#maybe it's because there's nobody else in the room so young ruffles his hair | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phoenixyfriend · 3 years ago

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Quinlan and the Interdimensional Ingenues (except not really)

Context: SW Suddenly Omegaverse AU (Original Post), Interior Design (Nesting Divots), Chrono Rating: T+ Relationships: Anakin & Obi-Wan, Quinlan/Obi-Wan

This is like 90% cuddles and scenting that’s a few steps to the side of a/b/o standard. There is a lot of non-sexual licking. It’s a little odd, but I’m assuming that’s what you’re here for. It’s also over 5k words, so, you know. There’s that.

Note: “Ternary” is to the number three as “binary” is to the number two. Binary gender/sex refers to IRL male/female distinctions, and ternary refers to alpha/beta/omega. Gender and sex are much more complicated than is touched on in this particular fic, and trans identities exist within both the binary system and the ternary system. (More notes at end.)

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“Sorry to tell you this,” Quinlan says, sliding into the room as quickly as he can, “but we can smell omega distress from several rooms down the hall. What the hell is going on?”

“We’ve having a lot of feelings,” Kenobi says drily. He’s on the couch, looking damnably normal, and Skywalker’s got his face shoved into his master’s neck. Kenobi’s fingers card through the curls, and it’s... well, it would be easy to tell which of them was having said feelings even if Quinlan hadn’t already been able to tell them apart in scent.

“I’m distraught,” Skywalker moans, mushing himself somehow closer.

Kenobi’s eyes go to the ceiling, and he visibly prays to the Force for patience. “I know, Anakin.”

“You think I’m being dumb.”

“I think you’ve had a few months to prepare for this, but that your reaction is understandable nevertheless,” Kenobi says carefully. “Quinlan, would you like to take a seat?”

He hops the back of an armchair in a way that earns him a long-suffering, fond sigh. Quinlan grins encouragingly. “So, do I get to know what this is about?”

“I’m having trouble keeping it out of the Force, but at least I can do that,” Skywalker mutters. He does not lift his head. “I can’t control the scent stuff.”

“Yeah,” Quinlan says, because he’s not sure what else to say. “Do you want me to go get Tano? Might make you feel better.”

Skywalker just whines, high and pained, and tries to curl impossibly closer to Kenobi.

“Anakin,” Kenobi tries. “Anakin, do you want me to explain?”

“I want my--” Skywalker cuts himself off with a choking noise, and then keens. It’s a very omega noise, in the sense that his vocal cords can make it, and non-omegas have trouble mimicking it, and it makes Quinlan want to go over and do his best to fix things in whatever way he can.

(This, everyone is finding, is the truly awkward element to having Skywalker and Kenobi around. They don’t have any experience with controlling their ternary sex instincts, and it makes everyone else react poorly when they do, well, almost anything. They can’t be blamed, considering exactly how inconvenient this is for them, as well, but it’s not a great time for anyone.)

Quinlan tries to keep his own scent pleasant and calm, as soothing as he can make it through the blockers. He doesn’t think it works. “Your what?”

“His wife,” Kenobi says. “Because apparently that was the other way he broke the Code.”

“I looked her up,” Skywalker moans, dramatic as anyone. “She’s already mated and married, in this timeline. To that artist. She’s totally happy and she’s never met me and I’m never gonna be able to work with or around her because I won’t be able to act normal about it and I miss her.”

‘A lot of feelings‘ Kenobi mouths at Quinlan over Skywalker’s head.

“Well, at least it explains the position you’re in,” Quinlan tries to joke. The blank look he gets from Kenobi tells him clearly that the joke didn’t land. “Uh, scenting at the neck like that.”

“Inappropriate?” Kenobi hazards a guess. He doesn’t pull Skywalker away.

“Sort of,” Quinlan says. “You’re family, or as good as, so between that and the need for comfort, nobody’s really going to judge you for it, especially given your backgrounds, but that kind of prolonged neck-scenting for comfort is something kids outgrow in pre-adolescence. It’s only really used for either comfort for extreme emotions, like this, or, uh, between lovers. Post-coital, or during foreplay before, you know, mouths get involved.”

Kenobi grimaces. “Lovely. And what do you mean by ‘of our backgrounds’ in this case? That we have less control, or another factor?”

He doesn’t sound offended. Quinlan appreciates that. “You didn’t have ten years to get that comfort. It’s like... touch starvation, but for scenting. Anyone who knows what’s going on with you, even in the vague sense that doesn’t involve dimensional travel, is going to give you leeway on scenting because you didn’t have that, growing up.”

Kenobi’s grimace doesn’t go away until Skywalker’s breath hitches, hand curling in his master’s robes. “Anakin?”

“I don’t like feeling like this,” Skywalker mutters. “It sucks.”

“I know.”

“And we can’t delay the war much longer, and she was one of the only reasons I stayed even kinda sane through it.”

