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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

best nest

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: 6.2k

Keigo's never been able to properly indulge his instincts, though you're more than willing to help him change that.

warnings: avian, feral keigo. rut/heat cycles. nesting. wing kink. breeding. horny shit, i tell u what

beta’ed: @keiqos

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wow :’^) this is a collab with the wuv, @keiqos!! we each worked on a fic that was our own take of keigo during his rut, and now y’all get the fun results. here is hers!!! enjoy this feast!!!

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Keigo had been acting particularly weird for the past few weeks.

He was hardly a skittish person, yet he had been avoidant and downright shy in the last month or so. Despite living together, you had hardly seen or heard from him, and when you tried to address his absence, Keigo continually brushed you off.

He was hardly meeting your eyes when you managed to be in the apartment at the same time.

Finally, one night, he came in late. You sat, waiting on the couch, very awake circa three in the morning.

His eyes went wide, knowing he was caught.

“I know it’s late, but can we talk?” You asked softly, patting the couch next to you.

Keigo nodded stiffly, wings folded timidly against his back as he sat. In his big, tough hero uniform, he looked so odd with his hands held so nervously.

“What’s going on, love?” You spoke quietly, lowering the volume of the TV to a hum. “Talk to me.”

Keigo silently picked at the threading of his gloves, then pulled off his visor. He stayed silent, eyes wide and far off.

You sighed, bringing your knees up under your body to face him. You tried to sound strong, but there was a twinge of weakness in your voice, “Are you... seeing other people?”

That notion brought Keigo right back, head snapping up to meet your own before gripping the sides of your face (harder than you would’ve expected) and rapidly shaking his head.

“No, no, no, not at all,” Keigo scooted closer to you as he spoke. “I promise, not that.”

“Then what?” You were frowning, despite Keigo’s contact feeling aloe on a burn.

Once again, Keigo seemed to stumble. His eyes averted, going glassy.

“It’s embarrassing,” His hands slip from your face, back into his lap. “Very embarrassing.”

You raised an eyebrow.

Keigo Takami was many things. But, shy and passive were not in that repertoire.

You deadpanned.

“Please, just tell me,” You huffed at him, crossing your arms. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, Kei’. Feels weird.”

“I know, it’s just— fuck.” His gloved hands dragged down his face, flushing a bright red.

You figured he was a bit warm.

Carefully, you reached forward, going to pull them from his hands. He stiffened harshly, watching you with... slitted eyes— (had they always been like that?). You gingerly freed Keigo’s fingers and palms, intertwining your own.

“You can tell me, Keigo,” You smiled at him, squeezing and feeling pricks of pain in the flesh of your own hands.

You noticed then, that Keigo’s fingernails were longer, pointed even. Though, they didn’t look manicured. They seemed to grow darker at the cuticle.

Your eyes widened as you looked up at Keigo as he turned his head away, half hiding his face in the fluffy collar of his jacket.

“You know how I go on a ‘business trip’ about this time every year?” Keigo asked, rubbing a clawed thumb over the back of your hands.

You nodded, “You go on lots of business trips, Kei’. What’s different about this spring one?”

Keigo shifted his legs, wings twitching at his back. His entire form emanated his uncomfortable energy. From the tension rolling off his shoulders to the way he clenched and unclenched his jaw, Keigo was visibly very anxious.

“Okay, uh, how do I explain this—” Keigo dropped his head, then looked back up at you, blinking slitted pupils at you. “You know how I’ve got wings?”

“Duh, dummy,” You rolled your eyes, reaching out to brush some fingers over one of the large, external feathers.

Oh, but you got a reaction you weren’t expecting. You hadn’t thought anything of your action, yet Keigo audibly moaned with the contact. Something loud, high, and sinful as his thighs clenched together.

Both of your eyes went wide.

“So,” You began slowly, “You have wings.”

“I have wings,” Keigo’s voice sounded tense and held in his throat, shaking just a bit. “And, I have some other avian traits as well.”

“Like...?” You coaxed. Whatever it was must’ve really made Keigo uncomfortable if he was being this resistant to talking about it. This man was the number two hero, yet he was mincing about like a kitten.

“Uhhh... They’re more behavioral. Some physical,” Keigo bit his lip, shaking his head. “What do birds do in the spring?”

“Is this a riddle?”

“No, straightforward question.”

You really thought he was pulling your leg, but based on Keigo’s words and grave expression, he was dead serious.

And you had a dead serious answer.

“Oh my god, Keigo, you migrate?!” Your mouth fell open. Keigo’s eyes went wide and he seemed to stifle a laugh before shaking his head, feathers ruffling.

“No, oh my God, no,” Keigo carried some mirth in his gaze now. “Not at all.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing with him. The tension seemed to be somewhat out of his shoulders until you set a hand on his knee and squeezed.

“Keigo, out with it,” You rolled your eyes. “I know it’s scary, but I promise, no matter what it is, I’m here for you okay?”

You let your eyes soften as you sighed, squeezing his hands.

Keigo looked you dead in the face, “We fuck, (Y/N).”

You choked on your own spit, before leaning back with a small laugh, “I know it’s been a minute with your schedule, but we do indeed do that outside of spring.”

“No, no, not like that,” Keigo ran his hands down his face, shaking his head. “I’ve been avoiding you because this whole conversation is going to be weird and embarrassing. You up for it? Because it only gets weirder.”

“Lay it on me, tailfeathers,” You rubbed your thumb over his knuckles.

Keigo took a hand to sheepishly rub the back of his neck, “One of my more... avian traits is this... I don’t know, the Commission called it a ‘rut’, but I’ve done my own research and I’m not sure if that fully encompasses all of what it is.”

You weren’t entirely unfamiliar with the concept, but you certainly weren’t an expert.

“What happens during it?”

“Uh, to be frank, exactly what happens during a bird’s mating season, and then some.” Keigo’s long nails dug into the fabric of his cargo pants. “My feathers grow in a bit differently. I nest. I get weird and territorial, possessive. I cannot tell you how much I’ve wanted to leave your neck covered in bite marks, just fucking claiming you—”

You both swallowed.

“And... You’re insatiably horny on top of all of this?” You asked, trying to ignore the way your insides were heating up.

Keigo nodded, waiting for you to reply with a softened, gooey gaze.

Oh, this was a little weird, right? Keigo was avian in some ways, but you never thought he had a whole ass mating season-

“Wait, so, in the spring, the ‘business trips’,” You used air quotes with a frown. “You’ve been just disappearing for your ‘rut’ and then coming back? Alone?”

Keigo waved his hands between the two of you, feathers fluffing up defensively behind him, “No, n-no, not like that. Never once. I’d just hole up in my apartment and fuck my hand like it was God.”

You choked.

It made sense, you and Keigo moved in together at the end of last spring. Looking back, the timing now seemed to be intentional.

“When did it start?” You asked, getting semi-intrigued by Keigo’s odd biology.

“I was sixteen, I think,” Keigo did the mental math and bit his lip. “The Commission didn’t really know what to do with me, so they would just lock me up in my room with two extra blankets and call it good.”

You choked again.

“So, you just disappear, deal with it, then come back?” You frown. “Keigo, I would’ve helped if I would’ve known.”

“I don’t know, (Y/N), it’s a lot to ask,” Keigo’s nails bit into his wrists as he squeezed. “I’m basically a horny, possessive, feral birdman for two weeks, not too mention the time leading up to it. That’s why I’ve been all distance. I’m sorry, I should’ve at least told you.”

“I would have appreciated it if you had, but I understand,” You grabbed Keigo’s hand again and squeezed. “This doesn’t exactly sound like a thing you’ve really ever been able to deal with comfortably, huh?”

“N-not really,” Keigo got all sheepish again, scooting a bit closer to you. “I haven’t really known what to do about it this year, so I’ve just been putting off facing you. I was just gonna get a hotel room or something, run off for two weeks, and then come back.”

“Another ‘business trip’?” You raised an eyebrow as Keigo looked down, all sheepish and blushy. You tutted, shaking your head. “Well, babe, not this time. I’ve got you. I’m your live-in partner and I will not let my sweet, bird boy handle horny hours alone. I haven’t made you before, right?”

That made Keigo laugh, softly, some of the stress being held still in his wings falling away.

“I appreciate that, angel, but I don’t want you to agree to do this until you fully understand it,” He beamed you a smile. God, the man was like sunshine and candy when he chose to be.

You nodded, giving him a(n) (over)confident smile, “Lay it on me, babe.”

Keigo had amassed quite a detailed understanding of his biological clock over the years, and he was able to spit it all back onto you.

“It’s basically two weeks of time where my only thoughts are ‘nest’, ’fuck’,’protect’, ’breed’—” Keigo cut himself off when your eyes went wide.

“Wait, like, have children?” You asked, gut feeling unsettled.

You and Keigo had been dating for a while, but the topic of children had never been seriously brought up.

Does helping him mean to commit to having kids?

“No, not exactly. Like, I’m trying to protect a mate and breed, but that doesn’t mean the outcome needs to be children. At all,” Keigo assured you, patting your knee. “I know, it’s weird. I definitely am not into getting you pregnant, but that instinct part of my brain is.”

“Well, I’m on birth control, so we should be good there, right?” You laughed, relieved, squeezing his hand. “What do you mean by nesting?”

“A literal nest. A spot that just smells like me and you to keep—” Keigo clicked his tongue, sighing in what seemed like relaxation, “you safe. And mine. It usually ends up being just like... my entire apartment, lots of shredded pillows, feathers, blankets. It’s honestly a nightmare.”

A nightmare, yes, but a very necessary one.

So, a plan was made.

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Keigo sent you off to a hotel for the days leading up to his rut. He had to prepare, get things ready and he wanted to be careful not to trigger it earlier and risk ruining what would more than likely be his first proper rut.

You took his lead, pampering yourself for a few days and letting Keigo handle the details.

(Considering how wrecked your body was going to be in the coming weeks, it was more than smart to give yourself some time to rest.)

When Keigo called you to tell you he was ready, he was sounded elated, wings audibly flapping into the receiver.

When you arrived back at the apartment, the ride up the glass elevator was daunting.

You were perfectly happy to help with Keigo’s rut, but you were a bit nervous about what he was going to be like. Though he reminded you that one of his hormonal brain’s functions was to ‘keep you safe’, it also sounded like he was going to be a bit out of his mind. You trusted him with your life, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t nerve-wracking.

The elevator dinged, sliding open to the top floor.

Keigo stood just outside.

You couldn’t help jumping back in surprise, taking in Keigo’s... state.

He looked positively feral, just on sight. Though had been warned of this, you hadn’t fully expected how visible his state would be.

Keigo apparently decided to forgo any sort of a top today as his chest was entirely bare to you. A pair of grey sweats was slung low on his hips, likely put on in a rush based on the uneven settling of the waistband. This was not even to mention the very obvious imprint of his dick against the fabric, hard just from seeing you. He was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, skin pink with rushing blood.

“Angel,” Keigo purred, yanking you from the elevator and crushing you into his chest, smothering you with kisses. Stray feathers flew to pick up your bags, carting them off to your nearby apartment.

Speaking of wings—

In the few days it had been since you’d seen Keigo, his feathers had almost entirely changed. They were still their usual bright crimson, but the filaments of the plumage seemed to be almost... shiny? You couldn’t quite place it, but there had been some sort of change in their anatomy that made his wings appear iridescent when they moved. The patterns almost seemed to swirl and streak through the plumage. You wanted nothing more than to admire them.

Without thinking (or responding to Keigo, mistake), you reached out to grab one of the feathers, “Oh wow, Keigo, they’re so pretty.”

The moment you wrapped your hand fully around the plume, Keigo clawed his... talons (?!) into your shoulders, shuddered, and screamed.

You hissed as pain radiated from your shoulders, but managed to hold both you and Keigo upright as he twitched against you.

“Fuck,” He cursed against your neck, panting.

You felt a vague, wet spot on your leg.

You blanched.

“Did... you just cum? From me touching your wings?”

Keigo nodded against, still shaking.

“S-sorry...”

The shame in his tone made your frown, pulling away from him to press a harsh kiss against his half-parted lips.

“Nope,” You murmured against his lips. “Nu-uh, you have nothing to be sorry about. I’m here to help, dummy.”

He sighed in relief, pressing into you.

It was going to be an interesting two weeks.

...

The apartment was a nightmare. Keigo really hadn’t been lying when he told about how extreme nesting was.

Notably, nothing was dirty. Keigo was actually an immaculately clean person due to his time with the Commission, but he was disorganized. And the nest of an apartment was testament to that.

There were stray feathers everywhere. Stuck in cupboards, tucked behind the TV, wedged in pillowcases and blankets, even a few under the bathroom sink. Newly purchased blankets and pillows were strewn over every surface. It appeared like you could simply fall in any area of the house and be entirely cushioned. Not to mention that Keigo’s feathers could sense every single motion in the house.

It was a sweet gesture and testament to the protective element of the rut that Keigo described.

In addition to the many layers of softness, a new, far larger mattress had even been dragged to the living room and placed on top of a high frame set against the wall of windows that overlooked the city. It was heaped with pillows, fluffy blankets, and downy-looking, glimmering feathers. All of, despite its inherent chaos, was the comfiest looking corner of the apartment.

“Oh, wow, ‘Kei,” You breathed, running a hand along a soft-looking blanket over the back of a chair. “You did such a good job!”

With that, he was pressed against you from behind.

“I... I did? You like it?” Keigo never asked for validation so openly. The implication of his inherent fear around his rut continued to make your heart ache. From what he had told you (and what you read in the days prior about avian behavior), you needed to ‘accept’ the nest he made for the two of you.

I’ll make this good for him.

“Yes, so much.” You leaned back against his chest, loving the way the heat of his bare chest seeped so well through your clothes, “I can’t wait to snuggle up with you in it and so much more.”

Your last word was more than enough to get Keigo chirping into your ear.

Yes, bird-ishly chirping.

It was a mix of high and low clicks, maybe a bit of cooing thrown in as well. As far as his avian adaptations went, this one was newer to you, but remarkably cute. You turned around, pressing a kiss to his neck without thinking.

The contact made Keigo’s aforementioned talons dig into the meat of your hips, a hot breath rolling over your ear, “Please let me fuck you.”

It was abrupt, his shift in tone, but based on the way his cock was nearly burning your backside, it was a necessary step.

“Well, I certainly won’t stop you,” You didn’t realize the unintended weight of your words, but Keigo sure as fuck did.

He roughly grabbed your wrist, dragging you across the room to the mattress in the corner.

“W-wait, not the bedroom?” You asked. Keigo pressed at your shoulders, pushing you down roughly, though the softness of the bed dressings insulated your fall.

“Nope, here, best spot,” Keigo’s words were clipped as he straddled your waist, silencing any other words you might have with a soul-sucking kiss. His tongue wormed its way into your mouth, licking at your gums and receding to suck at your tongue. All the while, you could hear and feel his feathers shudder.

He pulled away, eyes half-lidded and vertical pupils blown wide.

“You have no fucking idea how much I missed you.” Keigo’s teeth nipped at your pulse point.

Were... his teeth sharper?

You craned your neck away from him, pulling a nasty growl from his chest. You watched his feathers, both the one’s still fixed to his back and flared upwards and those scattered around, shudder and writhe.

Keigo’s canines were longer, maybe even a little sharper.

This rut thing... it was an avian thing, right?

Birds... don’t have sharp teeth... Do they?

You dismissed it, much more focused on Keigo’s hand as it slipped lower, futzing with the waistband of your pants.

“Sorry, dove, I’m a little impatient,” His voice was rough and strained, like he was holding back.

His normally nimble hands struggled with the button of your fly, and with a nasty growl, he snatched up one of his nearby feathers, hardening it in an instant, and slicing your pants off.

“Keigo!” You shrieked, squirming, and sitting up as he tore off the ruined garment. “I liked those! That wasn’t nice.”

“I think I’m done being nice to you for a bit, dove.” He shot you a dark look.

You blinked at him.

Keigo had warned you that he would be a bit feral... but you weren’t expecting his nasty attitude.

You also weren’t expecting to be turned on by the rage-filled spikes in his words.

��Get on your hands and knees.” Keigo’s voice was clipped as he slipped off his sweats.

Holy.

Fuck.

Keigo’s cock was nothing to fucking sneeze at. It was pretty, long, with nice girth and a perfect curve for your pussy. He tended to keep his body hair well kept and groomed, an old remnant of the militancy of his youth.

Oh, but ‘fuck you until you’re pregnant’ Keigo?

His dick was a bit bigger, engorged with what had to be painful blood flow. Heavy balls hung below, ripe and flushed, in desperate need of contact, let alone release. Maybe it was the ambiance (or, the smell and pheromones unknowingly being inhaled into your endocrine system), but his dick looked immaculate.

“Is your dick bigger, babe?” You asked, half-drooling in your mind at your lover’s cock. It certainly wasn’t hard to.

Keigo normally would’ve clawed at the opportunity to schmooze you for stroking his ego so directly, but your current version of Keigo was far less into flattery.

“I said, get on your hands and knees.” He didn’t wait for you to reply, just flipped you onto your stomach, straddling your upper thighs. You yelped at the shock of sheets hitting your front, fabric tearing behind you as Keigo made quick work of your shirt.

You gulped as Keigo’s hands, talons, raked their way down your bare back as he let loose a loud, quaking sigh, “Oh, Angel, holy fuck.”

He said the pet name like it was a prayer to God and you let him.

You shivered under him as his nails drew lines up your neck, all the way into your scalp. Without warning, he pressed the heel of his hand into the curve of your skull, shoving you deeper into the plushness of the nest below you.

Oh... Fuck. Were you about to sloppy fuck in the sheets you’d be spending the next several weeks in?

(Yes.)

The somewhat gross revelation was quickly forgotten as Keigo’s hot breath shuddered against your ear, his (oh my fucking god slightly pointed?) tongue curled along the soft skin of your pulse point.

You both choked down a moan as his exposed cock rubbed against your backside.

“You’re so pretty like this,” For being feral, and for the blood that was quickly rushing to your head and sex, Keigo sounded very nice. “Gonna look so cute with my cock inside you, right?”

You nodded into the sheets, struggling to raise yourself up on your elbows as Keigo hauled your hips up.

Stabilizing yourself on the softness of the sheets and feathers was much more difficult than one would think. You were already slipping, no matter how you tried to hold yourself up.

“I can’t begin to tell you how much I want to fill you up, right now,” His voice takes on a dreamy lilt as he shoves you back, further into the nest. You crawl on your hands and knees, succumbing to Keigo’s hand on your neck after arriving to the middle of the massive mattress. “But, I also really don’t wanna hurt my angel. Gotta make sure you’re good and ready.”

The sentiment was nice enough, but you stiffened, remembering that Keigo’s nails were not only sharpened, but slightly hooked. You tried to turn, but quickly stop when you felt Keigo’s hot, hot breath over your sex.

You shuddered, biting your lip as his pointed tongue ran up and down your slit. From his hold on the meat of your thighs, you could tell he was trembling and burning. Whether it was from how much he needed you or how much he was holding himself back, you couldn’t be sure.

Keigo’s pointed tongue ran up between the lips of your cunt, both of you moaning at the sensation. You felt his wings raise behind the two of you, casting shadows down on your display in some weird show of dominance.

It made your skin run hot.

What made it run even hotter was the jolt you received Keigo pressed his face into your cunt with absolute zero shame.

His tongue slicked up the lips of your pussy, dipping around your opening with absolutely sinful sounds falling around the two of you.

When you tried to adjust your arms, you caught a quick slap to your ass, pain only pushing your eyes to roll back in your head as Keigo sneered against you.

“Greedy.” It was a rich line, coming from him, king of gluttony, but you weren’t about to argue with him.

His nails dug into your thighs, dragging your cunt and his face together to the point where it felt like there was no space between them. You were helpless to do much other than grind back on his tongue as he tongue-fucked your cunt.

Keigo drew away, grabbing you by the hips and spinning you. Your back hit the nest, eyes spinning as you weren’t so used to him outright manhandling you. You sucked in a breath as you stared up at Keigo, his face slick with your juices and enlarged wings spread out and upwards.

The slits of his eyes were blown wide, a toothy smile beaming down at you. It seemed sort of sweet before two of his clawed-fingers (thankfully, somewhat gingerly) spread the lips of your cunt. He spat onto your exposed clit, no reverie in his actions as his avian glare slipped over you.

A harsh clicking came from the back of his throat, feathers fluttering.

“B-Babe? Are you okay?” You asked as Keigo refused to look away from your splayed-out body.

“More than okay,” He shuddered, looking a bit more grounded for a moment. He swallowed, shaking his head.

Surprisingly, he reached out to cup the side of your face, rubbing a thumb over your cheek, “If you want me to stop, can you tell me now?”

“I don’t want to, Kei’,” You laid your words on thickly, knowing you had his lucidity. “Can you please fuck me? Fill me up, Kei’.”

He growled, something from deep in his chest, nodding, feathers shimmering in the light of the room.

He was on you instantly, wings flapping to shove his body into yours, lips on yours and tongue pressing into your mouth. The tapered appendage licks and literally fucks your mouth, robbing you of air as you weave your hands into his sweaty tresses and pull.

The pain spurred him on, one of his hands sloppily going between the two of you to line his fat cock with your cunt. He was considerate enough to rub circles on your clit as he rammed into your insides in one single motion.

Your eyes went wide, snapping open and you tug the bite of your nails into the back of Keigo’s head, held by the burning stretch and pleasant ache of your insides.

Keigo had been fairly quiet during this entire ordeal, an odd thing considering he normally ran his mouth dry with praises, filth, and sweet nothings when he was half this close to your cunt. Yet, he’d hardly spoken through most of it, and most of your reading of him had been based on body (and wing language).

But, when he did finally bottom out, shaking and straining, it clicked.

Based on the sweat that was rolling down his temples, the veins bulging in his forearms, and the rigid tension in his shoulders, he was holding his rut-crazed body back.

You frowned, trying to ignore the kiss of his cock head against your cervix.

Recalling some of the things Keigo told you about some of his more animalistic desires, you decided to egg him on to breaking. Based on the rapid twitching of his wings, he needed it.

Keigo just barely moved, biting his lip and harshly exhaling.

“Baby,” Your own voice broke as you spoke, falling back into his mutant desires as well. “Please, please, fuck me how you need. Please.”

“S’fine, this is enough,” Keigo gritted out as he dragged his cock almost entirely out of your dripping cunt.

To emphasize your need, you grabbed a fistful of his feathers at the base of his wings and tugged, making sure to press your nails to the bone.

Keigo threw his head back, moaning high into the air, a coo mixing with the sound as his wings shuddered in your grip.

You buckled down.

“No,” You whined, hooking your legs behind the small of his back, thumbing at the plumage as he writhed from your touch. “Fuck me, like you mean it, Keigo. Fill me up.”

He paused, freezing, eyes darting up to your own.

“S-say that again.”

You grinned, dragging his stiff neck down to your mouth, dragging your tongue to his ear, “I said I want you to fill me up. Stuff me full of your cum and breed me so good, please, Kei’.”

You’d never spoken like that to him during sex, and you quickly understood why.

The moment the words left your lips, Keigo slammed his hips back into you, wings fanning out as wide as they could.

His lips found your neck, cock rearranging your insides with the immediate force and pace of his thrusts. His hands grappled at your hips, your tits, your shoulders, and your legs, anything to get to ram himself into you. Each thrust was punctuated by growls and clicks from the back of his throat, filthy words finally fell from his lips without a trace of shame.

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna breed you so good,” Keigo’s voice was breathy as he raked his nails down your neck, light lines following as he bottomed out in you once more. He roughly grabbed one of your tits, pinching your pebbled nipple. “Gonna make you gush for me, yeah, I am.”

You could’ve given an equally horny response, but Keigo’s tongue was quickly in your throat, groaning into your mouth as his pace picked up to something inhumane.

It was short-lived, the wet slapping of his heavy balls stalling as he damn near screamed into your mouth, coming deep in your throbbing cunt.

You shuddered, feeling his load already dripping from your cunt onto the sticky sheets below you.

Keigo’s lips parted from yours, half-lidded eyes looking glazed and dreamy.

You thought that nutting twice so closely together would slow him down, but you were remarkably wrong.

You rolled your hips up, smiling, “Feeling okay, Kei’?”

Keigo blinked down at you, lowering his head to nose at your jaw. You tilted your head for him, spine curling when you felt him begin to move again, still fully hard.

“I’m not done yet.” His words were curt and sharp as his arms caged around your head. The sharp peaks of his canines caught on the skin of your neck, dragging and sucking. “Gotta make sure you’re fucked nice and good with my brood, dove. So good.”

You swallowed, eyes rolling back when Keigo bit down at the base of your neck.

Keigo’s hips slammed back into yours, his pace picking up and the squelching of your slick and his cum ringing around the room. You could hardly focus on it, or anything as he quickly threw your legs over his shoulders, moving his licks and bites to your calves and thighs.

Your clit throbbed with each thrust, wet and craving contact. When you reached down to play with yourself, Keigo swatted your hand away with a growl, a red feather from the bed replacing it. The small, soft crimson feathers lapped at your clit, making quick circles as it became wet with slick.

With the hold on your legs, he hauled you upwards, your lower half lifted off the bed and held by only Keigo’s grip and the curve of your spine. You keened with each of his thrusts, listening to the wild words that spilled from his lips while he rammed your cunt raw.

They were mostly incoherent, half-sentences about how he was going to ‘breed you until he’s shooting blanks’, ‘fuck you full with his brood’ and ‘reem you until you grew feathers’. Each phrase got your breath going fast, his grip and pace forcing your lungs to fill faster and faster.

The feather against your cunt grew sloppier, nearly vibrating with its jerky movement. A well-timed swat to your clit by Keigo’s own hand while he talked about your ‘life-giving pussy’ was what sent you over the edge, cunt tightening around his cock.

His words reached peak incoherency as he rammed into your cervix, spilling into you with a harsh wail, wings stretching upwards and bumping against the ceiling.

You expected a moment of reprieve, but before you could even think, still spinning with your own orgasm, Keigo flipped you onto your tummy once more.

Despite signing up for this sort of treatment, your insides already ached. The friction of Keigo’s fat cock had stretched you perfectly, all for him, but the deep ache in your core was getting a bit distracting. This was not even mentioning how sore your muscles were getting, pulling from the pacing and positioning Keigo chose at whim.

You didn’t voice your pains, buckling down on your psyche (or, what you had left of it), as Keigo slid into you once more.

“Oh baby,” His voice was slippery as he wound his hands through your hair, pulling and forcing your back into a severe arch. “You feel that?”

He fucked into you harshly, the squelch that followed serving as a reminder of how he’d already more than filled you up.

“So pretty and round with my seed...” Keigo’s words got dreamy and slow, just for a moment as he smoothed his hand over your hips, “Just need to make sure it takes...”

The feather from earlier was back on you as he started up once more, babbling and flapping his massive wings as he fucked you numb.

You came as he did the next time, your legs giving way under the pressure and sensation. Keigo was quick to tsk, two more of his feathers moving to hold you up as he started to move again, cock never leaving your spent cunt.

The parts of your brain that were still working and not reduced to a pile of mush wondered how the fuck he was still hard, but all things considered, it shouldn’t have been surprising. Besides, he deserved to satiate himself properly, fucking your gushing cunt, considering he’d never gotten to indulge in his instincts like this before.

Despite how you burned all over, you let him finish inside you yet again.

And again.

And again?

You lost count at some point.

Keigo apparently really liked you face-down, ass-up, and kept you like that as he fucked you full over and over again. After having his taloned-hand stuck into your hair holding you to the duvet and pillows for so long, your head was spinning. What made all of this all the more overwhelming was the small feather that never fucking stopped moving—

“Kei’, please!” You screamed, voice hoarse and dry. You’re spinning, aching, and yet you still want more.

Keigo’s pace increases, using his wings to rut against your cervix over and over.

The tempo of the feather increased, Keigo’s growls falling away into his own shriek as he pushed forwards once more, hot cum spraying your walls all over again.

The sensations, all of them, pushed you over the edge, a shriek tearing from your throat as hot tears soaked the nest below. Your orgasm curled your toes to the point of pulling muscles, back bowing and straining as broiling pleasure swallowed you once more.

Keigo might’ve kept fucking you after that, you couldn’t really remember. With the plumes of feathers under your knees, he could’ve and you wouldn’t have known.

Your body and mind were spent, trying to keep up with his appetite. Your eyes rolled back behind your eyelids, and lucidity was gone to you.

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

You awoke to soft cooing sounds and the smell of sweat.

It was jarring, shifting the slightest bit and feeling aches and pains you didn’t even know you could have.

The cooing stuttered, falling into a chuckle.

Oh.

Keigo.

His rut.

Oh.

“Oh my god, Kei’, did you fuck me unconscious?” It came out almost as a growl, voice cracking and low.

A hand carded through your hair as you opened your eyes, taking in the state of yourself, Keigo, and the nest.

You were both sweaty, sticky and smelling all sorts of musky. It was intoxicating, lulling you. It must’ve been those pheromones that Keigo had mentioned way back when.

Keigo had nestled you to his chest, wings spread behind him and shimmering. The windows outside showed only the neon of the city below, night having long since fallen.

He beamed down at you with a clear fondness, a lot of the tension gone from his body, and looking significantly less stressed. But, there was a sad quirk in his brow.

“Sorry about that, angel, I got kind of out of hand there,” Keigo replied sheepishly, smile turning a little sad.

You frowned.

You couldn’t have him thinking that.

“Nope, no, not at all,” You pushed yourself on an elbow, wincing at the pain, but recovering to peppering his stubbly chin and cheeks with kisses. “None of that, silly. I am happy to help, whatever that entails. I love you, you know?”

