelve years out into the world to provide for himself. In a few hours the great questions with which the Anglo-Saxon race had been grappling for centuries had been thrown upon these people to be solved. These were the questions of a home, a living, the rearing of children, education, citizenship, and the establishment and support of churches. Was it any wonder that within a few hours the wild rejoicing ceased and a feeling of deep gloom seemed to pervade the slave quarters? To some it seemed that, now that they were in actual possession of it, freedom was a more serious thing than they had expected to find it. Some of the slaves were seventy or eighty years old; their best days were gone. They had no strength with which to earn a living in a strange place and among strange people, even if they had been sure where to find a new place of abode. To this class the problem seemed especially hard. Besides, deep down in their hearts there was a strange and peculiar attachment to "old Marster" and "old Missus," and to their children, which they found it hard to think of breaking off. With these they had spent in some cases nearly a half-century, and it was no light thing to think of parting. Gradually, one by one, stealthily at first, the older slaves began to wander from the slave quarters back to the "big house" to have a whispered conversation with their former owners as to the future.

Chapter I. A Slave Among Slaves

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addic-tea-d · 10 months

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The Monster They Raised

Once again I'm watching Daenerys Targaryen amvs despite never watching or reading Game of Thrones and now I'm inspired to write something in the middle of the night :D

Slight violence I guess? Brief mentions of dead people cause *war* but not enough to warrant the violence label I think.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"I think... I think it's time for you to stop now, my Lady."

I turned to glare at him, at all of them who circled our battle map in the war room. I looked at each of them in their eyes, trying to find the warmth we used to share not too long ago yet have nearly forgotten. All I saw was terror and pain and... so much anger.

"You can't continue doing this," he added. "You've gone too far. Enough is enough."

"Too far?" I couldn't help but laugh. "Do tell how 'far' I've gone. I've only continued what I've been doing all these years. Fighting for my throne which belongs to me."

"Too many innocents have died-"

"Too many innocents?" I couldn't help but gesture around us, slamming my hands onto the table that laid out our current situation. "Have you seen where we are? This is a war, my dear advisor, one which we have planned for and prepared for for years. Do you even know how many soldiers we have lost since we departed?"

"Do you not see the corpses of children - children - lying in the streets? If you continue like this, the only kingdom you will rule will be one of corpses!"

"Enough!"

If I had thought the room to be silent before, suddenly it was as if death had swept over us all. I couldn't even hear a person breathe.

"Everyone beside the advisor out. Now."

Before I had even finished speaking, the handful of people quickly shuffled out of the room and closed the door behind them, leaving the two of us. Neither of us spoke nor looked at each other. I could only take in the map of the city, taking in the carved markers of where our troops were stationed. Finally, I couldn't take it and looked up at him.

"Speak freely, advisor. I will not hold a word against you."

He met my eyes but didn't speak for a few moments more despite opening and closing his mouth countless times. But after a deep breath, he spoke.

"You've changed, my lady, so much from the person you once were."

"How have I changed?" My voice suddenly turned quiet. Not a whisper but much quieter than before. "What about me has become so different than before?"

He looked away, eyes shut tight as if reliving a horrible memory. "Ever since the execution of Lord Baron, you've been spilling more and more blood. You used to cry when innocent people were caught in the crossfire. The reason we set out on this path was to free the people from tyranny and restore you to your throne."

A cold chuckle escaped my lips as I shook my head in disbelief.

"I remember you used to call me soft when I cried. You told me to put myself together and hold my chin high. And we both know Lord Baron could not be kept alive."

His eyes shot to me, wide and frantic. "He surrendered!"

"Yet he would not swear to me," I sharply reminded him. "I gave him a choice. I will not keep around an enemy close enough to betray me at a moment's notice. Do you not remember how my father lost the crown in the first place? Do you not see our dwindling circle of trusted people as they betrayed us, betrayed me? How can I trust a stranger, an enemy, even if he did swear to me when even those I trusted most have stabbed a knife in my back?!"

His mouth hung open, unable to say a word knowing I spoke the truth. There were so many of us in the beginning, closer than friends, almost like family. But there were only a few of us left after losing some to war or betrayal and those of us left were no longer as close as before, worn down by years of fighting and always on edge. We continuously kept an eye over our shoulders in case we were stabbed in the back, figuratively and literally. I had the scars to prove it.

I wanted nothing more than to rip off my shirt and show him the scars, scars he was there to witness form as I bled in his arms.

"I would have been satisfied even if I never left that place." I could feel the tears stinging my eyes but I swallowed them down. "You all called it banishment but it was all I ever knew. All I've ever wanted was peace and quiet after I lost my husband to the sickness. I was alone but I kept going for the child in my belly."

I turned away from him, not wanting him to see the tears that managed to escape.

"He was so beautiful, my child. His laughter was like songs. He would have gone on to do many great things had he not also fallen to the sickness. He hadn't even learned to speak yet.

"Then you came along, telling me of thrones and war. You filled my head with righteousness of saving the people from tyranny. I saw you to be wise and trustful. I thought you to be a father to me. Oh, how I relied on you over these years. My mentor and trusted friend."

"My lady..."

I turned to face him, anger replacing the pain of remembering the past. He seemed shocked at my tears.

"You were the one who swore me on this pedestal. You told me to be ruthless. You told me to harden my heart. Who are you to hate me for becoming the person you raised me to be? I used to be too soft for your liking and now I'm too cruel for you to handle?!"

Unable to handle the anger built up in my body, I swipe my arms along the table, knocking all the pieces to the ground with loud clatters, slamming my fists onto the blank wood with my body hunched over, almost shaking.

"If you can't handle the monster I've become, then just get rid of me because I can't go back anymore. The loves of my life are dead, my friends have either been killed or betrayed me, and those who are left either no longer trust me, hate me, or fear me. There's nothing left for me but that throne and I will do what it takes to have it."

#word vomit #suddenly inspired #by #daenerys targaryen #and #game of thrones #I've actually never read or watched #inspired #short writing #not proofread #it's the middle of the night

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jamesbuchananxsteviegrant · 3 years

Text

I Pick the TV Show, Rogers Shuts His Cake-Hole | Bucky x Steve x Reader (Angst, Fluff)

Category: Angst, Fluff (Suggested) Age: 14+ Trigger Warnings: none, other than the standard explicit language Ship: Bucky x Steve x Reader Summary: Steve Snaps At Reader When He’s Stressed, Resulting In Her Being Very Upset Request: "can u write where steve/bucky is overwhelmed with something and when reader asks to help or is telling them to relax they snap at reader and reader is hurt which makes them feel really bad afterwards. thank you sm. i love ur writings. and this is anon right? is it alright if u dont post my response if its not anon? im sorry. thank you so much. ur blog always pictures great stucky imagines. 💗💗💗" Contains Spoilers for: N/A Word Count: 2,488

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A given, the super-soldier had been on nonstop missions for the last month or so, but she thought she was helping him feel better, not making him feel worse.

“Would you like anything to eat, Stevie? You’ve barely moved all day.” (Y/N)’s voice is small. Quiet.

She’s leaning through the door of his study where he’s sat putting together his mission reports from the last three or four missions he’s been out on.

He shakes his head but doesn’t even turn to look at her.

Sighing, the woman walks further into the room where her boyfriend is slouched over the desk.

“You gotta take a break, Stevie.” She whispers, resting her hands on his shoulders.

She notices the way they tense up, but he still remains silent.

His fingers continue to write up his report on the laptop.

“I’m worried about you, Stevie; talk to me.”

“I’m busy, (Y/N).”

“I know you are, baby, but you’ve gotta look after yourself too.” She attempts, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. He pulls away.

The woman furrows her brows.

“Steve, please, you’ve got to-”

“(Y/N), just stop!”

The shout is sudden and it makes her flinch back away from the man as he turns to face her.

“I’m fine, alright?! I don’t need you babying me all the time!”

She doesn’t respond for a second, surprised at her lover’s outburst.

He says nothing more, simply turns back to the laptop and continues typing away.

“Steve, look how stressed you are. Can you please just-”

“STOP! Okay?! Just stop! Leave me the fuck alone while I finish these neverending mission reports. For once in your life can you just understand that not everything is about you?!”

(Y/N) swears that being shot in the heart wouldn’t hurt half as much as the words that just came out of the man’s mouth.

Her mouth opens and closes as if searching for the right words to say, but that hurt.

Is she really that bad? Is that the truth behind all of this? That she’s clingy? Thinks everything is about her? That was never her intention. (Y/N) is well aware of how important being an Avenger is. Hell, she is an Avenger, for Christ’s sakes.

She says nothing more and leaves the room.

She can’t even decide if she feels sad. No. She’s not sad, she’s not angry, she’s not… anything.

Numb.

Naturally, her feet lead her to their room. Steve’s room. They all basically share the super soldier’s abode since they all got together, but right now she doesn’t dare open the door.

Doing a full one-eighty spin, (Y/N) takes herself back to a place she barely touches anymore. Her room.

It’s pretty empty. Most of her clothes are in Steve’s room, in her own walk-in wardrobe. Her bed is perfectly made from the last time she slept in here - maybe a year ago?

The woman walks around her bed and straight onto her bedroom balcony, overlooking the lake at the back of the compound, and stays there. For three-hours. Until Bucky comes looking for her.

He came home from his mission about thirty-minutes ago only to find their shared room of Steve’s empty. He searched just about everywhere, completely clueless.

“FRIDAY, where’s (Y/N) and Steve?” He finally gives in.

“Captain Rogers is in study five, and Agent (L/N) is in her private quarters.”

Now that makes the brunet furrow his brows.

Why would (Y/N) be in her room and not his or Steve’s?

He prioritises finding (Y/N) first, knowing Steve will be writing up mission reports, no doubt.

Despite them being together for over six-years now, he hesitates when reaching for the handle of her bedroom door. Instead, the man opts to knock.

No answer.

“(Y/N)?” Nothing. “Doll, it’s me; can I come in?” Nothing.

Bucky tries the door handle and finds it unlocked, yet still hesitates.

“Baby?” He calls out. Again, nothing.

He’s cautious now. Scared.

Her room looks as untouched as the last time he saw it, which was a few months back when she was after one of her plushies.

“(Y/N)?”

It’s when he feels the chill of the midnight winds ruffle his hair that he realises her balcony doors aren’t fully closed.

Striding straight over, his eyes widen at the sight of his girlfriend curled up in the corner of the outdoor area, crying.

“(Y/N), baby, hey, what’s wrong?!”

Bucky immediately drops to his knees in front of the woman, reaching for her hands and gently tugging them away from her tear-stained face.

“(Y/N), doll, look at me.” His voice is gentle. Soothing.

She does almost instantly but her sadness stays.

“What happened, baby? Are you hurt?”

The fear and sincerity in his voice is enough to prompt the woman to shake her head. Yes, she’s hurting emotionally, but he needs confirmation that she’s not dying.

The woman immediately sees the relief take over his features, but he’s still concerned.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

Her eyes stray away from his, not wanting to tell him what’s got her so upset.

“Hey, no, look at me, baby,” He whispers, hand lightly grasping at her chin to raise her face back up to his. “What’s got you so worked up, (Y/N)?”

Another shake of her head as she tries to escape her lover’s hold.

“Baby, please, you’re scaring me.”

Her face contorts into something close to heartbreak as she wants nothing more than to reassure the man in front of her.

“It’s okay, Buck.”

“It’s not okay! Doll, I haven’t seen you cry since Stevie nearly died on that mission in Ohio like two-years-ago! Talk to me.”

She takes a deep breath and wipes her face of the shedding tears.

“Do you want me to get Stevie?”

The question is innocent and makes sense, but her eyes widen and she shakes her head desperately.

“No! No, please, no.”

That truly makes the super soldier concerned.

“Doll, please can you tell me what’s happened?”

Never in the last eight-years that Bucky and (Y/N) have known each other has she been so reluctant to see Steve.

Another sob escapes her and it’s breaking his heart.

“Baby, please.”

“Steve got mad at me, alright?!” She manages an attempted shout. “I just wanted him to look after himself.”

“What happened? What did Steve do?”

He’s concerned. Massively.

“I was trying to get him to eat; he hasn’t eaten properly in so long. He’s so overworked and he’s hung up on all these mission reports. He told me that not everything was about me - shouted at me; told me to stop.” She’s whimpering and sniffling again now. “Please get him to eat something, James.”

That last sentence is the one that crushes him. She’s upset, yeah, but above all that, she’s still worried about the blond super soldier.

“Come on, baby, let’s go to our room and get into bed, yeah? I’ll go and speak to Stevie.”

Her eyes meet his and she looks scared, but the ocean blue gaze that he returns makes her bound to his every command.

The woman nods.

“Okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

With the help of the Winter Soldier, (Y/N) manages to stand up, letting him lead her out of her private room and into their shared one of Steve’s.

“Here, let’s get you into your PJs, yeah?”

He doesn’t leave room for negotiation as he helps his girlfriend strip out of her casual dress and into one of his oversized t-shirts.

“You get snuggled up in bed, doll. I’m going to go and get Stevie, okay?”

He hates how she looks nervous at the mention of their other lover’s name.

“He loves you more than words can describe, baby girl, I promise you. He shouldn’t have lashed out at you, I’m gonna talk to him, okay?”

A hesitant nod and forced smile is enough for now.

“I’ll be back shortly, I promise.” He leans over and gives the woman a kiss on the lips, leaving her with one of her favourite shows playing on the TV.

“Bucky,” Her choked up voice calls out just before he leaves.

The man turns from his place in the doorway.

“I love you.”

The smile that takes over his expression is contagious.

“I love you too, baby girl. More than anything.”

Despite his reassurance to the woman, he’s pretty damn pissed for a number of reasons about Steve losing his cool with their girl. Reason number one being, how dare he? Reason number two being, he knows better than to overwork, yet here we are.

Bucky doesn’t even knock once he approaches the glass doors of the study where Steve is sat typing away on the laptop.

The blond doesn’t even glance up to see who entered. He barely heard the door open which enrages Bucky further.

The brunet slams the lid of the laptop shut without saying a word, prompting Steve’s head to shoot up, glaring daggers at whoever has interrupted him.

“What the fuck, James?!”

That makes Bucky really get annoyed.

“Are you serious right now, Rogers?”

“I’m in the middle of about seven different mission reports, Buck, I’ve gotta finish them.” The man sighs, going to open the lid of the PC once more, only for Bucky to hold it down. “James, seriously,”

“No. What you need to do is explain to me why our girlfriend has been crying for the last God-knows how many hours?”

That makes Steve snap back to reality.

“What? (Y/N) has been crying? Is she okay?”

Bucky literally rolls his eyes at that.

“Are you fucking serious, Steve?” He repeats, Steve looking confused, expression contorting as he realises that his boyfriend is seriously angry at him.

“Bucky, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

The Winter Soldier’s head lolls back as he groans in frustration.

“You seriously have no idea?” He asks, rhetorically, watching Steve look almost scared. “Do you often shout at your girlfriend and forget it happened?”

Cap’s eyes widen at that, and he visibly gulps.

“What?”

“She came in here to make sure you were looking after yourself, which you weren’t, by the way, and you tell her that not everything is about her?! Are you fucking stupid, Steve?!”

He remembers it all too well in that moment, turning his head down to avoid the frustrated glare of his male lover.

“No. No, you don’t get to look away from me. Look at me.” Bucky demands, watching the blond super soldier reluctantly do so. “I come home from my own exhausting mission, search for (Y/N) for thirty-minutes, and find her crying her God-damn heart out on the balcony of HER room; not our room, Steve, no. Her room.”

