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masterwords · 3 years ago

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burst the clouds

Summary: Hotch has a procedure and really really wants a purple slushy.

Warnings: hurt/medical procedure, food, sedatives

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 2.9k

Notes: I basically cannot write right now, and I'm very sorry. I was just in the mood for very soft and very affectionate domestic Hotchgan. This centers around an outpatient scope, but it's all just SO SOFFFFFTTT. It all started because of the 50 Types of Kisses Prompt "One person pouting only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person" and snowballed from there.

***

“I hate this.”

It was just a scope, but then, anything could become a monster if you let it. Hotch didn't usually let it, didn't have time to stare down his monthly calendar and the scheduled appointments. It wasn't worth it, most of the time. Every appointment was written in pencil, easily erased and moved to another date in the swing of his yearly pendulum. It was lucky his doctor trusted him enough to talk to him by phone when it came time to renew certain medications, it was either that or he'd have to stop taking them after rescheduling enough times that he began getting threatening letters from the office. Profuse apologies helped placate them, and a new system was developed...but he would have to make some sacrifices on their behalf as well.

One of those was agreeing to semi-annual scans in place of a number of check-ups. All that to say, he really should be used to this by now, but after a week of worsening stomach pain (he called it discomfort, Derek told him to stop trying to find more palatable ways to describe it and give it the proper name) and more than a few nights spent sick in the bathroom or sleeping sitting up on the couch, he had to make time for his doctor.

Derek smiled easily, lounging in the waiting room chair. It was too early to be full, just a few old people sipping coffee from styrofoam cups and the two of them. Aaron was fidgeting, knee bouncing, counting holes in the ceiling. It was driving Derek more than a little crazy and taking all of his restraint not to pin his legs in place.

“They're gonna knock you out soon, take it easy.”

It wasn't easy, though. Hospitals were never easy, not with Aaron. They hadn't been easy before Foyet but they certainly got harder after. Emergencies were one thing, that rush of adrenaline or blissful unconsciousness relegated most of that fear to the back of the room where it belonged but these...the ones he could stare at on the calendar, or had time to prepare himself for, there was an uneasy week of walking on eggshells that lead up to a morning of landmines. The promise of sedation was only minimally appealing, he really needed to be knocked out for the entire week in preparation. At this juncture, sitting in the chair with what felt like a burning ball of lead in his stomach, the only positive he could figure was that at the end of it there might be relief from his pain. His discomfort, which had definitely gone beyond the scope of that word in the last two days. At first they had suggested an MRI, and it was still on the table if symptoms persisted without any findings and that was worse. He hated the machine, found lying still to be oppressive and difficult, was always a nervous wreck about the results, the thrumming of the machine hurt his ears. There was a laundry list that went on for ages, and never once included simple fear. He hated it because he was afraid in there. Unable to move, lost in his thoughts and to put it mildly, the thoughts that swirled through the pounding in his skull were always deeply unpleasant. If he could push past those, he had to focus intently on stopping the electrical pulses pulling his fingers together, a nervous habit of self-soothing that didn't just vanish because someone told you to hold still.

So, lost in contemplative silence, hoping and praying that this procedure would give them whatever answers he needed, his knee bounced until they called him back. Safely in the solitude of the hallway, Derek slipped his hand into Aaron's and continued walking. Rubber soles echoed in the corridor and Aaron rubbed his fingertips over Derek's knuckles instead of his own thumb, wearing at the skin and dancing over sinew and bone. Derek tensed his hand, pulsed his fingers and kept him moving forward only a few steps behind the nurse but in their own world.

A hospital gown and slipper socks with grippers, a small cup of shocking white pills that would be backed up by an IV later if needed, another chair, a quiet room. Aaron's knee bounced again, up and down, quickly while Derek tapped out a few emails. They were off for the day, but that didn't mean the work stopped. It was a constant torrent, even on weekends. Especially on weekends. As he neared the bottom of his mailbox, Aaron's knee slowed and he peered over to catch heavy lids and slow blinking, the look of fear receding and being replaced by a tired reluctance to accept his fate.

“You're thinking about that slushy I promised, aren't you?”

Aaron hummed and let his head drop back against the wall, eyes drifting shut in sleepy contemplation. He shivered and folded his arms over his chest, tucked his hands in tight. “Grape.” It was going to feel good. They promised his throat wouldn't be too sore afterward, but he'd had enough experience to know otherwise. It was going to burn, and he hadn't eaten anything since dinner the night before...that slushy was the holy grail as far as he was concerned. It was pulling him through. He salivated just thinking about it, though the drugs may have been more to blame for that. In truth, it was the first thing that didn't turn his stomach in days and in many small ways he knew he was making too much of it but as the dense fog settled over his senses, that burden didn't weigh too much.

By the time he was in the wheelchair, he was swimming in a pool of icy grape flavored purple dreams and smiling. “Love you,” he mumbled and Derek leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Be nice to them back there.”

All Derek could think as they wheeled Aaron away from him was that he should have said he loved him back.

He couldn't really blame himself, though. The ultrasound shouldn't take too long, an hour to insert the little camera on its string down his throat, take some pictures and give him back. At least that was how Derek chose to think about it, because if he got more technical about it (as Spencer had, many times, over the last few days because it isn't a camera on a string, it's an endoscopic ultrasound and see...he tuned him out at a certain point, mostly for Spencer's safety) it made his own stomach hurt. Derek thought he'd done a good job of not showing his own mounting fear. The same fear that gnawed at him each time, what if they find something? What if a routine check shows them something terrible? As Aaron had calmed, as his pulsed slowed and they brought in the wheelchair to take him back, Derek had looked down and saw that his own knee was bobbing with some ferocity where it hadn't before. His heel clicked against the linoleum floor and his ears heard the faint echo of a word. A name, chanted in the cadence of his anxiety. Foyet. Foyet. Foyet. A call from Jessica asking if Aaron had decided on a flavor, if they had any idea how long it would be so she'd make it back in time after dropping Jack off for a soccer game he assured them it was okay to miss and he was distracted enough to pace a little in the small waiting area. Pacing was better than the bouncing knee. Pacing was productive, it was moving, it took real time. That damn bouncing knee was nervous energy he couldn't afford.

Jess arrived with her hands full right on time, at least the time they'd been given. A huge hot coffee for Derek and a purple slushy for Aaron that she sat on a small end table covered in out of date magazines. They paced together, going over the plan for the day, the rest of the weekend, what the prognosis might look like. A lot of useless speculation.

“Jack wasn't mad, was he?”

“No, he's fine, really. He said his team is going to lose anyway...probably a lie to make you feel better about being bad dads.” She smirked and followed him around the room, burning a path through the worn old office carpet and watching the clock tick slowly further and further away from when they thought he'd be done. Jess stared mournfully at the slushy that was now less slush and more juice. Bad juice. Flavored purple sugar water. She wrinkled her nose and frowned.

“Shit,” she whispered, swirling the red spoon straw in the liquid. “What's taking them so long?”

A new nurse appeared shortly after with Aaron still in a gown, his face pale and drawn. “Well we had a few hiccups but we got through it. Had to up his dose a little after we got him in there so he's really gonna be out of it for a while. They'll call with the results in a few days, in the meantime...you know the drill.”

You know the drill, Aaron hated that the most. Even in his hazy, half-awake daze he knew what that meant...it had been the same for years, and would be maybe for the rest of his life. Semi-annual scans, labwork and pills...the chance at a somewhat healthy life taken from him. He tried not to give it too much thought or time, he focused on it only as much as he needed. Pulling his pills from the little plastic rainbow box on his kitchen counter while he waited for the coffee to brew (and forcing them down with that first blissful burning gulp), making sure expiration dates and refill dates were double and triple checked, doctor's appointments in pencil on the calendar months ahead of time. None of it seemed to dominate his days anymore, just background noise, until something upset the balance. In this case, the doctor thought maybe a rogue stomach bug that his body just couldn't seem to fight off completely...they'd know in a few days. Until then, business as usual. Discomfort or pain, it didn't matter what it was called at this point. Nausea, insomnia, it all fell under the same you know the drill heading.

His eyes lit on the slushy cup and his smile followed, lopsided and slow but hitting Jess like a freight train. She realized, right then, that she should have tossed it. Gotten rid of the evidence. “Oh Aaron,” she began, shaking her head. “Your procedure took more time than I thought and it melted. We'll have to stop on the way home.”

The unmistakable shine of tears appeared almost too quickly and Jess shot a desperate glance at Derek, pleading with him to fix it. Normally she'd be on it, prepared for whatever emotion might come at her, but she had to admit she'd been a little more nervous this time than she'd let on and this was how that came out. None of them had quite bounced back from the last scare, no matter how they thought they had. To her dismay, Derek looked as panicked as she felt. As the tears rolled from his lashes, blazing trails down his pale cheeks, she rushed out the door and down the hallway. If she hurried she could run to the gas station on the corner, grab the damn replacement slushy and be back by the time he was out of the gown and into his clothes. Let Derek figure out how to push and pull him into real clothes while he didn't have any real control of his limbs, her job was easy in comparison.

Except they didn't have grape. Of fucking course. She didn't curse often, but she muttered her second swear of the day under her breath as she stood and gawked at the offending machine. It was cherry and blue raspberry, and if he wasn't doped up on meds and crying, if he had been able to keep down any food over the last few days, she would probably just mix the two into a purple concoction the way Jack liked and hope he didn't notice but she would feel like a monster now. Scratch that, she would actually be a monster. So, blue it was; she was sure that was his second favorite anyway, and if he couldn't have his first choice what else was she supposed to do? Come back empty handed?

The closer she got to the doctor's office, staring down into the shocking blue abyss of the cup, she was filled with dread. It wasn't going to work, in fact it might make things worse.

He didn't cry the second time, but he didn't look happy. Sullen was the word Derek would use, if he had to pick one, even as Aaron thanked her in his raspy quiet voice. Slowly, like he was underwater, he had maneuvered into his clothes and leaned a little heavily against Derek while they walked, holding the slushy and taking an occasional sip. Of course it was good, it was fine, the ice in his throat was soothing and really the flavors were mostly sugar and barely resembled anything vaguely like real fruit so it really didn't matter. Except for some reason it did.

“I'm sorry, Aaron,” she said, climbing into the driver seat while Derek folded himself into the back. “I got you a grape one first at that little store by Jack's school, but the store closest only had cherry and blue raspberry.”

“It's alright,” he whispered, sulking. She rolled her eyes, but Derek couldn't find it in himself to be irritated. Aaron didn't ask for things often, usually just accepted what you gave him gratefully because the thought was really the important part. He truly believed that. The idea that anyone thought of him was more than enough to find him almost teary-eyed in gratitude, but he'd been so worked up over the scope that he'd used the grape slushy as a focal point to pull himself through it. Silly and childish, he knew it, but he couldn't think his way past the warm, dense fog of the sedatives or the way his throat ached for the sting of grape. The drugs made his veins feel heavy and thick, his brain like pudding.

He fell asleep with his cheek against the window on the short car ride home.

The pout was erased by a kiss, at least briefly, as Derek helped him settle himself onto the couch with his heated blanket. With any luck he would sleep off the rest of the morning's activities and what was left of the medications turning him to sludge. The kiss was laced with a goofy grin, sleepy heavy eyelids, words that weren't words at all through lips that didn't want to work. Derek was sure he heard something about blue raspberry being okay but grape being better, quickly followed by a slightly dramatized raspy cough, though he might just have been making it up. Aaron on sedatives was a trip and a half, something he might never get used to. It was all the years of immaturity he neatly pressed into tailored suits suddenly seeping through. He didn't hate it, even if it was a little irritating. In any case, all that really came out were a slurred few syllables stopped by another series of sloppy kisses as he chased the warmth of Derek's lips.

“I love you,” he whispered against Aaron's lips and he heard the other man mumble something incoherent as his muscles relaxed into the couch. He slept hard, deeper than usual, one arm thrown over his face to block out what little sunlight filtered in through the curtains. It gave Derek and opportunity to run out and produce what he knew would solve all the world's problems.

Or, at least put a band-aid on Aaron's broken heart.

When he woke, he no longer felt the deep sadness over the slushy and felt more than a little ashamed of himself for the way he'd behaved. That didn't alleviate the pang of wistful longing that came with the idea of the grape slushy, but would be enough to keep him apologizing for the rest of the day. The fog was more of a mist now, and he knew that would stick with him for most of the day, he'd move a little slow and stumble a little as he walked, but his thoughts wove themselves together and he was able to function at least by the time Jack was home not wanting to talk about how badly they'd gotten their asses beat. All he wanted to do was beg Derek to take him to the field so he could practice more after eating his way through the kitchen.

“What's this nasty looking bowl in the freezer, dad?” Jack asked, handing the bowl to Derek with a frown. Derek elbowed him in the ribs and told him to shut up.

“I know it isn't exactly what you wanted...” Derek said approaching where Aaron sat on the couch, tipping his chin upward for another kiss and a soft smile. “But I got you something that I knew wouldn't melt while you slept.” He handed Aaron the small bowl and a spoon, the contents of which were blissfully icy chunks of frozen purple grape juice. The cloying sweet smell was intoxicating. Aaron stood to lean into the kiss, pressing their foreheads together. He set the bowl on the table so he could wrap both arms around Derek's waist and kept him there, flat against him.

“It's perfect. Thank you.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jessica brooks #criminal minds #hotchgan #mortch #fanfiction #hurt hotch

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calaofnoldor · 4 years ago

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Sixth Time’s the Charm [4]

(GIF credit: @teamfreewill-imagine)

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 6,107

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you. (Each chapter can be read as a stand-alone.)

Chapter Summary: You offer yourself as bait for a shapeshifter hunt. Things do not go as planned.

Warnings: canon level violence, language, idiots in love, mutual pining, huffy!sam, protective!sam, slight angst?, slow burn, fluff

A/N: i am SO sorry for the wait (story of my life) but to make up for it, look, 6k words! (yeah i’m sorry about that too, i don’t know what happened there.) written for @tvdspngirl314‘s birthday writing event with the prompt “You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone?” which is bolded in the fic. this also fills a square for @spnfluffbingo!

Square Filled: Rescue Mission

← BACK UP | MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The fourth time was all you. Dean barely had to lift a finger. The result, however, was far more traumatic than he had planned and rather emphatically revealed the magnitude of his brother’s feelings toward you.

Much like the previous attempts, there was a case: a shapeshifter going after women who conveniently happened to fit your description. The strategy was obvious, and you’d leaped at the opportunity to both make yourself useful and hopefully take the place of what would have otherwise been the next innocent civilian victim. But of course, Sam resisted at first.

“No. Absolutely not! We don’t know enough about this guy for you to just jump into his waiting arms, Y/N!” The fervent indignation in his tone and body language was palpable. Sam was rarely one to raise his voice or sport much of a temper at all really, but lately these heated outbursts seemed to be occurring more frequently, and frankly you were getting sick of it. The false hope they momentarily granted you through the notion that perhaps he cared about you as more than a friend was one thing. What’s more, the way his voice lowered half an octave combined with the sight of his flared nostrils, puffed chest, and straining jaw always seemed to have a sideways effect on you, in that it was impossible to keep your attention on his words alone. But boy did you try.

“Sam, how many times do we have to go through this? I’m a big girl; I can take care of myself. And your wrist is still healing so it’s not like you can call the shots on this one anyway. Besides, I’m not going in alone. You and Dean will be there for backup the whole time, right?”

“’Course we will, eh Sammy?” In a strange turn of events, Dean often appeared to be the one with a more jovial outlook recently.

Sam merely nodded and continued his heavy breathing. He glared down at his bandaged left wrist, the result of skirmish with a couple of wraiths, as if it were the root of all his problems. Then he looked up and through densely drawn brows, those magnetizing multicolored eyes pierced yours, his countenance bearing a charged and sullen expression of pensive exasperation as his jaw visibly tightened. You swallowed and could not for the life of you find the will to look away.

“So it’s settled then,” Dean proclaimed jubilantly, “Unless… you’ve got another reason you don’t want Y/N playing bait, hmm Sam? Maybe something you wanna share with the class? Or, you know, I could leave…”

“Dean, stop it. You’re not helping,” you quickly admonished before steadying your gaze back on the taller Winchester, “Look, Sam, have I ever let you down?”

“No. Never.”

“And do you still trust me?”

“Of course,” he responded immediately in a ‘what-kind-of-a-question-is-that’ tone, at which you simply raised your eyebrow to send him a reciprocating ‘then-what’s-the-problem?’ look.

“OK fine,” Sam huffed out a big breath, “But you’re not taking any risks! Anything seems off at all, just… promise me you’ll wait for me and Dean and keep us in the loop?”

His pleading eyes were so earnest and you’d truly never been able to say no to the giant puppy before, so you offered him a little smile and said, “Cross my heart.”

Sighing, Sam rubbed his face, looking lost in thought for a moment until he spoke up again, much more reserved and hesitant this time, “Do you still have that uh… ring from… that time?” Dean muffled a snort at his brother’s expense but you both ignored him, completely accustomed to his nonsensical teasing by now.

“Uh yeah, I- I think so.” The uncertainty in your voice was a lie. Of course you still had the ring you’d once used to pretend to be married to Sam Winchester. You may or may not have tucked it away in a special place for safekeeping.

“Good,” Sam nodded curtly, “I want you to wear it. It’s silver. I’ll wear mine too and Dean already has his. That’s how we’ll know that we’re still… ourselves.”

“OK, yeah that’s a good idea,” you agreed, trying your hardest not to linger on the memories.

“Well look at you two! Getting hitched again so soon-“

“Shut up, Dean,” you and Sam cut him off together.

When the meeting was adjourned and you were about to part ways to prepare for the upcoming hunt, something inside you forced you to call out his name, “Oh and Sam!” He turned around at once, questioning gaze somewhat urgently searching yours for a sign of what might come next. You stuttered though, feeling suddenly self conscious, so the next words you uttered were not much louder than a whisper, “Be careful with your wrist.”

Sam smiled, his dimples making your fingers twitch with the need to caress them. “I’ll be fine. You just look out for yourself. Remember, we’ll be right behind you.”

Somehow you both didn’t hear the groan Dean emitted as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling and prayed to whoever was listening, ‘Good lord, someone give me the strength to survive another day with these imbeciles.’

There was only one diner in the tiny Pennsylvanian town, and seeing as you were starving by the time you got there, the three of you were forced to make do with soggy fries and questionable milkshakes. As you ate, you went through your game plan once more, which essentially consisted of waiting until nightfall to visit the bar from where the previous girls had gone missing, while Sam and Dean shadowed you covertly.

Before you left, you took a quick trip to the loo and when you returned, Sam was stood outside alone, a broad smile upon his face.

“Where’s Dean?” you asked as you began to walk out the diner, expecting to find the older brother waiting impatiently in the parking lot by his precious car, but the Impala was gone.

“He went back to the motel, said he had something to take care of and that we should go scope the place out first.”

“But I thought we agreed to-“

“Yeah, well change of plans, you know how it is,” Sam replied casually with a shrug.

Little red flags started fluttering in your head, urging your eyes downward to locate the silver band on his finger. You frowned when you found it there untouched on his right hand; Sam almost never interrupted you, not even when he was absorbed in the foulest of moods.

Apparently sensing your hesitation, he added, “I mean, he made a good point. Maybe if you familiarize yourself with the surroundings first, you’ll be able to take the guy out faster.”

Sam was still smiling at you, but it felt all wrong. You couldn’t explain it, but there was something missing from his rainbow eyes. The colors were all there, but they lacked luster and warmth, a delicate twinkle that you’d learned to associate with the beautiful, heroic yet self-doubting giant of a man. Never had you seen that breathtaking magic replicated elsewhere, nor had you ever seen Sam without it, which was why you were almost completely certain that the man before you was not the real Sam Winchester.

But weaving within you was a thread of doubt, insisting that you couldn’t just pull a gun on your best friend because of something as trivial as… a feeling? No, you needed to test your theory. And so, bracing yourself with a deep breath, you slowly reached out your silver-equipped hand to do something you’d grown accustomed to resentfully abstaining from: touching Sam’s bare skin. You aimed for the large target of his hand, deeming it the most inconspicuous of places (given that he was wearing his hunters’ uniform and the only other visible option would’ve been his face or neck), but Sam was faster. Just before you were able to graze his skin with your ring, he caught your wrist in his much bigger hand and pulled it away, twisting your arm until it was locked painfully behind you.

“You think you’re smart, huh?” the shifter snarled with a flash of its eyes, moving in real close as he used Sam’s immense size and his own superhuman strength to easily constrain you.

Even so, you stared up at him defiantly, unafraid, “Sam and Dean will be back.”

“That’s the plan.”

Sam’s sneering face and threatening voice were the last things you saw or heard.

You had no way of determining how much time had passed when you unceremoniously came to in what looked and smelled to be an underground sewer. As your senses sharpened and your muddled brain began to size up your current plight, you nearly scoffed at the clichéd style of your captor. Sat on a peeling wooden chair, manila rope bound your wrists together behind your back and tethered your ankles securely to each of the seat’s front legs.

Ignoring the ache in your head, you set about strategically testing the knots and the integrity of the wood. If only you could reach the silver blade in your boot. But your attempts were interrupted by the reappearance of the shifter, whose shoe hit something as he stepped before you. A metallic clang echoed through the confined space as a result and you followed the sound to find your coveted knife on the ground, far beyond your reach.

“Fucking hunters, always think they’re so clever, always one step ahead because it’s their game. Sure, we might be the monsters but you’re the predators! So let’s see how you like being the prey for once.” Shifter Sam’s upper lip curled up in a way that seemed so foreign to you as he leaned forward to rest his hands on either arm of your chair, caging you in.

The malicious glint in his eye left you with no qualms about affronting this being who, for all intents and purposes, appeared identical to the man you’d recently discovered you were in love with. Lifting your chin, you glared up at him brazenly, “If you’re so keen on being the predator then why am I still alive? What are you waiting for?”

“Why your knight in shining armor of course!” he exclaimed, backing up as he stood to his full height and gestured to himself with both hands. “You think it was a coincidence that all those women looked like you?”

The shifter’s narrowed eyes were alight with amusement and a ripple of fear surged through your body. You were in much deeper than you or the boys had anticipated, though years of practice helped you keep your voice steady and bold, “What did you do to them?”

“Oh, I gave them a fairly painless death, don’t you worry. They were just stepping stones on my way to you. See, the Winchesters owe me a girlfriend, so I figured I’d take the closest thing to theirs. But imagine my joyous surprise when I got into this big lug’s head and discovered that he’s in love with you! No, actually it’s more than that. He’s obsessed with you; you never leave his brain! Every other thought and memory is about you... Well, it’s either you or his brother, but oh, it’s gonna kill him to see you die before his eyes. I might’ve been able to replace my dead girlfriend, but I don’t think Sam here will ever come back from losing you.”

Stunned into silence, the stupid influx of misguided hormones pumping through your veins forced you to focus on maintaining a neutral expression as he rattled on.

“And you feel the same way, don’t you? So this really will be a double kill. It’s OK, you can let it all out. I might be a monster but I’m not one to deny the dying their chance for some last words. Besides, you can say it all while looking into the eyes of the man you love.”

“Fuck you,” were the only words you could trust yourself to spit out at him.

‘Sam’ laughed, but it was nothing like the laughs you normally pulled from him. It didn’t radiate like sunshine or replenish your soul with glee. Rather, it was chilling and conniving and despite the mimicry of Sam’s beautiful voice, you immediately decided that you never wanted to hear it again.

“Not feeling too talkative, huh? Or maybe you’d rather wait until he gets here in the flesh to make that anticlimactic confession of love? That’s alright, I can just tell you more about this dumbass’s feelings for you.” The shifter chuckled with delight, as if every word brought him nothing but pure joy. “Man, he loves you so much, it’s insane. I’ve never been inside the skin of someone so in love. And I thought I really loved my ex. Afterall, this whole revenge thing is for her. But I gotta tell ya, I’ve got nothing on Sam Winchester. Did you know he thinks you were made specifically for him? You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone? Cause Sam does. That’s how he feels about you.”

“Why should I believe you?” you challenged, growing tired of the inadvertent response his words were eliciting. Your heart was pounding in your neck, core trembling at the mere possibility of Sam genuinely feeling the way he’d described. But you knew better than to trust a monster, and one who was in pursuit of maximal vengeance no less. Still, those rose-colored thoughts resonated within you, and you stumbled to dismiss them as they bubbled up, one after another like a game of emotional whack-a-mole.

Shifter Sam smirked, “Yeah, you’re a cynical one, aren’t you? You know everything he said in that marriage counseling session was true. You kinda hurt his feelings when you just brushed it all off. Even big brother Dean’s been trying to get him to confess his love for you. You must’ve heard them arguing about it at some point? They weren’t exactly being discreet.”

Choosing not to respond, you simply scowled at him.

“No? Still in denial? Perhaps you need details… You ever notice how he always sits across from you whenever you’re doing research? It’s because he thinks you’re gorgeous when you’re focused, and it gives him an opportunity to admire you without getting caught. And why do you think he lets you call him Sammy, huh? Yeah, he might not let it on but he fucking loves it when you do, makes him feel all tingly inside. And you remember that cop who hit on you? Captain Anderson, was it? Sam wanted to break the guy’s nose just for touching you. Oh and why do you think he asked you to move into the bedroom closest to his? It’s so he can keep track of your nightmares. He likes to keep you close because it makes him feel like he can protect you better when you need it.”

By now, your ‘neutral expression’ must have surely mutated to betray your shock, and you couldn’t have answered if you tried. The shifter didn’t seem to mind either way. In fact, he appeared to be having the time of his life.

“And it’s not all pure thoughts, let me tell you! Oh man, buddy boy here has dreamed up plenty of X-rated scenes with you, ranging from obnoxiously romantic to just plain obscene. You name a position and he’s imagined it, in high-definition detail,” he embellished, tapping an index finger against his temple, “His mind is like a library of pornos starring the two of you, although he’ll never get to live out any of his fantasies, will he? It’s a shame really; some of these are really hot... Ooh, I’ll have to borrow that one,” he said with closed eyes, as if a figment of Sam’s imagination was playing through his head in that very moment, “Maybe my girl and I can re-enact it while we’re still in your skins-”

“Shut up, just shut up!” you finally bellowed in protest.

Sam watched the bathroom door attentively after you’d disappeared through it, unable to contain the upward jerk of his lips when he saw you walking back out of it. Heartwarming relief had become his body’s intrinsic response to seeing you safe and sound.

“You ready?” he questioned when you made it to his side.

“Yeah, I’m good.” God, even the sound of your voice made him happy.

Once you got back to the motel, Dean plopped down onto one of the full-size beds, exhausted from the drive. Within a matter of seconds, snores began to fill the room, and Sam chuckled under his breath as he sat down around a wobbly table with you to continue your research on the shifter’s victims, hoping to find something else that linked them together or a clue as to where they might’ve been taken.

It wasn’t long before you inhaled a revelatory gasp and abruptly clutched Sam’s wrist to show him what you’d found. But your grip was harsh, causing him to hiss in pain and do something he’d never before done: recoil from your touch.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does it still hurt?” you asked nonchalantly, smiling up at him innocently.

Worse than the pain in his fractured wrist was what felt like sirens blaring in his head. You were always hyper-cognizant of his injuries and exceedingly careful around them, sometimes even more so than himself. Sam looked you over subtly, eyes landing on the silver ring still upon your finger. Perhaps his mind had been playing tricks on him and all that tender attention he thought you’d shown him was simply a mirage of his own wishful thinking?

“It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.” Sam sent you a tight smile, to which you responded with a dazzling one of your own. It was beautiful but something about it felt off. In the past, you apologized profusely if ever you found yourself the accidental cause of his discomfort, no matter how indirect or insignificant the case, but right now there wasn’t a single speck of concern in your eyes. Indeed, the more he looked into them, the more he struggled to recognize the person staring back at him.

In a flash, Sam had you up against the wall, a silver blade held against your neck. He looked down to see the metal sizzling there, burning your flesh, and cursed himself for failing to notice sooner.

The noise woke Dean from his slumber and what he saw when he opened his eyes was equal parts shocking and amusing. “Whoa! At least wait till I’m out of the room! And isn’t that a little kinky for your first time?”

“Dean, it’s not her. She’s not Y/N,” Sam grit out, “She’s wearing the ring but she’s not Y/N.”

His brother’s brows knit together as he rubbed the sleep from his emerald greens. “Wha- How did you know?”

“She was acting… weird.”

Dean scrambled off the bed, making a quick call on his phone to ensure you really were missing. He paled when a robotic voice over the line told him the number he was trying to reach was no longer in service.

It was then the shifter decided to speak up, “You know, the real Y/N would have liked this, you pressing her up against a wall?” she murmured suggestively.

“Shut up. Where is she?!” Sam slammed her body against the flimsy motel wall once more and dug the knife in a little deeper. In his panic-stricken state, he barely registered her remark, being driven entirely by a one-track mind at present.

Shifter Y/N grimaced slightly, glancing down at the knife, “Maybe if you stop cutting into me with that, I might consider telling you.”

“How did you get the ring?”

“Oh, this little thing? You like it? It’s imitation silver, but otherwise nearly identical to the one on the real Y/N’s finger. You see, we’ve been following you for a while now.”

“Who’s we? Where did you take Y/N?!” he demanded incessantly.

“My boyfriend’s got her, but don’t worry, he looks just like you so I’m sure she’ll find her accommodations to her liking,” she retorted with a smirk.