“I know, Anakin,” Kenobi sighs, running a hand through Skywalker’s hair and, awkwardly as anything, pressing a small kiss to the young man’s forehead. “You’ll have other ways to de-stress this time around. Maybe you’ll actually attend your meditative retreats.”

Skywalker huffs out a breath, in a laugh wet with what might be burgeoning tears. “Shut up.”

“I think you’ve known me far too long to think I’ll ever run out of words,” Kenobi says. He meets Quinlan’s eyes again, but before either of them can communicate about whether Quinlan should leave, Skywalker lurches to his feet, muttering something about a shower.

He’s gone before Kenobi can get more than two words out, and the man is left looking ruffled and confused by his former padawan’s sudden departure. He stays watching the door, and slowly wilts in a way that doesn’t speak well for his state of mind. The man sighs and drops his head into his hands, cradling it with his elbows on his knees, and whatever calm he’d had fades into pure stress, the air curdling with the smell of it.

Quinlan waits, unsure of how to handle this; Kenobi’s Quinlan Vos probably would have known how to deal with the change.

“What am I doing?” Kenobi breathes out, the words almost inaudible from behind his hands.

There are a few moments for Quinlan to consider the many complications and ramifications of getting involved, and then he decides to do so anyway. He stands up and steps around the caff table, and sits down next to Kenobi. He wraps an arm around the man’s shoulders, and brings him in close.

“You don’t have to do this,” Kenobi says, though he makes no move to pull away. “I know you don’t... this is just an obligation. The Council assigned you to gather information and keep an eye out for us in terms of the whole omega thing, since you already shared my heat, and... I know I’m not a friend to you. You barely know me, and the fact that you have to look out for me is something that truly grates. Such care shouldn’t...”

Quinlan waits for him to finish, but he doesn’t.

“I won’t say that they didn’t give me that assignment, because that would be a lie and you’d know it,” Quinlan says. “But I do want to be friends with you. We’re sort of there, already, even if that’s mostly you knowing my other self, and my psychometry, but I’ve seen what a friendship with you could be like, in what you let me see. We’ll never have that same dynamic, because I didn’t grow up with you, and the ternary sex adds an element that changes things, but I do want to be your friend.”

He hesitates, unsure if the rest will make things worse or better, but says it anyway. “As for taking care of you, looking out for you... I do feel a need to do that on an instinctual level, yes, but I can ignore it. It’s an instinct, but one that I, like everyone else that’s grown up as a human or near human in this galaxy, can work around. I am doing more than the minimum the Council requested, and it’s because I do actually like you as a person, and want to know you better.”

Kenobi’s head is resting on his shoulder by this point, tired and heavy, and Quinlan reaches up to brush his knuckles against the beard without looking. His blockers are still keeping his scent down, but the contact seems to make Kenobi relax more. His hands are mostly laced together, and falling into the dip between their legs.

“There’s a way I can help, but it’s, ah... not inherently sexual in nature, but generally only done by those whose relationship is already some degree of sexual,” Quinlan tells him. “To make you feel better, less stressed.”

“I’m assuming you’re not suggesting an orgasm,” Kenobi mutters, dry as anything. He laughs when Quinlan puts a hand on his knee.

“Not exactly feeling it,” Quinlan agrees. He squeezes Kenobi’s knee, and then says, “No, it’s mostly scenting in a way that’s usually only done by lovers; it’s more effective, but very intimate in a way many find uncomfortably sexual, because the amount of tongue involved is very reminiscent of foreplay.”

Kenobi laughs, a little harder, and nuzzles a little. He doesn’t seem aware of the fact that he’s doing it. “Alright, then.”

“I’d also suggest moving to one of the nests,” Quinlan says, and Kenobi immediately freezes. He gives it a moment, and then says, “I know you found it helpful after your heat, Kenobi. The nesting instinct is human here. It’s not shameful. There are people who don’t get anything out of it, but I’ve seen you nesting, and it’s good for you.”

Kenobi shudders and Quinlan thinks he might be fighting down a whine. “It’s a change, Quin. I mean, Quinlan. It’s... it’s just another thing out of many that’s different.”

“And one of the few you have control over?” Quinlan guesses. He tries to purr for support when Kenobi nods against his shoulder, and he thinks the deep rumble is soothing to Kenobi. “I get that.”

“Don’t stop,” Kenobi mutters, and Quinlan can guess he’s blushing about it.

“Into the nest,” Quinlan mutters. “It’ll help convince Skywalker to use it, and he really needs that kind of comfort.”

That’s the line of logic that actually works, and Quinlan isn’t the least bit surprised.

“Fine,” Kenobi sighs, and gets to his feet before Quinlan can offer to carry him or something similarly joking. The man walks to the communal nest at the edge of the room, and then looks down into the barely-used mess of blankets and pillows in the floor divot like he doesn’t even know how to get in.

Quinlan thinks there might be dust, even.

Fine. He can work with that. He’s taken this duo on as a project of his own free will, and he’s damn well going to follow through.