Steve’s heart shatters and his eyes widen once more.

(Y/N) hates staying in her room. She’d always be in his or Bucky’s without a doubt.

“I- Buck-”

Bucky shakes his head and stands back upright as Steve is lost for words.

“I’m not mad at you, Steve. I get it, you know? You’ve been overworking for the last month, I know you’re stressed, but fuck, baby, you can’t hurt her like that. Do you know how much my heart fucking shattered when I saw her curled up in the corner of her own God-damn balcony?! It tore me apart. She hasn’t cried since you nearly fuckin-” Bucky chokes on his own word as he walks away from his lover.

“I’m sorry! Buck, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have let Fury send me on that many missions, I- I should’ve said no. I’m sorry.” Steve attempts, standing up and following the brunet, turning him around to face him once more.

“It’s not me you need to be apologising to, Stevie.”

Captain America nods and leans up to press a kiss to the man’s lips.

“I’m sorry, James.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and forces a smile.

“I forgive you. Of course I forgive you, I know you didn’t mean it, but I swear to God, if you hurt her again…”

Steve is already shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t dream of either of you getting hurt. Where is she?”

“Our room.”

He nods and begins heading toward the woman to which he owes more than he can give.

The door is half ajar when Steve gets there, he slowly opens it to reveal his girlfriend in all her glory, curled up under their Captain America themed duvet - which Sam bought the trio as a joke last Christmas. Her face is clear-as-day red from her earlier upset, and it breaks his heart.

The man knocks gently on the day as if not to startle the poor girl.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He offers a solemn smile when she turns to see who’s there.

He hates the way he can see her hesitation to speak to him as opposed to her usual squeal of his name, arms opening wide to welcome him into her cuddle-fest.

“Hi.” She manages, forcing her own smile.

There’s silence floating between them, the only sound being Jensen Ackles, in his role of Dean Winchester, talking a load of nonsense about pie on the TV that’s streaming Supernatural.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Steve manages, taking a step toward the bed. “Nothing can excuse the way I yelled at you, and I’m so sorry for that, but, sweetheart, trust me when I say I didn’t mean it. I was so stupidly stressed, and I should never have let it get to that point.”

She nods, truly believing his words, but it still hurt.

The blond sits down on the edge of the bed, not daring to cuddle his girlfriend until she’s comfortable.

“I love you so much, (Y/N) (L/N).”

A bigger smile taints her lips at that.

“I love you too, Steven.” Her voice is barely a whisper but he hears it clear as day.

“Can I hold you?”

(Y/N) smiles and shakes her head as if he was being silly.

“You never need to ask permission for that, Stevie. No matter what.”

With another sad smile, he pulls the woman into his arms and holds her tighter than ever before.

“I’m so sorry, my love.”

“I forgive you, but no more missions for a while.” She whispers.

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky’s leaning against the doorframe, watching the interaction. He took a detour to Tony’s office and made sure to give the billionaire a piece of his mind about making sure Fury didn’t have Steve on any missions for a long time.

“Is this the last episode?” The brunet speaks up, stripping himself of his clothes as he enters their room properly.

“Yeah.” (Y/N) nods.

“I still think we should watch Vampire Diaries instead.” Steve chuckles, mirroring Bucky’s actions.

“I pick the TV show, Rogers shuts his cake-hole.” (Y/N) teases, mocking a line from Supernatural and snuggling herself in the middle of the bed, sandwiched between the two super soldiers - where she belongs. “I love you both.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

“Love you always, doll.”

TAGS

Stucky x Reader Only Tag List: polarbearnamedpanda | @marvelous-glims

SFW Only Tag List: @piper-koko-barnes-rogers

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

a thing or two (m.)

tutor geto has a thing or two to teach you.

cw. oral sex (f and m receiving), lube, unprotected sex, sweet! geto, halloween setting so priest! geto, age gap, slight body worship, fingering, overall romantic sex, kitchen counter sex, dirty talk, lots of kissing, mutual masturbation, intoxication, pwp, unedited as always eep

note. for my right boob @sixeyesgojo my first ever geto fic and i hope it’s to your liking...writing this with a frozen arm and numb fingers weeeee, i almost became a geto simp.

Halloween festivals have never felt livelier in the city. People dressed up in various outfits milled about the events place, your drink nearly sloshing on the ground the more they bumped into you.

Bass and music boosted from the large speakers smack in the middle of the grounds, and everyone danced to their heart’s content, you and your friends a huge inclusion to the crowd.

You don’t really go out to parties that much. Hell, you don’t even drink.

But after numerous encouragements from your friends, you’re now dressed in she-devil skin-tight black dress, black lipstick, and red horns placed on your head. It’s hard not to feel confident and sexy – the kick of the liquor is settling down as well – when you’ve got human eyes, vampiric red eyes, ghoul sclera lenses and even a fucking Cyclops eye turning your way.

You’re excitedly grinding against your friends, the whoops and cheers mixing in with slurred mumbles of the lyrics.

The night is young and so are you.

This may have been your third or fourth drink, you don’t really know, but probably some way along the second since you’re not really hammered. You’re somewhat sober enough to feel large hands gripping your hips, a protest of not tonight, Dracula about to leave your lips when you come face to face with a face you never thought you would see here.

Clad in a long black cloak, a silver cross hung around his neck, his dark hair in a neat bun and black earrings a perfect completion to the hauntingly stunning look he pulled off, your throat ran dry.

“Sir Geto?”

“Hey, it’s you,” your tutor spoke up with unmasked interest, his curious eyes trailing down your revealing outfit…the way your dress hugged all your curves and how your breasts are practically popping from your top. Geto smirked, “And please, we’re not studying at home, just call me Geto. Surprised to see you here.”

“Well, it’s Halloween, would be a shame if I didn’t go out,” laughing nervously, you found yourself acting out of habit as you twirled a strand of hair to your finger. “I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you’d have work.”

“Nah, the boys and I are free for tonight,” he answered with a grin, nodding to where his friends – a really tall white haired man and a bored blond who looks like he’s ready to leave anytime – dancing and drinking at the corner. Geto must’ve felt your unnecessary prolonged stare at his attractive friends for he’s pulling you closer again, not sexually or even hidden with motives, but because it’s hard to hear each other through the music.

“Hey, do you wanna dance?” Nodding, you waved goodbye to your friends. They didn’t really notice considering they’re way too hammered and occupied dancing with others. Surely, they wouldn’t notice your little escapade.

Geto’s warm hands leads you somewhere out the bar and into the open grounds, where cups are already littered on the grass and people are drunkenly shaking their ass to everything and everyone.

It’s a ridiculous sight that has both you and Geto laughing.

“So…you liking the festival so far?”

“It’s…pretty fun,” you admit and loop your arms around him with ease. Normally, you wouldn’t be doing this.

He may not be your actual professor or teacher, but he’s still a family friend of your friend who’s been tutoring you for the past semester and is basically the only reason you can endure math. Granted, he’s always been deadly attractive, but you’ve never really been affected by it, not up this close, anyway.

But you’re most definitely closer now, and Geto’s forehead is pressed against yours as he sways you both side to side.

“My first time drinking and I feel so light,” Geto hums at your slightly intoxicated eyes, his grin turning gummy when your curious hands trail up his robes to experimentally grope his pecs.

“First time, huh? We’ll I’ll be here to hold you up if you feel dizzy.”

“Thanks,” you beamed up at him. Geto, albeit being at least seven years older, feels so youthful that you’re not really bothered by the age gap. Again, it could be the alcohol, but he feels so warm, so nice, that you lean back to survey him this time around. “You look great, by the way, though you’re dressed up as…”

Geto rolls his eyes before you can finish.

“I know, the priest costume looks weird, but we found it pretty funny so here I am.”

“No, no, it looks great,” you wave off, your smile freezing on your face when a nostalgic song starts to blast through the speakers. In your head, in your head! “Zombies by the Cranberries. A classic.”

Geto’s hands snake around your waist before they hover over your ass, his eyes mischievous and slanted as he mumbles, “It’s a great song to dance with a perfect little devil with.”

You don’t know who leaned it first.

Not like it mattered, when Geto tasted strongly of strawberry flavored bear and cheesecake. An odd combination, even more so with his spicy cologne, but it only has you pulling you in closer to him.

He’s such a great kisser. Legs turned to jelly, knees weakening and lips locking in rhythm to the beat – it feels like it’s just the two of you in that moment. Geto smiles through the kiss, tongue prodding your lips to open before you’re gasping for air. Your attempt to regain air back to your lungs is cut off when Geto leans closer to slip his tongue inside your mouth, greedily sucking on it until you’re moaning in his arms.

Soon enough, you’re both holding on to each other to the point you might as well be fucking openly.

Geto is cupping your cheeks as he excitedly kisses you, his smiles intoxicating and the bubbling laughter he lets out much like music to your ears.

“Yo, Geto, are you sure about this? She looks like a minor, dude,” one of his friends speak up, and that’s when you see his white haired friend – who has extremely azure eyes that you can’t tell whether it’s contacts or not – crossing his arms on his chest, though his amused smirk said otherwise.

If anything, the guy is only suggestive, wiggling his brows up and down as he puts his fingers into a V shape, his tongue poked out.

You snort at his gestures, and just like how Geto did before, he turns your cheeks towards him again, his gaze feral and wanting. “I assure you,” Geto murmurs over your lips, “She’s not.” Eyes wide and all attention to him the way he wants, Geto’s smirk is cunning before he leans down to capture your lips in another heated kiss.

Stumbling back to his apartment turned out to be a lot more challenging. With the urgent need to relieve each other of this burning in your cores, you and Geto have made out everywhere, hands kneading each other’s skin until you fall awkwardly at his bed.

There’s no time to worry about it though. Not when he’s eagerly unbuttoning his robe, his dark hair messed up and a few strands shielding his eyes that glimmer when you struggle to squeeze out of your dress. He helps you get it off before he hovers over you, knocking your knee with his to make you fall open. You’re left completely vulnerable and naked under his predatory gaze, large hands smoothing over your skin – from your ankle, up to your thighs and the dips in your body, before he settles right above your breasts, nipples hard between his fingers.

“Fuck, you look stunning,” he praises, biting his lip at the same time you drunkenly giggle. “Bet you taste perfect too.”

“Only one way to find out, then.”

“Come here,” Get growls and rips off your panties, your half-hearted protests completely missed in his haze of pleasure. Upon seeing you bare for him, wet and pussy lips glistening, Geto groans deep in his chest. “Such a pretty pussy. Shoulda fucked you a long time ago when we were alone for so many hours,” curling his upper lip, he begins to settle down between your legs, peering up from you under his lashes as he teasingly blows air over your core that has you shivering. “I could’ve taught you so many more things, don’t you think?”

“Careful there, father, wouldn’t want you to sin tonight.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to do that to me tonight, sweetheart,” he laughs evilly, joined by you afterwards at the little teasings. “You’re a little devil and I’m nothing but a mortal man. Of course I’d fall to the consequences of my sinful desires.”

Sitting up with your elbows resting on the mattress, you tug him by his cross, hard. “Here’s your one way ticket to hell then,” you dared, letting your legs spread wider and pushing his head down. Geto inhales sharply when the tip of his nose nudges your clit, drawing out a shuddered moan from you. “Feast for yourself.”

“Hmm, you’re a whole ass fucking meal, baby,” he marveled, giving little teasing bites on your inner thigh that you’re sure would leave a mark. “I’m going to devour you.”

Geto isn’t kidding.

You clearly undermined him, or perhaps you knew all along what he could do and you just wanted to bring out this side for him, because riled up Geto who was excitedly sucking on your clit like a man starved had you seeing stars in the whites of his ceiling.

“Hnggrr, G-Geto, fuck!”

“Yeah, you like that?” he chuckles from your pussy, the vibrations of it sending electricity jolting down deep to your core. Geto begins to trail down, his tongue playfully poking your entrance as slick coats his muscle and cheeks, licking and kissing everywhere that you actually find it hard to keep quiet. Narrowing your eyes at him – and you wished you didn’t, because you’ve never seen a more lewd sight before – you slap your palm over your mouth, the only thing keeping your legs apart the strong grip he had on you. “Don’t be shy, babe. We’ve got the whole place to ourselves tonight. Scream as loud as you want. Let the neighbors hear how good I’m fucking you.”

“Y-you’re so lewd, fuck-” you announce, but the sounds of your squelching being sucked by his eager, unquenched self is even more lewd. “Geto, I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Geto just pushes you over the edge, ignoring the way your thighs are shaking and you’re pushing him away once the overstimulation becomes too much to handle. You giggle when he sighs at not being able to eat you out anymore, but his glistening face is a lot more arousing than entertaining. Struggling to catch your breath, Geto smirks at how easily you’ve come undone, groaning as he wipes your juices with his thumb and licking his lips afterwards. He bends forward as he stares at you the whole while, slipping his digit through your mouth in a silent demand for you to taste yourself.

Never pulling away from holding his gaze, you wrap your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue and sucking just hard enough that he absentmindedly humps the air.

“You okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Shut up. You literally ate my soul out,” you stare at the trail of saliva connected to his finger, the image so fucking dirty yet arousing that you begin to clench around nothing. Meanwhile, Geto’s biceps flex as he runs his hand through his hair, and that’s when you see he’s so rock hard that he probably feels uncomfortable. “Do you want me to…?”

“You don’t have to. It’s okay.”

“Seriously, Geto, you’re declining an offer to get your dick sucked?”

“I mean, I’m not against it but-” you shove his boxers down and immediately take him into your mouth, no foreplay at all, and your teeth graze his dick as you do so. Geto’s hips sutter forward in a knee-jerk movement he almost falls down on his bed, but catches him on the last second to not crush you. He ogled at your cock-stuffed mouth and puffy cheeks, his breaths sharp from the pleasure he’s receiving. “Sh-shit, not so fast, baby. I don’t want to cum like this.”

“Hmm.”

Staring up at him innocently, Geto closes his eyes and runs his finger through your locks, slightly bucking his hips deeper into your mouth. Even in his euphoria, Geto is careful to let you go at your own pace, though his self-controls falter a little bit the moment you fondle his balls.

His eyes snap open. Teeth bared and belly flexing, you keep rendering him frozen with how you take him in deeper until his hair is tickling your nose, cheeks sucked in and hollow as you slide his cock along your warm walls. “Oh, fuck, you’re really a fucking devil, right there, yeah,” he hisses, taking a handful of your hair so he could get a better look at you. “Well, who would’ve thought? Always seemingly so innocent. Who knew you could suck dick like this?”

“You like it,” you tease while pumping his shaft up and down and giving kitten licks to the head, where Geto smirks at you.

“Yeah, I love it,” he corrects, his cock twitching on your dainty hands that look so tiny in comparison to his girth. “But no way I’m coming tonight anywhere than your pussy,” Geto pushes you back down on the bed where he showers you with heated kisses, wrists pinned under his grip and hickeys left everywhere on your neck. His sticky fingers trail down your skin to finger you, the sensation too much, too good, too wrong, and that thought alone that’s been drumming into you as the intoxication fades away make you both pause.

“I-I…”

“It’s okay, just relax,” he reassures, withdrawing his fingers that can’t get past your pussy that has now tightened the minute he touched you down there. Geto sends you another approving glance before he pumps his shaft and up down, aligning it with your entrance and kissing you flat on the lips the whole time. “I’ll put it in, okay? Tell me if anything hurts.”

“Hey, hey. Breathe,” he cups your cheek while looking deep into your eyes, though that slight pinch on his forehead let you know he experienced the same discomfort.