Sam’s heart lunged in his chest and his mind began whirring with endless possibilities of escalating dread. Had you been deceived and captured by a shifter pretending to be him? Were you being hurt or tortured by someone who looked exactly like him? How would you ever be able to look at him the same way again? Of course, you’d know it wasn’t Sam but the damage would still be done. You would forever remember his face as that of someone who once hurt you, who tried to kill you. That is, if Sam could make it to you in time.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to see her one last time. That’s actually why I’m here, to take you to her when the time is right,” the shifter added casually.

“I will end your miserable fucking life! Tell me where she is right now!” Sam roared before pressing the blade further into her neck, the veins in his forearms ready to burst through his skin.

“Hey, hey! Sammy, ease up! We need her alive, alright?” Dean bounded over to his brother and after quite the struggle, managed to assuage him enough to release his vice grip and replace it with silver chains that shackled her to a chair.

“Sam, maybe we should also be asking ‘why’,” Dean mused as he fastened the end of a chain against one of the beds.

With a shake of his head, Sam avowed through grinding teeth, “I don’t fucking care. I have to get to her.”

“And what if it’s a trap?”

“Then I’ll find her myself.”

Dean scoffed in disbelief as he turned to his usually wise and level-headed little brother, “Oh yeah, and how’re you gonna do that? Where would you even start?”

“I don’t know!” Sam exclaimed in exasperation. Then, after a pause of desperate deliberation alleged, “Shifters like to make their lairs in sewers, right?”

Taking a step closer, Dean maintained his challenging tone, “So what are you gonna do, just wade through the entire town’s shit and piss until you find her?!”

“If that's what it takes, then yes!” Sam looked like he was about to eat his brother alive.

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” shifter Y/N interfered from her seated position before them, raising her chin to meet Sam’s eyes, “Don’t worry, handsome, I can tell you she feels the same way. But unfortunately, by the time you get to her, I don’t think she’ll be able to tell you herself. In fact, you’ll probably hardly recognize her anymore… so you might want to keep me around, if only as a souvenir of your soon-to-be-dead girlfriend.”

Sam couldn’t contain himself anymore. Despite looking like a carbon copy of you, the evil gleam in the shifter’s eyes made her easily differentiable, and so Sam held back nothing when he lunged across the distance, knife in hand ready to do some real damage. However, Dean pounced with him, having predicted his brother’s violent eruption and felt his shaking wrath, knowing a little too well just how rash he could be when it came to you. Still, it took all of Dean’s strength to pull Sam back, sending him a stern but knowing look once he did.

“Sam, stop!” His low voice rumbled as he went into authoritative big brother mode, “Listen to me, you wanna save Y/N? Well so do I, but this is not how we do it! Now I know it’s hard, but I need you to calm down, alright?”

Sam’s massive chest was practically at his chin as he heaved ginormous breaths. Though his body language was still offensive, his hazel eyes were filled with fear and devastation when they looked toward his brother, “Dean, if I don't get to her in time, I’ll...” Clenching his jaw, Sam made a fruitless attempt to calm his tremoring frame and quell his tumultuous emotions. What would he do? Sam wasn’t even sure himself. All he knew was that every cell in his being was currently screaming at him to get to you, to make sure you were safe and soothe away any of your pain. There was nothing he wouldn’t give in that moment to simply know you were alright and to hold you in his arms. He knew you could look after yourself, but for once he had a terrifying feeling that even you were in over your head, that you might actually need him this time, and he’d be fucking damned if he let you down.

“Woah! Hey, hey! Sammy, look at me! That ain’t gonna happen, alright? We’re gonna find Y/N and we’re gonna bring her home in one piece, you hear me? We’re the Winchesters, man! We’ve faced the end of the world. What’s a couple of shifters got on us?”

‘You,’ Sam thought, ‘They’ve got you.’ But he appreciated Dean’s pep talk nonetheless and nodded in response as a fresh surge of determination swelled within him.

“Alright then,” Dean nodded as well, “Why don’t you let me give her a go?”

As Dean’s silver blade cut into the detained shapeshifter, Sam flinched with every moan and howl of agony. He knew it wasn’t you, but she still had your voice and your perfect face. Yet not a second was wasted on the feeling of relief when they finally managed to get a location out of her. Sam nearly tripped over himself in his haste as he snatched the Impala’s keys and his gun before flying out of the room with a jumbled order for Dean to stay with the monster.

“Well, if you’re not gonna admit your feelings for the giant lumberjack, I guess you’re right. Maybe I should stop yapping and get to prettying you up for that first and last date of yours, huh?” Shifter Sam prodded your cheek with a switchblade.

You said nothing. At this point, you had a sneaking suspicion that physical pain might be more bearable than the psychological torment your imprisoner had been so keen on. It was one thing for you to torture yourself by entertaining the slim possibility that Sam might return your feelings for him, but to hear such outrageous perceptions from a creature who could read the inside of his mind like a paperback novel, and conveyed with such tantalizing conviction… well, it just about broke you.

And knowing that the shifter was yearning to coax a confession out of you simply to cause Sam as much anguish as possible made you more resolute about your refusal to submit, beyond the need to protect your own sanity.

One shiner and a slash to the thigh later, however, you heard a loud clash. Shifter Sam paused his handiwork and began to turn around, “Could your knight be here ahead of schedule?”

‘Dammit,’ you thought. The Winchesters were usually capable of being stealthy when necessary but in case it really was the sound of them making a blunder or encountering some other form of resistance, you figured you’d buy them a distraction.

“Wait, wait! You’re right, OK? Maybe I do feel something for Sam, but even if I told him, I think you’re forgetting… This is Sam fucking Winchester we’re talking about here. He’s been tortured by the devil himself. You really think killing me is going do much damage?”

Your abductor had now given you his full attention, leering at you with a sly smile, so you continued, “Besides, you picked a fight with the Winchesters; don't expect to live to see tomorrow.”

Right on cue, a hulking blur of hair and plaid came barreling in, growling ferally as he grabbed the shifter and threw more than one brutal punch against what appeared to be his own face. The silver ring on Sam’s hand made contact with skin and his shifter counterpart groaned in pain.

You nearly forgot about your ceaseless work of untying the rope that cuffed your wrists together as your looked on in shock. Why Sam hadn’t just shot him with a silver bullet was beyond you. He was smarter than this. There was no need to drag out a monster’s death if a more efficient option existed. But as he continued to engage his clone in hand-to-hand combat, it appeared almost as if he was venting his frustrations on the shifter, as if he drank up every ounce of hurt he was able to inflict. But his high only lasted so long and shifter Sam soon regained his balance, making use of his supernatural invulnerability and superior strength.

“Sam!” you screamed as the shifter threw him across the room.

He tumbled up just in time as the shifter meandered over, “So nice of you to join us, Sam. You know, Y/N here was just telling me about-“

Sam didn’t wait for him to finish, choosing instead to tackle him to the floor with a loud grunt. While they wrestled on the ground, you worked furiously at the knots behind you, wincing with every hit Sam took though it was becoming hard to tell them apart.

When Sam finally drew his gun, the shifter was able to divert its barrel and a shot rang out futilely. Catching a subsequent elbow to the ribs had Sam falling to his knees and you watched in horror as shifter Sam once again gained the upper hand, sending the gun flying out of Sam’s grasp. The binding around your wrists was just about undone when Sam seized a stray rusty pipe and swung it against his counterfeit. Shifter Sam was incapacitated for a brief instant but quickly returned to form with some vicious hooks and a couple of well-placed knees.

With your hands finally free of their restraints, you staggered over to the gun, the chair still attached at your ankles. As you took aim, you shouted, “Sam, get down!” before you shot his mirror image through the heart.

Sighing, you slumped to your hands and knees whilst the real Sam sat up with his back against a wall, gaping at you with a look of awe. Yet before he even caught his breath, he was up and gliding toward you, cradling his left wrist at an awkward angle.

“Sam, your wrist!”

“It’s fine, are you OK?” he swiftly dismissed your concern, cupping your face with his good hand as he examined the darkening bruise around your eye.

You ignored the palpitations in your chest and placed a hand upon his wrist, “Yeah, I’m fine. He wasted more time playing mind games than anything. You know villains and their monologues,” you joked, trying to ease his tension and the deluded self-imposed guilt you knew he must’ve been brewing in.

As if to prove your point, Sam lamented, “God, I’m so sorry. I should have known. I should have gotten here sooner.”

“What? No! They were miles ahead of us, Sam. The whole thing was a set up; this was their hunt. How could you have known?”

Rather than replying, he released a breath and busied himself trying to help you out of your binding.

Back at the motel, after icing your eye and stitching up your thigh, you insisted on re-wrapping Sam’s wrist while Dean took care of shifter Y/N’s remains. But when the older Winchester returned and spied you and his brother sitting together on a bed through a crack in the door, he couldn’t resist the chance to exercise his espionage skills.

“How did you know she wasn’t me anyway?” you asked as you gently wound the ace bandage around Sam’s swollen forearm.

“I just…” He looked down at your nimble fingers upon his skin and smiled unwittingly at their tender touch, “had a feeling.”

Sam’s sunflower gaze locked onto yours for a frozen instant and something about his soft expression made you forget what words were, until he cleared his throat, “Did you um- did you know he wasn’t me?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, smiling for some strange reason. Perhaps you were just glad to see his trademark twinkle return to those otherworldly eyes. “Pretty soon after actually. I… had a feeling too.”

Sam’s dimples made every ache in your body disappear as that twinkle glistened in full force, “And how’d you know which one to shoot?”

Well, that dampened your mood and brought you back to the task at hand, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you kept grimacing every time you used your left wrist?” Although your words had a bitter force behind them, the pressure beneath your fingertips never increased and Sam had almost completely forgotten about his pain.

You, on the other hand, were reminded of your struggle to reconcile with what had happened since his question prompted a restored and growing frustration.

It had been bugging you the whole time and you felt compelled to confront him about it because storming in alone with a bad wrist, ready to throw hands with an out-of-his-league monster was really not Sam’s style. Something must’ve gotten into him and with everything the shifter had told you, you couldn’t help but wonder. Nevertheless, you were a little afraid of how he might answer, so Dean had to lean in closer to hear your next words.

“Why didn’t you just shoot him?”

“W-what do you mean?” Sam stammered out after a pause.

“Sam, you have a broken wrist, but instead of sending Dean or using your gun from the get-go, you came in like a madman and went after him with your fists!” Your voice was full of incredulity though it also carried an undertone of anger.

As Sam picked up on that reproachful tone, you could almost feel the telltale signs of his puppy dog eyes coming on. “He used my face to deceive you, to hurt you. They manipulated us. I had to- ...I mean, he killed those women just to get us here. He had it coming!”

Your hopes plummeted. Of course, Sam was ever the righteous man. Why would you assume his brashness had been purely born out of a need to avenge you? Though regardless of his reason, you were still upset about his self-destructing behavior, “Yeah, but you had to have realized you were in no position to be the one to give it to him, right? I mean, you might’ve looked the same but he was juiced up on monster superpowers, Sam… which meant he was stronger and faster, not to mention uninjured, in his own territory, and apparently the only one with a sound plan.”

A breath of laughter left Sam’s lips though there was no smile on his face. Here he’d been on a mission to save you, but you were the one who’d ended up saving him, again. You must’ve thought he was comically stupid and pathetically useless. How could he possibly think he was worthy of you? “I guess I should thank you for saving my ass again, huh?”

“What?! No! That’s not what I mean. Sam, you’re the one who saved me! And I’m beyond grateful for it, really I am. I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself more in the process.” You finally finished up with his wrist wrap, securing the final ends with a clip, and letting your hands linger on his for longer than necessary, momentarily distracted by the disparity of size between them. Sam didn’t appear uncomfortable though, as his fingers twitched closer to yours and he made no move to pull away.

He couldn’t help but smile again when he noticed the sincere concern in your eyes that was previously absent in the shifter’s. “Yeah well, what was it you once said to me? ‘Your ass will always be worth it’?”

“And if I remember correctly, you once told me you don’t do things on hunts that make your injuries worse,” you quoted him back with an arched brow.

“Yeah well, I guess this is payback. Now you know how I felt.” A playful grin made his dimples deepen and you clenched your jaw to refrain from gushing over the ridiculous cuteness of this ‘giant lumberjack’.

“You’re an idiot.”

“As long as you’re OK,” Sam answered assuredly, and you nearly melted when his free hand caressed your cheek for the second time that day, big thumb tracing a feather-light path below the purpled skin.

‘You’re both fucking idiots,’ Dean groaned internally from the other side of the door. He knew he had no choice but to up his game.

thanks so much for reading! feedback is greatly appreciated!

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

no rest

(r18+)

eraserhead | aizawa shouta x reader

ao3

word count: ~5k

Shouta has many exhausting days, but you're always there for him when he finally comes home. And, he decides to show you how much he appreciates it.

(Or, domestic Shouta dick on hard!)

warnings: domestic fluff & smut, domestic aizawa, face-sitting, cutesy shit

Shouta’s day had been so fucking long. Training with 1-A had been more of a nightmare than it had been in a long while. It resulted in about a third of the class needing Recovery Girl’s healing while the remainder received a harsh scolding on lack of restraint. He made sure to sprinkle on a few administrative threats for good measure, but all in all, it really soured his mood for the rest of the day.

After a quick nap and 24 ounces of black coffee, he took to his evening patrol as normal. For whatever reason, the streets were also a shitshow. He had to track down and subdue a petty burglar who had robbed a few street vendors. Shouta also detained a few muggers as well, all preying on women stepping out of a new, neon-lit club. It wasn’t particularly hard as these weren’t coordinated criminals, but rather drunken idiots who needed some sense and respect slapped into them. All the same, it was tiring and a little disheartening.

By the time his patrol was finished, he was so exhausted. The caffeine had long burned from his system and all he wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep as long as possible.

Shouta made his way back to his apartment, checking his phone on the way. He couldn’t help the swelling in his chest as he saw a text from you, cute as always.

from “y/n”, 9:32 PM

“y/n”: miss you honey!! i made dinner and put some leftovers in the fridge for you!

“y/n”: - love you shouta baby <3

His heart warmed.

The two of you had been dating for quite some time, though it was one of his best-kept secrets. You didn’t mind, truthfully. You had a flexible job freelancing, so your schedule molded to the needs of a hero very well. The dates you took were carefully planned and often shrouded, but you never complained. Only a few of Shouta’s colleagues knew of your relationship, and they were sworn to secrecy. All of the external smoke and mirrors just added to the reticent, underground allure that “Eraserhead” cultivated. It was one of the reasons you fell for him in the first place.

Shouta arrived back at your shared apartment, unlocking the door and heaving a sigh. He could see the light of the TV illuminating the living room. Your shadow was cast on a wall, disrupted as one of your cats sprung up to greet Shouta at the door. A small smile spread on his face as he reached to scratch her fluffy white chin.

You shifted off the couch, moving towards Shouta as well, “Looks like Mochi missed you.”

As you swayed towards him, Shouta was unable to help how his eyes raked down your comfortably dressed body. You were only wearing a cropped t-shirt and soft, high-waisted sleep shorts that gave a delightful peek at your ass. You swayed up to him, slowly wrapping your arms around his shoulders while he instinctively went to your waist, squeezing lightly.

He chuckled as you pressed a few playful kisses to his cheeks and stubble, “Looks like she’s not the only kitten who missed me.”

At the comment, you flushed and buried your face in his neck, giving it a playful nip, “Asshole. I always miss you.”

Shouta rumbled out an acknowledging hum. He knew this all too well. There were many nights he came home in the early hours of the morning to find you passed out on the couch spooning Mochi. He always made careful work to carry you to bed tucked against his chest, whispering sweet nothings as you became listless in his arms. Often, this would evolve into sleepy, tender fucking. Sleepy embraces of soft skin that turned into soft peaks and sweaty bodies. Though, just as often, the two of you dissolved with each other into deep sleep.

But, this night, you were wide awake and safely in his arms.

Mochi curled around your feet as Shouta coaxed you from his neck. You withdrew only to cup his jaw in your soft hands, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Shouta shivered; he would never tire of feeling the plushness of your lips on his own. You felt his shudder, laughing lightly against his lips.

You pulled back, rubbing his shoulders, “As much as I love this, I know that you haven’t eaten dinner and I made some incredibly good soup and bread earlier if you’d like some.”

Shouta smiled, something you saw more than anyone else and you cherished that face, “Of course. Thank you, kitten.”

“Asshole,” You jolted forward at the nickname to kiss his nose before twirling from his grip to practically skip towards the kitchen, out of sight.

Shouta rolled his eyes in false annoyance, but truthfully he found your perpetual embarrassment over his jests endearing. Despite having lived together for nearly two years and been in a relationship for several more, he was still able to rile you up and fluster you with just a few words. Shouta craved it and he knew that you did too.

Shouta bent down, giving Mochi a few more scritches as your older, less spry, senior kitty, Artichoke, finally came lumbering over to greet him. Shouta alternated between taking off his boots and petting the cats before straightening up and draping his capture weapon over a hook by the door.

He walked to the kitchen, stretching his arms above his head, watching with a fondness he could extend to you.

You padded around the kitchen, unaware of his gaze, too absorbed in your own doings. The aforementioned soup was on the stove, heating up. You always insisted on warming things up in the oven or on the stove, insisting that it preserved the taste and quality of the food better. It took a lot longer, but Shouta didn’t mind. It made you happy.

You gave the soup a stir, nodding to yourself and stepping back to boost yourself atop a countertop, tapping through your phone.

Shouta walked soundlessly between your thighs on the countertop, placing his large, calloused hands at the juncture between your hips and upper thighs. Your eyes darted up to meet his, a sweet smile coming to your face as you placed your phone back on the counter. Languidly, you rested your arms on his shoulders, lightly pulling him and tangling a hand in his messy, raven hair.

“How was your day?” You asked, rubbing a thumb at the base of Shouta’s skull, eliciting a rumble of pleasure low in his chest.

Shouta pressed his face into your shoulder, half nuzzling into it, “Very long, and very tedious.”

You hummed, turning your head to press a very well deserved kiss to Shouta’s temple, “You wanna talk about it?”

Early in your relationship with Shouta, you learned that you had to prompt Shouta to talk about his feelings, thoughts, and well, a lot of things, directly. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to (especially with you, he very much wanted to share his life with you), he just wasn’t used to many folks listening.

But, you were there to listen. Always, it seemed.

Shouta shook his head, “Nothing overwhelmingly bad. Just a bit worse than normal. I’m just happy to be home.

“I’m happy you’re home too,” You replied gently, nudging Shouta’s head from your shoulder to press your foreheads together. “Do you have patrol in the morning?”

“No, I have tomorrow off,” Shouta cupped your jaw, kissing you with a soft reverence. It was gentle, mellow and slow. His other hand squeezed your hip, feeling soft flesh give way to bone.

His dick twitched.

...

So it was one of those nights.

Shouta licked into your mouth, giving your bottom lip a quick nip. You shuddered in his grasp, arching your back into him. One of your legs began to hook around his waist-

And then incredibly loud sizzling shocked the air.

You jolted back, looking past Shouta to the pot of warming soup.

“Shit!” You cursed. Shouta moved back, going to stir the soup, lowering the heat as you were at his heels.

“Well, at least it's warm now,” You laughed from behind him, while he dished himself up some of the fragrant soup.

The two of you settled on the couch, Shouta quietly eating and listening to you as you filled him in on your day. You recounted how you went to the coffee shop on the corner, then scoped out a new cat cafe that was opening up across town. Your work could be done from almost anywhere, and you took advantage of that through your romps around town. You always had such cute stories about your day.

Shouta couldn’t lie and say that your wanderings didn’t worry him. He knew all too well the types that lurked in the shadows and would jump at the chance to take advantage of someone like you. But, you also weren’t reckless. Hell, truthfully, Shouta underestimated you early in your trysts, thinking you weren’t nearly as capable as you were.

You laid your head on Shouta’s shoulder as he set the dish of soup aside, mostly finished.

“Thoughts? Pretty good, right?” You asked, pressing a kiss to Shouta’s clothed shoulder.

Shouta nodded, wrapping an arm around you and squeezing, “Very good. Your cooking is always very good.”

Though, it wasn’t his favorite meal of yours he liked eating. He could only pray that your cunt be his last meal on death row.

...

Shouta could survive on granola bars and apple sauce and had for a long time. The minute you two moved in together, you tried to always keep some leftovers in the fridge or freezer for Shouta to graze on. You were insistent that your role as house chef had nothing to do with antiquated gender roles, but rather that Shouta was a compliant guinea pig for new recipes. Either way, Shouta wouldn’t have minded. Truly, the closest you ever got to the ‘housewife’ archetype was the one time Shouta walked in on you in a sinfully cute skirt and frilly, pink apron when you were making literal goddamn bread.

That was also the first day Shouta fucked you over the kitchen counter. He remembers it very fondly and with a rock hard cock.

You rose, stretching your arms above your head. The crop of your shirt rode up deliciously (and intentionally) showing off the supple skin of your waist and just a sliver of underboob. Your cute, sleep shorts, patterned with moons and stars, moved just perfectly to show the curves of your ass and thighs.

You cleared your throat, giving him a knowing look with dilated pupils, “Something up, Shou’?”

“No, nothing at all,” Shouta rose up off the couch, having more than a few inches of height on you as he moved to rub his hands up and down your arms. “I’m gonna wash up.”

“Sounds perfect,” You stretched on your tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss, before turning on a heel to walk to the bedroom, a small parade of cats following you.

Washing up consisted of taking a shower to wash off the grime of the day and throwing on a pair of boxer briefs and a long sleeve shirt. It was one that you frequently wore (read: stole), and it carried a bit of your scent with it.

When he entered your bedroom, hair tied up, Shouta couldn’t stop looking at you.

He’s really not sure what changed about him. It was probably age, but something about domesticity got his dick hard. Coming home to someplace, something, some one stable made him feel warm and safe in a way that felt so new. He fucking cherished it.

Just like he cherished you.

You were up on your knees on the bed, playing with Mochi with a stuffed mouse toy. You hadn’t realized he had entered the room, cutely oblivious in your comfort.

A moment later, you noticed him, all sleepy eyes and warmth.

You seized your playing and smiling, “Sleepy, dear? Come to bed.”

And oh, he did.

Shouta went to his side of the bed (he loved that), climbing onto the mattress and pulling you into his lap. His back rested on the headboard while yours was snug to his chest. His legs were laid out flat while yours were bent at the knees as he stroked them up and down. They were all plush, soft skin. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to mark them, be buried between them, or have them wrapped around his waist while he bruised your cervix.

His nimble fingers traced up and down your curves in a way that he knew would make you shudder.

Shouta loved the way you trembled at his touch.

“Maybe I’m not so sleepy,” Shouta broke the almost silence. He squeezed the meat of your inner thighs, moving closer to the hem of your sinfully small sleep shorts.

You chuckled, “I couldn’t tell.”

You ground backward, making Shouta’s cock twitch.

Goddammit.

Shouta was exhausted. Truly and thoroughly worn out, yet he wanted nothing more than to be suffocated between your thighs. Maybe laying between them or maybe-

“Hey, kitten,” Shouta purred into your ear, tucking your hair behind your ear. He kissed softly, speaking lovely and deep. “Would you mind doing me a favor— just since I am a bit tired?”

You took a shuddering exhale, nodding as Shouta’s hands drifted between your upper thighs and the softness of your tummy, “O-of course.”

Shouta grinned, licking the shell of your ear, popping a gasp from you, “How about you sit your pretty little cunt on my face, hm?”

You breathed, wriggling against him with a whine, “S-Shouta—”.

He truly wished he could see the bashful blush that was surely staining your cheekbones.

You squirmed in his lap, “Are you sure? I know you’re tired, you don’t have to.”

He hummed, nodding, and moving your hair away from your neck. Shouta didn’t dare lavish it with the kisses he so wanted to. No— he merely fanned his breath and watched your squirm. In a low, growling voice he spoke into your ear, knowing how instantly wet you got for it, “Let me lay down and I’ll show you how much I want to.”

You turned back to look at him, immediately going in for an incredibly sweet kiss. Shouta swears he could taste sugar on your lips as you pull away. You perfectly juxtaposed his lust, all candied reverence and a honeyed tongue.

You shifted, allowing Shouta to properly lay on the bed. He took note of the small, nervous tugging of your hands as you watched him. Your cheeks were flushed with want and thighs squeezed together tightly.

God, you were precious.

Shouta couldn’t help himself. He dragged your lips down to meet his own as he settled his body onto the sheets. Your hands wove into his damp hair, rubbing a small, deep circle at his skull. Shouta couldn’t help the low moan that pulled from his chest.

You knew just how to touch him, even in simple ways.

Even from Shouta’s spot lying down, he was able to pull off your shorts and discard them to the floor. Your legs were vaguely unshaven, perfectly perfect.

(When the two of you first had started seeing each other, you had been so meticulous about your appearance and hygiene. You still kept good on both of them, sure, but, he’d seen you relax more and more as you got used to him. At heart, you were a bashful thing and took quite a bit of time and patience. He adored it, adored you.

You hovered over Shouta, pressing your petal-soft lips against his own. His hands, all calluses, and scars, wrapped around your thighs in their own foreplay. You stuttered a moan into his mouth which he drank greedily. Fuck his exhaustion, taking you in made him feel more alive than any cup of coffee or adrenaline rush would.

Slowly, you positioned yourself above Shouta’s half-drooling mouth. Your face was flushed, eyes trying to look anywhere other than at the man between your thighs. There was clear anxiety in how you were shifting and tensing. Definitely turned on, but a bit unsure.

“Kitten, do you want to keep going?” Shouta asked softly. As much as he wanted this, he was well aware that for you, this was a fairly vulnerable position on a good day. Sometimes, being this exposed made you a bit too skittish to have a good time.

“N-no, it’s okay,” You reached down to run a hand through his hair, pulling it fully from its tie. “Ya’ know, I just get nervous.”

You give him a soft smile, one that’s full of trust and love that took months to years of love to foster and grow. And now? It was mirrored so well between the two of you.

God he loved you. He loved it. He loved you.

Shouta wrapped his arms securely around your waist, hands digging into the plush bits above your hips. It was his wordless reply, positioning you perfectly to ride his face.

Shouta moved a hand to your soft stomach, gently rubbing a thumb lower and lower. You shuddered, almost grinding down onto Shouta’s waiting mouth. He prevents you, holding you up to tease you just the slightest bit.

You huff above him, but it quickly dissolves into a tremor-filled moan as Shouta’s thumb slowly traced as the velvet of your folds.

He circled your clit, moving to give it a few slow circles. He could literally watch the wetness begin to pool around your cunt.

He couldn’t help himself.

The muscles in his thick arms tensed, dragging your thighs down to rest squarely on either side of his face. Your pussy rested firmly against his mouth, weeping.

You cried out above him, steadying yourself on the headboard.

The smell of you was all around him. God, he could hardly breathe but he could hardly fucking care. Your cunt was the place he wanted to drown, die, and be at peace in.

He gave you a lick from cunt to clit with the flat of his tongue, trying to taste all of you in one go. You tightened your thighs around his head, moaning and resting your head against the wall, braced by an arm.

“S-Shouta,” Oh, your voice was begging. It made his cock throb. “ More.”

Did he fucking heed your request.

With everything he had, your thighs were constricted by his grip and your pussy was fully suffocating him.

Shouta licked into you, swirling his tongue at your entrance. He sucked at your clit, hard, and proceeded to roughly drag you down when you reflexively lifted your hips away from his mouth. Shouta worked his lips against your cunt and clit with vigor. He could feel the way your slick wetted his facial hair and clung to his cheeks. Your thighs were dampening with sweat and arousal and Shouta was fucking drowning in it.

He gave a particularly harsh suck to your clit, causing you to bounce upwards with a cracking shriek before Shouta dragged you back down again. You bore down on him, panting so sweetly above him.

He pulled away from your pussy for only a moment, “Touch your tits for me, kitten.”

Your hands shakily slid towards your chest, tweaking at your own nipples as soft moans spilled from your kiss-bruised lips.

Shouta took the opportunity to bite and suck at your inner thighs, leaving sweet little marks in his wake. One of his hands went to roughly palm at your ass, giving it a quick slap in the process. Your hips stuttered, then fully ground down on Shouta’s tongue.

He took a spare moment to splay one of your thighs a little bit wider for balance, allowing him to move his own arms. He’d rub the soreness out of it tomorrow, gladly. He removed his mouth from you for just a moment to take a few deep breaths, before slowly crooking a finger into you. You shook with each moment, thighs twitching around Shouta’s face. He fully plunged the finger in, bringing a soft gasp tumbling from you. He smirked against your cunt, tongue fully attending to your clit. You were slowly starting to descend into obscenities and pleads.

“ P-please, Shouta!” You wept out, all for him, just for him. He revels in it. “ M-more!”

He obliged without thought.

Shouta spelled sweet nothings on your clit at a brutal pace. He can’t help teasing you just a little by not fully crooking his fingers just right. This earns him a desperate whine from you and a delicious squeeze of your thighs from around his skull. His ability to breathe is definitely being compromised, but god if he ever wanted it back. Suffocating on your cunt was his goddamn sacred rite and he’d be damned not to do so perfectly.

“S-Shou’,” You stuttered out from on top of him, one of your hands fisting in his hair and forcing him deeper into your pussy still. Shouta has no doubt your face is flushed and damp with sweat. “ Please—”

Maybe on a different day, Shouta would tease and make you beg for it. But, not that day. On that day, he wanted nothing more than for you to cum on his face.

He repositioned his fingers, suddenly and harshly curling them against that particular, perfect spot in your pussy. You let out a sharp moan, bearing down on him.

“ Fuck, Shouta!” You breathed harshly, crying out with each lick and suck.

Shouta drilled the spot inside of you, feeling slick practically pour down onto his face. God. He adored you.

“I-I’m close—” Your voice was cut by your cry as Shouta gave you a particularly harsh suck to your clit.