Keigo relaxed even more, falling against the nest and pulling you to his chest, “You gotta stop being so sweet, dove. Gonna get me riled up again.”

You hummed, kissing the tip of his nose, “That’s more than fine, just rub my shoulders a bit first. I think I pulled something.”

He kissed at your sweaty hair, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, “I’m more than happy too, dove. Thank you.”

His hands met your shoulders, rubbing at the sore muscles, careful to avoid pressing his talons into the skin.

You heard him say so softly, more to himself than to you, “I’m gonna keep you so safe.”

The grin that came across your face rivaled the sun in its brightness and honey with its sweetness. You melted into his touch, dissolving blissfully into the smells and feel of your nest.

Keigo left kiss after kiss against soreness, cooing and clicking as his rut-based needs were more than met.

For once.

#salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo x y/n #feral hawks #mha x reader #mha smut #bnha x reader #hawks smut #hawks #takami keigo #keigo x y/n #reader x hawks #you x hawks #dont call me a furry for this one but damn im tredding the line #bnha smut

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harrywritingsbyme · 4 years ago

Note

If it’s not too much to ask but 🥺 can we get (y/n) sinking her nails into Harry’s back, leaving deep marks and scratches from his shoulder down to his mid back during sex. So the next day, she notices Harry is winces a bit and when she goes to lift up his shirt. She shocked to see so many bruises so now she feels terrible and offer to give him a soothing massage with some cream to make up for hurting him please 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Scratches

A/N: I was clearing out my inbox when i stumbled across this concept. I thought that this was so cute and a lil bit spicy. So I decided to do something with it...Enjoy🙃

Things got a little bit crazy last night. After a long day for both you and Harry, a night of being tangled up in each other was extremely welcomed. The two of you just went back and forth all night long, taking each other in just about every position imaginable. The only break in between you two going at it was to eat dinner. And even in the process of making it, Harry took you right against the counter. To put it simply, it was a great night for the two of you. And despite the fact that you both were exerting energy moving your bodies against each other’s, you and Harry had no complaints whatsoever. Especially you. Throughout the night you made countless offers to take control and focus in on Harry and pleasuring him. Now he did give in, but that was only once. The other offers you made were met with really sharp and deep thrusts, along grunts from him telling you to shush. Which you did in fact do, just with your offers to focus on him a bit; not your moans. Those, you simply could not control.

There was literally no way that you could possibly hold back the screams, whimpers, and moans that left your mouth as a result of Harry’s relentless thrusts into you. It didn’t matter what position you were in either. You could’ve been on your back or on your front, you never failed to scream your lungs out, squirm, and claw at whatever was in your reach from the pleasure Harry was slamming into you. The only difference between the two would be what you dug your nails into. When you were lying on your front, taking Harry’s cock from behind, you always clung to the sheets around you if your arms weren’t pinned to your lower back and used as leverage to sharpen his thrusts even more. But when you’re on your back, you cling to Harry. Unless your arms are pinned above your head, your arms are around him and your nails are subconsciously digging into his shoulders and back. You didn’t mean to, it just happened.

Harry was on top of you giving you one of the best (even though every time made that list) poundings you’d ever received from him. Not only was it deep rough and fast, it was also hard. As he shoved his cock down into you, he was quick with the movements and he made sure to push himself as deep as possible with every thrust. When doing so, Harry was lifting as much of his body as possible up just to slam all the way back down into you. This meant that he was pounding his cock into your stomach and his lower body, particularly his thighs, down into yours. He was also doing this while you were positioned in a way below him that had your legs pushed up towards your chest, resulting in your cunt being lifted a bit from the bed, which allowed him to slam down to you even better.

As he did this you were losing any shred of composure you had left in your body. You loved the incredibly balanced mixture of pain and pleasure Harry was giving to you. Your thighs were practically being torn apart as he slammed himself down into you and tore your walls apart with his cock. To make it even better, while he was showing zero mercy to your cunt and entire body for that matter, Harry was simultaneously moaning into your ear about how good it felt to pound into your perfect walls, and he even went on and on about how much he loved you (and your pussy of course). And believe it or not, it was really nice to know that he loved you to pieces while he was actively fucking you like he hated you and tearing the area below your waist to pieces.

Fast forward to this morning and you were unsurprisingly sore from you guys’ late night activities. But before you can even recognize or acknowledge your soreness, Harry wakes up before you do. When he does, he also feels a level of soreness in his thighs and his back. But instead of fretting about it, a pretty smug smirk spreads across his face and his mind begins to wander back to everything that transpired last night. And judging by the little bit of soreness he’s feeling, he could only imagine how sore you were feeling. He did go pretty hard if he had to assess the the entire night.

After about 10 more minuets of in your words “being a stalker” (he considers it admiring) and watching you sleep while recalling the bits and pieces of last night, Harry finally decides to wake you up. It starts off with little kisses and coos into your ear, but seeing as you were knocked out, he was going to have to amp up his tactics. His gentle strokes to your back through your t-shirt turn into shakes and his voice gets a little louder. Eventually you do wake up with a couple grumbles of course before directing your attention to Harry.

“Good morning beautiful.” Harry hums, reaching his hand out to cradle the side of your head that wasn’t nestled into the pillow below.

“I’m not the one who looks like a literal god first thing in the morning but good morning to you too babe.” You reply, sending him a wide close lipped smile.

“I strongly beg to differ on that one. But in other news, last night was fun.” Harry hums, sending a wide and smug grin your way.

“Yeah, so much fun that i’ll be slowly regaining feeling from the waist down for the rest of the day.” You reply matter of factly. Even though you were trying to be smart, you did have an amazing time with Harry last night. It was so good that you could guarantee that it would be imprinted in your brain for a very long time, like forever. But even though you were still on cloud nine a little bit, you were also coming to grips with the soreness down there. Harry really did a number on you.

“Want a painkiller?” Harry pouts towards you.

“Please?” You whisper back softly. You’d take just about anything right now. Once you respond, Harry stokes your cheek one last time before moving to sit up and grab your painkillers. When he does this though, you notice that a wince leaves his mouth. Your mind instantly leaves your impending pain killers and goes right to Harry, you needed to figure out what was going on. When you see him reach towards his back, your first instinct is to lift up his shirt. And when you do, you’re met with red scratches littering his skin. “Oh my goodness babe!” You gasp, taking in all of the red scratches you’d left. Apparently you did a number on Harry too. “M’so sorry, I didn’t mean to scratch you up. It just felt so good I couldn’t help myself.” You apologize sorrowful behind him.

“S’fine babe, at least I know that m’doing my job.” Harry chuckles, shuffling around the edge of the bed to face you.

“I feel so bad though.” You sigh softly back to him. You liked a little bit of pain, but you didn’t want Harry to go through it if he didn’t ask.

“Consider us even now. I always leave bruises and marks whenever we go at it and I always leave you a bit sore down there, even more so now.” Harry tries to reassure you, bringing his hand below the covers to softly wrap his hand around one of your thighs.

“But you didn’t ask for it.” You reiterate. “At least let me give you a little massage.” You offer.

“Well I’m telling you now that I don’t mind you scratching and biting one bit. I actually like it.” He continues to reassure, giving you a light squeeze in the process. But that wasn’t going to cut it. “But if you wanna make it up to me, I guess you can rub me down with some of the soothing lotion we have in the bathroom.” Harry concedes before getting up and heading to the bathroom to grab the painkillers and the tube of soothing cream. When he comes back with the items, you promptly begin to sit up and get yourself ready to take care of him.

“Alright, how do you want me?” Harry asks, sitting the pill bottle on the bedside table and handing you the ointment.

“On your front please. And take off your shirt too” You instruct as you slowly maneuver yourself around on the bed. Per your instruction, Harry tugs his shirt up and off of his body, leaving him completely naked before getting back onto the bed and lying flat on his front with his head burrowed into the pillows. After he’s all situated, you scoot in closer to him before lifting yourself to sit back on your calves. Normally you would straddle his waist but you were just too sore for that.

You then pick the tube of ointment from the bed, twisting the cap off before squeezing a good amount into your hand and placing the ointment back down. Now before you bring your hands down to Harry’s skin, you move the cream back and forth between your hands to warm it up a little bit. You wanted Harry to be as comfortable as possible. Once your palms are completely covered, you bring your hands to his shoulders and you begin working the product into his skin. As soon as your hands begin moving around on his shoulders, Harry instantly relaxes. Whenever you gave him little massages like this, he always felt good. Your hands were like magic when it came to his body. You knew exactly how much pressure to put on him and where to apply it. Like right now, you were expertly digging your palms into his shoulders and neck as you spread the ointment out.

“Feel good baby?” You coo down to him, continuing to spread the ointment across his skin.

“So good.” Harry mumbles incoherently, being too engrossed in how good your hands felt on him to give you an understandable answer. As your hands continue on their journey down and across his back, Harry can feel himself awakening in other parts of his body. As if he didn’t get enough action the previous night, Harry’s cock begins to stir a bit against the bed. He wasn’t trying to get Hard, it’s just that your hands felt beyond amazing against him. After a couple more minuets of working your way down, your hands get closer to the dip in his back.

“Are there any other places where you’re sore?” You ask, stopping your movements to wait for an answer.

“Can you get the backs of my thighs a little?” He asks, his tone a little on the timid side. He knew that you were sore as well, so he didn’t want to ask for much because of that.

“Of course!” You reply, continuing to squeeze and dig your hands into his skin. You do this all the way down, paying attention to everything. You even spend a little time on his backside, which inevitably causes a few moans to fall from his mouth. When you get to his thighs, you really focus in on easing some of the tension in that area and relaxing him. And you did just that. Harry was on fire��but in a relaxed way. You were driving his cock crazy with the way your worked those hands of yours into him, but he was also very relaxed and ready to fall back asleep.

“Feels so good.” Harry slurs, enjoying every last drop of your massage.

“M’glad baby. Now flip over so I can get the front.” You instruct, softly tapping his backside to get him going.

“You don’t have to baby, we can just cuddle now. Know you’re sore too.” He offers. Harry was perfectly fine with what you gave him, which was way more than what he needed right now considering the fact that you were sorer than him.

“Just let me get your chest then.” You bargain. You just wanted to make him feel good. When he turns over to face you, your eyes are immediately drawn to his cock that was swelling in his lap.

“S’just that your hands feel so good.” Harry explains once he sees you staring down towards his cock.

“M’just glad you’re enjoying it babe.” You hum. You liked seeing the good results of your work. “How about I suck you off after we take a nap.” You suggest, bringing your hands up to his shoulders to massage them a bit.

“Only if you let me massage you once we wake up.” He barters back.

“You have a deal.” You agree.

“Good, now c’mere.” Harry says, lifting the sides of your face to pull you down to his.

How could you not love a little pain mixed with pleasure?!

Masterlist

#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #my harry writing #harry styles x y/n #concepts of h #harrywritingsbyme

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uvobreakmylegs · 4 years ago

Text

Compliance

another fic inspired by the opening scene of a horror movie. This time it’s Feitan being awful

Warnings: torture, graphic depictions of violence, graphic imagery, blood, slight smut, Feitan makes the reader do awful shit

“Stop screaming. We've barely gotten started.”

Feitan's words went unnoticed by the man strapped to the table beneath him, who yelled and struggled at his bonds as he tried to escape the hot poker Feitan was pressing against his side. You weren't sure who the man was; Feitan hadn't told you anything other than to get downstairs, and you'd done so without question. It was a scenario you were used to by now, and experience had taught you that if you just went along with it you were more likely to get out of this particular instance unscathed.

So when Feitan had kicked the struggling man into that torture room, the most you did was flinch at the noise. Trying to help the man would be a wasted effort and would just make Feitan upset with you, and you had no desire to give him any excuse to add to the scars that littered your skin.

You sat quietly in the corner as Feitan roughed the man up, stripping him from the waist up before he was strapped to the familiar metal table that sat in the center of the room.

It was sad that you were used to such things now. That he had shown you so much violence, so much darkness that resided within one man's soul, that you had become numb to it. It hadn't been like that at the beginning. Originally he needed to strap you to that chair to make you watch, and you cried and screamed at the things you saw. There had even been times where you had begged for the lives of those being tortured, and the results of doing so had been disastrous for both you and his victim as Feitan interpreted that as you having feelings for them. Those unfortunates were forced to linger on for days before they were granted the mercy of death, while the scars, bites and bruises he left on your skin increased in number.

Just don't say anything and get through it as best you can.

And that had worked for a time. You stayed as a silent observer in your corner while Feitan worked, only getting up when he had given you permission to do so. Do as he says and you won't get hurt.

But this time was going to be different.

Only a week ago he had confronted you, telling you that he wanted you to do more. When you'd asked him what that meant, he had rolled his eyes and answered “I'm not content with you just watching while I work anymore. I want you to assist me.”

It took a few seconds to realize that he was telling you to help torture people, and your throat seized up as you stared at him dumbly. Feitan just ignored your reaction, continuing by telling you that he'd let you choose what you wanted to do, that it could be as simple as taking out an eyeball or breaking a finger.

“I could even mark where you should cut,” he said mockingly, “would you like that? I paint the man, you cut the lines?”

You wouldn't be able to stomach doing the things that he did to people. But there was no way you would be able to talk your way out of this; there was nothing you could do once Feitan had made up his mind.

His musings on the tortures you would be able to perform got gradually more gruesome the longer he continued, and you needed to say something before he became upset with your lack of response and just chose for you. And with him, he would choose the worst thing he could think of.

Then your suggestion had spilled from your lips before you could really think about it, interrupting him. He paused and asked you to repeat yourself. You did so, and though it was hard to tell with the bandanna he wore, his facial expression didn't change, but you caught the slight glint in his eyes.

“..... Interesting.”

Feitan turned to leave the room, stopping only once to look back over at you while you tried not to have a panic attack as you second-guessed yourself and what you had volunteered yourself for.

“Teeth, huh?”

The hammer was heavy on your lap. The chisel was as well, but the hammer was a solid weight on your legs that you had to constantly readjust to try and feel comfortable, the gravity making it weigh like an anchor as you waited for Feitan to call you to his side.

By now Feitan had tossed the poker aside in favor of a new torture device, one that resembled a pair of pliers that he used to start the removal of the man's fingernails. The man screamed every time they were pulled out with a sickening rip, his struggles beginning anew when Feitan turned to deposit the nails into a small metal bowl to the side of him.

Feitan had barely looked at you this whole time and you hadn't been called up yet. A small, naive part of you hoped that you wouldn't have to. After all, you rationalized, the thing he wanted from you wouldn't help in interrogating the man – if anything, it would hinder it. Sometimes, when his victims were stubborn enough, they would hold out against the pain for as long as humanly possible, and that stubbornness would drive Feitan into such a rage that he would prolong their suffering long into the night, not being satisfied until he had put them through everything they were physically capable of and getting the satisfaction of watching the light in their eyes fade. It enraged him for anyone to defy him like that, and he wanted the pleasure of bringing them pain to belong to him and him alone. Maybe this man would be like that. It would mean immense pain for him, and you would need to sit there the entire time, but that way you wouldn't need to play any further part in this. But even as you silently begged the man to stay strong, you had a sinking feeling that you wouldn't be getting out of this. The man was a wreck, voice hoarse with tears and saliva streaming down the sides of his face as he begged for the torture to end.

Feitan reached the thumb of the man's left hand when he couldn't take it any more.

“I'll talk!” the man screeched, “I'll tell you whatever you want to know, but for the love of God, stop please!”

“Then talk,” Feitan answered, calmly setting down the pliers and leaning back while the man gasped for breath.

“Lie, and it'll be much worse,” he added.

The man nodded desperately, eager to please for the sake of his life. Meanwhile you sat with a pit forming in your stomach. Your eyes went back to the tools sitting in your lap and you would have let out a small sigh if you weren't worried that Feitan might notice.

“Th-the info was given to me by a-a woman! Her n-name was Marceline, I think!” the man yelled.

“You 'think'?” Feitan asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I-I know it was! That was her name!” the man insisted as his eyes grew wide on realizing his mistake.

“She's an older woman! Red hair, with a scar on her neck. She told me to feed that information to the troupe!” he continued.

“And you gave us that rotten info knowing it was a lie?”

“I-I just-!”

“You were hoping we'd fall for that trap, right? That none of us would come after you because we'd be dead,” Feitan's cold voice cut through.

“Too bad you're unlucky.”

The man flinched when Feitan picked the pliers back up.

“Please! I've told you everything!” he begged.

“I know.”

There was confusion in that man's eyes when Feitan turned his back on him, walking over to a shelf to place the bloody pliers. The man looked to you as he had done several times since the interrogation had started, confusion in his eyes as he tried to get some clue as to what was going to happen to him.

When Feitan spoke again, his words were directed at you.

“Get over here.”

The hammer and chisel hung at your sides as you stood, the hammer's weight pulling down on your dominant arm and making it hang slightly lower as you approached the table. Feitan walked towards it as well, a new device in hand while the man's protests began again, begging to be let go.

“I've told you everything!” he repeated.

“You said that,” Feitan answered, clearly annoyed.

“Then let me go! I'll do whatever you say, whatever the troupe wants, but don't hurt me anymore!”

Feitan tsked.

“Pathetic. So much bravado earlier, and now this.”

He wrenched the man's jaw open and slipped in a metal piece that fitted itself to either side of his mouth, forcing his mouth to stay open when Feitan's hands pulled away.

“What happens now isn't for the troupe. It's for my own pleasure,” he said.

His hands went into his pockets, and he glanced to you across the table.

“Your turn.”

They were words that you had been dreading, and your palms felt sweaty as you gripped the hammer to your chest, taking in deep breaths to try and calm yourself. The man was looking up at you, his eyes practically bulging out of his skull as he pleaded for you to stop, though the words weren't easy to understand with the way his lips had been forced open.

Feitan spoke your name in a warning tone and you bit your lip – if he needed to say anything else it would mean punishment for you.

Slowly, you lifted the chisel and placed the edge against the top of his central incisors. You couldn't stop the trembling in your hand and the chisel rattled against his teeth; to you it seemed like it echoed through the room.

When you lifted the hammer the man was red in the face, screaming at you to stop. You wished you could apologize to him, just let out a quick “I'm sorry” for what little it was worth. But Feitan wouldn't like that. And if you took any longer to get this started he would do something unspeakable to you.

You lifted the hammer over your head.

'Gravity does most of the work,' you told yourself. Like that helped.

You swung it down.

The crack that sounded reverberated in your ears as you stood petrified, watching the man beneath you writhe in pain after three of his teeth managed to fly out of his mouth, blood gushing from the open wounds. With the angle you had hit it them, some of the teeth behind the ones you had knocked out looked slightly askew and you looked back to the hammer, noting just how substantial its weight was.

“Do it again.”

Feitan's voice cut through your confused thoughts, and you rushed to comply, adjusting the chisel again without looking at him. He still sounded annoyed.

It sounded like the man was trying to beg you to stop again, but you ignored him as you swung your hammer again, taking out a canine and some of his premolars. They managed to fly out of his mouth again and hit the metal table sounding like pieces of hail on a car. You took less time to compose yourself after that, switching to the other side of his mouth and swinging again.

Even though he was practically out of his mind with pain, there was a hatred in the man's eyes as he looked up at you. It was hard to blame him for that, and you wished you had an excuse to stop, but fear of Feitan kept you in check as it usually did.

With the top gum having been turned into a mess of missing and broken teeth, you switched to the lower set. You were halfway done, you told yourself. Just a few more swings and then this would be over.

It wouldn't be, but hopefully your part in it would be ended.

You hit one of his bottom canines and a few drops of blood had somehow managed to spatter onto your cheek. Instinctively you set the hammer down, wiping at your face with a shaky hand. At least that gave you an reason for taking a break.

Feitan had been quiet since his last order, and throughout this you had been too scared to even look at him, fearing that might trigger him into some sort of action against you. But as the man gasped in pain, against your better judgment you looked over across the table.

Maybe it was because of your victim's screams, or just the way your heart pounded in your ears, but you didn't realize how heavily he was breathing until you looked at him. He had changed positions when you weren't looking, gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were turning white, his figure completely rigid and his eyes practically burning a hole in you, excitement dancing in that normally cold gaze.

Was he.... Aroused by this?

You snapped your head back to the man, whose protests had become weaker, only able to let out strained noises that vaguely resembled the word “no”. Picking up the hammer, you raised it once again. Just a little bit more, and then it'd be over. You could go back to your corner and let the numbness carry you through the rest of this scene.

Feitan's breathing was still audible.

The man's tongue was still moving, trying to form words to appeal to you.

The blood from the holes in his gums dripped down to the back of his throat, making him choke and cough up onto the now bloody edge of the chisel.

The amount of blood in that man's mouth.

And you were the one who did this to him.

“I'm going to throw up.”

The words barely escape your lips before you practically drop the hammer and chisel and rush out of the room, sprinting up the concrete steps to try and make it to the bathroom in time.

It was one of the few small mercies Feitan granted you, that you could leave if you felt like you were going to be sick. Turns out, for a man who tortures people for a living, Feitan had no tolerance for vomit.

But it was a small mercy with a stipulation: you needed to come right back after you were finished. And he would typically wait for your return before he continued, intent on you witnessing everything.

As you threw up the meal you had eaten earlier, the bile already a clear taste in your mouth, your mind went back to the image of that man, and how you could count that Feitan would make you finish what you had started. All you could hope for at this moment was that he wouldn't be too upset with you leaving in the middle of it.

Surprisingly, he was waiting for you outside of the bathroom. Though he seemed calmer now, you looked down to the floor immediately after your eyes met.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered, fiddling with your fingers, “I just needed a break. I'll go back down.”

“Don't bother,” he said, stopping you just as you made a move to walk past him.

“You did well enough. I'll let you off the hook for the rest of it.”

You nodded in response, but said nothing: whatever small mercy this is, there's going to be a catch somewhere.

“Go back to the bedroom. Undress, and wait for me.”

And there it is.

You looked back up at him, and while his posture was relaxed, that excitement you had seen earlier is still present in his gaze. So you were right that he was aroused, though perhaps at this point you shouldn't be too surprised about it.

“Okay.”

Feitan was already walking back to the basement stairway, and you wondered if he was going to kill that man downstairs, or set something up so that he was suffering even while Feitan had his way with you. For the sake of that soul down there, you hoped it was the former.

“Make sure you brush your teeth before I come back up,” he ordered.

He didn't take long to come back to the bedroom, spatters of blood visible on his dark clothes as he stalked towards your form while you sat still on the bed. His clothing was quickly removed and thrown to the floor, forgotten as Feitan used two blood-stained fingers to lift up your jaw and bring you into a chaste kiss.

The goosebumps that had formed on your arms while you had waited in the cold quickly vanished as he pushed you to your back, crawling over you to let his bloody hands trail over your body, tracing your healed scars while marking your skin with smears of that unfortunate man's blood. He kissed you again; this time it was more demanding and you opened your mouth in submission, the taste of cleansing mint still present as he dove his tongue in.

His hard length entered you shortly after and he started at a rough pace that had you grasping at the sheets, letting out small shrieks when he would lean down to bite you.

You would be hurting in the morning, but it was better to just go along with what he wanted.

He could do far worse than this.

#feitan portor #hxh feitan #yandere x reader #yandere hxh #yandere #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere feitan #reader insert #feitan x reader #if anyone caught the amnesia reference I'm proud of you

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

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Here to Misbehave (Pt. 21 | S.R.)

Summary: Unfortunately, a new case couldn’t have come at a worse time for Reader, who’s starting to feel that dysphoria Spencer’s always warning her about. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Adults w/ Age Gap (10yr), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, BDSM, Daddy Kink, D/s relationship, degradation, brief mention of consensual dub-con, aftercare included, Sub Drop! Word Count: 6k

MASTERLIST

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The television was playing for itself, the sounds only serving as the background soundtrack to Spencer’s lips as he kissed his way down my neck and over my shoulder. I wanted to be angry or annoyed, but each time his mouth met my skin, my body gave in to him.

And when you gave this mouse a cookie, he took everything else with it. Within a single second of my hips rocking back against him as we lay together on the couch, Spencer’s fingers dug into my hip, forcing me against his painfully obvious erection.

“Spencer!” I whined while my hips continued to move with him, “You said you would watch the movie.”

I had known it was a lie when he said it. We both knew it was always going to end like this. But at the same time, I enjoyed teasing him over the fact that out of the two of us that night, he was the one who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

“Then tell me to stop,” he slurred between his kisses that were sure to leave bruises behind. “Tell me that you don’t want me to do this.”

We both also knew there would be no protest from me, and yet Spencer deemed it necessary to continue to shift the odds further in his favor. The same hand that had pulled me to grind against him pushed forward at a torturous pace until it slid into my underwear.

Once the soft whimper left my mouth, he knew he had won. He’d barely even touched me, and I was already a mess. The flashing colors on the LCD in front of me looked just like the backs of my eyelids. I could hardly tell if my eyes were even open anymore.

“How quickly you change your mind when I do this,” Spencer breathed into my ear as he finally slipped a finger inside of me. “I might be flattered if I didn’t know any better.”

It wasn’t the first time we’d had sex since the disaster; it had been a few weeks since, although it had felt like a lifetime. A lifetime that led us back to where we’d begun, wound so tightly together that my mind couldn’t follow his hands or his lips as they traveled wherever they could, memorizing the way each muscle tensed and twitched in response to his ministrations.

“Please, I—“

“Please what?” he ordered, “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Whatever you want.”

There was nothing else to say. It was, apparently, both the right and the wrong answer. I say that it was right because I felt his cock twitch against my backside, and I heard the way the breath shuddered from his lungs. But it was also wrong, because I could hear his teeth clack shut and grind together as he growled, “Do you know what you’re asking for, little girl?”

I wanted to be a brat— to remind him how well-acquainted I was with his methods, and that he’d really mostly been all bark and no bite— but something in the rough drag of his finger against my walls made me pause.

So, I said nothing. That wasn’t the right answer, either.

Everything about him became more feral with every passing second. His breath fanned against my ear and burned my already heated skin. When he spoke, the words felt similarly laced with a heat and rage that almost seemed foreign, “Do you have any idea how many filthy, disgusting things I’ve dreamed about doing to you while I couldn’t touch you?”

What was I meant to say? My throat was closing around any options, insistent that my mouth could only make mistakes right now. I could hardly coordinate my lips to my mind, let alone say something witty. And Spencer hardly seemed in the mood for my usual bratty behavior.

My mind flashed back to the last time he was like this. At the time, it had been a result of something terrible. But this time? I think it was actually a part of something beautiful. Despite the trouble that had originally led to him shoving my face into the sheets so he could find some relief, I couldn’t deny that it had felt good to be that reprieve for him.

I couldn’t imagine how good it would feel this time, with no hurt between us except the kind I trusted him to administer.

“Tell me,” I whispered.

“I have a better idea,” he answered quick enough for me to question if he had actually read my mind. Removing his fingers suddenly, I swear I heard a laugh as he whispered, “Let me show you.”

My vision rocked as my body flipped, and before I knew it my hands were scrambling to grab something, anything, to regain control of the situation before I tumbled off the couch. But I should have known better; Spencer wasn’t going to let me fall.

Just as my nails dug into the cushions, he dropped his weight onto my back. I struggled to breathe for a number of reasons, including the fact his fingers had once again found their way into my underwear.

“Remember the last time you let me use you?” he chuckled, bringing his other arm up to cage me in even closer. “You looked so fucking pathetic. Shaking and begging, even as I split you open.”

The only thing I could do was whine and wonder how he managed to maneuver the little space between me and the couch. If he was still worried about hurting me, he didn’t make it obvious. Nothing about him was gentle; he was ruthless and insistent in the most satisfying ways. As he ran his finger back over my sex, a groan rumbled through his chest.

“And you pretended like this isn’t what you wanted? You’re a filthy liar. You’re practically dripping, little girl.”

“Please—” I tried to appeal, but he must have heard it in my voice. I didn’t want him to stop any more than he wanted to. And he didn’t. With all the force I knew him capable of, Spencer’s free hand covered the back of my head, which he promptly shoved down against the cushion.

“I don’t want to hear your stupid fucking excuses,” he spat, his words laced with greed and vitriol that made my stomach and heart do flips in my chest. “Give me your safe word right now,” he ordered, “before I change my mind and leave you a disgusting, whimpering mess right here.”

I turned my face just enough to breathe, loving the way the friction felt on my already flushed cheeks. “S-Starship,” I said through a pleased gasp.

“Look at that. You aren’t completely clueless,” he laughed.

There were no words for how it felt to be crushed beneath his weight while his fingers worked inside me. I still couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t want to, either. It was just another reminder that he didn’t need his hand around my neck to take anything away from me. I was helpless to his whims, and in that cage, I’d never felt freer.

Still, his hands managed to switch between doting and domineering, and he almost seemed merciful when he cooed, “So then what’s your excuse for lying to me? For pretending like you weren’t begging me to do this?”

“I don’t have one, sir,” I slurred, my lips dragging on the cushion with every movement. I could hardly focus on that, though, when Spencer’s weight was lifted from my back. My lungs quickly tried to fill with deep, desperate gasps.

“Wrong answer, little girl.”

The oxygen I did manage to bring in left just as fast when he grabbed my hip, lifting my bottom half until my knees were settled on the couch and my arms were bent by my head. Even when he started to tug my pants and underwear down my legs, he kept his other hand thrusting rhythmically between my legs. I could feel how close I was to losing myself completely to him. I didn’t even fight it, letting all the keening cries and whimpers fall from my lips without any hesitation.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” I sobbed, keeping my face down as hard as I could while I started to shake. But then his fingers stopped, slowly dragging out of me and dragging a wet finger down my leg.

“‘Daddy’ isn’t going to get you out of this one,” he growled.