Geto must’ve realized both of you aren’t getting anywhere tonight because soon, he’s falling back to this side, eyeing your pussy with longing and lust before his arm lands over his face. “Well… Maybe not tonight.”

“Geto,” you begin, turning on your side in hopes of easing the pained frown on his face. “I’m so sorry…”

“Hey, it’s fine, really, don’t worry about it,” he blinks at you and rests back on the pillows, his hand already wrapped around his hard, throbbing cock where the tip is leaking. “Let me just relieve myself. I’m so fucking hard it hurts.”

You don’t know what you’re expecting, but definitely not for him to jack off right beside you. You watch; perplexed, awed, undeniably aroused as he holds your gaze, his jaw clenched and accentuating his sharp features more from the movement. Geto is absolutely shameless as he fucks his own fist that is cum-stained, beads of white pre-cum coating his incredibly thick shaft with thick veins.

It’s so wrong yet so fucking hot that you can’t help but do the same.

Sneaking your fingers down to your kitty, you rub your clit and bite your lip, pleasuring yourself the same way he does. Geto exhales in wonder from watching you masturbate, his muscles ripping and arm so buff, you wonder why he hasn’t folded you in half yet.

Oh right, you’re too anxious to ever have his dick inside you, yet you’re shamelessly rubbing circles in your clit. Spreading your pussy lips open, you slide your fingers down and collect your juices, gasping right beside Geto who’s angrily pumping his dick.

Geto suddenly leans back on his calves to stare at your pussy and jacks off, catching some cum from your pussy lips which makes you giggle in surprise, but he comes back to fisting himself. The eroticism of your actions pushed you both to the edge until the both of you came, his dick softening and his cum shooting all over your thighs.

“God, you’re so sexy, I could stare at you all day.”

“That was…”

“Yeah,” he breathes out in stuttered chuckles, throwing a leg over the bed as he stands to hs full naked, cum-stained glory. “Hey, I’ll clean you up. Do you want something to drink or eat? A glass of water, maybe?”

“That sounds great.”

Geto comes back with a shirt of a rock festival and wipes his cum from your stomach, then folds it to wipe your arousal off. He helps you settle inside his oversized shirt that is warm, comfortable, and smells so faintly of him that the exhaustion of tonight’s events is rapidly coming to you.

“Come here. It’s pretty cold tonight,” You gladly cuddle with him, your head laid on top of his buff arm while his free one is wrapped around you.“How’s your studies going? Do you understand math a little better now?”

Despite his innocent queries, his actions are everything but.

His hands are trailing up to slowly to stroke your nipples. Geto thumbs at the hardened peaks before he softly squeezes your breast, letting his hand repeatedly graze over your sensitive nipples as if it’s second nature to him. It turns you on so bad, but you’re exhausted and you’re rubbing your thighs together, sighing and quietly moaning every now and then.

“A-a little, I guess,” you answer, a little bit distracted. He’s modest and no longer aroused (judging from his state inside his boxers), so you try not to start something you’re not prepared to finish. “Hey, Geto, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you more of an ass or boobs person?”

Geto handles the question with ease. “As long as the proportions are right, I like both, and I like yours,” he grins, cupping your boobs in his hand as if to prove a point. Then, he tugs your (his) shirt up just enough to reveal the erect nipples, his eyes narrowed before he sucks lightly on the sides. You gasp at his ministrations but voice no complaints, and neither does he when your nails dig into his arm. “Yours are so beautiful.”

“Flatterer,” you playfully punch his chest, but Geto only chuckles and brings you closer to his chest, his lips warm on top of your forehead. “I’m pretty sleepy…”

“Then sleep. I’ll still be here tomorrow, don’t worry. You’re free to stay as long as you like.”

The next day, Geto is already gone from the room. You’re not worried because one) this is a one night stand with your hot tutor, you’re not supposed to be attached, and two) the smell of pancakes wafting from the slight crack of his door is very much present.

Stretching your arms out, you pad to where Geto is busy flipping pancakes. He’s already dressed comfortably in a white shirt and dark sweats, turning around to smile at you at the sound of your footsteps. “There’s a naked girl in my room? Wow.”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen everything last night.”

Geto doesn’t need to gesture you to come closer to him, you’re already too pulled in by his presence that you’re wrapping an arm around his neck while he kisses you flat on the lips.

“Doesn’t mean I get tired of it,” he teases, lips lingering above yours before he drifts down the crook your neck, voice deep and husky as he greets, “’Morning. Can you pass me the syrup?”

Nodding, you bend over the counter. The syrup is located in the bottom of the pantry and you’re halfway to opening the glass panels when you hear Geto shut off the stove. His hands come to grip on your hips as he grinds his hard cock on your exposed bottom, his lips hovering over your ear. “On second thought…I think I’ll have my meal a little differently.”

“G-Geto.”

“I bought lube while you were asleep. Maybe it’ll make you loosen a little bit?” Geto touches you down there, his eyes glimmering with mischief once he witnesses for himself your state. “You’re already wet babe,” he announces, proudly presenting his wet fingers right before your eyes. “Wait for me.”

Nervously, you fix your shirt and hair as Geto runs to the living room where he pulls out a bottle of lube and discards his shirt somewhere. He wastes no time in lifting you up to the counter where dives between your legs, and you’re tugging at his hair as his tongue eagerly licks your wetness.

“Geto, ah, stop playing around!”

“Wasn’t planning on it, babe, I’m a little impatient,” Geto stands up again to kiss you for a quick second before he grabs the lube and spreads it all over his cock, his fingers experimentally prying your hole open to see if you could take it.

Once his digit slides in with ease, you moan the same time he grins wickedly.

You think he’ll go straight for it but Geto takes his time with you, making sure you’re properly stretched open before he splits you in his half with his cock. He’s really thick, after all, and your tight little cunt needs to adjust well to make sure you enjoy it rather than be in pain. Once satisfied, you pull Geto by the collar and wrap one leg around his waist to bring him closer, gasping when his tip slides between your pussy lips.

Both of you are too lost in a daze of lust to be able to speak properly. One nod from you is all he needs before he’s slipping inside your warm walls, his head falling into the juncture of your neck where he keeps grunting on how good you feel around him.

You can’t help but scratch down his back the deeper he drives his hips, the mere movement of his cock sliding against the bumpy drags of your tissues making you fall apart.

Not a minute later, your shirt is bunched up under your breasts, free for Geto to suck on while he fucks the living daylights out of you. His knuckles turn white from how hard he’s gripping the counter, another hand planted right under your knee to keep your leg spread open for him. You’re moaning openly under him, strings of fuck yeah right there and shit, Geto, you feel so good filling in the early morning air that would’ve been innocent if there weren’t such loud sounds of skin slapping against skin mixing with the chirping birds.

You squeeze Geto’s ass as he plants himself deeper inside you, setting a pace that is both mind-numbing and exhilarating.

It’s hard to believe that just days ago, you’re in the exact same place sharing waffles with him, only you’re studying math and he’s wearing glasses; professional, formal, polite – the exact opposite of the sinful things he’s doing to you right now.

Geto’s grunts are almost choked in your ear as you come hard, walls convulsing and spasming around his thick length.

He immediately pulls out his hard cock to come all over your thighs instead, watching the way your hole clenches around nothing while his slippery dick is smeared and repeatedly slapping your inner thighs. You keep gasping as you ride out your orgasm, thighs burning from the uncomfortable stretch of having one leg propped by him and the other heel planted on the counters. Geto’s moans are deep, sinful, and inherently masculine the whole while he shoots his deep all over you, creating a mess both on the counter and on your skin.

It takes a while before you both regain your breath and composure, with Geto awkwardly pulling his pants up as he laughs along with you. “So…breakfast?”

“Yeah,” you giggled, “I’m famished.”

Safe to say, that morning was spent with not much enough breakfast, but definitely lots of kissing and even more fucking around. Everything Geto said the first time you met him had been proven true – he did have a thing or two to teach you.

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bush-viper-cutie · 3 years

Text

New Student, New Friend

Pairing: Young Snape x french!reader

Word Count: 2,751

Request: #1 “Hi! Can I request a young!Snape x french!reader where the reader's transferred from beauxbatons and isn't fluent in english/has a thick accent? Love your work!!”

#2 “Hi hi! Love your work! Can I request Young Snape x French reader? Sorry if I dont speak well, english is not my first language <3”

Warnings: none

A/N: Hello everyone again! :D I combined both requests because they are pretty similar so enjoy!

Posted: 9/10/21

Masterlist

---

~*~*~ = time skip

(Y/n) = first name

(L/n) = last name

~*~*~

~*~*~ = POV change

---

~*~*~*~*~ *~

There was a strange static in the air this morning, one Severus couldn't quite place. He brushed his long hair back behind his ear and listened in to the hushed whispers of passing classmates.

"...Beauxbaton, can you believe it?"

"Nice to not know someone for a change - "

Beauxbaton? Severus gathered they were talking about a new teacher perhaps? Although it wasn't that odd to get new professors in the middle of the school year. Just last year the Dark Arts professor was promptly replaced when he went mad after a spell backfired on him; In fact, every year there was a new one.

It was strange that the new teacher should be a transfer from another school such as Beauxbaton... Maybe they were fired and no one else wanted them, must be down on their luck. And if that is the case, how very fitting for Hogwarts, home of inadequacy.

Severus, still deep in his bitter thoughts, almost tripped over the shoe that had extended out in front of him. He caught himself and whirled around angrily. "Watch it!" he growled, straightening.

James Potter smirked. "Oh, Snivellus. Didn't see you there.” His Gryffindor friends snickered behind him, bolstering his ego. "I'd get along to class if I were you. Wouldn't want to be late on your first day back."

Severus grit his teeth and did everything he could to not growl his displeasure of being in so close proximity to the pinnacle of mediocrity that was Potter. It had been a week after winter holidays had ended but after another nearly fatal encounter with Black, he’d been forced to stay in the Hospital Wing un-zippering his mouth and a couple of fingers before being allowed back.

The memory of the experience made his knees weak, making keeping his riled demeanor that much harder. He was lucky he'd had the foresight to cover his nose before Black unleashed his hex. It wasn’t a quick run from the lake to the nurse, and he certainly wouldn't have made it with his nostrils zippered together as well.

"Mind your own business, Potter." Severus spat out his name like rotten apples, furrowing his brows in an attempt to seem more threatening however he could not help but notice the hallways getting emptier by the second. He knew better than to get caught alone with Potter.

He laughed and turned to catch up with his friends. Severus watched him go, only relaxing his shoulders after Potter had rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight. The hall was empty.

He turned and continued down the corridor when his hearing perked at the scuff of loud footsteps. He whirled around, hand plunging into his robes, but it was too late.

"Levipeds!"

Severus' head snapped back as his feet whipped out from under him. He hung limp in the air, watching his wand roll away on the stone floor. His hair nearly touched the dirty ground.

James laughed. "Welcome back, Snivellus!"

He closed his eyes as his boiling blood rushed to his head. He was hanging upside down in the air, alone in the empty corridor. He couldn't scream for help, he'd just get yelled at for disturbing lessons, and he couldn't reach his wand - as long as his limbs might be, his wand might as well have rolled down into the dungeons. He'd have to hang there until classes were over or one of the portraits decided to help him out for once.

"Eh... Excuse moi?" A quiet voice wrapped in a thick French accent broke the silence.

His eyes flew open and stared straight into the face of a beautiful but completely unfamiliar student. She bent down low to meet his eyes. She must be the mystery person from Beauxbaton, the new student as it turned out.

This was worse, so much worse than being caught by anyone else in the school - except for a very select few. Severus looked around in search of anything that might make this all less embarrassing.

"You need help, no?" Her voice was more confident this time, laced with a hint of friendly amusement.

"Uhh..." He met her eyes and hoped this new student would excuse his red face to be due to all his blood rushing down.

She straightened and pointed behind him. "This is your wand? I'll give to you?" His wand was in his hand with one quick flick of her own.

His eyebrows automatically shot up at her use of nonverbal spells. "Thanks," he tried swallowing but ended up coughing. He covered his mouth and performed the counter-hex, dropping to the floor with a grunt.

She rushed forward, looping her arm through his and helping him up to his feet. She laughed and dusted the dirt off his back while he stood paralyzed.

"Better, no?" she smiled, facing him a foot from his stiff figure. "I'm new seventh-year transfer... And you?"

For a moment his mouth opened but no words flew out, and then all at once words poured out as fast as if under a curse. "I'm - oh - yes you're from Beauxbaton, right? Yeah - er - yes, seventh-year as well."

Her hands flew up and she waved them in front of herself with a laugh. "Slow please!" she laughed again. "One more time?"

Severus gave an awkward laugh that matched hers and nodded. "I'm also a seventh-year."

"Oh!" she held out a paper and pointed down to the class he was late for. "I am so lost! You help me now? Oui?"

She smiled up at him and his heart nearly leaped out of his mouth. He nodded quickly, "Yes - er - oui, I'll help you... Actually, that's my class too..."

"Oh!" Her smile widened, "I need partner for the class! You have one?"

For once Severus thanked his unlucky past self. His time in the hospital wing all week meant everyone would be already partnered up. "No, I don't..." his face flushed red again and he cleared his throat, looking away. "We could be partners?"

"Bon! Lead the way, partner," she motioned for him to lead, keeping a very close pace next to him as they walked. "I am lucky to find you, did not know anyone yet. You are only third person met!"

He gave her a small smile as they walked together, but he knew it wouldn't take long for her to find out his status at the school. Being a new student, he was sure she’d make all the friends she could ever want by the end of the day. Then she'd reconsider her luck after everyone tells her all about her lab partner, 'Snivellus'.

~*~*~

They made it to class late. The professor looked up and frowned, ready to tell them off when Severus' new ‘friend’ spoke up.

"Excuse us, Professor, I am new and got lost."

The professor sighed and waved his hand, giving her a pass. "And I see you're back Mr. Snape. Get to your seats, you'll both be working together - get moving."

The two back seats were empty and Severus was glad to be away from the front for once. His new partner set down her things, and as she bent to pick up her books Severus caught a glimpse of Sirius Black glaring at him from the front, a seat behind where Severus had been sitting the last term. Black had anticipated his return and was obviously annoyed with the change in seating.

"What may I call you, Mr. Snape?" The new student whispered, giving him her full attention despite the lesson continuing.

"S-Severus." He looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to him. He'd die of embarrassment if they started teasing him in front of her for daring to open his mouth. "And you?"

She smiled. "Severus Snape? That's a beautiful name." She looked back up to make sure their conversation was still private and turned back. She reached up and gripped his tie, pulling him towards her. She leaned and held a hand to his ear, moving her lips inches from his ear. "(Y/n) (L/n)."

Severus’ heart beat faster than it ever had before. The immense drumming in his ears almost made it impossible to hear her whispers. When she released him, he turned to look at her, feeling his face heat up either from proximity or from her warm breath flowing over his face. "(Y/n)... Good to know." He swallowed and realized he had not moved since she had pulled him towards her. He would have felt like an idiot if she wasn’t looking at him so playfully.

"You gonna kiss her, Snivellus?"

Severus pulled back quickly and clenched his jaw at Black.

The professor smacked Sirius' head with a roll of parchment. "Mr. Black, disturb my class again and I'll assign you an essay for every night this week." Severus smirked. "And you, Mr. Snape," the Professor smacked the board, creating a puff of chalk, "- will hand me your notes tomorrow before class - legible notes, might I add."

