#holding him between my teeth and shaking him like a rabid dog | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

summertimemusician · 3 months ago

Text

Linktober Shadow 2024, Day 1, Woods

Man I need to write for First more. Anyway! Another one done and polished, nice and soft and technically a continuation/missing scene from one of last year's one shots that I'm really glad to be able to finish and post. As always the reader pov is gender neutral (can lean either side to whoever is reading) and can be read as romantic or platonic and in or out of an LU context, though I am mainly writing for an hypothetical iteration of First in LU since he is not officially in the comic but a lot of people accept him as part of the official Chain (the author included), and really that's what we have aus for lol. (Also uh, possible TW{?}, just to be safe for those who are squeamish/can't handle graphic descriptions: OoT Dead Hand and it's lore is it's own warning and I do reference it. As always mind your safety and health dear readers. ) Enjoy your reading!

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

Long, pale, thin arms bend in shapes not meant for a human body, too many joints bend with sickly cracks, thin fingers adorned with elongated, winking crimson claws hook around your arms and legs, too many limbs that should not belong to a single being reanimated through a sickness of the world holding you in place with indomitable strength fueled only by rigor mortis and hunger no matter how hard you struggle. A stabbing pain upon your skull rips a howl from your throat, a sound better suited to a dying animal than a human being, in the corner of your eye you see the thing slowly slinking closer, once pale robes a mottled, dusty gray, bloodied from the life force of previous victims and fellow tortured souls.

You are a pinned butterfly upon a board, frozen with a primal terror as the claws lacerate through flesh digging, tearing like a rabid dog's teeth upon an unfortunate deer, the things wide, staring eyes meet yours from the top of an impossibly long neck barely supporting it's elongated head, instinctively your struggle renews itself. Gagging at the sickly sweet smell of rot and sick, the scent of metal thick in the air squeezes the breath from your lungs, a cocktail of desperation and helplessness flooding your entire system.

("H—")

It died starving, and hunger still settles over it's decaying features. A broken jaw contorts and twists in a cold, toothy mimicry of a human grin, grotesque and unnatural between the rotted gums and exposed teeth, burning it's stark, decaying and sunken features into your mind.

("—ong?")

The putrid corpse's too blunt, too human teeth sink into the hollow of your collarbone, tears through skin, rips through tendons, it cracks and grinds through bone and meat, something sinks into your pores and it burns. Something too thick to be saliva, closer to tar as it nests beneath your skin like an infection, eating you inside out and you scream and scream and scream-

"Wake up!"

Your eyes snap open as you bolt upright, a scream bitten down with practice from one too many nights traveling in a group haunted by the things called nightmares and insomnia from a life of fighting.

It's just you, the nightly whispering of the woods, the crackling of the fire and First.

The knight's stoic posture relaxes, softens a little, stern features creased as concern flickers through twin azure flames, the moonlight turning his hair the same shade as wheat fields in summer. "My apologies for waking you, I could not bear to watch the terrors interrupt your rest any for any longer."

You breathe in the sight of the hero, of the woods of Twilight's era with it's dark trees shedding honey and maple scales onto the ground as life went to slumber and the smell of birch and maple and hawthorn and attempt to quell your shaking. It's a futile effort, you're shivering from the late autumn breeze like as if the woods' leaves had taken a human shape, the memory of the empty eyes and a sunken skull and fine strands of human hair clinging to a decaying skull sinks it's claws into your mind. "There's no need. It was probably for the best." Your gaze drifts around the camp as you palm around for your quilt knocked over in your struggle, the firelight allows you to see the other boys, and you distractedly note your long dagger is right where you left it; it helps loosen the hold the hooks that night left on you, you swallow thickly. "Did I wake anyone up?"

First shakes his head, your shaking fingers meet fabric and your distracted mind is yanked back to reality when the motions of using it's warmth and weight as a shield against the world are already done.

It's not your quilt, painstakingly made with Malon's help and teachings inherited from Sun on one of the quieter moments you and the Chain had in each era since you've started traveling with them. A mark of friendship that served as a balm for difficult days.

(A little after Sun confirmed you were not a threat, to the relief of your cautious companions, a little before you had found First half delirious with duty not yet fulfilled and death stolen from a mortal body and blood loss and dragged him from the brink with meager medical knowledge and later back to the Chain on your back.)

It's First's cape, as red as the feathers of his and Sky's loftwings, soft and warm and carrying the scent of breezes through hylian fields and leather and metal.

There's a quirk to his generally stern, elegant countenance as you turn your shocked eyes to his, as amused and warm as he's allowed himself to be. First's hand falls over yours as you make to remove it, cautious and with as much care as a bird landing on someone's hand, you can't help but marvel a little at it, the part of you that would either jump for joy or break down into sobs from pride were you not so tired. First was the most distant of the Links, drifting just on the edges of the Chain, with a kind heart that had chunks ripped out both by cruel fate and still bled to this day; he could be cold, of course, but anyone could see how weariness had been carved into the lines of his being. A spirit made to never be broken but not never damaged, who never had a chance to heal.

"You need it more than me." He rumbles softly, insistently. You catch the glimpse of the discoloration on his wrists as his hands reach to readjust the scar, not unlike the tears marring your arms and your heart aches a little.

You've both come a long way.

You stop your motions with a small sigh and as soon as the knight is done, you pick up your discarded quilt, determined to return the favor. You know it's his turn to keep watch, as him, Warriors and Time generally swapped the second turn between themselves (much to your exasperation and the Chain's), but there's no reason he can't continue doing so comfortably.

"Join me? It's chilly and it's not like I'll be going back to sleep anytime soon." You offer, offering him the blanket in turn.

First tilts his head and gives you a look, it's a bad excuse, it's only mid autumn after all, the campfire, and you're both well aware that he's withstood worse than the fall winds between his imprisonment and crossing the skies atop Vermilion.

Still, he nods, the ghost of a smile clings to the edges of his face as he sits by you. Allowing you to wrap the quilt around his shoulders, facing the fire and the woods. "Of course."

You smile, it's a small thing of broken glass and haunted nights, but it's there.

Between the crisp, cool autumn air, the return of your smile, the one who unwittingly guided him back to his fellow heroes and the knowledge that he's not alone, that's more than enough for First.

The two of you spend the rest of the second watch quietly chatting, First about his time with his fellow knights, before the imprisonment, about Orville and the ballads and legends of his time, you trade him stories of your own home, myths and legends, tales and stories you've grown up hearing and reading in your childhood into your adulthood. At some point you drift closer together, his chin atop your head and your head on his shoulder.

It's peaceful.

Neither of you have nightmares that night.

(A gentle hand hesitantly finds it's way to your head, lighter than a feather, clothed in butterfly scales and diamond dust, it brushes softly through your hair. The pale figure smiles, careful fingers softly rest over First's sleeping face, and the being's eyes soften, clearer than the sky on a summer day, a hum leaves the pale entity's slender throat, and the world follows in symphony.

Content, She does not linger.

The wind through the trees sound like singing.)

#linked universe x reader #lu first x reader #linked universe first x reader #yes I refer to First's loftwing as Vermilion to differentiate from Sky's Crimson #I like to think it's an Epona situation. Same spirit technically different animal companion #since as we know there's no way Time's Epona can be Twilight's Epona or Wild's Epona #and we don't know how long Loftwings can live for since they're MIA by the time the rest of the series comes around #summer writes #summer writes linktober shadow 2024 #I have a lot of complicated emotions about Hylia #but that's not for this oneshot #and also not for a lore dump/rant in the tags lol

38 notes · View notes

cryopathiic-a · 1 year ago

Note

"What did you do?!"

The officer's keychain chimed harmoniously as they strut down to the holding cell. It was a quiet evening without further arrests, yet the man in the suited was colored in apprehension as he headed through the hallways and stood before the bars. The frugal cell housed three men; two cramped together in one corner. One of them was littered with tattoos and had a disheveled look about him, the other was lean and marked with a scar across the nose. Needless to say, both these faces were not the type one would wish to meet in some shady alley. They sat, aloof and withdrawn from the third and final detainee; a young man in his twenties, sitting upside down with long legs against the wall and bouncy blonde strands adorning seraphic features. He greeted the officer with a smile. There was a look exchanged between the cop and the others, before they reluctantly announced that he was free to go and to follow them.

" And don't try anything funny with me. " A murmur through grit teeth elicited momentary puzzlement from the young accused, short-lived as a bubbly squeal prevailed.

❝ Huh? Someone paid for me? Woah... and I haven't even used my phone-call yet! Oh well. ❞ Legs coiled, rolling over to stand up and dust his pants off with a cheerful grin. ❝ Eep- there we go. Thank the Gods; it was starting to get a little stuffy in here. No offense, guys. ❞ A placating hand waved away any potential complaints; though his cellmates almost sighed in relief when he was lead out the door and into the department reception, where his benefactor would be waiting. Who could this person be, that was so generous as to come to his aid at such a dire time? His fans hardly knew his whereabouts; the benefits of an online cult. So who would possibly have an interest in sparing him from the insufferable boredom of waiting for trial over something so meager as a driving violation?

They turned a corner into the main hall. And there, the familiar dread pooling in crimson; stern slit pupils cast an austere glare over their features— And Dōma squeals before simply shaking the officer's grip off and darting forth the second he's released from those bothersome cuffs; like a rabid dog that slipped free of its collar. Strong arms come crushing around the other, squeezing him in a bone-crushing hug. A human would have at least crackled under that grip. Whatever voguish polished shoes their master was sporting at the time would be part with the floor momentarily.

❝ —! Muzan-sama! You came for me! ❞ He'd be placed back down, gently this time. Some blue-vested men had turned their sights to the spectacle. Behind them, the appointed officer seemed hardly capable of swallowing an exasperated groan. His eyes almost seemed to plead the raven-haired stranger into taking this one with them. If it were within the detaining officers' power, they would have offered the stranger a discount, it seemed.

❝ Oh, it's just for a speeding ticket. ❞ All worries would be waved off. Dōma's human guise was flawless. Cosmetics had been used to bring some color to their face, their fangs were barely visible in the wide grin they flashed the other, the usual glow within polychromatic orbs dulled to a mundane hue. He looked young; and human. And it had the officers visibly questioning how such a frame could house that menace. ❝ No biggie— I was in a rush is all. Are we all clear with the paperwork and stuff? I'll pay you back before the end of the month, promise. ❞ His voice grew sweeter; honeyed and small, and placatingly cute. The Demon King was already owed a small fortune by this progeny. But Dōma always had an excuse - until he didn't.

❝ Hey, let me treat you to dinner in turn. Gosh, I'm starving. ❞ He almost sounded manic - and it was in front of the humans, too. If only they knew what kind of dinner he was after.

That cute girl cop behind the counter might be delectable, as a starter. And he just so happens to know when her night shifts are scheduled.

#♛ ¦ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇꜱ༺ answered #𝚅 𝟶4. ⟅ to swim in samsara again ⟆#calamxty #(( when there's people watching douma becomes like x100 times as obnoxious bc he has 'we are in public' shield ))

1 note · View note

ratmonky · 4 years ago

Text

Stranger Danger

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: non-con

AO3 Link

Don’t trust strangers on the internet.

Just like how they taught you not to walk off with someone you didn’t know, it was the first thing your parents lectured you about when you started using the family computer. Simple. Stay away from the people who tried to befriend you because they were probably out to get you.

That was why you were wary of making friends online when you first started using the computer, scared that someone might kidnap you through the screen.

Pfft, you had quite an imagination when you were little.

Your parents were also a little too paranoid, of course, you had to be careful on the internet as they told you but there was nothing wrong with making friends. The internet brought people of the same interests together and it helped many people like you who had a hard time making friends start talking to others. Especially with helping you find many sorcerer students like yourself.

You had many friends now, some you video chatted and some you even had met in person.

Today, you were going to meet another one of your friends in person. Another sorcerer college student around the same age as you. You had met Kokichi on one of those sorcerer dating websites and instantly hit it off from the moment you had met before becoming more than friends.

Although his webcam never worked or how he was always out of breath while talking to you, it didn’t stop the two of you from falling in love.

Kokichi lived in Kyoto, far away from where you lived, and trying to manage a long-distance relationship was hard. That was why he had suggested that the two of you met in Kyoto and tried to see if you felt the same about him after meeting in person. If you liked him even after meeting him in person, then your relationship could progress into something more.

You blushed thinking about moving in with him. Ahh, wouldn’t that be wonderful!

Shaking your head you tried to stop yourself from daydreaming and park your car where Kokichi had told you to. Apparently, the parking rules in Kyoto were different than in your city, you had to find a parking lot almost far outside of the city so you wouldn’t get a ticket.

It took you two hours to get here using the highway. Although you would have rather taken the train or bus, it was a lot faster to drive. It took you another fifteen minutes to get to your meeting point with him after you took a taxi.

Kokichi didn’t pick up his phone. You had been trying to reach him since this evening. You weren’t sure if he was already standing next to the alley of the bar your cab driver dropped you off a little while ago or if he was late.

Sick of waiting, you took out your pack of cigarettes and walked deeper into the alley to check. After taking a cigarette out and putting it between your lips, you lit the tip, inhaling deeply.

You were going to scold him for making you wait. A laugh escaped you at the thought of Kokichi telling you how he had explained to you that he was taking the train and it would be slower than you driving here or something along those lines.

Well, it would be a nice icebreaker.