He already knew. Your pussy was fluttering and tightening around his fingers.

Shouta free around tugged you down the hardest and harshest he could. You were smothering him, and holy fuck he loved it. Loud squelching sounds and his own breathing were all Shouta could hear as he brought you to a tumbling orgasm.

You screamed his name, so prettily, so well , on your lips and your hips stuttered and faltered against his face. The hand that wasn’t finger fucking you senseless helped prop you up as your muscles spasmed.

Your hands had flown to your mouth, judging by the muffled nature of your cries of adoration. It was a habit of yours Shouta was trying to help you break, carefully. He gave your ass a sharp smack as you were coming down from your orgasm. Your hands quickly came down your face and instead intertwined with Shouta’s messy hair.

Shouta refused to let up on your cunt. You were twitched around him, moans coming out as broken babbles. His fingers drove into you and his tongue flicked at your clit, hoping to draw a second orgasm from you.

“S-Shouta!” Oh, Shouta loved how broken and hoarse your voice was. “T-too much!”

Shouta stopped abruptly, pulling his fingers from you and allowing you to move and rest.

You moved to straddle Shouta’s waist and god were you a sight.

Your hair was messy, frizzed, and wild with your own pulling in ecstasy. Your face was thoroughly flushed, a few tears coming from the corners of your eyes. Shouta could even see your thighs glistened with slick and his own spit.

Shouta propped himself up to sit (somewhat), glancing at his wet fingers.

“Open your mouth, kitten,” It was a soft order, but you obliged nonetheless. You opened with your tongue just a bit out, eyes wanting.

Shouta gently grabbed your jaw, hooking a finger inside your mouth so you weren’t able to close it. His wet fingers slipped in, smearing your juices across your tongue.

You closed around them, sucking weakly in your post-orgasmic state. Shouta could clearly see your exhaustion, and his own was creeping back up on him, albeit slowly.

He withdrew his fingers and hand, voice low, “Swallow like a good girl.”

You nodded, eagerly complying. Shouta watched the gentle bob of your throat.

“Oh, kitten, ” Shouta praised you with a voice like honey. “You did so well.”

You shifted to sit on his hips, wet cunt over his straining, boxer-covered hard-on. You leaned to kiss Shouta softly. You lick into his mouth to taste yourself, shuddering against him.

God, he really loved you.

“You too tired for anymore, kitten?” Shouta cupped your face as he drew away.

You gave him a soft laugh, pressing your smooth cheek into his scarred, callous hands, “I should be asking you that.”

“My dick is currently rock hard from drowning in you, so you could say I’m not too tired right now.” Shouta purred as you melted against him, straddling him fully and arching your back the slightest bit. You were such a good kitten for him.

You pressed soft kisses into Shouta’s neck, nipping his jaw, “You could fuck my face? Get me as messy as you like?”

As much as thinking about your fucked out, fucked up face got Shouta leaking, he wasn’t in that particular mood. Another night.

“Sit on my cock, kitten,” Shouta turned to kiss your temple, hands pushing and pulling at your waist.

You drew away, giving him a bit of a concerned look, “Shou’ I don’t know if I have that in me.”

Shouta shook his head, dropping his voice even lower, “I’ll be doing all the work, kitten. Promise.”

You still looked anxious, unable to meet Shouta’s eyes. Sometimes, you froze up like this, in intimate moments. You spun in your head with only fear.

“(Y/N),” Shouta called you with your name, pulling you from your worries. You met his eyes. “We can stop if you’re uncomfortable, it’s alright.”

“No, no,” You shook your head. “ I’m genuinely afraid my legs will give out. I feel all jello-ish right now.”

You laughed softly, Shouta squeezing your hips.

“Oh, kitten,” Shouta chuckled himself, thumbs rubbing soft circles against your skin. “ I said I’ll be doing all the work. You can be a good cocksleeve for me, hm?”

You audibly choked, then nodded. Shouta just hummed laughter, watching you squirm for him.

“Be a good girl and sit on my cock then,” Shouta lowered his gaze at you.

You put yourself more upright, grabbing his cock in a soft grip. Shouta was rock hard from eating you out, angry and red. You stroked him a few times, spitting on the head and slicking him down. You lined him up to your dripping cunt, shaking legs raising to pull in his cock so beautifully.

Shouta was big and you visibly felt it as you sank down on him. Your eyes fluttered and your body shook as he filled you up.

Both of you were breathing in puffs, Shouta growling as you bottomed out. He smoothed a hand over your stomach as your body twitched. Shouta’s breath hitches as he swears he can feel his cock through your stomach.

He gripped the side of your body, fingers digging into the flesh and fat, and with abandon and the strength of thighs, he fucked up into you.

You nearly screeched as he did, hands going to Shouta’s torso for purchase. You screamed exclamatives as Shouta’s cock so perfectly filled you up. Your cunt was hot and gooey around him and Shouta knew he wasn’t going to last too long.

Your body bounced with his, your expression twisting as one of your own hands went to rub your clit. Particularly hard, Shouta slammed up into you and pushed your hips to meet him.

“ Kitten,” He growled, repeating the motion, but slower. “Don’t you fucking dare touch yourself.”

You nodded hastily, moving your hand, dissolving into soft pleads for Shouta to keep fucking moving.

He made good on his word to do all the work.

Shouta’s pace sped up, wet squelches filling the room. You were moaning in tandem with each thrust, both getting closer and closer to climax.

Finally, Shouta relented and massaged your clit with his thumb, watching your expression break for him. Your body sagged, face to Shouta’s neck, fanning sweet breath sticky to his skin.

“Cum on my cock, kitten,” Shouta nearly fucking commanded you to. You shook for a moment, grinding down as Shouta fucked you so well. You clenched so beautifully on his cock, sobbing in relief as Shouta’s thumb moved faster, allowing you to tumble over the edge of your peak.

Shouta couldn’t hold back. He was relentless in the way he grabbed your hips and fucked you. He bruised your cervix as he reached his own climax, nails digging into the meat of your hips as he growled out your name.

His cum filled you up so nicely as he fucked you through his own orgasm. You were nearly sobbing into his neck, hands fisting into his knotted hair, begging for a reprieve. Shouta slowed, a hand pushing your heaving chest up so he could see you better.

You sat so divinely on his cock. You were thoroughly red, thoroughly bitten, and bruised up just right. Your eyes were glassy and your lips parted.

Shouta gave one more, weaker, thrust up into you.

You hissed, letting out a shaking breath, “ S-Shouta—”

Oh, you were spent. And, so was he.

He gently pulled you off his cock, watching your slick and his cum coat your thighs. Part of him wanted to lap it up and tongue fuck you again , but he was much more inclined to pull you to his chest.

You immediately tangled your legs together, pressing your face into his chest. You half-heartedly groaned into his chest, “I thought you said you were tired.”

“I was,” Shouta pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Still am.”

You snorted out a laugh and tried to move even closer. Shouta wrapped his arms around you, squeezing before moving off the bed. You whined, but he just tsked.

He returned with a soft, wet towel. He gently cleaned you, pressing a kiss or two to your oversensitive thighs and sweat-slick tummy.

Finally, he slid in with you, both of you somewhat clean and more than sated.

You were already half dozing as Shouta pulled you into him, running a hand through your hair.

He truly adored you and would show you, time and time again, exhausted or not.

#my hero x reader #aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #my hero academia #aizawa shouta #reader insert #y/n x aizawa shouta #y/n x eraser head #salem writes

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome To The Pack Not Like I Needed That Bed

Summary- 10k. Alpha!Steve x You. You go to Steve needing him in just about every sense of the word. You Heat fully hits and there is no controlling it. Bucky and Natasha find out more of Pierces doings. Warnings- Okay guys, shouldn't have to tell you, but Smut. Readers in Heat, really what else can you expect from her and the Alpha? Female Receiving Oral. Two Prompts added for @lielullabye Snow's Five Hundred Challenge- 1. “Toto I got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” 2. There's only one bed- in a cabin.

A/N- Thank You all for the support in this Fic. It's very near and dear to my heart, and just to see the out pour of love for the wolves (im sorry, this chapter doesn't have much of the actual wolves) really makes me all soft. Anyone that notices similarities with @imanuglywombat's series Hungry Like The Wolf, it is similar. We talked about it. :) You all should go check out Laura's piece, it is amazing! Moodboard made by @omega-nicole. Thanks Babes for the lovely Artwork. Thank you for reading everyone and much love from all the wolves. 🐺❤ Happy Howlings!

Chapter Three / Pack Master list

Steve closed the door behind You when you came in, your heavy soft scent washing over him, reminding him of the day you arrived. The day you sat on his bed, and he could only imagine what had happened from there to set off your arousal. The one that had sent him straight into a ice shower raging hard, fuck you smelled so good. This had a touch of that, and it made his cock stir. He could only hope that his sweatpants he yanked on when you first knocked could hide it for now. Turning towards you, you were seated on a chair in the far corner of the room, much like how you sit on the alpine chair out on the deck, having folded up your legs, peeking at him as if you were upset you were disturbing him.

Steve walked, a bit stiffer then usual, and went to sit on the end corner of the bed, facing You. “Y/N, Little One, why are you afraid? I can smell it.”

You fidgeted, picking at your fingers, and he reached over to capture your hands in his before you could do anymore. Apologetic you looked at him, and wrinkled your nose instead. Your emotions so easily played across your face in the dark, Steve suspected you felt less vulnerable in the night, and for that he was grateful. It gave him a better reading on what was going on in your mind, and he issued a reassuring squeeze of his hands on yours.

I got you Little One, We will keep you safe.

His wolf rumbled in agreement <Always, she's ours.> Steve could just feel him aching to wrap around you, pull you in close to tease that look off your face, feel your body press into his with need, just as he was feeling now. You would be safe in the circle of his arms.

You immediately felt your Wolf and you calm down when he touched you, his grasp bringing you back to him, and you uncurled, letting your legs stretch and tiptoes brush into the rug beneath the chair. Opening up to him, in a way it made you proud to see his features softening cause you trusted him. “Nothing more than nightmares, but sleeping alone, well it's not something I've done often. Just having someone nearby...” your eyes lifted to meet his, really hoping he didn't misunderstand what you were saying. Steve just studied you a moment, and moved to a stand, his hand outstretched.

“Come on, let your Alpha take care of you. You have nothing to fear.” He smiled, although his body raged at him to take you, to throw you down and rut into you, cover your body with loving bites, and fill your womb with him so you belonged to him forever. All these desires he was able to control, for now. When you rewarded him with a soft look of relief, and slid your hand into his, pulling you to a stand, the Wolf in him crooned softly with affection seeing you take his hand willingly, and lead you to the bed. You crawled up on it, of course giving Steve a perfect view of the heart shape of your ass in sleep shorts swaying back and forth, that did nothing to help his current issue. Slamming him with tented pants, and deep rumbles from his Wolf, he slid in right behind you.

“Can I touch you Little One?” Steve did his best to keep his voice normal, calm. Not the raging fire to claim you he felt inside of you. When you looked over your shoulder, and scooted back to press against his chest, body fit against his just as his Wolf knew you were meant to. Soft against the hardness of the Alpha, his hand sliding over your waist to press his palm under your shirt against your stomach, and there was a visible sigh from you. For now that made his Wolf content, the beast settling back down, laying his head on his forepaws, bright yellowed eyes shimmering in the darkness of Steves mind.

You could feel Steve settling behind you, when you gave the invitation for his hand to encircle you, you relaxed, all that tension caused earlier in your room seeped away. Your Little Wolf started grooming to calm herself, long licks along her forepaw, and knowing she was no longer crying in your mind made you breath out in relief. Steve was warm against you, his fingers brushing against you with a gentleness you've never experienced in another. You wondered if he could feel the fire licking along your nerves just below your skin. The way his heavy scent of the pines he ran through, and metal that you associated with your Alpha stirred your core. Of course he can, you could feel him firm behind you, nudges against your lower back, this wasn't easier on him then it was on you, and yet... this is exactly what you craved, sinking in closer and letting yourself to slip away in his hold.

It was the sweetest torture for both You and Steve.

Bleary eyed Bucky woke with a moan, rolling to his side and his hand went to his head to press against the fucking temple where he felt sharp pain. Whoever fucking clocked him, got him good. Cursing under his breath as he sat up and looked around, trying to get a bearing of where he was. Looked like a normal room, in a normal house, one small lamp was on nearby. There was a weight around his neck, and his hand dropped to a collar, it was cold to his fingertips with carvings all around it, it left a burnt singe sensation in his nose When he dipped inside his mind, the White Wolf was subdued, chains interlacing around him, tight around his throat that it bit through this thick fur into the skin, muzzled, and held down, the White Wolf couldn't move an inch.

So they were using fucking magic on these wolves, great. Bucky thought as the White Wolf growled, trying to move, which resulted in the chains just tightening more. “Toto, I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” Bucky snarked as he tried to feel for a clasp on the physical collar around his neck, and it was no use, it was as smooth around as it was heavy on his neck.

“No Soldier your not in Kansas.” A voice said behind Bucky, and a older man came in, smaller in stature then the two that followed him in, but Alpha... or Alpha like, Bucky couldn't see the physical demeanor that Alphas usually had in this man. But his body language said it, and the way the two larger men were sure to stay back behind him, bringing up behind him like a couple body guards. This must be the wolf Nat had to get past in order to be on the pack territory. “But you are on my territorty. I'm the Alpha of these lands, and I want to know why the “famous” White Wolf was scoping us out. I know your not looking to join.” Pierce snarled at these last words as he sat down, pulling a cigar from his pocket. “Especially not after you killed one of my Trackers.”

“Oh the Tracker on OUR territory? I stayed in No Mans territory, he didnt. Not only did he cross our lines, he entered our Alphas house.”

Pierce cut off the tip of his cigar and lit it, looking over at Bucky after a few inhales. “Your Alpha took something that didn't belong to him. I intend to retrieve her, with interest of course. If I find out he bit her, and she took the fucking bite, I’m going to skin her alive.” He waved a hand over his shoulder and stretched out on the wall were skins Bucky didn't notice before. Various colors and species of shifter. The White Wolf tried fighting his binds all over again, his fur bristling down his back, and roars bursting from him in a rage. Buckys’ face changed to one of horror.

“Thats fucking sick man...”

Pierce gave a wicked grin, blowing cigar smoke in Buckys face as he came closer, the chain holding Bucky tightened and wrapped around his torso quickly by the other men, holding him still. “Is it? They are all animals who couldn't listen to the Alpha, and I can't make a profit, they are added to my collection. Your a handsome fellow, all white, I’ve seen pictures of you. You would make a nice addition. Yet... your wanted by Hydra, and since they have been bugging me for an Alpha Male to do ritual magic, I can’t. That pretty Red Wolf though, Natalie I think she had said. She will look good on my wall.”

This Bucky tried fighting back, break the bonds on the collar, it only resulted in him getting several kicks to the ribs and back. Pierce watched with satisfaction, motioning to Bucky who was once again subdued in pain. “Ship him out to Hydra in a few days, make sure you received the payment at the exchange. And bring my fucking collar back. They can put there own on him.” Bucky got hauled up and dragged away, Pierce going over to the desk, and dialing the phone. “Ahhh yes, the new wolf. Get her situated will you please. Put her in a cell till I can speak with her. ” Settling back in his chair, he went over the stuff they found on Bucky. Particularly his phone. Once he got into it, with a little help from stolen Stark Tech, he was able to go through all his messages, the ones of most interest, Alpha Steve fucking Rogers. Oh he was going to kill that fucker for what he's taken. There also seemed to be some interesting ones from a human, Pierce was sure to jot that info down as well with a smirk.

The next morning Steve woke up slowly, breathing in deeply against the back of your neck and a flex of his arm around you pulled you in tighter against him. Fuck this felt good, his mind was groggy and he grinned against your neck, nuzzling the back of it when he felt his erection press tightly against your back side. Clearly he wasn't thinking straight at the intimate wake up, and his Wolf wasn't going to remind him that Steve was dead set on not getting romantically involved. Steve’s hand traveled up to cup one of your breasts, softly squeezing in his palm, the nipple tight to push for an escape between his fingers. Oh Fuck! His mind cleared and he immediately pulled away from your sleeping form, his whole body throbbing now.

Absolutely fucking not. I'm not taking a sleeping woman as a partner.

<You really think she was sleeping? She felt you, and wanted it. Her arousal spiked as soon as you started to touch her.> Yes Steve had noticed, he just chose to ignore it. But it was enough to have him raging hard. <You humans make everything so fucking difficult.> The Wolf started to push for more control now.

Steve was quick to rush into his bathroom, starting the water to the coldest setting, he didn't even bother looking at himself in the mirror, he knew. The Wolf was right there, ready to take over if Steve gave an ounce of control. Turn animalistic and fuck you right into the mattress until satisfied you belonged to them. Shucking his pants off, he got into the shower and gripped his raging cock, abusing himself to hurry up and cum. His jaw tense to stay as quiet as he could to not disturb you, he came once heavily, making his legs shake at the effort. But it wasn't enough and he sunk to his knees, still one handed and fast, his balls tightening and more thick ropes of cum covered his shower wall, tipping his head back into the freezing cold stream of water.

<This isn't going to solve her problem.> The Large Silver Wolf stretched and sat with his tail wrapping around his paws.

What problem?

When did the fucking wolf get so insightful Steve sighed to himself as he grabbed a towel to dry himself off, not sure what he was going to find in his room.

Trying to breathe through his mouth, Steve could taste your arousal heat as well, making his mouth water and a heavy groan rip through his body, feeling just as he done before the shower. Fucking hell... Pushing open the door with a towel wrapped around his lean hips, his eyes widened to find the bed empty.

You stumbled back into the bedroom, early dawn lighting the room with a brilliance of light and you just shaded your eyes, your reasoning at leaving Steves bed was that you overstepped your boundaries when you found yourself all alone. Plus a deep seated lust started, slicking between your thighs, and you simply couldn't control it. None of it, the ache, the need, how wet your cunt was. How sensitive your skin was and you started to pull off the clothes, trying to get away from the way it was teasing your skin, if only if was calloused fingertips and not fucking cotton. Your body was so sensitive, aching, fucking needing that even the brush of clothing against you was maddening. Your tank to was dropped to the floor and your shorts next, your skin shivered, and was covered in Goosebumps as you curled in on yourself. Your slick already coated your thighs from earlier, and you resisted the urge to touch yourself.

Why is it so bad? It's never been like this before.

The Little Wolf whined, her ears flat as she snapped at nothing in aggitation and ache.

<Why do you think? Your in heat with your Mate, it's going to be stronger then usual. Your body is made for him.> The Little Wolf snarled out with a snap of her jaws. <You two are to stubborn and this is what happens. We're all miserable.>

Another wave made you arch, and bite into the pillows your head were resting on, growling out and crying as the lust filled pain that was shockwaves through your body. Withering against the mattress in an attempt to escape what was unescapable. You never heard or noticed Steve stumbling into your doorway, his hair still wet from his shower as he fisted a hand through it, seeing You twisted up in the sheets. “Y/N!” He growled to get your attention, but your face was buried into the pillows, crying into the feathers that muffled your noises. His gaze flowed down your front, and every muscle was taunt, tense, your thighs clasped together in a locked grip, but even he could see, and smell how hot and slick you were.

<Fuck it Steve, we can't leave her like this.> The Wolf snapped, and it finally broke the man, he couldn’t, wouldn't leave you withering like this burning up. Striding over, he let the towel fall from his body, lithe, muscles rippling at the sight of you withering naked on the guest bed, the sight making his cock twitch, starting the throb into a hard erection. His hands grasped your shoulders to straighten you out, leaving you tear streaked looking up at Steve, panting slightly. “Please Steve, it's never been like this before...” Your eyes are flaring yellow at him, and you reached up to grasp his biceps, arching again with a roll as he hovered over you, seeking contact.

Steve had to get you to calm down, grasping the back of your neck, and his voice took a deeper roll, commanding you to snap back to him. “Y/N, Look at your Alpha.” It didn't pass his notice that you never hesitated this time, your eyes snapping to meet his, your fingers bunch into the muscle of his arms. Steve dropped his nose to slide along your face, huffing deeply as he dragged in your scent, and you went still for him to do so, wanting nothing more then to please your Alpha. Up one side, into your hair, the act made you calm right down, just the occassional shudder rolling through now, soft whimpers and tilting your face to run your nose along his neck, inhaling his scent when he was angled just right and flicking your tongue to take a lap of his skin. Pulling back to look down at you, your eyes still had a subdued yellow look, but calmer, not that wild out of control look.

Rumbling softly in praise, he loosened his hold on you, letting your head ease back down to the pillow. “Easy Little One, It will be okay, I got you.” You nod up at him and he lowers his head to lap his tongue over your lips, and slip between them, stroking his tongue against yours enticing you to meet him, lips pressing and sliding along yours until Steve pulled back to look down at you, moving back enough to admire the rest of you. Fuck you really were beautiful, and in your Heat your whole body responded to the smallest things. Wherever his eyes flowed to, your body would arch for him, rolling. An offering all for him, just the cooler air of him moving back from you was making your nipples pebble, tighten to hard peaks,. Mouthfuls Steve wanted to draw in and suck on them, leave his marks on them, only his pups would would suckle from you. He inhaled sharply to get control of himself again, lifting his eyes back to yours.<Why are you stopping?> His Wolf growled and Steve rested his hand against your hip, snapping at his Wolf to have some patience.

“Better?” He asked as you blinked up at him, the yellow ebbing from your eyes and you nodded. Your hands loosened from his biceps, now just resting there. Steves head dropped to lap lightly against your neck, placing softer bites to keep you calmer, reminders that your Alpha was there to take care of you.

<Not just your Alpha Y/N, your Mate.> Your Little Wolf reminded you softly.

That's why it's so much more intense? It's not just because Im with the Packs Alpha?

Your hands smoothed along his shoulders and down his back, and you hummed softly with content rocking your hips back and forth “Its easier.” You whimper and Steve continues down your collarbone and nipping the tops of your breasts, glancing up. “But?” and you do your best to pay attention, but the needing ache bordering on pain started to build again, rolling your body underneath him, tipping your head back and crying out. “I still need you Steve.” And your fingers tightened in his back, digging into the muscles to hold onto him.

Steve let his hand grasp your hips and slip you further underneath, his knee parting your thigh and rub us against your hot wet core, grinding against you till it registered and you started to rub your slick on him, growling so soft with pleasure at the hardness, the way Steves wet mouth pulled a nipple in, pulling, tugging, slight pinches when his rolls your nipple between his teeth about to release, just to suck back in, dragging his tongue over the sensitive spot that left you moaning and withering underneath him. Flushing bites, that would bruise, moved to the other breast, his hand palming and twisting the peak to keep you right up there.

And Oh it felt so good. You arched right into his touches like they were all you needed, and your legs parted further as he made his way down, one hand still covering a breast, kneeding and palming you, Steve lapped his way down your body, he couldn't get enough of your taste, the way you sounded all urgent for him. Using his shoulders to spread your thighs for him, he couldn't help but bury his nose against your cunt and fill all his senses with such a gift. You were so slick with need, an aching need, that the moment his tongue lapped through your cunt, you cried out his name and arched, your hands fisting into his hair to hold on. “Fuck Steve!”

His large hands clasped around your thighs and tilted you up, the Alpha lapping deeply through the folds, growling in a pleasure that you felt rolling through your core, his tongue filled your entrance, and you clenched around him with a urgent need. But that didn't slow him down, every lick, suck and pull, his hands kneeding into your thighs, till he let his fingers get greedily swallowed into your channel, lifting his head to watch you as he fingers pumped you to stretch around him. “Just like that Little One, cum for me, let me clean you up before I fuck you.” Lips teasing your clit, you bucked your hips into his face, the urgent beard scratches for him to gather all he could from your weeping hole on his tongue was enough to make your want to snap. Coming undone, he was sure to wrap his arms around you when your thighs snapped around his head and you arched your upper body, but Steve wasn't letting you go anywhere, blue eyes lifting to see you sink back down, panting with a racing heart. “So beautiful, fuck every inch of you is just perfect.”

Arching to kneel wiping his mouth and chin off best he could, he watched you post orgasm, flushed and heaving chest as you tried to drag in enough air, he fell over you, holding himself up by his hands on either side of your head to kiss you deeply, this time your tongue lapped at him, moaning at the combined tastes of your Alpha and You. When he pulled away, you almost reached to bring him back, but his hands moved on your hips, and he flipped you to your knees, arching your ass into the air. He paused a moment to see pink marks all over your back, breathing in sharply. What the hell happened to you, Little One?

<Are those cuts or bites?> The Wolf alarmed, pacing back and forth with anxiety. Steve pushed him back further in his mind as he turned his attention back to you. You had dipped your back further, and presented yourself to him. Shivering under his hands, and Steve was again struck with how trusting you were of him to take care of you, how fucking breathtaking you were submitting to him. You pulled a pillow in close and went to your elbows. Biting your lip with nerves, and looking over your shoulder at Steve kneeling behind you, rubbing his hands up and down your sides as he kissed down your spine to the base of your lower back. He didn't seem effected by the bites, or notice them.

“Steve?” Your voice was urgent, making him lift his head from where he was lavishing nips to the dimples in your lower back, your ass pressing into his groin, making him want to sink into you, know just how good you would feel tight around his cock as you had been around his tongue and fingers. “Yes Little One?” He rumbled as he lifted his head and leaned forward, kissing on your shoulder, his hand smoothing to settle on your stomach, fingers splayed as if saying 'All Mine'. “You can't bite me, Please... please dont.” His eyes lifted, he had seen all the scars on your back, suspected what they were, but his focus was distracted, your arousal was so enticing, calling him to fill you, love you. “I won't bite you unless we're both ready.” You let your forehead lean against his, and he let his nose nudge against yours before pulling back behind you.

You were stretched before him, just waiting for him, and Steve gripped the base of his cock, letting the thick head slide between your sick folds, watching you tense and relax, he was thick, heavy and throbbing in his hand, he really couldn't remember the last time anyone turned him on this much, and when he started to press into you, your heavy moan slightly muffled in the pillow while your channel clutched around his sliding cock. It was like you were made for him, the way you stretched for him, pressing back to meet him. Hands folding around your hips, fingers digging in as he thrusted his cock in rest of the way to seat deeply inside of your fluttering channel, you twisted your hands into his bedding. “Fuck you feel see good gripping on me Pretty Girl.” He groaned out after a few moments,

With a pull back of his hips, he didn't start anything fast, letting you get accustomed, ready. He shouldn't have though, you were more then ready for him, and you craved that hard pounding fullness. “Harder Steve, Im yours... make me yours.” You pleaded, and Steve hearing you started to move you over his cock, bring you back harder and faster on his thrusting cock. His thighs smacking into your ass, fingers digging into the soft supple skin to the bone, You appreciated every bruising second of it. You cried, sobbed into the pillow, begging for it.

Steve fell over your back, wrapping and arm around your chest and pulling back till you were sitting against his chest, still rolling your hips just as urgently as well as him pounding into you. He dropped laps to your neck, kisses that were harsh and urgent, hand went from palming your breast to grasping around your neck and under your jaw, holding you in place just how he wanted, tilting your head slightly so he could see your face, the drop of the 'O' of your mouth, the way you “Uh yes Steve, uh uh uh” moans that were so fucking needy and perfect, he couldn't help but want to sink his teeth into a growling bite. He settled for pressing his lips against your racing pulse, inhaling against your hot skin smelling of sex and him, growling deeply.

You reached the grab his forearm that was pressing against your chest in his hold, leveraging yourself to pound your aching throbbing cunt harder on his cock, but it was spiraled fast, coils in your stomach threatening to snap and release, you barely registered him growling words in your ear, whatever they were, you just nodded to them, and then snapped a final time down into his lap. Tipping back into his chest, and your head on his shoulder, feeling your body shoot off the best orgasm, it clouded your mind, getting lost into it. Steve kept a tight hold, still pounding out his own following orgasm, that when he did fall over that edge, leaving hot streams of cum filling you, his thrusts trying to bury himself into the womb, you just couldn't anymore, couldn't stay up. You both crashed heavily into the bed.

So heavy, that the box spring underneath collapsed beneath the two of you, sending the mattress busted onto the floor, Steve pinning you between the broken bed and himself, his knot so fucking thick, you thought you were going to split, but you revealed at the feeling of being so full of him. His panting against your neck changed to a warning growl against your ear. “Don’t Move Y/N.” You shook your head, and twisted it to the side, the two of you laying there, Steve pressed open kisses to your neck and shoulder, mummering against the skin. “So fucking good Little One, I promise to clean you up afterwards and take you to bed.”

You chuckled softly, wanting to stretch, reveal in the orgasm, but Steves cock was still buried deep, throbbing. You knew that it made his orgasm longer, the knotting. And when you flexed slightly, he growled again at you, biting the curve between shoulder and neck, holding you still once more. Nothing hard enough to break skin, but enough for him to ride out the sensation and make you behave. Finally it started to go back to normal. With a groan, Steve pulled away and you rolled to your back, finally stretching out. He looked down at you with a chuckle, and leaned down enough to slide arms underneath you and bridal style, picked you up. Your arm locked around his neck for support and looked down at the bed, turning red.

“Uhh, I’m sorry we broke your bed Steve.” You apologized, looking nervously at him. Steve as well looked at the bed, and shrugged his shoulders before turning away, heading to his bedroom. “Dont worry about it, it was useless in that room anyways. Now I have an excuse to get rid of it.” He said as if it was no big deal, which it wasn’t. He only had that room set up per his ex's request. Where one of them would on occasion sleep when it got really bad between them. He always hated having that room there, now You gave him the perfect opportunity to change it. Careful as he lowered you to the bed you had left earlier, he couldn't help but think to himself You look better in here...