The burning in my body was unbearable. I couldn’t even push myself back against him or appeal to him in any way. His hand splayed over one cheek dug into the skin and I felt the crescent shapes as they dutifully marked my skin. They were followed by the snapping sound of a firm slap against skin.

There would be so many marks, but all I could think of was how I wanted more.

“I’m sorry,” I cried again, trying to look up at him with that pitiful pout he loved to see.

“No,” he corrected, “You think you’re sorry now, but you aren’t. You will be, though.”

There was no other warning, no further preparation for the feeling of him stretching me open. He was kind enough to move slowly at first, although that tenderness was contrasted by the way he left welts in the wake of his hands, which trailed down my back at the same torturous pace.

Once we were entirely connected, he let his hand drift over my jaw, brushing my hair out of my eyes. I couldn’t keep our gazes together for too long. It felt dangerous, like looking directly at a predator. A challenge to his authority.

But where else could I look, if not at him? My eyes immediately fell forward at the reflection of the two of us in the glass panes of the entertainment console. What I saw sent a shiver down my spine as my desire reached impossible heights.

Spencer felt it, too.

“Go ahead and watch yourself,” he said with equal parts cruelty and kindness, “Watch what you make me do to you.”

So I did. I watched the way his hips carefully pulled away just to snap forward again, burying himself in me and eliciting a pained cry from my throat. Each thrust went just like that, with him bottoming out with a small jolt of pain. I couldn’t complain though, not when I saw the way his head fell back and a moan tore through his chest.

He was beautiful like this. Completely unhinged, animalistic, and… different. Every time I’d found myself at the receiving end of his pent up rage, I wondered which of his personas he related to more, the cool collected FBI agent or the sensual and cocky dominant. Or hell, even the awkward, insecure dork he was at his most comfortable. I was sure that my answer changed with the days, but I couldn’t ignore the freedom we both seemed to achieve in moments like this.

“Spencer,” I whined, my legs pressing back against him. I just wanted to feel him all. I wanted to take him in and keep him safe in my arms. But he was in a less than romantic mood, and before his name could fall again, he cut me off.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Daddy,” I corrected. My eyes left the reflection long enough to glance up and spot his cheeky little smirk.

“Good girl,” he praised. The words caused even more pleasure than the rest of him as he continued to fuck me into the couch. “That’s the only word I want to hear from you. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut.”

I tried to nod, but his hand returned to my head, pushing me harder into the cushion. Immediately, my instincts kicked in, causing my whole body to squirm underneath him. It wasn’t that I was necessarily trying to get away from him, but for a brief moment, I struggled to regain some control. But that seemed to only encourage Spencer’s desire to completely dominate every inch of me.

His hands only got tighter and his movements rougher as he sighed, “Enough. I want to enjoy this.”

Eventually, that fight left me. My body settled into the couch and felt the warmth of his thighs pressed against me and the still growing friction of the fabric on my skin. I focused all attention on the way we looked, lost in each other and the bliss we were creating on a dreary Friday night.

I had no idea how much time passed, but it felt like a lifetime that would never be enough. Every inch of me was brimming with love. I could feel it, the tingling covering me like a sheet. With each thrust of his hips, I felt impossibly closer to Spencer.

But the fight started to leave him, too. That darkness had spread between the two of us and dissipated in the process. All that was left was the two of us, tangled together with his movements beginning to falter.

“That’s it, little girl. You’re doing so good,” he groaned, his jaw clenching shut as he tried to fill hungry lungs without stopping. “I’m almost done. Just hold on a little while longer.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I replied, surprised by the tremble in the words. We were both so tired, so ready to fall apart and come back together again in the aftermath.

And that’s exactly what happened. Spencer waited until he felt the telltale tremors right before I peaked. He rubbed the marks he’d left moments before and repeated my name over and over until I was on the brink of tears and something else.

“That’s it, little girl,” he whispered again, “Let go. Daddy’s got you.”

The words were like magic. With just five words, Spencer brought me with him over the edge. He dropped his hand to mine still gripping the couch, holding onto it as his body tensed above me.

I could feel each muscle as it twitched before it calmed. I could feel everything, every point of contact all at once. I felt the way he filled me from inside and dug his teeth into my shoulder. I wanted to take that moment in forever, to never be farther away from him than I was right then.

But we couldn’t. Time rudely continued without our permission, and once he regained his strength, he pulled out of me so gently I had to laugh at the juxtaposition.

“Don’t move yet, beautiful. Stay right here,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss onto my head before he left me shaking and panting on the couch. Thankfully he had the decency and self-preservation to hurry before we made too much of a mess. Lord knows I didn’t want to spend our time together removing any hint of what we’d done in our time alone.

Then again, I did love the way he cared for me after. There was no way to really describe it— the love that was in his touch during the aftercare. I soaked in the pure elation I derived from his adoration, closing my eyes and trusting him to put me back together.

After he’d dressed me and positioned me just like a doll, my eyes finally opened again.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked, already busy working to massage my tired, angry muscles.

“No,” I murmured. I didn’t realize just how tired I was until I could barely get through the word. The panic set in again, and Spencer narrowed his eyes as he sat me up to inspect my face from a closer distance. It seemed silly, though, to look down at him on his knees in front of me right after he’d done everything he could to dominate me.

But then here he was, worshiping and worrying over me.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, just a bit delirious,” I explained through a yawn.

“I’ll take care of you. Lay down,” he urged as he helped me back down on the couch. When he kissed my forehead that time, I could tell he wasn’t just trying to show me affection.

My suspicions were confirmed when he wordlessly left my side, only to return with a thermometer and a bottle of water. Through laughs, I slurred, “What are you doing?”

“Taking your temperature,” he said like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Sexy.”

He laughed with me, then, although I could tell it didn’t do much for his nerves. “I want to make sure I didn’t aggravate your wound,” he muttered with more guilt than I thought was possible. It broke my heart, to hear him speak through such a pathetic little pout. It was my turn to lay on the praise, although we both knew I’d never be quite as good at it as he was.

“I’m okay, Spencer. Seriously. I’m just tired and…” my words fell off as I tried to put the feeling into words. That comfortable, buzzing blankness that came from only the most powerful catharsis. I ran my fingers over his cheek while I thought, and giggled at the way he pressed harder into my touch. The words came to me so naturally then.

“I’m just thinking about how much I love you.”

With a small nod, Spencer accepted my answer… with some conditions.

“You have to drink a whole bottle of water and give me at least ten kisses before I let you sleep,” he shyly mumbled against my palm that he’d dragged over his mouth.

“You drive a hard bargain, old man,” I whispered, tossing my arms around his shoulders. He caught me before I fell, just like he always did. Together, the two of us stayed twisted up as we stumbled through the halls to my room. I truthfully had no idea how he managed to have any coordination, but I was grateful for it.

Once he had me tucked into the sheets, he took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. I tried to give him something better to look at, but all that I could muster was a dopey smile and a bit of a laugh. He still seemed to appreciate it, nonetheless.

“Stay awake. I’ll be right back,” he instructed, pulling the blankets up around my shoulders one more time before he pointed to the bottle on the bedside. “And drink that water!”

I tried to listen— really, I did— but I mostly ended up almost spilling the water down my chest as I sat up to sip at it. I had to focus all my energy on the first order to stay awake, and I was dangerously close to failing at it when Spencer walked back into the room with a thermos in his hands.

“What’s that?” I laughed, pleasantly surprised by how nice the warm cup felt against my still shaking hands.

“Hot chocolate.”

“…Why?” I mean, it was appreciated, but it was strange. He hadn’t treated me quite so sweetly since the first week I came home from the hospital.

And while I understood he felt guilty, I wasn’t helpless. If anyone looked that way, it was the man who was barely able to coherently reply, “Because you need it.”

“You look exhausted, old man.” Mirroring his previous actions, I covered his forehead with my hand. He didn’t lean into it that time, though. He just slumped into the bed beside me, curling into a ball at my side.

“I really am,” he admitted.

It was a rare thing to hear, and so I wasn’t going to try and convince him to stay up for my sake. I would finish the drink he’d made and simply enjoy the way it felt to have my boyfriend clinging on to me like a magnet.

“Go to sleep,” I basically ordered, following it up with a much nicer, “and let’s sleep in all morning.” Then, deciding that was too nice, I tacked on, “I’ll even let you make me more hot chocolate.”

Spencer’s laughter shook both of our bodies, and I pulled him even closer. Like the few inches would help the sound last longer in my memory.

“How are you feeling? Seriously,” he asked again, looking up at me through half-lidded eyes that barely kept open through his yawn.

“I’m fine. Just like I told you I was.”

“Okay,” he conceded hesitantly, “Tell me if that changes.”

“Promise,” I said, letting my hand run through his hair and enjoying the way his whole body wiggled from the attention. He looked up at me from his position with his head resting against my heart just as the goosebumps spread over his skin.

I almost let him off the hook. I almost let him drift off to sleep then, but that look he flashed me filled me with such an undeniable, uncontrollable love that I couldn’t let him forget the very order he’d given me.

“You owe me more kisses, you know.”

We didn’t keep count, but I was certain we passed ten by the time we both fell asleep.

—————————————————

There was nothing quite like being woken up by the horrible buzzing of Spencer’s phone. I understood that the whole point of having the ringtone and vibration set to be so loud was precisely to be annoying enough that it couldn’t be ignored, but it didn’t mean I had to like it. Especially not that morning.

I barely remembered the night before, still stuck in a sleepy haze, but I was able to recognize that, for whatever reason, his phone was on my side of the bed.

“No! It’s Saturday!” I whined, tossing in the bed so I could throw my arms over him, “That’s not fair!”

“I know. Life isn’t fair,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes and mostly ignoring me as I draped over him. “Give me my phone.”

Glancing back at the offending device, I noticed for the first time just how hard my heart was beating. Not only was it loud in my ears, but it also caused a vague discomfort in my stomach.

“Do you really have to answer?” I asked quietly.

“You know I do,” he responded in that stern tone of voice that never accompanied anything fun.

I relented, taking his phone gently and handing it to him without another word. He stayed in bed for a second longer, his hand running over his face to try and wipe the exhaustion off. I watched him from my position shrunk under the covers.

When he finally put the phone down, he sighed, “Shit. I have to go.”

Spencer sat up so quickly that my hands that were settled on his stomach slid from their spot before I could try to hold him tighter. The chilly morning air caused goosebumps to burst all over me, but I ignored the chattering of my teeth as I threw my entire body over him.

“Wait!”

To his credit, he didn’t really try to fight it. With another heavy sigh, he dropped his body back onto the bed and closed his eyes. I could feel the annoyance quickly building, but I suppressed the sadness it caused. I tried to stay lighthearted, leaning over him with a soft plea, “Kiss me before you go.”

“I know that voice,” he warned, sitting up and grabbing hold of me. For a split second, I thought I might get what I wanted, but then he just picked me up, plopping me back down onto the bed beside him.

“I don’t have time for this,” he said.

My heart leapt into my throat, and I could feel my pulse just as hard there. It felt like I was suffocating on the words that couldn’t make their way out. In fact, everything about the situation felt bizarre— like there were some invisible high stakes. Like I needed Spencer to look at me and touch me or else I might actually shatter to pieces in my bed.

The bed that he was leaving.

Jumping up from my spot, I threw myself at him for the second time that morning. I caught onto his arm with a heavy enough grip that I almost succeeded in forcibly dragging him back into the bed.

“Come on! It won’t take that long,” I appealed, my voice growing more frantic with every syllable, “If you’re going to leave for god knows how long, they can wait an extra... 15 minutes!”

There was no pause or sympathy when he replied, “Cut it out.” He just pried my hand off his arm and continued on his way through the rushed version of his morning routine.

“What are they going to do? Leave without you?” I called.

“Yeah, they might.”

I was getting nowhere. I didn’t even really know why I was so persistent, but the only words that were forcing their way through the blockage in my throat were words I didn’t want to say. They were words that made me feel weak and clingy and stupid. I knew he could hear it in my voice, too, although to him I’m sure it sounded more like my normal whining.

“So let them leave,” I mumbled, dragging myself from the bed and padding over to him as he threw on a shirt. “Then we would have plenty more time.”

Spotting my next move in the mirror, Spencer placed a forceful hand on my chest to stop me from wrapping my arms around him. “Stop it, (y/n),” he said slowly and lowly, “I am not playing with you. I don’t have time for this.”

A chill ran down my spine that was immediately replaced with a burning heat in my face. I wasn’t blushing, and I wasn’t angry. It was a terrible, horrible, indescribable feeling. The feeling of being forgotten.

But that wasn’t fair, was it? He was just trying to go to work, so why did I feel so empty? It wouldn’t be the first time the BAU had interrupted our plans.

“I just want to be helpful,” I muttered under my breath.

Spencer had already looked away.

“Then get back in bed.”

I looked over at the disrupted covers and had the sinking realization that no amount of comfort items would make me feel better. The very idea of returning to his bed without him brought honest to god tears to my eyes.

“B-But if I do that then you’re going to leave me,” I blubbered. I’d never felt more pathetic. My boyfriend was almost at the end of his patience, and my hands were still clinging to his shirt and leaving even more frustrating wrinkles in the fabric.

“Well, I’m doing that either way, so you might as well not throw a tantrum.”

He wasn’t wrong. If I’d taken a step back and looked at myself, I would have seen how ridiculous I was being. My brain was screaming at me to let him go, to just climb into bed and cry by myself until I got over it. It wouldn’t take that long, right?

But I’d never felt like that before. I’d never wanted to cry like that before.

“Please don’t leave me,” I whispered into the sleeve of his shirt before he gently nudged me away again.

“What?” he said with a tired sigh, “I can’t hear you when you whine like that. Please just get back in bed. I know you’re tired.”

I stared at his profile, recognizing the exhaustion clear in his eyes that could barely stay open. His jaw was clenched shut, and his hands were sluggish. He was tired, and it was all my fault. I’d kept him up taking care of me, and now I was making his morning worse, too.

I didn’t know how to make it better. I didn’t know what to say or do to show him that I appreciated him, but that there was something else inside of me trying to break its way out. It was working, too, as the sadness started to pool in my eyes. I buried my face into his back, my arms wrapping around him and halting his movements again.

It was the last straw for an exhausted, annoyed Spencer. Pulling my arms off him, he finally turned to face me. His hair was still ruffled and his voice crackly from the interrupted sleep.

“What has gotten into you?!” he shouted, unable to control his crankiness any more than I could control what happened next.

“I don’t know!” I yelled.

His eyes went wide as I crumpled forward, sobs taking up all of my breath as I covered his shirt with tears. I clung to him tighter than I had all morning, giving everything to the last attempt to stop him.

“I just really, really don’t want you to leave!”

Spencer became absolutely panicked, his arms wrapping around me faster and tighter than I thought he would be capable of in the current state.

“Oh, little girl,” he cooed, stopping me from falling to the ground with a bit of a chuckle. He clearly didn’t mean to laugh at me, it was more like one of those self-deprecating laughs he gave when he realized how stupid he was being. But he wasn’t being stupid, I was.

So why was he being so nice?

“I didn’t realize, I’m so sorry,” he whispered into my hair. He began gentle strokes along my back while the two of us moved back to the bed. He waited until I stumbled backwards and took my seat before he looked at me.

With all the tenderness he could muster on an early Saturday morning, he swept my messy hair from my face and told me, “I’m not mad at you.”

“What’s wr-wrong with me?” I sniffled and choked, not even bothering to clean my face. His hands were already busy trying to wipe away the tears.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with you.”

I almost believed him. He let out a soft, stuttered breath before he kissed me. Then, as he had before, he kissed me again, and again, and again. He kept laying the tiny pecks all over my lips and cheeks until I was able to flash him a half-hearted smile.

“This is totally normal and it’s going to be okay,” he assured with one final kiss on the lips.

It felt like things were going to be okay when it was just the two of us. But then Spencer looked down at his watch, and the rest of the world joined us in his room. It was too small for everyone to fit.

“I’m going to get you in trouble,” I whined as the tears sprouted anew, “This is so stupid! I’m being so stupid!”

“Stop that. You’re not stupid.”

Then, with perfect timing, that horrible ringing of his phone was all I could hear.

“Shit!” he cursed under his breath, pulling the phone from his pocket. Even though Spencer didn’t point out to me exactly what was happening, it was clear that he thought it was serious enough to consider the one thing he was so dead-set against a few minutes earlier. He looked down at his phone that was still ringing, then back up to me.

“Just go. I’ll be okay,” I said with as much confidence as possible under the circumstances.

It didn’t work.

“No, you won’t,” he corrected. There was a pang of guilt present in all his features that was only getting worse. Before I knew it, he had his arms around me. “This is my fault, I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s fine,” I laughed, my mind already trying to find a way to shove the sadness down long enough that I could see him off with a smile. “I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.”

Spencer laughed, too, although it was obvious that he didn’t buy my usual act. I’d blame it on the therapy that I’d started to attend, but the truth was he’d noticed my tells long before that. He was just willing to ignore them up to a point. This, clearly, did not qualify.

“No, I’m not doing that to you.”

He didn’t say anything else before he stepped away. He let our fingers linger together until they couldn’t reach anymore. Even that made me miss him, despite him barely standing a few feet away. I figured he didn’t want me to hear the other half of the conversation. So, I just sat there, crossing my legs with my hands between them and trying not to look as embarrassed as I felt.

“Can I—“ he muttered into the receiver. I didn’t meet his eyes, and soon heard him continue more confidently, “I’ll meet you there. I’ll take a commercial flight.”

My body perked up at the implication, and a dopey smile covered my face as I realized just what he was sacrificing for me. But then any sign of happiness was crushed by the guilt that immediately followed. He had shirked off so much of his job for me. I was just always this big, annoying inconvenience. He was important, and I was monopolizing his mind and his time just so he could wipe away my tears.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said before clearing his throat, “And uh, Hotch? I don’t need a room. I’ll get my own. Yeah, everything is fine. I’ll explain when I get there... Alright, bye.”

“What are you do—?” I started the second he hung up the phone, but Spencer shook his head, raising his hand to cut me off.

“Come with me,” he said, rushed and exasperated.

After a brief moment of silence, I laughed. I figured it had to be a joke, or some offer I was always meant to deny. But when he just kept staring expectantly, hopefully, I blubbered back, “W-what?”

“Come with me, on the case,” he repeated with a scrunched up smile, “I want you to come with me.”

“Can you even do that?” I asked cautiously, covering my chest with my arm. I think he could see how badly I wanted to do it, but he had to realize how uncomfortable the request made me at the same time. I mean, how would he explain it to the team? Would he keep me a secret? What was I meant to do while they were working?

Spencer saw the questions rolling through my head. He came back to me, his hands cupping my face and making me look up at him. “I don’t care,” he whispered, “I won’t leave you like this. I can’t do that.”

I inspected his face for a long while. I let the silence settle over us and tried to find a reason to say no. I searched for the courage to say no and the stubbornness I used to have. But then my mind flashed back to the only arguments we’d had. They always revolved around this, around our insistence that we handle things alone.

Why? I reminded myself, I’m not alone. I don’t have to be alone.

So, with a trembling lip, I mumbled, “O-okay.”

“Okay,” he returned. And for a second, the tension melted from him. Closing his eyes, Spencer let out a deep breath and pulled me closer in a small hug that didn’t last long enough. But once it was over, I realized why. He had practically dragged me off the bed by both hands, guiding me over to my closet and pulling out my barely-used suitcase.

“Hurry up and pack a bag for at least five days. Anything you forget we can just get there.”

I nodded, releasing his hands yet again. Except this time, it wasn’t a goodbye. It was something entirely different. It was taking another step into the future with Spencer Reid. It was thrilling and strange and welcome.

Welcome, I repeated in my mind. It wasn’t a word I would have used comfortably before. As I packed my bag, I felt my boyfriend glancing over at me every few seconds. Like he was waiting to see how I assimilated into his life. I found myself hoping that I was passing the test, although I knew this wouldn’t ever be a normal occurrence.

“Are you ready?” he asked. The question brought another heavy feeling into my stomach, but this time it wasn’t necessarily a bad one. I looked down at the suitcase in my hands, and then back up to him.

Am I ready? The question was meant to be about our impromptu trip; I knew that was all he meant. But as I stood there contemplating a future with Spencer Reid, I asked myself if I was ready for a number of things I hadn’t ever seriously considered.

Am I ready? I prompted myself again.

“Yeah,” I said with a relieved sigh, “Yeah, I think I am.”

—————————————————

| Part 22 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid series #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid request #reid request #dr spencer reid

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amorousadepti · 4 years ago

Text

❈| genshin hands

characters: diluc, jean, kaeya, venti, eula, zhongli, xiao, ningguang, beidou, childe

warnings: vague descriptions of blood, scars, and canon-typical violence; allusions to abuse in eula’s section.

length: 1.1k

as often covered by gloves as they are, it’s rare that anyone gets a good look at diluc’s hands. without a weapon in his grip, they feel... clumsy. graceless, too large, and he knows that they aren’t a pretty sight. the skin of his knuckles and palms is rough with burn scars that spiral past his wrists, trailing up his forearms. but his hands are always pleasantly warm to the touch, and he is far more capable of gentleness than he thinks; the skin between each finger is softer, more sensitive, and if you watch closely you can see the way he shivers when you lace your fingers with his

the acting grandmaster has strong, sinewy hands. jean bears a tremendous amount of responsibility, and she bears it well; her hands never shake, at least not where anyone else would see. when she was younger, more impulsive, she would sometimes practice so long and so obsessively that her hands bled, but she has learned moderation now (though lisa would probably appreciate it if she learned a little more.) comradely gestures come easily to her - a gentle squeeze of your shoulder, or holding your hands in hers as she thanks you for all your hard work - but she blushes if you return them in kind, hiding a shy smile behind her fist

kaeya’s hands are always just slightly cooler to the touch than the average person; a godsend on hot days, he’ll happily lay his icy palms against your skin if you ask (though not without a little bit of playful teasing.) he has his fair share of scars and scrapes - one doesn’t become a cavalry captain without earning it, after all - but he takes good care of his hands, often rubbing beeswax into his palms to keep the skin soft and supple. he lets klee paint his nails sometimes, and proudly flaunts the results no matter how much polish ends up smeared on his fingertips rather than on the nail itself

from a glance at his hands, it’s easy to tell that venti is a musician. his hands are long and delicate, a joy to watch as they dance over the strings of a lyre or the holes of a flute. his calloused fingertips are often stained with ink from scribbling down bits of inspiration. he’s given to gesticulating when he talks, grand, sweeping gestures to accompany the most dramatic moments of whatever story he’s telling, but it’s the smaller movements which are most notable - the way he reaches out to trace inscrutable carvings on shattered ruins, or the swipe of his thumb over your cheekbone as he cups your face in his hands, committing you to memory

eula's hands are softer than she would like. though she is by no means weak, her hands are surprisingly smooth and unmarked, other than a number of old scars that crisscross the backs of her palms; not reminders of combat, but the long-healed remnants of the lawrence family’s educational regime. considering her reputation in mondstadt and her place in the knights, she's more accustomed to violence than she is to friendly touch - which means that the first time you grab her hand, happily leading her through the streets, she's uncharacteristically lost for words. she will remember this moment. for the purposes of revenge, of course.

zhongli’s hands are elegant, smooth, and precise, usually folded over his chest or steepled under his chin in thought. unlike some, he rarely wastes energy on unnecessary movements - though when he’s engaged in the telling of a particularly long or passionate anecdote, he has been known to gesture for emphasis. he has a habit of handling items very delicately, just with the tips of his fingers, and sometimes goes out of his way to seek out pleasing textures; a broad category that covers everything from the warm thrum of radiant-grade noctilucous jade to the feeling of your hair between his fingers as you rest in his lap after a long day

xiao has surprisingly small hands, almost delicate at first glance - though he'd be offended if you were ever to say so out loud. but his slender fingers are deft and strong, and patterned with the scars of many, many battles. the bends of them are heavily calloused from handling his spear, and he tends to unconsciously clench and unclench his fists in times of deep thought or incredible stress. his hands are capable of great violence and tenderness in equal measure, though he’s had fewer opportunities for the latter. he imagines touching you far more often than he'd like to admit, but always kills the impulse before it can become action - adepti have no desires, after all

the tianquan of the liyue qixing spares no expense when it comes to her personal upkeep, and ningguang’s hands are no exception. beneath her silken gloves, her hands are elegant and well-manicured, but surprisingly tough; the long years she spent clawing her way to the top left a fair share of scars. she’s not ashamed of the evidence of her hard work, but she does savor being able to take better care of her hands now, and her collection of lotions, scrubs, and polishes is the envy of many a liyue noble. when she’s in a teasing mood she may present her hand for you to kiss, and her skin always smells faintly of glaze lilies

every scar and mark on beidou's hands comes with a story behind it, and she'll happily regale you with each one over a couple of good beers. her hands are warm, large, and rough, with thick fingers and pronounced knuckles. they ache often, and she claims that she can always tell when a storm's rolling in by the throbbing in her hands (and she's almost always right, too.) she's long-accustomed to the pain, but if you want to see the captain of the crux melt under your touch? offer her a hand massage. it's a rare bit of pampering that she definitely needs, and she'll be sure to pay your generosity back ten-fold

childe’s hands are always in motion: twirling his daggers and bow, fiddling some component of a ruin guard between his fingers, compulsively adjusting his hair and clothes. he has a bad habit of biting his nails down to the quick, and wears gloves not only to protect against inclement weather but to try and train himself out of doing so (these efforts have yet to work.) he’s naturally quite handsy, but will dial it back if you genuinely dislike it; allow him to run wild, though, and you’ll find him casually grabbing your hand or petting your hair at every opportunity, whether in private or (and perhaps especially) in public

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #sfw #a post sponsored by: my hand fixation (っ˘ω˘ς )

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tearsofsyrup · 4 years ago

Text

half-silvered

— With all the time that has passed since your endless fleeing began, some part of you seems to have forgotten that you are running away from actual people and that there is an actual possibility that they might catch up to you.

pairing. kwon soonyoung / reader

genre. space pirate au, exes au, sci-fi au, romance, angst

word count. 4k

warnings. brief violence

notes. part of @merakiiverse‘s collab! happy holidays, honeys.

Your heartbeat is steady. And unsettlingly silent.

The darkness stretching from wall to wall, blanketing the rooms and corridors in a thick black only interrupted by the round stream of your flashlight which creates distorted shadows before you, does not make your blood pump faster anymore. A thrill you faintly remember from past times in this career is but a stale taste in the back of your throat now, its tang long since eroded.

Skimming over the numbers on each crate with heavy-lidded eyes as you proceed, your free hand digs in the pocket of your coat to retrieve a small list. You cannot bother to count the rooms you pass until you find the box with a code matching the one on your piece of paper, dismissing any distant thud that might reach your ear. Even the thought of one of the thugs you passed on the street before entering the warehouse following you inside, does not alarm you. You trust it would be different if a thirty-seven thousand credit blaster - stolen, naturally - wasn’t fastened to your utility belt, but you cannot be sure anymore.

You shove the end of your flashlight in your mouth as you crouch before the targeted crate and pull out your cloaked mobile to hack the heavy lock sealing the lid shut - a fruitless attempt at keeping your kind out. And with nothing but a few taps and a few beeps more, the lock slides open.

The list feels amateur to you despite its ambition; two whole pairs of di-blasters, no less than three Caratian batteries and one weighty pouch of crystal powder. You're aware that this used to be exhilarating, the thousands of credits worth of cargo you are currently tucking in your backpack - multiplied with a one point two by your buyer. However. You suppress a yawn as you check the list again, before closing the crate with a loud boom.

And wandering back the way you came is just as uneventful as you remember it.

Until you hear a door shut somewhere behind you, not far away.

Instinct is what swings you around, arm steady with experience as you shine your light forth and around, other hand ready on the handle of your blaster. You see nothing but shelves and crates and more crates as your light scans the room, penetrating its dense shadow. Your heartbeat is picking up, but shyly so, your breathing yet even.

Silence. Similar to the one that often creeps inside your skull and lays its eggs of isolation and loneliness in your dreams when you try to sleep during some nights. You gulp, slowly releasing the grip on your blaster.

So you turn back around, quietly and carefully-

A face.

Halted breath.

Soonyoung?

Everything burns, lightning setting fire to the bones beneath your skin and squeezing your lungs of their air and-

...

A piercing headache is what coaxes your consciousness, eyes yet closed. Piercing, as though you are being slammed in the head with the handle of a blaster over and over, the resulting groan that crawls its way out of your chest almost causing you to jump in surprise. Attempting to pry your eyelids open only seems to worsen the incessant pounding, so you let them remain shut, slowly realizing that you are slouched on the ground, back leaned against a wall of some sort. You move to push yourself forward.

But your wrists are tied behind you.

It hurts when your breath hitches.

You force your eyes open then, despite it seemingly grasping your brain and ripping it apart, the instinct to survive activating and tingling within your muscles.

A disorienting blur is all you see through your squinting, a distant canvas of blacks and greys and biting lights. You think a monotone whirr surrounds you but cannot be sure if its a figment of mere imagination through the painful pounding in your ears.

As your vision slowly steadies and your heartbeat’s speed increases, you see that someone sits before you. A face. When your eyes close, Soonyoung’s face flashes across the insides of your lids and you feel fluster burning beneath your cheeks, remembering. Soonyoung?

With a sharp sting, you blink and blink away the dim coating your pupils. It isn’t Soonyoung.

“Ji- ugh... Ji-...” Jihoon, your sore throat won’t let you say.

Jihoon?

His glare is pointed, willing everything in its way to turn to stone. Just like how it used to be. But filled with more hatred, directed at you now. And you can barely comprehend that it is really him.