While you were busy smoking and lost in your thoughts, sharp pain to the side of your head made you stumble forward. You dropped your cigarette and before you knew it your knees gave up under you, making you crumple to the ground as your vision went dark.

~~~

You froze. Not wanting to move or open your eyes until you could recall what had happened.

There were faint sounds of grunting. The next thing you noticed was the smell. Earthy, cold, and coppery. You tried to identify the foreign smell as you become aware of the tingling from between your legs. It had started to hurt, your hips felt sore and your eyelids felt heavier than usual.

The grunting sounds were soft and you could easily recognize the other sounds aside from it. It was like gears moving, a machine, closer to the sounds your door made when it wasn’t oiled up well, creaking and kinda ringing...

You had probably left the television on, slowly, you opened your eyes.

All you saw was dark, your back felt cold against something metallic. Your back was being roughly rubbed against your metal. What? It was hard for you to understand what was going on. With a pathetic attempt to move your legs, you only felt them being held tightly. There were splashing sounds, your ass was splashing against water. Tears started streaming down your face. you still couldn’t comprehend what was happening but you could feel it. You started to panic as the sudden realization of something thick and firm moving hastily inside you hit you hard.

Opening your eyes, you stared at a man in bandages who was kneading the soft flesh of one of your breasts, his mouth on the other, sucking your nipple in his mouth. You felt his hot tongue swirl around your nipple and an involuntary moan left your lips.

The sharp smell of the medical liquid made you nauseous as you remembered what had happened. But you had to stay calm and try to understand where you were.

You began to panic, trying to move your muscles but you could barely move. Strained, fear of the darkness drove you to move your limbs slightly. You threw your head back in shame and noticed the robot that was holding you instead of looking at the man inside the bathtub of medical liquid. Finally having your mind schooled back online, you started to notice your surroundings. First of all, you were in a cave-like place, being held by a robot by the back of your knees and the robot was moving you up and down on this man’s-

Another moan left your lips when the man’s cock hit a good spot. Glaring at the man, you tried moving your arms that hung slack by your sides but your limbs were weaker than you had realized. Your legs wouldn’t move either, your entire body felt sore.

There was nothing you could do as the robot lowered you up and on this man’s cock other than try to understand what had happened.

You stayed limp in the robot’s arms and took it as your assaulter kept furiously fucking you like a rabid dog in heat with the help of the robot. While the robot lowered you onto his cock and leaned forward for a second, you felt his hand reach to the back of your head and pull you down forcefully to crash your lips against yours as he used the same hand to run his fingers through your hair. He let out a quiet groan into the kiss and lolled out his tongue to lick your face, leaving a trail of his drool that chilled your skin. His hand in your hair crept between your bodies and he flicked a finger on your clit.

Jolting, you bit back a moan.

“The pictures on your profile didn’t do you any justice,” he spoke, planting kisses on your chest. “You’re so much prettier in person.”

Out of a sudden, it clicked.

“Kokichi?” His name broke into a moan as the robot slammed you down onto his cock. The robot was still bouncing you on his cock but to him, it wasn’t enough, he needed more. He had to feel more of you.

The robot dropped you in the bathtub, on top of Kokichi with his cock deep inside you. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck so you wouldn’t sink deeper into the bathtub. The medical liquid inside was cold, it made you shiver but Kokichi’s body was warm. He wrapped his arm around you and pressed his face into the crook of your neck.

“I can’t move my lower body without Mechamaru, I need you to comply.” His tone was impatient, the arm around you was trying to guide you to move your hips.

A grunt left you from the massive effort it took just to move your arm. Finally, you managed to move your arms, although it was heavy and almost impossible, luckily you succeeded. You shook your head, weakly pushing him away from yourself but as tiny, the bathtub was you didn’t have much space. Kokichi wasn’t going to let you move away from him either, he suddenly grabbed you and pulled you back, the liquid inside splashed from the force.

He groaned and you saw Mechamaru move again. The robot’s hands grabbed you from under your armpits, lifting you up and pushing you down onto Kokichi. He had his arm around you, moving your hips freely as he wanted since your weight had lightened thanks to his robot.

Your gummy walls clenched around his cock as you squirmed uselessly. He was breathing slowly and evenly while he carefully pulled you down for another sloppy kiss, paying no attention to your whimpers or the tears streaming down your face.

“You look so erotic when you cry,” he grunted, his hand moving to squeeze your cheeks together until your lips puckered. “Makes me wanna ruin you.”

You glared at him through your tears as he licked your tears that had streamed down to your cheeks before kissing you hungrily. He was inexperienced, you could tell from the way your teeth clashed and how desperately he tried to snake his tongue down your throat for no reason.

Mechamaru started frantically bouncing you on Kokichi’s cock, taking you by surprise. The irregular pace was gone, now, he was fucking you frenziedly, making sure that your gummy walls took the shape of his cock. After a particular spot his cock stroked, your pussy squeezed around him, causing you to moan into the kiss.

He broke the kiss, groaned loudly as your gummy walls started spasming around his cock. His bandaged hand went to grab your hip tightly to move you on his cock forcibly.

Medical fluid splashed and splattered on the ground each time you slammed yourself on his cock frantically with Mechamaru’s help.

You gasped in pleasure, your body was getting aroused. He must have noticed it because a smug grin spread on his lips before Mechamaru pounded you on Kokichi’s throbbing cock.

The knot of pleasure building in your gut quickly took over your senses, your gummy walls clenched around his cock and your muscles inside started pulsating.

Kokichi was caught off guard by your cunt trying to milk him for all he was worth. His cock twitched inside you as he lost control of Mechamaru who abruptly dropped you onto his cock. With a wanton moan, you wrapped your arms wrapped around him to balance yourself. His cock throbbed inside your pussy and thick spurts of cum burst inside your womb.

It continued coming out until you felt it overflow. As if he had been saving everything he got for this moment.

You went limp on his lap with his arm barely holding you up. Still, Kokichi managed to press a kiss against your temple, silently promising to keep you safe from the strangers on the internet from now on.

Or rather, he wanted to keep you for himself. Kokichi, as someone who had grown up on the internet, was desensitized to many things. He had no idea how women worked and most of the things he had learned about sex were from hardcore porn. Sometimes from even a more disturbing genre of porn. Having you here with him was something he had planned for a long time. He had been patient, patient, and patient. There was no way he was going to let you go. No, not when he finally had a taste of you. He wasn’t going to be only an internet friend or someone you met online who you got to be more than friends. He was going to be something a lot more than that. Perhaps, a boyfriend. Yeah, that had a nice ring to it.

One thing was for sure, the two of you weren’t going to be in a long-distance relationship anymore.

#mechamaru x reader #kokichi muta x reader

299 notes · View notes

jungshookz · 4 years ago

Text

🧦 stocking stuffers: taehyung’s good at hiding presents and y/n’s bad at finding them

pairing; roommate!taehyung x reader

genre; sfw!! feat. the usual antics because roommate!tae and y/n are both clowns (also there’s a reference from the fic in here.,., if u kno u kno)

what to expect; “i’ll make-out with you for five minutes straight if you tell me where you’ve hidden them.”

wordcount; 1.5k

»»————-　🎁　————-««

“hey, i could get used to this view.” taehyung whistles lowly as he pushes his bedroom door open, his gaze immediately falling to your ass that’s sticking up in the air

he’s been looking all over the apartment for you for the past twenty minutes

(the only reason why it took him twenty minutes was because he went on a mandatory snack break when he went to the kitchen to replenish his energy from the exertion of looking for you)

“-!” you yelp when you knock the top of your head against the base of the bed, quickly bringing a hand up to press against the sore spot, “tae! ...there you are! i was, uh, looking all over for you!”

“and the first place you thought to look was under my bed?” he asks, leaning against the frame of the door and shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants

“well, it’s... it’s pretty spacious down here, so...” you swipe your arm underneath the bed to emphasize your point, “you could totally fit under here-”

“are you-”

“no, i’m not!” you chuckle nervously, getting up onto your feet before dusting your hands off, “no. i’m not.” you repeat, lowering your voice by a couple octaves

taehyung blinks

“i didn’t even finish asking the question.”

“well, whatever your question was, my answer is no, i’m not.” you clear your throat, leaning over a little to pull up the corner taehyung’s blanket a little bit before shooting him a sheepish smile

(you ripped it off the bed when you barged in like a rabid dog because you were positive that your presents were hiding underneath the sheets - unsurprisingly, they weren’t.)

“i wasn’t doing anything!” you cross your arms defensively, “that’s my point.”

“you’re acting like you just murdered someone and now you’re just trying to hide the body.” taehyung points out before his eyes widen slightly, “you… you didn’t murder-”

“no, i didn’t murder anyone, dumbass,” you snort, “i was just… cleaning up a little bit! you know how dusty it gets in this apartment…” you sigh, slowly stepping towards taehyung while nodding slowly, “it’s, uh… it’s pretty clean in here! i have to say you’ve done a pretty good job at dusti-“

“if you’re looking for your presents, you’re definitely not going to find them in here-“

“then where else would you be hiding them!?” you blurt out, electricity zinging up your spine as you stand up straight

taehyung laughs lightly before shaking his head and turning on his heel, “do you actually think i’m dumb enough to keep presents hidden under my bed? this isn’t my first rodeo, cowgirl-”

he used to do secret santa with his roommates back when he still lived at the frat house and he learned to hide presents very well because boys are much more aggressive when it comes to tearing a place apart to look for something

one time he came home to see that the entire couch had been flipped over and cut open (with its stuffing strewn everywhere) which wasn’t a very pleasant surprise

that was a nice couch!

so if you really thought he was hiding his presents underneath his bed... you must be insane!

“well... i already put my presents for you underneath the tree!” you whine, clinging to taehyung from behind as the two of you make your way down the hallway and out to the living room, “why can’t you put yours out?”

“i have self-control, so i haven’t even thought about touching or shaking any of the packages underneath the tree,” taehyung teases, “plus, you put them out here on your own accord! i certainly didn’t force you to-”

“but it’s not fAIR-!” you whine, burrowing your face in between taehyung’s shoulder blades as your arms tighten around his torso, “it’s so not fair...”

taehyung hums in response, reaching down to give the top of your folded hands a loving pat

you can cry about it all day long but it’s not going to change his mind or make him give in

...also, are you going to cling to him like this all day?

because if you are, you guys will probably run into some issues when he eventually has to use the washroom-

“i’ll make-out with you for five minutes straight if you tell me where you’ve hidden them.” you perk up, propping your chin up onto tae’s shoulder

“you think a measly five minute make-out session is going to tempt- how old do you think we are?? thirteen??” taehyung scoffs, turning his head slightly so he can kind of look at you, “nice try.”

“what about a handjob?”

“hm, getting warmer-” taehyung jokes as he walks towards the kitchen, reaching down to try to prY you off of him

“blowjob???” you’re more desperate now as you trail behind him, taehyung letting out a laugh at how needy you’re acting, “sex! i’ll give you the full package!”

the two of you step into the kitchen, taehyung making his way to the fridge for another snack

he thinks he deserves an award of some kind for finding you

and a nice, crisp bowl of cereal sounds good to him right now

“what do you want?? you wanna put a leash on me?? tie me up??” you slap your hands down on the kitchen island as you watch taehyung grab the milk from the fridge, “blindfold me! use ice cubes-”

“hold on, wait-” taehyung spins around, his eyes widening in concern as he holds up a finger, “did you hear that?”

“huh?” you tilt your head curiously before looking around the kitchen, “hear wha-”

“hello! this is kim taehyung headquarters, you’re speaking to secretary kim. how may i be of service today?” taehyung chirps, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a bright smile

oh god

oh god please

please nO

“don’t do this to me.” you whisper, shaking your head slowly, “do not make me do this again-”

“i’m sorry, miss.” tae hums, closing the fridge door, “could you speak up? i’m afraid i can’t hear you...”

you slump down against the counter, turning your head and squishing your cheek against the cool surface as you give in, “...i would like to file a complaint about kim taehyung to the kim taehyung complaint department.”

taehyung grins at the sight of you completely giving up, “great! can i get a name?”

“y/n y/l/n.” you mumble, feeling an immense wave of deja vu rush over you

this sucks

everything sucks

“alright, miss y/l/n.” taehyung smiles to himself as he pulls the drawers open for a spoon, “i’ll connect you to the kim taehyung complaint department right now. i’m going to put you on hold now, if you wouldn’t mind waiting?”

“you know, i would mind,” you get up from the counter before propping your chin up on your palm, “but i don’t think you really care-”

taehyung cuts you off as he starts to hum an overly cheerful version of twinkle twinkle little star, his head bopping along to the beat as he pours milk into his bowl

you continue to glare at him as your eyebrows knit together in frustration

unbelievable

you’re dating an idiot

why are you playing along with this???

again???

“hello!” taehyung’s head suddenly shoots up, “this is the kim taehyung complaint department of kim taehyung headquarters. you’re speaking to head manager kim taehyung. how may i be of service today?”

you poke your tongue against the side of your cheek as you think about your response

you knoW that as soon as you say something, he’s going to cut you off

...

you’re not going to let him win this time

this time, you’re going to be the one who gets the last word in!

you push yourself up off the counter before crossing your arms, taehyung looking at you expectantly

“this is... miss y/l/n that i’m speaking to, correct? i was told that you had a complaint to make?”

you give tae a half-hearted shrug in response

taehyung nods to himself in understanding

so that’s how you’re going to do this?

you think you’re going to beat him at his own game?

“i’m sorry, am i correct in saying that your complaint had something to do with christmas presents?” taehyung purses his lips in thought, “because i’d be more than happy to help you find them-”

“woah, woah, okay-!” the smug grin falls from your face as you start bouncing up and down on your heels excitedly, “YES please tell me where i can-”

“oOh, sorry!” taehyung winces, sucking in air through his gritted teeth, “my snack break just started. you know how it is.” he pouts, bringing a spoonful of cereal up to his mouth before taking a bite

mm!

hits the spot :’)

“are you fu-”

“pheavse pheel phree to call again la-er-!” he murmurs through a mouthful of cheerios, milk dribbling down his chin

“oh, you’re disgusting-” you scoff, rolling your eyes before turning on your heel to exit the kitchen, “and your lame kim taehyung headquarters bit is so not funny-!”

❄️christmas with cee 2020 masterlist 🎄

526 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 4 years ago

Note

half-spider half-human yandere with a darling who has arachnophobia

I think I’ve just been in a Yandere!Monster mood this week - I don’t know how else to explain what I’ve been posting, recently. Can you blame me, though? They’re so easy to run from, so easy to be afraid of… It’s only natural that they make good Yanderes.

Title: Arachnophobia.

TW: Spiders, Dehumanization, Mentions of Injury, and Mentions of Death.

It’d always been the legs, for you.

You weren’t squeamish. If it hadn’t been for the legs, you wouldn’t mind spiders at all. The uncharacteristic fuzz that coated their bodies, those unblinking eyes that were too big and too small at the same time, their distorted proportions and awful fangs and general wrongness, you could take all of that, even if you didn’t care for it. Their legs were the only thing that got to you, the only thing that made you fear the tiny, harmless creatures beyond all reason. You weren’t blind, you knew there were much worse things to be scared of, and yet, nothing sent a chill up your spine like the thought of an insect no bigger than your thumb crawling up the back of your leg or finding its way into your hair, its steps so light and silent, you wouldn’t know its there, not until it’s already made its fangs at home under your skin. It’s irrational, or, it was irrational, at least. It used to be.

Ikto wasn’t harmless. You didn’t have to tell yourself not to be afraid of him.

If anything, you should be more afraid than you’ve ever been. It wasn’t like he hadn’t given you a reason to be.

You cried out as you collapsed, the noise somewhere between a defeated sigh and a desperate scream, too quiet to do you any good but too loud to go unnoticed in the stillness of the darkened forest. It’d been childish to go into the woods alone, it’d been stupid, and you’d known that when you came up with the idea. Still, you hadn’t thought it’d been stupid enough to get you killed. The legends told of a creature who spun web like rope, who could string up a group of hunters in translucent silk so quickly, they wouldn’t have time to notice they were being trapped, not before it was too late to get away. You weren’t a hunter, though, and you didn’t mean him any harm. You’d told yourself that a glimpse would be enough for you to overcome your fear, all you needed to do was look at him, and you’d never think twice about the spiders in your garden or the dark corners of your home again. But, you’d tripped, made a mistake, stepped on the wrong branch at the wrong time and earned a throbbing ankle and the attention of a monster for your efforts. It was so hard to navigate through cobwebs when you were running. It was so hard to navigate at all when you were crying.

And, as you collapsed to the dirt, weak sobs still racking over your chest as pain shot from your heel to your knee like hot trails of pure fire, you began to wish he’d just killed you when you interrupted his meal. That would’ve been kinder than letting you think you might’ve had a chance.

After a moment, you forced yourself to grit your teeth, moving to push yourself up, but it was already a moment too late. Without warning, without sound, something tapered and unyielding dug into the space between your shoulder blades, pushing you flat against the ground and giving you a minute to fight back, only pulling away then you failed to struggle against its strength. You already knew what it was, what it had to be, but you still found yourself holding back a gasp as you were unceremoniously dragged onto your back, clenching your eyes shut in an effort to delay the inevitable. It was an exercise in futility, but you didn’t open them again.