<Exactly where she is meant to be.> The Silver Wolf yawned, one of those wide jaw, tongue curling yawns, that showed how content he was.

Already you were getting sleepy on Steve, he could see it. As quickly as he could, he got a warm wet cloth and eased if between your thighs, over the lower part of your stomach, cleaning himself as well, he tossed the cloth and eased onto the bed, stretching out beside you. As you curled in closer, he let his hand rest on your hip, waiting for you to fall asleep. He wanted to get a closer look at those old scars on your back. Steve was rewarded a couple hours later, when you shifted from your back to your stomach. Asleep himself, the Wolf growled to get his attention, making him stir, his arm loped loosely around your hip when the pacing Wolf woke hip up more, finally coming into a closed eye’d and aware.

You were stretched out on your stomach, Steve could hear your soft breathing signaling you were asleep, and he breathed in deeply, the smell of you two and sex a heavy welcome one, settling warmth and satisfaction to rest in his mind. Both him and the Wolf were content having there mate in the bed, no longer aching in need, when the urge came again, he would be ready. Steve moved away from you a bit to sit up, able now to get a proper look that he wasn't completely focused on one thing. His eyes widened and a snap of his teeth were the best he could do to control the rage that rattled through him.

They are fucking bite marks.... all of them. Steve growled sharply in anger and disbelief as his fingers traced over one that was particularly large and deep. The pink skin of the scar slightly raised and shiny. His palm smoothed along your back, his brow pulling together further to wrinkle at all the marks they had inflicted on you. All the times another Wolf tried to subdued and claim you as their own. No wolf willingly let's themselves get bitten that many times, go through the attempted bonding. No wonder you told him not to bite you, even through your Heat, when you would crave it the most. Steve’s eyes roamed down your back and they stopped just in your lower back area. The rage that rolled through him made him stiffen and clench his jaw from saying anything out loud. All of them will pay for this, starting with Pierce. It was hard to reign in his anger, making his throat close and his chest burn at the sight. He wanted blood, for you and who knows how many others had this been done to.

<We will kill him for doing this to her, and all the wolves that left her marked like this.> The Silver Wolf paced back and forth, ready for action, his fur raised along his spine in his anger, muzzle rolled up to show bared fangs just waiting to crush a windpipe, shake his victim till his neck snapped. Any that bit his mate, he wanted to shred them till there was nothing left to piece back together.

When Bucky and Natasha return with the intel, we will certainly be doing something. Council can go fuck themselves, waiting this long to bring Pierce under control.

The Wolf stopped pacing enough to study his mate laying there to make sure you were still at peace. <Will she be able to ever accept our Bite?>

If she doesn't that changes nothing. This is her home, bite or no bite. Besides our scents all over her, no one will doubt who she is with as long as that is what Y/N WANTS. Steve reminded his Wolf firmly.

You never know, things can change when were not all caught up in the moment.

Easier said then done, Steve thought as he let his hand slide along the curve of your side to where your hips flared out, and sure enough light bruises in the shape of his fingers colored your shin. He knew he should be sorry he left them from where he took you from behind, but he wasn’t. He loved seeing his mark on you somewhere, even one that would fade in time. It made the others seem insignificant. they had no true value, memories of a time that you were no longer subjected to. He had a new purpose, to change every scar left into a new memory, one that wouldn’t remind you of Pierce but of him. If you let him, of course.

Steve knew one thing for sure, Pierce wouldn't ever lay a hand on you again. You stirred under his palm, he could feel you draw in a deep breath of air and release under his touch, turning more into him when you realized he was there, moving from the pillows to lay your head on his sheet covered lap, still half asleep. Steve bit back a smile, suspecting you were still out of it, and this was your Little Wolf he was seeing more of. “Y/n, welcome back Little One.” His hand moved from your back to brush back your hair, see your face better. Your eyes were still firmly closed, and you twisted your face into his knee, rubbed the sleep out of your eyes with a groan. Steve still ran his fingers through your hair, and when your eyes spring open, you twist to lay on your back, looking up at him.

“You saw them, didn't you? “ you asked with a bit of hesitation, trying to gauge what he was thinking.

Steve’s head tilted a bit while his fingers were gentle through your hair, and down the back of your neck, giving a gentle brush of fingertips along your neck, as if memorizing the shape of your body. “I did Little One, because of Pierce?” His question was gentle, but it still made your chest tighten, and your Little Wolf crooned softly to comfort your pain.

“They are from all the times he tried to sell me. The seller, would try to initiate the bite, but I just couldn't do it back. At first it was fear, I was pretty young when it started, my first heat at 18, as it went on and he couldn't match me in the pack, that's when he decided to sell me.” You shifted to sit up, reaching for more of the sheet and covering yourself. “It just felt wrong, the others told me to just submit to one, that the bond can be broken later. If my new home didn't work out, I might be able to get away. I thought about it... Just let it happen, and hope it would be better. But I was to much of a coward to take that chance. Better the evil you know and all that.”

Both man and the beast snapped at attention to that, Steve leaned forward and caught your chin in his thumb and forefinger, his eyes seeking to connect to yours when he tipped your face up to look at him. “You are no fucking coward Y/N, what he put you and the others through is enough to end him. This isn't supposed to be a sick deprived thing, this is supposed to be something you carry with you forever.” His forehead leaned against yours, and he inhaled you deeply, drawing in your scent, and your eyes closed in return, doing the same. Once Steve pulled back, he let his hold drop, and was rewarded with a small smile. It was enough to make his Wolf howl in the small victory.

“How about breakfast out on the deck, and we can go say goodbye to Tony and Pepper before they head out?” Steve suggested, wanting to end this on a good note, and when he held his hand out in a offering, you seemed to study him and then his open hand, when you unfolded yourself, and placed your hand in his, once more showing a bit of trust and allowing your Alpha to take care of you.

Pepper packed the overnight bag they used while Tony paced back and forth on the phone. The clipped tone of his voice, and his fast paced stride as he would his way around the cabin Steve offered them, showed his agitation, it made Pepper herself start to get a bit aggravated. She understood The Council, but they set her mate off more then she was okay with. “Steve has a couple of his wolves already assessing the situation. Well what did you expect, he had a victim of Pierces right on his doorstep, Not to mention they came on his territory and into his own home. You can't expect him to just 'sit back and wait.” Pepper zipped the bag and brought it by the door, moving over to Tony and she cut him off from his pacing, her hands sliding up his chest and around the back of his neck. His eyes flickered to her even though he continued speaking. “Yea, I hear you, fine. If that's what you think is best... Oh, uh huh... I'm up in the middle of--” He clicked the phone off and Pepper took it off him, tossing it aside.

“Line went dead, real shitty reception up here.” Tony smirked and Pepper laughed, backing him up to the bed, and making him sit for a moment, her fingers brushing through his hair. “I take it Ross isn't at all happy with what you've told him?” she looked down at him, taking in the bit of stress lines furrowed in his brow. He sighed and wrapped his arms around her hips and shook his head. “No, He doesn’t want Rogers taking off after that pack on his own, no “rogue packs" being viglantes. Unfortunately this will also speed up those Accords the Council has been pushing for.” Pepper dropped her head to kiss his forehead and pulled away, bringing him to a stand. “Your doing your best trying to keep the peace Tony, no one can ask for more.” Tony quirked a smile at his mate, and grabbed there bag, looking around the room. “Ya know, Rogers doesn't have a bad set up here.”

“Mmhhh, and especially now that he has a mate, he's going to root right down.” Pepper added, knowing that Steve’s pack was one they were worried about once the Accords were dropped by the council. Tonys grinned at Peppers words, drawing her in close. “You really think that woman is his partner?” Pepper nodded and went to open the door, holding Tonys hand. “Didnt you see them last night, even when they weren't together, couldn't stop staring at one another, plus his scent is all over her. It's just a matter of time before it happens.”

Tony snorted as they headed towards the car to ditch the bag before going to say goodbye. “I don't know how I feel about you sniffing other wolves.” He tossed the bag in the back and raised his hand in greeting to Steve and You. Pepper slid up against his side, nipping his neck and whispering “You smell much better, does that make it okay?” He didn't have time to answer when Steve and You came up on them, it didn't pass Tony or Peppers notice that you two hovered close to one another, not quite touching, but close. Plus it was hard to miss your Heat, although it wasn't a arousing scent for either of them, just feminine, and soft.

“Rogers, as always a pleasure. Thank you for the lovely accommodations, I was telling Pepper that we should get a similar set up. Maybe on the other side of your lake here.” Tony took a glance over his sunglasses at the lake as if assessing it, and Steve probably turned three shades of white at the idea. “Actually that's Pack Land Tony, I was sure to put it right in the middle of our territory when I expanded.” Pepper rolled her eyes and patted Steves arm. “Kidding Steve, he's only kidding. You know you couldn't get Tony to leave New York.”

“Well maybe if you wanted to live the Malibu life I would Pep. Y/N, dear, Im glad your safe here, and of course if you happen to need anything from us, don't hesitate to call.” Tony wrapped You up in a surprise hug that elicited a growl from Steve and a squeak from you.

<Whats he doing touching our Mate?> The Wolf snapped at the air, ready to go after Tony.

Stop, he's just messing with us. She's fine, see. You embraced him back once you weren't shocked anymore and nodded, thanking him for the offer.

Pepper grabbed Tonys arm and dragged him to the car before he actually set Steve off, an apologetic look over her shoulder. “Steve, your order, will be in next week. Till next time.” She shoved Tony in the car, and Steve instinctly moved closer to you, and you to him, the two of you waving the couple away. Finally after a few moments, you simply remark. “Well they were nice... “ Steve snorts and gives a sideways glance. “Tonys a pain, Pepper is a saint for putting up with him.” Pulling out his phone, he took a look at the time. “I got to get up to the crew, we've already taken a day off.” You frown a bit, and look down. The only reason they missed a day was because the Trackers broke into Steves cabin. Because of you.

Steve caught sight of your frown, the way you pulled back, and immediately slid his fingers along your jawline, tilting your face back up, shaking his head. “Wasnt your fault Little One, I normally shut down the day after our run.” The relief that flooded your eyes made Steve soften, and he couldn't help but place a soft innocent kiss on your lips, rewarded with a flush of pink. His wolf was smug watching the tender moment between you two, but real life called Steve away when his phone started ringing with Sams name flashing. Yes, we gotta get up to the Lot.

<Or stay with our Little One, she is in heat after all.> The Wolf offered a suggestion, both animal and man inhaling your scent, commiting it to memory. His eyes roamed over yours, and your thighs started to clench under his gaze, and teeth would pull at your lower lip. Your arousal once more heavy in the air between you two, and Steve knew that he couldn't leave you alone today, not like this. Maybe it was selfish reasons, as he felt his cock start to harden, but in good concupiscence he couldn't leave you in pain, not when he could help you. “Or... I can stay ?”

When Steve extended his hand, it was hard denying that the fire coursing through your body that was laced with need made it hard not to just throw yourself at the Alpha. He already sated you once, made the urge into a full background ache for at least a little while. But now slick was pooling your cunt, the feeling of clothing was making you on edge, wanting to get them off your skin. You didn't need the clinging cotton all over you. You needed skin to skin burning into you. If you took his hand, would you ever be able to look back, take it all back.

Your Little Wolf nudged you to slide your hand into his. <take it Y/N, He needs you as much as you need him.>

He can have any mate he desires, not one as damaged as me. You stated bitterly to your wolf, and she snarled at you. He knows now Ive been used, and not suitable for the Bite.

Your eyes roamed over Steve momentiarly, and you couldn't see where he needed you, and your Little Wolf, calmed once more, nudges you again. <You can't always see it, the way he held you last night was just as much for him.>

All this happening in the seconds Steve held his hand to yours, and you stepped forward, to let your slip into his, and stepping in closer to him. Your face tilted up to his, and this time it wasn't in sadness, but need and trust. “Thank You Alpha.” Together you two made your way back to his cabin, and this time when he stretched you out on his bed, the only one left now in the cabin, both of you void of clothing, he couldn't help but admire you properly this time, his hands sliding along your sides to trace your curves, kisses flowing up and down your body worshipping till you were wriggling under him with soft pleas, when Steve would surge himself to fill you, there was a collective sigh between you two feeling him stretch you open and tighten around him, rocking together with deep demanding kisses and you tipping back when he told you to, coming completely undone.

Other times it was rough and dominating fucking. Your hands pinned over your head in his own, hard demanding thrusts claiming not just your cunt, but your whole body, pounding it into the soft cotton sheets and feather pillows on the mattress, clashing teeth biting at each other's lips, and tongues, his hand in your hair to rip your head back, Steves licking a long claiming lap up the column to your ear, grunting in it. “Give it to me Little One.” He said in the dying twilight, leaving him in shadows above you, this blue eyes as always demanding your attention, doing the best you could to listen. It was hard when you felt yourself floating in a space that was all pleasure and relief, your fingers curling around his palm keeping you pinned to the mattress, nodding that you would, you would try. You wanted to listen to him, you and your wolf craved to give him what he wanted. But by this point you were so tired, you just wanted to curl into him and sleep, free now of the ache, he sated it, made it shrink away into a distant morning memory. You tipped your head into the pillows, screaming his name while he continued powerful demanding thrusts, your cunt locking around and the last thrust had him swelling inside of you, brimming you with his seed,making you whimper out in relief, and cutching to his chest.

Careful Steve maneuvered both of you so you were straddled against his hips, rubbing your face into his shoulder and he told dragging breaths to ride out the Knotting, keeping you full of him. Your fingers dig slightly into his biceps as you rub your face into his neck, moaning out softly. “Fuck Im so tired.” Your yawning against his skin, and Steve rubs your back, kissing your temple. “Go to sleep Little One, I will be right here for you.” Rumbling softly from his chest, The Wolf settling to stand guard over your sleeping body. Steve can feel you sinking away after he tells you to, your breathing soft against his neck, and the Alpha waits till his own body cooperates, the knot easing down till he was soft again and able to ease you to lay on the bed, your lashes fluttering up for half a second before you shifted to your side, twisting till your back was pressed to him.

Knowing you would be out for a few hours at least till your urges took over once more Steve slid a sheet up to pool around your hips in case you caught chill, and moved to the edge of the bed, picking up his pants to dig out his cell phone from his pocket. Being preoccupied for the day with his mate, he hadn't been able to check on Bucky and Natasha. When he saw no messages from them, his brow furrowed. Glancing over his shoulder to check that you were still sound asleep, he slipped on boxer shorts, and stepped out onto the deck from the door in the bedroom leading to the deck, leaving the door open to let the room fill with the fresh lake air.

I won't be, I know she's got another day or two like this. Remember not to get to attactched... Steve tried gently reminding the Wolf, and the Wolf just snorted in disbelief at this point.

Still frowning as he pulled up texts, he didn't want to risk blowing Buckys cover should he be scouting Pierces lands by making his phone ring with a call.

~Any updates Buck? Haven't heard anything from either you or N all day.~ Hitting send, he set his phone down on the railing, and leaning on his elbows, he looked out over the lake, watching the stars and moon shimmer over the surface. No longer full, it wasn't as bright as usual, but Steve still felt the pull to it. It was hard to believe the run had just been a few nights ago, seeing your sleek form weaving through the trees, yellow eyes reflecting at him playfully in the moonlight. Even after spending a day together in bed exploring all the ways he could make you come undone, Steve missed feeling your warmth press into him.

Turning around, he could see the pale of your bare back in his dark bed, the moonlight lighting up enough to be able to study the curve of your hip just peeking out from under the sheet. Recalling how well you fit in his palms, you crying his name with those sweet pleases, wanting to cum again. The memory made him smile.

Steves breath caught, but fertility was hard among shifters. For some reason, having kids took a long time for mated pairs, so he wasn't to worried, having never gotten pregnant with Alanna, and it wasn't like they didn't try.

I don’t know what you think is going on, but we're not a mated pair. The likelihood I've gotten her pregnant yet is slim.

You heard her... I probably would have if she hadn't specifically asked us not to. Begged us not to . And you saw her back. It's understandable she wouldn't want that, maybe not ever.

That idea made Steves heart ache a little, although he didn't have a strong bond with Alanna, it was still something Steve appreciated, giving there wolves a connection all just for them. Until he severed it, cut Alanna loose from his Wolf. His Wolf recalling the female he once shared his life with, started shaking out his fur to dispel the discomfort she brought up in him, even with the bond, the Alpha Wolf and Alanna’s Wolf fought more then were ever companions, always snapping at each other, rarely sharing affectionate moments in the bond. When they got to physically run together, it wasn't a smooth team, pulling one another up short on accident, the dance wolves did was never smooth with them two. They could never sync up... Unlike him and You on the beach.

No, looking back on it, Steve knew bonding with Alanna was a mistake. Already this little bit he shared with You was different. Before he could get lost further in his thoughts, his phone buzzed with a message from Bucky. ~Alpha, N is with the pack now, and I'm waiting till I can extract her and bring her home.~ Steve read the message, but one part seemed odd, Bucky calling him Alpha. Never in there lives had Bucky called him that. Nicknames or Steve, but never Alpha.

~Alpha? what the hells gotten into you. Stay safe brother.~ Hitting send his brow deepened in an unsettled way when he heard you stirring behind him, holding your hands over your breasts when you came up next to Steve, nudging his shoulder lightly with your nose. “You okay Alpha?” Now hearing you say Alpha stirred him in the right ways, and his face smoothed, cocking a smile at you. “Nothing to worry about Little One, but what are you doing awake?”

“I couldn't sleep, not really. I had an urge... “

“An urge, for what Little One?” Steve questioned although he suspected he knew what she needed from him.

Dropping your sheet to pool around your feet when you went to tiptoes, kissing his cheek and catching Steve by surprise when you grinned up at him. “A swim in the moonlight.” And just as quick as you were standing before him, you werent. Even in your human form you were quick, moving down the stairs to reach the end of the dock. Steve pushed his worries about Bucky out, and followed behind, catching up once you slowed down, and dipped your foot in the water, Steve wrapped his arms around you from behind, and with a loud squeal from you, both tumbled into the water, breaking the pristine still top playing while chasing each other around, swimming further out.

Nothing but the night sky to witness you two catching each other, legs tangling together, arms around each other as you both pressed your lips together in a kiss.

Natasha paced the room, having been stuck in with other wolves for well over a day she was guessing. Once they brought her into the center of there lands, Pierce immediately rounded on her, and they forced her to shift back with threat of an injection. It could wipe out her Wolf if she was given to strong of a dose, immediately recognizing the solution filling the vial.

“Well welcome to my pack.” Pierce had snarled out slightly, going up in the naked woman's face, lewedly sniffing her neck. “Thought you were being slick huh, come infiltrate into our pack. We already got your companion, the White Wolf.” Natashas heart sank knowing they had Bucky, but she gave no inclination of it physically. She didn't have all that training for nothing.

“I don't know what your talking about Sir.”

“Sir, I like that. But Im afraid you do, see I can smell him all over you. Same scent, your packs scent. Your Alphas scent. Although it's not as strong on you. I do like a little defiant bitch. Might just keep you for now. To bad Alpha Steve used you as bait, lost himself a good female.” Pierces hands circled Natashas throat and dragged her to his eye level, searching them for defiance. Natashas wolf was raging to attack him, to get his hands off her, but Natasha kept docile, calm, waiting.

Let them underestimate me. It will be there biggest mistake.

Her Wolf listened, her muscles flexing under her red fur, muzzle rolled just enough to show bared fangs. As soon as Natasha released her, she would rip out anyone's throat.

“Put her with the others, they will give her something to wear.” Pierce finally decided, and that was that. They dragged Natasha, still compliant to a holding area, and shoved her in. The woman immediately growling at the amount of people in the room, lounging around, waiting for something to happen. A few approached her as Natasha searched for a way out with a scan of her eyes. Windows were up high, higher then any of them could jump in either form, and steel wire bared being able to get through, the only door a steel one behind her. Sighing within’ herself, she turned her attention back to the few people coming to greet her, holding out a tank top and shorts.

“Welcome to the Sales Floor.” One girl smiled as she handed over the clothing, Natasha grabbing it, the tank just a touch to small and the shorts a bit to big.

“The what?” She asked and waved a hand over her outfit. “Thanks by the way, Im Natalie.” Giving a fake name just as easily as if she gave her actual name.

“Sales Floor, were all for sale for the right buyer.” The girl held out her hand and Natasha shook it while trying to make a count of people in the room. She had been filled in on your situation a bit before leaving by Steve, and well this just confirmed all that they knew about You. The door clicked behind her, and two oversized men entered, growling at anyone close till everyone scrambled to get out of there way. One wasn't fast enough and the man's hand shot out to clasp around her neck, and the other checked her face, nodding. Without a word, they clasped a collar around her neck, and she immediately complied once it was on, falling to her knees and waiting. Two others were captured the same way, inspected and collared, then all 3 were led out of the room.

“And what was that?!” Natasha asked, the girl, dread sinking into her gut.

“They will be presented to some Alphas for sale. They will inspect them, and if they chose to purchase them, they will issue the bite to claim them. Of course if the bite doesn't work, they can return us. Also Im Kat.” She beckoned Natasha to follow her. “There’s not much to see of The Sales Floor, but let me show you around.”

Natasha felt sickened by all this, seeing all this. We're leaving as soon as possible with as many of them as well can, and find Bucky to.

<The sooner the better> The Red Wolf still coiled and ready, ears flattened and her green eyes shifting back and forth in mistrust at the others. There were at least a good twenty wolves crammed into a small space, danger laced the air with a sour taste.

Natasha followed Kat, learning more and more to bring back to Steve. That was the first night, by the second night, the night Steve and You enjoyed your swim, Natasha had a rough plan in place, just waiting for the right opportunity.

tags- @what-is-your-plan-today @p8tn0lish @jtargaryen18 @official-and-unstable-satan @kimisama1989 @princess-evans-addict @bigbandbombshell @omega-nicole @patzammit @onetwo3000 @fckdeusername @alexakeyloveloki @ayamenimthiriel @irishflutiegirl @mery-be @djeniiscorner@irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @rinkashirikitateku @fallenoutofrose @caffiend-queen @southerngracela @titty-teetee @imboredat2am @bohemian-barbie @farfromtommy @jennmurawski13 @keiva1000 @nightriver99 @nerdygirl8203 @lielullabye @simsadventures @wonderlandfandomkingdom

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moonlitceleste · 4 years ago

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No Time to Die (Villain!Mari)

A/N: This is a songfic based on No Time to Die by Billie Eilish. I literally listened to this every day of the month and another six hours on repeat while writing this. It’s a miracle I’m not sick of it yet, but it’s a very timeless song. I seriously recommend listening to it to set the mood!

I should've known I'd leave alone Just goes to show That the blood you bleed Is just the blood you owe

Marinette hadn’t meant to become a villain. Some might consider her an antihero, but her methods were much too ruthless for that. She wasn’t always like this—wasn’t always vicious and cruel. But her life was a tragedy, and there was no hope of ever making it out unsullied. She had seen too much, gone through too much for someone her age. All life ever did was take, take, take, and screw her over time and time again.

There was once a time where things were simpler, when she would have preached justice and righteousness above all. Those times were long gone.

It was her own sense of selflessness that led to her downfall. Marinette was once thought too pure to be corrupted, but power could corrupt anyone. Not even she could contest against the forces of the universe.

Perhaps what transpired had only unleashed something that was in her all along—a dark side she could no longer control. A thirst for justice, more merciless and ruthless than anything she had felt before. But it was the price she had to pay in order to keep balance within the world. When it was time to do what had to be done, the darkness inside her took over. It made her a villain.

Maybe what she just found out was inevitable, then. Marinette knew she shouldn’t have let her guard down, but a naïve part told her maybe things would be different. Maybe he would be different. She guessed she was wrong about that.

She wanted to feel anger at the injustice, at the fact that someone she once trusted had deceived her yet again—and she did. But it was overshadowed by agony, because maybe she deserved it. Maybe this was karma for all the blood she had spilled. The universe must maintain balance, after all.

Marinette gave one last lingering glance at the picture in her hands before placing it in her purse.

She left the apartment alone.

We were a pair But I saw you there Too much to bear You were my life But life is far away from fair

“Tim!”

Marinette shrieked as the black-haired boy chased her around her apartment, weaving around the moving boxes she had never bothered to throw out. Her eyes flitted around, trying to decide the best course of action. There! She swerved right, hoping to throw him off, but she had taken too long to decide.

The air left her lungs as a body tackled her. “Oof!” she exclaimed, unprepared for the force. Gravity took over and her body fell forward, but a pair of arms caught her from behind. Tim set her upright before wrapping his arms around her waist like a hug, trapping her body against his.

“Give me the phone.”

She panted, trying to catch her breath before responding. Her chest heaved from running for so long. Normally she would have been able to hold out for longer, but the business she attended to the day before was especially taxing.

“No,” Marinette said, laughing breathlessly.

She resisted the urge to turn around and look at him, which would have been difficult anyways considering their height difference.

“I guess I’ll just have to take it from you then.”

She had a grand total of one second to register his words before he attacked. His fingers jabbed at her sides, prompting shrieks and laughter.

“St-stop it,” she gasped.

Tim smirked, an expression that wasn’t common on his face but beautiful nonetheless.

“Not until you surrender.”

His tickle assault continued for as long as Marinette could hold out (which wasn’t long).

“I yield!” she squawked, wanting the sensation to end as soon as possible.

“Do you?” he asked.

Marinette’s breath hitched as she suddenly realized how close he was.

His dark hair brushed her forehead, and she could count every lash framing his steel blue eyes. His normally porcelain skin was tinted a rosy hue, cheeks flushed from exhaustion. Or maybe from their proximity.

She knew they weren’t just friends—she wasn’t stupid, and neither was he. But they were both content with their relationship, and neither bothered to do anything about it.

Except that now, in the moment, Marinette wanted more. Apparently Tim agreed, with the way he was looking at her. There was a hungry glint in his eyes, which flickered down to her lips before gazing at her once more. A beat was all they needed to come to a silent agreement.

Marinette closed her eyes, tilting her head upwards from her position on the floor. Warm breath fanned across her face moments before soft lips brushed against hers. She melted into the kiss, feeling his heartbeat thud against her chest, smelling his cologne mixed with sweat. It was languid and sweet, and Marinette smiled against his lips. It just felt right.

The kiss ended abruptly, however, as Tim pulled away. She frowned in confusion and sat up, ready to ask what was wrong before catching sight of the phone in his hand.

“You cheater!” Marinette gasped. She straightened and lunged for her phone, but he simply held it out of reach before clicking the “delete” button.

“Gotcha,” he replied smugly.

“Hey,” Marinette pouted. “I liked that picture.”

The photo was one she had taken of Tim while he was unaware, which led to him chasing her around in an effort to get her to delete it.

“You owe me another one.”

He simply sighed and motioned her to come closer, taking his phone out at the same time. Marinette smoothed her hair out as he wrapped an arm around the back of her neck. She smiled at the camera before noticing Tim’s neutral expression.

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Smile!”

He gave an awkward grimace, and Marinette poked him in the side until he rolled his eyes and gave a real smile to the camera.

After the selfie was snapped, they both looked at the results. Tim seemed surprised at the outcome, and Marinette had to admit they looked good together. Their previous tussle was obvious from their flushed faces, but it made the picture all the more charming. For a stressed young CEO and a secret villain, they looked happy.

She felt a gaze burning into her and turned to see Tim looking at her with an uncharacteristically soft expression on his face.

“What?” she asked, confused.

His face morphed as a devious glint appeared in his eyes. Faster than a snake, he darted forward and placed a kiss onto the tip of her nose.

Marinette gaped like a fish, caught off-guard. She barely registered the flash of a camera; when she did, however, she snapped to attention.

“Hey! Gimme that!” she said indignantly.

Tim started to run, phone in hand, and Marinette followed, giggling at the boy’s antics all the way.

Giggled. It wasn’t something she thought she’d ever do again, but things changed after she met Tim Drake. She changed. After she met him, it was easier to control the darkness that took over her soul. It made her a little more human.

Moments of safety and happiness were always fleeting for her—even more so after the incident. But with Tim, things were different. Marinette felt normal around him. She felt loved. But little did she know those moments would soon come to an end.

Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to everybody else

Love hurts. That was something Marinette knew better than anything, because she had always been the type to give her love away without receiving any in return—but that didn’t stop her from continuing to do it.

She was the problem. That’s what she’d been told all her life. Even when she was right, she was wrong. Especially when she was right. Anything that went south was her fault, because Marinette had to be perfect even though all she did was mess up.

Maybe the fact that everything in her life went wrong was a sign that she just wasn’t meant to be happy. She would never be good enough.

That was always obvious to everyone else.

That I'd fallen for a lie? You were never on my side Fool me once, fool me twice Are you death or paradise? Now you'll never see me cry There's just no time to die

It was an accident.

Marinette had been scoping out her next target when she realized she had left something important behind at her apartment. She cursed her forgetfulness, which cropped up at the worst of times. Missions seemed to be the only thing she could succeed at nowadays, and there was no room for error. Checking her watch, she saw that there was still enough time to rush to her apartment and back.

She got there in record time, moving silently and swiftly, about to go through the window when a small detail caught her eye. Her front door was slightly ajar. When she had first moved in, she had to figure out a way to finesse the faulty door and get it to close correctly. Warning bells sounded in her head—someone had broken in. Or maybe she had forgotten to close the door correctly in a simple slip of the mind, but that was unlikely. No matter how off her game, Marinette wouldn’t have made this mistake. It was a reflex that couldn’t be broken.

She proceeded with caution, eyes narrowed. However tragic, the incident did provide her with the benefit of enhanced powers. Whoever was in there didn’t stand a chance. She could feel the darkness start to creep in, taking control.