Severus nodded as the class snickered and turned away from (Y/n). The rest of the lesson went by agonizingly slow. Severus counted the seconds until he could run away to the library, away from taunting eyes. He hated himself for turning so red, but he hated Black even more for making him the fool.

~*~*~

You could tell the boy, 'Mr. Black', had embarrassed Severus greatly. He was hunched over his parchment, focused completely on the professor's words, and never once looking back up at you.

You read the words on the board but soon your eyes ventured down to look at the tall lanky boy currently trying to visibly shrink in his seat. The moment shared between you both still played on your mind. He had beautiful long lashes and deep dark eyes to match. It had been fun to see him so flustered over you, but the guilt of what you'd caused sat heavily on your chest. That boy had noted Severus had been in the perfect position to kiss her, which... did she kind of wish he had?... Just to see - for just a curious taste.

You didn't know what specifically was so alluring about Severus, but you could imagine yourself wrapped in his arms, pulling on his long hair, biting his lips, and hearing that deep voice of his purring for more. Something about him - or maybe everything about him - made you wonder how gentle those hands of his could be.

The bells rang in the distance, marking the end of the lesson. You packed your things and sat waiting for Severus to do the same. He was slow at first and then after a quick flick of his eyes up to you hurried along.

You stood at the same time and motioned for the door, scrambling to translate your thoughts into English. "Lunch now? We can sit together?"

People filed out of the class, which Severus watched closely before turning back to her and answering. "Look, this isn't the only time… I'm not someone to hang out with unless you like hexes and spells to be thrown in your direction."

You could see the hurt in his eyes, the way his brows furrowed, and his down-turned eyes filled with tears that wouldn't fall. Before you could bring yourself to respond, he sighed shakily, giving you pause.

"It's not your fault... I'll show you down and then I suggest you forget about being friends." He pulled open the door and held it open for you without meeting your eyes.

What could you say to him? You stepped out into the corridor, contemplating how to phrase what you were thinking when laughter pulled your focus.

"I see you've met our Snivellus." The stupid boy, Black, came forward talking to you but keeping his attention on Severus. He had long curly hair nearly as long as Severus' and was taller, with proud shoulders held in a loose demeanor that still made him seem important in some way. His eyes shifted to you, "Hope he didn't drip any snot on you while he tried for a kiss."

You scoffed, “You do not understand what you saw. Please leave us alone.”

“Love, maybe you’re not understanding me. For your own safety I insist YOU leave this sniffling slime alone.” Black took a step closer.

Severus pulled out his wand but held it low, at the ready in an instant. "I’m done with your games. Unlike you, you nitwitted tower troll, I have places to be." He finally glanced your way, "Excuse me," and made to leave.

Black blocked his way, laughing at the now pointed wand in Severus’ hand. "Go ahead, I’ll be glad if you finally get expelled for using wands in the corridors. Mine's not even on me."

You eyed the smirk on his face and the tiny shift of his hand towards his trousers pocket. Was that a lie then? Whatever the case, you had enough of this game too. "My friend, Severus, is showing me to lunch. We are going now." You stepped between Severus and Black, giving the taller boy an annoyed look.

"I’m telling you, be careful," Black chuckled. "He might try to kiss you again if you’re too nice."

You paused and stepped back, looking up at Severus, whose eyes were fixed on Black, staring daggers into him. You bit your lip and chuckled the same way Black had, finding a different kind of amusement than him in this situation. "I hope he will."

Severus' head snapped to you, his cheeks slowly going a light shade of pink all over.

Black made a disgusted sound and a show of his fake nausea. “Darling, I don’t think I understood you correctly. Check your dictionary and if that’s not the problem maybe your eyes.”

This boy was really getting on your nerves now. If you’d been back at Beauxbaton you’d’ve already hexed him into a soggy pile of starter yeast, baked him into the perfect Pain au Levain, and chucked him out the tallest tower window. “Move it,” you made sure your French accent coated the word heavily.

Severus’ hand wrapped around your arm, pulling you back. He kept his wand and eyes trained on Black but spoke to you. “Go down to lunch. I’ll stay here to have the chat Black so desperately wants to have with me.” He looked up again, “Let her leave.”

Black smiled, “That’s fine. Been meaning to ask how your winter holiday was after I last saw you.”

You turned to Severus, ready to protest when the door to the classroom opened, cutting Black off. You all stood very still and awkward, hoping to hide the atmospheric hostility that had been created.

The Professor locked the door with a flick of his wand and looked at everyone with concern. "Off to lunch, no need wandering the corridors. Now." He ushered everyone down the stairs, walking close behind in equal silence.

You reached the floor second to last, after Black and then Severus, and pulled on Severus' arm the second your Professor had turned towards the staff room. You kept your hand on him to make sure he didn’t decide to leave before you could talk to him. Before Black could step towards you to continue the ‘conversation’, other Gryffindor students pulled him towards a small crowd gathering across the floor. Whatever it was seemed to be of higher interest and he left with only single backwards glance.

You both watched him go dissolve into the rowdy group and suddenly the air around you shifted. Severus turned instantly, searching your eyes with an intensity you could almost feel. You blushed and slid your hand down his sleeve and lingered on his bare hand. Neither of you said a word but the electricity connecting your eyes and the comfortable silence that enveloped you both spoke volumes. "We could eat together, no?"

His eyes settled on your hand still on his until you let go. "Oui," he whispered with a smile pulling at his lips. “Lunch then.”

As you both walked on, he slowly crept closer with every step, making your shoulders brush against his arm. His pinky tickled the skin on your wrist, making you cough to hide a giggle as you entered the Great Hall. Your eyes flickered up at his and you smiled, seeing a gentle blush and an even gentler smile on his face.

~*~*~*~*~ *~

Masterlist

—-

General taglist:

@setsuna-meiou31

@severuslovebot

@bionic-otp

—–

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meetmymouth · 3 years

Note

ooh I think #7 and #17 from the blurb list would fit very well together! if you want!

THANK YOU LINDS <3<3

prompt list here, send a number!!

#7 If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle

#17 Sleeping in the same bed for the first time

THIS IS 3K IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF SO PLEASE REBLOG LMAOOOOOO!!!!!

"This is my room," comes a gruff voice behind you as you keep looking out the window, taking in the greenery and the beautiful ocean.

See, you knew he would be here.

You knew, because Harry and Mitch were attached at the hip, and you didn't mind. You didn't mind seeing your ex every time you were invited to hang out with MitchandSarah & co, except when said ex decided to be an evil arsehole.

Perhaps, calling him an "ex" was weird, seeing how your time alone only consisted of you both getting high, mostly naked as he whispered the filthiest things in your ear and promised to make you feel good, be the best you've ever had. Other than that, though, he was an insufferable bastard. Since you never hung out with the man without your friends around–getting rat-arsed and high... and the activities that followed aside–, you didn't know if he was always this annoying.

He seemed to be getting along just fine with the others, especially Sarah and the other girls, so you had no problems scratching off the "women hater" off your list. And you can't ever recall him being this insufferable while you both were fucking which was, in his case, miserable. So, it was definitely annoying. You weren't that interested in him to think that he was being mean because he was secretly in love with you. That was a myth, a pathetic myth, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't steep that low. He was just an arse, full stop.

You turn around with an eye-roll, and within seeing his face, you nearly clench your fists like a ten-year-old. "Do you live here?" You ask, hoping the boring expression on your face is also detectable in your tone.

It's certainly not a surprise when Harry scoffs.

"I don't, but I picked this room first. Since, you know," he looks around, and walks further into the room, finally stopping at the feet of the bed. "You were late. As per."

"Oh fuck off. This isn't summer camp. Besides, I don't see any of your shit around. The room was empty when I arrived."

"If you bothered to look inside the wardrobe..."

Seriously, you find yourself thinking, how the fuck did you ever end up with this man. Naked.

There's a commotion downstairs, so you both turn to the door, but much to your dismay, there's no one coming to check up on you and hopefully, save you from Harry Styles' pathetic gob.

You turn towards the window again, eyes squinting briefly at the last bits of sunshine that's glinting from between the branches.

"Well. You shouldn't have left then. You weren't here when I arrived."

Harry shakes his head, and you swear you can see his nostrils flaring if you look carefully. Though, you just watch him with a smug smile on your face as he walks to the wardrobe and pulls open the white doors. True to his word, his clothes are there, perfectly folded, and for a moment you feel a pang of guilt before you look back up at his face and see the furrowed eyebrows.

"See. My clothes. I'm sure Sarah will sort it out for you, find you another room or summat."

"There's only three bedrooms. Can't sleep with a pregnant woman and her boyfriend, can I?"

"What about Rachel and David? Aren't you best friend's with her?"

"Harry, you're ridiculous. Just–" you wipe the sweat off of your forehead, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter each passing minute. "–just sleep on the sofa. This is my first vacation this year. You go on holidays every week or so. Let us commoners have this."

"Oh, please. Didn't you have a girls weekend getaway or whatever the fuck in Soho Farmhouse two weeks ago?"

You can't help the scoff that leaves your mouth, and a raised eyebrow follows. "How do you know about that?"

"Because," he rolls his eyes, and slams the wardrobe shut. "You post seven hundred stories every day."

"You're a stalker."

"You sleep on the sofa."

You smirk, noticing how he avoided your previous statement.

To be fair, you hated posting on your story. Though, knowing Harry followed you on Instagram made posting on there fun, and seeing his username on the list of who watched your stories pop up at the very top every single time whenever you posted a story almost made you let out a mingy little laugh and rub your hands together, and scream "gotcha!".

"I won't."

"You're getting on my nerves."

"What a coincidence," you ignore the stare he's sending your way and walk towards your carry on, and start taking the contents out one by one, laying everything on the bed.

He watches with a scowl on his face, arms crossed across his chest, and a satisfied smile paints your features as you take out the toiletries bag next.

"Are you seriously unpacking right now?" Harry cranes his neck so he can see better. He looks ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room with arms crossed, but you refrain from saying anything.

In fact, you don't even answer him. Perhaps, you find yourself thinking, it was silly to unpack your underwear first. It wasn't as if you brought super "sexy" shit or lace everything. You can definitely feel his gaze watching your every movement as you take everything out carefully and place them on top of each other. With most of your underwear in hand, you get on one knee in front of the bedside table and open the drawer, placing everything inside and it's surprising how he hasn't claimed the bedside table yet.

"Look," he sighs. "I'll talk to Sarah, maybe you can sleep with her and Mitch–"

"–don't be stupid we're not making them sleep with other people because you can't be a gentleman and sleep on the sofa."

"Oh for fuck's sake," he growls, and you finally look at him, eyebrows raised in hopes of making him feel as stupid as he sounds right now. Unfortunately, though, he continues, "Okay, damn it, I'll sleep on the floor."

Fool.

"Common sense, Harry. Always pick sofa. No matter what."

"Were you born to make my life a living hell?"

"Look," you sit on the bed, and look around. "This is boring me to death. I'm sleeping on the bed. If you shut your gob, you can sleep with me on the bed."

Harry lets out an obnoxious laugh. "Just admit I was here first and you didn't bother checking the–"

"Yes, I didn't and what about it? I'm here now, aren't I? I'm on the bed, babes. Anyway," you get on your feet, and with one last look at him, you start walking towards the door. "I'll see you in a bit. I guess."

You both manage to avoid each other as much as you can throughout the day, and really, it wasn't that hard considering the good company of your friends, good food and good alcohol. You mainly helped Sarah and Rachel in the kitchen as the men lounged on the sun loungers, Mitch handling the grill and David helping you guys with the drinks that came in and out of the house pretty quickly with the way you lot consumed them like water.

You spend the night eating, laughing and drinking, sometimes singing along to whatever song played on David's fancy Bluetooth speaker, and everyone begins ushering inside with full bellies and most of them–except the very pregnant Sarah–with a tipsy smile on their faces.

You leave before Harry though, leaving him smoking his last cigarette by the pool while you run up the stairs and into the room, closing the door behind you. You quickly get rid of the romper and get your favourite pyjamas on, eyes searching for the orange makeup bag so you can take off the remaining makeup before bed. You knew it was silly not to do your night routine, but you still zip the bag closed with a sad expression on your face, not wanting to see your toner and night cream any more than you needed to as you throw it on the floor next to your bags. It's pathetic really, how determined you are to get in the bed before Harry can that you forego your whole routine and stick to some cotton pads. Though, plugging your charger and getting between the cool sheets make you forget all about it as you let out a sigh, and unlock your phone to do your nightly scroll before falling asleep.

As you double tap on a selfie, the door opens, and you hear him scoff, again. You keep scrolling though, and try to sneak a few glances at him as he makes a beeline for the wardrobe, and to your surprise, begins to undress. You try to stay calm, and not to think about how domestic this whole thing seems; being in the same room as him as he gets ready for bed.

Right, getting ready for bed.

You keep your eyes on your phone as his clothes hit the floor one by one, and when you look up briefly, he's got a pair of joggers on, and he's throwing the clothes he had on in the wardrobe.

He turns around, and find your gaze, and he rolls his eyes.

"I knew you'd be in bed, here, as soon as I heard someone running. Forgot you were a literal five-year-old," he mutters under his breath, loud enough so you can still hear him. "I'm not sleeping on the sofa."

"I love how you're basically arguing with yourself."

"Like I said, I'm not sleeping on the sofa. I didn't come all the way to sleep on a bloody sofa."

"Suit yourself. I guess we're sharing. Unless," you lock your phone, and place it on the bedside table. "You want to share," you shrug, adjusting your pillow and sigh at the cool fabric against your hot cheeks.

You can feel him thinking, the wheels turning in his head, and you finally hear the floorboards creek underneath his feet as he walks closer to the bed, and pushes the sheets off of you. The whole thing.

You blink in surprise. "Stop it, dude! What the fuck."

"I'm getting in! Fuck's sake, be quiet."

"You did that just to annoy me."

You're both quiet for a minute, Harry taking his rings off and then comes his socks, and he finally copies you, laying on his back on the bed. He covers the both of you, though you know it's not intentional since he couldn't do it without covering his own body with the duvet, and then he lets out a strangled sigh.

"The bed's too small."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"What?" He turns his face to you, and perhaps it's the first time he's looking at you– really looking.

His brows are furrowed, and lips turned downwards in a pout.

"I'm taking the piss, Harry. I know you're not calling me fat."

"Good," he says, though his voice isn't exactly soft. "I wouldn't."

"Good."

Silence.

It's unbearable.

Despite the hot weather, you feel yourself shiver, and you wish you were the only one in bed so you could do the whole burrito technique with the duvet. Alas... you stay where you are. You both do.

A dog barks in the distance, the high-pitched bark coming through the open window, and you can feel Harry breathing too fast beside you. You want to shout at him, tell him to fuck off and... not breathe too fast, though it sounds a bit too rude even for you, so you stay silent and wait for the dog to pipe the fuck down.

You try to turn on your side, because you could never see yourself fall asleep laying on your back like a vampire, but you almost fall, not anticipating the tiny space you've got going on. It's bad, and you know you're not going to get a good sleep. So, you find yourself contemplating about getting up and sleeping on the sofa because honestly, fuck him.

Harry shuffles next to you, presumably trying to find a good position to sleep in himself, but he lets out a groan and it startles you.

"What's wrong with you!"

"The bed's too fucking small."

"We've established that."

He sniffs, hands clenching the sheets around his body. "I don't sleep on my back. My back hurts."