Not until something soft and familiar brushed against your cheek, and your entire body jerked up involuntarily. You had to fight not to scream, the awareness of just how dead you were making the pangs of your injury pale, in comparison.

If Ikto had any intention of making your slaughter swift, though, you couldn’t tell. He simply towered above you, watching with four pairs of eyes as you scrambled back, using what was less of your courage to put an arm’s length of distance between you and your hunter. You had to wonder why you’d ever thought you stood a chance against him. Standing, you would’ve only come to his waist, to the junction where his grey, thick flesh faded into a black exoskeleton, so sleek and so impenetrable, you knew the tiny dagger you’d brought for your protection would be useless before it was even in your hand. You could barely see his face, but you didn’t have to. Everything, from the mocking tilt of his head to the way his shoulders tensed and bounced upward in a stifled laugh, made his amusement clear. His tone did little to aid your blossoming humiliation, the heavy drawl only making you bow your head, your fear nearly overpowered by misplaced embarrassment. “I thought you’d be faster, human.”

You bit the side of your tongue, but you were speaking before you could stop yourself. More to quell your own nerves than to get on his. “I thought you’d be a better hunter, beast.”

That earned a breath of a chuckle, so airy and so dry, you might’ve missed it if he had anything to compete with. Unfortunately, no animals skittered from tree to tree to distract you, no birds sang to divert your attention. You couldn’t blame the woodland creatures for making themselves scarce. You’d avoid Ikto too, if you had a choice. “Awfully brave for someone who just stumbled into my web,” He started, bringing a hand - a human hand, thankfully - up to his chest, pouting in an exaggerated show of his offense. Despite his size, he moved soundlessly, stepping between dead leaves and over obstacles in a slow, seamless circle around you as he continued. Evaluating you, only speaking to keep himself entertained. “I was having such a nice night, too. No heroes come to slay me, no champions shouting to face me to prove their worth, no interruptions. Just me and my prey.” This time, you got a sigh. A shake of his head. A step too close, a spindly leg coming just a breath too near, leaving you shaking and digging your nails into the dirt, trembling as he looked on. “And then you came along and ruined it.”

“I’m lost.” The lie was spat hastily, forced out too quickly to be believable. This time, when he edged closer, you brought your knees up to your chest, curling into yourself defensively. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I don’t want to be here, I’m just… I can’t find my way home. I don’t know what to do. If you let me go--”

“If I let you go, you’ll get stuck in one of my webs and I’ll find you weeks later, starved and dehydrated and begging for my help.” He paused, pursing his lips, settling in front of you. When he crouched, his knees bending into jagged points and his arachnid stomach nearly brushing against the ground, you went tense, but you didn’t dare to move. You didn’t dare to look at him. You didn’t dare to think, not when it felt like he was prying into your mind a little more with every second he spent staring you down. “It might be nice. I’ve never heard someone plead for my help rather than my mercy. I try not to play with my food, but I wasn’t expecting something so small and so tempting to stumble into my territory. Certainly not something with the nerve to expect me to believe such a boring excuse.” A growl seemed to edge its way into his voice, absent of the primal reverberation it should’ve contained, full of something manufactured, painfully learned. You might’ve felt sorry for him, if he hadn’t been close enough for you to see the dozens of harsh, pointed teeth that prevented him from bridging the gap. “Are you that eager to get this over with, human? Do you want to die?”

You didn’t hesitate, shaking your head furiously as his smile returned. Unconsciously, your fingers twitched, ready to search the satchel strapped to your side for any weapon you could find, but in the blink of an eye, the burlap sack was speared through, flicked to the side with little more than a tear of fabric and the rattle of its content. “Please, I didn’t mean to--”

“I’ll compromise.” Again, he cut you off, standing to his full height, taking your wrist as he did so and dragging you to your feet, his grip not loosening when you winced, attempting to favor the foot that wasn’t trying to detach itself from your body. “I won’t kill you. I’ll take you back to my den, make sure you’re attended to, but you have to come with me willingly. Say you’ll behave, and I’ll make sure you don’t have to limp your way into the loving jaws of the nearest wolf.”

You didn’t respond, but you flinched, and that was enough of an answer for Ikto. With a sharp, sudden pull, you were off of your feet entirely, dragged against him and held there with one arm, his free hand pressing against the back of your head, encouraging you to lean into him, to be affectionate. You wanted to push yourself away, to tell him you didn’t need his pity, that you’d rather take your chances with the most rabid of dogs than with try your luck with him, but your ankle pulsed and your body ached and you needed his help more than you wanted not to. And when Ikto began to walk, when you caught a glimpse of a long, inhumane leg moving easily over the uneven terrain, you weren’t sure if you could even move.

You weren’t sure if running was an option, not if he’d be the one chasing you.

“It gets lonely, occasionally,” He admitted, his voice so soft, you almost didn’t hear him. You almost wished you hadn’t been listening, by the time he thought to go on.

“And I’ve always liked the idea of keeping a pet.”

1K notes · View notes

missroserose · 4 years ago

Text

if you want it, got to bleed for it, baby

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

or read on AO3

groove to the playlist

ngl, tax season is eating my face. but I couldn't go much longer without writing a little more smutty angst for these two. hope y'all enjoy.

Have I mentioned how amazing @anarchist-billy is? Thanks for betaing, love. <3

“Stay with me.” Billy’s voice is low, urgent, a lifeline. “Keep the pressure on.”

Steve is there, in the passenger seat of the car, holding a wad of paper towels to the gash in his belly—and Steve is the car, too—he feels the warm gold-red glow of the bonfire, demodog corpses and dead vines disappearing into invisible smoke, fading all too quickly from the rear view mirror. The bass note of the BMW’s V8 thrums deep in his chest, hurtling towards Hawkins at near-lethal speed. The cool night air roars in his ears as Billy redlines it—he can feel Billy, too, the atavistic satisfaction of driving this amazing machine, of pressing it to its limits—

The fire disappears, and the outside world is nothing but a dark blur. No streetlights, no trees, nothing to indicate it even exists. Even their movement fades into a queer sense of unmotion, a bubble of existence floating in the endless void. The glow of the dashboard lights on Billy’s expression, drawn and set. The rumble of the car, rearing to meet the challenge. The just-warm air blasting from the heater. Van Halen on the radio, staticky signal fading in and out over the road and wind noise. I been to the edge, and there I stood and looked down—

“We’re nearly there. Harrington. Hold on a little longer.”

Billy’s lying through his teeth. Steve knows he’s lying; he’s driven this road any number of times since he got his license. Floored the gas, the same way Billy’s doing now, felt his car eat up the thirty-eight miles of two-lane blacktop, straightaway snaking between forest and farmland. Rolled down the windows and whooped, Tommy in the passenger seat, Carol and whatever girl Steve was seeing that week in the back, all of them chasing the horizon at breakneck speeds. Not for jubilation, or anger, or any reason in particular; just...because they were bored. Because they could—because they were young and free and would live forever, would be friends forever—

“What’s the rush?” Steve has to almost issue a conscious order to make himself smile, like he’s giving his face instructions over a long-distance phone call. “I’m the King. They’ll wait for me.”

Billy doesn’t look at him—can’t, at the speeds he’s driving—but his shoulders seem to loosen a fraction. “Guess that depends,” he says, threadbare bravado thin at the edges. “You don’t make it, there’s only one king left. Makes my life awful easy.”

Beer spilled down a bare chest. Red punch on a white blouse. Bullshit. Tea roses and spunk and sweat and blue eyes on his in the bathroom mirror. “Maybe it does,” Steve says, trying not to let his words run together the way his thoughts are doing. “But that’s not what you want.”

There’s a gap opening up, a space between the two of them; it takes Steve a moment to notice the knuckles, tense on the steering wheel. Billy opens his mouth, says something; a moment later, the words unfurl in Steve’s consciousness, time-delayed. “Like anyone gives a shit about what I want.”

Steve laughs a little, at that. “That’s the first lesson of being king, Hargrove.” He swallows, with some difficulty; his throat feels thick. “You’re not there for you. Every fool who wants a favor, every damsel in distress, every asshole determined to get a piece of King Billy…” He trails off, seeing a crown amidst those golden curls in a bathroom mirror, set over heated blue eyes, lips parting in a look of mingled awe and desire—

“Hey. Hey! Harrington!” Billy’s slapping at his face, one hand flapping ineffectually against his skin, just hard enough to force his consciousness to surface. Steve doesn’t particularly want to surface; there’s something looming there, not terror, but a shadow of it, a formless dread. Like the first time his parents had gone out of town, and he hadn’t been smart enough to put the breakables away before he threw the obligatory kegger. He’d spent three days waiting for his mother to return and discover one of her Hummel figurines missing, only to have her so preoccupied with his father’s latest fling that she’d left before noticing—

“Don’t you dare.” Billy’s voice is a growl, but there’s something beneath it that catches Steve’s unmoored attention. “Steve. Don’t you fucking dare die on me now. You ruined my night, you pulled me out here to chase down God knows what those rabid alien dog-things were, you’re going to pull through this and you’re going to give me a fucking explanation—”

Steve gives a small laugh, even though it hurts like a bitch. “I’m really fucked, aren’t I?”

Billy bites off his rant like a piece of taffy. “What?”

Steve issues the order to smile again, feels his face sort-of obey. “You called me Steve. It must be bad.”

“Not that bad,” Billy says, almost believable, as if he can change the state of the world through sheer stubborn insistence. “You’re gonna pull through this. You’ve got to. When the school hears about how I saved your ass? It’s gonna be a riot, Harrington.”

Steve could almost laugh again, but it hurts too much. With an effort, he diverts his reaction, reaches for bitterness instead, bile like he’s swallowing down in the back of his throat. The school. Graduation. The future. A dark unknown, filled with people whose eyes slide away from his, in respect or in contempt—“You’ve already had my ass. What do you care about the rest?” The gap between them is opening up again. Steve has a mental image for a moment of trying to leap that gap, of hanging in the air over it for a beautiful moment—wonders if people would see him then, shining golden before the inevitable plummet to the nothingness below—

But Billy’s voice is stubborn, penetrating. “Did you hit your head when that alien tackled you? Of course I want the rest. The way you swung that bat? Waded into that fight without a damn hitch?” Billy’s voice cracks a little, in disbelief, or in awe. “That’s King Steve. Not that namby-pamby asshole who haunts the hallways at school.”

And something in that voice pulls Steve towards the looming terror, away from the peaceful dark. He presses the paper towels harder to his gut, ignores the sharp pain this elicits. “Didn’t think you were looking for a king, Hargrove.”

A pause, brief and endless. Steve slips a little, tossed about in stormy waves, uncertain which way to the shore, uncertain which way is up—

Then Billy’s voice comes in, low and smoky, a beam from a lighthouse parting the dark. “I jerk off at night thinking about your lips on me.” Steve’s suddenly aware of his lips as they part slightly, but Billy’s continuing, words gushing from him like water from a burst pipe. “I haven’t bent you over your kitchen counter yet. Haven’t felt your cock twitch between my lips as you come down my throat—”

The words are gathering somewhere deep in Steve’s hips, insistent warmth, flickering but stubborn in the face of the terror. The words fall into his mind, and he drops them without thought, uncaring, because who even cares at this point? “I want to fuck you in my bed.”

A breath sucked between teeth. A glance, briefly risked, at Steve’s face, as if gauging his seriousness. “You want it in a bed, pretty boy?”

“I want you. In my bed.” The paper towels are growing wet between his fingers. “Empty house. Nobody to hear us slam the headboard against the wall.” He presses a little harder; the lance of pain stabs through him, but the image in his mind is bright as he gives a half-wrecked gasp.

Billy seems to shudder at that gasp. “Hell yes,” he says, seeming to almost relax for a moment. “Gonna hear you good and proper as you come—”

“Gonna feel you under me when I do,” Steve says, words tumbling forward heedless, headlong. “Billy. You’re gonna feel me inside you as you shake apart. Gonna walk around the next day still feeling it, and I’m gonna watch you—”

“Fuck—” Billy’s grip is white against the steering wheel now, fingers torqued tight. “Steve,” he says, his voice rough. “Promise me something.”

“Sure.” The words are fading, growing further away, but Steve struggles, holds his head up. Tries to read Billy’s expression, the hesitation in his voice. “If I can.”

“Next time we see each other, it’s just you.” Billy licks his lips. “Just you and me. No kids, no party, no—nothing. We’ll tear the phone out of the wall if we have to. Just...just us.”

Steve reaches for a careless smile. Ignores the sudden empty fluttering in his chest. Isn’t certain if he manages either. “Gotta settle up who’s king for good and all, huh?”

“Yeah.” Billy settles back into the seat, though tension still thrums through his body with the engine. Overhead, the first of the streetlights flashes by, briefly illuminating his face, determined, desperate. “Yeah, something like that.”

#harringrove #my writing #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #too young to fall in love #lemon

36 notes · View notes

mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

Text

Say You’ll Stay - Chapter 7

Fury/Band of Brothers Crossover Fic

We finally meet up with Easy Company!

Tag List: @happyveday @alwaysindecemberfeels @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @saritanotserena

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

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

The morning arrived with a slight fog, bringing a sense of otherworldliness with it. As if ghosts stood along the tree line just watching and waiting in complete silence. Everyone moved with shifty feet and wary eyes, voices staying low. The starting of engines only exasperated the stillness around them. It had been decided, with so many men killed and wounded in the company, the whole group would travel to Haguenau. From there the wounded could be evacuated to a hospital and hopefully replacements sent for those lost.

Anna wandered around the tanks, checking in with the other medics and just trying to stay warm. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to keep the wintery cold at bay. A coat taken off a soldier, who no longer needed it, now covered her filthy nurse’s uniform. She tried not to think about wearing a dead man's coat, rather imaging it was a spare. Her legs were still exposed to the elements from the knees down to her short uniform boots, making it impossible to fully warm up as she walked around.

"Mount up! Let's go!" The call echoed around from several different mouths, stilling the nervous restlessness hanging over the company.

The wounded were placed on the tanks to ride since they did not have a truck to transport them anymore. Besides the officers and those in the armored division, all the foot soldiers were forced to continue walking. Not a perfect solution but it was all they afford to do right now. Hopefully they could escape another surprise attack.

Ignoring those around her, she made her way towards Fury. Both to keep an eye on the wounded laying or sitting on the tank but to also stick close to the tank's crew. She had woken up that morning, still huddled against Boyd's side, wrapped in Don's leather jacket and the spare blanket from Gordo. They shared what breakfast they could with her before she had to head off and start rounds. Medic Arthur Christianson had taken over lead medic from Joe Hunter. A blow they all felt but this was war and you just learned to keep moving. The two other medics had been courteous enough to her from the beginning so it was not too much of a hardship to work with them.

Each medic had chosen a tank to walk next to and keep an eye on its wounded. She had immediately claimed Fury.

"Anna!"

Looking up, she noticed Boyd staring down at her from his spot on the tank.

"What you doin' down there?"

She glanced around then stared back at him. "Walking." She stated with a casual shrug, not understanding what he was getting at.

Grady chuckled from his spot next to Boyd. Smoke curled around his mouth as he exhaled, the cigarette still between his teeth.

Boyd rolled his eyes with a deadpan expression. "I see that. Thank you. Why ain't you riding?"

"Only wounded are riding. I'm fine, Boyd. I don't mind walking." She tried to assure him, a small smile on her face. Hopefully that masked how cold she actually was and the agitated nerves humming throughout her body. She walked a little further towards the front of the tank. Fury only carried five wounded, spread out along its sides. Stopping at a young soldier with a bandage around his head, she touched his leg to gain his attention. "How are you feeling?"

The brunet opened his eyes, looking down at her from where he reclined on the tank. A shy smile crossed his lips. "My head ain't spinnin' like it was."

"That's good. Let me know if that changes." Patting his leg, she smiled back at him. The young soldier was one she was particularly concerned about. During the initial explosion, he had been thrown back and landed hard on his head, getting knocked unconscious during the process. Eventually he woke back up but with a bloody head wound.

Tucking a few strands of wayward hair behind her ear, she adjusted Joe’s- no, her medic’s satchel across her body. Her heart clenched slightly at the reminder. Her own personal bag had been in the supply truck, now a pile of ash. Her few extra clothing items, her beloved book from home, the few letters she had from her family and friends along with what little money she had been holding onto, all gone. All destroyed in the fire that raged throughout the night as it consumed the supply truck. It hurt more than she thought it would. It was just stuff, but it had helped ground her, remind her of home. Without it, her soul felt slightly adrift. Even as she tried to convince herself it was just stuff, that it was replaceable, that twenty-two men died while she still drew breathe…. she still missed her belongings.

"Hey, dollface. Nice legs you got there."

She pretended to not hear the comment from the lanky soldier sitting on the tank, bandage around his calf. She remembered him. A bullet ricochet hit his calf but he screamed like his guts were being ripped out, then he threatened one of the other medics until he received morphine.

"Ah, c'mon, smile. I just gave you a compliment." He called after her, a sleazy smirk on his face.

"Hey, shut up." Boyd demanded, having turned to glare at the offending soldier.

The arrogant soldier looked over his shoulder at Boyd as if surprised to be called out. "What? Like you can't see them." He snickered, continuing to leer at the nurse.

Anna closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Unfortunately, she was used to men like that by now. Even if she hated dealing with them. She had a job to do though. War did not care if the men it wounded were good or bad, kind-hearted or arrogant, gentle or dangerous- it took them all. Her job was to save as many as she could from War's grasp. To allow as many men as she could to return to their families one day.