The inside of a ship surrounds you when you look around, a grey and matte metal, various large crates - one of which Jihoon is seated upon - rucksacks and blasters and canisters and multicolored lights crowding the space. It is bigger than the ship of theirs from your memories.

Jihoon’s all but predatory gaze is still waiting when you return to it.

You try to clear your throat, wincing at the painful pounding that follows and echoes between the walls of your skull. Fingertips tingling, you remember being knocked out, in the warehouse. The fiery burn. Electricity.

“Ji-” you begin, voice raspy but Jihoon stands with a sigh and walks away, out through a doorway and presumably into another room.

You are left stunned, feeling abandoned, body aching. The chill he meets you with after all these years, without even as much as a word, squeezes around your heart in a most discomforting way, despite being expected. Despite him clearly having a hand in your current physical state.

But you ignore that pain and will your eyes to scan your surroundings, your instinct to survive muted but present, searching for any way to escape and run.

With as much power as you can muster in your unwell state and vulnerable position, you jerk your wrists against the cuffs tying your hands together. An electronic lock, you guess, definitely attached to the wall somehow. Inconvenient...

You swallow around slimy saliva, throat so dry it almost feels like sand on its way down. And Soonyoung’s face flashes behind your eyelids when you blink again.

Your eyes are fixed on the doorway now, somehow sensing exactly who will soon enter, rhythmic thuds of footsteps approaching.

But expecting his appearance does naught to calm the heat his presence spreads throughout your body.

Soonyoung.

The same Soonyoung but with grimmer eyes, a stronger build and a missing smile.

Your throat squeezes, feeling as though your heart has jumped up and plugged it shut in an attempt to leave the painful constraints of your chest. Feelings you have tried to keep hidden for so long. Nails bite into your palms where your hands form tight fists behind you.

He walks with steady steps, sharp eyes narrow when they meet yours, Jihoon stopping to lean against the doorway while someone unfamiliar follows behind Soonyoung.

It hurts to breathe as heavily as you are now but you cannot stop.

Soonyoung stills before you to sit where Jihoon had, the stranger standing behind him scrutinizing you. But you don’t pay the latter much mind.

“Soonyoung...” you sigh, but an injured whisper, something salty burning distantly behind your eyes.

He watches you silently, eyebrows twitching slightly at the utterance of his name.

“Why-” you begin but stumble on a cough.

Soonyoung reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a small flask, unscrewing the lid and guiding it to your mouth, helping you drink. If he were anyone else, you would give the offer a second guess. But he’s Soonyoung.

Yet here you are, captive in his ship.

“You never were good at being taken by surprise...” His voice resonates within the deepest parts of your chest and you choke slightly on the water, fists tightening impossibly when his sentence his followed by your name. The familiar vibrations in your ears are too shocking and it somehow scares you, a feeling you do not experience much of.

Soonyoung retracts the flask and flashes you a strained smile, eyes remaining dull. “That’s why we made such a good team.”

A stab in the heart, is what that sentence feels like and you cannot help but shift your eyes to the floor, your dirty boots. Unearned, since you were the one holding the knife back then.

You test your voice with a careful hum, lifting your eyes to meet Soonyoung’s returned frown. “Wh- uhm... I- You electrocuted me... Didn’t you?”

He nods, something pained in his stare. Freezing compared to how Jihoon made you feel. “Yes.”

“Wh-” A cough. “Where’s my ship?”

“We’ve parked it in a private haven. It’s ours now.”

Your gaze shifts from Soonyoung to the stranger behind him, his expression inquisitive, then to Jihoon, glare heavy with unmistakable anger. A swallow tightens your throat.

“You- Why am I here?”

“We want credits,” Soonyoung says and you frown. “A desire you must be pretty familiar with...”

Your heartbeat freezes for a second and something stings somewhere behind your eyes again. There is venom in his voice that never used to be there before. But you are who poisoned him so the hurt you feel is unearned, you remind yourself.

“So, then just take-”

“We want credits,” Soonyoung repeats, interrupting you and resting his elbows on his thighs to lean closer. “... but not yours.”

When your eyes stray due to puzzlement they are only received by Jihoon’s still hateful glare, therefore returning to Soonyoung quickly. Even though his hostility hurts you more.

“Then... What will you do with me...?”

The man before you shrugs, head jerking when black strands of hair catch on his eyelashes. “Nothing much... We’re not gonna kill you or hurt you any more. But I can’t make such promises on the Chancellor’s behalf.”

Your jaw drops along with your heart, and probably your temperature too.

“You’ve pissed a lot of people off, y’know?” Soonyoung continues, leaning away. “The bounty on your head only keeps increasing, especially alive.”

“Y-... You’re fetching me for the Chancellor...” Your voice is significantly weaker now.

And it seems to reach Soonyoung differently, because the chill in his gaze turns glum, a poignance in the way he observes your deflating form on the floor of his ship. Which only seems to worsen the pain viciously clawing at your insides, like your body is only just realizing that it is really him. He found you, after so long. And he is sending you to your probable death.

“Soonyoung...”

He purses his lips, as if biting back an apology of some sorts that he knows you don’t deserve. A nod is all you get before he stands again.

“Jeonghan, upload the route and start the ship,” he commands, seemingly to the stranger behind him. Then he is gone through the doorway again, what remains of your heart merely left to soak in self-inflicted misery.

...

They decide to watch you for one shift each whilst you travel toward your pending doom, a wise decision considering your track record of escaping sticky situations. Coupled with the fact that you do not want to hurt either Soonyoung or Jihoon anyway, despite phantom heat still tingling throughout your limbs from the earlier electric shock and heavy handcuffs digging into your wrists.

Jeonghan, the stranger, is the first to watch you. He is surprisingly nice to you, offers you water and even bread, initiating small talk - something you cannot remember when you last did without an ulterior motive.

“So, you used to know Soonyoung and Jihoon, right?” he asks at one point with an encouraging smile, making you wonder how much he knows. The weight of the question rings quietly in your ears.

“Uhm, yes... Yes, I used to know them...”

When you say no more, despite Jeonghan’s patience, he clears his throat. “Did... you guys have a falling out?”

You scoff upon reflex. “Yeah, you could say that...”

Jeonghan squints. “What happened?”

A heaviness brews within Jeonghan’s eyes and suddenly you feel like he knows everything, like he is just asking to confirm what he has already been told. To decide if you really are the vile monster he thinks of you as.

The darkness of the cargo hold turns colder suddenly and you look away. “I’d rather not talk about it...” you squeak as your heart thuds painfully.

Jeonghan’s all but invasive stare fades and he changes the subject then.

...

The next shift is Jihoon’s and you have never felt as naked, vulnerable and guilty as you do under his burning glare.

He doesn’t utter one single word. Only sits in front of you and stares, seemingly trying to summon your death with nothing but one long look and a chilling quiet. And you are terribly surprised that it doesn’t work.

Not even sleep is worth attempting in Jihoon’s silence as when your lids fall shut Jihoon’s loathing expression is imprinted behind them, slowly morphing into Soonyoung’s instead. It only makes your heart jump and eyes itch, so you endure Jihoon’s invisible knives with an increasingly parched throat for the duration of his shift.

...

Despite how unsettling being watched by Jihoon proved to be, when it is Soonyoung’s turn you almost ask Jihoon to stay.

Your body has grown heavy with fatigue but your mind awakens painfully when Soonyoung approaches, bringing a tension so thick it makes you sweat with him. Therefore his first action of offering you water is appreciated. But the way there’s a permanent frown weighing at the corners of his mouth makes the water taste bitter.

You break the silence after moisturizing your vocal chords, speaking over the consistent beeping sounds in the background.

“I think Jihoon wants me dead,” seems like the only thing you can think of saying. Even though there are so many words boiling within your chest with Soonyoung’s name written all over them, you feel like you do not have the right to their utterances.

Soonyoung’s lips purse, slanted gaze serious. “You’re probably right.”

It hurts, though you have not earned that pain. Only caused it.

A quiet that lasts a forged eternity proceeds, until the tension turns deafening.

Soonyoung sighs, a slow hand combing through his hair. “Jihoon used to like you more than me, y’know? You were always his favorite...”

It really hurts.

“Until you fucked us over,” Soonyoung finishes.

Averting your eyes you swallow around slimy saliva, a cold knot twisting in the pit of your stomach. And there is a burn behind your eyelids you are afraid will boil over if you meet Soonyoung’s stare again. The cognizance of your weakness that washes over you and makes your hairs stand on end is unpleasant, mercilessly corroding the strong image you’ve built of yourself.

“You-you gave up everything we had for... money,” Soonyoung continues when you can’t, the weight of his tone increasing. “You left us, you left... me. You left me for fucking credits...” His voice wavers and it’s a dagger in your heart, a sting behind your eyes.

Your memory is as clear as if it had only just happened. Seeing the offer that had been sent to you. Considering and considering and considering, all those credits that could be yours if you just made the right choice. Lying sleepless next to Soonyoung that night, palm flat on his naked chest. Getting dressed quietly, leaving the ship with the emptiness of an unspoken goodbye in your stomach, one you convinced yourself wasn’t real. Giving away the ship’s location to the bidder, knowing the trouble it would bring your friend and your lover. How salty the countless credits tasted once yours. You still taste it now.

Though you cannot be sure of how long it takes for you to notice that you are crying, you find that your will to save face has run out. You break at last.

Ugly sobbing bounces between the metal walls of the ship, worsening with each breath as you keep remembering that you are not the one who should be crying. Your lungs burn painfully, Jihoon and Jeonghan surely waking upon your horrid weeping. It feels as though your heart is melting, running down your cheeks and dying as the droplets flatten across the floor. In only moments, you are reduced to nothing. Nothing but shame. And the man whose heart you battered witnesses it all.

Eventually, there are no more tears left to cry and silence thrives again, save for the rhythmic beeping.

“I’m sorry,” comes the apology that is long overdue, as raspy as it may be.

Soonyoung’s expression is blue, eyes glazed over with a sadness you only recognize now when yours are too. “It doesn’t matter,” he reminds you, though his tone is not as dismissive as the sentence it offers.

Your head shakes quickly, strands of hair sticking against your tacky cheeks. “I know it doesn’t. You’ve always been a man of your word Soonyoung, and you will turn me in no matter what I say now...” you concede and Soonyoung’s shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I-I-I was greedy and selfish and only cared about credits, about feeling strong and independent and invincible-... Or so I thought. Or wanted to, I-... I cared about you two...” Your throat tightens, but you force your words out anyway. “I loved you Soonyoung and I- It wasn’t fake, I was never lying, I just-... I wanted to feel like I didn’t need you... And there will never be a time when I won’t regret what I did...”

Tears descend the expanse of your face again, but silently this time. And Soonyoung’s stare is filled with something warmer now, despite his steadfast sorrow. And you can only think about the hugs you left behind, the kisses, the smiles, the laughs.

“You’re an idiot.”

Your chest jumps at the new voice, blurry stare shooting to where Jihoon is leaned against the doorway again. He sounds the same after three years. And some of the hatred in his glare has faded now.

You nod carefully, lip shaking. “I know.”

Soonyoung’s eyes remain steadily on you.

From where your limbs are slumped in a dead pile against the wall, they stiffen abruptly when there’s a sudden hand on your cheek and your attention jumps to Soonyoung again. He wipes your tears with gentle touches, warm thumb soft across your skin. Nails tickle your cheekbone lightly as he moves to tuck some stray strands of hair behind your ear. Your heart must be shuddering.

“I missed you for a long time,” he tells you, pupils tracing the shapes of your features along with his finger. “And then hated you for even longer.”

Your lips purse, sour accord pooling in your eyes, his touch leaving a trail of pleasant tingles. “I hate myself too, and it’s due time I get served my share of consequences.”

Soonyoung’s lids become heavier and his gaze darkens. “You should get some sleep now,” he mutters.

And the temperatures within and around you drop when his hand leaves your face.

...

Despite Soonyoung’s request and your extreme fatigue, sleep did not come easily that night. Likely due to the knowledge of your approaching punishment - though it is hard for you to imagine feeling any worse than you already do.

The guilt that you postponed for the past years weighs uncomfortably on your shoulders as you now stand by the still sealed ramp, and so do the electronic cuffs around your wrists along with the hanging shadows beneath your eyes. A sickness is brewing in your stomach, made up of shame and hunger, but you somehow like it in the same way that you deserve it.

You can sense Soonyoung’s presence behind you as much as you can hear it by his footsteps, and turn around slowly. Jihoon and Jeonghan stand idly in the background, also awaiting your departure. Though there is seemingly something sour in the curl of Jihoon’s brow, and something hesitant in the stiffness of Jeonghan’s lip.

But undoubtedly, the grim matte of Soonyoung’s eye is worst of all.

His face hasn’t been this close in years and the longing ache his proximity offers feels as undeserved as his frown. You threw him away and he is still the victim, despite the handcuffs trapping you. Soonyoung is still the good one.

“It’s time,” he says, voice steady and breath fanning your face. He really is close.

You nod, "it’s time.” And the silence that has plagued your chest for too long only deepens then, cold within the confines of your ribs.

A smile is what the grimace you present is meant to be, eyes piercing his own, desperately trying to remember his exact shade of brown and the charming tilt encasing it. What you fell for, what you betrayed and what put you in your place. This is right, as much as it hurts and as dead as it renders your barely beating heart. The goodbye you have earned.

But a fire is rising in Soonyoung’s gaze, even though it’s not supposed to.

And then he is grabbing your face, gloved palms flat against your cheeks, and kissing you. His lips are soft and plump, his pace is hard and reckless, his taste is warm and familiar and your whole body is frozen. Until your heart bursts with something so loud it feels like it hasn’t made a single sound in forever.

Coming to half your senses, you kiss Soonyoung back with as much fervor as you can manage, tied hands tingling with an insatiable desire to touch him and hold him closer. As if hearing your silent plea, he pulls you in, leaving no air to breathe between you. You distantly imagine Jihoon’s head turning away and Jeonghan’s unreadable expression but cannot find the will to care.

Soonyoung pulls away far too soon and his serious yet heavy-lidded gaze pierces you still.

“Listen to me,” he starts, chest heaving in time with yours, grip meaningful on your shoulders. “Get out of there as quickly as you can, and come find me.”

Your whole body is shaking under the impact of your heartbeat.

“Understand?” Soonyoung’s brows shoot upward.

The demand is unrealistic. You have not heard of anyone escaping the captivity of the Chancellor and know that the odds are positively against you, no matter how skilled you might be. Your death is surely ready to welcome you with open arms, as soon as the ramp is lowered.

Yet, you nod. Knees quivering.

Faintly, you register something beeping.

“Soonyoung,” Jeonghan calls.

You don’t know what to make of the man’s expression when you turn to look, nor Jihoon’s.

Soonyoung’s whisper of your name brings your bug-eyed stare back to him. Those deep brown, fiery eyes.

You nod again.

He sighs, carefully.

Then steps away to push the button that opens the ramp.

Cold winds rush inside the ship and tousle your hair, worsening the shaking in your limbs. But all you feel is rhythmic exhilaration pumping from your heart.

You turn around, met with the sight of the Chancellor’s guards standing in the midst of a snowstorm, waiting for you. Nearly stumbling while descending the ramp’s tilt, the guards grab you and begin searching you immediately, while one of them relays a message to Soonyoung that you can’t seem to hear.

Your neck twists, eyes looking up and meeting Soonyoung’s from where he stands at the top of the ramp. Something in your chest is screaming and it’s deafening.

With guards’ hands patting you down, Soonyoung smiles and his eyes do too. And you are immediately infected, mirroring his expression instinctively, aware of how little you deserve him. In the chilling temperatures of this weather, your blood is warm. Soonyoung presses the button.

When the ramp seals shut, you are left knowing that Soonyoung will be there and he is left wondering if you will ever come.

#caratwritersclub #svtsource #seventeen imagines #hoshi imagines #soonyoung imagines #seventeen scenarios #hoshi scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #seventeen x reader #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #seventeen angst #hoshi angst #soonyoung angst

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scarlet-star-witch · 4 years ago

Text

Fade Into You - Part 18 (Mandalorian/OC)

Summary: Din has spent a year grieving the love of his life. While he thinks he has lost her forever, she lingers in the darkness, her mind twisted and manipulated, with no memory of him or the love they shared. What will it take for Din to help her remember?

Warnings: Violence and a whole lotta angst (why do I do this to my favourite couple - readers I’m so sorry)

First Part Previous Part Next Part

Din was breathing heavily, his entire body tense as stone as he put all his might behind his body as he battered it against the locked door. His fear was reaching new heights to the point that it was almost blinding. He could feel every fibre of his being vibrating with anger.

The end felt close and the result, happy or devastating, was choking him.

He knew if he lost her, for real this time, it would be the end of him.

Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, pain that even his armour couldn’t deflect, he continued to slam his body against the door, desperate to break it open, to have his wife by his side again and kill Voros with his bare hands.

He knew Iella was facing her biggest fear and to know she was doing it alone was the most terrifying and intimidating moment he’d ever faced in his entire bounty hunting career.

Nothing compared to this moment.

“Fuck,” He muttered through gritted teeth, ignoring the wince of pain that flashed through him as his shoulder hit the door again. “El! Open the damn door you cowards!” He screamed.

He knew they could hear his desperation, he knew they could pinpoint his weakness easily, but he didn’t care. After everything he’d been through, after losing Iella and finding her again, he couldn’t pretend this wasn’t devastating.

“What’s going on?” Cara yelled, appearing at his side as she shot at the occasional passerby.

“She’s in there.”

Cara’s face fell and she stared at the door with fear. “And…”

“He’s in there with her.” Din answered her unasked question, the one they feared the most.

Cara took a long second, her mind racing before she followed Din’s lead and threw herself against the door, desperate to get it open. Din looked at her, his gratitude overflowing from him, and he continued, using every ounce of his strength to try to open the door that separated him from the love of his life.

Iella’s body was frozen where she stood, rigid and tense, ready for bloodshed at any second. Her eyes never left her old master as he stood from his chair and made his way down the few steps that separated them.

She took a small step backwards, wanting to keep the distance that separated them.

“It’s been awhile, my darling. You look wonderful.” He crooned charmingly, only making her stomach turn all the more.

Din’s pounding on the door behind them continued, making her wince and squeeze her eyes shut, trying her hardest to not let any tears fall.

His attempts to get to her and his desperate, fearful voice that called out to her only made Voros laugh, as if he found the situation the funniest thing he had ever heard.

“Well, he’s quite persistent, isn’t he?”

Iella ignored his words, keeping her harsh gaze locked on him. The guards at the door who kept their weapons pointed at her meant nothing, they didn’t register as threats in the slightest. The only thing on her mind was Voros.

“Why are you here, darling?”

“You know why.” She ground out through gritted teeth.

Voros snickered and shook his head. “To kill me, is that right?” He guessed correctly.

Iella tightened her grip on her knife, her expression not faltering.

“Let me guess, you realized what I had done to you, reunited with your bucket head of a husband, and you now hate my guts.” Voros drawled, taking slow steps towards her. “But, there’s something not adding up.”

Iella swallowed thickly, trying hard not to flinch under his scrutinizing gaze. She always felt like he could read her mind, like he knew everything she was feeling just with one harsh glance.

“If you were really happy you would’ve stayed by your husband’s side. You would’ve lived happily ever after, escaping me at every turn.” He eyed her carefully, taking a long pause. “But you’re here, confronting me… because you’re not happy, are you, darling?”

Iella swallowed thickly, schooling her expression so he wouldn’t find out the truth, but, as always with Voros, it was a losing game.

“I knew my machine worked.” He smiled deviously. “You don’t remember who you are. You don’t remember that husband of yours, you don’t remember your family, you don’t remember anything about yourself. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Iella stayed quiet, but her expression gave everything away. Voros just laughed loudly, clapping his hands together as if the situation delighted him, like it was the best news he could have ever received.

“There’s this hole inside you, this darkness that you can’t grasp, no matter how hard you try. That’s why you’re here, putting your husband in danger. You think killing me will restore that darkness inside you. You think if I don’t exist, neither will that killer inside of you.” Voros monologued smugly.

Iella clenched her jaw, hating that everything he was saying was the truth.

Stay calm. He wants you to be angry and reckless. Don’t let him get under your skin.

“You’re smarter than that, Darling. You know killing me won’t change anything. Putting a knife in my heart won’t magically get your memories back, it won’t change your past or the bodies you’ve left in your wake… and it certainly won’t make you love the Mandalorian.”

Iella took in a ragged breath, feeling her anger beginning to overwhelm her.

She thought she had it under control, she thought she could be the bigger person, but as Voros goaded her about her biggest insecurities, as she heard Din’s voice crying out for her on the other side of the door, she cracked.

In the blink of an eye, she twirled on her heel, tossing her knife forward and watching in satisfaction as one of the guards fell to the ground, blood spewing out of the wound on his neck, and the other guards startled, briefly frozen in place in shock at her abrupt actions.

She rushed forward, leaning down to take her knife out of the man’s throat and quickly jumped to the side, using the momentum of her running to launch herself upwards, wrapping her legs around the other guard’s waist and closing her arms around his neck, beginning to choke the life out of him.

Voros laughed at the display, casually moving back to his throne and, without any real fear towards the threat against him, pressed the panic button at the side, alerting the rest of the troopers in the building to make their way to his room.

The crack of the guard’s neck was loud and Iella jumped off his back, letting him fall to the ground.

Two things happened at once in the blink of an eye.

The door behind Voros burst open and hoards of troopers came pouring into the room, their weapons raised at her in the same moment as the door behind her slammed open and Din and Cara stormed in with a deadly tension surrounding them.

Iella watched in awe as Din began to fight. It was so obvious his valiant protectiveness of her as he fought, as he kept his body in front of hers as he shot soldier after soldier. It took her a few seconds to shake off the intense feelings it caused her before she finally jumped back into the fight.

Together, they worked on taking down the entire troop that threatened them.

They were like a well oiled machine as they ended their enemies. Iella threw knife after knife, keeping one at her side as she swept through the crowd like a shadow, swiping the knife in her hand with a deadly accuracy, knowing exactly where to aim for the weak points in their armour, thanks to Voros and his training.

Din and Cara were deadly as they shot and kicked and punched at every trooper that came their way.

Their vision was blurred in red, in bloodshed, as they fought.

The only thing that mattered was ending this fight. The repercussions didn’t matter. Iella knew more numbers on her body count would hurt, would haunt her, but it was worth it to get them out alive.

It was all she cared about.

She was sweating and breathing heavily as she fought for her life. She couldn’t remember a time she had fought so hard for so much.

Voros, who was sitting in his chair at the front of the room, was biting his lip nervously as he watched the fight ensue. He was beginning to regret training his asset as he did. He never expected his own skills to bite him in the ass the way Iella was.

But he still had one more card to play.

“Kill the Mandalorian.” He ordered the few guards at his side, forcing them to move from his protection.

Iella was fighting valiantly, holding her own, until she heard the unmistakable sound of Din crying out, the sound of his pain cutting her deep.

She slashed the trooper in front of her, not even noticing as he fell to the ground. She watched, wide eyed, as her husband fell to the ground, a group of stormtroopers hovered over him, kicking and punching him, keeping him incapacitated, unable to fight back.

They shot him, the force of the blasts against his armour causing him to jolt and wince in pain with every bone shaking shot.

Iella fought back as best she could, slashing and kicking where she could. She effectively took out the group in front of her, ready to take out the group that threatened her husband, but Voros noticed, soon realizing he was losing this battle.

He got to his feet and raced down the steps, ready to intervene.

Iella was ready to fight tooth and nail to get rid of the group that threatened Din. But she paused, horrified to the point that it stopped her in her tracks, when she noticed Din on his knees, the troopers at his sides beginning to tear his armour off, eager to get rid of what was keeping them from killing him.

Her throat closed painfully tight, realizing this was the unbelievable worst case scenario. She knew she needed to do whatever it took to keep the inevitable from happening.

She raced forward, ready to take out the ones that threatened her husband’s life, his entire being, when a harsh grip on her hair stopped her, pulling her back.

She yelped, the force of their grip causing her to lose her footing.

“No, no, darling. I’m not letting you get away that easily.” Voros crooned in her ear, his grip on her tightening, making her expression twist with anger.

She grit her teeth, forcing herself to get to her feet, which wasn’t easy with the deathly tight grip he kept on her.

“You’re Mandalorian will die painfully and there’s nothing you can do-”

Voros’ words cut off with a grunt of pain as Iella slammed her head backwards, hitting his nose. He cursed loudly, holding onto his throbbing wound as it began to gush with blood.

Iella soon made her biggest mistake.

Her attention was solely on Din, on the man she had come to love, the man she soon realized had become her biggest distraction.

Din was trying his best to fight off the troopers that dared to take off his armour, that dared to tear him away from his wife. He raised his head, his eyes meeting hers, and his entire world crumbled.

Voros held her tightly, keeping her against him and took the knife from the belt at his side. In the blink of an eye, he held it above his head, his jaw clenched with effort, and he brought the weapon down with precision.

Iella’s mouth dropped open, a stifled, choked sound of pain escaping her throat.

She looked down in shock, her eyes widening at the sight of the knife embedded in her stomach.

Voros laughed behind her, a delighted sound that enraged her.

“I told you I would win.” He whispered in her ear.

Across the room, Din watched, as if in slow motion, as Iella looked to him, a helpless expression on her face, before she fell to the floor, her muscles giving out as she felt her power drain from her quickly.

His chest heaved, pure, unadulterated fury coursing through him so blindingly, he didn’t even truly understand what was happening.

He punched blindly, quickly taking out the troopers at his side, knocking them out instantly. But he didn’t notice. The only thing he saw, the only thing he noticed, was her.

His Iella.

His wife lay on the floor, blood pouring out of her. His worst nightmare had become a reality.

He could feel himself slipping. His hands began to shake, a pathetic, whimpering sound escaping his mouth at the sight of her as he leaned on the floor, using the only strength he had left to keep him propped upwards.

“El.” He croaked, his throat constricting as he watched her gasp for air, her face twisted in pain.

The knife sticking out of her stomach was like a glowing, neon sign. It called all of his attention. It was the only thing he could see.

It was horrifying.

Voros chuckled darkly, stepping over Iella’s gasping and tortured form, his eyes focused on the Mandalorian that was trembling with rage.

“Oh, this is a tragedy, isn’t it?” He taunted. “Watching the love of your life suffer, watching the life drain from her…”

Din grit his teeth, tears steadily falling down his cheeks as he watched her writhe in pain.

“If only you’d left well enough alone. If only her damaged self thought you were good enough for her.”

The sight of Iella, stabbed and in pain, and the harshness of his words, was the last straw. Din let out a mighty roar of anger and got to his feet, swinging his fist out, catching Voros in the jaw.

Voros fought back, pulling the staff off his back and striking the Mandalorian wherever he could, looking for any weakness he could find. Though he knew the biggest weakness he had was laying on the floor bleeding out. He’d already played his biggest card.

And it made the Mandalorian sloppy.

His punches didn’t hit their target due to the tears that blurred his vision. He didn’t move with his usual agility due to the trembling of his limbs.

From the ground, Iella watched through the black spots that danced across her eyes. She whimpered softly, her eyes squeezing shut as pain radiated through her so excruciatingly. But she needed to see, she needed to make sure Din won.

Cara was across the room, still holding her own against the few troopers that remained.

That left just Voros and Din, the two of them one on one, fighting to the death.

Iella winced, her eyes widening as she watched Voros unleash his psychoticism on Din, who could barely fight back with the accuracy he usually possessed.

Din was exhausted, physically and mentally, and it wasn’t long before Voros got the best of him, launching a mighty strike against the space where his helmet ended, the spot where his armour didn’t cover, where he was vulnerable.

Din could barely gasp for breath before another blow was hitting his legs, making him grit out a grunt of pain and lose his balance.

Voros kicked him in the chest, causing him to fall to the ground. The master stood above him menacingly, his face darkened with a twisted satisfaction that made Din’s stomach clench uncomfortably.

“I’ll enjoy killing you. Just as I enjoyed killing her.” He taunted as he kneeled down next to Din. “But there’s something I’m dying to do first.”

Iella watched, her heart racing, her hands shaking over her bloodied stomach. The tears that were slowly falling down her cheeks increased, turning into steady sobs as she watched Voros place his hands on Din’s helmet.

Din struggled, trying to pry his hands off, but Voros elbowed him, making his vision blur, dizziness overwhelming him at the harsh blow.

Voros wound his hands around Din’s neck, beginning to squeeze tightly. His helmet lifted slightly, exposing the bottom inch of his jaw. He gripped onto Voros’ wrists, but he couldn’t tear the man’s grip away.

The choked sound that left him made Iella begin to panic. She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t know if she could do anything. But she knew she needed to at least try, to protect Din’s creed and his life.

She knew she was a lost cause, but she would be damned if she let Din go down with her. In a way, she always knew this would be the outcome. She always knew a sacrifice would be how this fight ended.

And, in some twisted way, she was ok with that.

Gingerly reaching down to the hilt of the knife that stuck out of her stomach, her fingers wrapped around it gently. Her eyes shifted to Voros, making sure he wasn’t looking and making sure he still didn’t have the helmet off.

She began to pull the knife, the white hot pain she felt burning even hotter and more unbearable than before.

Slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream of pain she wanted to let out, she continued to pull the knife out. Her body convulsed, her vision swirling as she felt the worst pain she ever had in her entire existence.

As soon as the knife was free, she fought the urge to pass out, using the only and quickly fading ounce of strength she had left to move herself forward.

She let out a loud cry of pain as she moved and slashed blindly.

Voros yelled in pain, anger flashing in his eyes as he stared down at the knife in his shin. Seeing the only opportunity he had and using Voros’ sudden shock to his advantage, Din quickly ripped the knife out of his shin and plunged it into his chest.