You don't say anything, hoping for him to just get up and leave, go sleep on the sofa. He doesn't, though. It's another fifteen minutes before you let out another sigh, trying to get comfortable on the bed, and Harry copies you. You both turn on your sides, facing each other and Harry groans when your knee makes contact with his thigh, making you cringe in embarrassment. A quiet sorry leaves your mouth and he shakes his head, then turns the other way, facing the door.

"Fuck," he spits after a minute. "If we both want to fit, we'll have to cuddle."

"Cuddle? Fuck no."

"Just," he turns to you again, but the bed is too small for you both so his knees touch yours. "Just come closer. Either that, or go sleep on the sofa."

"Why don't you–"

"You're so stubborn! Come closer, I won't eat you or fall in love with you. Fuck."

You groan, but oblige for some reason, feeling your heart beginning to beat faster for some ridiculous reason.

It's been a long time, you find yourself trying to convince your heart. It's been a long, long time since you've been this close to a human being. Too long since you've cuddled with someone, so obviously you were going to feel a little excited, and weird. Yes, definitely weird.

You get closer and he lifts up his arm, you both sharing a look before you roll your eyes and place your hand on his wrist, placing it on your hip. He's quiet, eyes searching yours, and the crease between his brows are gone, and you want to laugh, because who knew it only took your skin against his to wipe that stupid grimace off of his face.

"I still think you're annoying," Harry mumbles, clearly sleepy. His hold on your hip becomes tighter as his thumb strokes your skin over the fabric.

"I know. Just shut up and sleep."

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles concept #concepts #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #babyurthendofjune #ask

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thefanficmonster · 4 years

Text

Love For The Faceless

Corpse Husband x Youtuber!Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Y/N is a YouTube gamer who has recently gained a much larger following thanks to the streams she does with her friends. Naturally, considering her faceless and bodiless nature, people are starting to get curious about her. When she finally follows her friend Corpse’s example, a lot more than her hands is revealed.

Requested by anon, you know who you are 😉 Thank you so much for placing a request and hope this fic fulfills the expectations you have for it.

“Hey!“ I greet the lobby as I finally hop into the Discord call after quickly saying ‘hi‘ to my audience.

I’ve been a YouTuber for four years now and I’ve only recently started streaming, encouraged to do so by my best friend Rae. She’s the one who got me in multiplayer games such as Among Us and Phasmophobia which led me to meet her amazing gaming squad that consists of some of the most famous names on the platform. They are all wonderful people and I will forever be in Rae’s debt for introducing me to them. However, becoming friends with Felix, Sean and the rest of the team brought not only a more fulfilled life, but also a small boost in following. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t small. It was overwhelming, terrifying even.

My YouTube channel had a little over a million subscribers at the start of quarantine and now....now it’s closer to three million. Speaking of three million, I’m about to reach it any day now and it’s really hard to believe. I’m a gaming youtuber and I’ve never considered changing my genre despite expecting to not get any attention whatsoever, with all the big names on the platform. I was convinced not even as many as a hundred people would stumble across my videos and now here we are.

My OG subscribers are very supportive of my sudden growth and are defending me when my newer fans ask for a face reveal or whatnot. While we’re on that topic I might have to mention that not even my YouTube friends, and that includes Rae have seen my face. I’ve been faceless and bodiless for the entirety of my time on social media. Some claim I do it to grab more attention or for dramatic effect, but the reason is beyond that. I’m not shallow. Actually, shallow people are the reason I don’t show my face. I’ve never been the prettiest, but my middle school bully thought that I wasn’t lacking self confidence enough. As a result, I ended up with a not so handsome scar on my right cheek that starts from the corner of my mouth and nearly misses my eye. Yeah, it’s a long and pretty noticeable scar that has thankfully become less and less obvious as the years have progressed. Still, it’s not something I’d like to show to my viewers.

Eight ‘hi’s greet me back, each making my smile grow wider. “Sorry I’m late guys. Technical difficulties.”

“Don’t worry.“ Rae’s voice dominates over the rest, “Corpse still isn’t here so we’re waiting for him.“

I mute myself on the Discord call and take a look at my comments. I’m most flattered by the comments about my voice. Seeing as how they don’t have much to compliment about me other than my content, they make the nicest comments about my voice, personality and humor. Those comments are the ones who warm my heart most. Even when people in my day to day life compliment my appearance I can’t find it in me to believe they are being genuine. I’d like to believe these amazing people are being one hundred percent honest when they tell me they like me for who I am and not for what I might look like.

“Sorry I’m late guys.“ A deep voice causes me to even physically jolt, switching my focus from the comments to the Among Us lobby where my eyes land on the newly materialized black avatar.

“Hi Corpse.“ Rae greets him.

“Hello mister who broke Twitter!“ Sean laughs, provoking the laughter of the rest of the players.

“Yeah, congratulations man. That’s a big deal.“ Felix chimes in.

“Thanks guys, but I think you’re forgetting we’re talking about a picture of my hand.“ Corpse chuckles timidly. I have noticed how shy he gets when someone gives him a compliment - like a snail slowly withdrawing in its shell. I find it adorable.

“That’s what makes it even better!“ I unmute my mic, sending my own congratulations.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Rae begins, waiting for the rest of us to shut our traps, suggesting she has something important to say. “Y/N, do you ever plan on doing a reveal like that? Not a face reveal. Just a body part reveal.“

I have no problem talking about the subject with friends but I get nervous when I’m supposed to discuss it with my fans. Seeing as how everyone, including myself, is streaming right now, I get a bit of a stutter in my speech. “Haven’t thought about it yet. But I guess a body part reveal is harmless.” I cringe immediately after letting the words leave my mouth, “That sounds so weird.”

Rae knows that I’m not too fond of my face, but I haven’t told her about my scar yet. I let almost all people I’ve met online think I’m using my lack of appearance for effect. For the mystery of it all. Mysteries attract people which equals attention. Attention equals views and the domino effect continues.

“Just a suggestion. No pressure.“ Rae adds quickly, knowing full well I get anxious when the subject is brought up in front of cameras. “Let’s get this game started, shall we.”

* * *

The idea dwells in my mind, sitting on the back burner even after I disconnect from the Discord call. I’m sitting in my gaming chair, which was a gift for my two million milestone, and weighing out the pros and cons of the action Rae suggested I take.

“It’s a picture of your fucking hand, dummy. How bad can it turn out?“ I say out loud, shaking my head at my indecisiveness. “You’ll be fine.”

In a blur, two pictures are already posted on my Instagram. The first one captioned ‘Took a leaf from my friend’s book. Did I do it right @ corpsehusband?’ and the second ‘Thanks, Rae. These are on you.’

Rae’s POV

As I’m watching a movie in my living room, I get a notification from Instagram, informing me that Y/N has posted for the first time in a while.

I scoff, “More like the first time in forever.”

The first thing that comes to my mind is the possibility of her reaching that three million milestone that’s been long time coming. I bring the glass of water that’s sitting on my coffee table to my lips, taking a sip as I tap the notification. The picture I see makes me hurry to put the glass back down so I don’t drop it. Y/N’s hand. Her fingers are covered with several thin rings each. And here I thought Corpse had too many rings, this girl has at least two on every finger!

Then my eyes land on the second picture she has posted only minutes after the first and my heart drops. I struggle to get the water that’s been sitting in my moth down my esophagus while my mind is struggling with the task to comprehend the picture I’m looking at.

Another hand is resting on top of Y/N’s. A hand also covered in rings but fewer and larger. The nails are painted black.

I think I know who it belongs to.

Before I can even finish the thought, I’m dialing Y/N. She picks up after the second ring, sound cheery as ever as she greets me. “Hey Rae!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Rae’ me!” I practically scream. I hate being kept in the dark about anything ever so this is just driving me mad. On top of all, she’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. “Is that Corpse in the photo with you?!”

“Ugh....“ the cheeriness to her voice is all but gone now.

I go on with my rant, not giving her the time to reply. Not that she would reply. I bet she doesn’t know what to say. “So he knows where you live?! Or was the picture taken at his place?! He knows what you look like?! You have seen him! He has seen you in real life but me, your best friend, haven’t!!! You are breaking Covid 19 protection laws to take pictures?! Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!”

There’s a long moment of silence which frustrates me even more but I literally have run out of things to yell and the power to be angry. I mean, I still am, I just can’t express it.

“Rae, sweetheart, please calm down. You’re scary when you’re mad.“ This girl has some fucking nerve! She’s on the verge of laughing!

“Listen here you...“

“Rae, please stop scaring my girlfriend.“ That oh so distinguishable, oh so familiar voice interrupts me.

I am flabbergasted, for a lack of a better term.

“Now that we’ve got you quiet, I can explain.“ Y/N pics up the conversation, “Corpse and I have been dating for six, almost seven months now. We started dating around Easter after talking for quite some time. We moved in together at the end of September. All thanks to you, Rae. You’re the best.” She pauses to breathe in real quick, “There, all caught up?“

I’m in no less shock than I was before she explained. Actually, I think I might be even more confused now. It all just feels like a fever dream. “Yes...no. I don’t fucking know! I need details, Y/N!”

“Details later.“ Corpse makes his presence known once again, “We’re watching Family Guy right now. Talk to you later.“

“Love you, Rae!“ Y/N calls out before the line goes dead.

My arm goes limp, dropping my phone on the couch next to me.

“Motherfuckers” I mumble under my breath.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a week since Rae has stopped talking to both Corpse and me. I know she just needs some time to cool off. In the meantime, the rest of our friends were informed and, as oppose to Rae, were nothing but supportive and overjoyed. I bet Rae feels the same way though. Sean, Dave and the rest of the gang have confirmed that she’s incredibly happy for us and says she noticed a spark between me and him since day one, but she can’t help but be mad at us, and especially me, for not telling her sooner.

“Any regrets?“ I remember Corpse asking me when we hung up on her after dropping the bomb.

“Not being able to see her face when she saw the picture.“ I beam at him, feeling as content as ever.

He laughs, agreeing with me before leaning down to kiss me.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios

#corpse #corpse husband #corpsehusband #husband #corpse husband fanfic #corpse simp #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse fanfiction #corpse fanfic #corpse x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x reader #x reader #reader #request #requests open

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alcinadimitrescuwu · 3 years

Text

A Modest Proposal (Alcina x Fem!Reader)

Premise: You finally muster up the courage to propose to Alcina Dimitrescu. But will everything go as planned?

Note: Even though we technically don't know Alcina's middle name, I gave her Carmilla as her middle name in homage to another beloved Sapphic vampire! :)

Warnings: blood. Steamy scenes her and there, but nothing NSFW.

As you take the last steps towards your mistress’s chambers you have to stop for a minute and take some deep breaths. The other maids had taken to giving you concerned glances all morning. Your nerves had been so fraught that a plate had slipped out of your sweaty hands and broken. You didn’t mind the stares. To everyone else, this is just an ordinary day. Not for you.

Today is the day you are going to propose to Alcina Dimitrescu.

However, you have some errands to run first. For that you are going to have to ask Alcina, ironically enough, for the rest of the day off.

You steel yourself, slap your cheeks to banish any last nerves and knock on the door.

“Come in,” you hear an elegant, mature voice call.

Lady Dimitrescu is seated at her secretary, lining up accounts for the month. Her brow is furrowed in concentration. Upon clearing your throat, she takes off her reading glasses and when she sees you a smile bursts across her face that takes your breath away.

After a year and a half of courting, you could still not believe that this beautiful woman was your lover. You take in her laugh lines and dimples, her slightly puffy cheeks that she hated but you found adorable, her carmine lips freshly painted, and her blue eyes with a corona of gold around them that you found absolutely mesmerizing.

She takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. “Yes, iubirea mea, what can I do for you?”

“I would like to take the rest of the day off if that’s alright with you,” you say in a rush.

She blinks, surprised, but then smiles. “I don’t mind. After all, you’ve been working so hard lately. Have you cleared it with the head maid?”

“Yes-” Before you can say any more, in an instant Alcina has bent down and taken you in her arms with your back against her ample bosom. You feel hot breath on your neck and her curls tickle your ears as she whispers, “We could spend the whole day together. How would you like that, pet?”

You find yourself lost for words as she moves your uniform collar and begins kissing your neck. You lean back and sigh. Her perfume is intoxicating. She moves one hand to your hip and the other begins to peel back your skirt.

You would rather do nothing more than to make love to Alcina on your day off, however there are other matters more pressing. It takes great self control to take her hands off of you. A look of hurt crosses her face. You turn around and give her a chaste kiss and hold her face in your hands. “Forgive me, darling. I would love to but I have some errands to run. May I see you later? Dinner, the usual time?”

Her expression brightens and she kisses you deeply. “I’ll look forward to tonight then,” she says, tucking a curl behind your ear.

You can only nod and when you turn around, Alcina gives you a playful slap on the bum. You look back at her and she gives you a devilish grin.

Closing the door behind you, you can’t help but let out a chuckle. Alcina’s libido, it seemed, could never be satiated. As you take a step you wince and rub your behind. That woman honestly didn’t know her own strength sometimes.

You wrap your scarf around you as you leave the castle grounds. It may be the dead of winter but you find yourself sweating from nerves. The Duke catches your eye and waves you over.

“Ah, Miss Y/N! Just the lady I wanted to see. Your package just arrived.”

You feel your breath catch but nod silently. He turns around and begins rummaging around in the store. You turn around so as to not catch a glimpse of the Duke’s massive behind and you freeze. Alcina is at the window enjoying her morning cigarette. And she is staring directly at you.

You whisper to him, “Wait.” Alcina is still looking at you as she’s taking a drag off her cigarette. Smoke wreathes her gorgeous face. You give her a nervous wave. She waves back and then hears the phone ring. With a grimace, she puts out her cigarette and steps back inside.

You turn back to the Duke. “All right. It should be fine now.”

The Duke smiles and then presents you with a box slightly larger than a normal engagement ring box. With bated breath you open the box and behold the engagement ring that you have bought for Alcina.

Getting the ring had not been easy. When the Duke had told you the price for an engagement ring, especially a custom-made ring for Alcina, you nearly cried with frustration. After all, the main purpose of you working at Castle Dimitrescu was to send back money for your aging parents. When you and Lady Dimitrescu had first begun courting and she learned of your family’s financial situation she had offered to send them money herself each month so you didn’t have to work. However, your pride would not allow it. Any money sent back to your home, you wanted to come from your labors.

Getting enough money for your parents while also raising money to buy the ring had been a long and arduous process. You had begun taking up extra shifts to make up the money. There had been many nights where you had fallen asleep on the sofa with a feather duster in your hand and Alcina had to scoop you up in her arms and carry you to bed herself. But looking in at the ring within the box, you found it had been all worth it. The ring is beautiful, around 14 karats of gold inlaid with rubies forming the House Dimitrescu crest. You are sure Alcina would love it. It had taken time to get the exact measurements of her ring finger. While Alcina was asleep, you had taken her left hand often and studied her ring finger making sure the ring fit snug but not too tight. To get the crest right, you had taken to drawing it over and over again in your off time before you had a drawing good enough to show the Duke to have it commissioned.

You look up and grin at the Duke with tears in your eyes. “Duke, it's beautiful!” you breathe. “Alcina- er, Lady Dimitrescu will love it!”

He pats your hand as you slip the box into your apron pocket. “Not a problem at all, m’dear! Good luck tonight!”

With that done, you head back to the castle. You practically skip back to the gates, taking out the box every so often and peeking inside. Your joy dissipates when you realize what the next item on your to do list is.

Asking for Lady Dimitrescu’s daughters’ blessing.

When you walk in, you actually run into them getting ready to go out. Bela smiles at you as she adjusts Daniela’s cowl on her traveling cloak. “Y/N! Good to see you! Mother told us you had taken the day off.”