She turned slightly to meet the eyes of the lanky soldier. "Is there something you need, soldier?"

"Aren't you going to check on me, darling?" He winked at her.

In a sudden flurry of movement, Grady roughly shoved the soldier off the tank without preamble. The soldier screamed as he hit the ground, landing on his hurt leg. The sound echoed in the air, bouncing off anything nearby as if to gain momentum in volume. Everyone nearby jumped at the sound, eyes locked on the soldier swearing and rolling on the ground. Anna stared in horror and confusion, a hand over her rapidly beating heart, unsure if she should intervene or stay to the side. Her answer came in the next moment as Grady hopped off the tank to stand between the soldier and Anna.

The soldier screamed, grabbing at his leg as he rocked on the ground. "What the fuck was that for?! Christ, I'm wounded, you asshole!"

"Yeah, shut the hell up." Grady said, just staring down at the soldier. He turned to look at Anna but never turned his back completely on the soldier. "You good?"

She nodded mutely, beyond surprised and made quite speechless by Grady's actions.

"Coon-Ass! What's going on here?" Don stormed towards them, cigarette hanging from his lips and fire in his eyes.

"Nothin', Don. He started talking shit 'bout Anna. I shut him up." Grady shrugged, staring at his commander. A silent understanding seemed to pass between the two. Don gave a curt nod and only after that did he even acknowledge the man on the ground.

"You his Sergeant?!" The soldier was yelling, teeth bared like a rabid dog. "He pushed me off the goddamn tank! He can't do that!"

"Yeah? Well, sounds like you fucking deserved it." Don pulled the cigarette from his lips, blowing the smoke out. His eyes quickly shifted to Anna to scan her quickly before dropping back down to the soldier.

"Cause I complimented the fucking nurse? You know what, fuck you! And fuck the bitch!"

Don whipped out his pistol and pointed it at the downed soldier. Every sound ceased. The air froze. No one moved. Tension radiated from the scene. It felt with one wrong move, one wrong sound, Don would shoot. Even the wounded man stared in horror and rage at the pistol aimed at him. Everyone waited to see what Don would do. Anna covered her mouth with her hand, terrified that if she even peeped, Don would shoot the man on accident. When Don spoke next, Anna had never heard him sound so cold, it physically sent shivers down her spine.

"I highly suggest you shut that big mouth of yours before I put fucking hole in your other leg."

If looks could kill, the soldier would have killed the tank commander twice over with the lethal glare he leveled at Don; but he wisely kept his mouth shut. The two stared at each other, almost willing the other to say something and set them both off like ticking time bombs.

After several tense moments, Don was the first to rip his gaze away and look over at Anna. Without a word, he beckoned her over with his hand. Worried and a little intimidated, she hurried over to stand between him and Grady.

"Anna, up you go now." The tank commander stated, nodding towards Fury, the threatening tone not quite fully leached from his voice yet.

"Wha… oh, no, I'm ok, Don. I promise."

Those intense eyes bored into hers, immediately stopping any further excuses from passing her lips. "I can see you shaking like a leaf from the cold. I won't ask you again."

"She can take my spot with Bible." Grady said to Don, looking over her head. "Keep her warmer."

"Good. C'mon then."

Next thing she knew, she was being manhandled by Don. He lifted her up as if she weighed nothing and set her onto the tank, where Boyd took her hand and slipped her into the gunner's spot with him. Her legs immediately felt marginally warmer as they were no longer bared to the cold elements.

Don climbed up to his spot, just on her left. None of the other soldiers, wounded or walking, would meet his gaze as he scanned over those nearby. As if just a shared glance would unleash his terrible ire onto them.

"I could have gotten up by myself." She grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest as she glanced over at him.

His hands stilled from placing the helmet on his head, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment. "Whatever you say, doll." He winked quickly at her then looked forward, tapping a hand on his comms to speak. "Alright, let's move out."

After that the tank jerked forward, Boyd had reached over to help keep her upright. Once settled, she tucked her face into her coat; not because of the cold, but in hopes no one would notice the blush on her cheeks. Butterflies danced in her stomach and it took her mentally berating herself to keep the stupid, giddy smile off her face. A simple wink should not have this much of an effect on her. Her mind decided to remind her of how it felt to have his hands on her and how easily he lifted her. That thought made her face heat up even more.

To distract herself, she peeked over her shoulder to see Grady sitting just behind her on the tank, watching the tree line with his mouth slightly open.

Although she still felt somewhat tense around Grady, he no longer looked at her as if she was a piece of meat to be ogled. She had noticed it the prior night as she joined the Fury crew and fell asleep leaning against Boyd. Followed by his strange actions today, she could not help but wonder what changed… if whatever occurred between him and Don in the French town had more of an effect than she realized. Maybe he was not such a bad man after all? Giving people second chances was something her mother preached and Anna found herself trying to do. Maybe now was a perfect example?

Those on Fury rode silently for several miles, just watching the surroundings. Her thoughts turned dark, wondering if she should write Joe Hunter's wife. Obviously his wife would receive a condolence letter from the army but maybe it would help if she received a personal letter too from someone who worked with him? Who knew him and how devoted he was to her? Then again, she did not want his wife to misread her letter somehow and think Anna and Joe had an affair and now Anna was writing a letter out of guilt? Would someone do that? Or would they keep quiet about it? Her thoughts bounced around in her mind like ping pong balls, constantly moving but never actually in a helpful way.

"Where you from, Anna?"

"Mmm?" Boyd's sudden question drew her from her inner musings. She lifted her head to look at him from staring at her nails as she picked at them. It took her an embarrassingly long moment of him staring at her with his eyebrows raised for his question to sink it. Heat filled her cheeks but she hoped it was not too noticeable. "Oh, sorry. I grew up in South Carolina but my family moved to Virginia, so that's where we lived the last few years. What about you?"

He hummed, shifting slightly. "Missouri."

"I've never been there. Do you miss it?"

"I reckon. I miss the people there more, ya know?"

Don cut in, still staring a head. "What he means is, he misses his girl."

Her eyes widened and her head moved so fast from looking at Don on her left side to staring at Boyd on her right, she almost gave herself whiplash. "You have a sweetheart?"

"Yeah." He shrugged casually as if it was not a big deal but the small smile on his lips and the light in his eyes betrayed him.

"And you haven't told me this?! You were getting on my case about seeing if I had one and this whole time you did!" She smack his chest lightly, making him flinch while Don and Grady laughed. "What's her name?"

"Sarah Grace." His eyes softened even just saying her name. "Prettiest woman on God's good earth, I swear."

She smiled at the fondness in his tone.

"We was gonna marry but then the war broke out and I felt called to join up. So she's waitin’ for me. When we get back, I'll start seminary and we'll get married."

"If she's still waiting and not married someone else."

Boyd narrowed his eyes at the mechanic behind Anna. "Grady, you just tryin' to get me riled up. It won't work. I know she'll wait."

"Maybe she done run off with someone already." Grady countered, a smirk on his face.

"I just received a letter from her last month. You know that."

"That was last month…"

"I swear, Grady, if you don't-"

"Alright, alright. Knock it off." Don said, grinning. It was obvious this was a continuous argument but was born out of teasing than any true malice. Boyd mumbled something under his breath, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Well I think it's sweet, Boyd. I'm happy for you." She bumped his shoulder, erasing the scowl on his face. In a split second decision, she looked behind her at Grady. Second chances, she told herself. "Where are you from?"

Initially, he seemed startled that she would ask him but quickly hid the surprise with his usual indifference. "California."

She turned to Don next. "And you?"

"Kentucky."

It felt like she had to physically tear her eyes away from his or else she would be trapped in them. There was an intensity in them that balanced on the edge of exhilarating and terrifying. All it took was a small breeze to push him one way or another. So far she had only seen the kind and protective side of him. Now though, after he pulled the gun on the wounded man, she had seen a brutal side. It reminded her of when Norman mentioned about when he first met Don. Now she could see it, what Don had forced Norman to do. It sent a chill down her spine. People were forced to commit terrible crimes all the time during war. Was this side of Don because of war or just something that lurked under the surface continuously? She found herself worried about the answer.

Boyd interrupted her thoughts, continuing the conversation. "Gordo there is from Texas. Norman is from Pennsylvania."

"Y'all are from all over the place."

"Yep, all it took was Hitler startin’ a war for us to meet."

They all chuckled but grew quiet again at the sobering thought.

Anna could not help but think about where she would be right now if she had not joined the Nurse Corps. She had hoped to go to college and become a teacher. It was not glamorous but the very thought of it brought a smile to her face. Much to society's chagrin, she wanted more from life than to just marry the first man that came around and start having his babies. But it did not matter now. She was not even on the same continent of her birth.

She pushed back the thoughts of before and focused on those around her. The smell of cigarettes from the soldiers surrounding her. The chill in the air that clung to her without reprieve. The sight of what should have been a beautiful forest but set her on edge, expecting another surprise attack. She could not focus on what she was missing out on. War happened. And she answered the call. Even if it had been to get away from her own sins and ruined reputation.

*****

The next afternoon, the company and tanks rolled into Haguenau. Snow dusted everything that had not been trampled yet. The air hung heavy with fatigue and despair. Supposedly the Allies were winning the war, but with the looks on the faces around… you would not suspect that. The sound of a mortar slamming into the ground up ahead made Anna flinch. She could not help but wonder what kind of new hell she had been taken too.

"Let's park in the rear. Don't need those Krauts aiming for our tanks." Don said over the comms.

When the tanks stopped, everything ground to a halt around them, followed by Captain Evans pulling up in his jeep. "Sergeant Collier! You'll come with me. Let's find out who's running this shit show."

"Yes, sir!"

Anna slid off the side of the tank, careful of her cold, bare legs. Instead of riding that day with Boyd, she had instead elected to ride next to a young soldier who had been shot in the shoulder. Tears slipping down his cheeks but the soldier never made a sound. The whole ride she held his hand on his uninjured side. Occasionally, she had to check on the other wounded but she always returned back to the young soldier. He never cried out, just whispered a near silent 'thank you' and held her hand tightly.

She could hear the men being told to stay put until further orders were given. Most were used to the routine by now. Stand around until directed where to go next. It was something she was adjusting too. Ignoring those yelling commands around her, she fixed her mangled uniform and coat as much as possible and looked up at her patient/companion.

"I'll be right back." She tapped the young soldier's leg before walking away in search of Medic Christianson.

She found him talking to one of the other medics, standing near a different tank. "Arthur, what do we do now?" She asked, rubbing her hands together to try and warm them up. Spring and its accompanying warmth could not come soon enough.

"We need to find the aid station they have here. Hopefully get the men moved there and transported to a hospital." He said, lighting a cigarette. After a drag, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right, I'll go. Keep an eye on those around here."

"I'll come with you." She said probably far too brightly if the looks given to her said anything.

His green eyes narrowed at her a moment before he shrugged. "Fine. Let's go."

She started to follow him, arms wrapped around herself in the large army-issued coat. For a second she wondered if she should tell Boyd where she was going then she dismissed it. He was not her keeper. She was here to do her job.

They wandered into the corpse-like city of Haguenau. It looked desolate. A mere illusion of what it had once been before war corrupted its beauty. Bombed buildings, craters in the streets, the staining of blood scattered along the ground and snow. Anna had never seen a place like this before.

After receiving directions from a passing Sergeant, they found the building housing the aid station. It was a two-story house that looked semi-stable, but far better than others surrounding it. Which was not a high standard. Anna and Arthur quickly ascended the steps and walked inside, not just to get out of the cold but to avoid the sporadic mortars.

"Something you need?" A voice asked them as soon as Arthur closed the door behind them.

The two looked over to see a man watching them from a side room. He had short black hair, thin beard, open face and medic badge on his arm. His head was tilted to the side, the cap on his head sliding slightly with the movement.

"We just arrived with our company and we've got wounded." Arthur said, taking charge and moving another step into the building.

"Uh huh." The man eyed them then turned back and called out toward another room. "Hey, Roe!" He looked back at the two by the door, it was obvious the calculations crossing his mind as he prepared his question. "How many wounded?"

"Eighteen."

"Shit. What happened?"

Anna kept back, allowing Arthur to take the lead. The dark-haired medic's eyes flickered towards her occasionally as if wondering what she was doing there but chose not to ask. Rubbing her hands together, a brief smile lifted the corners of her lips. Just being indoors, the permanent chill in her bones receded just enough she did not worry her legs would turn to icicles. It had only been a few days since the company left the small French town but being continuously outdoors, day and night, was something Anna found she disliked fervently. She looked over as she heard footsteps coming around the corner.

Arthur was still talking to the dark-haired medic, explaining what happened. "They laid landmines in the road, then when we stopped they fired on us from the surrounding woods. Perfect fucking ambush."

"Damn Nazis." The medic shook his head. "You hear that, Gene?"

The one called for came around the corner. He also had dark hair, pale skin and a sharp jawline. His eyes though were dull and a hint of red lingered around his nose like he was getting over a cold. His uniform was clean but even that could not distract from how bone-deep weary he appeared. "I 'eard. We got room upstairs. Won't be an issue."

She froze, her mind whirling. That voice. She recognized it. Not many medics she had encountered had such a distinct Cajun drawl. Her brain frantically raced trying to remember where she knew it from.

"Eugene?" She found herself asking, hesitation in her voice. The man's head whipped over to stare at her. "Eugene Roe?"

"Yes, ma'am. Have we met?"

"Yes… I mean." She tucked some loose stands of her hair behind her ear, nervous that he would not remember her. "It…. It was back in Albourne. We did some training together. I'm Anna… Anna Cooper."

One could watch the light bulb go off in his mind and his eyes light up. "Chérie?" His voice almost held an element of awe to it, that she was here and real.

She nodded, feeling tears fill her eyes. There was something in the simple nickname that tugged at her heart's strings. It reminded her of a time before war. Before blood and screams. Before the memories of death were stronger than memories of home. When it would just be the two of them at the aid station in Albourne practicing bandaging one another or swapping stories of their homes when homesickness struck them.

He hesitated for a moment before walking towards her. Seeing him move, she practically sprinted to him. They collided in that drafty building in Haguenau and for a moment, both felt like they could feel the sunshine on their faces and a spring rain to cleanse the taint of death from their skin. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. His own arms enclosed around her much smaller frame, surrounding her in warmth. Tears slipped down her cheeks, wetting his ODs. For once, she was not even ashamed.

"It's alright, chérie, it's alright."

She laughed wetly, tipping her head up to look at him. "I can't even tell you how happy I am to see you."

"I got that impression."

"Don't ruin the moment, Gene."

He chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. "It's good to see ya too." He released her to step back and fully look at her. It was then he seemed to finally noticed her attire, or lack thereof. His eyes narrowed staring at her bare legs and short uniform boots before jumping back up to her face. "How did ya end up here? And what 'appened to ya uniform? Ya must be freezin'."

"It's a long story...and we ran out of bandages, so…" she shrugged, gesturing to her clothes, self-conscious of her exposed skin.

Gene and the other medic shared a look before Gene looked back. "I expect to ‘ear it later, and we'll find ya some spare ODs. Spina, we got any in the new winter lot?"

"Uh...I think so." The dark-haired medic responded, eyebrows almost touching his forehead.

"How many wounded y’all got?" Gene asked Anna.

"Eighteen."

"Bring 'em here. We'll make room. Medics?"

Arthur answered this time, arms crossed over his chest. "Three medics and Nurse Cooper."

"Good. Know how long y’all stayin'?"

"No." She peeked over at Arthur, who confirmed her answer with a short nod. "We only just arrived."

Gene looked over at Arthur. "Careful bringin' 'em here. We'll get space set and some coffee for ya." He peered down at Anna, eyes softening. "Let's get ya some warmer clothes, chérie."

"I swear you're an angel… a Cajun angel."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Whatever ya say." Putting an arm around her shoulders, he guided her towards a different room.

And for a moment, she was reminded that one could find joy even in the midst of war.

*****

The tank commander stood in the back of the crumbling, dank room observing the scene before him. He had followed Captain Evans and his two lieutenants to the HQ for the battalion holding Haguenau. Personally, he would rather be back with his men instead of here listening to formal introductions. This battalion did specifically ask for him and his platoon, so he steeled himself to get through this.

"I'm Captain Evans of the 103rd Infantry Division. This is Lieutenant Diggs and Lieutenant Cox. Behind them is Staff Sergeant Collier of the Armored Division." The Captain, who was clearly the oldest in the room by at least a decade or two, stood in the middle of what most likely used to be a nice living room, if the damaged chandelier hanging above him said anything. Now the place looked somewhere between trashed and abandoned. His two lieutenants stood just behind him as the introductions took place. "I'll get to the damn point, eh? We were blitz attacked on our way here, lost twenty-two men and another eighteen wounded. Fucking Krauts. I'm requesting permission to regroup and have our wounded taken care of before we move out."

The red-head with the Captain's bars on his jacket nodded quickly, granting permission before Captain Evans even finished asking. "Of course. We don't have a lot to spare but we will what we can." He reached his hand out to shake hands with the grizzled captain. "I'm Captain Winters of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airbourne."