Barely conscious, Iella eyed her old master, a small smile forming on her face, full of relief, as she watched Voros stare at the both of them in shock, his eyes wide with the terrifying realization that he had lost.

For so long, Iella had dreamed of seeing that look on his face, of seeing him scared, of seeing the life drain from him.

Despite the pain she felt, she couldn’t ignore the weight that seemed to lift off her, allowing her to feel like she could finally breathe, as she watched her old master fall to the floor, blood pouring out of his mouth.

Din’s chest was heaving, eyeing the man who he held such pure hatred for as he finally succumbed to what he deserved.

As Voros took his last breath, Iella felt her body collapse. She laid her head on the floor, her chest heaving with pained, whimpering pants of pain. Her eyes fell closed with a heaviness that made it difficult to keep them open.

It became harder to keep herself tethered to consciousness with each passing second.

Hands gently cradling her cheeks made her flinch and her eyes drearily opened slowly. She saw Din above her, his hands shaking so hard they could barely keep their grip on her.

“-ease! Keep...eyes open... -ust look at me.” His frantic voice filtered in and out like crashing waves.

He sobbed as he watched her blink slowly, her skin a sickly pale colour he had never seen before. He couldn’t think straight. The only thing in his mind was no, no, no, no, no, the word screaming at him like a siren.

His hand slowly moved down towards her stomach, hovering over the bleeding wound. He let out a shaking, gasping breath when he saw how much blood there was, how much was still pouring out of her.

Acting quickly, he tore the cape off his shoulders and, as gently as he possibly could, wrapped it around her stomach. He winced, whispering apologies at her moan of pain as he lifted her slightly to move the fabric beneath her.

He tied the cape tightly, making sure it was enough pressure to press against her wound to stunt the bleeding. He knew it was tight enough when Iella cried out, her hands frantically grasping his, desperate to get the agonizing pressure off her.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He spoke through his sobs. “You’re gonna be ok. Just stay with me. Keep those eyes open for me, ok?” He pleaded to her and she nodded slowly, trying her best not to close her eyes that demanded sleep.

“We should go, get back to the ship.” Cara spoke up from across the room. She had watched Iella get stabbed with horror. When she was done fighting off the remaining troopers in the room, she moved out to the hallway, making sure there were no more coming their way.

When she was certain they were in the clear and she stepped back inside the room, she was shocked to see the master dead and the blood around Iella pooling even faster.

She could practically feel the waves of despair coming from the Mandalorian and it made her sick to her stomach.

Din didn’t budge or even acknowledge her presence when she spoke.

She stepped closer and kneeled down next to them, sparing a pained look at Iella and she quickly brushed her hand over the woman’s hair, allowing herself the briefest of caring moments to share with her.

“Din,” Cara said softly, making him flinch. It was the first time she’d ever used his name. “We have to go now if we have any chance of getting her help.”

Her words took a lagged second to register in his grief stricken brain, but he eventually nodded stiffly in understanding.

Any chance of getting her help

Those words struck an even deeper fear into him. The possibility that they wouldn’t get help in time, or that there was nothing anyone could do to help her… it was too much to fathom. His heart stuttered within his chest and he let out a ragged breath.

“Ok… ok.” He whispered, his mind working to psyche himself up for what was to come. He needed to be strong for her.

He leaned towards Iella who looked back at him worriedly. She knew what happened next would be excruciating.

“I’m so sorry.” He told her genuinely before carefully taking her limp body in his arms, which immediately stiffened as pain coursed through her at the slight movement.

Din’s eyes squeezed shut, his expression twisted in agony at the sound of his wife’s scream of pain as he lifted her in his arms. He whispered a plethora of apologies, his heart feeling heavy as he heard her pain.

It was as if a knife had been embedded in his own stomach. Just hearing it was enough to hurt him.

“It hurts.” She sobbed, her face twisted with a pain he had never seen her experience before. A pain he wished he had never seen her experience.

Fresh tears fell down his face as he heard the vulnerability in her voice. It absolutely broke him.

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry. You’re gonna be ok, but we have to hurry. You have to hold on just a little bit longer.”

Iella nodded, Din’s soft cadence stirring something inside her, despite the trauma she was experiencing.

“I’ve cleared the building but I don’t know what’s waiting for us outside. We gotta be careful.” Cara told him, expertly avoiding Iella’s gaze.

It was bad enough to look at the Mandalorian. Even with the helmet that covered his face, she could tell how devastated he was. And seeing her dear friend in pain was just about too much for her.

Din didn’t respond, his gaze was locked onto the woman in his arms that was almost unconscious from the agonizing pain she was experiencing.

“Let’s go.” Cara ordered and began to make her way out the room, only hoping that Din would be cognizant enough to follow her. She winced, the sound of Iella’s whimper of pain was the only indication she had that they were following, and it made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

“It’ll be a couple hours before we reach Nevarro. Is there a closer port where she can get help?” Cara asked as they walked rapidly through the empty corridors of the base that was now a ghost town.

Cara turned her head when she received no answer and she saw that his helmet was tilted downwards to look at Iella.

“Mando?” She prompted and his helmet raised abruptly.

“Uhh, I don’t… I’m not sure.” He answered staggeredly.

The pain she heard in his voice kept her from asking any more questions.

They moved stealthily as they made their way outside. Cara peeked around the corner, making sure there were no stragglers. Once she saw the coast was clear, she motioned them forward.

Din moved as carefully as their rapid pace allowed. He let Cara take the lead, not even flinching as she shot the occasional passerby that threatened them.

He barely even noticed.

The only thing on his mind was her.

He glanced down at her every few seconds, making sure she was still breathing, making sure her eyes were still open, causing him to nudge her gently and coax her awake when he noticed they weren’t.

It seemed like hours before they saw the stolen cargo ship on the horizon.

Cara ramped up her pace, wanting to get the engine started and ready to run by the time Din and Iella were on board. She knew time was crucial now, that they couldn’t waste even a second.

“How are you doing?” Din asked as he slowed his pace to carefully ascend the ramp of the stolen ship. He tried to keep the worry out of his tone, but it was a failed effort.

“‘M tired.” Iella mumbled softly.

Din’s stomach dropped at her words and the lazy and dull tone of her voice as she spoke them.

He was losing her and he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

He carefully lowered her to the floor, immediately pressing his hands against the tied cape around her wound, breathing out another apology as she whined in pain.

“Stop apologizing.” Iella breathed out.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“He would’ve killed you.”

“Look at what he did to you!” Din yelled frantically. He didn’t even register the low hum of the ship starting. He only held onto Iella tighter, keeping her steady as the ship lurched side to side as it began to take off.

Iella shook her head, a look of resolution overtaking her, one that chilled Din to his core.

“This was always what was going to happen. Voros was always going to get his revenge.” Iella said softly.

“You… El, c’mon. Don’t talk like-”

“You know what’s going to happen.” She interrupted. She could feel herself slipping away slowly, she could feel her energy draining more and more with each passing second.

“No!” He screamed in despair. “I’m not letting- you can’t… fuck, El, I can’t go through this again. I can’t lose you. I’ve lived without you before and I can’t do it again. I won’t survive.”

“You will, cause it’s not just you anymore. You have to look after the child.”

Din let out a harsh breath. He spared a look back, making sure Cara was still situated in the cockpit before turning back towards his wife. He let go of her, just for a second, and lifted his helmet off his head.

He refused to admit that this was it, that this was the last time he gazed upon his wife. But the cynical part of his brain told him to remove his helmet so he could look on her with his own eyes… just in case.

Iella sighed, a soft smiling coming to her pained face as she looked at him.

She reached out, her hand resting against his scruffed jaw. Din’s breath hitched and his eyes fell closed at the feeling he had learned to never take for granted. Her touch was heavenly.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. “I didn’t want to hurt you.. but, I always figured this was how it would end. I never wanted you to get involved. I never wanted him to hurt you.”

“I never wanted him to hurt you. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it, I’m sorry I couldn’t-”

“Stop. Don’t you dare put that on yourself.” She told him, as sternly as her weak state would allow. A somber expression overtook her and tears gathered in her eyes. “You have to promise me you won’t lose yourself. Promise me you’ll look after the kid and… promise me you’ll love again.”

Din’s eyes widened, a look of resentment growing and he shook his head.

“Iella, you can’t ask me-”

“Promise me you’ll love again, Din.” Iella repeated. “You deserve it, more than anyone I’ve ever known. You can’t lose it just because I’m gone.”

Din let out a shuddering breath, tears steadily falling from his eyes.

“No, I’m not…” He took a long breath in an effort to compose himself. “Iella, you are the only woman I have ever loved. You are my life, you are my sun, you are everything good in my life. Without you…” He trailed off, unable to come face to face with the inevitable unfolding before him.

Iella’s tears fell freely as she watched her husband crumble.

“There is no one like you. There will never be anyone for me but you.” Din told her earnestly.

“Din, please-”

“No. You’re going to be fine. We’ll patch you up and you’ll be ok.”

“Din, we both know you’re a smart man. You have to stop lying to yourself.” Iella said softly and he shook his head, more tears falling from his eyes as he placed his hand over hers that lay against his cheek.

He couldn’t ignore the inevitable much longer.

“I love you so much.” He sobbed, leaning down to press his forehead against hers.

Iella reached up, her fingers weaving their way through his mess of curly tresses.

“I love you.”

Din’s eyes widened, his stomach flipping pleasantly. He raised his head, his frantic gaze looking down at her in shock.

She smiled lazily, her fingers continuing their trek through his mass of curls. She didn’t know how, but she knew he always loved it. He leaned down, crashing his lips to her desperately. Iella let her eyes fall closed, allowing herself one last moment of bliss.

He pulled away after a few seconds, already missing her lips, wishing he could continue forever.

“Thank you for everything you did for me, for being so patient and understanding.”

“Stop, please.” He pleaded, his face a mask of agony. He couldn’t listen to her say goodbye. He couldn’t accept that he would have to say goodbye to her.

He refused to accept her quickly unravelling fate.

The door of the cockpit hissed open and Din quickly ducked his head out of reflex, hiding his face from whoever had opened the door. He scrambled for his helmet, placing it over his head in a second.

He looked over his shoulder and his shoulders slumped when he saw the child waddling out of the cockpit.

His large ears turned downwards when he saw the state Iella, his mother, was in and he quickly scampered towards her, a crying whine escaping him.

Din suddenly had a realization, his body perking up once again. He looked from the child to Iella and back to the child again.

“El… he can help. He can heal you!” He cried out excitedly.

Iella frowned and looked at the child who was eyeing her with the saddest expression she’d ever seen on his innocent face. It broke her heart, but she knew she couldn’t inflict that on the tiny thing.

“Din, you saw what it did to him on Nevarro. I don’t want to cause him any pain, I can’t make him go through that.”

“He was fine! You have to let him try, he can fix everything, he can-”

“Din, stop!” Iella yelled and winced immediately, gingerly placing her hand over her wound with a stifled whimper. “This is how it’s supposed to be.”

“No, that’s bullshit. I’m not letting you die for this.”

“I’ve already made my peace with it.” She said softly, calmer this time. Her tone made Din feel sick to his stomach. It was as if she had already accepted her death.

“W-what?”

“I’m tortured, Din. I’m not myself and you know it. I can never be the woman you want me to be and it kills me everytime I hurt you with some stupid fact I can’t remember.” She explained softly. “I can’t live with this version of myself and neither can you.”

Din shook his head, refusing to accept what he was hearing.

“You have to let me go-”

“No!” Din yelled angrily, his voice cracking with a sob.

“Din… I’m already gone. I’ve been gone for a long time.”

Her words made him break. He finally cracked, his sobs now flowing freely. He laid himself down next to her, his hand reaching out to cradle her cheek, turning her head to face him so he could lay his forehead against hers in the last keldabe kiss they would ever share.

“I can’t- El, I don’t think I can do this.” He cried helplessly.

“You can. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. I know you can.”

Din cried openly, the harsh reality finally descending on him like a punch to the gut.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you.” Iella told him, only making his tears fall steadier.

“I love you. I love you so much, Cyare.”

His words were barely uttered before a harsh cry of pain fell from her lips. Din flinched and instinctively pulled away, worried that he had done something to hurt her.

When her cries of pain continued, he searched frantically, his eyes finally laying on the child who held his three fingered claw to Iella’s stomach, his eyes closed in concentration as he attempted to heal her deadly wound.

Inside, he was elated. He knew her reservations about the child’s powers, but he couldn’t deny the absolute relief that flowed through him as he watched the child work his magic.

He reached out, grabbing Iella’s hand in his, which she grabbed onto like a lifeline, squeezing until he grimaced in pain.

His heart hurt, seeing her in such agony. It seemed that the child was making it worse.

Iella swallowed thickly, forcing herself to breathe through the pain inflicted from the child’s power. She felt an uncomfortable sensation in her stomach, as if she were pulling that knife out once again. It was a heat that spread over her body, until it reached her head, and then it became agonizing, like her brain was being pulled apart.

“Kid…” Din warned wearily, not understanding what exactly was happening. It wasn’t until a piercing, shrill scream sounded from his wife and he saw Iella’s back arch, her body shivering and writhing away from the child’s touch, that he knew he needed to intervene.

“Hey, Kid, stop, stop! You’re hurting her!” He yelled.

The child only continued, focusing hard on his powers. Din launched himself forward, moving to pull him away, when the child stumbled to the ground, his big eyes slowly blinking until they fell closed. Wide eyed and shocked, Din looked down at Iella who was still panting in pain.

But the colour had returned to her cheeks.

His heart beat rapidly and, before he could get his hopes up, he moved to check her wound, pulling the cape away from her stomach with shaking hands, praying in his mind frantically that it had worked.

He let out a ragged breath, relief overwhelming him when he saw her tanned skin, unmarred.

“El?” He called out quietly.

Iella’s chest was heaving, her face still screwed tightly in pain. Her hands moved to cover her face, her hands trembling slightly. She was worrying him.

He hovered over her, gently taking her hands in his. “Are you ok? What’s happening?” He asked desperately, her reaction confusing him. He thought she’d be relieved to be healed, but she was beginning to scare him.

“I remember.” She choked out, her voice weak and frail sounding, it was barely distinguishable.

But Din heard.

His heart jumped, skipping what he figured was too many beats to be healthy. His hands shook as he leaned over her, brushing the hair out of her eyes, needing to see those eyes of hers to ground himself, to make himself believe that this was real.

“W-what?”

Iella looked at him with reverence, like she was seeing him clearly for the first time.

“I remember everything.”

Welp... hope you enjoyed xx

Tags: @cosmo-bear @lavenderl3mons @starfirette @the-feckless-wonder @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @lil-baby27 @promiscuoussatan @assassinsasha23 @killtherandomness @dartheldur @remmyswritings @boomtownboy@saramelcky @frietiemeloen @thefact0rygirl @fantasyfan4ever @thirstyb-ches @lilliannaansalla @starlite41 @wantingtobekorra @moobaggg @altarsw

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine

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shotofire · 4 years ago

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505

TODORKI x F!READER

•Overview: a short fic based on the song “505” by Arctic Monkeys

•Warnings: smut, cursing, toxic relations

•Season: not within a certain season, set after highschool

All characters are 18+ in this fic, so you should be too.

I’m going back to 505

If it’s a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive

In my imagination you’re waiting, lyin’ on your side

With your hands between your thighs

Todoroki stares out the train’s window with a blank expression. He couldn’t believe he was doing this shit to himself again. Letting (y/n) convince him to come over on a late night. He knew she’d be waiting for him in the most provocative position, probably already touching herself. The ride only had a few minutes left before he reached her.

She was going to take advantage of his feelings for her just like the last visit, and the many times before that. He’d been in love with her since the second their eyes met on the first day at UA. Of course (y/n) wasn’t in the same boat, relationships weren’t her thing at the time and still aren’t.

He drags his feet up the stairs of her apartment complex. The weight on his shoulders was too much to bare yet he kept going. He kept coming back with a smile, all to see her. The man just wanted to be around her, even if it hurt.

Knuckles tapped against the red wooden door in front of him, the numbers 505 nailed to it. The pit in his stomach began to form as always. The feelings for her were only going to grow after tonight, he was well aware of this but he keeps coming back.

(y/n)’s silky voice told him to come in, the feeling of lust from her was prominent. His eyes softened at the sight of the women on the black couch in only a bra and underwear, and one of her hands was snaked into her panties. The other toyed with her chest, a smirk plastered across her face.

Stop and wait a sec

Oh, when you look at me like that, my darling

What did you expect?

I probably still adore you with your hands around my neck

Or I did last time I checked

Her eyes were darkened with desire and lust. She takes her hand out of her underwear to motion him closer. He could only think about how beautiful she looked right now. Hair a slight mess after a lazy day, lips bitten red, cheeks flushed, she was truly breathtaking. This image would be imbedded in his mind forever.

Todoroki’s feet moved as his mind raced, frame towering over hers as she still rested on the couch. She smirks at him before standing up, fingers coming to trace his jaw and neck. The two didn’t say a word, only colliding lips in a hungry kiss. His hands cup underneath her thighs to lift her up, legs wrapped around his waist.

She looped one arm around his neck as the other got tangled in his red and white hair. He couldn’t help but moan at the feeling, her touch sent electricity through him. He was under a complete spell when she was around. It didn’t matter if he was in the middle of doing something he’d rush to her appartment in an instant. Anything to have her attention, even if they had different ideas of what they truly wanted from one another.

He carries her to the bedroom while lips and tongues continue to fight for dominance. He drops her onto the soft mattress before diving into her neck, leaving one sloppy kiss after another. She lets out the most lewd noises that send shocks straight to his manhood.

The sounds she makes has to be his favorite thing in the world. It was pure music to his ears, it’s something he’ll never get tired of.

Soon his clothes are scattered on the floor and the undergarments that remained on her were discarded as well. He looked at her naked body with love in his eyes, but the only thing hers held were lust.

Not shy of a spark

The knife twist at the thought that I should fall short of the mark

Frightened by the bite but it’s no harsher than the bark

Middle of adventure, such a perfect place to start

Hips hit one another as moans filled the room. He pampered her face and chest with kisses as her mouth hung open in pure bliss. There was a reason she kept calling Todoroki back here, he knew how to make her feel good. No one reached the peak of pleasure like he did.

The feelings of pleasure and pain mixed within the poor mans chest. It felt as if a knife had been stuck straight into his heart. Knowing he didn’t measure up to all of her desires. He wanted it to be more than sex, more than lust, more than this. He knows nothing is going to change yet he keeps coming back, keeps satisfying her even though he leaves with his heart more broken than before.

If only she knew she help the knife that was taking away his happiness each time he returned. The love he has for her stops him from thinking about his own well being. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. There was no getting out as long as she kept calling him back.

As his member moved within her walls it didn’t feel right. There was no true meaning behind this, there was no gain for him. It was all about her, all about the way she felt. Each time this happens he tries to make her feel better than the time before, hoping the actions will somehow convince her to just love him back. To need him as much as he needed her.

I’m going back to 505

If it’s a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive

In my imagination you’re waitin’ , lyin’ on your side

With your hands between your thighs

All the times he’s been here begin to flood his mind. He can’t believe he’s let (y/n) take advantage of his feelings so much. He knows she’s fully aware of how he feels for her, how he’s felt for years, yet she continues to punish him like this.

He lets her take bit by bit of him, and soon there’s going to be nothing left to take.

The headboard begins to slam into the wall harder as his takes out his pent anger and frustration. She’s been playing him for years, using him, and holding him back. He could’ve been with someone who actually loved him back, he could’ve been happy.

Her moans increase and a smile of pleasure is plastered across her flawless face. He watches as her eyes close and she throws her head back with enjoyment. Deep down he wished she wouldn’t enjoy it, that she thought it’d be the worst sex she’s ever had and didn’t want him to dive between her thighs ever again.

She’d stop calling him late at night with a needy voice, and he wouldn’t be stuck on this endless loop of hurt.

But I crumble completely when you cry

It seems like once again you’ve had to greet me with goodbye

I’m always just about to go and spoil the surprise

Take my hands off of your eyes too soon

Todoroki’s love for (y/n) grew every minute he spent with her. It didn’t matter if he was breaking inside at the same time, she just had that effect on him. It’s what made things so much harder.

Tears brimmed in the corner of both their eyes, his in pain and hers in pleasure. She rocked her hips to meet his and gasped at the feeling, it was overwhelming in the best way possible. The tears rolled down her cheeks as she called out his name breathlessly.

His heart panged in his chest at the sight. Why couldn’t she feel the same things he felt? Where did he go wrong? Everything starts to hurt as soon as he walks into her appartment. Knowing at the end of the night he’s going to leave. It’s as if it’s already a goodbye when the two begin to kiss.

Tears fall from his face onto her neck and she feels them. Her eyes open to see how broken he is, what she’s done to him. But she feels nothing for him, seeing him like this isn’t going to change anything.

She throws her head back once again as she reaches her high, back arching and moans increasing. Her walls tighten around him and he lets a moan slip at the feeling. His movements only increase to soon reach his end, biting his swollen lips. He slams his hips into hers in one hard thrust before letting go inside of her.

His body falls next to hers in a fit of heavy breathing, and as always, no words are spoken.

I’m going back to 505

If it’s a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive

In my imagination you’re waitin’ , lyin’ on your side

With your hands between your thighs and a smile

He stares up at the ceiling that he knows all too well while his head spins, and his body feeling numb. He’s came here once again, did what he was wanted for, and soon he’ll be leaving.

(y/n) has her forearm resting on top of her eyes, trying to catch her breath. Each are glistening in sweat. He turns his head to look at her, admiring the way her hair sprawls out on the pillow beneath her and how red bitten her lips are. She was a devil but disguised herself as an angel.

Her breathing began to slow down and her body relaxed. She’s fallen asleep, out of energy from the events that just unfolded. He knows this is his que to leave he wasn’t welcome to sleep over. The times he’s done that have resulted in her waking up saying she had company coming, something to do or somewhere to be. He knew it was all a lie to get him to go, he was only wanted for one thing.

He gathers his clothes then slips into them, and then checks the time. It was nearly two in the morning and he looked like he just got wrecked. Hair sticking in every direction, a fresh hicky on his neck, and lipstick stains on his lips.

A shiver runs through (y/n)’s body and he notices. He grabs the blanket that sits at the bottom of her bed and covers her naked frame. He pushes the stray hairs out of her face and presses a light feathery kiss to her forehead.

She was a beautiful sight right now, as always. He only wishes he could lay next to her and hold her, make her feel loved. But he knew she wasn’t interested in feeling that way, it would’ve happened by now.

A tear escapes his eyes and he sniffles. It hurt even more this time to leave. Why did he have to care so much? Why did he have to love so hard?

He wiped the tears and whispered, “goodbye.”

Even though he knew he’d be back, wether that be in a few days or a few weeks. It wouldn’t be long before she took advantage of him once again.

He left with a new piece of his heart within her grasp.

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animemangasoul · 4 years ago

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You Are Wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summery: Qui-Gon lives and Mace gets a new Padawan.

In which Qui-Gon repudiates Obi-Wan and Mace isn't about to let the kid leave the order without a fight.

Chapter: 1/10

"No luck?"

Mace sighed.

Walking through the door only to come face to face with his former Padawan sprawled across his couch especially after the trying day he's had only served to make his shoulders tighten further. "What are you doing here Depa?" he asked doing his best to keep the exhaustion out of his voice.

His fellow council member raised a single eyebrow in reply.

Mace sighed again, hand running over his face and pulling at his chin. "No," he finally answered. "No luck." And if voicing his failings didn't already sour his mood, seeing the flash of disappointment in Depa's eyes drove it home.

"There is nothing wrong with Obi-Wan," she huffed. Her annoyance bleeding into the force as she observed him go about preparing his own afternoon meal along with hers now that she'd decided to make herself at home in his apartment.

"I know," he said, bringing out cups and plates while he waited for their dinner to heat up; not even contemplating asking Depa for assistance as he well knew by this point he could never make her set a foot inside the kitchen after that 'incident'. "But with his prior records and Qui-Gon,"--the Chalactan woman snorted in disgust and Mace paused to send her a warning glare. "having repudiated him," he continued doing his best to clam down on his own anger when the words leave his mouth. "Not many are willing to take a second look."

Walking over to sit by the dinner table Depa sighed; the force muted with her sadness. "It's a cruel faith being stripped of your future because one man has decided to upend all traditions because he thinks himself some kind of force whisperer," she dragged the last words out rather mockingly inciting a snort from Mace which then resulted in him trying and failing to give her another stern glare.

Annoyed as he was with the other man, insulting him was not a productive endeavor. Still, he couldn't fault his former Padawan for her bitterness towards his old friend. Qui-Gon certainly did parade around as if he was the only man blessed with the true gift of the force. "Hopefully young Kenobi still has a future as a Jedi," he said, setting down their plates. "I just need to find one Master who is willing to take him on. He only needs a year or two before he is ready for his Trials."

Depa hummed in agreement but the force swivelling around her was still leaking uncertainty if only a little. Clapping his former student on the shoulder, Mace let encouragement wash over her as he sat down. "Do not worry yourself," he said letting go when he the tension finally eased out of her body.

Companiable silence falls between them after that, the worry for Obi-Wan still lingering in the air but for now, both willing to put it aside to share the little time they rarely get to spend together to its fullest. It's only after the table is cleared and Depa has found her way back to his couch that she speaks on the topic again.

"How is he by the way?"

Staring forlorn at the dirty dishes and missing the good old days when he could make little Depa wash up as part of her training while he excused himself for a short nap, Mace shook his head and made his way over to the opposite coach, leaving the dishes for tomorrow. "He's doing well," he said, folding his legs under him. "All things considered. He's healing."

Depa pursed her mouth. "He's the Sith-killer and we can't even give him an automatic knighting because--" She bit her tongue before the words slipped out, but Mace knew very well what she was going to say.

'Because Qui-Gon is still alive.'

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had both survived the battle of Naboo. Survived the Sith. And while Obi-Wan had accomplished a feat no other, saved his master and come out alive; baring the heavy injuries sustained both men, by saving Qui-Gon Jinn the young man had unknowingly sealed his own faith.

Not that Mace wasn't immensely grateful his old friend had gotten away with his life. But--

With Qui-Gon alive, Obi-Wan could not be Knighted without taking the Trials and to everyone's horror the boy's Master was not willing to wait for him to be ready for them.

No, Qui-Gon had made it quite clear how little he thought of his student's well being when he so cruelly disregarded him in front of the Council, repudiated him and thrown him away in hopes of training young Anakin Skywalker. Mace stomach coiled in disgust just thinking of that day. That moment….. With Qui-Gon standing in the middle of the room, an uncertain Anakin next to him and a distinct lack of Obi-Wan by his side. Qui-Gon had declared for all to hear that he would be training Skywalker and if that could only come to be with Kenobi out of the way, so be it.

Obi-Wan hadn't even been there to defend himself. Submerged in a bacta tank as he was, fighting for his very life and---

Clenching his fists, it's all Mace can do to carefully release his anger into the force and close his eyes against the onslaught of memories. Obi-Wan's clear eyes staring up at him from a hospital bed in abject disbelief, having woken up to a broken bond and a hair distinctly lacking a familiar braid.

The fact Qui-Gon hadn't even had the respect, the heart to tell the poor boy face to face. That he had unbraided his hair while Obi-Wan was still….. That he hadn't explained anything. He…. Mace was a Jedi,

"He…. repudiated….me?”

Mace hadn't known what to say. Standing there in the Halls of Healing, staring down at the too sickly, too skinny, too haunted man in the hospital bed. Mace hadn't known what to say.

What could one say in the face of absolute devastation?

So he had just stood there, seconds ticking by, eyes unable to break away from the dull blue-gray ones of young Obi-Wan Kenobi. Unable to speak, unable to console, unable to utter the words he knew would shatter whatever remained of the fragile sense of self-worth the kid had left.

Finally, as the auburn haired man swallowed thickly, looking away, Mace regained his speech.

Sitting down heavily in the chair stationed by the bed, he'd folded his hands under his chin and lowered his voice into an almost gentle hum. "Yes, he did. In front of the council, a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh."

That single word crumbled something in Mace he hadn't known he ever had.

Kenobi looked so small. Thin fingers clutching at the white covers, bottom lip red from being gnawed bloody, hair damp from recently having been brought out of the bacta tank and eyes swimming with such hopelessness it left the Korun man's heart with dull sense of ache he didn't quite know how to deal with.

Mace Windu was a Jedi. Controlling and releasing his emotions into the force was by now a habit as easy to him as breathing.

Nothing got under his skin, nothing pained him for long. He was focused, he was disciplined and by all accounts he was never brought to the edge of absolute fury. But looking into those gray-blue eyes. Seeing young Kenobi trying so hard to keep himself from crying. Watching the young man chest heave in futile attempt not to collapse in on himself. The destruction of a bright light, of a hopeful child ruthlessly turned into a broken young man at the hands of someone who should have known better---

Mace was a Jedi and his emotions did not rule him.

They did not. And yet, and yet….

So he pressed his fingers against his knees, nails biting into the skin beneath his clothes and he looked Obi-Wan Kenobi dead in the eyes and firmly; without pity, laid out the decree of the council. Explained what precarious position the kid found himself in; all the while being oh so careful not to let his voice catch on the lump choking him from within.

Now that Kenobi had been repudiated he was no longer a Padawan and if the council had followed the Jedi Code to the letter, he should have been expelled or relocated to the ServiceCop or the AgroCorp the minute Qui-Gon had disowned him, but this wasn't an ordinary situation and Kenobi, well, Kenobi was anything but an ordinary Jedi.