Cassandra pipes up, “We were just going out to go hunting! Want to come with us?”

“Actually I wanted to talk to you all about something,” you say as you look around the foyer for any sign of the girls’ mother. “Is there somewhere private we can all talk? Preferably somewhere your mother doesn’t frequent?”

Daniela’s eyes glitter mischievously. “Oooh, keeping secrets are we? Come on, I know a perfect place we can hide!”

Daniels leads the pack to the library. “Mother usually practices her singing around this time,” she says over her shoulder. “So there’s not a chance she’ll overhear anything you say.”

Sure enough, you hear Lady Dimitrescu’s voice singing an elaborate coloratura from upstairs. Perfect.

Daniela’s hands run over the panels in the wall. “Now where is it….Aha there it is!” Daniela picks up a loose panel on the wall and puts it to the side. She steps in and backons the rest of you forward.

There is no light in this room save for torches every couple meters. The room can’t be much more than 6 feet tall, so there was no way Lady Dimitrescu could fit in properly. “We used to hide from Mother here all the time as children,” Daniela winks conspiratorially at you.

Cassandra begins jumping up and down excitedly. “Now what’s the secret? Tell us! Tell us!”

You take a deep breath and then let it out. “All right...Tonight I am planning on proposing to your mother and-”

You are cut off by the girls’ cries of jubilation. Daniela runs over and gives you a big hug. Bela has burst into happy tears. Cassandra continues jumping up and down and chanting, “Bonus mom! Bonus mom!”

You can’t help but laugh. “Does that mean I have your blessing?”

“Of course!” they yell in unison.

Bela says excitedly, “The ring! Do you have a ring?”

Blushing furiously you nod and take out the black velvet box and open it. They “ooh” and “aah” and take turns looking at it before they finally relinquish it back to you. As you put the box back into your pocket, you say, “Well girls, I need to start getting ready. Please make sure not to do anything to arouse your mother’s suspicions. I want it to be a surprise.”

The girls nod their assent, but Cassandra interjects, “Do you need help getting ready? We want you to be looking your best for tonight!”

Everyone enthusiastically agrees and you can’t help but smile fondly at the girls. You may be closer in age to them, but ever since you had begun courting their mother, you loved them like they were your own children. “All right, if you insist.”

The girls cheer and Cassaandra takes you by the hand and leads you back to your room to get ready.

15 minutes before your meeting with Lady Dimitrescu you take a look in the mirror. The girls truly outdid themselves on your makeover. Daniela had curled your hair and it hung in ringlets over your shoulders. Cassandra had given you one of her dresses, a red column dress that was backless with a plunging neckline. This wasn’t the sort of thing you would normally wear, but you had to admit the silhouette was very flattering, highlighting your natural curves. The best part: it had pockets large enough to hide the ring box! Bela was on makeup duty, giving you wingtips sharper than Alcina’s claws and a smokey eye. You spritz on some rosewater perfume and head out. As you pass the hall mirror, you consider putting your hair up in a chignon but think better of it. Alcina had always liked your hair best when it was down.

When you are at the door to Alcina’s chambers you take a deep breath before knocking on the door. “Come in, iubirea mea,” Alcina’s voice purrs within.

You head inside and Alcina has her back turned on you, lighting the candelabras at the table she has set up for you two. “I’ve needed this, my love. You should’ve heard what that fool Heisenberg-”

She stops and stares at you. You can’t help but feel self-conscious as she takes you in. She finally sets the candlestick she was using to light the others back in the candelabra and heads purposefully towards you. She scoops you up in her arms and kisses you deeply, burying her hands in your curls. She breaks the kiss and strokes your cheek. “You look beautiful,” she says breathlessly.

You can’t help but blush at the compliment. “So do you,” you reply as she sets you down gently, praying she doesn’t hear the box rustling in your skirts. She takes your hand and leads you to your seat where she pulls out your chair for you. You take her hand that is resting on the back of your seat and kiss it.

Dinner proceeds as normal at first. You listen to her talk about her day, which takes your mind off the proposal for a bit. Then she puts it at the forefront of your mind when she says, “I saw you talking to the merchant this morning. Did you have anything special coming in?”

Your mouth goes dry. How do you respond to that? “Oh, no. He just wanted to chat. You know how he gets!”

Alcina purses her lips but nods eventually. “Indeed.”

Awkward silence settles over you for a bit. Then she begins talking again, this time ranting about Heisenberg and you almost sigh in relief. This is easy. You just have to listen and agree with whatever she says.

“And then do you know what that fool called me? He called me a ‘simp’ for Mother Miranda! I didn’t even know what that was. I had to ask my daughters and when they told me of course I was infuriated.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean, a simp? Me? Ha! Imagine! He’s just jealous because he wishes that he had half the devotion that I have for her!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you think I’m a simp?”

“Uh-huh.”

She glares at you from across the table. Damn. She’s caught you.

You stumble over your words trying to correct your stupid blunder. “I mean, no! Of course you’re not a simp! Where would he get that idea?”

Alcina leans across the table and takes your chin in her hand, forcing you to look directly into her eyes. “Am I boring you, pet?” she asks, a dangerous edge to her voice.

“Er, no! No, I'm having a great time!” you say, smiling stupidly at her.

Alcina lets go of your chin and settles back in her chair, crossing her arms. Her stormy expression can’t disguise the look of hurt on her face. “You were the one that suggested we meet tonight, darling. I can’t see why you would want to if you’re not going to at least attempt to be present with me.”

“I’m sorry, darling. I-”

She turns away from you, her large hat blocking her expression. “Maybe you should go.” She gets up and crosses the room to open the door.

No, no, God, no this can’t be happening. This is your worst nightmare. You can’t let her open the door, you just can’t.

You practically fall to one knee. “Alcina!”

“What?” she snaps, turning her head toward you. Her expression softens as she sees that you are down on one knee with the box open. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she says so quietly you have to lean to hear it, “Draga mea, what are you doing?”

You had a big speech prepared for this. But everything else has gone to hell in a handbasket, so you might as well get it over with. “Alcina Carmilla Dimitrescu, will you marry me?”

Alcina just stands there and stares. The tears that had been building in her eyes now spill over as she kneels down to your level and gives you a passionate kiss.

You smile against her lips and break the kiss. “Does that mean yes?”

“Yes, my darling,” she gives you a watery smile and caresses your jaw. “Yes.”

With trembling hands you take the ring out of the box and slip it on her left ring finger. She lifts her hand and inspects the new ring in the chandelier light. The rubies catch the light, nearly blinding you with their brilliance.

“How does it fit? It’s not too tight?”

She beams at you, positively radiating with joy. “It fits perfectly.” She then rises and heads over to her dresser and opens the top drawer. To your surprise, she pulls out a red box with the Dimitrescu family crest on the top. She sinks to one knee and presents you with an old, but beautiful ring. It must have been passed down through the Dimitrescu bloodline for generations.

Your face feels hot and you feel tears welling up in your eyes. She gently takes your arm. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” She wipes the tears that have already begun cascading your cheeks. “It is tradition for House Dimitrescu to propose with the family ring to symbolize the unification of two houses. I had been planning to propose to you next week. You beat me to it, you clever girl.” She takes your hand and slips the Dimitrescu family ring on your ring finger. It is slightly larger than your finger, but you don’t care. You couldn’t be happier.

Alcina takes you into her lap and kisses you passionately. In between kisses, she queries, ”All those extra shifts you took. They were all for me?”

“Yes, my love,” you say breathlessly. “All for you.”

She stands up and takes you in her arms. You wrap your arms around her neck as she deepens the kiss, exploring your mouth with her tongue. You can taste salty tears on her lips. She carries you over to the bed kissing you the whole time and sets you down gently. She kneels over you on the bed and you rest your leg on her hip. The slit in your skirt rises up, exposing your stockinged leg. After putting her hand gently on your shoulder, Alcina begins kissing your neck. You lean back into the cushions and sigh.

You hear a low moan in her throat, almost like a whine as she kisses your pulse point. You don’t say anything; you just nod. Soon enough you feel the sharp but familiar sensation of Alcina’s fangs piercing your neck. She holds you against her body and you bury your hands in her curls, causing her hat to fall off. Briefly taking her hand off your shoulder, she slaps the hat aside like it was so much rubbish. You take pleasure in every sigh, every moan, every exclamation you elicit from her as she drinks. When she finally stops drinking she wipes her mouth and gives you a seductive smirk. “Good girl,” she purrs.

Alcina’s mouth is on yours again as she undoes your halter while you unhook her garter. She breaks the kiss and cradles your face in her hands. “Te iubesc, draga mea.”

You take her hand and kiss it while saying, “And I you, Alcina.”

The two of you make love until the sun rises the next morning.

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re8 village #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #re8 fanfiction #lady dimitrescu fanfic #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #alcina x maiden #lady dimitrescu x female reader

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lonely-lost-soul · 3 years

Text

Blood for the Blood God

(Technoblade x Reader)

gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss.

~~~

A young hybrid stood at the edge of the world, his pink hair tied up in a bun, face free of scars he’d acquired in his later years, and he looked decades younger. A diamond-encrusted dagger rested against his hip in its holder, his feet nervously tapped on the dirt. Silence surrounded him, maybe he should’ve told Phil where he was going, what he was going to do, the deal he was about to make. There were no trees on the cliffside, no signs of life anywhere for miles, in fact, he wasn’t sure if he stepped into another realm altogether. It was just him, the cliff, and of course the ancient scrolls in his bag. Technoblade frowned slightly thinking back on his old friend once more, would Phil’s family and his old friend be disappointed in his choices. Did he even care? He swallowed thickly holding out his hand, he pulled out a dagger from its holder, and drug it across his palm. Blood spilled from the wound, Technoblade let out a hiss of pain watching the blood pool in his palm. He held his hand out over the void and let a few drops of blood seep into space. He had long since memorized the words on the scrolls in his bag, Technoblade chanted the words written in Greek and he felt the wind begin to pick up around him. Goosebumps appeared on his arms, He was grateful his hair was wrapped up in a bun or else it would be tangled and blowing all over the place. At this time in his life, his hair was down to his ankles, getting it calm in any sense of the word was a struggle.

Dust picked up and he covered his eyes, by the time Technoblade opened them a beautiful figure stood in the void, the goddess was giant, towering far above the treelines below the cliff. A crown rested on top of the Goddess’s head, it was golden and formed a halo above her head, stars littered across her face as her eyes opened. Her gaze bore straight into Techno’s soul, her gown was a deep black with red lacing across the neckline, and it flared out at her feet. A corset tight around her waist, intricate gold was embedded into the fabric, her (h/c) hair floating around her head.

“Technoblade,” Her voice sounded like silk in his ears, and he loved the way her voice said his name. Pink blossomed in his cheeks as his eyes widened, he didn’t even comprehend that she knew his name without even asking. “Why have you summoned me here today?” The Goddess hummed softly leaning downwards her giant face in front of Technoblades, he was in awe at her majesty. He gaped like a fish for a few moments and she lightly giggles pulling away from his body, Technoblade swallowed thickly recovering from his shock.

“You’re the Blood God?” He questioned not expecting you to be so womanly, you hummed softly tapping your nails on the ground causing it to rumble under his feet.

“I go by many names young one, but yes that is one of them.” She hummed the clouds began to swirl around her head, “I’m known as the Blood God, Blood Goddess, but if we strike a deal you may refer to me as (Y/n).”

“The scrolls said you’d be a man.”

“Disappointed?”

“No, not at all.” Technoblade hurriedly corrected himself, “Just startled.”

“Men always like to change history,” She clicked her tongue in distaste brow furrowing in frustration. “Changing the great things women do, the fear of powerful women is only felt by weaker and pitiful men.” He watched the Goddess’s eyes turn blood red a smile came across her lips, “They deserve to bleed. Pitiful men don’t deserve to walk the same earth of those worthy.” Technoblade felt himself nodding alongside the Goddess’s words, she had a point. Any man who disrespects or underestimates women deserves the fate she mentioned. “Now Technoblade tell me what you need from me?”

“I wish to never die.” The words hung in the air, he watched the goddess lean back in contemplation.

“I cannot make you immortal, I’m afraid you’ve contacted the wrong God.”

Technoblade shook his head, he knew he contacted the proper God, if he tried to contact the God of Death, Phil would know immediately.

“It’s not necessarily immortality I am after,” You titled your head curiously urging the young man to continue his point. “I just want something to make me never die, whether it’s power or unaging, I need something.”

“Why? Are you aware of the consequences of becoming immoral or like an immortal,” The Goddess gently reached her hand out nudging her giant finger against his cheek, “To see those who love you die around you while you never age? Anyone, you fall in love with won’t grow old with you.”

“I don’t plan on falling in love.” He interrupted the goddess, standing up straighter. He watched her purse her lips, in a blinding flash of light a woman was standing in front of him. Technoblade felt his face heat up, in her mortal form she was much smaller, but her outfit remained the same, the crown still on her head, showing off her power.

“You cannot comprehend the ideas of the goddess of love Technoblade. She has many interesting ideas on who should fall in love.” Technoblade straightened as she leaned in closer to his face,

“I’ll fight them.”

The Goddess blinked a few times as Technoblade looked away awkwardly at what he blurted out, and you burst into hysterical laughter. You covered your hand with your mouth trying to stifle said laughter, he made a small ‘heh?’ like sound as you clutched your abdomen.

“Sorry- Sorry! I just never heard someone so willingly eager to fight the God of Love so they don’t fall in love.” Your eyes lit up with delight as Technoblade visibly relaxed, for the self-proclaimed Blood God you sure were child-like, much like Wilbur, “You’re so cute yet so naive.” He tensed again his teeth grinding together,

“I’m not naive.” He huffed narrowing his eyes not even processing that she had called him cute. You hummed a few more giggles spilling past your lips, before collecting yourself and straightening your dress.

“Technoblade, before we continue forward with our potential deal there are some stipulations.” You hummed softly holding out your hand, “If you wish for my power to never die this is what I can grant you.” You pressed your glowing red finger to his forehead, his pupils shrunk in and he saw himself in the future. Scars littered his face, arms, and back, his hair was tied into a tight braid, gold jewelry coated his ears and fingers. He had a scruff of a beard on his chin, and he overall radiated power. By his side in some form of a Tundra, was Phil, looking a little older, his right-wing shredded beyond repair. On Technoblade’s back were three Wither Skull tattoo’s one in the middle of his back and the other two on his opposite shoulder blades. A netherite sword hung on his hip and it seemed to be coated in dried blood, his arms were crossed in distaste, he caught a glimpse of three lines on his arm.

He never lost a single life. Suddenly he heard thousands of voices echoing in his head, he clutched his ears falling to his knees, all of them were screaming, pleading for blood.

Technoblade breathed heavily snapping back to the current reality, “what was that?” He panted eyes a bit frantic, “the future?”

“One version of it,” You hummed pulling your hand down to your side. “The future can change on such a whim there never may be a true future I can show you, but it was one.” His brow furrowed watching you reach out and trace over the lifelines on his wrist, a pleasant tingle was sent up his spine. “I can assure you the power I can give will not make you immortal, but it will give you the power to slaughter all your enemies on a whim. Reach your goals and make it nearly impossible to die, that is the power I can grant you.” He watched his lives glow a soft gold and he choked on his spit, another tingle shot up his body, “but there are consequences as there is with every deal one makes.”

Technoblade nodded in understanding willing to risk anything to be that powerful, keeping his life and living with Phil. So the older man won’t have to lose anyone else in his life due to his immortality.

“While you’ll be powerful and practically impossible to kill you will still be mortal. You will be able to die and will still be bound to the three life systems my brother has set up. However, you will live forever so long as that does not happen.” He felt your hand move up his arm and he involuntary flexed his muscles. “But, you’ll have to bear the curse of the Blood God,” You whispered eyes flashing in regret, “The voices.”

“Voices?” He questioned with an eyebrow raise watching you nod almost sadly.

“They will be hard to ignore and occur almost instantly once the deal is in place. There will be thousands of them, always talking or screaming begging you to kill and slaughter. Begging you to kill and supply me with the blood I so desperately crave be spilled on the land. They will say other things too, commenting on your thoughts and your life, you’ll eventually learn to live with them. Especially with my help, but they’re hard to deal with, hard to ignore their yearn for the slaughter of anything with a pulse. You’ll have to learn to get along with them, that is your only hope to not lose yourself to them.” He felt your hand up to his cheek, thumb brushing against the apples of them, “It will be painful and you’ll still need to train to gain more muscle and strength, but it will be easier for you to reach that goal. So with that in mind Technoblade, do we have a deal?”

Technoblade locked eyes with the Goddess in front of him, he could deal with a few voices screaming in his ear, after all, you’d be by his side, helping him learn and grow.

“Deal,” Technoblade spoke gruffly, “how do we go about this?” He tensed swallowing thickly watching you cup his cheeks in your hands. “You’re touching my face, that’s fine this is fine, not intimate at all.” He watched you raise an eyebrow,

“It’s about to get a lot more intimate I’m afraid,” You purred as Technoblade flushed red, he felt your one hand remove itself from his cheek. She trailed her hand down his neck and his body, he was a shivering, red mess, she found the dagger at his side. He watched in awe as it floated in front of her, slicing open her palm, blood bubbled from the wound it was laced with golden flecks of ambrosia. Technoblade looked at her nervously, “Drink.”

“Eh?” He made a disgusted face eyeing the blood smearing on your palm, he watched it drip intimately down your wrist. Technoblade swallowed thickly, “why?”

“You have to take a piece of me to grant my power, you’ll grow fond of the taste of blood eventually.” You smiled pityingly, another hand gently squeezing his neck and Technoblade let out a shaky breath. He placed a hand on your wrist looking up into your eyes, you hummed sweetly urging him to continue, “I don’t bite. Hard.” You mused, eyes sparkling, dangerously, the look was verging on flirty, the young man flushed. He leaned forward, hesitantly licking the dripping blood that spilled down your arm up to the cut you made with his dagger. The ambrosia in your blood tingled his tongue tasting sweeter than honey, his pupils blew wide dragging his tongue across your palm. He barely registered your hand in his hair, curling around the loose stands tenderly, and much like a kitten, he began to lap at your palm. Technoblade felt like his entire body was on fire, but the blood you possessed tasted so sweet, he felt as though he’s never tasted anything better. He drank until your body healed and he couldn’t taste any more blood, he felt a whine bubble in his throat desperately trying to get more blood from your healed cut. You shushed him softly poking his nose, which seemingly snapped him back to reality, ears turning red as a small amount of blood stained the corner of his mouth. You leaned forward standing on your tiptoes, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the corner of his mouth, tongue lapping at the left-over blood. He let out another whine as you pulled away licking your teeth, humming fondly at the taste. “Such a good boy, listening to your god,” he felt himself pant his vision blurring the praise from you swimming in his head, doing things to him he didn’t quite understand.

Technoblade’s eyes snapped open as the world around him filled with screaming voices, he yelled out in agony as a fire shot through his skull, burning his brain and licking at the top of his spine. Voice pleading and screaming for more blood, to paint the entirety of the cliffside with sweet blood, to grab the nearest thing with a pulse and tear it to pieces. His pupils shrank and his mouth began to water helplessly,

‘Blood for the Blood God! Serve her! We live to serve her, get her blood. Feed us, Feed her. Blood. Blood. Blood. Kill anything that tries to stop us. Blood. Blood. Blood.’

These millions of voices pounded heavily in his ears, he felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Suddenly the voices quieted and he was vaguely aware of your hand on his forehead,

‘Goddess, our goddess.’

“Shhhh,” You whispered fondly and Technoblade leaned into your cool touch. “Be kind to this one, he’s special.” He didn’t understand what you meant but heard the voices calm down as you spoke to them. “Play nice,” Techno realized that you weren’t talking to him but the voices in his head.

‘Yes ma’am. We’ll be good. But I want to break this one. Don’t be rude to our goddess! Bark, bark, bark. Don’t bark at her! She’s gorgeous though! Truly a work of art. We just want to provide you with blood! Let us play with him a little!’

“I know my darlings and I appreciate it.” You cooed fondly and Technoblade felt warmth flow through his entire being. “But try to get along with this one, he’s special,” Technoblade watched the goddess wink at him. He found himself asking her if he would see her again and she snickered softly,

“Of course you will. We’re interconnected now,” you took his hand, allowing his bigger one to encompass your own. “I’ll see you again soon, try not to die.” In another flash of light, the goddess was gone, he was left alone with the roaring voices and deep-seated loneliness that he was not accustomed to feeling.

It only took a few weeks for Phil to find out about his meeting with the Blood God herself he was immediately worried for his friend. Scolding him for doing something so stupid and reckless, even if what he was preaching was largely hypocritical. The newly acquired voices seemed to have a different interpretation of his nagging, instead, they urged Technoblade to call the man Dadza. Behind Phil his crows cawed and flocked around the both of them, Phil’s brow furrowed and squeezed Technoblade’s shoulder.

“I hope you know what you’re doing mate. Dealing with gods is a dangerous game,” Phil sighed “I know that better than anybody. You need anything, contact me immediately.”

“I will,” The young man nodded in response to his old friend, “Trust me.”

“You know I do.” Phil responded his wings fluttering anxiously, “Just know how dangerous the Blood God can be, the voices granted to you will be hard to resist.”

“She gave me the spiel Phil, I can handle a few voices.” Technoblade scoffed crossing his arms over his chest, “Have a little faith.” Phil only grew more concerned watching Techno’s hand twitch, he could only hope he knew what he got himself into.