"Paratroopers, eh?" The older man eyed the other captain after shaking hands. "Heard you are some mean bastards. Nice to see the reputation isn't wrong for once."

"Just doing our jobs."

"Right. We'll get outta here, eh? Thank you again, Captain."

"Sure." Captain Winters stated kindly but still with a hint of a guarded tone. "You need anything, ask for myself or Lieutenant Speirs of Easy Company."

With a final nod, Captain Evans and his two lieutenants walked out. A strange silence fell over those in the room after the door slammed shut behind the Infantrymen. Don suddenly felt like he was back in the elementary school yard and was waiting to get picked for a team. Thankfully the silence did not last long.

"Armored Division? Are you our supposed tanks?" A dark-haired man asked, sitting propped up in a corner, flask openly in hand. This was his first time speaking, instead having just watched the prior introductions with a cocky grin.

Don eyed him, noting the Captain bars on his uniform. "Yes, sir. 2nd Armored Division or what's left of it."

Captain Winters stepped forward to shake Don's hand. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

"Yeah, could have used you two months ago. Hell, even a month ago could have saved lives." The other Captain muttered then took a sip from his flask. Don tensed but then noticed the unnamed Captain's aggression seemed more directed at whatever happened two months ago versus Don himself.

The red-head looked over his shoulder. "Nix…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

Winters looked back at Don. "How many tanks do you have?"

"Four, sir."

"Good...good. There is talk of some smaller towns nearby we will need you for, to provide assistance with liberating and securing. Until we know for sure, your men find somewhere to stay. As of now, you are under my direct command, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"That'll be all, Sergeant Collier."

Don gave a quick salute and headed back out into the bombed out town. As he walked back towards the tanks, he thought about the man whose command he was now under. Captain Winters. There was a calculating intelligence in his eyes, not in a malicious way, but more as a chess master. When he asked Don about the number of tanks, it was apparent his mind immediately took the information and began processing how best to utilize them. Don also noticed how when a mortar landed particularly close to the building, making the few pictures left on the walls shake, neither the red-headed Captain nor the dark-haired one flinched. At all. The tank commander was unsure fully what to make of the other Captain- this Nix- but he approved so far of what he has seen in Captain Winters. He was a man obviously in control with his authority but was not so far up in the clouds he forgot about his foot soldiers. A rare trait amongst Regiment in Don's opinion.

By the time Don arrived back, it seemed most of the infantrymen had dispersed into the city leaving the tanks and their crews waiting for him. He hoped they could find a decent building to claim without resorting to violence. At this point, he was not above punching a few Privates to make sure his crew got a good roof over their heads.

"What's the orders?" Binkowski asked, eyeing the city warily.

Don sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before answering. "Under a Captain Winters now. Said to stay put until orders are confirmed but sounds like we'll help secure some towns nearby."

"Heard they're paratroopers." Davis said. He leaned against his tank, lighting up a cigarette.

"Yep." The sound of a mortar went off nearby. Don watched Norman startle out of the corner of his eye then rub his nose on his sleeve. He made a mental note to check on the kid once they got settled.

"Paratroopers?" One of Davis' crew muttered, standing just off to the side.

"The idiots that volunteered to jump out of planes." Binkowski answered with a snort and shake of his blond head.

"On purpose?" The crew member's eyes widened. Don tried to remember the man's name. Kohl… Colbert… Coulson… something like that.

Gordo said, sitting on top of Fury. "Heard they are some real sonsofbitches."

Don smirked. "Guess we'll find out. Let's find somewhere to claim before all the houses are filled up."

The men began to move, ready to find somewhere to bunk down. Don surveyed around once more, wondering what awaited them in this hell hole.

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

Alright, what did y’all think of Easy’s introductions? Lemme know what you think!

#Fury movie #fury 2014 #fury fanfic #band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #Don Collier #Don Wardaddy Collier #don collier x OFC #boyd swan #boyd bible swan #Grady Coon-Ass Travis #eugene roe #dick winters #lewis nixon #ww2 #mzwrites

55 notes · View notes

straymackerel · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! Can I request #12 from the event prompt with Akutagawa? Congrats btw! 😊

akutagawa + zhaghzhagh || ژاقژاق (persian, n.) the uncontrollable chattering of teeth, due to rage or cold.

➽─{yayayay more akutagawa! i had an ✨awakening✨ after my last event ask for him teehee}─❥

Upon your assignment to the guerilla attack force, your friends in the Port Mafia gave you their solemn condolences. “Good luck,” they told you, smiles dropping as they heard the news. Their voices danced the line between nervous and sympathetic, too afraid to fully commit to either. Neither cautionary tales nor measures of advice were offered up; each and every one of you were already familiar with many a horror story of Akutagawa’s brutality. And for a mere rookie to join the fray? People ranked as low as yourselves had much to fear about the upper echelons. Your very promotion itself was counterintuitive, alarm-raising.

Naturally, your friends were quick to write you─the only one of the group who dared to rise the ranks─off and out of mind. Rumor has it they placed bets the same day you were put under the direct command of Akutagawa Ryunosuke. Rumor has it they were betting on how long you’d stay alive.

You were skeptical, as anyone who aspired to climb that high should be. You dismissed your colleagues’ concerns with a wave of a hand and a shake of the head, certain your fate was not a gruesome nor sealed one. More harrowing than the rumors of the Silent Rabid Dog were those concerning the very apex of the Mafia, the ringleader himself; surely, a man as merciless as Mori Ogai would never let such fabled recklessness run a command unit.

You were half right... and half wrong.

Akutagawa really was a loose cannon, as you soon found out. Though his fervent goal was to advance the Mafia, he often acted of his own accord, taking drastic measures to achieve his ends. His actions were fueled by both anger and irrational jealousy to boot, a most precarious combination in practice. You often felt as if you walked a tightrope around him, as if one wrong move might send you plummeting to the ground head first.

Akutagawa's homicidal tendencies were apparent as ever as he loomed over the lifeless corpse of a double agent one frosty morning. On the very outskirts of Yokohama, you stood in silence as he kicked the motionless figure, pushing it over with his foot. A frozen face of horror came to face the sky, vacant eyes staring into the gray bleakness of winter. Akutagawa’s disappointment was nearly tangible as the both of you confirmed what you hoped was not the case: this person is not our main target.

Shivering, you turned away from the body as it leaked the crimson essence of life, tainting the brilliant blanket of snow that dusted the ground. The crystals of ice bloomed a deadly hue at your feet, shades of red sweeping the floor. Akutagawa scoffed when his communicator went off, adjusting his cravat as the operator asked for a report.

“The target is heading north. The sole accomplice we stopped has nothing of value on them,” he replied, tone cold and detached. But you knew better than most that the look on his face was one of barely contained rage; you could feel his eyes boring holes into you, even with your back turned to him.

“Yes. No. I see,” he continued. Shifting under your thin jacket, you braced yourself for nearly certain chastisement. You tuned out the conversation, unable to keep listening. Your stance only wavered in its chill-induced tremble.

This job was supposed to be a short one, hence the appointment of only two Mafia members; you planned to be in and out instead of wandering the cold for hours. The enemy turned the tables on you, leading both you and Akutagawa on a wild goose chase, one you were unable to keep up with. You most definitely slowed down your commander like a dead weight chained to his legs, and you were undoubtedly certain he despised you for it. You knotted your fingers, tips icy cold and red. Worse than punishing you immediately, he seethed in undirected annoyance.

“Tch, they put us on standby,” Akutagawa said, shoving the communications device into his pocket. “After all the trouble we went through today.” You stiffened at the prospect of the two of you alone and without witness; if he really wanted to, he could have laid you to waste right then and there. Against your better judgment, not a single word of apology slipped through your lips. The stillness was deafening. It absolutely irked him.

“Hey, did you even hear me?” he asked incredulously, the crunching of snow behind you growing closer and closer. You flinched when he placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, whipping you around. “What’s the matter with you?”

Hands clenched, you withered under Akutagawa’s gaze, squeezing your eyes shut. You may have even prayed for an instant death. Your teeth chattered, clattering against themselves with each gust of wind that flew into you, quaking under pressure and frigidity. Even without your sight you felt the formless shroud of Rashomon surround you, poised to slice through your arms and legs. Its menacing presence grazed your sides as if eager to take a bite.

“I can’t have you blanking out on me first thing in the morning,” he said, voice ragged and husky. “Seriously, what’s your deal?” You felt the monster he called an overcoat rest atop of you, no longer scraping the surface. Only after a beat and a half did you dare to open your eyes a crack, curious of the way in which you might lose your life. When your eyes fluttered open, you went into shock.

Rashomon had itself wrapped around you, tightening around your torso as it was fashioned into the vague suggestion of another coat. You tried to blink it off, wondering if it was just your imagination. But the fabric laid against you like a blanket, and it was softer than you’d ever imagined the beast-like ability. You blinked at Akutagawa’s question, unsure of exactly how to answer.

“I–didn’t I mess everything up?” Your superior sighed at your response, easing back. Swaddling you in warmth, Rashomon finally settled in place on your shaking form.

“You really weren’t paying attention, were you?” he asked, frown deepening. You nodded slowly, tugging at the black fabric. “Jeez, what a piece of work,” he said. “Listen closely this time, okay? The guys over at headquarters ordered us to follow a group of decoys. Our real target was going the opposite way the entire time,” he explained, pausing to suppress a cough. “We were duped. And so was HQ.” The words took a moment to process in your mind. When they did, you nearly keeled over.

“Oh, thank god,” you breathed, having held your breath for much too long. You sighed your relief, your three words holding still in the air. Slackening, your body almost collapsed from how tensely you held yourself.

“Well, don’t sound so relieved about it,” he said, breaking the quietude. “Might I remind you of your performance today?” You clung to Rashomon even tighter, shame returning to mind. Having chosen the wrong time to celebrate, you knocked your feet together, straightening your posture once more.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” The two of you listened to the birds awaken from their slumber, chirping away as they celebrated the highly anticipated sunrise. As Akutagawa’s ability returned to you every last bit of heat that you lost, you thought to add one more thing.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Our enemies were well prepared this time,” Akutagawa said, pretending not to hear the last part you threw in. “The information we were fed led to severe understaffing, so even if our fugitive was among that group, nothing that happened was your fault alone.” Akutagawa turned to you, nodding his approval. “But if I see you running out of breath like that again─”

You nodded fervently, embarrassed. For a moment you felt Rashomon flicker, as if it was uncomfortable with being used in this way. Its startle even came close to tickling you. Akutagawa bristled at this realization, restraining himself from returning Rashomon to its proper place. You thought you heard his voice waver as he said:

“Also, do me a favor and wear more next time.”

#akutagawa ryunosuke #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa imagine #akutagawa oneshot #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs fanfic #500 followers event

105 notes · View notes

aelin-queen-of-terrasen · 4 years ago

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤

Rowaelin modern AU ▶ Masterlist

note: sorry for the late, but this chapter is longer than usual so hope that makes up for it!

──────✧❅✦❅✧──────

Aelin loved playing with stray dogs when she was little. Two days before her seventh birthday, Aelin had tried to pet a particularly wild dog. It was huge, and it chased her around the mostly empty park until she locked herself in the ladies bathroom. The hours passed in a blur, but the relief she'd felt when she'd heard her cousin's footsteps, his voice as he tried to shoo away the growling creature nearly overwhelmed her. It morphed into pure terror when she heard Aedion's pained shriek as the rabid animal bit him.

It was that odd combination of relief and terror she remembered when she heard her cousin scream that night—the sound that compelled her to unlock the door. She stared at the sight before her in horror.

Arobynn lay on the ground, breathing in short gulps. Blood—there was so much blood, splattered on the floor, on the walls, on the carpet. And standing above him, panting through his teeth was her cousin, covered in blood himself, his baseball bat clutched in his hand. Thr tip of the bat was coloured crimson like the formerly white tiles—now yellowish because of disrepair. Aedion was shaking all over.

"I didn't mean to," he said, though she didn't think he was talking to her. "I didn't mean to hurt him—is he—"

Is he dead? she read the unspoken fear in his eyes as clearly as if he'd said it out loud. But there—Arobynn's chest rose and fell ever so slow. Not dead, just unconscious.

Aelin said, "We need to leave." Aedion nodded, but he made no movement. "I'm sorry, so sorry. I shouldn't have called, I'm sorry."

She enveloped him in a hug, clutching onto him as if she could fix all the shit with her tight hold over him. She mumbled muffled apologies into his shirt, blinking back tears.

She called a cab, unsure where they could go. Aedion's mother had died in an accident five years ago, and Gavriel had no knowledge of his son until he attended his ex-wife's funeral—so while their professor was her cousin's guardian on papers, Aedion lived alone in the house he'd been raised in. She couldn't leave him there alone now. It was how she found herself knocking on her uncle's apartment door, aware of Aedion's resentment towards Gavriel in the middle of the night.

She rang the doorbell twice, then slumped against the wall in exhaustion.

Aedion stood silently, staring behind her with a blank expression. She'd expected him to rage at her—her cousin detested asking favours from his father. He wanted nothing to do with the man who'd left his mother to raise him alone for years, and he'd made it clear. He didn't make so much as a sound of protest now.

The door opened. "Aelin, what are—is that blood? Aedion?" he gaped, eyes flicking between the two of them.

"Could we, ah, stay here, maybe?" Aelin asked, then amended: "Just Aedion, I mean. I can go crash on Dorian's couch, I just—I can't leave him alone—"

Gavriel held up a hand, shaking his head a little. "Don't be stupid, you can both stay here as long as you'd like." The shock was replaced with concern and he opened the door wider, ushering them inside. He offered them water, then fetched the first aid kit, movements fast and panicked.

"You're hurt," Gavriel observed, looking at her. Then he turned towards his son, "and you too."

Aedion said, "The blood isn't mine. Aelin—she needs help." His voice was thick, hoarse from lack of use. He shifted on the couch, looking more aware of his surroundings than before, without the usual displeasure in his voice.

"I'm fine," she snapped.

Gavriel cleaned her cut, and bandaged it, making her flinch on occassion. Once she was treated, he turned to his son.

Aelin was grateful he hadn't asked questions yet, letting the events settle in. Aedion returned to himself with each passing minute and with no more need to clamp down on nerves, she let tears flood down her cheeks. There was a dull ache in her head, and she was so exhausted, she didn't know when sleep claimed her.

...........

Aelin woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom, the lights dim and curtains pulled shut. Someone knocked softly at the door. "You awake yet, Ace?" a familiar, not unwelcome voice asked. Dorian.

She groaned, sitting up in the bed. Her heart skipped a beat when the events from last night came rushing in. "Aedion—where is he?"

"Here, ma'am," her cousin answered, leaning against the doorframe. Though he tried to smile, his eyes—eerily similar to her own—had a haunting look in them. She supressed a shiver. Red-rimmed, swollen eyes were lined with dark circles, cheeks sunken in, hair sticking up strangely, as if he'd been running a hand through them. But alive; he was alive and unhurt—

"You're fine," she breathed out.

His face softened. "I'm the one who should be asking that. How are you?" She made a face at the concern in his voice, making the cuts on her face throb worse than before.

"Hurts like a bitch," she said, then scrunched her nose up in distaste. "You look like shit." Her cut hurt more from talking, but as the dark mood lifted a little, she couldn't regret the expression. "Did you—Uncle Gavriel, he uh...?" She didn't miss the twitch of displeasure in her cousin's eyes, though if he felt she shouldn't have brought them here, he gave no indication of it.

"He's in school, we all skipped when Aedion told us—everyone's in the room." Dorian explained, then winked at her. "We thought it best to have you wake up to a pretty face."

Aelin rolled her eyes; despite herself, she couldn't help but grin back. "And where is this pretty face then? I don't see anyone except you and Aedion." Dorian pouted in a fashion that had her grinning harder. Even Aedion's lips twitched upwards a little, though he tried his best to resist. It was hard not to smile; she was safe, Aedion was safe—it was more than she could've hoped for. Before either cousin could retort though, animated voices travelled to the room.

"Everyone's waiting outside," Aedion gestured to the neatly folded clothes on her bedside. "Dorian's clothes. He's the closest to your size so it's all we could get for now."

"Everyone...?" she tried not to sound anxious but failed.

Aedion nodded. "Lorcan, Lysandra, the twins. I wasn't sure if you wanted Sam to know." Aelin shook her head vehemently, feeling guilty Sam wasn't who she wanted to see now. Disappointment surged inside her chest at the thought that Rowan hadn't come.

She wasn't even sure he knew, or if she wanted him to know.

Aedion nodded in understanding, then went to take his leave. "Be quick, you don't want to scare others."

Aelin's answering curse was everything that shouldn't be repeated in polite company. Chuckling, Aedion left the room to presumably give her some privacy and greet his girlfriend.

She raised an eyebrow at her best friend, who was still in his seat, looking very much amused. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"I need to change, so leave," she raised an eyebrow. "Unless you want a show, of course."

Dorian's eyes shown with mirth, the laughter barely contained. "Meh. Won't be anything I haven't seen before." The answering pillow hit him square in the face and Aelin congratulated herself on the perfect aim.

When Dorian still made no move to leave, she warned, "It'll be the slipper for you if you don't leave now."

It was only when he'd left, his cackling a faint sound from the living room that she changed into the loose, comfy sweatshirt and joggers, and thanked the gods for elastic waistbands as she left the room. All eyes turned on her when she reached the living room, conversation came to a halt and the atmosphere buzzed with awkward tension, everyone falling silent.