The bluish glow of a light illuminated the inside of her apartment, and her limbs tensed in preparation. Movement in the corner of her vision made her snap her head to attention. There was a figure leaving her room, and the person was toying with something in their hands.

It was nearly pitch-black, but her enhanced senses bypassed any inhibitors. The culprit was wearing a black and red costume with strange chest straps and an emblem—one of Gotham’s vigilantes, then.

That meant they were onto her. She knew it would happen eventually; she was good, but Batman was better. Perhaps if she attempted to prove her innocence she could at least delay her inevitable capture. She dealt with magic, anyways—one more ancient than any other form. The traces left were hard to find by an experienced magic user and impossible to find by a non-user.

She was turned away from the window, about to return to her previous location as proof of her innocence and spin an alibi. But as she did so, the vigilante’s voice stopped her in her tracks. He was speaking quietly into his comm, but she could hear it. She could recognize it too. It sounded almost like—

“Tim,” the voice on the other end of the system said. “Are you almost done?”

It clicked, and horror flooded her Marinette’s body. It snuffed out the darkness, pushing the rage to the corners of her mind. It can’t be him, she thought. Because if it was him, it meant that she was wrong. She trusted him, and she was wrong.

“No names on comms, Dick,” the hero responded.

Any doubt Marinette had that it wasn’t Tim disappeared. A pit opened in her stomach, and the feeling of white-hot rage and betrayal blazed in her mind. Every inch in her body was screaming at her to get out, but she stayed. She needed to know.

“I checked her room, but I couldn’t find anything incriminating yet.”

“What about the bug?”

“Nothing. It didn’t pick anything up.”

A pause.

“That’s weird. Do you think she knows?”

“That I’m Red Robin? No. She wouldn’t have let me get this close if she did.”

Static sounded on the other side of the line before Dick responded one last time.

“Keep searching. If you can’t find anything else on her, we’ll have to take a more… direct approach.”

“Roger that.”

Tim pressed a button on his comms and resumed whatever he was doing, but Marinette had heard enough. She wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. She wanted to jump into the room and ask him if it was all a lie. Voices screamed at each other in her head, trying to get her to do something. Marinette drowned them all out. She steeled herself, turning her back to the window. Taking in a deep breath, she opened her eyes and fell into the emptiness.

I let it burn You're no longer my concern Faces from my past return Another lesson yet to learn

Marinette unpacked the boxes she had teleported from her apartment, face carefully blank. The day after she had found out Tim was Red Robin was spent packing her things. Normally they would have already been ready to go; all she would have to do was enact one of her contingency plans. After all, Marinette was prepared for everything. But she wasn’t prepared for this.

The warehouse was one of her most secure, but it was cold and empty, the only warmth emanating from the gas fireplace. The fire flickered, and she could feel her resolve flicker with it. After a few moments, she placed her purse on her lap and gently pulled out the picture of her and Tim.

It was only taken a few weeks ago, but a lot of things could change in a few weeks. Her happy expression was foreign now, and Marinette closed her eyes as she gripped the picture tighter.

After a few moments of hearing the crackling fire, she opened her eyes and studied Tim’s face, carving it into memory.

Then she let it go and let it burn.

That I'd fallen for a lie You were never on my side Fool me once, fool me twice Are you death or paradise? Now you'll never see me cry There's just no time to die

Marinette had dreams of him often. She hated them, because they gave her hope when hope was what hurt her in the first place.

In those dreams, he told her that he had always loved her. That he had made a mistake in deceiving her, and he wanted her back. Needed her back. He entertained her delusions, and she believed him. At least, until she woke up and cold reality struck.

She really was a fool.

No time to die No time to die

She didn’t think she’d ever see him again.

She didn’t know if she wanted to see him again.

But here they were, facing off. Hero versus villain.

Tim had shown up on one of her missions, somewhere off the coast of a random country. She couldn’t remember at this point. The darkness had consumed her completely, wrath twisting her face into one that was unrecognizable.

“You don’t have to do this.” The placating words sparked her temper.

“Neither did you,” she replied bitterly. They both knew what she really meant.

She charged forward, and Tim parried with his bo-staff, gritting his teeth at the force only to stumble backward when she ducked around and behind him. She sent a kick to the back of his knees—a dirty move, but she never played fair anyways.

Bracing his staff on the ground before him, he used the momentum just in time to flip himself over and avoid falling on his face.

Marinette surveyed emotionlessly as he panted from exhaustion. She could easily take him out right then, but she didn’t want to waste her energy. She had already done what was needed, and her target’s blood would take absolutely forever to get out of her suit.

It seemed as if Tim noticed, and his disbelief at her cruelty seeped through when he asked “How could you?”

She laughed derisively. “How could I?”

The vigilante at least felt some remorse from the way his eyes flashed. Up until this point she had been cold and detached, but he could hear a hint of desperation seep into her words. He knew what she was really asking: if what they had was real. If he had ever loved her, or if it was all a lie. He hesitated before opening his mouth.

“A mission is a mission.”

If he blinked he might have missed it. For a brief second she recoiled, visibly struck before schooling her expression into one of neutrality. Her back straightened, and she fell back into the person he couldn’t recognize. The darkness around her pulsed, and he shifted his weight into a defensive stance, preparing for another attack. But he wasn’t ready for what she had in store.

The darkness expanded, and Tim’s vision grew hazy. He could dimly register his body swaying before it hit the ground. As he faded in and out of consciousness, Marinette stepped into his field of vision. She looked the same since he had last seen her, but her eyes were shadowed and unforgiving. The same lips he used to kiss mouthed the words “a mission is a mission” before everything faded into black.

Fool me once, fool me twice Are you death or paradise? Now you'll never see me cry There's just no time to die

She didn’t think it would end like this.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

It was just another normal mission; nothing dangerous—or at least, more dangerous than usual. Hunt down her target, extract information, do away with them as painfully as possibly, and leave.

But after her interaction with Tim, her work had gotten more sloppy. Rather than the icy rage that had become her new normal, her movements were fueled by anguish. Recklessness trumped logic, like she had lost control. And although she was off her game, she wouldn’t let something so trivial become a hindrance.

Until it did.

Marinette was ambushed. She leapt into action as quickly as her reflexes allowed; her movements were slightly delayed, but it was so imperceptible it shouldn't have made a difference.

Except for the fact that her attackers somehow knew her. Knew how she moved, knew exactly what her weaknesses were.

She took down two of the three opponents, leaving the best for last. But with every punch she threw they knew exactly where to block. Her adversary seemed to sense her frustration and laughed behind their infuriating black mask. Marinette snarled, lunging for the figure only to stumble over thin air.

“I thought you were supposed to be better than this.”

She got up and drew in deep breaths, sweat coating her forehead and exhaustion making her weary. She slowly walked in a circle, eyes darting around the shadows in the room.

“You beat one of the Bats, did you not?”

The darkness around her flickered, and that’s when the opponent struck.

Marinette felt the impact, but didn’t realize anything had happened until she moved her hand to see it covered in red. The liquid was warm and sticky, and the puddle beneath her was growing bigger by the second. Blood? She moved her hand closer to her face in an attempt to see it more clearly, but her vision blurred. The room swayed, and she heard an oof as her body hit the floor. It had come from herself.

She knew she had to do something, but she couldn’t move. It was like she was paralyzed. Marinette reached out only to have her arm fall lazily into the pool of red, limbs weak and movements sluggish.

Scarlet seeped into her gloves, and her body burned but was so numb at the same time. She felt so sleepy. Sleep, she thought, the word repeating in her mind like a mantra. A nap sounds good. Right before her eyes closed, pain erupted in her side. Her body jolted, and a cross between a gurgle and cough left her mouth. She tilted her head up to frown at whoever had kicked her only to see the black-hooded figure.

She couldn’t tell from the mask obscuring their face but was sure they had just given her a wicked smile. The person tutted. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

Marinette let out a soft noise of defiance. Her protest only seemed to amuse them—them? she was pretty sure it was a woman—judging by the small chuckle they let out. They leaned down, and she felt cold hands caress her face, sending shivers down her spine.

The masked face lowered to her level, and a final message left their lips.

“You can thank Red Robin for his assistance.”

There was a yank, and a strange burning sensation coursed through Marinette’s body. She heard the clatter of an object and spotted a metallic glint before the figure stood up. Panic bloomed in her stomach as they walked away, her breathing getting more shallow by the moment.

She pushed aside the pain, choosing to ignore it in favor of turning over those parting words.

You can thank Red Robin for his assistance.

Red Robin. Marinette wanted to laugh at the irony. Stabbed in the back indeed.

Moments before Tim ran into the room, she took her last breath.

Notes:

I left the details of “the incident” purposefully vague so you guys could think of your own turning point for her. Personally, what I imagine is that after Hawkmoth’s defeat, Marinette tried to take the magical punishments in his place. She also combined both Miraculous and tried to unbind the kwamis so they couldn’t be abused again, but there were consequences. The power “corrupted” her and made more violent. She’s still a hero, technically, but rather than saving people she punishes (kills) them for wrongdoings which is why she’s considered a villain.

In case you’re confused about the ending, here’s what happened: I dressed the ambushers in League of Assassins-esque clothing; I actually wrote it with Talia in mind but decided to leave the person unidentified. Essentially, Marinette lost focus when her opponent mentioned her fight with Tim and got stabbed in the back. The person tells her to “thank Red Robin for his assistance.” Marinette interprets this as another betrayal; basically, she thinks Tim willingly helped them kill her by providing them with information on her. This isn’t the case since they actually stole the information from him, but Marinette doesn’t know that. Whether or not the opponent actually meant for her to think she was betrayed is up for interpretation.

I was actually debating between a few endings—I’ll put them here just for funsies. The more angst the better :D

Marinette dies a while after the apartment incident and never actually talks to/meets Tim again

Someone randomly kills her (no mention of “betrayal”)

Tim accidentally kills her

A clone of Tim kills her

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior @enternalempires @freesportspalacesalad

#maribat #celestewrites #timari #timinette #cel's fics

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morganaseren · 4 years ago

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WIP Meme (Warden Inquisitor Niamh/Warden Bethany)

Tagged by: @illusivesoul Many thanks!

Tagging: @this-is-something-idk-what, @noeldressari, @jellydishes, @w-h-4-t As usual, I suck at telling who has or hasn’t been tagged yet.

So this WIP is from prompt #3 I made off this list. It doesn’t tie into the other Warden Niamh/Warden Bethany AU I’ve already written; this is something wholly separate. No knowledge of it is needed to read this.

Granted, this is a much rougher draft than what I’d normally post here, but given I’m already more than a month behind on updating OtSttCA, I thought you guys would appreciate the treat. :)

Things you might want to know:

As with any AU where Niamh is a Warden, she’s the one who undertakes the Dark Ritual with Morrigan in order to spare anyone from being sacrificed once the Archdemon is slain. Through magic, Kieran is born as a result of their union. While both women carry a great deal of respect for one another, they aren’t and were never in a romantic relationship although there’s gonna be a whole separate AU for that once I get around to writing it.

Niamh is the Warden-Constable for Ferelden while her sister Saoirse is the Warden-Commander and Hero of Ferelden. Saoirse and Leliana are married sometime after the end of the Blight.

As a result of going on the Deep Roads expedition with her sister, Bethany contracts the taint and has to undergo the Joining in order to save her life. She is transferred to the Fereldan branch of the Grey Wardens by Stroud not long afterward.

Niamh and Bethany are in an established relationship by the time the events of Inquisition begins.

While Niamh would normally be off searching for the cure by then, I'm just going to headcanon that she and Morrigan weren’t able to find a suitable lead in their research until much later—enough that they start hearing about the mass disappearances of Wardens across Ferelden and Orlais.

Out of concern, Niamh and Saoirse convince the remainder of their comrades (except for Bethany obviously) to head toward Weisshaupt for help, but Niamh senses that's enough wrong about the situation that she also tells them to journey there in secret. Vigil’s Keep is pretty much closed down at this point until they can figure out what’s going on.

Niamh and Bethany head out toward the Hinterlands to follow up on reports of some Warden sightings in the area. It's when they're stopped in the Crossroads area (where you meet Mother Giselle) that Niamh has Bethany to ask the villagers for any leads while she heads up to the Temple of Sacred Ashes to follow up on a tip there. The usual stuff happens, and she ends up waking up in Haven's dungeons, where she gets interrogated by Cassandra.

Honestly, this follows pretty closely to how OtSttCA unfolds as far as the major decisions being made within it goes. However, because she wasn’t in self-exile for a decade, Niamh’s a lot more laidback and confident in her ability to lead, especially with Bethany by her side.

Along that same vein, Bethany is also more self-assured in her abilities as a mage now that she no longer has to fear hiding from Templars. As such, she’s much quicker to speak about what’s on her mind rather than bottle them up as she used to in the past. She confronts Cassandra like an absolute badass several times during the beginning of the story in defense of her lover, which you can check out below the cut with the rest of the content. ;)

Like in her canon world state, Niamh isn't treated well when she’s imprisoned. The guards merely know that she's a mage, so they're operating under the assumption that she caused the explosion at the Conclave. It doesn't help that Niamh's been essentially undercover to search for the missing Wardens, so she's not wearing her usual uniform to signify her status. Cassandra does her whole intimidating interrogation as per usual when Bethany—in all her Warden regalia—bursts in with Leliana.

---

"She leaves with me," she leveled at the Seeker coldly before turning to Leliana with a deep frown. “Why did you not put a stop to this?”

“I arrived here at the same time as you. I didn’t know she was here until she was already imprisoned.”

Niamh couldn't help but chuckle under her breath, utter relief filling her. “I think you may invited utter ruination upon your heads with those two."

Cassandra frowned. "What? Why?"

“What do you mean why?” she parroted with a roll of her eyes, unimpressed with what she had seen of the woman and her colleagues thus far. "Leliana’s my sister-in-law, and the Warden next to her is my fiancée, whom—might I add—you've actually succeeded in making angry.” The corners of her lips turned up into a languid smile. “Not an easy feat, and not a fate I would normally wish upon anyone.”

“Hush,” Bethany muttered as she brushed past Cassandra—all but shoving her aside with a pointed shoulder—as she knelt at Niamh’s side to begin healing the wounds she’d received from her captors. All the soldiers began backing away uneasily, especially as Leliana walked alongside her. “I’m already upset that you sent me down to the Crossroads while you went up to the Conclave alone.”

“It was the easiest way of scoping out the area," Niamh defended even as she sheepishly shrank back beneath her lover’s glare. "If the individuals we were searching for were still down in the village, you would have seen them, and if they were up at the Temple…Well, I suppose that’s a moot point now, given what our new acquaintances have just revealed to me.”

“Do you remember seeing anything at all?” Leliana asked then in concern.

“I can’t recall much of anything before the explosion.” Niamh admitted with a frown. “I thought I remembered someone screaming, but then there’s just... nothing.”

“And...” Leliana gestured toward her hand. “That mark?”

She shrugged as much as she was able to, especially given her heavy shackles. “It certainly wasn’t there when I went to the Temple.”

“What is going on here?” Cassandra demanded then, perhaps confused as to why their supposed prisoner had proven so much more forthcoming with Leliana than anyone else thus far.

“You’ve met my wife before, yes? This is her younger sister Niamh Cousland. She is also the Constable of the Grey here in Ferelden, Cassandra,” Leliana stated gravely. “While the Wardens may not regularly involve themselves in politics, Niamh’s high enough up their chain of command that this country’s branch would fight to the death to get her back, and that’s not even involving what Saoirse herself will do once she finds out her sister's been hurt.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. “Not to mention the Teyrn of Highever…”

---

After the demons upon the frozen lake had been defeated, Niamh felt the brush of a warm hand in the crook of her elbow gently pulling her back before all she could see was Bethany’s back as her lover marched right up toward Cassandra, heedless of the obvious height difference between them.

"Point your sword at her again, Seeker! Kindly test my patience right now, and see what happens!"

Niamh was mildly amused when Cassandra actually appeared to be a bit startled and had to move back a step so as to not accidentally stab the woman. The Seeker’s dark brows furrowed in confusion. "Are... Are you threatening me?"

"Only because you’ve threatened her repeatedly!” Bethany scowled. “Niamh's very life is in danger so long as that portal in the sky exists; she has no reason to put yours in harm's way. She’s made it more than abundantly clear she’s willing to cooperate even after the mistreatment she received from you and your colleagues." Amber eyes narrowed, and despite their bright depths, there was little mistaking the ice within them. "I haven’t, however, and I’ve no reason to if you’re going to blatantly ignore your own words to the contrary simply because she’s a mage."

Cassandra sheepishly sheathed her weapon. "I’m—"

"If you ever think of drawing a sword on her again, your friendship with Leliana or no, I swear it will be the last time you ever draw breath," Bethany spat, tilting her chin up defiantly. "I’ve lost enough. I will not lose her too." She turned then to hold out her hand for Niamh, allowing the first bit of tenderness to enter her expression as she called out to her. "My love..."

Niamh chuckled quietly even as she weaved her fingers through Bethany’s. “Still so quick to defend me?”

Her lover smiled. “Always.”

Afterward, Cassandra was left to follow behind the two women, who proceeded to lead the rest of the way up the mountain.

"I did tell you not to make her angry," Niamh quipped to Cassandra later upon reaching the first outpost, grinning when she earned a soft sound of disgruntlement.

---

Nothing had really prepared Bethany for the sight that greeted them upon reaching the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

There were so many bodies scattered across the immense crater, expressions twisted in permanent states of terror as they tried to guard themselves against a danger beyond all earthly imagining. Horrified with such evidence of the Breach’s power, it was then that she realized that if Niamh hadn’t somehow received the Mark, she likely would have—

"Bethany?"

She jerked in place, turning to see her lover’s concerned eyes watching her.

"It's nothing,” she mustered up with a weak smile. “I'm right behind you."

Bethany saw, however, that Niamh couldn’t be convinced, as was evident in the tender way the other woman had taken hold of her hand. Niamh said nothing else, as was always her way. She never pressed her to offer anything more than she was ready for. She sighed.

"I should have been there with you," Bethany murmured at last, looking at the strange mark still glowing upon her lover’s palm. It was nothing that even with all her healing magic can hope to fix, but Niamh merely shook her head.

"No.” She brought Bethany’s hand up to her lips to press a kiss reverently across her knuckles. “Were you there with me, I fear you would have died with everyone else," she admitted solemnly. "My heart would not have survived such devastation."

---

Bethany was beside herself with worry when Niamh fell unconscious upon the first, unsuccessful attempt to seal the Breach. Niamh was brought back to Haven to recover, but Bethany refused to leave her side despite Leliana's attempts to get her to take care of herself as well.

"Bethany—"

"You know as well as I do that your colleagues would have killed her down in the dungeons if we hadn’t arrived when we did," Bethany said flatly from where she sat by Niamh’s bedside. "Everyone in the village knows she’s a mage now, and I don’t need to remind you of how well-liked we are on a regular basis..."

"I’ll have my agents watching her. What nearly happened outside the chantry will never happen again."

Bethany bristled instantly at the memory.

---

She’d still been inside the building to relay some information regarding Saoirse to Leliana when they heard the first outraged cries beyond the doors. As the uproar grew louder in volume—all demanding the death of the one who had supposedly killed the Divine—Bethany had rushed outside immediately just in time to see civilians and more than a few soldiers attempting to stone Niamh.

Infuriated by the blatant injustice, Bethany reached over her shoulder for her staff and immediately slammed its point into the ground. At the moment of impact, a wave of force magic traveled violently across the ground, taking the mob entirely off their feet. She had been mindful to curve the energy away from Niamh—and inadvertently Cassandra, who had sidled up to aid the other mage, just as she unleashed her magic—so her lover had remained unharmed and even grateful for her arrival if her relieved smile was any indication.

Still, Bethany steeled her features to utter impassivity as she coolly strode through the crowd. Those within it seemed to be in various states of bewilderment as they tried to regain their bearings, but she took note of the many widened eyes that recognized the blues and silvers of her Warden regalia.

“You will show Ferelden’s Constable of the Grey the proper respect she is due,” Bethany said lowly as she placed herself alongside her lover, her gaze searching for any signs of rebellion to her words. “Anyone who would dare accost her in spite of her title will sorely live to regret it...”

---

"Can you really make such promises?" Bethany asked dryly.

"I can certainly try. Niamh’s family. Saoirse would never forgive me if something happened to her, especially if she knew there was anything I could have done to prevent it." She sighed. "Nor would I be able to forgive myself for that matter. Niamh’s a kind woman, and much like you—and any mage—she’s so undeserving of the treatment she often receives from others.”

---

Anyone who knows me knows that I LOVE mages; thus, it should come as no surprise that I always go to get the mages at Redcliffe as allies.

It should also go without saying that Bethany also would have gone with Niamh to deal with Alexius and the Venatori. Per the events of In Hushed Whispers, it's canon that the companions who went with you there become prisoners in the twisted, future version of Redcliffe.

While Warden mages are more susceptible to Corypheus' influence, I headcanon that Bethany was so furious with the loss of Niamh to Alexius that she fought against the mind control even to the point of torture like Leliana. When Niamh sees her in the future, Bethany's so pained, broken, and exhausted but so very thankful to see her lover again.

There's hope again—no matter how small—and Bethany's determined to help her set the world right again.

What little happiness they have at their reunion obviously doesn't last long, especially with Alexius’ death. With the Elder One beckoning at their door, Bethany goes off with the other companions to stall the demons and Venatori outside to give Dorian time to cast his spell.

I’ve always headcanoned that mages have auras unique to the type of magic they specialize in and that they’d be able to subtly influence the world around them based on their emotions. You see evidence of that a lot in OtSttCA, especially in those moments where Niamh’s angry or upset.

In any case, per my headcanon, mages would be able to sense one another although the distance at which they could detect such magic would be dependent on the senser’s overall power or their relationship with the other mage. As close as both women are, Niamh absolutely feels the moment Bethany dies... :(

---

She felt the absence of Bethany’s magic like a dagger to the heart.

It had been there, burning as bright as the sun, and then it had stuttered—dark clouds eclipsing its light—until it simply settled inside her like a dead weight. Left bereft of that familiar, constant presence that had been her very reason for breathing for so long, it was as if water had pooled into her lungs, threatening to drown her. The sensation immediately brought her to her knees, leaving her gasping for breath.

"No..." Niamh whispered out brokenly, anguish and horror overtaking her even as Leliana tried in vain to urge her back up to her feet again. She couldn't hear the other woman's concern past the shattering of her own heart. In its place was simply an aching emptiness that slowly began to consume her whole...

---

Let’s just say that Niamh’s not happy with Alexius when she and Dorian manage to return to the present...

---

The fighting between the Inquisition and rebel mages against Alexius and his Venatori was brought to an abrupt halt by the presence of the Fade rift that appeared overhead. The force with which it easily tore space and reality asunder was enough to take everyone within the audience chamber off their feet, especially as stifling heat and wind spilled from the portal along with two figures.

“Give her back..."

Bethany blearily looked up when she heard Niamh’s familiar voice, and relief filled her when she saw that she was standing beneath the now sealed rift. Even with its disappearance, however, she realized all too soon that it had done nothing to quell the storm that had now taken residence within the room, sending banners and tapestries flying with whipping gusts of wind. At its center was her lover, who was standing so still amidst the chaos around her, regarding Alexius with such apathy in her expression.

“What?" the old magister uttered in confusion, shakily rising to his feet only to have his progress nearly undone as lightning struck the ground next to him with a deafening peal of thunder.

Bethany saw how his throat undulated as he swallowed in nervous regard of the mage slowly making her way toward him. His fingers trembled with the effort to form flames between them.

"...Who gave you the right?” Niamh asked, voice as low as the rumbling thunder, as she strode toward the dais.

The pressure within the room escalated once more as an aura of absolute fire surrounded her. Like vines, they rose from the floor up in spiraling patterns before enveloping her entirely with almost playful licks of flame. Nothing in Niamh’s expression indicated the display of power was in any way exhausting to maintain whereas Alexius was already weakened from his initial spell to destroy her along with his efforts to keep the Inquisition at bay.

But it was not a woman who sought to meet him.

It was death.

As if aware of the sudden danger he was in, Alexius threw forth several barrages of fire at Niamh, but her smooth, relentless advance couldn’t be stopped. She made no attempt to even bat away the bursts of magic. If anything, the flames just seemed to absorb themselves into her. Her aura flared higher, burning more brightly beneath each attack, and as Alexius tried to back away, he inadvertently tripped himself into the throne behind him. He flinched as another peal of thunder made itself known, and as he reflexively turned his gaze to the dark storm clouds coalescing above them, he didn't see Niamh Fade-stepping forward to close the distance between them until he was choking from the fingers around his neck. With her enhanced Warden strength, Niamh was able to lift the magister off his feet entirely, leaving him to dangle helplessly.

“Who gave you the damned right to take her from me?!” she demanded.

With her cry, the fires along the sconces and the hearth behind the throne went out entirely, gone with the sudden gale of wind. As such, the only light to be seen came from the flashes of lightning above them and the fiery aura surrounding her. In the sporadic moments the room illuminated itself, there was little mistaking the utter hatred in Niamh’s eyes.

She was going to kill Alexius.

It would have been well within her right, given the magister had attacked her first within their meeting, but Bethany’s eyes widened when she saw how the staff on Niamh’s back began to rattle violently. Against the sheer heat emanating from her body, the silverite wolf head adorning the top of the staff began to melt entirely onto the floor in thick dregs of liquid while the shaft bowed and arched until it creakily bent in the middle, angling itself with the sharpness of an arrow.

Oh, no... With dread, Bethany scrambled to her feet and darted over toward Niamh. Without her staff to act as a catalyst, if Niamh burnt too much of her magic away, she could cause irreparable damage to herself and those around her.

Upon reaching her lover’s side, she placed her hands on Niamh’s face, desperately trying to draw her attention from Alexius. For a moment, nothing could sway her from trying to squeeze the life out of the magister, and she winced when she felt Niamh’s magic already begin to fluctuate erratically against her own.

"No, no, no! Look at me!” She jerked her lover’s head toward her. “Look at me, Niamh! Please!"

And as Niamh did, she watched in confusion as the woman’s expression froze. The lips that had been pulled back in a sneer of bared teeth slowly went lax, forming an ‘o’ of awe and disbelief, as recognition began to dawn in her lover’s gaze. With it, Alexius gradually slid from her grasp to collapse at her feet with desperate gulps of air, but Bethany paid him little mind. With relief, she saw Niamh’s fiery aura dissipate along with the glow of her eyes until they returned to the pale grey she adored.

"That’s it. Come back to me,” she encouraged. “Just breathe." Bethany took one of her lover’s hands in hers, placing it over her own chest, allowing Niamh to feel her breathing. “Slow and steady. Just like that.”

As each breath fell into sync with her own, Niamh's expression gradually softened into something so reverent and sweet that it almost hurt to see—as if salvation had finally blessed her—but Bethany smiled when she saw the battle rage finally leave her.

“There we are."

Niamh used her other hand to gently cradle the side of Bethany's face. “You’re still here…” she breathed, utter relief in her voice.

“Yes.” Bethany frowned in concern at her reaction. “Always."

---

When they returned to Haven, where Niamh gave her official report to her War Council, Bethany was horrified to learn all that her lover had endured from Alexius’ spell.

Afterward, Niamh suggested they spend the evening in their cabin together rather than explore the trails out the village as per usual, and Bethany didn’t object. She understood her lover’s need to reassure herself that she was still there with her—that she wasn’t simply caught in a dream that she could never wake from.

“Is... Is this okay?” Niamh asked quietly, wanting permission to seek such comfort.

Niamh was always thoughtful in everything she did for her—in bed or otherwise—and while she never treated her like glass, Bethany could count on one hand the number of times she saw her magic unfettered like in Redcliffe. She had felt subtle traces of it occasionally with their intimacy although it was usually with purposeful design—heat, ice, and tickling traces of lightning—that were meant to tease.

But rarely was it ever so close to the surface like this—a conduit of power coiled so tightly within mortal form—waiting to burst beneath Niamh’s skin.

“It’s okay,” Bethany said, gently lacing the fingers of Niamh’s marked hand in hers.

The other woman had been reluctant to let her touch it although it hadn’t shown any notable effects toward anyone—or anything thus far—save for its ability to close rifts. Still, Niamh had been skittish all the same, fearing that it might harm her.

...Or perhaps she believed it was a damning mark of shame—of guilt—much like it had been when the people of Haven had attempted to stone her to death.

---

“There’s no denying that this mark is tied to the Breach. You saw the wreckage at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. You saw how many people died, and I still can’t even remember what happened before or after that moment beyond waking up in the dungeons. What if I did do something to cause that explosion?”

“If you had, it would not have been intentional,” Bethany insisted with a frown. “The mark is unlike anything we’ve ever seen, yes, but that you bear it all does not mean you were the one who created it.”

But Niamh couldn’t be swayed as she paced back and forth before the hearth of their cabin. “How can you be so certain?” she murmured.

“Because I’ve known you for years, Niamh. You would never purposely hurt anyone without provocation. Trust in me if you can’t yet trust in yourself.”

---

With permission given, Bethany found herself gently laid out against their bed as Niamh sought to touch and bring her pleasure all throughout the night.

Over the years, she’d become remarkably acclimated to Niamh’s magic that felt so much like a forest caught beneath a winter storm of ice and lightning. It was normally as calm as it was now—crisp as the first intake of breath beneath a cool dawn—but there were times where it could be provoked. The incident in the audience chamber was proof enough of that, where it had settled over them all like the tolling bells of judgment—an inevitability inviting the nascent danger of death.