~~~

“Oh, Technoblade what have you done?” Your voice echoed in his head as he snarled loudly, red eyes blazing fire. Corpses littered his feet, blood staining the floor and walls, he was older than the last time she had visited. Hair was tied in a braid, scars littered his face and arms that seemed to only accentuate the blood staining his face. His ax was in the corner of the room blood stained the weapon as well, “You poor man.” He turned towards you and snarled the voices in his head roared needily, his head and heart were pounding, “Use your words.” You commanded hardly red mist swirling around your fingers, it hit him square in the chest sending him flying backward into a wall. Behind you stood a taller figure, in his state Technoblade could only make out a mask with a large ‘X’ carved into it.

“Your little plaything seems to be struggling with your curse dear sister,” XD mused from behind you, “Your supposed prodigy seems to have lost control.” You clicked your tongue in distaste sending your brother a look.

“Technoblade come back to your God.” You commanded your voice harshly seeping into his ears, he only roared in response, steam coming out of his nostrils. “I’m disappointed in you all,” the voices all at once stopped their screaming and Technoblade fell to his knees the sudden shift to silence throwing him off. You walked over to his crumpled body, bare feet stepping on the wooden planks marking the floorboards with your bloodied footprints. You knelt in front of him, the hybrid breathing heavily, his tusks tried to cut your skin and succeeded in pricking your fingers. You grabbed onto his tusks, those were also bigger than the last time you saw them, you tugged them harshly. He grunted in pain, “No.” You snarled looking deep into his eyes, “You slaughtered an entire village of innocent lives! That is not in my plan or my wishes you stupid mortal!” You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, his clarity was slowly coming back to him. “There were children here! Children you tore apart, I trusted you to have some semblance of control, and you!” She pressed a manicured nail to the top of his head speaking directly to the voices, “I asked for one thing from you and you make him do this!”

“Get ‘em, girl. You tell them.” XD mused from behind you, snapping his fingers almost sassily. His robes flowing around his arms, you turned over your shoulder to glare at him.

“Oh, go fuck George Lore.”

“Fuck you.” Lighting cackled from behind the God of the SMP his long nails digging into the flesh on his arms. You huffed glaring at your older brother, from behind you Technoblade tried to lunge at God for disrespecting his Goddess. “Watch your dog,” He scoffed another growl bubbling in Technoblade’s throat.

“Techno.” Your voice filled his ears again and he fell against your shoulder, “I haven’t been a good Goddess to you have I?” You spoke softly, his entire body relaxing into you as he listened to you. “You cannot handle the voices on your own that was my mistake, I will train you so this doesn’t happen again that I can promise you.” Your fingers gently played with the hair on the back of his neck,

“(Y/n)?” He mumbled groggily,

“There he is, welcome back to the real world.” The goddess pulled away from his beaten body, he looked around seeing the blood and the bodies. His ears twitched something akin to guilt curled in his stomach.

Had he done this? To a village of innocent traders?

“Did I..?”

“You lost control I’m afraid.”

“I- that’s impossible, I was doing so well I had control-”

“Technoblade!” A voice called out pushing past XD, an older gentleman with messy blonde hair a bucket hat. “You’re alright!- Who the hell are all of you?” The man seemed to realize they weren’t alone and his eyes locked onto yours. “(Y/n)?”

“Philza Minecraft. Long time no see,” You hummed a smile spreading across your lips, “Kristin says hello.”

Phil’s entire face flushed to the tips of his ears and he coughed nervously, “Er...tell her the same and that I miss her.”

“I will,” You gave a little bow of your head, “Is Technoblade your son?”

“More like an old friend, but I see him as such.”

“Shut up old man,” Technoblade grumbled sitting up on his knees without you to support him.

“I didn’t realize you were the Blood God,” Phil continued dropping by Technoblade’s side the old man was missing a few of his flight feathers. A large cut was gouged into his shoulder, that was it that was the trigger, something must’ve hurt Phil and caused the halfling to snap.

“That seems to be a common theme,” You frowned a little with a gentle sigh, you tried to glance at your brother, but XD had long since disappeared from the doorway. Most likely because he was bored and wanting to go bother Foolish, “Philza.” You declared as Technoblade glanced over at you through hooded eyes, “Will you allow me to train and help your son."

“He’s not my dad-”

“Of course Goddess, whatever will help him stay in control.” You nodded your head at the consent, in a flash of light your entire appearance changed. You looked much more human, with a simple yet sophisticated outfit that fit the period

“Then let’s begin.”

~~~

The sun began to rise above the cliff where Technoblade had first summoned his Goddess. He took in a deep breath inward and then let the breath outwards after a few minutes of holding it. He sat criss-cross on the cliffside letting air into his lungs as he remembered the meditation techniques you had taught him many years ago. The voices were particularly antsy today but he had learned from the best how to control them, to quiet them down, talk, and reason with them.

‘The sun is rising. It’s very pretty, can we please just spill a little bit of blood?’

“No.” He murmured under his breath, “We get to see (Y/n) today. Don’t ruin this for me. We need her help.”

“They bothering you?” Your voice flowed through his head like butter, and warmth engulfed his entire being,

‘We are not! Come on, we love you! E!!!! Don’t be mean to us!’

“They said you’re being mean.”

“Am not,” You snorted wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and fell across his broad shoulders. Surprisingly the goddess’s touch comforted him, while others’ touches felt like fire, yours was pleasant. “Just want to make sure my prodigy is safe and in control,”

“I am thanks to your lessons.”

“Good, now. You said you wanted to talk to me about something important. Do tell, I’m very curious. It’s not like you to keep secrets from me.” A feather-light kiss was placed on his cheek as you moved from behind him to the front, he adored you. The sunlit up your cheeks and framed your head like a halo, it was like everything on earth was made to make you look perfect.

“I have a predicament,” He tapped his nails on his knees as you hummed thoughtfully, “There’s a war brewing between the government of ‘New L’manburg’ and myself. The government killed Wilbur, drove him so mad that Phil had to kill him to stop his nonsense.”

“I remember that,” You said with a stern nod, “there was a lot of blood spilled that day.” The people who fought in the war lost a lot of lives and you remembered it vividly, XD watched the battle with you from above, you wanted to keep an eye on Technoblade. When the battle was over and his allies betrayed him it took all of your willpower to not go down there and kill them all where they stood.

No one touches your prodigy.

XD had to physically hold your powers away from you, it was the closest you’ve come to losing control of since you were a young Goddess.

When Technoblade escaped to the Tundra that’s when you appeared in front of him, giving him a bone-crushing hug. He grunted at the unfamiliar body but there was only one person that he knew of who could appear out of nowhere and that was his Goddess. You remembered him apologizing to you, fearing you’d be mad at him for failing to kill all those who opposed you and him. You shut him up with a searing kiss, he was dizzy as you pulled away,

“Don’t scare me like that again.”

“I won’t,” he murmured still recovering from the shock of the kiss, recovering from how much he enjoyed feeling your lips press against his own. “I won’t disappoint you again,”

“You better not.” You cupped his cold cheek with your hand, he nuzzled into it, “You have so much more to give.” Technoblade gave a stern nod as the voices urge him to kiss your forehead, and he listened. “My strong prodigy,” you recalled how he shivered at your words “Are you mine?”

“Only if you’re mine in return.”

“I can live with that.”

His big hand cupped your cheek and you snapped your attention back to the mortal in front of you, you smiled and kissed one of the scars on his palm. Techno brushed his thumb across your cheek, the stars on your face left his fingers tingling. “I need your help, they tried to execute me and hurt Phil they need to be taught a permanent lesson. Please fight by my side,”

“Love, you know I’m not allowed to interfere with wars of mortals. My brother will demote me.”

“I know that,” Technoblade assured reaching out to squeeze your hand, “that’s not what I mean or what I want for you Goddess.” You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head,

“Explain,” consider your curiosity peaked.

“Grant me more of your power, fight through me, my dear.” Your eyes widened as his eyes flashed red,

“That’ll tear you apart, you will not be able to handle that.”

“I will.”

“Techno-”

“I trust you.”

Your lips dipped into a tight frown, “I don’t trust myself.” You admitted closing your eyes, “I’m called the Blood God for a reason Technoblade.”

“You’ve taught me how to keep control, I know you can as well darling. Please.”

“Fine,” You agreed after a while looking at the ground, “I’ll let my power flow through you on one condition. You only use it once when it’s life or death.”

“I promise you,” he leaned forward and kissed your lips causing you to purr happily. “I’ll only use it once just keep an ear out for when I call for you.”

“I will.”

The battle came much faster than Technoblade would’ve liked, he had Dream, Phil, and the dogs by his side. They would blow the government to smithereens and won’t stop until they hit bedrock. Above the clouds, he knew his Goddess was watching over them, there was no way they wouldn’t succeed. He felt the voices yearn for blood, yearn to serve and please their god, to wreck the entire governmental system. Dream told Technoblade and Phil their duties, which consisted of distracting the government with as many Withers as possible, so Dream could set up the canons. Technoblade could feel the buzzing in his skull knowing the voices were itching to set off the Withers and conquer. They gathered the wolves from underneath L’manburg and Technoblade ruffled their fur and gave them each some last-minute treats, he hated to think of that as a last meal for some of them, but that’s essentially what they were. As he made his way into the country Phil had squeezed his shoulder, a gesture meant to be affectionate in nature.

“Try not to die.”

“You too old man. You still have the totem I gave you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Good. Now let’s kick their asses,” Technoblade grinned viciously. He looked up into the swirling clouds in the sky, crows screaming overhead, “Watch over me, my goddess.” His head filled with warmth and he knew you were by his side like you promised you would be, Phil smiled over at Technoblade and looked to the sky as well.

‘Watch over him (y/n), Kristin,’ He thought getting into a position to release his Withers onto the world.

Technoblade followed suit, the citizens caught onto his presence almost immediately, ready to battle him with weapons drawn. Luckily the dogs took care of anyone who dared try to get a hit in, ripping apart any exposed flesh and spilling their blood on the ground. The dogs allowed him to set up two Withers and send them into the battle, exploding and targeting individuals in their line of sight. Technoblade escaped into a small area by a river and was suddenly attacked by Sapnap. The fire demon spawn’s eyes were alight with bloodlust, seemingly from slaughtering half of his pet wolves singlehandedly.

“Well, well, well, who do we have here?” Sapnap grinned swinging the sword in his hand, fire sparking from the horns on his head. Technoblade had no time for the cocky man’s small talk as he charged at him, he blocked the blow with ease, golden ring glinting in the fleeting light. “Not much of a talker huh? No matter,” Sapnap snickered, “I’ll be the one to take your first life.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Technoblade snorted pulling away to kick Sapnap in the chest, he stumbled back but he was known for his quick recovery time. He grunted a little and sent a trail of fire-spitting towards Technoblade’s feet. Technoblade was distracted by the fire and it allowed the demon to slice a deep cut into Technoblade’s chest, the man didn’t have time to block. He grits his teeth and felt blood seep across his chest, pain ricocheting through his body. The voices roared to kill the idiot, to get up and give him a severe wound back, but before he could he was kicked in the chest by Sapnap and fell to his back. The sword was pointed at his neck and it dug in just deep enough for a droplet of blood to bubble under the sword.

He was fucked.

‘Call her. Call (Y/n). Call the Blood God. Call our Blood God. Blood for the Blood God.’

“Any last words?”

“(Y/n) I need you.”

“Who the fuck-” A blaring light blinded Sapnap as he stumbled back, squinting his eyes he could barely make out Technoblade in front of him. Technoblade’s eyes blazed a scarlet red, the wound on his chest healing over rapidly like he just ate two god apples. That wasn’t the worst of it though, Sapnap stumbled back some more, above Technoblade’s head was a stunningly gorgeous woman. Her hands were cupping his head, red seeping from her fingers and licking at Techno’s head like flames. The Goddess’s eyes were closed as her hair floated around her head, framing her face beautiful, she was terrifying calm,

“What the fuck. Who the fuck?” His voice cracked watching the being open her sharp eyes, a bloodthirsty grin appeared on her lips. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Technoblade. Kill the idiot man, who dared to try and kill you. That is my command. Give Blood to your Blood God.”

Technoblade’s lips curled over his tusks, he was salivating, the voices were roaring. “Blood for the Blood God,”

He spoke and the last thing Sapnap saw was the shine off Technoblade’s blade, and the glowing eyes of the Goddess herself before the world around him went dark.

Technoblade was breathing heavily, the voices wanted more blood, he felt the pull from you as well, you wanted more blood spilled. Steam curled around his nose and he shook his head, ‘no. no more. Thank you.’ He licked the blood off his sword and the voices quieted, satisfied with the taste on his tongue.

“Stay safe,” Your voice echoed around the battlefield, some chose to ignore the booming voice of the female but others turned to look. Staring in awe at the sight of the goddess, many not knowing her origin or what she was but felt her power over the battlefield. “Don’t disappoint me,”

“You know I won’t.” He grinned blood staining his teeth, behind him an explosion rang out, Dream was ready with the TNT cannons. He heard a familiar cry from who he assumed Tommy and when he turned back to face you, you were gone.

They will forever know that Technoblade serves and is dating the Blood God.