So, "with your unique circumstances," Mace had said, hand resting by the kid's knee just in case the proximity dispelled the harshness of Obi-Wan's new reality or even brought the kid some semblance of comfort. "the council has concluded that you will be given six weeks to find a new Master to complete your training and 'if' that Master is deemed acceptable by the council." Mace did his best to emphasize the 'if' for it meant any young Knight trying to do Obi-Wan a favor while having nothing of their own to actually teach him were automatically ruled out; force knew the kid had plenty of friends who would step up to the task (just the thought of recently Knighted Quinlan Vos boldly declaring himself Obi-Wan's new Master gave Mace a headache. If the sheer embarrassment didn't kill Kenobi, Quinlan's teachings surely would.) "Then your apprenticeship will be transferred to them until you're deemed ready for your Trails."

Obi-Wan had nodded, fingers tracing unknown patters on the cover. "I assume you have already spoken to a fair number of potential Masters?"

There is a certain ease to his voice, the raspiness behind it the only thing giving away how hard the kid was trying to cover up the burnt edges of his anguish. Even after Mace had seen with his own two eyes how Kenobi; as soon as the visible grief of his former Master's betrayal had run its course, gathered himself up. Taking a deep breath and then as if it was an artform storing away his emotions, carefully and meticulously behind unreadable eyes until a hurt child once again transformed back into a composed young man.

It was…… concerning the ease with which Kenobi could look as if his entire world hadn't just been shattered into pieces.

"I have." he had said in answer; swallowing down the bitterness of his own failure and watching as Obi-Wan's fingers darted across the knuckles of his outstretched hand (that Mace had yet to move) almost as if unconsciously seeking out comfort; only for the young man to then realize what he'd done making him flinch away. Mace nearly scowled in distress 'What had Qui-Gon done to this child?!'. "Unfortunately I have yet to find a Master willing to take on a Padawan your age," he managed to finish.

"Ironic isn't it?" Obi-Wan muttered, self deprecating amusement dancing in his eyes. It took Mace a second to grasp the context behind the words but when he did, a sardonic smirk pulled at his lips.

"Yes," he said. "It is."

For it was. To be rejected for a child too old to become a Padawan, only to turn around and find yourself the one who is now too old to be anyone's Padawan. Ironic indeed.

And so very awful.

They had talked about nothing of note after that. Obi-Wan content in pretending nothing outside the four walls of his room existed and Mace wanting to indulge him, just this once.

Still, even though he regaled the kid with stories, particularly of that one time Master Yoda had kidnapped him to lure five other Masters away from a council meeting, his brain was still running through potentially willing Masters for the child he was so unwilling to give up on just yet.

"I would take him if I could."

Depa's words managed to bring him back to the present with an abruptness he wasn't ready for.

He blinked, once, twice. Then sighed deeply as he closed his eyes. "I know."

Depa shifted across from him. "His time is nearly up."

Mace tensed. "He still has two more weeks left."

Now it's her who uttered "I know."

A suffocating silence once again wrapped itself around them. This one hinging on uncertainty, worry and concern. Emotions that swiftly were released into the force and yet lingered in the room like an unspoken blemish. Finally Depa spoke. Her words nothing but a whisper but holding all the strength of an ocean slamming against the shores of Mace's stability.

"You could take him."

It's not a question, not quite a suggestion either. It's more like…… a promise.

Mace startled, eyes flying open. "What?" He had expected much from her, maybe a suggestion of one of Kenobi's little Knight friends taking him on, which he would have soundly rejected but not this. This was unexpected to say the least.

Depa only shrugged away his incredulity. "You could take him as your Padawan learner. He would only need a year or two at most like you said and Kenobi is mild tempered, level-headed and a quick study, you would get along great." She said it all with such casualness and certainty Mace couldn't help but stare.

Crossing her arms and folding her knees under her in a mirror image of him, Depa lifted a single eyebrow. "You cannot tell me you have not considered this?"

Mace bit back a wince. "Of course I have. Unfortunately that doesn't."

Depa cut him off. "Why not?"

If there was anyone who feared him less than Depa; excluding their green troll of a Grandmaster, Mace had yet to meet them. And now watching as she stared him down, Mace was torn between pride and indignity. "You know why." He gritted out, mindful to keep his voice even. "I'm Master of the Order. I will not have the time to train him properly. My duties are on Coruscant. Young Obi-Wan will need someone to go on missions with him, look out for him and I'm afraid I cannot do that."

If he'd thought his words would discourage his former student, he was wrong. Now she looked even more resolute than before he'd made his argument.

"May I remind you Obi-Wan is Senior Padawan. He does not require someone to hold his hand every step of the way." Here a ghost of a smile grace her lips. "He is only a year or so away from his Trials, Mace. He is supposed to take solo missions by now. You just need to oversee the remaining of his training, help him polish a couple of things and he'll be ready." Her eyes flickered with something too fast to detect. "Please Mace, at least think about it."

He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. "Obi-Wan deserves someone who can devote their time on him," he said yet the idea running through his mind with possibilities.

Kenobi deserved better than what Mace could provide. Especially after Qui-Gon. Especially after the countless setbacks, traumas and horrors the kid had been through. He didn't deserve a Master who wouldn't always be there even if the kid only needed minimal help at this point. "I may not be what he needs?"

Now Depa was glaring at him. "Maybe it's about time people stopped assuming what is best for Obi-Wan and started giving him the chance to choose what he thinks is best for him? And maybe it's about time he received the knowledge that he is actually wanted for once in his life?!" The last words are said with such vehemence Mace is momentarily stunned.

Quickly as the anger came it vanished, leaving behind a sheepish smile and mildly apologetic eyes. But Depa did not take her words back.

Mace couldn't find it in himself to scold her. After all, wasn't that the root of Obi-Wan's issues? How everyone kept assuming what was best for him, never once listening to what he wanted?

Would it be wrong for Mace then to lay his cards on the table. To ask? The kid did not have to accept; although Mace would be disappointed if he didn't. But to ask, he could do that, couldn't he? Let the kid know that he wished to train him, had always seen the potential in him. Might have taken him on from the very beginning if Depa hadn't still been his Padawan. That he would see him to Knighthood if Kenobi let him. What would be the harm in that?

"When he's released from the Halls of Healing where will he go?"

The abrupt change in topic makes the Korun man blink up at his for Padawan in confusion.

"Without a Master," she continued eyes glinting with something. "He will be relocated to the Initiate dorms will he not?"

Mace was already shaking his head before the question had fully left her lips. "No."

"No?"

He nodded. "He will move in with me until a Master chooses to claimed him as a Padawan."

Now the glint in Depa's eyes are all but twinkling like stars but why…..

Mace own eyes widen in realization.

He hadn't thought much of it. Having just assumed Obi-Wan would stay with him until a Master stepped forward to accept him. Hadn't even contemplated putting the traumatized young man with the Initiates. In a way, he had already made his choice days ago, hadn't he? And of course Depa had see right through him to a part he hadn't even been aware off.

If he was a lesser man, Mace might have flushed red with embarrassment having essentially claimed Kenobi as his own Padawan without knowing. But he was Mace Windu, Master of the Order, so all he let himself get away with was a huff and a slight twitch of his mouth. "Looks like my mind has already decided what my head has yet to conclude."

Depa answering smile is teasing. "Seems so."

The relief that hits him at those words is almost staggering. Knocking into his chest and nearly toppling him back against the headrest.

He'd been worried, angry, concerned and at his wits end these past couple of weeks. Knowing he was letting Obi-Wan down every day he was politely rejected by another Master who'd seen Obi-Wan's records, heard of his repudiation and refused to take a chance on him. Knowing Qui-Gon repudiating him had essentially sealed the young man's faith. Feeling disgusted by the false rumours of Kenobi's insubordination, and having to go see him every evening watching the light flicker out of his eyes as each shred of hope he had of being a Knight was torn away from him.

In the end it was all so very simple wasn't it.

The minute the kid had looked at him with those eyes, Mace had known.

He would never let him go without a fight. Not Kenobi. Never Kenobi.

It didn't matter how busy his schedule was he would make time for Obi-Wan if he accepted him. No longer would he stand by and watch those hunched shoulders trailing after the rigged figure of one Qui-Gon Jinn. No longer would he stand by and let the kid be used to wash away someone else's darkness.

Obi-Wan Kenobi would be his Padawan.

Overwhelmed by the sheer sense of calmness that washed over him, Mace momentarily closed his eyes and breathed. Releasing all the emotions clinging to him into the force. Worry, anger, fear, concern, care and most of all pure, unwavering protectiveness.

If he had something to say about it, and he did. Qui-Gon would never step a foot near the kid ever again.

"Do you think he will take to Vaapad as quickly as you did?" He asked as his composure fell into place and his eyes sought out his former student.

The startled laugh that burst out of Depa made a sharp smile twist at the corner of his mouth.

"Maybe Soresu is more is speed," she lightly jabbed back.

Tilting his head; playful for those who knew to spot the miniscule changes in his expression, Mace glared. "Don't you even think about interfering Kenobi's lightsaber studies behind my back."

Depa looked amused. "Wouldn't dream of it." But then the mirth vanished and gave way to contentment. "It would be nice," she said. "Finally having a Padawan sibling."

Mace found himself smiling, gentler this time. "It would."

They share a smile before Depa is on her feet, making her way to the door. "Best to inform Obi-Wan of your decision as soon as possible," she called over her shoulder. "He'll be out of the Halls in three days time."

Mace stared and stared. And then, stared some more.

"This was your plan all along, wasn't it?" he said out loud, not quite believing she managed to manipulate him so thoroughly . "You came here today to coax me into accepting Kenobi as my apprentice."

Depa doesn't look back at him, but she doesn't have to. The Force danced around her with mirth and shades of guilt for having deceived him. The Korun man could only let himself shake his head, heart tugging with pride at how much his little spitfire had grown while also frowning in realization. "Depa." he said firmly, but his former Padawan was already palming open the door.

"Don't be like that Master," she said turning back to give him a final look, the familiar title she only used sparingly coming out of her mouth with overflowing warmth and fondness. "We both know I only guided you to the decision you wanted to make all along."

She was right. Still,

"I don't like to be manipulated Padawan mine."

She only smiled. Mischief in her eyes and a single dimple creasing her left cheek before she was gone, vanishing out the door.

Mace was left sitting alone in his living room. A mirroring smile painting his lips and chest for the first time since Naboo filled with nothing but anticipated flicker of hope.

To go from being repudiated one day to being the Padawan of Mace Windu, Master of the Order few weeks later….. Kenobi would have hell of a time trying to compute the insanity of the news coming his way tomorrow.

Mace hoped Obi-Wan Kenobi he slept well tonight for both their sakes.

The next couple of weeks would be….. Hectic to say the least.

The end

Believe it or not the idea that Depa's preferred form is Soresu is half the reason why I wrote this fic. Just her taking Obi as her unofficial baby brother and helping him on his path to becoming a Master at Soresu makes me all giddy, so here you have it.

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan fanfic #star wars #star wars fanfic #mace windu #qui gon a+ parenting #seriously if you like him avoid reading this #depa billaba #padawan obi wan #fanfic #fanfiction #star wars fanfic chapter 1 #Mace is best dad #my very first long star wars fic so be kind please #you are wanted obi-wan kenobi

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heyheydidjaknow · 4 years ago

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Insert interesting AN here. It's like 2 in the morning.

Chapter 13

He finally speaks. “This isn’t going to work if you keep moving around.”

You dig your nails into your palms as he pulls another shard from your back. “I know. Still hurts.”

A pause. “I could ask Master Splinter to let you have some alcohol to numb it if you want.” His voice throughout the whole process has been incredibly soft, from since you woke up in his room until now. “The skin disinfectant is going to sting more than this.”

“I’ll drink myself to death,” you promise, half-joking in an attempt to lighten the suffocating mood. “Seeing how the past couple months have gone, I should probably just get used to pain, right?”

He pulls another piece of blood-soaked glass from your skin, placing it into a can at his side with a clink. “I really hope that doesn’t happen.” You feel him pull another portion of the skin on your back taught. “The pain thing, I mean. Not to say that I want you to drink yourself to death—”

“I get what you mean.” You try to keep an eye on him without moving your neck, not wanting to get blood on his sheets. “I’m the same way about the murdering thing.”

Silence, again.

“How’s the cockroach thing going?”

“It’s going.” He is quick if nothing else; he is already three-quarters of the way done, now at your waist. “It seemed to be working alright this morning, so it should work tonight if I’m lucky.”

You smile gently. “That’s good, then. You’re due for some good luck.”

“Of the two of us?” He leans to the side from his seat on his chair, studying your face. “I think you need it more than I do.”

You laugh. “Most teenagers boys don’t have half-naked girls on their beds because of medical reasons,” you argue. “I’d say you dealing with me is worthy of some good mojo.”

“The portal wouldn’t have been destroyed if not for you.” He leans back, pulling a particularly large piece out of your hip. “We wouldn’t even know what their ultimate plan was, what to look out for, what to expect.” He bends down, and you hear the gurgling of a liquid being poured out. “Besides,” he reasons, “it was as much my fault as yours for not thinking of the glass walls. It’s the least I could do.”

You bite down on your tongue as he starts wiping the blood off. “Shit,” you hiss, “that stings.”

A hint of excitement laces his tone. “Wanna know why?”

Your jaw relaxes as the pain subsides. “Sure,” you chuckle, strained. “Why does it hurt?”

“Well,” he starts, “this antiseptic, like most antiseptics, is comprised mainly of two compounds: ethanol, or just normal grain alcohol, and hydrogen peroxide.” He sounds like a passionate schoolteacher when he goes off about anything science-related. It is absolutely enrapturing, listening to someone so in love with their craft. “Now, ethanol activates vanilloid receptor-one, which is also activated by capsaicin, which is what makes food spicy. But the funny thing about that,” he continued, “is that, usually, the receptor is only activated by really high temperatures—the receptor is what lets you register hot things as hot.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know about medical stuff.” You wince again as he continues to clean your wounds.

“Oh, I’m just not good at applied medicine,” he chuckles nervously. “None of the serious stuff, I mean; I’d never be able to perform a proper surgery or prescribe medications without a ridiculous amount of research, but I know how to set bones and how certain chemicals react to certain receptors.”

“So, you know how it works but not how to fix it?”

“I guess so, yeah.” You hear the chair move as he gets to his feet. “I started looking into it the first night you came here, actually, since I never looked into how burns worked until…” he trails off, clears his throat. “Anyway,” he tries again, “ethanol lowers the temperature threshold to body temperature, making the cut burn. It’s also why it’s painful to drink things with a high alcohol content: your receptors register it as if you’re actually being burned.” He pushes your hair off your neck carefully. “Hydrogen peroxide acts similarly, only it activates a different receptor, known as transient receptor potential ankyrin one, and while not as much as known about it, it’s theorized that it acts similarly, resulting in you feeling pain.” Your fingernails dig into your palms again as you suck in air at the burning sensation on your neck. “But it’s important to note that antiseptics are different than disinfectants. Disinfectants are for non-organic surfaces because they contain higher concentrations of biocides than antiseptics.”

You exhale as the pain subsides. “Have you used antiseptics before now?”

“Of course.” You feel him start to place things—they feel like pads—on your back. “But I made sure to account for the differences in skin types, so unless I made a big mistake at some point, the odds of you getting chemical burns is close to zero.”

“Your confidence is very reassuring,” you grin. “By any chance, do you plan on reimbursing the cost of cutting my shirt up?”

“Nah,” he shrugs. “Was planning on having you walk out of here in the middle of fall in NYC without a shirt to make double sure you get hypothermia. As you said, we have to add to your list of injuries.”

“Of course,” you “nod’ knowingly, cracking yourself up. “No pain, no game.”

“Glad to be on the same page.” He sighs. “Honestly, I don’t have a ton of fabric to fix your shirt or jacket, so unless you have some on hand—”

Your response is immediate. “You take my shirt and fix it,” you interrupt. “If one of them is going, it sure as hell ain’t gonna be that fucking jacket.”

He blinks. Your words register after a second.

“I do not mean it in—I mean—” you immediately backpedal. “I’m not—you get what I mean, right?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I know what you—yeah.” He is doing absolutely nothing to help the embarrassment. “I got it; i-in hindsight, I probably should have tried taking the jacket off, but I was worried I’d cut your skin up more.”

You press your face into the mattress as you feel what you assume is tape being laid along your sides. “I appreciate it.” A pause. “I don’t actually remember what happened after the main explosion happened. What…”

No response. You feel his knee sink to the bed as he reaches over, applying the adhesive on the other side of your skin quietly.

“I don’t wanna know?”

“Probably not.” His hand presses the creases flat into the curve of your back, sighing again.

You smile nervously. “I made a fool of myself, then?”

“… I wouldn’t say that.” He applied another pad to your neck. “Just—for glass rain, you were pretty calm, I’d say.”

“For glass rain,” you highlight. “Seeing as I don’t remember it, I can’t imagine it was good.”

He removes his hands. “I honestly don’t know why what happened happened,” he admits. “Just know that the guys are probably not going to give you a hard time for it.”

“Probably?” You finally turn your head to look at him.

He shrugs, gently turning your head back. “Mikey, sadly, seems to get it more than we do, so that’s two.”

You lick your lips absentmindedly. “Hey,” you shrug, “I’ll take fifty percent.”

You feel a heavy blanket drape over your back. “I still have to get the glass out of your hair, and I don’t have anything else for you to wear, so this’ll have to do. I won’t look while you adjust it.”

Your eyes strain to check. Sure enough, you watch him turn around and face the opposing wall.

You sit up, pulling the blanket around yourself to save your modesty. “You’re good. Need me to turn around?”

“Uh, yeah.”

You lift yourself, careful of your leg as you reposition yourself to have your back to him. “Thanks for this, if I haven’t said it already.”

“It’s no problem.” Fingers part your hair, tweezers now attached to your scalp. “You should see the stupid injuries I’ve had to help my brothers with.”

“I bet,” you feel yourself grinning. “I’m surprised you guys haven’t torn each other to shreds yet.”

“There have been close calls.” You hear the clinking of the can again. “Especially after getting our hands on weapons when we did. You would not believe the number of concussions we had.”

You put your hands up for dramatic effect. “Madness.”

“You laugh,” he laughs, “but figuring out our anatomy to any degree of accuracy was hard enough. I’m convinced Mikey messed Raph up with his nunchaku when we were ten.”

You let him move your head. “This I gotta hear.”

“Oh, it isn’t a really interesting story,” Donnie clarifies. “He just accidentally hit Raph in the head too hard during training and almost caved in his skull.”

You try not to laugh. “What counts as an interesting story, then?”

“Well,” he contemplates, “there was that time with the oven.”

You turn to look at him the best you can with the limited movement he allowed. “The time with the oven?”

“Wax paper catches fire if you put it in the oven.”

You nod, turning back. “Was it you or Mikey?”

“A bit of both.” Clink. Clink. “I thought wax paper implied paper made of some sort of wax, and Mikey was trying to make decorative candles. The theory,” he continues, clearly trying to make himself not sound stupid, “was that putting it in the oven would get more consistent heat throughout the wax.”

You try to hide your amusement for his sake. “I take it that didn’t pan out.”

“It did not.” He chuckled dryly, combing his fingers through your hair to feel for glass. “Splinter was so mad, I thought we wouldn’t see tomorrow.”

Your fingers clench as his hand catches. “Not so harsh,” you breathe in pain. “You’re gonna rip my hair out.”

“Oh, sorry.” He removed his hand. “I forgot it was—that’s stupid,” he edits. “I’m not used to dealing with hair is what I meant.”

“It’s alright,” you reassure him quickly. “Just try not to tug so hard.”

“I don’t think there’s any glass left anyways, so.” You hear the chair wheel away from the bed. “That probably won’t be a problem.”

You turn around properly, adjusting the blanket over your torso. “Thank you for all your help.”

His eyes flicker downward for a second before staring directly and deliberately at your face. “You’re welcome,” he nods, not moving his eyes. “You were incredibly easy to work with.”

“You made quick work of it.” Your legs cross over another, your worn sneaker matching the color of the concrete floor. “And don’t worry about my shirt; I have to go shopping, anyways.”

He blinks. “Why?”

“Well,” you reason, “My clothes are already kinda worn, and I’ve been meaning to buy leather gloves for a while, so it would give me an excuse to go look for a good pair.”

“Leather gloves?”

You nod. “I was hashing it out with Casey, and he agreed they would look badass and cover up my hand scars.”

“You know,” he suggests, poorly feigning nonchalance, “I could make you some.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I have the know-how, and I’m pretty good with that sort of thing.”

You shake your head immediately, face heating up. “After everything you’ve done for me, I can’t let you do that.”

“Sure you can.” You can practically see the gears turning as he verbally plans it out. “I’d need measurements, of course, and finding good quality leather might be a challenge, but it would allow a lot of stylistic freedom. If you gave me a sketch of what you and Mikey worked out a sketch—”

“Dude, no.” You feel like such a girl, getting flustered over something like this. “Never mind how much unnecessary work that would take—”

“It would take me an afternoon, tops.”

“—it would be way too much trouble to find all the right materials and everything!” You shake your head more vigorously. “You have enough on your plate already.”

He pauses. “What if I could give it a practical use? Like, for self-defense or something. Would you let me then?”

You blink. “Self-defense?”

“Yeah.” You feel as though you are missing something when he hurries to clarify, “You had a knife next to you when I came to pick you up. Having something more user-friendly might—not that you can’t use a knife, but you don’t have a ton of experience with them, especially using a kitchen knife against the Foot and you get what I’m saying, right?”

You hesitate, trying to understand what he said before nodding. “I guess that makes sense,” you concede. “It would be shitty to go out like a bitch after convincing myself I deserve to live so many times. That would be kinda inconvenient.”

Despite the fact he looks like you just put a knife to your throat, he nods. “Yeah,” he confirms tentatively. “Inconvenient.”

You shift the blanket under your arms, folding it so that it would stay at your chest. “Alright,” you sigh, “You convinced me. But!” You aim to accentuate this caveat, “But, not my design. If you’re going to go through all the trouble, you design it to how you think they would look cool, so you feel good about what you’re making.”

“You trust me to not make you look bad?”

“Totally.” You smile. “Looking at the Shellraiser makes me want to vomit, but it’s not from lack of style.”

He blinks. “What?”

“Exactly what I said,” you commit.

Your statement makes him take pause, but, eventually, he seems to get what you mean. “Then… thanks,” he nods. “I should probably fix your jacket first, though. Unless you want to walk around New York in the middle of the night in a blanket.”

“I’d rather not,” you admit. “I feel like that would not be my greatest move.”

He gets up. “Are you alright to be left alone? It’s alright if you aren’t,” he clarifies, “but I’d have to shift the timetable a bit if that’s the case.”

You blink, confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason.” He is lying, you are sure. “Just wanted to check before I told the guys I was good to go.”

Something about that statement seems strange to you. “Wait,” you clarify, “why would you go on another mission tonight?”

He averts eye contact.

You lean forward. “How long have I been weird?”

“Not too long, I don’t think. You were out when I got there.”

You reach over, forcing him to look at you head-on. “Are you lying to me?”

He does not answer.

“Has more than a day passed?”

He shakes his head. “It’s only about seven.”

You let go, resting your face in your hands. “so, I’ve been out for, what, sixteen hours?”

“Kinda.” He fiddles with his hands nervously. “A little less, I think.”

“And how long have I been out of it?”

He takes a moment. “You were crying a lot when you woke up,” he concedes. “At about two in the afternoon. I think you cried yourself out, because when I came to check on you—I thought maybe water would help— you were out.”

“Wonderful.” You look up at him. “And was it loud?”

“Not really.” He looks as though he was being interrogated. “I wouldn’t have come, but I left something in here that I needed.” His voice is back to being soft and calm. “You were mumbling about your hands a lot. I actually tied you up,” he chuckles nervously, “because you were moving around so much and getting the shards farther into your back.”

You sigh, something in your stomach sinking. “Probably not a terrible move. Then what?”

“When you started getting normal again,” he continues, “I untied you and got you to stop moving when I started taking the glass out, and I’m guessing you remember the rest.”

You do not say anything.

He stares intently at a corner. “I know this might come off as rude,” he starts carefully, “and I don’t mean to be rude…”

“Spit it out,” you gesture. “Let’s just… what’s up?”

“I honestly do not know enough about this sort of thing to help you.” He looks back at you. “I wish I did, really, but I don’t. I don’t know how you’re wired, mentally, and it’s really not an area I can help you with.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“But I do know,” he continues, “it has to be hard, trying to find help, given the circumstances, especially after everything that’s happened.”

“Please,” you almost beg, “just get to the point.”

“I think it would be a good idea to start spending more time with Master Splinter.” He looks down at his hands. “I think, given that he knows more about this sort of thing than I do, it would be good for you.”

“So, you’re prescribing therapy?”

“I’m not saying you’re crazy—”

“That’s not what I asked.”

The silence is choking you.

“I don’t know if you have a disorder,” he sighs. “Again, not my area of expertise.” He tries to phrase what he means right, and the next few sentences come out slow and deliberate. “All I know is that the people you’ve known your whole life aren’t around anymore, and you’re having really bad nightmares, and that you freeze up when you get really scared. I don’t want you to suffer on our account.”

You stare down at your feet.

“If not because you’re worried about it,” he tries at a different angle, “would you do it as payment for the gloves? That way, it’s not a handout.”

You smile at that. “Hand out.”

It takes a second. “Pun not intended,” he sighs. “I kinda wish it was, now.”

You look up. “I’ll talk to him while you guys are gone on your mission tonight.”

“Thank you,” he breathes. “I appreciate it, really.”

You smile properly. “Hey,” you say, adjusting the blanket. “You take glass shards out of my back and I scratch yours, or something like that.”

He chuckles. “I should probably go let the guys know,” he gets to his feet. “If you want,” he offers, “you can come with.”

“I’ll take a raincheck.” You get up after him, vision blacking out for a moment as you grab the wall for support. “But I can help you grab all your stuff to move out, if you need.”

His eyes go wide. “You don’t have clothes,” he reminds you.

You almost roll your eyes at this particular concern. “Covers more than a bathing suit,” you reason. “I’ll be careful about making sure it doesn’t slip, I promise.”

“But what if it does?”

“Then they should take a picture of the only pair of tits they’ll ever see in person.” You start to hobble towards the door. “I’ve dealt with worse wardrobe malfunctions. I’ll be fine, really.”

“Your flippancy is incredibly concerning.”

You try not to laugh. You look back at him, grin. “Concerning? Me?” You bring a hand to your chest. “I’m offended, sir. Besides,” You giggle, “I need to have a chat with your brothers if that episode is today.”

The look on his face immediately validates your decision. “Could you run that by me again?”

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, hand traveling across the open air as if to reveal your statement. “Cockroach. Terminator.”

“Okay, I’m going to need you to give me more explanation again.”

A sharp grin spreads across your features. “Imagine this,” you explain smoothly. “A giant cockroach—“

“Hate it.”

“— that is also a cyborg—“

“Hating it more.”

“— complete with near invincibility—“

“Sounds like my worst nightmare.”

“— with saws.”

“And it is.” Raphael removes your arm from his shoulders. “I’m sold. No more of that.”

“So,” you confirm, leaning back against the wall, “what is everyone not going to do?”

“I dunno,” Mikey admits easily. “I was too busy watching the horror settle on my brother’s face.”

“I’m not horrified—” he protests.

“You are.”

“Am not!”

“Am too!”

“As a neutral bystander,” Leo pipes up, trying not to openly laugh, “yes, you are.”

You keep your eyes focused on Raphael and not the car. “Look,” you cut in, “are you gonna let him do his job or nah?”

“I’m not promi—“

“The hell you ain’t” He shot a furious look at his younger brother. “You best not breathe on Donnie before the roach is back in the car and as far away from that fuckin’ ooze as possible!”

“Reassuring,” you nod. “Good.”

“If you’re so worried about Donnie messing up,” Leo suggests, “why don’t you use the remote control? You’ve watched him work with it before, right?”

You scoff. “I’d rather chop off my hands with a dull knife than get in the death mobile.”

The other two brothers antagonize each other. “It’s not that bad.”

“Isn’t it, though?” You cross your arms, a sick feeling sinking into your stomach at the thought. “Never mind the fact the lead engineer is a teenage boy, or that it’s made of the finest trash, but it’s also a moving, mechanical vehicle driven by another— and I mean this with the utmost respect— rowdy hormonal teenager.”

“Hey,” he protests, “that’s not true.”

“Karai.”

His face heats up. “It was a mistake that I’ve already owned up to.”

You put your hands up. “Look, man,” you clarify, smiling as the crisis is thoroughly averted, “I don’t blame you. Karai isn’t exactly a dime a dozen, and we can all agree she is an extremely formidable fighter who can thoroughly kick your ass.”

Donnie is getting a run for his money with this blush. “What does— she cannot,” he stammers, “and even if she could—“

“Oh, do not even,” you tease. “We all know that her being a formidable opponent who knows every weapon in her arsenal like the back of her hand and uses them well has something to do with why you like her so much. Raph’s the same way.”

Speak of the devil. “What’d you say?”

“You have a thing for strong women who can probably kick your ass.”

He seems to consider this for a minute. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

“Cool. Anyways.” You turn your attention back to Leo. “The point is, as someone who is also into people who can kick my ass— literally or academically— I get the appeal. Also,” you add, grinning like a moron, “her eyeliner game is on point, which doesn’t hurt.”

He blinks. “Do you like Karai?”

“Absolutely. One hundred and ten percent.” You shrug. “She’s badass.”

“More so than Donnie?”

“Are you guys ever going to get in or are you guys just going to stand out there all night?” Donnie pokes his head out of the vehicle. “We’re losing darkness.”