Bethany had been beyond concerned when she had seen the first bits of viridian energy springing across her lover’s eyes then. There had been an almost disturbing beauty to them—a ring of vines gathering just at the outside perimeter of silvery irises—but that they had pulsed in time with the mark upon Niamh’s hand...

Bethany had feared for her, especially when it seemed to flare all the brighter with the fury that had overtaken her.

She was glad to see no evidence of that now as Niamh laid contentedly next to her. Even though Niamh was sated at last—the burning, restless energy within the other mage having finally simmered down to faint embers—she seemed reluctant to drift off into sleep. Winter-grey eyes continued to lazily rove across her face and form, as if cataloguing every detail less she forget later.

In response, Bethany reached out to tangle her fingers through the dark mane of tousled hair, letting her nails gently rake across her lover’s scalp. Pale eyes had widened imperceptibly at the sensation, but like always, they soon became half-lidded with the soothing nature of it. She heard the quiet hum of disgruntlement, as if protesting the notion of Bethany’s attempts to lull her to sleep against her silent vigil, but she merely shushed her.

“Shh… Rest, my love. I’ll still be here in the morning when you wake.”

---

And that’s basically it.

Again, since this is still in its rough draft phase, it’s not as polished as I’d like it to be, but I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, leave me a like, comment, or send some love to my inbox! Until next time, dear readers!

#Dragon Age: Inquisition #bethany hawke #female warden/bethany hawke #fanfic #My writing #OTP: In Search of Silver Linings #lee's au ideas #female cousland/bethany hawke

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caescloud · 4 years ago

Note

How about some shiggy fluff with a reader that has an emotion reading quirk and she just sees how broken he is and wants to help him and he’s just like ???? What’s this? Human decency? Tomura.exe has stopped working

Anon, I almost leapt out of my chair when I got your ask because not only is your brain huge, you made me think of my oc who has pathokinesis for a quirk! So thank you for an awesome prompt, I’ll do my best to explore this topic! There are some liberties I’m taking so let me know if this is slightly out of the scope of what you wanted the power to be portrayed as, I can adjust it. And I went with two routes for this one, hope that’s alright! Also, spoilers for the content covered up until about chapter 246!

Emotion/Empathy Quirk!Reader x Shigaraki, Fluff Hcs

As someone with a quirk that allows you to literally emphasize with other people, it’s hard to ignore those who are in distress. As a member of the League, you regularly are among companions whose more negative emotions you pick up on. Shigaraki is no exception to this. For all he does to mask his feelings, be it out of repressing his deepest memories or simply not willing to let himself feel the more somber emotions, Shigaraki has his days.

Approaching Shigaraki when you sense this emotional shift in him may play out depending on how close you two are. I feel that either way, he will be wary of someone who can instantly know the extent of what he’s feeling without knowing the context- it’s this perception he has of being “seen” and vulnerable, but not on his own terms. For this reason I wouldn’t recommend opening anything major; start small, a simple “I noticed you’ve been off, I’m here to listen if you need it.” (The second set of hcs are more fluffy than the first, I swear! )

If you’re not as close yet:

“Your vibes are off my guy” /j

You likely noticed his mood around when you first met him, the childish glee at the prospect of carrying out villainous schemes, the apathy felt for society, the frustration when things went awry, and this...undercurrent of intensely negative energy.

Your intentions are truly straightforward when you discover him

Had you not had the quirk you had, you likely would have missed the sudden “peak” of distress one night. Shigaraki experienced a rather nasty nightmare that sent him for a bit of an inner spiral. The LOV base was small enough that you could sense him despite being in separate rooms, the feelings of fright and melancholy were too palpable for you to ignore. You could sense when emotional activity subsides when people are asleep but Shigaraki didn’t seem to fall back asleep that night. You had difficulty yourself and made a note to confront him in the morning, when he’d likely be moving around while the others wouldn’t.

Shigaraki is aware of your quirk and how it works; he is the leader who is responsible for knowing key information regarding subordinates. What he didn’t expect, and may have subconsciously hoped you wouldn’t do, is “pry” into him after an episode.

SO in addition to that plus being in a sour mood that following morning, he may be more snappy and curt when you approach him. He doesn’t feel it’s your business nor something you should be spending energy on. He’s not really in a headspace to discuss what he dreamt about or exactly know how to put it into words; he’d likely tell you to move on because that’s what he’s doing.

Ball is in your court at this point; sticking around him may not be the best move unless you’re going to be quiet while he soothes his thoughts on his own; having anyone around him may be more of irritation/distraction than a comforting presence. If you do try to get him to keep talking, he’s gonna flat out leave the bar in a bit of a huff to blow off steam. If you leave yourself, best not to do so in a way that makes it seem like you’re mad at him? It’s not that he’s really concerned with how you’re feeling per se, this is more of a long-term behavior. Calmly letting him know you will respect his boundaries and telling him you’ll be around let’s him know that you’re a mature enough individual which is pretty big for him. Even if he doesn’t remark on it then and there; he’s all about those little details when it comes to people.

Even if at this moment he doesn’t especially appreciate “someone nosing around” in his head, he can’t completely ignore your intentions. You’re not on thin ice, but he’s gonna maintain a bit of a guard around you until there’s more trust solidified. After all, he can’t be scaring off competent allies like you when he needs ‘em this early on.

If there is trust/a relationship between you two:

You two have a much better rapport with each other this time around. Between fighting alongside each other, going through shared struggles and trials, those rare late-night chats you’ve had, Tomura and you are far closer now than ever before.

You are a valuable ally of his and someone who he lowered his walls down ever so slightly more for. As mentioned above, the fact you respected his boundaries early on while maintaining your welcoming presence has served you well in this area. If it’s you asking him about his troubles, that’s okay. You’ve seen him at some pretty harsh lows and still stayed by him and everyone.

Heck, even prior to this, you’ve already begun to notice a change in Tomura and how he’s been acting since the Kamino incident. Showing his face and apparent care for the LOV will also likely factor into him feeling more comfortable around you as well. After losing AFO and Kurogiri, this point stands even stronger. The league is his family, you’re a part of that too of course. But out of everyone, there’s a unique bond between the two of you.

So when you approach him as a result of the impossible to ignore feelings of turmoil, not that he’s outwardly showing this, you do so with the same, genuine concern you held the first time this happened. This is someone who you’ve gotten to understand hasn’t had much of a break when it comes to basic human kindness in most of his life. And he is also someone you truly care for, no strings attached. (Hard not to when you’ve been exposed to his innermost feelings after all.)

He’s clearly trying to hold himself together in the aftermath of Kamino; he seems to be clutching desperately onto himself as a way to ground. The loss of AFO and Kurogiri is taking its mental toll and while the others have opted to give him space, you chose to go to him; hopeful of any comfort you could give in order to soothe the ferocious panic and frustration sweeping over his mind.

Once again you offer him your ear, a shoulder, your words if he’d rather listen to someone else talk instead to take his mind off. He doesn’t brush you off this time but also doesn’t say too much. He stares very intensely at you, searching for a trace of judgement or gratuitous pity and finding none. Despite everything, you two fall into a comfortable silence, that hand you’ve placed on his shoulder acting as an anchor.

The next time this happens is after the battle with the MLA

The base you’re in is more lavish, fitted with more space and rooms for it’s members to reside in. However, you’re still able to sense Tomura’s emotions go completely haywire. The intense loneliness, fright, anger, and sadness crash into you and pull you under.

You don’t realize you’re moving until you’re outside his door, softly calling his name, sensing he’s alert and awake now. You almost feel this will play out as it did nearly a year ago until the door slowly creaked open, a single red eye gazing right through you. You’re about to speak when he reaches for you and pulls you in.

Huh. This is the first time he’s literally reached out for you, a fleeting thought. It’s dark and you’re unable to see him, but you feel the slight tremor wracking his frame and grip. You’re thankful it’s as dark as it is because you don’t want him to see your tears; whenever someone is feeling as badly as he is at the moment, your quirk can have the impact of flooding your emotions, especially if your control is not at its peak.

“Tomura, I’m here for you. I’m ready to help, tell me what I can do,” you muster in your most soothing and level voice, masking your outward emotions well. He is still wordless but moves you and him over to where his bed is, guiding you both down onto the mattress. A low sigh leaves his lungs as he tries to compose himself, grip still around your wrist. You feel your way over to the hand that’s holding you, carefully maneuvering the fingers off and transferring his hand properly into both of yours. You work mindless patterns and pressures over the appendage, further trying to physically calm him.

It starts with an utterance of the words “bad dream, family, my sister-”. He doesn’t go into very descriptive detail but with the way he’s feeling and how he’s speaking, you know it’s nothing pleasant. “They’re gone, it’s done. So why do I still...have these ridiculous visions of them?”

Your heart has ached hearing the way he talks; whether he realizes the extent of his words, when he talks about others and himself or his past, you feel compelled to be open with him.

What happens next almost shatters your heart because he asks you not to go. He’s done talking about his dreams and the past, his fingers are itching to go at this neck, and he’s just tired. When you pull him into your embrace, him mindful of where his hands fall, he surprisingly accepts it.

You’ve got him and you’re not letting go, gently smoothing over his hair to further placate him. He’s definitely feeling better than when you’ve found him. You only begin to drift off when you feel him truly calm down and go limp in your arms. No one dares to say anything the next morning when the future king has skipped out on a meeting.

He’s not going to say this out loud but he is truly grateful you treated his emotions with the care he didn’t realize they needed from someone like you.

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki hcs #imagines #tenko shimura #fluff #sfw

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drxwsyni · 4 years ago

Text

Tell Me What You’re Thinking (pt.1/2)

Yandere merman!Shinsou Hitoshi x gn!Reader

Summary: Studying abroad on a remote tropical island, a life threatening event prompts a certain merman to come to your rescue. Coincidence or not, the meeting results in his intentions being set in stone.

All characters are aged up (18+).

Warnings for this part: drowning, injury, swearing, suggestions of poor parenting

Words: 6.8k+

a/n: This fic is my entry for @bnhabookclub‘s Mermay event! It’s not my usual style but I tried my best―definitely need to practice different au’s. For context Shinsou can still use his quirk, he’s just also a merman at the same time. That and he’s a soft yandere for the most part. Hope you enjoy!

Prompts: 13. “It’s all right. Come here.” 7. “It’s really not that complicated (used in the second part).”

_____

The path of least resistance proved to be quite useful in the recent years.

It wouldn’t be your first option under ideal circumstances, but such a thing wasn’t currently present in your life anyways. Occasionally it would grace your day to day living, but for the most part passing occurrences tended to be on the less enjoyable side.

Whether you should be grateful or not was beyond you, but in this unchanging routine you managed to grow accustomed to things. It lead you into a complacency of sorts―not preferring it in any manner, but still having the understanding that sometimes it was easier to let the world dictate your actions for you.

And right now, this complacency had earned you the opportunity for travel.

Specifically, an offer to study abroad to work on a take home final for your university class. Four weeks on a remote tropical island with your fellow students and accompanying professors. Done with intentions to gather otherwise unobtainable first-hand experience and, more importantly, data that would significantly improve your final grade―only if you managed your time wisely.

The opportunity was impossible to pass up.

You weren’t the biggest fan of flying, or boating―really anything that had you leaving the comfort of land. But as usual these bothers weren’t considered when you were being so heavily advised to pack your things and take advantage of the ‘once in a lifetime opportunity.’

Sometimes you tried making an attempt to discern what warranted such treatment being placed upon you. Not once could you seem to recall any one event that may have ended with the conclusion that it was acceptable for you to be handled in such a manner. To have your limits disregarded so thoughtlessly.

Maybe it was because the limits in question were more so mental in nature. They weren’t outwardly observable, and so it made it acceptable.

Of course, you knew that wasn’t the truth.

But with this perhaps you could catch a break from the pressures of your loved ones. If you did well enough in your studies, they might just tone down their expectations enough to give you the room to decide something for yourself.

It was settled―you would once again take the plunge into semi-uncertainty. Mostly for the sake of others, and only marginally to satiate your need for freedom.

You’d been on the island for a little over a week, and in that time you’d managed to scope out the perfect spot for collecting the samples you needed for your paper.

It was secluded―a rocky area that was just slightly raised from the sea level that was home to multiple small ocean pools. They were filled with very particular types of marine life. Ones that you had chosen to focus on after hearing just where you’d be travelling to. In the ecosystem you found yourself in the possibilities for research were quite extensive. There may have been less taxing options, ones that didn’t lead you to the ends of the island all by yourself. But those wouldn’t earn you the validation you desired.

So instead you came to terms with your situation as usual and gathered up your equipment for the journey. Almost every day just an hour after dinner you would head to the rocky expanse of the seemingly endless beach. The weather was comfortable, a light breeze to stave off the heat with the sun not close enough to the horizon for it to be getting too dark, but low enough to begin emitting the intricate display of warm coloured clouds drifting slowly above.

In the moments where you simply sat and took in your surroundings, the thought came to mind that perhaps you would be able to focus on something that wasn’t directly related to the pressure you were under to succeed. If these were the conditions, the clarity that came along with relaxation might be possible.

For now however, you needed to be focused on what you truly came here for.

It was roughly quarter after six in the evening. You had set your backpack down on a rock that was raised above the pools of water and used the rest of the free surface as a makeshift table. On it you placed a clean sample jar with the lid popped off in wait for the contents that you were currently fishing around for.

If there was one thing being pressured into studying was good for, it was having the image of what you were looking for committed to memory.

It was nothing special, just a remnant of the marine life that took up residence in the little pools you were currently crouched in front of. You carefully extracted the sample out of the water, placing it in the little container.

Part of you should be proud of what you were doing. University classes weren’t always the easiest. Your course was just as difficult as any other―disregarding the fact that you probably wouldn’t have gone into it if it weren’t for the ‘advice’ of your family. The research you were currently conducting was more than satisfactory.

Yet, as you looked at the now filled sample container, part of you couldn’t help but want to accomplish more. You didn’t need to―your pace so far was good for what you were trying to get done in the time you were given on the island. But it was second nature to want to perform above satisfactory expectations.

You knew that the area you were in was home to a certain species of coral that would greatly improve the chances of you earning a better GPA. Based on where you were, it would take a small swim just off the shoreline to reach its natural habitat.

Doing a cost-benefit analysis, you decided that it was worth the brief struggle. It was likely that the coral wouldn’t be too far underwater, meaning you wouldn’t require any special diving equipment. You were already wearing a bathing suit, and before leaving had packed a belt bag that could be worn underwater should you need to bring any sample collection gear with you while swimming.

Technically, you should be asking for help when it came to something like this. There was a certain danger to it―being in the ocean by yourself. If you knew any better then maybe you would’ve asked for assistance. However, it simply wasn’t in your nature to do so.

There was always a resistance in your mind when you wanted to work with others. An anxiety of sorts. Time and time again had you tried to overcome it, and each instance had you failing. Now was no different.

Your bag was strapped securely to your body, pulled tight so it didn’t shift around too much in the water. Without the ability to force yourself to go back to the cabins and request a second set of hands, there was quite literally nothing holding you back.

The ocean water was startlingly icy as you let it submerge your lower limbs. The feeling wasn’t pleasant, but it was temporary. You’d be quick―collect the sample and then gratefully retreat to the warmth of dry clothes and eventually the soft bed in your assigned room back inland.

Gradually, the frigid liquid crept up your body as you waded forward. Shivering slightly at the sensation, you willed your mind to ignore the uncomfortableness. And thankfully enough, after spending a few minutes with the water at neck-level, you became more accustomed to the sensation.

The easy part was over.

Pushing off from the sandy ocean floor underneath, you swam away from the coast. It was only roughly ten or fifteen feet away, but already you were having problems seeing the earth below. The sight was unsettling, to say the least.

What it did mean however was that you should be in the perfect spot where the coral you were hunting for could be found. It wasn’t rare or anything―you should be able to see it no problem. But you had to go underwater first before that was possible.

For a moment you hesitated. You weren’t exactly afraid of the ocean, but the concept of such a vast unexplored space wasn’t exactly comforting. Sure, you weren’t in any sort of area that was frighteningly undiscovered, but the thought that such a thing did exist didn’t help in calming your nerves.

But you digress―the take home final was more important than any passing worries over your predicament.

The feeling of being so completely engulfed in the water sent a shock through your system. So much so that you had to resurface for a few seconds to get your bearings. Once you’d settled down once again, you plunged yourself underneath the water. Only after a second or two of swimming further below the surface and you had come face to face with your target. You went back up for a breath and to extract a sample bottle from your bag.

It was then you took notice of the particularly strong winds that had picked up since you entered the ocean.

They wouldn’t have been a problem if it weren’t for the waves it was forming under its influence. Small at first, but in the distance you could see them forming as well. Meaning that by the time they reached your position they would be bigger―much bigger.

But they were still far away. You had time.

With a little more haste you maneuvered yourself under the water until you were able to grasp the cluster of raised rock littered with marine plant life to steady yourself. Holding your breath, you tried working the coral off its hinges with a gloved hand.

It would seem coral was much stronger than you once thought.

The sturdy and jagged material was proving difficult to remove from the rocks it stuck to, and you were running out of air. The concept of having to make more than one trip under the surface wasn’t ideal, but your lung capacity wouldn’t support otherwise.

With rushed movements you emerged from the water, sucking in deep breaths of relieving oxygen.

But that was short lived.

It would seem the waves were moving faster than initially perceived. Now they were forceful enough that one sent you plummeting back under the salt water.

You couldn’t make heads or tails of which direction you were facing. The current of the waves was jostling your body in every way imaginable. Limbs flailing, you tried desperately to steady yourself. Yet you were no match for the strength of the ocean, and there was nothing in reach to hold on to.

For a moment of brief reprieve you were pulled back above the violent waves. Lungs already slightly filled with water, you sputtered into a coughing fit. Your eyes were frantic as they searched the shoreline, but there was nobody to help you.

If only you weren’t cowardly enough to have gone back and requested assistance in your now failed expedition.

Another wave collided harshly against your body, this time with much more power. It caught you off guard and in the middle of gasping for air. The final half of your breath was cut short, oxygen replaced with the frigid ocean water.

It burned. Your lungs couldn’t handle the intrusion, reflexively demanding another response of inhalation. If it weren’t for the already present liquid, tears would’ve been seen running heavily down your cheeks.

You couldn’t breath.

The current made you sway violently, pushing you deeper into the depths. Finally you collided with something, but the relief was short lived.

Sure, you were able to steady yourself, but now there was a more pressing issue.

A loose strap that was meant to tighten your belt bag had been caught on the jagged edges of the rock. Somehow tangled or wedged between the surface―it held you down under the crashing waves above.

The effects of the storm was causing your limbs to scrape painfully against the rock and coral with each sway of the current. Your lungs were filled, heart pounding against your ribcage.

Was this how you died?

Your mind was racing with a slew of thoughts all pertaining to potential escape plans.

But there were none. You couldn’t free yourself, and even if you did the storm would only pull you back under.

You choked aggressively on the water, body unnaturally convulsing. Black spots were forming in your vision as you registered that there was nothing stopping you from losing consciousness.

In a last ditch effort you tried pulling at the buckle that was holding the bag to your chest. Your luck only got worse―it was somehow stuck and would not unlatch.

Your last moments of struggling were futile. No matter what you did, or how hard you fought, you were going to drown.

As your mind slowly drifted into unconsciousness, your eyes just barely registered the thrashing waters around you. And yet, just before you succumbed to the darkness, you could’ve sworn something in the water caught the light, almost reflecting it. Whatever it was, it seemed to be quite large.

But that’s all you could comprehend―body going limp, along with your ability to stay awake any longer.

_____

The feeling of a hard surface underneath you was the first thing your brain identified. After your eyes opened, it was the sensation of some form of fleece blanketing your body.

You could still smell the ocean―hear it too. A sharp pain shot through your neck and spine as you forced yourself into a sitting position.

A cave.

There were no exits, at least not ones you could get to on foot. But you could swim.

To your right was a pool of water, and just vaguely you could see light shining through an underwater tunnel. Even then it was just barely there, meaning it had been quite some time since you blacked out, the sun likely setting for the night.

Oh right...you drowned.

The memories came flooding back. You ripped off the blanket, revealing an almost even more shocking sight. Your limbs, mainly your legs and a few patches on your arms, had been wrapped and padded with...seaweed?

That was most definitely not on your body before. Arriving fully to attention, a wave of panic came over you.

How did you get here? Why was there seaweed coating parts of your body? And most importantly―how on earth were you not dead?

Experimentally, you reached for a piece of plant life that was stuck to your skin. It was clear someone placed it there, and likely placed you in the cave, but who?

Peeling off the slimy layer revealed some equally alarming information. It wasn’t obvious when it was hidden, but now you could see the rough scrapes and cuts that littered your legs. The wounds didn’t hurt, but they didn’t feel comfortable either. There was some form of slimy substance coating it, which thoroughly grossed you out. In fact, the whole thing grossed you out.

Your body practically acted on its own, fueled by the feeling of disgust and unsettling anxiety. One after the other you ripped the seaweed from your limbs, exposing more gashes and marred flesh under each application.

You had no clue how you ended up in the cave, and if that wasn’t enough to disturb you, someone had put their hands all over your body to encase you in the questionable greenery while you were out.

One thing was for sure―you needed to get the fuck out of here.

Looking around, you figured it was worth giving the cave a once over in case there were any escapes that didn’t involve you blindly swimming through an airless underwater tunnel. And as you scanned the room you found there were still no alternatives. What you did pick up on though was the almost lived in aspect of the cave.

Somehow the stone walls were receded in parts above the water. They were like makeshift shelves, and in the crevices held an array of miscellaneous items. One spot seemed to be designated for various jars and tubs. Some were filled with unrecognizable substances, while others had equally foreign objects floating in semi clear liquid.

Eyes shifting to another display, you landed on a collection of trinkets. Mostly in the form of jewelry―a few rings, necklaces, even what looked to be a fairly expensive watch.

Someone was living here. It was good news. It meant that you should be able to swim out to safety in one breath.

You’d spent enough time taking in your surroundings. It was time to leave and hopefully never have to experience something like this again.

Yet, as you tried standing up, the pain of your injuries seem to catch up with you. To be fair you weren’t expecting it, so you didn’t feel entirely ashamed for falling right back onto the cold and slightly sandy rock. It was almost laughable―how you were foolish enough to land yourself in this predicament.

And in that distracted mindspace you managed to calm your nerves slightly, but it also drew your attention away from the pool of water that you should be plunging into for escape. You didn’t want to wait to find out who brought you here, but it was too late for that now.

Just as you mustered up the strength to pull yourself to the water’s edge, your eyes landed on something moving beneath the rippling surface. Something big.

And it was getting closer.

Frantically, you scrambled back a few feet from whatever was in the body of ocean water. Not a moment later and the thing had made its way to the surface.

It emerged―a man.

No.

There was a tail.

There was...a tail?

“Are you alright?”

And the creature spoke.

Peculiar was an understatement. The top half―its human half―looked normal. The man had deep indigo coloured hair, face sporting some impressive eye-bags. His voice sounded human enough―on the lower side but nonetheless indisputably ordinary.

However from what you could see from your position, the lower part of his body was entirely inhuman. Straight out of a mythology book―he had a long, scaly looking fish tail that was coloured the same as his hair―except it was shimmery, maybe even iridescent.

What on earth were you supposed to say in a situation like this?

He must’ve caught on to your speechlessness, judging the unmoving expression of shock on your face. “I found you trapped underneath the current. Your bag was tangled in some coral so I had to cut you out of it.”

Looking down, you saw that he was correct―your belt bag was missing.

Apparently he wasn’t done with his speech, “I brought you back here to take care of your injuries but―why did you remove the bandages?” You watched as his confused eyes scanned your form, taking in the exposed cuts and bruises that painted your delicate skin.

You said the first thing that came to mind. “Where am I?”

Without missing a beat, he responded. “My home. Why did you remove the bandages?”

...Is that really what he’s worried about right now?

Forming words proved to be a difficult task when you were suffering from a shock to your once perceived reality. Surely you were dreaming. There was no way a fish...man, was talking to you right now. Right?

“I just―I didn’t know what it was. So I...took it off?” You were hoping that you’d wake up any moment now. But as time drew on that wish seemed to grow less likely to come true.

Reality didn’t matter―you needed to know. “Are you like a...mermaid, or something?”

Eyebrows slightly furrowed in what looked to be annoyance, the man responded. “Merman, actually.”

It was like this was just another regular occurrence for the merman. He acted completely unfazed by you discovering his existence, whether he felt different about it mentally or not.

“Okay, so why didn’t you just bring me back to the shore?” You prided yourself in not stuttering over your words despite your brain doing mental gymnastics trying to comprehend the situation.

He shifted in the water a bit, resting his hands on the stone where the water and dry earth met. “You were bleeding too much. If I brought you back to the beach you may have died from it. And even if you didn’t the storm was too rough―you would’ve been swept back out into the ocean.”

The events were discussed so matter-of-factly that it disregarded just how much danger you were in. It baffled you how he managed to stop the bleeding. Actually, you weren’t even sure where the bleeding would’ve been coming from. Looking over your wounds, none of them seemed to go deep enough to require such attention. If anything, they looked quite healthy―healed even.

Now that you didn’t need to be so wrapped up in the concern over your physical state, the gravity of the situation came falling down upon you. This complete stranger of a creature had dragged you to who knows where, and as far as you could tell getting out might just be impossible.

The colour effectively drained from your face.

It just so happened that the merman would continue to be perceptive to your reactions. “I was just waiting for you to wake up so I could bring you back. You’re safe here, I promise.”

His words brought untold relief to your anxieties, yet you still needed a little more reassurance. “That’s good. So you’re not gonna, like―”

“What, eat you?” He gave a half-hearted chuckle at the thought, “I’m not a monster. And even if I did want to don’t you think I would've done it already?”

It wasn’t what you were going to ask, but realistically your intentions on the subject didn’t matter all that much in the moment.

The indigo haired man sighed, likely expecting a response. “Look, I just wanted to help you. That’s it.”

Help you. That wasn’t something you were normally accustomed to.

You had problems asking for assistance on your own, and even if you wanted to there was never really many who would be willing to indulge you.

The sentiment he offered was nice. Even nicer was that it wasn’t just an offer―he already had helped you. He’d saved your life. It was more than anyone else had done for you throughout your many years of living.

It was nice, to say the least.

But you still needed to get back to the beach. “So, are you gonna help me get out of here now? Cause I don’t exactly know where that exit leads to…”

He smiled slightly, the most positive emotion you’d seen him express since emerging from the depths. “Of course, I did say I would after all.”

Your eyes followed his hand as it outstretched towards you. The first reaction you had was to automatically take it, but you stopped halfway through the motion when you registered his physique.

He had claws.

They weren’t long, but they were for sure sharp looking. You hesitated in your advance.

“It’s all right. Come here.” He gestured to you to approach, but still you wavered. “I won’t hurt you, little human.”

Not that you weren’t still wary of the dangerous looking appendages, but you didn’t exactly have a choice. He was your ticket out of the cave after all.

Without a word you took his hand. He gently guided you to the edge of the water, supporting your weight as you clambered into the ocean pool.

There were still small waves entering from the mouth of the cave, a weak current lightly hitting your body. It was enough to wash away whatever substance the merman had applied to your injuries. Now that they were clean, you could see just how much they’d healed in the short amount of time.

You could think about how that was even possible when you were back on land.

When the man spoke again it startled you slightly, him being so close. “The tunnel is long. I’m afraid that even if I swim fast you’ll still run out of air before we break the surface.”

The statement made you panic a little, eyes going wide.

He continued before you could give your take. “I’ll have to give you some air halfway through, just let me know when you need a breath and everything should be okay.” The merman pulled you into his chest as he spoke, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other gripped your upper arm.

“Wait―how are you even gonna do that?” As far as you could tell he wasn’t carrying an oxygen tank or anything of the sort.

Looking down at you with a slight smirk on his face, he responded. “You trust me, right? I’m not going to let you drown, don’t worry.”

That didn’t really answer your question, but he wasn’t done. “And I’m your only way out of here so does it really matter? That is unless you want to stay here with me forever.”

Frankly, you had no clue what he meant by ‘giving you air,’ but he was right―how he kept you alive wasn’t all that important in the grand scheme of things. Before you could make a point to push your concerns he pulled the two of you underwater. You thanked the heavens you were able to fill your lungs with air the second before you were submerged, inwardly cursing the man for not giving you a heads up.

Your body was flushed to his, and as he swam you could appreciate the robustness of his frame. It was impressive, and if it weren’t for the stress of the situation you may have liked to take more time to admire it.

It was hard to keep your eyes open as the water rushed past you. That was indication enough of just how fast you were going, and you realized just how screwed you would’ve been if you had tried to make your way out of the cave by yourself. If you didn’t drown before, making that attempt would surely do the trick.

The two of you were roughly twenty seconds into the swim when you felt the burning in your lungs start to become unbearable. Without knowing what his methods of relief were, you held out as long as possible without asking for help. Yet it was only a few more seconds and your body was practically screaming at you to breath.

He didn’t tell you how to get his attention, so you opted to rapping on his chest with one hand. Thankfully, he stopped his journey towards the exit immediately after you began thrashing in his arms. Still slightly drifting forward in the water as a result of his momentum, he brought your body to be eye level with his. Not a moment too soon and he was pressing his lips firmly against yours, hands gripping the sides of your face to still you. And then you realized―this was how he was going to supply you oxygen.

Your lips parted and a relieving wave of air was forced into your lungs. He pulled away a moment later and you pursed your lips once again to contain the air. You hoped he didn’t see the faint blush on your cheeks as he pulled you back into his chest and continued swimming.

Another twenty seconds and you felt him angle upwards, and much to your relief you felt the water break around you.