~~~

Tag list: @iamsuchasimp, @victory-is-here, @pastelmoonwitche, @ignat1usaquar1us, @boiled-onionrings, @alovestruck-fool, @mack4676

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harrylovex · 3 years

Text

SPIN THE BOTTLE

summary: chris is shy around you until he gets drunk...

warnings: fluff, kissing, alcohol usage, chris being handsy ;)

a/n: playing spin the bottle with chris would just be a dream 😩😩😩 especially if there is sexual tension between the two of you, gaaaawwwdd this is what i’m dreaming about tonight

it was your friend emily’s 35th birthday and she was having a huge party at her house.

everyone you knew was going, including your favourite person in the whole world, chris evans.

you two had been introduced to eachother at a summer barbecue a few years back by emily, and you had been pining after him pretty much since then.

you and him had hung out with eachother a few times at other gatherings and you got on really well, but chris was shy around you.

he was reserved around everyone really, it had nothing to do with you. it was his nature.

but, when he would get drunk, it would be like something in him switched. his shyness would completely disappear and he became the life of the party.

you knew that chris secretly did like you, he would never admit it sober though. on the occasions when he would get drunk, which was pretty much every party, he would get really handsy with you.

he would keep you with him all the time, holding your hand and squeezing your hips, pulling you onto his lap whenever he sat down. he liked to be protective over you, and you cherised every minute of it. it was the only time when you could be close to him.

a few times, chris had kissed you, taking you by surprise. it would usually happen when you had to leave, a long goodbye kiss, his hands grabbing at your waist as he moaned into your mouth.

both of you remembered everything that happened when you were drunk, but it was never brought up.

you had never met anyone nicer than chris. he was incredibly charming and down to earth, always thinking of other people before himself, not to mention unbearably handsome and sexy.

emily knew how much you liked chris, she had spoken to him about it before, asking him questions about you, but he was never one to talk about his feelings. he liked to keep it private.

you turned up to emily’s and her husband opened the door, greeting you.

you stepped inside, eyes landing on emily in the kitchen. you made your way over to her.

“happy birthday!” you embraced her in a hug, shoving her present into her hands.

“y/n thank you so much! let me get you a drink.”

she led you over to the drinks table, pointing to an array of wines. as she prepared you a glass, your eyes scanned the room.

“no point in looking for chris. he’s not here yet.”

you blushed, embarrassed at being caught. emily just laughed, handing you the glass.

“i’m making us all play some fun college games tonight. it’s time you and chris got together.”

you laughed, wondering what she was planning.

you spoke to a few of your friends, catching up on what had been going on in their lives.

“chris! hey you look great!”

you had your back turned to the door, but you knew by the sound of chris’ voice that he had just arrived. your palms started to turn a little sweaty.

pull yoursef together y/n, you thought to yourself.

you quickly finished your conversation, turning to find chris.

he was by the bar cart, grabbing a beer. he was wearing a white long sleeved t-shirt and some blue jeans. the t-shirt was insanely tight and left little to the imagination.

you inhaled deeply before walking towards him. he caught your eye before stepping towards you.

“y/n hey! long time no see!” his eyes lit up, embracing you in a huge hug.

you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. you shut your eyes for a moment, taking in the feeling of his body pressed against yours, his hands squeezing your hips slightly.

“how have you been?” you asked, leaning beside him on the counter.

“busy with work, i’ve been looking forward to this party for ages.”

your conversation flowed easily as he sipped his beer. he asked about your work and your family until a few other guests arrived.

throughout the rest of the evening, you mingled with your friends, sipping through a few glasses of wine.

the lounge was crowded with people, all chatting happily. you peeked at chris a few times, seeing him laugh at a joke emily’s husband was telling.

he caught your eye sometimes, smiling cheekily at you as he raised his sixth beer bottle of the night, poking his tongue out before swallowing the liquid.

you realised that the alcohol had reached his system around an hour later when you felt a pair of hands slide over your hips, soft lips kissing your ear. you were leaning elbow-first against the island in the kitchen, your back to everyone else.

you smiled to yourself before turning around, knowing that you would find yourself face to face with chris.

the feeling of his lips against your ear tickled, making you laugh. you spun yourself around, holding onto his biceps as his hands rested on the counter on each side of you.

“chris you are so drunk!”

he smirked, licking his lips. his eyes were incredibly dilated, his cheeks rosy.

“so...? i’m having fun.”

“i can tell...why have you taken a sudden interest in me then? had enough of everyone else?”

“well, everyone is super boring, and i haven’t spoken to you in a few hours. plus, i like talking to pretty girls like you.”

you laughed, moving your hands from his biceps to his chest.

“you have no filter when you’re drunk.”

he smiled, grabbing your hand in his.

“i need to go for a piss, come with me?”

“ugh chris, you sure do know how to impress a girl with that language.”

“so is that a no?” he pouted.

“i never said that.” you mumbled, making him smirk.

he grasped your hand tighter, pulling you upstairs towards the bathroom.

you fixed your hair in the mirror while chris relieved himself, laughing at him when he nearly fell over.

you stood to the side as he washed his hands, staring at him through the mirror.

once he had finished, he pulled you towards him, burying his face in your neck as he gripped your hips.

“god you smell so delicious.” he mumbled.

“so do you.” you smiled, running your hands through his hair.

“and you look gorgeous in that dress, it’s making me go crazy.”

you laughed, pulling chris’ face up so you could see his eyes.

“chris you would never say or do any of this if you were sober.”

“haven’t you ever heard of that saying? sober thoughts are drunk words. i can never bring myself to do this stuff when i’m sober, i get shy easily.” his eyes darted from yours for a second.

“well there’s no need for that, you must know by now that this thing we’ve got going on is mutual right?”

he laughed, nodding.

“i guess yeah, the things we do drunk you never mentioned afterwards so i just sort of put it to the back of my mind.”

“i never mentioned it because i know how shy you are when you’re sober.”

“okay well, we’ll talk about this later yeah? work something out.”

you smiled, pulling at his ears. “fine.”

he entwined his hand with yours again, pulling you out of the bathroom.

just as you walked out, emily came rushing up the stairs.

“guys! we’ve been looking everywhere for you...” she paused, looking at your hands suspiciously. “did you just have sex in my bathroom?” she smirked.

“no!” you said defensively.

chris just smirked.

“whatever...come down to the lounge, the foods here.”

you walked behind emily, swatting at chris’ hands when he tried to pinch your butt everytime you took a step down.

you grabbed yourself another glass of wine, silently watching as chris got himself another beer, he was going to have such a hangover tomorrow.

you went to sit yourself down at the table, but not before chris grabbed your waist, pulling you up.

“what are you doing?”

“i want you to sit with me.” he pouted.

“you’re such a simp.”

he laughed, not seeming bothered by your comment.

you sat next to him throughout dinner, using a single fork to feed yourself as chris had occupied himself with holding your left hand in his lap.

you smiled as you ate, hoping that tonight could be the night when he got over his fear of being embarrassed to show affection when sober.

everyone chatted through dinner, not bothered by you and chris being affectionate. they were used to it by now.

afterwards, emily ordered everyone to sit in a circle in the lounge. no one protested because they were all pretty much drunk, going along with the game.

chris pulled you into his lap, kissing your temple.

“you two, no sitting-in-laps allowed. not for this game anyway.”

you laughed, moving to sit next to chris. he wasn’t happy about the seating change, pulling you as close to him as he could.

“okay i’ve been reminiscing about the good old college days, so tonight we’re gonna play spin the bottle.”

some of the guests groaned, rolling their eyes.

you looked at chris, but he just winked at you.

emily placed one of the empty beer bottles in the middle of the circle, spinning it quickly.

you watched as it spun round, everyone silently waiting.

it landed on john, who was sitting across from you. the guests um’ed and ah’ed as john crawled into the middle of the circle, leaning over to give emily a quick peck.

emily laughed, clapping her hands. “okay! who’s next?”

it went on like that for a while, boys kissing girls, boys kissing boys and girls kissing girls.

when it got to your turn, it landed on brad, who was sitting near chris. you heard chris inhale deeply, making you smirk.

you reached over, giving brad a small peck whilst he smiled greedily at you. chris never let go of your hand, his grip tightening.

you sat back laughing a little at chris who looked like he was about to lose his shit in the next three seconds.

“chris, relax.” you kissed his cheek, shuffling closer to him.

“i fucking hate this game.” he mumbled in your ear, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“chris! stop being a dick and spin! it’s your turn.”

you laughed at the comment made by john. chris kept a straight face as he spun the bottle, his fingers tapping on your knee.

it landed on you. you felt everyone’s eyes on you as you looked up at chris, who was now smiling like an idiot.

your hand went to his cheek as he leaned in to capture your lips with his.

after the peck, you went to pull away but chris held the back of your neck firmly, kissing you harder.

you laughed in your head, kissing him back enthusiastically.

“okay guys...guys! get a room for god’s sake.”

you felt a pair of hands pull at your shoulders, pulling you and chris apart.

everyone was staring at you two, laughing hard. a rush of embarrassment washed over you and you blushed, looking over to chris.

he was still smiling, enjoying himself.

you tried to keep a straight face as you slapped chris’ chest softly, but he grabbed your hand and made you laugh.

“what? i saw an opportunity and took it.” he kissed your knuckles as you smiled.

a few more rounds were played, but you could see that chris was getting bored. to be honest, so were you, you wanted to get chris alone.

finally, a few people got up to leave as it was getting late. emily ordered a few taxis while pulling you to the side.

“you and chris can sleep here tonight if you want. i prepared the spare bedroom just in case. a few of us are hanging out in the lounge but the garden is free if you want some space.” she winked.

you laughed, thanking her for being so understanding.

“oh and by the way, i’m not letting you two back in the house until you sort yourselves out.”

you rolled your eyes, walking back over to chris who was waiting by the sofa.

he was still drunk, but less so. his eyes were bloodshot and he looked tired.

he stayed silent, pulling you in for a hug as you waved goodbye to the guests.

“emily said that we can sleep here tonight if you want? she prepared the spare bedroom.”

“that sounds like a great idea. i don’t think i’m sober enough to go home anyway.”

you laughed. “can we go and sit outside by the fire?”

chris nodded, pulling you towards the back doors.

the fireplace was already running, chris dragged a chair as close to it as possible, plumping up the pillows before lifting you effortlessly onto his lap.

you draped your legs over his thighs, resting your head on his chest.

“you’re quiet. what are you thinking about?” you questioned him, your fingers tapping his collarbone.

he laughed under his breath, sitting up straighter.

“i was just thinking about earlier. how you said that you feel the same. is that true?”

“chris, of course it’s true. do you really not see it?”

“well most of the time i just think that it’s because we’re drunk.”

“it’s not, i promise. the reason i only show affection at parties is because i know how difficult it is for you sober.”

he smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

you turned your head to look at him. “emily’s been trying to get us together ever since we met.”

“seriously?”

you laughed, running your hand along his abs, over his t-shirt.

“yeah, she’s obsessed with us.”

chris laughed, kissing the top of your head. the two of you fell silent for a few minutes.

you were relishing in the feeling of chris’ cheek pressed against the top of your head when he spoke again.

“so...what do you say we give it a try then? you know...“ he paused. “this whole relationship thing.”

you looked up at him, smiling. “mr evans...are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

he smirked. “maybe i am...do you accept?”

“yeah...yes i do. i would love to be your girlfriend.”

he started smiling widely, pulling you closer to him so he could reach your lips.

he pressed his lips against yours, his hand running up and down your back.

you smiled into the kiss, parting your lips a little to give him access.

he saw the opportunity and took it, pushing his tongue into your mouth to meet yours.

you pulled back after a while, breathing heavily.

“if i knew you could kiss like that i would’ve asked you out ages ago.”

you laughed, snuggling back down into his chest. you inhaled deeply, smiling to yourself as you eyes started to close.

tags: @before-we-get-started

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