Before Aelin could decide she'd rather retreat to her room rather than enduring this, Fenrys observed, "You look ridiculous in that. Who even wears clothes like those?"

Dorian narrowed his eyes in displeasure. "Clearly, moon-moon, you need a lesson in fashion. Nothing is wrong with those clothes." He huffed, knowing Fenrys was aware those were his clothes he was talking about.

Fenrys was saved from finding a retort when Lorcan barked, "If either of you talk fashion more, I'll throw you lot out of the window myself."

Aelin instantly moved to his side, thankful that someone in this apartment wasn't being a complete clown until he turned his attention on her, brows furrowing immediately when his dark eyes flicked towards the cut on her cheek.

She huffed, prepared for the fuss that was about to be made on her account. She wasn't disappointed when Lorcan made her sit on the sofa, handing her a cup of coffee. The smell delighted her senses but she scowled at being treated like an invalid. Surely, a few cuts on her cheek hadn't made her incapable of standing on her own two feet? There was little use in arguing though, and she bore her friends' concern with as much grace as she could muster.

Lorcan surveyed her once more, jaw set and fists clenched. "Is it hurting? It must be hurting—we should probably get that checked out today. Conall is in the kitchen with your uncle, he's making soup and Lysandra brought chocolates—though I don't think that helps—"

"It does," Aelin said in a firm voice, fighting to hide the amusement from her tone. "Where are they then? My chocolates, I mean."

Lysandra dropped a box on the sofa beside her, then swooped in for a hug. The dark-haired girl held her in a tight embrace, unwilling to let go of her friend for a good while before she pulled back. "I'm so glad you're fine. I'd hate to be left with these morons."

Aelin grinned. "I would never," she promised, ignoring the whines of protest from behind her. She leaned over to grab the box but Lorcan was already there, handing it to her. "I'm still capable of picking up a box of chocolates! I'm not an invalid."

He conveniently ignored her statement, flopping down by her side. He looked as sullen as ever. "You should've called all of us. One of you should have. Why didn't you call?"

"I was capable of calling a cab," Aelin answered, trying to forget how scared she'd felt, like the cab driver would somehow drop them right back at Arobynn's and Aedion would get hurt and she won't be able to do anything about it—"And it was like, middle of the night! You were probably asleep! I didn't know who to call."

Lorcan scowled. "I don't care if I was in the middle of my own fucking wedding! If you'd called, I would've come."

"But now it's fine," she said with a bright grin, launching an assault on her chocolates. She steered the topic of conversation away from herself, and soon they were all cackling. "Aedion called you here?" She hadn't yet decided whether she wanted to hit her cousin or thank him for it.

"He did," Dorian confirmed, reaching a hand for the chocolates. She swatted his hand away. In the background of her head, a voice asked: Did Rowan know too? She clamped down on it hard.

Lorcan made a face but he didn't speak further, shifting closer to her. Aelin leaned into him with a satisfied smile until her best friend spoke, "What are you planning to do now?"

"Uhhhh, sleep some more?" Aelin asked.

Lorcan gave her a blank look. "I meant your living conditions. You're not an adult yet," his voice grew quieter still, "and you're not going back there." He held up a hand when I began to speak. "You've always said you can handle him, and I trusted you, but it's never been this bad before."

"We can't go to the police, he's got them in his pocket—" she started.

Dorian cut in. "We're not out of resources either, Ace. If you'd let me, I'll tell my parents, or you can crash with one of us until you're eighteen and legally inherit your parents' house and business," his voice was firm, unrelenting and serious—so unlike him, it shut her up. "But either way, you're not living with him anymore."

"We've gotten extra room in my house, you can live with me," Aedion declared. "I talked with Gavriel too—as your nearest living relative, he can claim your guardianship if you choose to file a report against Arobynn."

Lorcan squeezed his shoulder for comfort, and she was grateful for his quiet strength. "I'll need to think about it," she admitted, sighing.

And she did think about it for the next hour, while the overprotective bastards hovered over her. She was grateful when Lysandra drew Aedion away to the bedroom, trying not to think about what they were going to do in his father's bed. The rest of the group chatted merrily, ordered takeout, played video games and made stupid bets and stupider plans. It was Aelin's ideal day—spending time with people she loved so much. Then why did her thoughts revert to one person?

──────✧❅✦❅✧──────

tags:

@thesirenwashere // @courtofjurdan //@fangirltrash74 // @the-dark-swan // @queenofgreenbriar // @clockworkgraystairs // @julemmaes // @rowaelinforeverworld // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass // @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @morganofthewildfire // @aelinchocolatelover // @cool-ish-nerd // @faerie-queen-fireheart // @sad-book-whore // @hizqueen4life // @booknerdproblems // @annejulianneh111 // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @curlyredqueen06 // @moondancer-204 // @thesurielships // @witchling-leonor // @ladywitchling // @amren-courtofdreams // @ifinallygavein // @jlinez // @faequeenaelin // @df3ndyr // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @superspiritfestival // @xx-fiona-xx // @stardelia // @maastrash // @sanakapoor // @louisleblancdiggory // @abookishfreak // @maddymelv // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @flowersinvegas

note: does anyone know if there's a limit to the amount of people that can be mentioned in a post? cause I couldn't, until I removed a few tags that weren't working, and then it worked.

this chapter is like, far from my usual standard for a good chapter but it's satisfactory enough, tho i think there are some inconsistencies in the plot, which if you see, please don't hesitate in pointing out. 💖💖💖

#throne of glass #sarah j maas #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #dancing in the dark #aelin-queen-of-terrasen #aelin galathynius #lorcan salvaterre #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction

88 notes · View notes

rue-king · 3 years ago

Text

Family Found, Family Taken

(AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32892439)

Masterlist, Next Part

Summary: Gavin is tired, so tired. He is tired of being the bad guy, but thats just who he is he's mean and unapproachable. He can't be replaced, he just can't, work is all he has left to tie him to this world. It is the only thing that proves he's not as terrible as he feels.

But when the fancy RK900 unit walks in, along with a terrible string of murders, Gavin is pushed backwards. He can't on this way anymore, but he doesn't think he is capable of change.

This is his last chance, he is Gavin's last chance.

Warnings: cursing

Chapter 1:

Gavin Reed is a mess. A walking tragedy. Rough on every edge and totally banged up. From the scar on his nose to the little marks on his knuckles.

If the scruffy appearance and constant 5 o’clock shadow doesn’t make it obvious then the darker than night eyebags and shitty attitude certainly does.

He looks rough, but he's not a bad guy, at least not internally. He's a man who feels too much and is easily hurt, but he would rather die than ask for help or express himself. The man has more baggage than an airport.

He’s bitter and cold, almost aloof in demeanor. A rabid dog with a muzzle on at all times, marked “dangerous don’t pet” only by fault of trusting too much.

A stray, left wondering all by his lonely self fulfilling prophecy of isolation.

A grade “A” mess.

He drags his sorry ass to the Detroit Police Station everyday and works himself to the bone because that's all he knows. It’s all he is able to do in order to tune out all the thoughts that he knows will drown him.

Not a team player in the slightest, but he's certainly one of the best detectives the DPD has seen in a long time. Stupidly efficient, his brain makes connections in ways that are unparalleled by his human peers. Too bad no one in the building likes him enough to let him know it.

Another consequence of his own actions, he is an asshole and he knows it. The only person he can call a friend is Tina Chen, but even then he feels as though she could do better. They all can. He is mean and cuts people off, unapproachable and snappy. Truthfully he’s surprised she's still around.

If it wasn’t for Fowler's firm hand he’d practically live in the building, it's not like he takes breaks anyway, but alas he has a shitty apartment with two demon babies to get back to anyway.

Bright and early on a Monday morning the man, the myth, the legend himself walks his groggy ass through the doors of the DPD. The caffeine withdrawal headache already encroaches on his brain and he sports a fresh set of bandages over his abused knuckles.

He keeps his head low and heads straight for the breakroom, aiming to get a cup of the worst coffee Detroit can offer. His reputation around the office has always been less than great, but ever since the android revolution his peers have been walking on eggshells around him.

He doesn’t blame them, it's not like he tried to hide his anti-android sentiment. He huffs quietly to himself, why would he care what those assholes think about him.

He prepares his shitty coffee and walks over to his shitty desk in the shitty bullpen. He’s dramatic like that. He doesn’t bother the anticipatory itch he feels deep in his chest that eggs him on to dive straight back into work. Like a craving, a workaholic.

Days are long and hard now that there has been mass losses in employment and crime skyrocketed. Reed just has to solve it all himself. Masochist.

He sits at his desk reviewing the last notes he took at the scene of his most recent case. Double homicide, suspected breaking and entering, but nothing was stolen.

He hears loud belly laughter come from the entrance of the bullpen, in comes Hank Anderson and his sidekick Conner.

Reed glances at the clock and snorts a bit.

Won’t you look at that, Hank Anderson is early for the first time in about a thousand years.

He shakes his head, and goes back to his notes. Normally he would throw out a rude remark or two, but he simply doesn’t have the energy today so he settles for an eye roll.

He is drop dead tired. Insomnia is a bitch and he hardly has an appetite anymore.

“Good morning Detective” Conner calls in a stupidly cheery tone.

“Fuck off” Gavin mutters back, his words lacking their usual bite. He just sounds defeated, deflated.

Conner hovers for a second longer in front of Gavin's desk. A second longer than usual, too long for Gavin’s liking. He moves his head up to call Conner out, but is met with nothing but air.

Whatever.

Gavin goes back to work, shuffling lightly under his desk. He is focused on nothing. Staring blankly at his own words in front of him, unable to comprehend what he is looking at. His mind is somewhere else, caught between nowhere and here.

He looks away quickly and puts his head in his hands.

Breathe in and out. Just focus, you idiot. Focus.

He rubs his eyes harder as the frustration moves like tides within his chest.

This is an improvement from Gavin Reed, if it were a few months ago he would've just slammed his hands on his desk and stalked off to go smoke. Not that anyone cares enough to know it of course.

He breathes in deep again and sets his mind to try one more time before he swears he’ll scream or something,

“Reed! My office now!” A deep yell calls out, breaking his second of peace. Fowler, of course.

He audibly groans. He hasn’t done anything wrong so why the hell would the captain want to see him.

“Ohhh, someones in trouble~” Tina Chen calls out, she’s barely walking into the area. She’s late, again Starbucks in her hand.

Not surprised.

“Bitch” he retorts, making his way toward Fowler's office. Tina laughs lightly and blows him a mocking kiss. Gavin just rolls his eyes.

Conner and Hank rise from their work stations to start after him.

Oh great, fan-fucking-tabulous. Reed huffs some more.

He opens Fowler's door with a hard swing, his patience slips away from him quickly.

The bad buddy cop flick duo follows behind him closely. Gavin elects to stay standing, way too anxious to sit and just accept whatever shit Fowler will be throwing at him.

Hank takes a seat, the other is already taken by Conner.

He does a double take, Conner is right next to him. Two Conners?

The not Conner turns a fraction.

“The fuck is this” Gavin questions and recieves a scathing look from Fowler.

Conner shuffles quietly next to him, the movement capturing his eye as it always does. Why does he look anxious, the fuck is wrong with him.

“Reed shut up and let me speak before you go butting in, '' Fowler dictates before continuing on, “this is RK900 and he will be assigned as your new partner.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t do partners, you know this Fowler. What makes you think I need one, much less that tin can.” Reed is quick to anger, well at least he has some energy now.

Has he not been efficient enough on his own? Fowler can’t just give him some pity babysitter to fix him up like Conner did with Hank.

“You do what I tell you to do, Reed. He is top of the line and you, annoyingly enough, have the best solve rates as of now. So he goes to you.” Fowler is strong with his statements and doesn’t leave room for arguing. Which doesn’t stop Gavin.

“What the fuck! That should mean that I don't need the help of that asshole! Dump him on someone else, it doesn’t make any sense!”

“Well you better make it make sense or else you can hand your badge over, Detective.” Gavin clenches his jaw, his eyes lit with anger.

“You don’t get any special privileges Reed, especially with your disciplinary file.”

Gavin huffs again shaking his head. “Well that doesn’t explain why these two are here” he gestures to Hank and Conner wildly with his hands. He treads more lightly with his words, he’s an idiot and a dick, but he will not lose his job over something as stupid as this.

“I asked them here in case you reacted poorly to this decision, much like you did” Fowler draws.

Yeah, yeah he's disappointed, when is he not.

“Yeah, quite the show you put on there, Reed” Hank mocks.

Go back to playing house, Hank.

Reed fumes, grinding his teeth. He could be so much meaner, but he holds back. All the energy that the anger gave him rapidly left his body and he’s left with tired resentment. A cold emptiness that leaves him chilly and lacking the will to continue fighting back.

“Are we done here?” He asks in a low tone, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“Well yes-”

It doesn’t matter what came after that, Reed saw the green light to leave.

“He‘s not well, Lieutenant”

“Conner it’s…”

He walks faster, escaping the muffled voices.

He sits back at his desk and grabs for his coffee. Empty already, great. He goes to make another cup, desperately wanting to get his mind off of the shitstorm that just happened.

Every other partner Reed has ever had did not last, they just couldn’t tolerate his shitty attitude. Essentially he ran them all off, like nannys to a terrible toddler.

This one will be no different, android or not, no one can put up with him for long. At least that's how Reed reassures himself.

Before he knows it he’s back at his desk, hot coffee in his hand and an absurdly tall knock off Conner in his way.

“The fuck out of the way, tin can” Gavin grumbles not even looking up to meet RK900’s eyes.

He doesn’t move.

“Did you not fucking hear me? Are you deaf, asshole?”

He moves a fraction, and Gavin takes it with a slight shoulder check to get to his seat.

Stupid not-Conner and his ugly fucking white jacket. Was gray not terrible enough?

Another small huff to himself. He’s been doing that more and more today.

He goes back to his notes. 5 minutes has passed and not-Conner continues to stand unmoving in front of Gavin’s desk.

He tries to ignore it, but he can’t stand seeing the stark white shadow in his peripheral vision. Looming like a cage starting to close in.

“Can you not just fuckin stand there like a freak?” Gavin snaps, finally looking the RK unit in the face.

Maybe he isn’t like Connor. RK is sharp and cold with defined cheekbones and pale blue eyes. Connor is warm in demeanor and soft where RK seems impenetrable and well… intimidating.

“I am assuming that that empty desk is mine to use?”

Even his voice is different, this one is firm and lower in pitch compared to Connor’s.

Reed lags behind a beat, taking in all the information he can from what's before him. RKs suit is clean and pressed, untouched by the qualms of living. He looks shiny and brand new, but the disdain in his eyes says otherwise.

His posture is stiff and the collar on his neck more so, making RK look down with his eyes and a miniature head tilt. It makes him look condescending, physically and metaphorically looking down on him.

Gavin curls his lip, dislike drags within him. “If it gets you to fuck off than yeah, knock yourself out, tincan.”

An hour or two, or three, passes. Gavin manages to transfer his written reports onto his terminal. Using the work to blissfully tune out the presence to his right. RK900 staring blankly at the terminal with a flashing yellow light circling at his temple.

Gavin has so many questions swirling around his head, but has too big of a pride to ask them. Asking would mean being civil and he is NOT going to do that. Instead he’s elected to just simply pretend that his brand new partner doesn’t exist at all. That's all he can manage with the lack of energy he has at the moment.

Besides, it's not like his fancy new plastic counterpart is aching to talk to him anyway. He just sits there with his perfect posture in perfect silence. For once Gavin is thankful for his ability to just fall into his work, because it provides the perfect distraction.

(stay tuned for the next chapter!)

#detriot become human #gavin reed #reed900 #upgraded connor #god i love angst #angst #slow burn #enemies to lovers #i love these idiots #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer

3 notes · View notes

shadowedson · 4 years ago

Text

Catalyst

Superstition says that bad things come in threes, that the world brings three terrible knocks to your door and gives you no other choice then to open it. Perhaps, the world is just cold, the orchestra of tragedy never ceasing its siren song. Perhaps, instead, bad things come in storms. Booming thunder, wild winds and deadly lightning. A trifecta of true chaos…

Nowhere did this chaos of life and tragedy take more hold than within Inethreis’ mind, brewing and pounding in his head like the swing of an all mighty hammer. The moment he had stumbled in his doorway from the streets of Silvermoon, it all threatened to come crashing down over his head all over again, like it had so often these past few wretched weeks. He gave no greeting, no call into the dimly lit halls to his friends and family. Instead, he made for the stairs,nearly falling up them a few different times with heavy handed and sloppy steps. He did not care who heard him, he did not care who he woke, he only cared about getting there. Tears bit at his eyes like rabid dogs at his heels as he so desperately tried to outrun them, leaving his heart beating in his ears like a drum. Every single part of his body screamed, his mind falling to pieces from the inside out, shoving the doors to the back balconies wide open, before stepping out into the night and pouring rain.

His head fell back on his shoulders, his eyes squeezing themselves shut. Hard rain beat down on him, mixing with his tears as they streamed down his face in quick succession of one another. The downpour was soaking him nearly to the bone, and he saw fit to let it. Somewhere in his soul he wished it would melt his wretched body to nothing, send whatever was left of him away with the wind. But with no such luck, he opted for something different. With a deep breath in, the man let out an ungodly scream, the sound echoing off rooftops and out over the city streets. Barely even moments after he let loose another wail, his eyes shut tighter as the sound he made rung in his own ears like a bell. He found himself screaming into the night until his throat burned and he tasted blood, his whole body shaking with the violent outbursts.