Sound finally returned to your ears, having been previously replaced with the muffledness of rushing water. You blinked a few times to clear your eyes, readjusting to your surroundings. The sun was setting now, having lowered much closer to the horizon and casting a whole new set of colours upon the clouds.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” His teasing attitude wasn’t entirely appreciated, but it did help to alleviate the stress of the situation somewhat.

“I guess, not...thanks.” You gave him a small smile to show that you were grateful, given that your own tone was still a little shaky from the strange events that were taking place.

The merman allowed you some space now that he didn’t have to drag your body through the water alongside his. “The beach isn’t too far from here.”

From where you treaded you could see the shore clearly in the distance. You followed him as he began heading in that direction, presumably going at a slower pace seeing as you didn’t exactly have the same swimming capabilities as he did.

While staying above the waterline, the man continued the conversation. “So, I believe that it wouldn’t be too much to ask you to keep quiet about my existence. Not that anyone would believe you anyways, but still―in exchange for saving your life I think it's fair.”

Somehow it took him saying it to remember that you’d forgot to thank him for doing so. Sure, you thanked him for bringing you out of the cave, but that was a requirement if he wanted to free up his home once again. It was a little embarrassing, but you gave yourself some slack as nothing right now was anywhere near a sense of normalcy. “Ah―yeah, I think I can do that.”

He smiled at your sheepish reply, giving you the idea that he picked up on your abashed emotions.

The rest of the journey to the shore was done in silence. He would never go too far ahead of you, and for a moment you wondered why he didn’t just pull you the rest of the way there as well. It would’ve saved more time, but you weren’t exactly in the position to be judging him on his actions given all he’d done for you.

Eventually you reached the mainland, much to your gratification. He helped you up onto the rocks that were jutting out of the waterline―the area that kept the ocean pools you were studying. In fact, he had brought you right up to where your bag was still laid.

Still feeling a little ashamed for how much of a burden you’d been, you gave him one last condolence. “Thanks again. I don’t know how you found me but I’m glad you did. The last thing my parents need is to hear their daughter drowned trying to work on her final.” Awkwardly, you rubbed the back of your neck. It felt like you were oversharing, and at this point you should probably just shut up and head back to the cabins. Yet strangely enough the phenomenon of your realization that such a creature did exist was still very much enticing. You didn’t want to stop talking to him.

He stayed at the edge of the rocks, “It’s no problem. You should go back to wherever you’re staying on the island to rest. It’s getting late anyways.”

His concern was appreciated, but still―a small part of you was sad you would have to part ways with this otherworldly being.

“Ah―right. Um, I was just―”

“I’m Hitoshi, by the way. I’ll be here if you ever need me. Take care, (y/n).”

With that he was pushing off the rocks, and before you could get another word out―if that was even possible―he was already underwater. You saw as the slowly dimming sunlight reflected off his indigo tail, and in a matter of seconds he was so far submerged that his body entirely disappeared.

Well, that wasn’t how you expected your afternoon to go.

You had to take a few minutes to collect your thoughts, mostly consisting of you questioning everything you thought you once knew.

Briefly, you wondered just what people would say if you told them what happened to you. That you got stuck on coral, drowned, and then were rescued by a merman.

They wouldn’t believe you.

Maybe the drowning part, but the rest...not so much.

But even if they did believe you, there was no way you would break your promise to the man. He helped you―saved you. Nobody had ever shown you so much kindness, and it wouldn’t be right to just disregard that for the sake of attention.

Having had your full on adventures for the night, you quickly gathered your previously abandoned belongings. With a bag once again stuffed full of research equipment, you made your way back to the cabins.

And naturally, no matter how much you tried that night, sleep was immensely difficult to achieve. How could it not be―there was now a plethora of things to think about and you couldn’t tell a single soul. Frustrating was an understatement, but it was also kind of nice. The act of compassion the merman―no―Hitoshi, gave you was causing a certain feeling of warmth. It felt comforting.

You recalled his last words, saying he’d be there for you if you needed it. It was likely just a quick send off so he could get out of your way and return home. Yet the sentiment was still appreciated.

Eventually you managed to fall asleep, this time not doing so under the influence of painfully salty ocean water.

_____

Waking up wasn’t the most pleasant―there was a hoarse burning sensation in your lungs. Not that it wasn’t present the day before, but now it would seem that the effects of them being filled with a liquid that they should most definitely not be filled with was taking a toll. Whether it was swelling or simply the after affects of salt remaining in them didn’t really matter.

You popped some pain reliever into your mouth, wincing at the feeling as it slid down your throat.

Regardless of yesterday’s events you still had a schedule to follow. However doing so proved to be a challenge. At each task you were met with you found your thoughts drifting back to the strange encounter. At breakfast, sitting down at a worktable, lunch, editing a portion of your report―everything had you returning to contemplation over Hitoshi at least once.

It was safe to say that you didn’t get as much work done as normal.

The anticipation for the end of the day was unbearable. You had to return to the ocean pools to collect samples you weren’t able to gather yesterday.

Mostly, you had now developed a slight fear of the ocean. How the waves turned so violent while you were swimming was beyond you, but it only proved how unpredictable nature could be.

And you still wanted that piece of coral.

Your sense of self-preservation wasn’t the best. It had never been, really. After time and time again of putting your own needs second it was only natural at this point. Maybe not today, but you were going to try and return to the ocean no matter how much the prospect intimidated you.

Like you’d done for the past week, you assembled the necessary gear for your work and stepped out into the heat. To get to the area you simply had to walk along the beach. It was probably the best part of your day―with nothing to do while you walked you needed only to think.

And right now you were thinking about Hitoshi.

He was handsome―no denying that. Clearly he had a good heart, why else would he save your life after you’d so foolishly gone and put yourself in a situation that could’ve been easily avoided. He wasn’t the most expressive, but you could still tell that he meant well.

Or at least you hoped.

Either way you wouldn’t be forgetting about him anytime soon.

Finally you had arrived at the ocean pools, thankful to be able to rest your feet after the long walk. Looking out onto the ocean caused an involuntary shiver. The weather was warm, but the water that once threatened to kill you wasn’t.

There was no time to stew on harmful thoughts though―you were behind schedule. Disregarding the lingering worry that had settled into your heart, you pulled the bag off your shoulders and began removing its contents.

Almost methodically, you laid out your equipment on the flat expanse of the dry rock. It was important to be neat in your area of study, now being no exception. You were distracted with the meticulous arrangement of research gear, eyes and mind trained on setting it up to perfection.

“How’s the work coming?”

You nearly jumped two feet into the air.

In fact, you knocked over a petri dish as your body jolted from sudden noise behind you, it sounding off with a light splash as it landed in a nearby pool. Your head whipped around in the direction of the voice.

If your mind didn’t register the owner of it by sound, it would visually.

And there Hitoshi was, in his still unbelievable merman glory. He was propped up on his elbows, casually resting against the rock.

You breathed a sigh of relief, having come down from a brief adrenaline induced high. “Jesus―you can’t just sneak up on people like that. And it's going fine, I guess.” You bent over to pick up the piece of equipment, now having to disinfect it for later use. His sudden presence still had you a bit tense, and you warily eyed his form.

“Are you afraid of me?”

The question caught you off guard―clearly you looked a lot more nervous than you thought.

Of course you weren’t afraid of him. Maybe you felt a little awkward, given the vast difference between you two, but certainly not afraid.

“No, you just startled me a little. And the ocean’s still got me kinda freaked out, so…” You waved lazily with one hand in the general direction of the body of water as you spoke, returning to the task at hand.

You heard the water around him splash slightly, “Well, you can relax. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Actually…” Looking in his direction, you saw him reach below the surface of the water. “...I’ve got something for you. Here.”

In his right hand Hitoshi produced one of your plastic sample bottles. Inside of it was the frustrating piece of coral you were trying to pry off the rock before meeting your demise yesterday.

Your eyes blew wide at the sight―of course he could’ve gotten it so easily. He’s a goddamn fish after all. But there was one thing that didn’t quite add up in your head. “How did you know that’s what I was looking for?”

He looked at the jar before returning his unperturbed gaze back to you. “I, uh…” Just barely, you could pick up on an almost abashed look across his face. “I was sort of...watching you. That sounds creepy, I know. It was when you went in the water―not a lot of people come to this part of the island so I wasn’t exactly expecting visitors.”

Now it made sense. “Oh, well if that’s the case then I guess I was lucky. You might not have found me if I got stuck on the more populated area of the beach.” It was practically a blessing that you came across the area―you might have been dead if not.

Standing up from your position, you walked over to the break in rock and ocean where the merman was stationed. You sat down next to him, “Thanks for this, Hitoshi.” You took the bottle from his extended hand. “I really need it if I want to do good on my final. And I probably would’ve tried going back out there sooner or later for it.” You laughed a bit at your own statement, knowing how bad of an idea it was, but still finding the humour in your lack of survival instinct.

He didn’t seem as amused, “You’re telling me you would’ve risked your life just for a piece of coral?”

At that you smiled, “It’s not just a piece of coral. I mean―it’s not rare or anything, but it’s relevant to what I’m studying. So yes, chances are I would’ve.”

Hitoshi shook his head, lips slightly upturned at your behaviour now as well. “It’s a good thing I’m here then. Can’t say I’d be so inclined to let you out of my home if I found you half-dead again. For your own sake, of course.”

You rolled your eyes. But really, you were grateful for him. “Seriously, this means a lot.” Forming your next words was difficult, given that you didn’t want to sound too much like a loser, but they needed to be genuine. “I don’t get a lot of help when it comes to stuff like this. I’m not the best at asking for it either. It’s just―you’ve done so much for me...I don’t even know where to begin when it comes to repaying you.”

There was a moment of silence, and your heart sunk a little thinking that you’d said too much.

“Why don’t you start with telling me about yourself.”

That only confused you more.

“You want to know more about me?”

The toothy grin he gave as he laughed a bit at your response wasn’t expected, but it did help ease the tensions. “Yes, little human. I don’t get to talk to many of my own kind, let alone yours. And as you said, you need to repay me so technically you don’t have a choice.”

His condescending pet name didn’t go unnoticed, but you’d let it slide―he had done more than enough to earn the right to a little teasing.

You have a half-hearted shrug. “Okay then, what is it you want to know fish boy?”

Now things could finally start getting interesting.

#bnhabookclub #yandere bnha #yandere shinsou hitoshi #yandere shinsou #yandere mha #yandere my hero academia #yandere #mermay #yandere x you

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justlikebudapestauction · 3 years ago

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Check out Jade’s works on AO3!

Questions for the creator? Reach out to them on tumblr or via email at [email protected].

If you have a very specific prompt and are not flexible, it’s best to contact the seller before bidding, even if the prompt fits within their listed parameters. If you are asking for a specific kink, always ask first.

_____________________________________________

Offer #315 - Jade

Organizations this auction benefits: Bidder's choice of any of the

listed groups (See full list.)

Type of fanwork: Fic

Fandom(s): MCU: Black Widow, Infinity War, Endgame, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Can work in comic influence, but I have not read the comics yet, only the Wiki pages.

Ratings: Teen, Mature, Explicit

Length/scope: 5-10k words.

Especially interested in: Natasha/Bucky, Natasha + Yelena (also Natasha/Yelena), Natasha + Wanda (also Natasha/Wanda)

Unwilling to address: Natasha/Bruce Banner, Natasha/Clint as the primary focus.

Open to working with others (sensitivity reader, translator, etc): Yes

Notes: I can't dictate how much I'd be willing to write without an idea first, but although I selected 5-10k, I can write more if the idea really gels with me and I find I can't complete it in under 10k. This was just to manage expectations in case I couldn't work the idea beyond 5k.

Contact language: English

Open to contact with translation: Yes

“Cocking her brow, Yelena shakes her head. "I am not. It’s not wise to tell a Widow that she is happy when she is not. You may lose your head." "But I’m Spider-man," he says, still grinning lopsidedly. Peter begins to sway, kneeling against the ceiling. "And we’re friends. Spiders should be friends." "Did you know the women spiders like to eat the boy spiders?" His brow crinkles as he shakes his head. "No," he says, "not our spiders." She nods, humming. She tries to peel the web from her fingers and grows angrier with each sharp movement resulting in nothing. He’s good; she’s proud of him for finally taking her advice to heart: Stop playing nice, Spider-boy. "We do," she says in a deadpan, keeping her face as blank as possible. "We feast on your eyeballs first," she continues, reaching out to brush her cold fingers against his eyebrow. Some of his webbing clings to the fine, bushy hairs there. "Then, we eat your skin," she says, wiping the web against his cheek.”

- the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again

Auctions run from 20/08/2021 to 29/08/2021. Bids before or after this period are invalid and will not be counted. PLEASE NOTE bidding forms only open on 20/08/2021. If you would like to bid on this listing:

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Thanks for participating in the ‘Just Like Budapest’ Fandom Auction!

#offers #Jade #fanfic #JLBP2021 #Offers2021

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tloujm · 4 years ago

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Part V: Liars

Author’s Notes: This is that aforementioned storm. Timeline wise, the two of you have only been together for half a year.

Genre: Little fluff at the beginning, then boom ANGST

Summary: You and Joel find the bodies of two former Jackson residents. The traumatizing discovery prompted you to question Joel again. His lack of answers caused a riff in your romance with each other. After a little bit of time, you decided to take a road trip down to Utah to visit the hospital and find some answers for yourself.

Ship: Joel x Reader

As two of the most experienced survivors in Jackson, you and Joel often patrolled as a pair. Joel didn’t mind doing group outings, but if you were involved, he preferred it to be just the two of you. For a couple that lived together, you and Joel didn’t see too much of each other. This led him to cherish these particular patrols. It was an easy day. The only clickers you found were through a scope. Joel may not be a stranger to violence, but any day where melee combat can be avoided is a good day to him. The two of you took your time on the trail; your horses slowly walking next to each other. You pointed out a small cottage. It was picturesque considering the dilapidation of its surrounding environment. Joel was apprehensive, but agreed to make a little detour so the two of you could check the place out. You figured stopping there would give everyone a bit of rest before continuing on.

Joel searched the perimeter and you peered through the windows. He approached the door and found that it was unlocked. The two of you entered and looked around silently. You followed him down the hallway to a door that was cracked open. He tried to open it further, but it barely budged.

“Think you could try to get through there?” He suggested, looking at the narrow space between the door and the wall.

“Got it.” You slipped through the space with little maneuvering of your body. Once you were in, you immediately turned around to find what was blocking the door. Someone had barricaded it with a dresser. You pushed it out the way. “All good.” You said to him.

Joel grunted, pushing the door open wider. “Thanks.” It didn’t take long for you to spot a body. It distracted you from the moving one to your right. “(Y/N)!” Joel alerted you. It got too close for his comfort. He shot the clicker right as your brain registered it's existence.

“Thanks.” You said after letting out a breath.

“Yeah.” He mumbled before examining the human body. “Hey, c’mere.” He had crouched down in front of the skeleton. “You remember when Maria called a search for those two teenagers that ranaway?”

“Yeah.” You approached the body.

“I think this is them.” Joel said.

“God, that was a year ago now. They only made it this far before…” You faded out. You didn’t even want to finish the sentence. You turned back to face the other body. One of them had turned. “Guessing by the head wound and the blood under it, this one was shot by that one.” You pointed back and forth between the bodies.

“I’d reckon you’re right.” He let out a little grunt as he got up. You walked around to gather clues on their demise before discovering a scrap piece of paper on a table.

“‘Jackson is a wonderful place, but we got tired of hearing the stories of people suffering everywhere else. We wanted to save lives. We had good intentions.” A breath hitched in your throat as you read the next part. “‘We didn’t make it an hour before running into a horde. Now we’re bitten. We’ve decided we’re going to end our lives instead of turning. Please tell our family and friends that we’re sorry. Love Adam and Sidney.” Joel watched as you turned the paper around. There was more on the back. “‘I shot her. I can’t take my own life. I’m a fucking coward. Adam.’”

“Jesus.” Joel whispered to himself.

“If only they were immune, right?” You commented, putting the paper back down. He glared at you. He couldn’t quite read your face, but he could only hope that what you said didn’t mean anything.

He broke the silence. “Well. Let’s, uh, get these bodies back to Jackson.” He looked at you and gestured with his head. “C’mon.” He began to move, but you stayed still.

“When we took that hike a couple years ago, you said that my test results didn’t matter.” You started. Slowly, Joel turned around. He knew he was in for it. “What did they tell you specifically? Why couldn’t they make a cure from me?”

“They told me that there were others like you. You weren’t the only immune that they’d come across, (Y/N)----”

“That’s not what they told me.” You stated, growing frustrated.

“They probably said that you were the only one, to make you go. They wanted you to feel the weight of the world on your shoulders like it was your responsibility to save mankind.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me that before?” Your voice started to sound defeated.

Joel let out a deep sigh. “I didn’t want you to think it was all for nothing.”

“If there were other people, then why couldn’t they make a cure from them?” You asked.

“That’s the thing, (Y/N). They had their chance. Multiple chances, matter of fact, and they failed each time. They didn’t seem any more certain about a cure when your test results came back.”

You thought on his words for a moment. “I never met another immune before. Have you?”

“They could be hiding it. You do.” He replied softly. It could have been true, but the feeling from your gut was familiar. It told you that he was still lying. He could tell you were thinking of something else to ask. “Is now really the time for this?” He slowly approached you. His demeanor hardened.

“We traveled across the whole country to get to that hospital. I had so many questions for them. What if we had stayed? If you would have given them more time, they could have figured something out; something they hadn’t seen with the other immune.” You raised your voice, almost in a pleading tone.

“(Y/N),” Joel’s voice turned firm. “How many times do I have to say, there was no cure! They failed. They tried. We tried. But it just didn’t work. I need you to understand that.” He let that sink in before changing the subject. “Now, we need to get these kids back to their families.” He continued to glare at you, but you looked away. His defensive attitude dissipated. “C’mon.”

For the sake of getting back home on time with the bodies, you let the matter go, but it didn’t stop eating away at you. The two of you looked around the house for supplies before going back to the room where the bodies were. You helped Joel wrap them in sheets. He carried Adam and you carried Sidney. Because she was nothing but bones at this point, Sidney was much more fragile. You tried to keep her intact when putting her over the horse. Unlike Adam, she did not stay put. You felt bad all around, between handling the bodies and the inconclusive talk you had with Joel. This was your first fight as a couple and you didn’t know what to do about it. You wanted to figure it out alone, but you had no choice but to walk with him the whole way back to Jackson. It was a long walk and you stayed silent the whole time.

You took that time to try to regain your memory of that day. The fact that it’d taken so long for it to come back made you think that it was stunted from more than the anesthesia. You figured it was better to try to come up with the answers yourself for once than ask Joel. He was remarkably defensive and you weren’t in the mood to deal with that.

You remembered cold frigid water, but how did you get there? What was the body of water? You’ve known how to swim since you were a kid, so if you were to have drowned, how did it happen? You tried to think further, but that was as far as your brain would go.

When the two of you arrived, Joel told the gatekeeper to radio Maria. She and Tommy came as soon as they could. You watched the somber looks on their faces. The brothers gently unmounted the bodies while she sent others out to tell the families. You took the reigns of the two horses and led them back to the stables.

That night, you went to bed early. After the stables, you went straight home in the hopes to be fast asleep by the time Joel got home. Your plan worked and soon you were lost in a slumber. Next thing you knew, you were swimming. The water was murky but manageable. You had to dive through an opening to get to your destination. The place looked industrial. You looked around as you lifted yourself out of the water. There were steel beams and ladders and then there was Joel. He was standing there waiting for you. His mouth moved, but you couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. He seemed happy to see you though. You caught up with him and the two of you walked through the building. The sound of rushing water got louder as you approached the end of the pathway. A strong current had flooded this section of the building. “Hold on, we’ll find a way across.” Joel said encouragingly. You followed his lead as he started to hop on top of floating debris. At one point, you got ahead of Joel and decided to cross to another section of the building by walking across on an overturned bus. You hopped down onto it. You could tell it was unsteady, but it did its job. You had just made it across when Joel hopped down onto it. The sound of creaking metal and rushing water formed a pit in your stomach as you knew that Joel was not going to make it. You tried to reach out for him, but the platform began to break underneath you. The current started to move the bus, which caused Joel to lose his balance and fall into a broken window. You screamed his name. You could hear him struggle as water rushed through the openings of the bus. You ran across the platform in an attempt to catch up with it. You released a burst of energy and jumped onto the glass door. Luckily, it didn’t break when you did because you saw that Joel was right under it. You wanted him to move so you could try to bust the window open and pull him through, but the current was keeping him pinned where he was. He reached up and tried to pry the door open, so you followed suit. The rapid current coupled with the increasing weight of the big metal box, caused the bus to almost spin before sinking. You lost your balance and fell into the water. It happened so quickly. Your heart rate grew faster and faster until it stopped altogether. Everything went black and that's when your eyes shot open. You clutched your chest as your eyes adjusted to the darkness of your room. You could feel yourself starting to hyperventilate. You focused on your breathing, allowing you to calm down. Joel was there next to you, fast asleep. It must have been early morning. You got up with no intention to go back to sleep.

Over the next couple of days, you became insomniatic as your brain kept going back to the hospital. Every night, you laid in bed feigning sleep until you heard the sound of Joel’s light snores. It was then that you would get out of bed and get dressed. After a few days, it’d become routine for you to head to the training grounds in the settlement and practice your archery. To avoid attracting attention, you did not bring a lamp. The only light you had was from the moon. You told yourself that you did it to practice nighttime combat, but truly, it was an attempt to distract and tire you. It mainly helped the latter.

“Tonight is the night.” you whispered to yourself once you were downstairs. Your night started off like the others: waiting for Joel to fall asleep and getting dressed. This time, you had a bag packed, hidden in a crawl space you found. You went through it one last time before slinging it over your shoulders. You pulled open the junk drawer, careful not to make noise, and grabbed a pen and paper. You wrote a brief note before sticking it on the refrigerator. Part of you was hoping he wouldn’t find it immediately so you could have enough time to do what you needed to do. You contemplated not writing a note at all, but you couldn’t do that to him. Despite your instinct that he was lying to you, he didn’t deserve to not know.

A week earlier, you snuck out the east gate, known for being unmanned, and acquired a working car. That in and of itself wasn’t easy, but finding gas to syphon was another story. Your trip depended on this, though. You could have snuck your horse out, but you didn’t want to risk any problems that would arise during such a distance. You parked the black SUV a considerable distance from Jackson to avoid being detected by anyone there. With only minor obstacles, you were able to make it past two state lines by daybreak. The car’s speed began to slow down as you approached St. Mary’s hospital. The building was desolate. It didn’t stop you from being cautious as you got closer. You parked your car behind a big bush and covered it in branches before you set off on foot. The inside did not look familiar to you at all, which made sense since you were never awake for any of it. Did it even happen at all? You asked yourself. You knew that this was the building because the two of you had spotted it from afar, but what if you never made it. From the start of the journey, Joel was hesitant toward anything regarding the Fireflies. He even asked you if you wanted to turn back. If you being knocked unconscious in the water was true, then maybe he took that opportunity to make the choice for you. I still woke up in a hospital gown, though; you thought.

As you looked around, you found evidence of a former settlement. The doctors and scientists who worked in the building must have lived here as well. A lot of their stuff was still here. It was as if they never left, but no one was there. Blood was found on the walls and floor. It was far from fresh, so it didn’t phase you at first. Your break in the mystery was an abandoned duffle bag with the Fireflies symbol on it. Underneath the clothes, you found a tape recorder. Luckily for you, it still worked. You pressed play: “Most people have left already. I was one of the ones that wanted to go after the smuggler and the girl. They said, even if we found her, or by some miracle, found someone else that’s immune, it’d make no difference. The only person who could develop a vaccine is dead.” So many questions ran through your mind. You didn’t know which to visit first. All you knew was that you were right, Joel was a liar. He had looked in your eyes and lied to your face. How could I ever trust him again? You stuffed the recorder in your back pocket and continued to search. In another room, you found patient files in a cabinet. There was not one for you, but you went through the files of others. As you skimmed through, you found out that the Fireflies experimented on humans who were not immune. From what you could tell, they tried to cure patients who were involuntarily infected by the fungal parasite. The goal was to kill the parasite once it had embedded itself in the host before complete transformation. Finding a cure was more than just a race against time. It was a way to kill the parasite for good without killing the host. It was a way to go back to normal. If a safe solution could be found, it could be turned into a vaccine and give people immunity. That was the theory, at least. None of them survived, however.

You read some notes strewn across a desk written by a doctor named Jerry Anderson. They seemed bleak. He mentioned the preparation to dissect a human patient alive through the brain. The writing seemed so archaic and almost desperate. Nothing else had worked. Dr. Anderson wasn’t sure if the sample that he planned to pull out of the patient would survive outside the host in the conditions of the rundown hospital long enough for him to reverse engineer a vaccine. It was a risk he was willing to take, however. There was no official file for a patient corroborating these notes.

You packed everything that you found of importance into your backpack. You intended to bring it back to Jackson and confront Joel with it. You made your way back outside before the sun began to set. The sound of approaching horse hooves made you alert. You turned around to watch the galloping figure.

“(Y/N)!” You recognized Joel’s voice first. He pulled on the reigns of his horse as soon as he got within a yard of you. He slid off with ease and walked up to you, never breaking eye contact. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were of worry and disbelief. You thought he was going to yell at you but all he did was hug you. “C’mere.” Joel pulled you into a tight embrace. He noticed that you didn’t return the gesture. Still, he let his chin rest on top of your head before kissing it. “The hell were you thinkin’? Runnin’ off in the middle of the night like that? You talk to me. You don’t just leave me a damn note.”

You pushed him off of you. “Talk to you? I don’t know what to say to you anymore.” Hearing you say that broke his heart. He noticed the change in your disposition after the two of you found those missing teenagers. You’d become withdrawn. “But if you want to talk, then let’s talk!” You heatedly exclaimed before taking a breath to level your voice. “Tell me what happened here.” Joel silently looked at you with large, guilty eyes. “I swear to you this is the last time I’ll ask, because if you lie to me one more time, I’m gone. You’ll never see me again. But if you tell me the truth, I’ll go back to Jackson.” You paused and lowered your voice. “No matter what it is.” Joel let out a long sigh but stayed silent after that. You could tell he was thinking. “Just say it.”

It was when you finally said his name did he look back up at you and begin to speak. “Making a vaccine would have killed you.” You let out a shaky breath as he watched you. “So I stopped them.” A tear ran down your cheek. He reached out to wipe it, but you moved away.

“Don’t touch me!” You couldn’t look at him.

“(Y/N), listen to me. The Fireflies,” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have ever trusted them.”

“Like how I trusted you?”

He inched closer to you, but you inched just as much back. “You were drowning. I tried to save you but some Firefly soldier attacked me. When I woke up, you were gone. They told me that you were being prepped for surgery. The blood tests and scans were not enough for them. They said that what you have is a mutation of the Cordyceps and it’s located in your brain. Somethin’ about it blocking transmitters. It’s why you’re immune. They were going to cut you open and leave you there.”

It was at that point you realized that the doctor’s notes were about you. It was your brain that he had planned on dissecting. You would have died. Streams of hot tears rolled down your face and onto your sweater. In the back of your mind, you knew that that could have been a possibility. You expected to die a long time ago anyway. Your death was just a delayed event.

“My immunity would have meant something!” You said, thinking back to the tape recorder. “What did you do to them?” You finally looked up at him again. I already know, don’t I?, you thought to yourself. The images of stale blood resurfaced in your mind. There was a lot of it. “You killed them.” You stated. He did not agree nor deny. “Oh my God!” Your voice became shaky as you thought about the amount of violence that Joel had single handedly caused. That blood didn’t just belong to a couple of people; not even a handful. A whole settlement was damn near executed and you let yourself love the man who did it. Your face fell into your hands as you began to hyperventilate. His fingertips barely brushed your shoulder when you slapped them away. “I said don’t you fucking touch me!” You stared into his eyes. They were ashamed, but unremorseful. “I’ll go back to Jackson, but we’re done.”

You get in your car and head back home, leaving him standing there. Those were the last words you spoke to him for months. Making it back to the house before he did, you gathered up your things and stayed at a friend’s for a while.

#The Last of Us #TLOU #tlou joel #joel miller #fanfic #fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #reader insert #OC #joel x reader #joel/reader

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second-chance-stray · 4 years ago

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RP Log: Dorn and Cravs talk over a campfire.

Cravendy Hound - Weather and the coming of night would interrupt Dornn and Crav’s training session, though by the time they stopped, they had already been beating each other up for several bells. With rain at their backs, they would find shelter underneath a rocky alcove and watch as the sky steadily went from blue to black.

Cravendy Hound had kept an eye out for firewood and, by the time they settled, she had gathered a sizable pile. For now, she simply dumps the wood onto the ground and takes a seat next to it, exhausted.

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn had just about finished the wrapping of his old bandages--his ivory bicep now surrounded with a pristine, new layer of cloth coddling it warmly. Once the lass found her footing back, the male planted himself on his knees, dipping his chin approvingly of her yield. The brittle clink and brutish thud of the wood, as it piled together, prompted him to wind his palm lower, diving it into the confines of his pocket... And withdrawing a moderate pouch from within. Fishing thereonafter inside, he finally plucked out a diminutive, crimson crystal, before chucking it haphazardly into the midst of the wood, and gripping each piece of lumber readily, assembling a proper pyre upon a circle of stones. His runic palm danced alight anew, as he bore it before the hearth--and with the ignition of the runes, so too did the crystal within the wood grow saturated with fiery aether... Until a spark came to life, rupturing from its breast. Clapping his palms together, he drew back, exhaling profoundly. "...Aye, there we are."