'Saved by the bell.' “Point is,” you say quickly, “I don’t want in that thing. Couldn’t pay me.”

“Leo! Hurry up!”

“Comin’!” He climbs into the Shellraiser, wheels spinning as the team drove off and out of the lair.

You close your eyes.

You do not want to go to Hamato Yoshi for therapy. You will bet money it does not go well.

‘You promised, though. Might as well have, anyways. Did you promise?’

Your morals and ideologies completely clash.

‘Ninjas aren’t all rendered insane. They have to be doing something right, in theory.’

You use the wall for support, already knowing the walk home is going to suck as you limp towards the dojo.

Table of Contents

Chapter 12

Chapter 14

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candychronicles · 5 years ago

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mind control // e. kirishima

A/N: My take on the apocalypse au! this one was so so so fun to write and i hope you all enjoy!!

CHARACTER PAIRING: Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,580

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, semi-public sex, kinda angsty

SYNOPSIS: when the world turns into chaos, you’re there, fighting on the front lines to find a cure. what happens when things go right for once?

Want to read more smutty goodness? Click here !

the world changed on a mild Tuesday afternoon. there had been experiments going around regarding mind control, mind alteration, but things backfired, heavily. test subjects became irate, violent, crazed, and the serum mutated rapidly in the bloodstream. after only a few short weeks, the serum became its own disease, allowing it to rapidly be spread through bite wounds. people hallucinated, overcome by their primal desires to mate and reproduce, to fight and wreak havoc sometimes forgetting to eat or sleep, constantly wired.

the disease spread slowly, people initially thinking that it was just a few loose cannons going off around the world, that nothing was happening. it should’ve been a relatively simple disease to ward off, containing those that were mad until they slowly succumbed to their own desires, but it didn’t happen like that. more and more people were getting bit, and slowly, small outbreaks were popping up around the world. large groups of infected people congregated to fuck and fight, causing rampages in large cities. they had no care for their own wellbeing, not understanding pain, only wanting to destroy and conquer.

police, national guards, militaries and other protective personnel rushed to combat the diseased, ordered to shoot to kill, but in some places there were just too many of them, and they were quickly run down, joining the ranks of the mindless, crazed humans who just wanted to do anything to feel once again and quell the madness in their brains.

you were one of the brightest and best scientists in the country, working hard to cure this strange disease that was man made and yet had a mind of its own alongside Kirishima Eijirou, a disease specialist. together, you tracked the path of the sickness, how the world slowly succumbed to madness in just a few short months as more and more cases popped up and the numbers became overwhelming.

you were one of the lucky few, finding solace in a well protected and well isolated research lab. things were stringent, with blood work, head scans, and other tests to make sure that you were not somehow catching the disease, despite knowing how it worked. after all, they couldn’t afford to have their best researchers getting sick, not when they were working hard and fast on finding some sort of cure or preventative.

breaking down the dna of the disease was the first step in understanding how it was made and how it mutated, followed by what genes were affected, how the disease altered the brain chemistry, and most importantly, how to create a cure. it was long, tedious work, but after months of replicating the dna, breaking down the genomes and isolating the variables, you were finally able to locate what areas of the genes were mutating.

“Eijirou, do you know what this means? we’re one step closer to finding a cure! this is huge, we have to tell the rest of the team right away!”

with your eyes alight with happiness, pearly whites displayed proudly in the form of a wide grin, you had never looked prettier. Kirishima had liked you for a long, long time. how could he not? you were extremely intelligent, could hold your own against anyone, passionate, hard working and undeniably attractive.

in the heat of the moment, with excitement buzzing in the area, he did the one thing he always dreamed of doing: kissed you. at first, you were confused, hands still raised in a cheer, body stiff as a board, but as he began pulling away, you reached forward to wrap your arms around his body, pulling him closer. for a few moments, you two moved back and forth, mouths mashing together in pure ecstasy, high off your success and the feeling of warm lips on your own.

when you went to pull away, his head chased you, high off the feeling of you.

“we shouldn’t be doing this. not here anyways,” you reasoned weakly, putting your hands on his chest in an attempt to both anchor and distance yourself from the man who was grinning like he had won a million bucks.

“why not? no one else is in here besides us. no one even comes in to disturb us, knowing how busy we’ve been working. why can’t we take a few minutes to celebrate our victory, and then bring our results to the doc?”

before you had a chance to respond, his lips were attached to your neck, licking, sucking, biting on your pulse point, eliciting a moan from deep within your chest. you stopped fighting your instincts, instead allowing yourself to enjoy the way his mouth felt on your skin.

Kirishima gripped the back of your thighs tightly before hoisting you up on the lab table, pushing away various instruments and lab samples to make room for your body. your teeth gnashed together in a pure desire to feel one another, hands gripping tightly on your hips, moving up to unclasp your bra, sliding off your lab coat in the process. you were quick to follow suit, allowing the white fabric to rustle at his ankles, gripping his face in your hands to bring him impossibly closer to you.

“i need you,” he breathed out, breaking away for a moment to pull your shirt over your head and bra down your arms, immediately latching his mouth to your right nipple, his large, toasty hand fondling your left, pinching your nipple between two meaty fingers, grunting in appreciation when you let out breathless whines.

when you didn’t respond, he repeated his words once again, more forcefully this time, you nodding your head, whispering “yes” over and over again. your pants were unbuttoned and slid down your legs, one arm holding your body up to pull the fabric out from under you. his own pants followed suit, hastily shoved down his ankles, not even bothering to step out of the cloth before he was attaching himself to your lips again.

his thick fingers found their way to your clit, rubbing harsh yet precise circles into the nub, making your head spin from the contact, throwing your head back in bliss.

“please, Eijirou, I need you,” you called out, eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

“have to get you ready to take my cock sweetheart. don’t worry, i’ll take care of you,” he promised, spreading your legs out in the process, inserting one finger into your wanting hole.

“so wet for me already, huh. i’ve barely even touched you. such a fucking needy bitch,” he tutted, pumping his finger in and out of you, curling to hit every inch of you.

you rocked your hips against his hand as he added another finger, you reveling in the feeling of the delicious stretch and him in pure awe of the situation. his thumb came back to rub harsh circles once again on your aching clit. you continued rolling your body into his fingers, chasing your high, gripping his hand for support.

you were so close, so deliciously close to a mind blowing orgasm, when Kirishima removed his fingers from your body, languidly bringing them up to his mouth and licking the juices off his fingers, making eye contact with you.

he pulled your body to the edge of the table, hands gripping your ass tightly as he gave the top of one a harsh smack, the sound resonating loudly in the once sterile room. he removed one hand and brought it down to his dick, giving it an experimental tug, rubbing the precum over the tip of his dick. you watched with a lolled head, enamored by the sheer thickness, wondering how it would feel stretching you out.

you didn’t have to wait long to find out as Kirishima positioned himself right at your entrance, spitting onto his cock for good measure before he deliberately pushed the tip of himself into your sopping cunt, you gripping his shoulders, nails digging into the plush skin, though he never even noticed.

he continued to gently pump his tip in and out of your cunt, collecting the sticky liquid before he began inserting his whole cock into your body, you shuddering at the feeling of him inside of you.

once he was fully sheathed, he waited a few moments, pulling you in for another searing kiss as he began surging his dick in and out of your body, gripping your hips in an iron hold, keeping you steady on the wobbly table.

you threw your head forward, gripping onto his arms for dear life, biting down into his shoulder to keep the moans muffled, listening to the grunts and groans of Kirishima breathily in your ear.

“fuck you feel so tight. i’m going to stuff this pussy full of cum. you’re going to be my little cum dumpster, aren’t you?” he cooed in your ear.

you could only nod back in response, crying out at the feeling of him stretching you to your limits, the burning only heightening your experience as you felt that coil once again build up.

it seemed as if he was chasing his own high as well, snapping his hips into you so harshly, grabbing your hips so tightly, marking you up and making you his with his fingertips imprinted into your skin in the form of pretty little purple marks.

“god, Eijirou, i’m so close,” you panted out, attempting to move your hips despite the harsh grip, wanting more friction.

he seemed to understand what you wanted, removing one of his hands to rub your clit, whispering praises and encouragement in your ear. you responded with a loud cry of your own, the dam finally breaking as your orgasm washed over you, Kirishima continuing to pound into you through your orgasm.

when you came down from your high, you were a blubbering mess, feeling another orgasm already building as he continued to fuck you senseless.

“come on baby, you have one more in you,” he encouraged, picking up the speed to ruthlessly drill into you.

“Kiri, please, i can’t,” you cried, weakly attempting to push him away, feeling so sensitive.

just as you were going to ask him to stop, you felt your second orgasm hit you like a freight train, frighteningly fast. your pussy pulsed around his cock, encouraging him to cum, to milk his cock dry.

Kirishima snapped soon after you, the way your walls were clenching around him sending him over the edge, grunting “fuck” over and over again as he slowed down his pace, riding out his own high.

you two hovered there, allowing yourselves to catch your breath and come down from the mind blowing highs you were experiencing. when you finally were able to think, you began tediously unsticking yourself from the now warm metal table, scooching off to stand up, immediately feeling light headed.

“whoa, are you okay?” Kirishima asked worriedly as he steadied you on your feet.

“yeah, that was amazing. plus, i don’t think i’ve eaten today. just too caught up in work, i think,” you admitted, resting your head on his chest.

“well, lets get you cleaned up, get these lab results to the doc, and then go to the cafeteria for something to eat, yeah?”

you nodded in response, still wobbly on your legs, as you followed him to grab some paper towels, allowing him to softly clean the now dripping liquid from your legs and aching cunt.

once you were cleaned up, you allowed him to help you dress, fixing your hair and straightening out your lab coat, before the two of you made your way to the head doctor’s office located across the building.

his door was left slightly ajar when you arrived, and after a few polite knocks, you impatiently entered, wanting to tell them the news right away.

“they’re not here,” you sighed with a frown, disappointment lacing your voice.

you were about to drop the documents and leave when a bright green folder labeled “test subjects” caught your eye. you slapped your paperwork into Kirishima’s arms before moving over to the folder, opening it without a care in the world, curious as to why there would be a folder labeled that in their office.

in it documented the tales of two test subjects who had been exposed to the sickness on purpose and then given drugs to attempt to cure or mitigate the effects of the disease.

the two test subjects, a and b, are still unaware that they were given the disease at the day of arrival. they began exhibiting symptoms right away, like hallucinations and violent behaviors, but after days of injections, things are starting to slow down. they are starting to come to, but with some weird twists. they don’t remember being infected at all.

you furrowed your brows, motioning Kirishima over to have him read the documents himself, before you continued reading:

they knew basic motor functions, how to survive as a human for the most part, but needed to have things suggested to them, need to have some purpose in life in order to not go crazy. this was what we wanted all along: for a self sustaining human to listen to all suggestive behaviors while continuing to go about their day. there are some kinks that still need worked out. for example, they need to occasionally be reminded to eat, sleep, drink water, like they are still under the control of the disease, but those are issues that can be worked out. for now, things are going to plan.

“what does this mean?” you heard Kirishima ask, before continuing, “does this mean they’ve had a cure, or a version of the cure all along? then why have we been working tirelessly for months on this?”

“i’m not sure, let’s keep reading,” you urged, utterly confused on the situation and wanting to find answers.

the longevity of the treatment is currently being tested. they were set out on a task months ago, and are still diligently working on the issue at hand. they may actually come up with something useful at a much faster rate than the comparable test subjects without the virus, teaching themselves, learning and growing and changing at an exponential rate. for now, we continue to monitor their well being with frequent tests such as blood work and head ct’s. while they still have a bit of brain damage from the disease, they are functioning overall well and should be great successes.

“Kirishima, this is crazy. they are breaking all sorts of violations here. testing on unknowing subjects. we need to expose this. i don’t care if their experiment is working. they’re creating and working on a mind altering drug here, the same type of drug that started this whole issue in the first place. this is just a mess,” you rambled, not paying attention to the terrified look on Kirishima’s face.

once you caught onto him not listening, you followed his gaze, back down to the page, reading the last of the written material before looking back at him with tears rolling down your cheeks. you collapsed into his arms, sinking down to the floor together, finally realizing what was going on.

in highlighted lettering, right at the bottom of the page, you found your truth:

the test subjects at hand, Kirishima Eijirou (a) and (l/n) (y/n) (b) are still woefully unaware of the situation at hand, and we will do anything, and i mean anything, to keep it that way.

Tags: @redbeanteax @softforshigi @katsuki-bakugous-lady @tamakisprincess @secondhand-trash @freiyalight @crystal-lilac

#kirishima x reader #Kirishima Eijirou #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #apocalypse

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cruecifymesixx · 4 years ago

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Love and Leather /part eighty three/

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated!

Warnings: SMUT, language, angst

Taglist: @brideofdraculana , @miserablecunt , @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @anntheboneless, @justjodeye, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39 , @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @awesomealmostdopestudent, , @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @rockersbox, @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, , @broke-n-bitchy @thanks2pete, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001, @waywardprincess666, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @zoenicoles, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @primal-screamer @electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london, @outdated-titty-milk101, @nassauartist @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120 @xrosegoldwolfx, @lauravic, @mgkobsessed, @chaoticvybe, @kellysimagines @thoughtsoftheantagonist @marvelismylifffe, @sleepyjunhong @meetthesixxter @sparxx27 @gingerspicetalks @kaitieskidmore1 @oskea93 @unknownoblivion @nevergoodenuffbutokaaayyy @sublimeprincesswasteland @kylieinwonderland @haileynicoleseavey17 @lavendersoundbarrier @youretheonlyonewhomakesme, @xxisxxisxxis, @dogmom2014, @cruesixxlover1991, @xpoisonousrosesx, , @m0rnlngstar, @love-struck-aries, @findingmyths, @i-want-to-shoot-myself, @arianareirg, @fentitrbl,, @motleycrueprincess, @redlipscrystalskies14, @samanthadegaro @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @thechangingme, @patheticgay69, @idkmanhereisshitilike, @makaelahdelvalle

~St. Valentine’s Day ‘96~

Nikki hissed, pulling against the restraints wrapped around the bed frame and attempting to shake off blind fold made out of his own bandanna, “Van c’mon princess, you’re killing me here.” He spoke through gritted teeth, moaning louder when the hot wax dripped onto his chest again.

Vanity giggled, straddling his lap as she watched the red liquid drop down, “But you were the one that suggested this baby.” She leaned over, pressing her hips into his crotch and kissed the front of his neck, her tongue running up his Adam’s Apple before kissing his chin.

“Fuck..” Nikki groaned, bucking his hips up, “Come on!” He gnawed on his bottom lip as her hands pressed against his skin when she sat up again, purposefully grinding her ass into him.

“But I like seeing you like this Nikki.” Vans words slid off her lips like honey as she scratched her nails up and down his skin and leaving visible red lines in their wake, “Knowing you can’t touch me even if you wanted too. Does it hurt baby? I bet you want to just bury your cock in me like you always do don’t you?”

“Then unlock these so I can, bet that pretty pussy is just screaming for my attention.” Nikki laughs deeply, pulling on the restraints again until Vanity wrapped gold painted nails around his throat to keep him down.

“I can wait it out unlike you, Sixx.” She whispers against his lips before nipping at his bottom lip and tugging at it. Van hummed hearing his breathy whimper as she sat up straight and grabbed the melting candle. She tipped it slowly watching it pour against his abdomen and the bead of wax rolling down before it hardened. Each time she felt his thighs tense up and saw the veins pop out in his arms from turning his hands into fists around the cuffs.

How did Nikki get himself in this spot when these restraints were put in place for her? He doesn’t know. They came back to the hotel room he had booked for Valentine’s Day after having dinner at their favorite steakhouse. The two started off with a bath full of bubbles, rose petals and laughter while splitting a bottle of champagne evenly. Then they were in bed fooling around and next thing he knows Vanity’s asking him to put on the blindfold and he’s asking her to pour hot wax on him.

“Baby, please?”

Vans eyebrow raised into a perfect arch as she heard the begging followed by the quiet whimper he tried hiding when she poured some more. She reached up and pulled the blindfold off as he blinked a few times to adjust to the light, “That wouldn’t be Nikki Sixx begging would it?”

Nikki rolled his eyes, adjusting his hips under hers as he took in the lingerie she was wearing. The same set he had gotten her a few months prior at Christmas time, “We can switch Princess it’s only fair.”

Vanity laughs at him, “I’m not the one with a pain kink, Nikki.” She smiles at him, watching his eyes close and hearing the muttered fuck as she presses her ass onto his crotch. Vanity eyed him before putting her hand into her panties, moaning when she touched herself in front of Nikki.

Vanity let out a heavy sigh as she brought some relief to herself, “Fuck..” She whimpers grinding her hips against her hand which only resulted in more pressure being added to Nikki’s crotch. Van dipped her middle and ring fingers inside of her feeling the stretch but would rather have it be his fingers instead. She smiled at him as he stared in awe and brought the fingers to her mouth, sucking on them and treating them as if they were his cock.

Vanity peppered kisses and small bites up his chest and neck before meeting his lips. Nikki moaned into her mouth, tongue finding hers as he tasted her essence on her lips. He groaned when she broke the kiss, attempting to press his lips to any part of her that he could. She reached over his head grabbing the key chain dangling off the post, “I think I’ve had enough fun torturing you..” She sweetly pecks his nose as she unlocks his hands.

It takes no time at all as Nikki pulls her panties down, barely hanging on at her foot until she kicks them off, “You want it?” He looked at her rubbing the tip of his cock against her, “Beg for it.”

Vanity moans, feeling him move even slower “Please Nikki.”

He tsks, pulling away “I know you can do better than that. You want me to fuck you? Make you fucking cum over and over to the point where it hurts. Till you’re reduced into tears and whines begging me to stop? Then fucking beg for it baby cause you have the whole night ahead of you.”

*Next Morning*

Vanity gets out of the car jumping in surprise and reaching Nikkis wrist when he smacks her ass, “Quit doing that! It hurts.” She huffed, rolling her eyes as she opened up the front door.

“Oh don’t be a big baby. There’s only a few bruises unlike me who has welts going down my chest.” Nikki retorted, slapping her ass again as Arianna came running from the backyard.

“Mom! Daddy!!” She exclaims, Mick gingerly following in with Anarchy behind him, “I missed you!” She ran to Van first, colliding into her legs as Van picked her up.

“I missed you so much more! We’re you good for uncle Mickey?” Van kissed her cheeks before Nikki took her out of her arms.

“Don’t call me that.” Mick warned, “And yes she was a peach. Went to bed like she was suppose too after story time and then demanded French toast this morning.”

Vanity smiled, “Thank you Mick and sorry, I should’ve warned you. She loves French toast for breakfast and has it almost every day.”

“Mommy you have a booboo on your neck!” Arianna pointed out as she jammed her finger into the side.

“Ow!” She gently pushed Ari’s hand away, “Babe that hurt!”

“I’m sure it hurt more to get.” Mick mumbled, making Vanity’s cheek turn a shade of pink.

Nikki laughed as he put Arianna down, “Thanks again Mick for watching her on such a short notice. I appreciate it.”

Mick waved him off, reaching to grab his jacket from the couch “No problem Sixx. She kept me moving and I need that sometimes. I’ll see you guys later. You be good, turd.” Mick smiled brightly at Arianna and ruffled up her already messy locks before he left.

“Daddy! Can we have our tea party now?! Pleaaaaasseee!” Arianna begged as she grabbed Nikki’s hands, attempting to pull him over to the dining table.

“Tea party? I don’t remember being invited to one?” He smirked lifting Ari up on his feet and taking giant steps as she giggled.

“Yes! But you have to bring everything! And dress nice too!”

Nikki scoffed, “A party and I have to bring everything? What’s the point in that?” He grinned, picking her up and setting her down in the chair, “Let me get everything ready for the prettiest princess in all of the kingdoms, alright?”

“I’ll go get my dress! And your party hat!”

Vanity chuckled, stopping in her tracks so she wouldn’t get ran over as Arianna booked it up the stairs with Anarchy in tow. The flashing lights of the answering machine caught Vans eye as she went over and pressed play:

“Van! It’s Clem! I need you to call me back right away please!”

“Vanity! Call me immediately! It’s dire!”

Van chuckled and picked up the house phone, dialing Clementines number, “Hey, it’s me! Sorry I’m just now calling you. Nikki and I just got back home. Is everything okay?”

Clementine smiled wide, glancing at Tommy as his smile was even bigger, “Van-oh thank god! I’m sorry I called so many times but something happened and I gotta tell you!” She covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.

“Uh...ar-are you okay? Do I need to come over? Are you at the hospital? Did somebody die?” Van grabbed Nikkis arm when he walked by with Arianna’s plastic tea cup set.

“What? Who is it?”

“I’m fucking pregnant!!”

Vans eyes widen as she gasps before letting out an excited scream, “Oh my god! Are you serious?! Are you sure!? Oh my god Clementine!”

Nikki grimaced when she started smacking his chest, “I need to check if my ears are bleeding now.”

“Clementines pregnant!” Vanity smiled at Nikki as he made a unamused expression, “Does Tommy know!? Please tell me Tommy knows!”

“Yeah, he knows. I told him last night after dinner. He started crying.”

“I did not!”

Vanity laughs, “I’m so happy for you both. Nikki says congratulations too.” Van glares when he rolls his eyes and mouths bullshit, “Aren’t you suppose to be getting a tea party ready?” Van raises an eyebrow as Nikki flips her off and heads to the kitchen to get Arianna’s apple juice and some cookies.

“I’m really happy for you Clemmy! Just let me know if you need anything okay? I’ll help you get set up with a good doctor and everything when the time comes.”

Clementine smiles as Tommy comes over and holds her tight, peppering her shoulder in kisses, “Thank you. Maybe we can have dinner tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah just come by later tonight and we can celebrate. Love you!” Van hangs up when they say their goodbyes and puts the phone back on the receiver.

“Mom!” Arianna yelled running to her with her arms stuck in one hole of the dress, “Help!” Van grabbed her elbow and pushed it through before adjusting it, “Daddy are you ready!? We can’t be late!”

“Yeah yeah, I’m coming. Well don’t you look pretty.” He smiles at her as they sit down and have their tea party. Arianna handing Nikki a bright pink crown to wear as he reluctantly took it.

Vanity watches them for a minute before deciding to catch up on some laundry. She groans seeing Nikki and Arianna’s hamper overflowing as usual. She grabs Nikki’s pants, going through the pockets as he’s notorious for leaving bass picks and candy wrappers behind. She dumps the trash in the garbage and puts the picks in a little glass jar that’s about half way full.

Van glances at a shred of notebook paper, thinking it might be a lyric written down as she knows Nikki does that. However she wasn’t expecting to find Donna’s name written and a cute little heart next to it, followed by her number and “Don’t loose my number this time. Call me whenever.” under it.

She took a breath in, holding it before exhaling and dumping the rest of his clothes in to the washer. Almost half tempted to dump the bottle of bleach in but decides not too. She slams the washer lid before leaving the laundry room.

“Hey Nikki?”

“What’s up baby?!” He calls for her, laughter in his voice as Arianna talks to her stuffed pig and gives him some juice, well, tea and a bite of the cookie.

“I think you might need this.” Van says, placing the paper down in front of him. Eyes ablaze and cheeks red as she’s forcing herself not to strangle him.

Nikki looks at the paper, his heart dropping to his stomach as he looks up at her, “Van, I-“ His words are futile as Vanity is already walking away from him and heading up the stairs, the slam of the bedroom door echoing after.

Therapy was going to be fun next week.

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one-boring-person · 4 years ago

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Only Traitors Consort With The Damned. (Part Three)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: none

Context: The senior officer (Y/n) is expecting arrives.

A/N: Im not really sure where this story is going, but anyhow. I'm sorry, there really isn't that much mention of the boys in this, but I guess this can kinda count as a filler chapter?

Masterlist.

My hands are shaking as I check my watch yet again, biting my lip nervously as I shift in place, my coat drawn tightly around me to fight off the cool night air, the rest of my clothes as smart as possible, to make a good impression. In my left hand, I hold the creased envelope, the edges torn and dog-eared from being handled so much, the letter inside stained slightly from where I picked it up with my hands covered in gore, the contents nearly branded into my memory by now. A senior officer is to meet me at the Santa Carla train station at eight o'clock exactly, should the train be on time for once. Since I received this information two days ago, I have not stopped fidgeting and worrying with myself, my nails bitten down to the bed, the skin painful and red, my nerves running rampant within me, resulting in a thorough tidy-up of the shed and many unforseen training fights with the hand-made dummy behind it, my knuckles as sore as if I've been in a real fight.

Even now, I can feel the bruising under my gloves smart with every movement, my fingers flexing instinctually as I watch the thinning stream of people emerging from the station doors, eyes hoping to catch sight of the officer soon, knowing the uniform will be the tell tale giveaway. My own uniform is neat and tidy for once, as the rules of the SRS state, my long overcoat concealing the weapons I'm obligated to carry around with me: a gun loaded with wooden bullets, three vials of holy water, a stake and a silver knife. Legally, I'm allowed to carry these weapons in full view, being a Hunter for the SRS and all, but most of us choose not to, seeing as the civilians tend to find the sight of them pretty unnerving, but there are some, more arrogant ones, who choose to flaunt their status for the whole world to see, making them easy targets for almost any supernatural being. A wry grimace makes it's way onto my face as I recall the time when my first drill sergeant as a Cadet stalked into a werewolf pack with all of his silver weaponry out on show, instantly resulting in an all out brawl, which only some of us survived. The sergeant was the first to die.

"(Y/n)! It's been too long!" A horribly familiar voice snaps me from my thoughts, my eyes swiftly locating the tall figure walking over to me. Elijah Finch, the lanky, dark haired man I went to Hunting School with, wearing the neatly pressed black jacket of a senior officer, the rank badges sewn onto his chest showing that he has also reached a very high number of kills, as well as a completely new status.

"It's good to see you, sir." I address him with the correct formality, a tight smile forcing it's way onto my lips, my posture straightening as I salute him. For a brief second, I see a faint glimmer of pride flash through the crystal depths of his eyes at the title.

"Ah, don't call me that, (Y/n). We're friends, and that's not how friends talk to each other." He grins as he steps over to me, dropping his holdall momentarily in order to sweep me up into a tight embrace.

Relaxing into him, I return the hug, inhaling the familiar smell of his cologne as he crushes me into his chest, clearly happier to see me than I am him.

"If you say so, Elijah." I respond in his ear, pulling away after a minute, smiling at his broad grin, taking note of the new scar on his right cheek, the pale line splitting his sharp cheekbone in two, "The hell happened to your face?"

"Oh this? Nothing too bad, just had a bad encounter with a possessed child." Elijah smirks, picking up his bag again and slinging it onto his back, refusing my offer to help him out.

"A child gave you that?" I lift an eyebrow at him, finding this amusing.

"A possessed child." He corrects me, falling into step beside me as I lead him away from the train station, aiming to get to the main road, where we can pick up some decent food without coming across David and the boys.

"Sure." I chuckle, rolling my eyes, "You hungry?"

"I could eat. Anywhere good in town?"

"Eh, I guess. Most of them are takeaways, but there's a pretty decent diner just off the main road." I inform him, sticking my hands into my pockets as we walk, hunching my shoulders a little as the cool wind blows around us, chilling me to the bone.

"Lets go there, then. I'll pay." The tall Hunter says decisively, giving me a pointed look when I glance at him queationingly.

"Sure, if you don't mind." I frown slightly at this, fumbling with the notes in my pockets a little out of protest, "When did you become a senior?"

"A month back, I think. Yeah, it was around the beginning of September or so." He replies, clearly looking as if he wants to go on, something which I am only too happy to allow.

"Oh yeah? What was the mission?" I inquire, referring to the SRS concept that a Hunter is promoted to Senior only after completing a particularly difficult hunt.

"Oh, it wasn't too difficult. There was a coven of vampires trying to take over the French Quarter, back home in New Orleans, and had started a fight with the witches that already lived there. I had to go in with a squad of Hunters and eliminate the bloodsuckers, before everything got out of hand. I managed it, and didn't lose a single member of the squad." He goes on to explain, sounding impossibly proud of himself as always, his tone laced with self-confidence.

"Congrats, it sounds like it was well deserved." I congratulate him, stopping outside the diner I usually stay out of, preferring to go to the one on the Boardwalk, my jaw clenching as I see that it is closed for the night.

"Damn that sucks. Is there another one nearby?" Elijah asks, blue eyes looking the structure up and down, hand adjusting on the straps of his bag.

"Err, yeah. There's one just over there." I inform him, pointing at the entrance to the Boardwalk, which lies a good 25 metres away down the road.

"Lets hope that one isn't closed, too." He muses, allowing me to hesitantly lead the way again.

Quickly, we make our way onto the Boardwalk, where I then quickly locate the diner and direct Elijah over to it, hoping the boys aren't anywhere nearby. Thankfully, this one is open, meaning the two of us easily get a table, our uniforms giving us some sort of advantage over other customers, even though the insignia is not a particularly widely recognised one. Sitting at a window table, we take the time to look at the menu properly before deciding on something to order, doing so and relaxing back into our seats as we wait, both of us instinctively turning to look out the window, where I instantly spot the four people I didn't want to see tonight.

Across the pavement, David, Dwayne, Paul and Marko have pulled up on their motorcycles, the four of them drawing attention to themselves as always, something which makes me grit my teeth in annoyance, knowing that Elijah will easily spot them.

"They the resident biker gang?" The Hunter asks, gesturing to the boys with a curious expression.

Tensing almost indiscernibly, I try to suppress the rising fear inside me, nodding as I reply to him.