Somewhere behind him he could almost feel the whole house stirring, people waking from sleep and wondering just what the fuck was going on outside. But in the moment he found he didn’t even care. Slowly he came to his knees on the stone below him, too hoarse to scream more, and just cried. The sounds were rasped and painful, leaving his throat raw and forcing him to gag. Inethreis brought himself lower to the ground, hunched over into the puddling water. By now he was not sure if the shaking was from the ice cold rain soaking into his skin, or the sheer gravity of emotion that gripped his body. But behind him, he heard the faint shifting of feet along the stone. Someone had come to check on him.

“Inethreis...it is well past midnight, come on, please get up off the floor young man. You are going to catch some kind of cold out here” Alsunir’s voice rang out behind him, speaking over the pounding of the rain on stone.

The sound of his uncle speaking in his ears forced him still for a moment, the sobs that barreled out of him catching in his throat. It made him feel sick to be seen this way, in a heap on the ground all over again. He could not even remember how many times this had been the case lately. Words would not even form, but Alsunir did not seem to need them instead, he had moved across the balcony to his nephew, the black umbrella he carried shielding away the rain and all else. Slowly, Reyes found himself lifted into the old Farstrider’s side, moved pace by pace into the massive house.

“Stay with me alright? Just keep your feet on the ground, one step at a time. We will get you warmed up and after we can talk about this…” The lord spoke in a coo, not seeming to care that the side of his nightgown was being soaked.

Still too shocked to form any coherent syllables, Inethreis opted simply to nod, biting back on another sniffle.

Moving down the great halls brought them all the way to the Library, the enormous double doors one of the many places in the home Inethreis had yet to enter. Though now, in the state of turmoil he existed in he did not have the mind to care. Instead he was leaned against the lord of the house, trying to focus on not falling flat on his face. But soon he found himself released of that burden, embraced by the plush surface of the couch Alsunir had settled him onto as gently as he could manage. Inethreis was barely processing things around the room, not the wall to floor bookcases, not the desk tucked toward the back walls, not even his Uncle’s scurrying footsteps as he moved in and out of the room to help him settle in. All of it was an empty blur of color, shapes in the candle light. His body fell weightless and cold against the cushions below him, sinking into them entirely.

He could not tell if he had fallen asleep or if he just really was finally losing it for good, moments of that night flashing through his vision. Barren winter snow stained red, the all consuming stench of death in the air, teeth and fangs as they closed around his shoulder like a vice. But more haunting then all of it was her...laying there still and unmoving. Those blank eyes only staring, never blinking and never looking away from him, reminding him that her death was his fault. All of this was his fault, his worgenism, his mother’s death, and now his mother’s eternal torment in The Maw. The catalyst to all of this was his neglect, his inattentiveness to her needs and care. He should have been at her side...and gods above did he regret it now, those horrible dead eyes haunting him like a ghost...burned in the forefront.

Now he could not even imagine where she was, what was happening to the woman who had dedicated her whole life to him. She was beyond him...beyond this world or even this realm. Sucked down into a place of empty wasteland and torment, and he had put her there.

“Let us get you out of some of these leathers Inethreis, come on my son, the fire is warm and these are waterlogging you...stay with me for just a moment okay.”

Inethreis found himself pulled back from the sheer darkness of his mind, his head snapping down to find Alsunir’s hand on his and the man’s voice in his ears again. Meeting that kind green gaze almost brought him to tears again, quickly looking away as he offered the man a muted nod. Slowly, he sat himself up from the loveseat, feeling Alsunir lightly squeeze his hand in reassurance before letting go...and for the moment it seemed to keep him grounded. The warmth of the fire filled him as he finally got a good look at the hearth in front of him, slowly starting the process of stripping away his current clothing. Just beside him on the floor, he found a few things folded up for him...a robe, a towel, and a blanket. Even in this state, the gesture left him blinking with surprise. He had entirely lost track of where his uncle was in the room's vastness, but for right now, he seemed to have privacy beside the fire.

When he finally was stripped down to pale skin, he reached for the towel to dry himself, happy for the distraction of silent self care and the crackling of the warm fire. He felt his body on a razors edge between collapsing again, driving him that much closer to the heat in hopes that it might just burn away all his pain for once. The bite of cold was one thing off his mind for now, the robe and blanket picked up from the floor with haste. First the robe, cinched in tight at the waist and leaving the black linen to flow with his body, and then the blanket almost immediately overtop and pulled as lithe as he could manage. His body finally came to a stop for the first time in minutes, shaking legs bringing him back down to settle on the loveseat. Almost instantly he felt that clarity slipping, but before he could be consumed all over again Alsunir had moved from the window to sit with him. One of the older man’s pale hands came to rest lightly on Inethreis’ shoulder, his voice quiet as he began to speak.

“I know you might not be able to talk right now, and trust me, that is okay my son. I do not expect you to.” Alsunir gave a deep sigh before continuing. “But, I have been where you are now when I lost my son, when I lost my family. I know about The Maw, you do not need to tell me that. But I promise you, I will get you everything you need to get her out of there safely.”

Inethreis found his violet eyes going wide, choking on a sob somewhere between a thank you and incoherent sound. At his shoulder he felt a squeeze before he finally collapsed into the man’s fatherly arms, feeling them close right around him as he sobbed. But rather than chide him, Alsunir simply swayed and continued speaking.

“It will take some time of course, but not more then a week to get ready. For right now though, I think you need to focus on basics my son. Sleeping, eating, hygiene, and company. I am so proud of you and how you fight, finding your way to tackle unimaginable fears, even the way you found help for your shifting. Your lovers are likely worried sick in their bed for you...people care about you little one. I know I am neither of your parents, but if you are living under my roof you are family. It will be okay and we will get you through this together…”

His words trailed off in Inethreis’ ears, but their meaning still resonated through him, their meaning still reaching well into his core. Wrapped up like this he felt safety and warmth he had never truly known, the love of a father and the soft hand of comfort. It eased him like nothing ever had, even as he sobbed and rasped against him. For once the pain felt ephemeral, he felt as though he could breath...that things might just be okay. Alsunir did not speak, did not shove him away, Instead he felt a hand rise into his hair, fingers easing through the raven locks as he rocked inethreis as one might a child. Inethreis found himself losing track of time, not knowing how long he sat there crying or how long Alsunir rocked him, and he also found that he did not care. Soon, he felt his eyes closing and it left him with only one thought in all the world…

He was loved, and it would all be okay.

( Mentions for: @lifeofaranger and @varment-wra )

#inethreis #wra #wra rp #world of warcraft #writing #zathean #yote #wrymrest accord #Inethreis writing

12 notes · View notes

onthepageoftears · 5 years ago

Text

A Humble Favor (Jaskier x Reader)// Witcher

A/N: This is another entry for @thewitcherbingo! Also, I’m mostly writing these (and my other imagines) as a gender-neutral reader :) Enjoy!

Summary: Jaskier asks you to attend a banquet with him, but there’s a catch.

Bingo Square Filled: Fake Marriage

Warnings: swearing!! slight angst??, fluffff, mentions of drinking

Word Count: 1,994

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

Jaskier had asked you to do a lot of things. ‘Y/N, carry my Lute for a moment.’ ‘Y/N, see what Geralt is up to.’ ‘Y/N, tell me what rhymes with silver.’ ‘Y/N, fill my bath with water and add that special lavender you use.’

But this…this was too far.

“Are you fucking insane?” You could feel the veins pop from your skull, your face red from anger.

Jaskier held his hands up as if taming a rabid dog. “Now, calm down a moment—“

“You calm down Julian. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“I assure you, I do not kid.”

“Oh, really? Because pretending to be your spouse feels like a big joke to me.”

“Fiancé.”

“Fuck off.”

At this very opportune moment, Geralt happened to walk in the room. He was fresh from a relaxing bath, clad in his newly cleaned witcher gear — though now, he walked into quite the shit storm.

He shifted his golden eyes between you and Jaskier, a grunt of impatience settling on his lips. “What’s this about.”

You settled on responding with a harsh glare and a clenched jaw. Geralt’s presence dialed down your anger, mostly because you knew if you tried to lunge at Jaskier he would catch you in an instant. Still, the fumes seeped from your veins, bringing your blood to a near boil.

Jaskier cleared his throat. “I humbly asked Y/N to attend the banquet with me this evening.” You forced a laugh. Geralt slightly lifted his brows, waiting for Jaskier to finish his statement. He didn’t.

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier dramatically sighed. “I need Y/N to pose as my fiancé. Happy?”

“Not even close.”

Geralt’s arm shot out as if to hold you back from attacking the bard. “And what’s in it for you?”

“Well, the pleasure of a friend’s company, is all.” He feigned a tight-lipped smile, then faltered under Geralt’s stare. “And the chance to woo some of the maids there.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and removed himself from the conversation. He sent you a look of understanding, as much as he could, and gave you the space to attack Jaskier if you wanted to.

Instead, you squinted at the bard, mulling over his stupidity. “Do you really think these maids you’re after will fool around with you if you have a fiancé?”

“Oh-ho-ho. It’ll only encourage them.” You stifled a laugh, making Jaskier scoff. “You doubt my romancing abilities?”

“How could I doubt something that doesn’t exist.” The words slipped through your gritted teeth, making Jaskier frown. You let out a dry laugh, “You do realize I have more important things to do than pose as the poor sap who might marry you. Like, I don’t know, working my own job?”

It was true. On any other given day, you might’ve said yes to posing as Jaskier’s fiancé, just for the hell of it. It would be a great story to tell at parties — if you had time for them. But Jaskier knew very well that recently you had been working your ass off at the local tavern — you didn’t dream of being a server, but it made enough coin to hold you over and have enough to save up. And saving up was essential for you to start your very own tailoring shop. It pissed you off that Jaskier didn’t even think of this, didn’t think of you. He was being selfish, like Geralt often said he was.

You retied your apron behind your back and stared the bard down like maybe your glare could burn holes in his skin. “You may be able to convince Geralt to attend your events, but I will have no part in it.” Your voice had a finality to it that made you seem more confident than you felt, but still, you stomped towards the door, hoping to not see his face for the rest of the night.

“I will pay you.” His voice reached your ear just as your hand touched the door handle. The bard ended his sentence with a sing-song voice, making your skin crawl. You didn’t mind Jaskier’s singing — in fact, sometimes you enjoyed it (though you’d never tell him that). What bothered you was that he knew he had you wrapped around his calloused, lute-playing finger.

You turned around. “How much?”

Jaskier’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. “I just knew you’d come around.”

“I haven’t come around to shit.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “How. Much.”

Jaskier pursed his lips. “Twenty crowns.”

“Psh.” You rolled your eyes with a snort. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am most definitely serious.”

You squinted your eyes at him and walked further into the room. “How much are you making?”

Jaskier clenched his teeth. “Seven hundred—“

“You are making seven hundred crowns and you were offering twenty?”

“You are playing a small part in the night—“

“Small part my arse—“

“Geralt was my bodyguard and didn’t get paid anything—“

“But Geralt wasn’t hanging off of your arm like a piece of meat.” You shifted in your spot and lifted your chin. “I want four hundred crowns."

Jaskier’s mouth dropped open. “Fo-four hundred? That’s more than half!”

“So you can do math.” You pursed your lips and narrowed your eyes at him. “Three-fifty.”

Jaskier double-taked. Once he realized you were serious, he slammed his agape mouth closed and clenched his jaw. “One hundred.”

“Three-fifty.”

“One-fifty.”

“Three-fifty.”

“Fine!” Jaskier lifted his arms in surrender. “Two hundred. And—“ He held a hand out to stop you from complaining. “I will pay for your every alcoholic desire after the banquet.”

You quirked a brow. To be honest, you would have settled at a mere fifty crowns, but watching him sweat under pressure was too much fun. Plus, he’d be paying for your much-needed drinks after the shit-show that would undoubtedly be the banquet.

You gave Jaskier one firm nod and stuck out your hand. “Deal.”

“Oh, thank the gods.” Jaskier clenched a hand to his chest and breathed for air he didn’t know he needed. When he reached to take your hand, instead of settling on a firm shake, he began pulling you towards his dresser. “We are already running past schedule, come on.”

After that, everything seemed to move a mile a minute. Jaskier handed you your outfit and sent you off to wash up and get ready. Soon, you were freshly bathed and dressed and met Jaskier just outside the tavern.

He hesitated before helping you into the carriage sent by the royal family; you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. You had never gone to an event like this or worn an outfit like the one you had on. Your nervousness grew in your stomach the closer you got to the castle and only worsened when Jaskier nudged you to exit the carriage.

It wasn’t like you were the only nervous one. Jaskier was tapping his fingers against anything and everything, almost as if he was practicing the songs he would play for the night. He was still tapping his fingers as the two of you were guided further into the castle by the guards. You let out a low sigh and took his nervously fidgeting hand in your own.

He leaned closer to you and whispered, “Way to play it up.” You rolled your eyes at his wink, but the feeling in your stomach didn’t disappear.

As you two walked into the banquet, Jaskier placed his arm around your waist. You were surprised by his forward action, but then again, you weren’t. He was a very touchy person — just not often towards you.

You awkwardly smiled at the guests who made eye contact, hoping you didn’t seem too out of place. Lucky for you, Jaskier seemed more out of place than you did. He didn’t seem to know anyone there, which made sense, because they were pretty much all from royalty. It made you feel a bit better, though you still cringed at the lack of interaction you two had.

You leaned into Jaskier to whisper. “Some crowd, huh?”

He chuckled. “Once they drink some, it’ll be more fun. Trust me.”

You decided to believe him.

On the way to the area of the banquet hall where Jaskier had to set up his instruments, a guest of the banquet walked past you two; he stopped after looking at Jaskier. “Excuse me, sir. Your doublet. Where did you get it?”

Jaskier perked up at the question. “Actually, my lovely fiancé made it.” He gestured to you with a proud smile.

You stuttered at the sudden attention but managed to curtsy.

“Excellent craftsmanship.”

Jaskier practically gushed. “Isn’t it?”

You gave Jaskier that doublet after his favorite was ruined on a trip with Geralt. In your nervousness during the arrival of the banquet, you hadn’t even realized that he wore it to such a prestigious event. Your stomach flipped with a different kind of feeling, but you ignored it as you helped Jaskier set everything up.

Throughout the night, you watched Jaskier perform for the guests. He was right; as soon as people started drinking, the mood of the room shifted and people were dancing in no time. You even had a few laughs yourself, especially when Jaskier would wink at you during certain songs. At one point your face hurt so much from smiling, and you were afraid you might need permanent surgery to put your face back to normal.

After the banquet had ended, the two of you decided to walk back to the tavern, as it wasn’t too far. Anyway, the night was perfect for a walk. You held your shoes in one hand and looked up at the sky, which was sprinkled with stars brighter than any other night.

Your eyes turned back to Jaskier, who was plucking strings on his lute. It was amazing that even after a whole night of performing, he still had the energy and desire to play some music. You supposed that was how you felt about certain things as well, but it was something you particularly noticed in the bard.

“It wasn’t that bad, the banquet.” You surprised him with your words, making him look up from the lute. His eyes were warm, his smile even warmer. You looked towards the road ahead. “Pretending to be your fiancé didn’t make me vomit like I thought it would.”

“But there was a slight gag, wasn’t there?” You smirked and caught the glint of playfulness in Jaskier’s eye just before he turned to get something from his pocket. “Almost forgot your payment.” He pulled out a pouch full of coin and held it out for your taking.

“Right. Thanks.” You frowned as he placed the pouch in your hand.“This feels like more than two hundred crowns."

“You need it more than I do.” You raised your brows at his statement, but he only laughed. “For your shop.”

Your eyebrows shot up even further. You were surprised he had listened when you gushed about your dreams one night a while back. It was crazy to think that just this evening you were cursing his name at the thought of him being selfish. Now, you shook your head with a smile, trying to urge the blush on your face to go away.

But that smile soon turned to a frown as a thought entered your mind. “You didn’t leave with anyone tonight.”

“I’m leaving with you, aren’t I?” In the darkness, he couldn’t see your growing blush. “Besides, there will be other banquets.”

You nodded, letting a long sigh escape your lips. It had been a long night, and your feet were killing you, but the tugging feeling in your gut made you clear your throat. You turned to Jaskier and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I believe you promised me a drink.”

#thewitcherbingo #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #the witcher imagine #jaskier #the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #witcher imagine #reader insert #joey batey #imagine #drabble #fic #witcher fic #writing #my writing #self insert imagine

373 notes · View notes

giuliafc · 4 years ago

Text

Stuck in a Cabin (with you) chapter 3

Read on Ao3 || FFN || Wattpad (link to chapter 1)

Summary: Summoned to save his Lady's life, Adrien gets stuck with her in a cabin during a blizzard. Identities get revealed, feelings come out...but who's been plotting to kill Marinette? Will the culprit be punished? Read to find the answer :) (Adrienette)

Read previous chapter here on Tumblr

Written by: JuliaFC

Betas: Khanofallorcs, Agrestebug, Etoile-Lead-Sama and genxha. Thank you all so much!

Cover Art credit: Rosehealer02 on Deviantart

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc, TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Chapter 3 — Prince Chat-ming