Cravendy Hound takes half of her hair in hand and wrings it out like a washcloth. A line of water drips down between her fingers and falls from her wrist. It seemed every outing she went on resulted in her becoming absolutely drenched - perhaps it was Llymlaen? It certainly seemed that the gods had some beef with her. With a sigh of relief, she sidled up to the fire and warmed her palms.

Cravendy Hound: “I’m gonna be feelin’ this for days, ugh...” She gives her arm a painful stretch, sure of the bruises that were hidden underneath her glove. “Guess I should’ve expected as much, given that ye’ve been trainin’ on rocks for who knows ‘ow long.”

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn gripped the loose end of his bandage betwixt his fangs, straightening it firmly, as he tied the remnant around his arm until the runic light was snuffed out from beneath. A wholly entertained rumble stirred within his breast, hinting at his approval of her predicament. Shuffling on all the closer, he'd rip the bandage's end off with a jerk of his burly neck, before planting both of his paws atop his thighs, wistfully exhaling. "...Mm, not too long. Should be 'round two moons now, dependin' on what day it be t'day..." Admittedly, the lattermost part infused his voice with a lasting confusion, only to be broken by a raise of his palm behind his head, idly scratching away at his pelt. "...Eh, apologies fer the sudden downpour earlier. Seems I let loose on me control a tad too much, so do try to dry up now, aye?"

Cravendy Hound shifts forward, arms wrapped carefully around her knees. Now that her body had time to relax, it was like all her soreness could now be at the forefront. Cravs lets out a hiss as she moves in just the wrong way for a split second. “Well, when did ye start? And don’t tell me ye’ve been out in the wilds this entire time. Don’t ye come back to town for supplies?”

Cravendy Hound - Dornn’s second claim goes unnoticed at first - she’s too busy warming up by the fire and licking her wounds to notice his odd statement immediately. She makes a sound of agreement but, after a delay, tired contentment twists into confusion. “Whuh? Are ye claimin’ control over the weather? It did get stormy back there but...”

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn appeared all too befuddled by the erstwhile sentiment, prompting his furred noggin to turn sideways in a quizzical tilt. "Nay, I... Hunt fer my supplies? Y'can find just about all you need in the wild, from berries t' meat an' lumber alike. The Shroud is known fer its rich game, 'fter all." The Aerslaentean tint to his voice swelled with pride, as his Northerner accent grew all the bolder. "Not that the Lohengarde will tell ye aught different. Twelve know me life's condemned t' their company more oft than not, as it seems..." A fond smile washed those words down, before his palm swatted the idle recollections away. "Bah! I claim no mastery o'er the elements, nay. 'Tis one of the highest staples of our people to possess such skills to command the weather... Yet it comes with some ease, with a clear plateau at yer disposal... As well as the teeny-tiny presence of the Red Moon's vast aetherial reserves amplifyin' me command o'er the weather. Blame me uncle fer puttin' me on this path." With a somber shrug of his bulky shoulderblades, he peered up at her, inspecting her thoroughly. "So, a vaunted... Drunkard an' ne'er-do-well, then? Strange track record ye've claimed so far, accordin' to that runt from afore."

Cravendy Hound mouth curves into a smile. “The Shroud is also known fer, what’re they called...the Elementals? So ye best be careful, unless ye want a swarm of bees to be sent yer way for takin’ too much honey. That, and I’ve never found a good bottle of drink in the wilds.” With that, she pulls out a metal flask half full of liquor and unscrews the top. After taking a hearty sip herself, she offers it to him over the fire. “‘’Ere ye go, weather boy.”

Cravendy Hound: “Seems...dangerous to be tappin’ into that aether. Ye must ‘ave a good reason for seekin’ such power,” Cravs muses, gaze shifting over towards Dalamud’s general direction. “Ye best be careful to not let it taint and control ye.” She raises a brow.

Cravendy Hound then stares back into the fire, red refractions dancing in the pit of her sea blue eyes. A somber mood takes hold. “That’s a good way of puttin' it. A lotta folk get riled up by the way I live, or the fact that I’m still livin’. Or both.” She lets out a prolonged breath. “And it’s fair, most of the time.”

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn hoisted an index digit aloft knowingly so, waving it up and down as he spoke. "Somethin' akin to that. The Elements 'ave yet to catch me, alas an' alack. All you hafta do is know how to conceal yer aetherial print with that of earth, wind and stone." Though, the mention of honey /did/ make his ears perk up at attention. "Kind of ye t' remind me, I could go fer fetchin' a comb or two right 'bout now..." Regardless, the offered flask made him rumble with even more curiosity, yet his customs compelled him to accept the offering, gingerly grabbing it out of her palm's domain. "Many thanks, yet I be 'ardly a -boy,- tsch." Peering over his shoulder as he pressed the drink to his lips, his concealed hues scoped out the outline of the lesser Moon. A generous chug or two, and he'd take abandon of the lid, handing it over with a hearty sigh. "...Aye, I ain't got plans t' mingle meself with whate'er that abomination behind me be. As fer ye, lil' munchkin..." His keen hues refocused upon her form, pondering over her own aetherial stream. "All the more of a reason t' piss 'em off with spite, I'd say."

Cravendy Hound takes back her flask. Without hesitation, she finishes off whatever’s left and shoves the thing back into her pocket, not bothering to cap the now emptied container. “Oy, if yer gonna be callin’ me shite like munchkin, then I can call ye whatever I want, -weather boy-.” She chuckles to herself. Both names fitted terribly, like a baby’s glove on a hulking beast. But that just gave her more reason to use them.

Cravendy Hound: “I’m done bein’ like that....or at least, I’m tryin’. Only so far ye can go til ye find the ‘ole ye’ve dug is too deep to get out.” She shakes her head. “Maybe it’s already too deep, but one can try to make things better anyway.”

Cravendy Hound: “‘Aven’t figured out the logistics, though, of ‘ow to make up to someone who wants ye dead without givin’ up my ‘ead as an peace offerin’.” Cravs shrugs.

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn kept a valiant vigil over her form as she spoke her case, his lips twisting into a half-smirk as she insisted on the nicknames. His barreled breast soon slumped thinner, as he exhaled a generous gale... Though her story had him issue no sentiment until it was fully told. At length, he'd plant his palms back onto his thighs, a timid growl rumbling in his chest. "Mm... Matters are e'er as simple or as complex as we think 'em to be. The truth is always somewhere inbetween." Nodding sagely, his digits patted against the plate of his legs, ere her resumed. "Northerners value deeds o'er empty words and silvery tongues. It has proved a grand solution t' solvin' disputes--either by trials by combat, or by feats o' heroism t' redeem one's name. Sometimes, all ye hafta do is look back to tradition, an' a simple solution may present itself, lass."

Cravendy Hound cranes her neck downwards and places her hand above her neck, each finger balanced on a boney ridge. Face hidden by untamed locks of hair, she lets out an even longer sigh. “But we’re not in the North, brother. We’re ‘ere. And specifically, we’re where Ul’dahn influence can reach, and the games they play in court are far beyond me.”

Cravendy Hound lifts back up and pulls her hair back behind her shoulders. Her eyes remain downcast, haunted. But the moment passes. “So, son of Hyrtfyr, ye claim to be a captain but I don’t see any crew. It seems clear to me yer in some kind of trouble. What ghosts do ye ‘ave locked in the closet?”

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn balled up a fist proper with the might of his right hand, his pale, bare thumb stroking over the index digit next to it. "Ul'dahn courts, huh..." He mused to himself, seemingly drowned in a deeper well of thought. "We be not in the North, aye--but peoples' hearts dance the same, even if a few scores more cowardly they be. Though, I be curious as to who 'zactly ye've stepped on, now..." On the subject of his own ghosts and mates, he momentarily fell quiet, only to wave a dismissive paw away. At length, he'd raise it to his breast, pressing the fist against his collarbone. "Eh, I'm 'ardly worth talkin' 'bout, as are me... Ghosts. Still, if ye've a mind to visit me crew, they live in no mountains, I promise ye--fancy a lil' hideout in the Mists, even. Can show ye 'round one day, if ye'd like."

Cravendy Hound is taken by a bout of incredulous snickering. “What? Ye claim to be hardly worth talkin’ bout, but then ye go around introducin’ yerself as Captain and throwin’ around some oldblood names. Yer an odd one.”

Cravendy Hound: “W-who I stepped on isn’t yer concern. All ye need to know, is that while wounds are things that’ll ‘eal, a man’s pride is ‘arder to put back together. And I may as well ground my victim’s into mincemeat,” Cravs waffles, arms crossed and lips lifted in a pout. She dips her head in thought. “Crew in the Mists? Guess I wouldn’t mind meetin’ them but do they know yer out ‘ere?”

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn rebutted with a simple, affirming nod of his chin. "Aye, I'm but a simple Sea Wolf man, no more, no less." He took vast pride in his heritage, that much was certain--yet he also did his best to shy away from her further prodding. Still, he managed to pursue the subject until she would yield no more answers. "Aye, pride is a bloody fickle mistress t' please. I'd know, 'tis me prime vice." A slight smile crowned his lips, as he confirmed her suspicions. "They be used t' me fleein' out an' about unannounced, worry ye not. I make sure t' leave them in proper care an' situated ere I sod off t' train me runic brawlin', 'fter all... An' apparently that entails bumpin' into fledglin' lil' she-Wolves in the wilds. Not e'en the Styrm whispered any o' that, aye."

Cravendy Hound: “What an introduction that’d be...oy, crew. ‘ere’s some random, wanted lady I found in the wilderness while I was out wagin’ war against rocks.” Cravs smirks somewhat, though it’s quickly brought back down into a snarl upon hearing his next few words. “F-fledglin’?! Oh, think yer a smart one, don’t ye? Call me somethin’ like that again and I’ll give ye a new ‘ole right between the eyes, ye oversized snowman."

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn presented both of his palms before himself, raising them in a surrendering fashion near-like. "Now, now, fair's fair... Those mean rocks had it a-comin'. Standin' 'round there, all... Menacingly... An' gray..." He hissed under his breath; the mere thought of rocks sent his blood to near-boil. Or so. Regardless, her reaction elicited a far more amused one from his end. "Somethin' like what, an itty-bitty she-Wolf that be by the fire sitty?"

(Cravendy Hound) the mere thought of rocks sent his blood to near boil.............. (Cravendy Hound) I am living (Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn) Heph. Heph. Heph.

Cravendy Hound hates this. SO MUCH. But as much as she wanted to grab her gun and turn her smug companion into swiss cheese, she had -just- spoke on not wanting to dig herself deeper into holes. And murder over sassy remarks, while something she had done in the past, was no longer acceptable. Think happy thoughts, Cravs. Think. Happy. Thoughts.

Cravendy Hound can’t. She instead gets up and menacingly steps (for the second time today) into Dornn’s space. If there was scruff to grab him by, she would’ve tried to lift him onto his feet and over the fire. However, his size and armor made such a gesture impossible. Frustrated, she simply puts her hand over his hat and pulls it down.

(Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn) Down as in off or down as in one of those comfy ear-warming caps that you just grab by their dangly things and pull over your eyes-- (Cravendy Hound) the second for sure (Cravendy Hound) bonus if this messes up his hair too xD

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn || The pale giant stood--or sat, rather--oddly calm in his perch, even as she abandoned her own lodge to assault his. Watching her near-boil over, then attempt to pacify her own thoughts, then inevitably fail and fall flat on her proverbial rear seemed of great amusement for the lad. Yet, as the rather fluffy, warm pelt of his head was tugged lower, he squinted momentarily up at her, only to grunt something fierce. Without a second thought, his ivory paws latched onto her wrists, commanding her to stay her movement in an instant. "Grh. Now'en, ye've had yer fun--don't make me make roasted cinnamon rolls from the cinnamon roll o'er this fire, 'ere."

Cravendy Hound winces from his grip, her body still tender from the training that had happened less than an hour prior. But like a wild animal caught in a trap, she didn’t know what to make of the situation. When you can’t bite anymore, the only thing left to do was bark. “Tch. ‘Hope ye like yer rolls with salt instead of sugar.”

Cravendy Hound - As Cravs rages on, tendrils of fire sputter from campfire, pulled thin from its source by an unknown magic. Like swirling threads, they reach towards the small of Crav’s back, eliciting a surprised yelp from her. “Bloody ‘ell! Dornn, I didn’t think ye were serious about roastin’ me, gods! Pull me out afore I melt!”

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn knocking his helm back into place with a stern jerk of his noggin, the man's lips, ever-confident, now equally proud, bent upwards in his trademarked, half-smirk. At once, his feet collected beneath him, elevating him to his natural, imposing height. At eight full fulms he stood, towering and proud--but still, he clutched onto her wrists, this time invading -her- personal space--snout to snout, nearly. "Lass... I'm a Sea Wolf. Salt runs in me veins." He appeared wholly entertained by her antics, going as far as to smirk right into her own face. Regardless, the proud brawler only tantalized her by the fire for a spell longer, intent on the innocent torture for just a few more moments.

Cravendy Hound: “When ye finally croak, I ‘ope ye dry into a piece of jerky, saltblood, and get eaten by the gulls,” Cravs tells Dornn off, the fire behind feeling like blazing flowers blooming along her spine. She sweats under the collar and then finally shoves herself free of his grasp. When she turns, the campfire has gone back to normal, and despite the sensation, her armor remains unscorched.

Cravendy Hound brushes herself off. “I don’t know if I should ‘ate ye or like ye. But, by the goddamn twelve, does bein’ around ye wind me up like a pissed off cog. Bah, I’m too sober for this.”

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn seemed in higher spirits from the ordeal indeed--as she wrung free of his grasp, he gestured with a free palm before him, while its twin saddled his hip in earnest. "Would ye -really- prefer t' see me in such a state?" He inquired with an innocent smile donned upon his lips, and a puppy-like tilt of his noggin to boot. "Sounds t' me like ye welcome someone bein' straight with ye... Even at the cost of it bein' infuriatin', eh lass?"

Cravendy Hound narrows her eyes at him, and if looks could kill, this one could’ve sent a primal whimpering back home. But despite that, he had hit the nail on the head. A small part of her enjoyed his company. “I’d pay a premium to get front row seats. But unluckily for me, ye seem the type to cling onto life like a bloody determined tick.” She slouches over, wrung out by his sass. In a much smaller voice, she speaks to no one in particular. “Lucky for ye though...and. For me. I guess.”

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn maintained his good posturing and hearty attitude to the extent of planting his large paw upon her shoulderblade, issuing no small amount of comrot through a tap upon her shoulderblade. "A premium, aye? Ye honour me, lil' she-Wolf. Though ye don't stray far from the truth o' the matter--ain't allowed the Sea t' swallow me up yet, despite its efforts. Yer tongue, while a fierce contender fer it, shan't avail ye either, am 'fraid." Giving off a tender squeeze, he'd mull over her previous sentiment, his own shoulders now rumbling with a baleful storm--that not of thunder, but of bones crackling, as he stretched prim and proper. "Mmh... That be 'nough trainin' fer the moon, methinks. Parched o' throat, are ye? Care t' join me on the road back? Y'seem like ye bear a good tale or two on yer breast."

#ff14 rp logs #Cravendy Hound #Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn #these two just push each others buttons #it's hilarious and i love it

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 5 years ago

Text

Survival

Pairing: Ezra x Reader

Warnings: NSFW (soft, secret/quiet smut. Some thigh riding. None too graphic), death, blood

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: My first Ezra fic! I was gonna wait until tomorrow to post this but I’m really impatient and just said fuck it, it’s 2020. Hope you lot enjoy! As always, requests and prompts are open.

Masterlist

You didn’t want to be stuck on this godforsaken moon.

The Green is what most called it due to its forestry nature. It was beautiful, but deadly all the same. Being the oldest to Cee, it was your responsibility to look after her and show her the ropes.

Damon was not your biological father but took you in anyway after the death of your mother. You didn’t particularly like the man; he was just as cold and distant with you (which you didn’t mind) as he was with Cee. That was what bothered you.

Cee was a very intelligent girl, and you always encouraged her to keep writing her book despite what Damon said otherwise about it. The smile you would receive after was worth all the fights and arguments you would have with Damon over her.

This kind of life wasn’t suitable for a young girl like her. You weren’t related to her by blood, but you always felt like a sister to her. She looked up to you more than she did her father, relied on you for any piece of humanity and comfort. Every decision you ever made was always in Cee’s best interest, because she mattered more to you than anything else in the world.

But it was hard to depart from Damon. Cee still loved her father despite their differences, and so the only thing you could do – while you bided your time to eventually leave and take Cee with you – was to stay and deal with Damon.

His greed was also something you could never stand. Yes it was nice to be rich and plentiful, and you were not oblivious to the realities of the world you lived in; but Damon’s greed was starting to become dangerous, and it was putting Cee in danger as well.

So when you’re standing in the middle of a draw, the man you had learned to be Ezra and his silent partner trying to negotiate, and Damon robbing them point blank as they had tried beforehand, you couldn’t help but feel that this was all a very bad idea.

You rob anyone and it always results in a firefight. You were prepared for it, but yet when the mute and Damon both fired at each other, both you and Cee stood there with blank expressions. Shocked and scared, Cee started to panic as Ezra, the last man standing, quickly went for a weapon.

“Go!” You said to Cee, pointing your thrower at him.

Cee hesitated before making a bee line for the lander. You only hoped that she would be able to get there in one piece.

Ezra smiled and shrugged as he watched her run away, eyes still trained on yours.

“I don’t believe I got your name,” he said.

You hated the fact that despite the situation at hand, his accent – even through your helmets – sent little trembles through you.

“You don’t need it,” you said gruffly. “And tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you down where you stand?”

He huffed. “Well, I think you would’ve by now if that’s what you really wanted sweetheart.”

Your firsts tightened around the grip of your gun. “Don’t call me that,” you growled.

Ezra put his hands up in surrender. “Alright. But I’m serious. You seem like a reasonable person, and I’m willing to negotiate.”

You hesitated. Could you really trust this man? He was partly responsible for Damon’s death, although Damon was just at fault for the whole situation breaking out the way it did, and you had Cee to protect. Ezra hadn’t moved a muscle, watching you with trained eyes.

“We follow through with Damon’s plan,” Ezra continued as he saw you contemplating. “I help you with the girl, offer my protection for the both of you. Not that I think you need it,” he added with a small smile.

You chewed on your lips as you contemplated his offer once more. You eventually aimed your thrower down, glaring at the man.

You told him your name, which brought a shiny grin to his lips as he tested it out with his natural drawl. You hated the way your heart flipped at the sound of it.

“Well then,” he stepped closer to you, and you couldn’t help but take a step back as he did. His smile faltered, just a little. “Let’s go find your girl.”

It didn’t take too long to find the damaged lander. You gave a pattern of knocks before calling out to her. Cee quickly rushed to the hatch, eyes meeting yours in relief but wavering at the sight of the man partly responsible for her father’s death.

“He’s going to help us,” you told her. “We came to an agreement. We’re going to try and find a way off this fucking moon but we gotta move now.”

Cee looked back and forth between you and Ezra. You could see the internal turmoil she was having and hoped like hell she would cooperate with you.

“Okay,” she finally said. You thought for sure she was going to say more, and she most likely wanted to but bit her tongue.

…

It had only been a week now. You knew time was precious, but the three of you had been monitoring The Green. You weren’t surprised to find other diggers and mercenaries; it was to be expected. Outnumbered, it was your suggestion at biding time and scoping them out, making sure you all had at least a good chance at making it out of there alive.

You made Ezra promise that if anything happened to you, that he would protect Cee. Their lives didn’t matter, only hers.

“Of course,” the conviction in his voice settled you, as did the firmness in his eyes as he promised you.

Ezra was not only incredibly handsome (which you would’ve fought tooth and nail to dispute), but he was also smart. He knew when to keep his mouth shut, how to dig, fight, track. You figured he had been at this lifestyle for quite some time now, and the old, tired look in his eyes seemed to prove your theory.

Cee wouldn’t give him her name at first, and he – much to your appreciation – did not push it. Eventually, however, you heard her blabbing away about her book to him; your heart swelled at the soft smile Ezra held as he encouraged her to continue.

It was rocky at first, your little partnership. You only answered his questions when it was necessary, and always kept your thrower in your hand just in case. Ezra was nothing but patient with you and overtime you had begun to open up to him.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m enough,” you said to him. Cee stayed behind to rest in Ezra’s tent while you and Ezra went out to scout. “For Cee, I mean.”

Ezra, who was walking in front of you, stopped to turn around, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

You looked down, suddenly shy. “I- I mean that I’m not doing enough for her.”

He nodded then in understanding, turning back around to lead the way. “You’re tryin’. Putting her wants and needs above yours, it’s the best you can do for a young one.”

You nodded. You knew he didn’t see it, but you were so deep in thought you didn’t even realize he stopped dead in his tracks until you literally bumped into him. He caught you before you could fall, and you wanted nothing more than to melt in his arms in that moment.

“She obviously cares about you very much,” he assured, arms still settled around your forearms. You looked up at him, fighting hard not to trail your eyes down to his lips, which you desperately wanted to feel against yours. You wondered if they would feel soft or chapped, what he would taste like against your tongue.

“And I can see that you do too. Now I know that we had a rough start, but I gave you my word. The girl will see off this moon alive, no matter what.”

You clenched your jaw. “Yeah,” you croaked. “She will.”

You also couldn’t deny the sexual tension that coursed between you and Ezra. He didn’t miss the way you would quickly avert your eyes once he caught you staring at him, or the way you would hold your breath when he was close to you, fingers twitching as if you were desperate to feel his touch.

Being the man that he was, he teased you. Little brushes against you, blowing it off by reaching behind you to grab a bar or a tool. Throwing you little smirks when you explain something to him. It was driving you crazy, and you wanted nothing more than to jump the man. The only thing that stopped you, really, was that you had Cee.

You knew Cee had detected the flirting, and she rolled her eyes every time Ezra cracked a joke at your expense. It felt like your skin was crawling. The thick, fiery boil in your stomach coiling and coiling until it threatened to explode. The ache in your core was one of the worsts of all; it had been so long since you felt the intimate touch of another.

While Cee was dead asleep, you had decided enough was enough. The next sunrise was the day to finally make a move for the Queen’s Lair, and there was no guarantee for anyone’s safety. It was now or never, and if the feelings were mutual between you and Ezra, then you refused to die without feeling him. Pushing your small excuse for a blanket back, you tip-toed across to Ezra’s bunk. He looked so peaceful, and you could see now his age, but it only made him more beautiful in your eyes. It was enough to almost change your mind. Almost.

You gently shook his shoulder. His mouth, which was slightly open in a quiet snore, quickly shut, eyes opening wide in slight panic.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you whispered, hand still on his shoulder.

Ezra glared up at you, sleep washing away from his eyes. “Okay?”

You hesitated. He kept staring in puzzlement until it finally clicked. Your flushed state, the embarrassment, chest heaving silently in eagerness. He grinned, opening his blanket to you.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered huskily.

You inhaled sharply before practically jumping onto the bunk. Your hands sat awkwardly between the both of you, now enclosed in his warmth.

Ezra covered you both, arms wrapping around your waist to bring you closer to him. You gasped, one hand on his covered chest and the other just under his chin. He brought a hand up to your face, brushing your hair way before cupping your cheek. Your lips were barely touching now and it was electric, breaths mixing together as you looked into his dark eyes; they were blown wide, and it only made you clench your thighs together for the friction you desperately craved.

“Tell me to stop if you want me to,” he said against your lips.

Such a foolish thing to say. You never wanted him to stop. He hadn’t even kissed you yet and you were already a puddle at his feet.

You answered with a clash of lips and teeth. Ezra had to hold back the groan that threatened to claw its way out, exhaling sharply through his nose instead. It had been a while for him as well.

His lips were better than you imagined. They were rough, slightly chapped, but somehow still soft all the same. You were convinced only Ezra could pull off such a distinctive and alluring spell with only the touch of his lips.

The hand that was wrapped around your waist slowly trailed down to your ass, groping it and kneading the flesh, earning a gasp from you; he took this opportunity to explore your mouth, both of you sighing at the taste of each other.

He slipped a thigh between your legs, bringing the other leg around his hip. You couldn’t help but to start grinding against his thigh, knuckles tightening around his arm as his lips trailed down your neck. You closed your eyes in bliss, his hand ghosting over the skin left uncovered by your shirt. Your stomach clenched, pulling back to pull the shirt over your head. Ezra looked at you in awe.

“Use me,” you whispered.

He gulped. It was all a blur, and suddenly he was on top of you, tearing down your pants and working on his. You shuddered at his thick girth, slapping against his stomach. You both looked over to Cee, still sleeping comfortably with her back turned as he pulled the blanket closer over the both of you, making sure to cover up your nakedness.

He kissed you again, palming your breast in one palm and tweaking your nipple in the other. Your back arched up into him, legs opening wider for him. His hips shifted against yours, the head of his cock brushing against your clit; Ezra had to bite back the moan, body shaking from restraint as he broke the kiss to look down.

“Please,” you begged. “Ezra.”

Ezra pressed his forehead against yours as he pushed into you. A moan would’ve escaped you if it hadn’t been for his lips. His breaths were shaky as he bottomed out, hips pressed firmly against yours. Your walls clenched from the fullness, making him close his eyes tightly and bury his face in your neck. The both of you knew you weren’t going to last long.

“Shit,” he whispered in your ear.

He started to move once you shifted your hips up, starting as slow and quietly as he could. He felt divine inside you. You trailed kisses down his gorgeous neck, biting down softly when he hit your sweet spot. He gripped a handful of your hair, tightening his grip as he started to move a little faster. His mouth stayed firmly planted on your collarbone as your hands trailed up and down his back, feeling the muscles ripple with every thrust before finally settling in his hair and back.

In that moment there was nothing else in the world but you and Ezra. You would die a happy woman if it meant having this moment with him. In the short time you had known him you grew attached, which you realized this to be a dangerous thing.

Where he was hard and calloused, touched by the harsh years, you were soft, sweet. The combination only fueled the desire, the need for each other. Where he was fire, you were ice, forming together in perfect harmony and creating something terrifyingly beautiful.

It felt as though Ezra felt the same, because when he pulled his head back to kiss you as your orgasms started to peak, you felt all the words he couldn’t say bleed into you like pure air – nothing like the sterile, recycled oxygen you were so used to.

You feel so fucking good around me.

I’ve wanted you since day one.

We have to fight through this together.

I can’t let you die.

I won’t let you die.

Every molecule in your body sang with euphoria as your walls tightened around his cock. His thrusts had turned harder now, not enough for it to be loud, but enough to bring that delicious ache you know you’d be feeling for days. You bit down harshly on his shoulder as you came, nails digging into his back. Ezra gritted his teeth and dug his short nails into the tender skin of your thigh, releasing himself into you.

You didn’t let go of him as you tried to catch your breath. You looked over to see that Cee had turned a little but was still otherwise very asleep. Thank god she was a heavy sleeper.

Ezra kissed your forehead, nose, then lips before pulling out with a small hiss. You grabbed your shirt to put on, watching as he pulled his pants back up. He reached over you, fumbling underneath the bunk until he found what he was looking for. He gently cleaned you off with the cloth, throwing it back under and pulling you into his chest after helping you with your clothes.

“I apologize,” he said after a few moments of silence.

You frowned. “For what?”

“For…” His eyes trailed down, and it took you a second before your eyebrows raised in understanding.

“It’s okay. I liked it.”

You felt the rumble of his small chuckle, smiling softly.

“I’ll remember that then, sweetheart.”

…

“Go!”

Ezra was bleeding from the stab wound in his abdomen, pushing you towards Cee. The whole thing had gone to shit. Bodies laid out around you, their blood seeping into the patchy ground. And now there were mercenaries after you and only one pod to your ticket home. It was so close, but Ezra was already pale from the blood loss and you couldn’t find your fucking kit and you were crying and you can’t lose him.

“Ezra,” your voice shook. “Come on.”

“I can’t,” he panted. “You need to go. Don’t die because of me. Take Cee and leave.”

Cee. You had to protect Cee. Your chin trembled. You pressed your helmet against his before whispering an apology.

Ezra watched as you grabbed Cee’s hand and ran. He closed his eyes, struggling for air. But, oddly enough, he was okay with his death. Because it was to protect you and Cee. He wasn’t the definition of noble or good by any means, had killed plenty of people himself just for the precious gems alone. He did what was necessary to live. But if he could do this one right thing, if he could die knowing you were alive and safe, then he could accept it with open arms.

He suddenly felt an intense pressure against his wound, eyes going wide and mouth opening in painful shock.

You sat over him, patching his stab wound to the best of your ability before looping his arm around your shoulders and yours around his waist.

“C’mon!” You grunted.

Ezra stood up, grunting at the pain but letting you carry him – as much as you could anyway, even dying he was still mindful – towards the pod. Cee helped you carry him in and closed the hatch.

You and Cee sighed in relief once the pod had successfully taken off. You made sure Ezra was patched up properly and relaxed as you sat down next to him. He looked at you in amazement, offering a gently smile in thanks.

You smiled back as you grabbed his hand, reaching to your right to hold on to Cee’s. A new sense of hope coursing through the three of you. You survived.

Tags: @scarlett-berserker, @justlovetoreadfics, @lil-baby27, @mando-vibes, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch, @im-the-music-whore, @certifiedhunter, @outlawers, @hejahockey, @okaydacre, @lemongrove, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd, @elusive-ivory, @dizzydazed, @bluejeancntrygrl, @our-mrlangdon, @parody-the-emi, @evalynanne, @purplewaterbird, @angel-hunter-winchester, @pascalisthepunkest

#prospect ezra #prospect 2018 #pedro pascal #prospect cee #prospect ezra x reader #ezra x reader #sophie thatcher #akhfsdfjksdjfl

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