"It is. They like offering races to anyone who catches their eye." I explain to him, only revealing half of the truth behind them, eyeing the four vampires as they talk amongst themselves, David pulling a cigarette out of his pocket, followed by a lighter, his icy blue eyes suddenly locking with mine across the space. A smirk makes it's way onto his face as he sees me.

"They do, huh? I bet you could easily beat them on yours." Elijah muses out loud, looking me over with a critical eye.

"Yeah, well the only problem with that is that my bike is back in New Orleans, and has been for my entire time here." I remind him, recalling the black Triumph back in the garage at Headquarters, suddenly wishing I could ride it again, missing the exhilaration of the ride.

"That's too bad. I'm surprised, though, you and that bike were pretty much inseparable."

"It's the best vehicle I've ever driven." I shrug, returning my gaze to the four motorcycles outside, only to find their riders gone. Confusion fills me, eyes searching for them, until I hear an unmistakable voice behind me, my heart dropping in my chest.

"So this is where you got to, kitten. We were wondering where you were." David's smirk is practically audible in his tone, my jaw tightening as I turn to face him, only now registering what he called me, a deep blush blossoming on my cheeks.

"Hey David. I didn't realise you were looking for me." I smile cordially at him, trying to signal to him with my eyes for him to leave, before he's caught.

"We got worried." The platinum blonde affirms, eyeing Elijah, who watches the exchange in confusion, "Who's your friend?"

"This is Elijah. He's a close friend of mine. Elijah, this is David, Dwayne, Marko and Paul, some friends I've made here." I introduce them, trying not to reach over and slap their reaching hands away from each other, reminding myself that they boy have gloves onñ and so the difference in temperature shouldn't be too noticeable.

"Nice to meet you, Elijah." David greets, tone sounding forced and completely false.

"Nice to meet you, too." The tall Hunter smiles, shaking David's hand, eyes flicking over the others in turn.

David turns to me once again once he's finished shaking hands, blue eyes teasing.

"Let us know when you're next free, we'd love to spend more time together again." The vampire tells me, before he and the boys step out, Marko and Paul pushing and shoving each other on their way, nearly upsetting a few of the tables.

Once they've left, Elijah looks at me with an eyebrow raised.

"Friends?" Is all he says.

"What, are you implying that I can't make friends?" I tease, hoping not to have to go into too much detail.

"Of course not. They just seem pretty interesting characters." He shrugs, looking over as the waiter brings us our food, thanking him pleasantly before returning his gaze to me.

"They are, but they're a great cover-up story at times." I reason, tucking into my food.

"Ah, right. Makes sense. Anyway, you got any plans later?" He queries, casually, cutting up some of his own food as he does so.

"No, why?" I respond, confused.

"Because I am in the mood for some hunting."

Part Four

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#santa carla #marko(the lost boys)#star(the lost boys)

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shelby-love · 5 years ago

Text

JAY HALSTEAD

“Nightmare that came true”

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warnings: angst

Authors note: /

“Well. Her test results came back negative,” You swipe through the tablet before handing it over to doctor Charles. “She’s all yours.”

A girl came in the ED today, she was bleeding and screaming things about witches and ghosts. You stopped her bleeding and patched her up. Now she’s completely physically healthy and you’re handing her to the chief of Psychiatry.

“Let’s give her some Ativan. Get her to calm down,” Dr. Charles instructs one of the nurses. The nurse hurriedly goes to the screaming patient and injects the medication. Once the girl is calmed down you nod and wish luck to the older man.

It’s a fairly peaceful day at the ED. You had a few patients, all of which went home with a smile on their face. This girl so far was the only one in a need for serious help. You patched her up, now the only problem she has is on Dr. Charles - someone qualified to help her.

“Doctor Y/LN!” You know that the patient that’s about to come in is seriously injured as soon as Maggie calls you by your last name. “Incoming!

You spot the two paramedics rushing in with a GSW patient and you run to join them. Behind them you see the members of the Intelligence unit rush in. When you see their worried paled faces and don’t spot Jay, your fiancé, your heart sinks and your biggest nightmare comes true.

Jay lies on the stretcher soaked in his own blood. The paramedics start to recite his contidion but you can barely listen to them. "Detective Jay Halstead, 27 year old male. Shot on the line of duty. Stats 100, BP 102 over 69, heart rate 110. A little hypotensive and tachycardic. Doctor?”

She pulls you out of your trance, you lead them into the trauma room. It won’t do Jay any good if I don’t focus. “We transfer him on my count. Gently! One, two, three!”

The moment the love of your life is on that hospital bed you swear with everything you have. I swear I’ll help you pull through this Jay. The nurses hang the IV and connect him to the monitors as you inspect his contidion through tears. “Doctor Y/LN,” One of the nurses, Doris, carefully calls out for you. “His stats are lowering. Are you okay?”

Your head snaps to the direction of the monitor, “Let’s get a 16 in each arm and bolus a liter of LR on the rapid transfuser, and 50 of fentanyl for pain.” You put the stethoscope on his chest and listen carefully. The bruises on his neck that appear to be from choking are making it difficult for him to breathe. “I need to intubate to protect his airway.”

Doris nods and reaches behind for the intubation kit and you place yourself at the head of the bed behind Jay’s head. You look at his face and almost break down, Doris places the kid and you grab the laryngoscope and insert it in his mouth, you grab the tube and slowly find the right spot, “Okay I’m in. Give me the bag,” The last step, you connect the bag and start bagging him manually with oxygen until you connect him to the ventilator. “He’s stable. BP is going up, heart beat is getting better.” Doris informs and you sigh in relief.

A 1st year residency student, Noah Sexton looks for the wounds in Jay’s leg. “How’s his leg looking Noah?”

“A likely entrance hole in the upper right thigh. Big hematoma. No apparent fracture.”

“All right, Noah, pop quiz. Let’s see how much you recall. After we figure out where the bullet went in, - what do we do?” You ask, trying to keep your voice stable when you know that you’re seconds away from breaking down completely.

“Count the holes doc. If there’s an even number, it came out.” He answers.

“Okay, good job. We need a an x-ray, ultrasound, CT, and MRI. An endoscopy and blood work just to be safe.” You pull his shirt up to see a big bruise on his abs. His vest saved him from a fatal injury. You move towards Noah, where the bleeding was put in control.

“I think I see an exit hole,” Noah says, “It’s tiny… Too tiny,”

“It’s probably a shrapnel. The bullets still in there. We need to get him to radiology and see where it is. Now.” You say, examinating upper par of the leg.

You get Jay to radiology immediately and request that the results come urgently fast. With every second passing by Jay has a tougher challenge in front of him. You want that bullet out and then you want him transfered to the ICU. Where you could really watch over him.

Currently, you’re waiting for the MRI results. You’re resting your elbows on the receptions desk, your back facing the trauma room Jay is currently in. You cup your head in your hands and tug your hair, tears are running down your cheeks and you don’t registrate anything or anyone around you. When someone taps you on the shoulder tense and frantically wipe your tears away, you rise your head and look at Maggie. Her eyes take in the sight of you, “The MRI results are done.” she hands you the tablet and you look at the scans.

***

You stand behind the window of the OR. You’re biting your nails as you watch Connor operate on your fiancé. With tears in your eyes you watch the big TV and look at what he’s doing.

The bullet traveled all the way to his abdomen.

***

“Hey,” Connor meets you outside the OR. “You did amazing today.”

“You mean I didn’t break down while I tried to stabilize him and give a diagnosis?” You saw the way everyone looked at you. They didn’t think you’d be able to think straight. They thought you’re going to be way too emotionally involved to think straight. That’s why you weren’t allow to do the surgery or even assist. Jay is now resting and you’re waiting for him to wake up.

“He’s lucky to have you Y/N,” Connor squeezes your shoulder and you give him a smile before he leaves the room. Will had to return to his patient and the rest of the Intelligence was getting food in the cafeteria. You took the rest of the day off so you can wait for Jay to wake up. To be with him when he wakes up.

You watch and admire him. You don’t want to go and eat, Burgess brought you a coffee - you couldn’t drink it. Not until Jay woke up and proved that he’s alright.

Just as Voights about to drag you out to eat something you see Jay stirr. You fall into the chair and grab Jay’s hand and watch his eyes open. Tears of happiness rush down your cheeks as you kiss his hand and squeeze it.

“What happened? Where am I?” He tries to pull himself to sit but your stop him immediately.

“No don’t move,” You say. “You were shot Jay.”

He hated seeing you cry. Especially when he was the reason behind your tears. He knew your biggest fear was him coming into the ED like he did today.

“Y/N I’m sorry… I’m an idiot.”

“It’s okay Jay. You’re okay and that’s all that matters now,” You smile and wipe your tears away before kissing his knuckles once more. You press your lips to his forehead, silently thanking God for taking care of him.

“Don’t ever come to the ED like that again, okay? I’d rather have you in the ED because you need to arrest me.” You try to sound stern but when he gives you his boyish smile that you love so much you crack and smile brightly. “I love you.”

“What would I do without you Y/N Y/LN?” He traces your ring finger where your engagement ring rests.

#jay halstead fanfiction #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead #chicago pd #chicago med #chicago #Imagine

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ohtheseboysilove · 5 years ago

Text

The life ahead of us I/III [Billy/Four x F!Reader]

Words : 4, 200 K +

Warnings : fluff, smut, angst, blood…

Summary : Billy and reader decided to quit the Six Underground team after three years fighting the bad guys. They agreed to help them finish this last job before starting their new life. Only three more missions to go for a life of freedom.

Note : Hiyyaaa, first 6 Underground writing and I’m beyond excited ! (and bloody nervous too!!!) I had this idea few days ago and I didn’t want to start writing it because I have a lot of other stuffs to finish/edit but I just couldn’t stop thinking about it so…The whole story is already clear in my mind, divided in 3 parts (was supposed to be a simple OS but I got carried away as usual…). Anyway, I hope you’re gonna like it as much as I do and don’t forget to tell me what you think (even if it’s just a meme or a heart emoji, I’m surviving on these little comments!). Lots of love xx

x Masterlist x

General Headquarters of the 6 Underground team.

His mouth was hot, almost burning against yours, tongues and legs intertwined together in a passionate and lustful mess.

His thrusts were becoming sloppy as he was coming closer to his orgasm, his fingers quickly working on your clit to bring you with him and he was doing an amazing job as usual.

“Fuck…baby I’m so close” He breathed against your face before devouring your neck with light bites and small kisses.

“Me too, babe” You whined and sunk your nails into the skin on his shoulders, a low grunt escaping his throat at the gesture. “Come for me, Billy” You murmured and grabbed his face, your teeth tugging on his bottom lip as his whole body tensed, his strong orgasm washing over him followed by yours few seconds later.

“Holy shit” The blond moaned as he rested on top of you, still inside you, too lazy to move immediately. “I got—”

“Are you done fucking in here ? We’re leaving in ten !” A loud bang echoed through Billy’s trailer and the sweet and melodious voice of One could be heard. “If you’re late again, I will shoot the both of you myself !”

“Give us a minute !” The blond yelled back, his voice slightly croaky as he still breathless from his previous activities. “Fucking wanker”

“I heard you, Four !” You giggled quietly at One’s answer and sighed when you could hear his footsteps on the sand, signalling he was walking away from the trailer.

“We better get dress” You whispered and pressed a single, loving kiss on Billy’s swollen lips, earning a little groaning. Sex before a mission was probably your favourite. You were both giddy and full of good nerves, fucking them out in the best way possible. “Come on, babe” You pushes away few sweaty locks from his forehead and he gently kissed the inside of your wrist, mouth hiking up higher on your arm. “Billy” Instead of sounding like a warning, it was more like a desperate moan and it made him smirked proudly.

“In few months, we will finally be able to have as much sex as we want…” He dropped his mouth above your chest, his tongue lazily lapping between the valley of breasts, your throat going dry at the incredible feeling. “…without any disturbances…“ He cockily sucked on the love bite he made earlier under your right boob, just on the little mole which he found insanely sexy. You hissed, fingers grabbing his roots roughly. ”…no One…or Two…or Three…zero fucking numbers…“ His lips came back on yours for long, lazy kiss which always made your head spin. ”…just you and me, baby" You sighed loudly, the idea bringing butterflies in your belly.

You and Billy had decide to quit the team at the end of this major mission. It wasn’t an easy decision but it was the right thing to do. You arrived few months after Billy in the team as Eight and the both of you immediately clicked. It was the last thing you excepted when you integrated One’s little team. But only few weeks after you arrived, Billy and you started seeing each other and you never stopped since. You didn’t have family or close friends and you were quite good with a gun and especially with explosives, he made you an offer and you didn’t even think twice before accepting. You never regretted your choice once.

But now, three years later, Billy and you agreed that it was time for a change. But you couldn’t just quit and let the others handle the rest of the job by themselves. You would first finish this job, three more missions were planned to wrap the operation. But the desire to leave was itching through your veins a little bit more everyday. Everything was ready. Passports and new identities. Flights ticket toward Costa Rica. A beautiful house right on the beach. A good amount of cash to survive few years without raising a single finger.

“Three more missions, babe” You whispered, his smile matching yours immediately.

“Three more missions” He repeated with dreamy eyes.

You couldn’t wait to start your new life with Billy by your side.

***********************************************

Mission 1/3.

“Eight, how it’s going ?” You breathed slowly as the voice of One echoing in your earbud, your fingers perfectly stable as your worked on the explosive device.

“Slowly but surely” You murmured quietly as if you spoke louder everything could explode. Which wasn’t possible of course, but you needed all your concentration for the job. “Two more wires to go” You added as you carefully cut a black wire, Five next to you was holding a flash light right on the bomb.

“Copy that. Four and Seven, how is looking up there ?”

Five immediately plugged out your earbud and you murmured a quick thank you. It was one of your rule for this kind of job, you couldn’t listen to Billy because you would just be distracted and then risking stupidly yours and everyone’s life. Sometimes your heart would beat so strongly because of the blond that you couldn’t hear anything else and it was the last thing you needed.

Few more agonisingly long minutes later, you switched back on your earbud and murmured Billy’s favourite words : The bomb is disconnected.

It was for him the most stressful moments of these missions, waiting for you to confirm everything was fine. He was always worried to, instead of hearing you, hear the loud explosion which would result if you failed your mission.

But you never failed.

***********************************************

Your bigger job was over, the bomb wasn’t a danger anymore and you made peoples evacuated the building without really being noticed. Everything was going as it was planned.

“I have my eyes on the target” Three announced with his thick and easily recognisable accent. “Two, mi amor, do you see this hijo de puta ? Leaving through the second elevator”

“I got a visual” The french girl confirmed. “But call me like that one more time and the next bullet is for you, imbecile”

“You never complain when I call you like that in bed, mamacita” Javier was pushing his luck and One let out a little groan, ordering him to focus.

You couldn’t repress a little giggle at their familiar teasing. Javier and Camille were adorably cute and domestic at the base but during mission, Two was dead serious and you knew that Three loved to tease her about that.

Your heart ached a little at their kind of cute interaction and you couldn’t help yourself but checked on your amor.

“Billy, everything’s good on the roof ?” You didn’t let your voice betrayed your worry even if it was obvious for everyone.

“All clear, babe. Seven and his rifle can be quite useful” He always had this cheerful tone and sometimes it was driving you mad because he sounded so reckless. But he also always managed to come back to you.

“I save your ass at least a thousand time, you ungrateful wanker” Blaine chimed in.

“I bet you did, hiding away from the real danger” Billy teased gently and you could hear his quick breathing, indicating that he was running or doing some parkour shits.

“Oh shut the fuck up” Seven groaned and the blond chuckled loudly.

“Alright, Blaine stopped distracting him, he need to focus” You murmured and you could guess Seven was rolling his eyes at your comment.

“Yes, mom” He replied sarcastically.

“You heard the lady, Sniper ? Stop bothering me”

“Asshole”

"Enough, the three of you” One cleared his throat and you immediately complained, claiming your innocence in this stupid quarrel. “Especially you Eight, you’re the one distracting Four” One added, completely ignoring your previous words.

You humphed with annoyance and Billy laughed quietly.

"Can’t argue with that one. She can be very distracting”

***********************************************

You grimaced, the throbbing pain on your cheekbone was making your head spin and you almost throw up at the feeling. Your ankle was also slightly touched, swollen and red but hopefully nothing too serious that few days of rest couldn’t fix. But you didn’t have time for any of that right now, the mission was done but more and more guards were deployed on the building and it was time for you to evacuated quickly.

You were the last one with Five. You lost her somewhere between the third and fourth floor, after a man assaulted you, knocking the butt of his gun right in your face. You managed to take care of him but Amelia was nowhere to be seen. You hoped she was okay, your earbud had fall somewhere during your fight, you couldn’t imagined how Billy must be worried.

“One more floor, come on” You encouraged yourself as all your muscles were sore and begging you to just stop and lay there.

The evacuation was on the roof, a zip line carefully installed by Billy and he already evacuated everyone except the both of you. His worry was growing as you still weren’t here, the sound of shotguns echoed through all the building, not helping his nervousness.

When you finally reached the roof, your gaze frankly searched everywhere for Billy, a relieved sigh leaving your mouth when you saw him, waiting patiently next to the zip line.

"Took you fucking forever, was about to leave” He falsely complained, the relived smile on his face was contradicting his words.

“You wouldn’t dare” You said as you quickly walked toward him before stopping net at the sight of large man right behind him. “BILLY !” You yelled and barely registered his surprise face as the man jumped on him, both of them falling loudly on the floor.

You grimaced as Billy’s head knocked painfully loudly on the concrete, the sound seeming to echoed through your head as you made your best to reach him. You weak ankle was slowing down drastically.

One punch.

Two punch.

At the third punch Billy’s head fell on his side as he spat blood on the floor, his eyes watching you as you came closer.

You didn’t have any more bullet or this fucking asshole would already be dead. The blond tried to take back the control of the situation but he was clearly still a bit dazed from the violent punches he just received. He was struggling to hit him back as his arms were stuck under the big guy, a groan of exasperation and pain falling from his mouth.

When you saw the man grabbing a large knife from his belt, a rush of adrenaline courses through your veins. You literally sprinted there just in time to see the man roughly throwing his weapon toward Billy’s chest, trying to stab him. And he almost did. You let at a strangle cry at the gesture and almost tripped over but thankfully the blond rolled on himself at the last second, avoiding the – probably – deadly stab.

“Don’t touch him, you sick fuck !” You threw yourself on his back, not really your smartest move but you couldn’t think straight when Billy was in danger.

“Get off me, bitch !“ The man tried to dodge him from his back but you didn’t budge and quickly grabbed the thin rope from your belt, wrapped it around his neck and putting as much as pressure as you could.

The man started chocking immediately and Billy didn’t lose a second, pushing himself off the ground and stabbing the man with his own knife, right through his heart. A weak gasp escaped his throat as blood started dripping from the corner of his mouth, Billy quickly helping you get off from under his back.

"You’re okay ?” You immediately cradled his face, checking the bruises already forming on his beautiful face.

“Peachy” He mumbled, hissing quietly as he wiped the fresh blood from the scrap of his forehead. “Thanks to you. Would be dead without you” He added with a little smile as you both walked to the zip line, your hands still shaking at the previous events.

You could have lost him so easily. That was also why you both wanted to stop being part of the team. Always worried about your other significant, wondering if he would make it alive today.

“You scared the shit out of me, Billy” You whined as he quickly and skilfully hooking you to the zip line from the belt you were already wearing. "I thought he was going to…"A sniffle fell from your mouth and you immediately cleared your throat, it wasn’t the time to let the emotions drowned you.

"I know babe” The blond pressed a short kiss on your hairs and hooked himself to the line too as you took a deep breath. You weren’t safe yet. “Let’s go home” You both walked to the edge of the building and you hugged tightly Billy as he jumped off the roof, sliding fast down the safe place where the other were waiting.

***********************************************

General Headquarters of the 6 Underground team.

“How you’re feeling, Nick Fury ?” One snorted as soon as you strolled in the HQ, wearing this stupid patch on your left eye.

“Ha-ha, very funny, One” You rolled your eyes, well your eye and took a seat at the large table, slamming of piece of paper in front of your boss.

“What the fuck is this ?” He asked, a spoonful of cereal crushing loudly under his teeth.

“You said you were going shopping later, I need that” You slid it toward him and threw a quick glance without any real interest.

“Why on earth would I do your shopping ?”

“Because I look like a fucking pirate and I practically can’t walk because of this stupid ankle” You glanced angrily at your foot which forced you to stay in bed for the past five days.

“And what about Skywalker ? Too busy doing nothing ?” One groaned exasperatedly.

“In fact, I’m too busy doing my darlin’ girlfriend” Billy chimed in a he walked in the living-room, biting in an apple. “Maybe you should try and get laid too One, couldn’t hurt you”

You pretend to be annoyed by his comment but your amused smile betrayed you. It was hard to resist his cheeky grin, especially when he was looking so good, all sweaty and just back from the gym.

“You’re fucking gross” One stood up and grabbed your shopping list before leaving the room mumbling quietly.

You and Billy exchanged a fond gaze, knowing that under his shell, the big boss considered all of you like family.

“You’re supposed to be in bed” The blond commented as he walked to you, dropping a little peck on your hairs.

“Yeah but I wake up and you weren’t there anymore” You shrugged and giggled stupidly when he crouched down at your level. “Billy, seriously I can walk to the trailer, it’s not that far”

“Up on my back, missy” You shook your head childishly and watched your boyfriend stood back up, brows arched. “You’re not supposed to put pressure on your ankle, back to bed now” He softly pushed few locks of hair behind your hairs, giving you the sweetest look ever.

His way to convince you to go back lay down on your bed.

“I’ve been laying in bed all week Billy” You whined with a pout. “I’m so done staying in this damn freaking bed. It’s boring” You crossed your arms, remembering that you already asked him three times to go buy a new mattress and still nothing.

“Well I don’t know for you…” He tilted his face close to yours, his lips hovering above your mouth but quite not kissing yet. His warm breath gently caressing your face making you momentarily forgetting about his request. “But I, have few ideas to pass time in this damn freaking bed” His cocky and raspy tone sent a wave of electricity directly to your core, your fingers involuntary curling against your palm.

“Oh yeah ?” You grabbed the hem of his tee-shirt, tugging him closer to you and he smirked wider at your receptiveness. “Like what ?” He slid a finger under your chin and tilted your head toward him before pressing a hot, dirty kiss on your desperate mouth.

“Like…"He broke the kiss but didn’t let go of your bottom lip, tugging at it with his teeth until you hissed, feeling him grinned against you. ”…fucking you face down onto this mattress that you love so much…“ You didn’t even mind the irony about this damn mattress, too occupied with the hotness growing inside your body. "Sound good to you, babe ?” His question was useless and you both knew it. The unsteadiness of your breath and the way your hands were tightly clasped around his forearm were enough hints to understand the situation easily.

But he loved hearing you saying it anyway.

“Yes” You breathed out quietly, his digits rubbing dangerously high on your thigh, each of his stroke deliciously burning your skin.

“Yes what ?” He repeated with a teasing smile, earning a little whine from you.

You should have excepted that from this cocky bastard.

“I want you to fuck me with my face down against the mattress Billy” You repeated and internally cringed about your desperation. “Hard, please”

For all answer he gave a predatory, toothy smile which made your core throbbed with need before grabbing you roughly by the waist, throwing you on his shoulder like a rag doll. You gasped loudly, scolding him for his brusqueness and he only chuckled carelessly, delivering a sharp slap on your covered arse, a little moan leaving your parted lips.

***********************************************

“BILLY !” You screamed his name again and again, trying to reach him but you couldn’t move. “Billy…“ You let out a strangled sob at his pleading eyes looking toward you.

He was being tackled against a wall by a man, a hand tightly wrapped around his neck, applying a strong pressure on it. The lack of air in Billy’s lungs were obvious as his head was slowly turning a worrying shade of red. The little vessels on his eyes were bright red, his eyes popping out of their sockets from the urge to breath.

You could see his hands trying to push away the man from him, little desperate gasps chocking out from his parted lips.

The man decided to move away his hand and instead threw him violently on the floor, kicking his ribs roughly.

Billy coughed loudly, thin dash of blood escaping from his mouth.

"Let him go !” You yelled again, forcing your body to move but a sharp pain on your wrists made you looked down. Ropes. So tightly wrapped around your skin that every little move was burning, atrociously scratching your body.

You looked back at Billy and this time he was on his knees. Arms crossed behind his back, his face covered in bruises and dry blood. You opened your mouth to call him but nothing came out, unable to make a single noise.

The same man from earlier came back, holding a gun in his hand, walking straight for Billy. You eyes widened at the sight and you tried your best to wriggle out of your chains, gaze fixed on your boyfriend.

No, no, no.

Please, no.

Everything went horribly slowly as you watched the man raising the hand holding the deadly weapon, tears obscuring your vision. Billy stayed still, his chest straight as he fixed the man, jaw clenching firmly.

“Are you afraid ?” The man whispered dangerously low, gun pointing directly on his head.

For a split second you locked eyes with the blond before he looked back at the man.

“Never” Billy growled before spitting a bit of blood on the floor, gaze fierce and burning with anger.

The man chuckled darkly. Completely useless, you watched the man’s fingers taking off the security of his gun. The unmistakable sound brought shivers down your spine. You barely noticed the spams in Billy’s jaw because of your whole body was shaking violently.

“Liar” The man murmured with a satisfied smirk, slowly pressing the head off the gun on his forehead.

A strangle sob escaped your throat painfully at the gesture. That caught Billy’s attention. His beautiful green eyes fell on yours, tears silently falling on your cheeks. His lips mouthed something to you but you couldn’t understand it. The loud thumbing of your heart against your rib cage was making your head spin.

The deafening sound of a bullet leaving the gun tore the heavy silence, echoed loudly in your head. And then the noise of Billy’s body collapsing on the ground, the thick smell of powder and iron making you sick.

“BILLY !“

You jolted awake on the mattress, eyes wide opened, sweat dripping from your forehead and heart beating too quickly.

You let out a loud, throaty sob, your whole frame shaking and shivering violently at the vivid memories of Billy’s dead body. You didn’t even notice your movements, rocking yourself in poor attempt of calming your nerves, gaze staring at Billy’s empty side of bed.

You didn’t hear the sound of the door’s trailer opened before two soft hands clasping around your shoulders.

"Baby, what’s going on ? (Y/N), (Y/N) !” You felt someone cradled your face, warm digits stroking your wet cheeks. “Breath with me, baby. Inhale…exhale…just like that, love” You did as he said, feeling your pulse starting to slowing down and your breathing becoming easier.

Several seconds later, you could finally see him. Billy, alive and well, looking worriedly at you.

“You…“ A small cry fell from your mouth and the blond pressed a kiss on his forehead before bringing you against his chest. “You were dead” You breathed out almost painfully, hands desperately grabbing him, the fear that he would disappeared making you sick.

“Still having these nightmares ?” You nodded weakly, nose pressed against his jumper, feeling a little bit more at ease with his familiar scent. “You know I’m not going anywhere, baby. There is no way I’m leaving you alone, love you too much for that” A small hiccup escaped your mouth, bringing Billy to only hug your tighter.

You had absolutely no idea for how long you stayed like that. Minutes ? Hours ? ? All track of time was lost in his strong, safe arms, his lips gently kissed your hairs and murmuring sweet nothing to you until you finally calmed down.

“You were out ?” You mumbled sleepily, head resting in the crook of Billy’s neck, exhaustion growing in your bones.

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep. I went for a run then I heard screaming when I was coming back” He pushed back the bed cover with his free hand and gently moved you under the warm blanket, chuckling softly at your drooping eyelids. “M gonna go for a quick shower, okay ?” He kissed your shoulder as you barely managed to murmur a little okay before settling comfortably in the bed.

Those nightmares weren’t new for neither of you. It was the normal consequences of a constantly dangerous life. Always worrying about each other. About your friends. Wondering if it was your last day truly alive.

For you it was always the same way. You fell asleep and suddenly everything seemed so real that you couldn’t tell if you were awake or no. Usually you were so scared you whole body were just freezing, not able to wake up until either your boyfriend did it or something really intense happened in the dream. Translating by Billy’s death most of the time. Gunshot. Stabbing. Falling. Drowning. And every time you woke up, you were terrified it happened for real one day.

That was mostly why you and Billy were leaving the team. You didn’t want to worry every time you were apart for few hours.

For him, it was different. He couldn’t fall asleep. Someday his mind would race about the dangerousness of the missions you were all doing. The thick tension which wrapped around his body each time you had to take care of explosives. It was a deep, freezing kind of fear running through his veins. He would remember that you would have to do it again and again. He would just lay in bed, making sure you were next to him, keeping his eyes open with the fear of seeing something he didn’t want to if he closed them. So, sometimes he would go for a run, changing his mind or running until he was too exhausted to even think about anything.

Few minutes later, you were fighting the sleepiness drowning you, eyes closing by themselves every two seconds but you wanted to wait for Billy. Too scared to just go back right into this nightmare. You felt the mattress quietly creaked as the blond joined you in bed, switching off the light before sliding under the covers behind you.

“Try to sleep, baby” He murmured lazily, knowing you wouldn’t fall asleep without him. He pressed his chest against your back, one arm sliding under your head and the other one resting gently on your stomach. “Good night, gorgeous” A small kiss dropped on your hairs and you sighed quietly at the gesture, relaxing against his warm frame.

“Two more missions” You quietly said, eyes closed and hand linked with Billy’s one.

“ Two more missions” The blond repeated in a soft sigh, his head resting on top of yours, the sound of his steady heartbeat quickly lulling you to sleep.

2 more missions left.

#Ben Hardy x reader #Four x reader #6 underground #ben hardy x you #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #ben x reader #ben hardy #billy x reader #six underground

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