“WHERE IS SHE, TIKKI?” cried Chat Noir when they reached the lake. The place was silent and not even the sound of the cars in the distance seemed to come to his ear, probably muffled by the billowing wind and the snow that had already wrapped the whole park in its white canopy. If he hadn’t been this terrified, the view would have been breathtaking. But the adrenaline rush running through his body kept his concentration on the task. His eyes darted around, looking for the signs he had seen the evening before when he had come here after the first half of the photoshoot. But he couldn’t find any, they were all vanished in thin air.

A really bad feeling started growing in his gut. This looked like a set up!

“I don’t know…” admitted the kwami, breaking his thread of thought. “I had gotten a couple of landmarks but the new snow must have covered them.” She zoomed away and started zipping around the whole length of the lake, appearing to be always more reckless and anxious. She zipped at the centre of the lake mostly, then she went on the other side, then back there again. Until she erupted in a scream.

“Here, Chat Noir, here!” She pointed at where she wanted him to be.

He ran as fast as he could, while he picked up the blue slice of cheese and put it into his mouth shouting, “POWER UP!” he barely managed to transform into his aqua form before diving into the water. For a second he literally turned into ice. God, it was bloody freezing! The water seemed to be stabbing his skin everywhere even if he was wearing his suit. But he forced himself to get used to the temperature and to the dim light quickly, and his gaze started darting in the water trying to find his Lady.

And that’s when he saw her. His heart stopped.

‘No. It can’t be. It can’t be her. No, no, no, no, no… that’s impossible!’

“MARINETTE!!” he screamed, as he swam towards the motionless form and grabbed her with one hand in a manic frenzy, using his enhanced swimming capabilities to get to the surface quickly. It didn’t seem to work, his limbs were too cold and the water felt almost thick against his arm. Shoot. He looked at Marinette’s face and his heart skipped a beat.

His very good friend Marinette. The one whose smile always lit up his day. His everyday Ladybug. The cute, shy, awesome girl who was also one of the strongest people he knew and had been able to stand up to his dad when they had gone to New York. Creative, sweet, determined Marinette. She was his Lady. How did she manage to trick him that well? He clearly remembered having suspected her, but having changed his mind when Kwamibuster attacked because he saw her next to Ladybug! Did she use the Fox Miraculous? She was too clever for her own good.

‘FOCUS! Don’t think about it. Save her now. Freak out later!’

Suddenly, he thought back to the time they faced Evillustrator, when Marinette had shown him how to use his own baton. His lips curled into a small smile. Of course. He picked up his baton from the small of his back and extended it, while holding it tight. The baton reached the bottom of the lake and then started propelling them up and up, until they were out of the water. He waited until it reached a long enough length to have a panoramic view of the lake, and then used the baton to make himself and his Lady fall to the snow-covered grass on the shore. His eyes were full of tears as he held Marinette bridal style to his chest, his heart pounding inside his throat. Was he too late? She was so pale! And cold!

“S-SHE’S N-NOT B-B-BREAT-T-HING!” he said with his teeth chattering, in utter panic, as his ear pushed on her chest to see if she had a heartbeat. A new layer of snow was starting to dust her figure and her hair was already almost covered.

“She must have started to drown, Chat Noir! You need to help her breathe.”

Chat Noir tried to think, although the shivers running through his body and the chattering of his own teeth were so distracting. “I-I n-need t-to… C-P-R…” he managed to say, but then he hesitated.

“What are you waiting for, Chat Noir? Please help her!” begged Tikki. “I can’t do it.”

Although the cold was still biting at him like a rabid dog and he felt his hands slowly turning into ice, he couldn’t help blushing as he nodded warily at Tikki’s plea. Luckily, his father had demanded that he take a first aid course when he had started modeling, as part of the health and safety regulations of the Gabriel brand, and there he had been explained what to do when performing CPR. He knew he had to do it, or she would die.

But it still felt so much like a kiss.

‘Focus, Adrien. She’s dying!’ he thought and gave himself a firm slap in the face to shake himself up. With a determined frown, he moved her head up by pushing on her chin, to give her more room to breathe. Then he put his hands on her chest as he had been shown in the course and started compressing (why had that been such a long time ago? Shouldn’t he have gotten refreshers from time to time, he wondered), trying to remember what to do and how long to count.

Thirty compressions.

Then he gulped and with a firm movement, he opened her mouth and started blowing air into it.

One. two.

Repeat. Chest.

Thirty compressions.

Repeat. Mouth.

One. two.

Repeat. Chest.

Thirty compressions.

Repeat. Mouth.

One. two.

His heart was racing madly in his chest, hoping that he was doing it correctly, as he remembered from the course that if it was performed the wrong way it could have been even more detrimental.

‘Please, Marinette. Please breathe! Breathe for me!’

Hands on her chest. Thirty compressions.

Air in her mouth. One. T—

Marinette started coughing and a massive sigh of relief filled his lungs. He suddenly remembered something that his instructor had said and refrained from hugging her, paying attention to move her a little on the side so she wouldn’t choke again on the water coming out of her mouth. The sound of her laborious breaths was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Now that she had breathed a little, he dared picking her head up and gave her a hug, tears flowing down his eyes on his cheeks, almost getting frozen mid way.

“I need to take her to the hospital,” he announced, picking her up bridal style. She had fallen unconscious again.

“She needs to be warmed up, Chat Noir, and quickly. Do you know where the closest hospital is?” asked Tikki, zipping in front of him and floating on his nose.

He sighed. “No idea. But,” he picked up his baton from the ground, “we can easily check.” He turned on his communicator and saw yet another news alert. He opened it up and saw Nadja Chamack already talking. “—ed. I highlight: Code Red. Stay in. Stay safe. More accidents have been reported on the road. The queue at the local hospitals has increased to three to four hours just to be registered, and even longer to be seen. If you don’t need to go out, sta—” The screen of his baton flickered and turned black. Chat Noir blinked and gave it a shake, trying to get the screen to turn on again.

“What’s going on?” he said to himself, not really expecting an answer.

“Either your phone has died in the cabin or there’s a loss of GPS signal so big that the baton cannot function properly,” said Tikki.

“Shoot!” cursed Chat Noir under his breath. “My phone was nearly dead earlier. What do I do now?”

Tikki sighed. “You heard Madame Chamack. Marinette doesn’t have three to four hours to wait, she needs to be looked after now.”

“Usually, emergencies are dealt with much faster,” argued Chat.

“Can you take that chance?” Tikki looked at him with utter concern in her big blue eyes. Chat Noir lowered his gaze.

“No,” he said in defeat. Then he looked at Tikki again. “I’ll look after her. The cabin should have some blankets, and it’s much warmer than outside.” He saw the wee Goddess of Creation finally curl her lips into a smile and he held Marinette more safely in his arms, bridal style.

“S-so c-cold—” muttered Marinette in his arms, shivering like a leaf. That was the final incentive. Chat Noir grabbed his baton and used it to propel himself forward, trying to reach the cabin as quickly as possible.

oOoOoOoOoOo

“Claws in,” said Adrien as he placed Marinette carefully on the small sofa in the cabin. He made to look for a blanket into the cabinet near the heating system, but as he was walking towards it, Plagg zoomed in front of his face.

“CHEESE!” he demanded.

Adrien raised an eyebrow. “You’ve eaten it all earlier, Plagg. How big is your stomach exactly?”

“You have no idea!” whined the wee black furball, but Adrien didn’t give him any more attention. He opened the press and started rummaging for a blanket, which he found almost immediately. He walked straight back to Marinette and made to wrap her under the blanket.

“That won’t be enough, Adrien,” said Tikki, flying in front of him and stopping him. “You will only make the blanket wet.”

“What do you mean? She’s cold, she needs to be covered up.”

Tikki kept her tiny body between the blanket and Marinette. “You need to take her clothes off. She can’t warm up wearing freezing wet clothes.”

“WHAT?” Adrien's face flushed the color of Ladybug’s suit. “Tikki, I-I c-can’t undress her!”

Tikki gave him a scrutinous look and frowned. “Why? You have two perfectly functional arms and hands. You can certainly take her clothes off.”

“I-I’M A BOY!”

“And she’s a girl who could die of hypothermia!” Plagg appeared munching a crumb of cheese he must have found somewhere in the room, and floated next to Tikki, giving him an amused stare. He folded his tiny paws on his chest and added scornfully, “Who cares if you’re a boy, a girl or even a dog?”

“B-B-B-B-U-T…” Adrien started breathing heavily. “She’s going to kill me!”

“I don’t think so,” said Tikki and Plagg continued, “You need to do it or she will die. I’m sure she will be grateful, gamin.”

“C-cold…” muttered Marinette from the couch. He dashed to her to check if she had woken up — but no, she was still unconscious, probably talking in her sleep. God, she was so pale, she was still shivering badly, her teeth were a constant chattering and her lips were blue. He touched her hands, and they were pieces of ice.

He took a big breath. “O-okay,” he said and started taking her coat off, and then her black blazer, and put everything on the ground next to the small sofa. When she was left in her bra and underwear, he gulped and hesitated.

“Would this be enough?” he asked, looking at his two small companions with a fearful frown. To keep himself occupied he started drying her skin with a dry towel. She was still shivering.

“Would you like to sleep with freezing wet underwear on?” asked Plagg in response.

No, he wouldn’t. But… he couldn’t possibly justify. No, he couldn’t. He ran a hand through his hair and thought carefully of the situation, scratching firmly the nape of his neck. He tried to gain some time by picking a towel and starting to dry her hair. He suddenly realised that she was still having her hair combed into her pigtails, so he put the towel down to take off the elastic bands that held them together.

Shoot. He’d never thought that it would be that hard to detangle elastic bands from wet hair. He felt her wincing as he gave the elastic a firm push and took it off. Quite a few strands of hair came off with it—he felt terrible, but he picked up the towel and carried on drying her hair for a few moments, trying to take away most of the wetness.

He still had the other problem, the wet underwear, which he didn’t want to remove. At least not without her being covered. Wait, that’s it! His face brightened and his lips curled in a triumphant smile, as he’d just had an idea and it could really work. He picked up the blanket and placed it on the now soaking wet leather sofa. Then he quickly dashed to the cabinet and got another blanket, which he wrapped around Marinette’s body. Good, now that she was covered, he breathed easier. He moved her towards him and put his hands inside the blanket, starting to fiddle with the little hooks on her bra. Finally, after some effort he managed to open it up and take it off, with some struggle (he was trying to prevent the blanket from falling off as he did so). Then, he picked up a smaller towel and passed it blindly on her wet skin to dry it, making sure that he wasn’t touching anything inappropriate with his bare hands. But as he proceeded to move to the other piece of lingerie that was left on her, he stared at his hands, literally shaking.

“Told you he was useless, Sugarcube,” muttered Plagg from somewhere behind him, his voice full of mockery and mischief. Adrien turned his head to glare at this little friend.

“I’m not,” he argued.

“You are,” argued back Plagg. “Take that piece of fabric off already. You covered her, right? You won’t see anything.”

Adrien sucked his breath in. His heart was in his throat right now. He moved his hands underneath the blanket and had to run them on her body trying to find the border of her knickers. Oh God, she was so cold! When he found the underwear, he pulled it off, let it fall on the floor on top of the other clothes and gave even that part a blind and very quick drying.

When he let even the towel slip on the floor, he breathed better, his head resting against the blanket that wrapped Marinette. Thank God, that bit was done. He thought he was going to die! He carefully let go of Marinette and placed her on top of the blanket he had wrapped on the sofa.

“Good, about time,” muttered Plagg. Again, the wee black furball zipped in front of his nose and looked at him, a gleam of mockery shining through his electric green eyes. “Now it’s your turn.”

Adrien gave Plagg the most confused look ever. “Huh?”

“Adrien,” said Tikki moving next to Plagg, as her little paw touched Adrien’s cheek. “Marinette needs body heat. You need to undress and get under that blanket with her, and hug her until she warms up.”

His heart stopped. “I NEED TO DO WHAT?” he squealed, his eyes as big as saucers as he looked at Tikki in pure and utter terror. "She's naked, Tikki!"

“Come on, you’ve always wanted to do this. Take your clothes off and cuddle her already!” Plagg snorted.

Tikki blinked and then rolled her eyes. “Stinkysock! You’ve got no tact, at all.”

“It's not a question of tact. I know him, Sugarcube. If we let him take his time, Pigtails is going to freeze to death.” Plagg snorted again. “Gamin, come on. Man up and do your job. You want to protect her, right?”

“Adrien, please. The longer you wait the worse Marinette will get. Do it for me. Or for h—”

“—or for whomever. As long as you do it. Her lips are getting bluer than Duusu.”

Adrien gave them a pleading look. Then he gulped, looked at Marinette’s blue lips, shivering limbs and pale complexion and gave them another pleading look.

“Please, Adrien, we would do it ourselves if we could, but we’re too small!”

Adrien whimpered, but his hands started working their way to his coat. He took his coat off and his skin was greeted with the cold temperature of the cabin. God, it was freezing! Did the heater even work? He hadn’t turned it off before getting out of the cabin, it had been on all day! He proceeded to take off his overshirt, and then his black t-shirt. He shivered.

“Ugh!” he muttered and folded his arms around his chest, trying to warm up. The heater was at full heat, he noted, but the cabin was still freezing.

“Come on!” ordered Plagg. Adrien glared at him, but stood up and took his jeans off. Uh, bloody hell, he had goosebumps!

“What are you waiting for, Christmas?” asked Plagg when Adrien had been left with only his boxers to cover him. Adrien forced himself to get out of his self-induced panic and slipped into the blanket, shaky hands reaching the body of the girl of his dreams and pulling her close.

She. Was. A. Piece. Of. Ice! Oh God!!

He gasped so loudly that Tikki flew near him and looked at him with a frown.

“Are you okay?” she asked worriedly.

“Just being spineless,” spurted Plagg mockingly, gaining another glare from his chosen.

“She’s so cold!” whimpered Adrien, but forced himself to embrace her firmly with his arms and squeezed her against his chest. He wrapped his body around her, trying to keep contact with as much of her skin as possible. His hands started rubbing her back and arms, trying to create heat from friction.

Slowly, very slowly, so slowly that for a while he thought that Tikki and Plagg had been mistaken and he really should have taken her to the hospital, Marinette began warming up. As she warmed up, the rigidity in her limbs faded and without waking up, she started hugging him back.

When he realised that Marinette was finally warm and out of danger of hypothermia, Adrien detangled himself from her hold and let himself fall off the front of the sofa.

“Are you hurt?” asked Plagg, looking at him with no real concern from the cushion he had placed himself.

“No,” answered Adrien, “Marinette isn’t frozen anymore. I want to find some clothes to change her into. You know, to prevent her from killing me when she wakes up.” He shivered as the freezing cold of the cabin hit his bare skin, but he proceeded towards the wardrobe.

Plagg sighed and shook his head. “I told you way too many times that you worry too much, gamin. Sleep and when she wakes up she can dress herself!”

“At least a t-shirt, come on…” muttered Adrien chattering his teeth. He rummaged among the spare photoshoot clothes that were left in the cabin — sometimes a t-shirt or a pair of trousers didn’t fit the ensemble and had to be changed. There was no lingerie (and if there had been, Adrien wouldn’t even have touched it. Ew!), but after a quick scan, he finally emerged from the pile holding an XXL t-shirt that he would easily be able to put on Marinette. It was so oversized that he was sure it would cover enough of her minute figure to make it safe. It wasn’t really nice to look at, but it was something.

He approached Marinette and lifted her head softly to put the neck hole of the t-shirt on. Then he proceeded to put one of her arms in the arm hole, and as he was doing that he noticed that Marinette had opened her eyes. Blood drained from his face.

“Mhhhhh,” she murmured, and drifted off back to sleep instantly. Adrien breathed a sigh of relief. He finished to fit her arm on the t-shirt and then moved her slightly to put on her other arm, making sure that the blanket was covering Marinette’s chest. When the t-shirt was on, he pulled it down and admired his work. Yes, it was reasonably okay, the t-shirt was covering her enough.Of course she was still naked underneath it, but at least it was one layer to separate her from… him. With one firm movement, he buried himself again underneath the blanket, and as if she’d been there waiting for it, Marinette wrapped herself around him again subconsciously.

Soon after that, Adrien’s adrenaline rush dissipated. Marinette was finally warm and soft against his body and the smell of coconut and wildflower coming from her hair hit his nostrils. Her regular breathing was tickling the crook of his neck, and he found himself gently stroking her hair, the only part of her body that was still a bit damp, and cold. Her hug had grown stronger as her temperature raised, and now she was holding him tightly.

It was becoming always more difficult for him to keep his eyes open. He hadn’t thought about it as he panicked trying to rescue her, but the run and the manic CPR session, had really taken a toll on him, even if he’d been transformed. Add to that the long day in school and the even longer afternoon posing for the photoshoot—Adrien was exhausted. He placed a light kiss on her forehead.

“Mhhhhh, me and you against the world, mon Chaton,” she murmured in his ear.

His heart started racing as a smile curled his lips. He grabbed one of her hands, tugged around his waist, and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“Always, My Lady,” he whispered before drifting off to sleep.

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

Author’s Note:

Hi again! Here’s chapter 3. Marinette is safe. Adrien… hum… don’t know about that XD

In the next instalment of “Stuck in a cabin (with you)”, “Trapped”:

— “What can be more urgent than the ceiling risking to fall on our head?”

— “Look at me, I’m the IMAGE of calm.”

— “Well, this gentlecat deserved a reward, right?”

So… I hope that you enjoyed the fluff at the end of the chapter. This isn’t the end, though. Let me know what you thought about it and drop me a comment! I will continue soon :) can’t promise I will publish every week, but let me know what you think and I’ll publish as soon as I can. Please subscribe if you’re interested in knowing what is going to happen, so you will know when the next update is!

And please check out my other WIPs, “When Magic Fails”, “Caught in the Loop”, “Errata Corrige” and “La Caverne du Papillon d’Or”!

Last but not least, as usual, if you read this and you’re not part of our wonderful Discord server already, but you enjoy reading, writing and talking about Miraculous, please join our Discord server, Miraculous Fanworks (for people on FFN, discord dot gg slash mlfanworks). See you there soon. Not sure when I will update this story but it won't be too long! Promise!

5 notes · View notes