“Want to rearrange it?” he asks, in hopes that he can prompt Kenobi into figuring out what’s wrong.

“I don’t... know,” Kenobi says, frowning in a way that’s more worried and uncomfortable than angry. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Quinlan considers it, thinks of how the dust means nobody’s been here, that there’s not even a hint of scent, and then turns and grabs the throw pillows and thick, woven blanket from the couch.

“Wait,” Kenobi protests. “They don’t--”

“We can put them back later,” Quinlan assures him. He holds them out to Kenobi. “Trust me? I may not be an omega, but I do know enough of the theory.”

Kenobi takes the pillows and the blanket, stares down at them and then at the nest, and steps out of his slippers and into the nest. The layer already there is thin, and likely not doing much for anyone, but it’s the bare minimum and Quinlan can work with that.

He turns and scouts the room for spare fabrics, grabs all three of the outer robes from where they hang by the door, and the recently-used dishtowel that only barely carries Skywalker’s scent, and brings them to Kenobi.

“The robes aren’t clean!” Kenobi protests.

“I could grab something from your room instead,” Quinlan says. “Or you could just leave the hems on the outside. But you need more fabric that actually smells like someone.”

Quinlan wonders, idly, if Kenobi would have this kind of reaction to the suggestion without omega instincts at play, or if it’s just the instincts and he doesn’t realize, or maybe that he’s decided to let the instincts happen since Quinlan’s pushed him into nesting already anyway. The man had insisted in perfectly pressing his robes from the beginning, long before their bodies had had a chance to change, and Skywalker had found it normal, so it’s probably, at least a little, just the man’s personality. It probably doesn’t matter, overall, because all Quinlan has to do is sit at the edge of the nest until Kenobi--the person who actually lives here--is done arranging things.

Quinlan takes off another two layers and offers them, noting out loud that he can get them back later when Skywalker can fill in the gaps or something before too many protests can be voiced. Kenobi hesitantly takes them and tucks them in among his own additional layers. Quinlan’s seen enough communal nests to know that most of the placements are odd and not going to work out long-term, but that’s not the point right now. The point is getting Kenobi to recognize the his body, and more importantly, his mental health, rely at least somewhat on nesting now.

“Are you going to come in?” Kenobi asks, belatedly realizing Quinlan’s still outside the lip of the flooring divot.

“Not without permission,” Quinlan says, and sees the realization flicker in.

Kenobi holds out a hand, silent, and Quinlan lets himself get tugged in among the half-stale, half-new nest. It’s not great, but that’ll come with practice. He tucks himself around Kenobi, and rubs at the man’s arms in an attempt to ease some of the tension that’s clinging to every line of his body.

“What now?” Kenobi asks, just a shade more quiet than Quinlan thinks is really required by the situation.

“A lot of the stress you’re feeling is a feedback loop from being covered in your own distress scent,” Quinlan says. “You can shower to handle that, which is what Skywalker is doing, or you can manually remove it.”

“I’d imagine a wet towel,” Kenobi says, a touch wry, “but given that you mentioned tongue earlier, I’m guessing you intend to lick it away?”

“It’s more effective,” Quinlan admits. “Not at removing the scent, necessarily, but it removes enough to help while also generating comfort and relaxation hormones from the close contact, and being scented by a trusted individual.”

“Makes sense,” Kenobi admits. “You, ah, use scent blockers usually, right? Can you, er, scent me?”

Quinlan can see just how much Kenobi dislikes using the words. He tries to keep it quick. “I use a cream blocker over my scent glands, namely at the neck and wrists, since the rest are covered in fabric. It’s... well, it can be wiped off, or also removed orally. Most manually-applied blockers are formulated to be safe for contact with the mouth or genitals. Only really gets to be a problem if there are rare allergies or with specific species. It doesn’t taste like anything, if that matters.”

Kenobi’s discomfort is almost palpable, but Quinlan lets him work through that. This isn’t really something he can make a choice for Kenobi about, and the discomfort is... well, it’s not really the kind of discomfort usually associated with ternary sex and associated behaviors. Everything’s just very new, and comes with changes to the body that Kenobi never agreed to.

“Right,” Kenobi says. “I want to... to at least try it, I think.”

He turns and blushes, eyes anywhere by Quinlan’s face. “I don’t know how much longer Anakin will be. I’d rather he not think we’re, er...”

“Then I’ll take care of that part fast,” Quinlan promises, and is rewarded by Kenobi offering a wrist.

It’s... not sexual. Quinlan knows he has a hard time explaining this to near-humans that don’t have the scent glands, that don’t have the ternary dynamics. He’s had a similarly hard time explaining it to Kenobi and Skywalker. It’s not sexual, just intimate, when he pulls Kenobi’s wrist to his face, closes his eyes, and breathes in the scent of a distressed, uncomfortable, bitter omega that he’s shared a heat with and knows as almost-friend. The smell, this close and this strong, triggers the production of pheromones of his own, and when he feels Kenobi tentatively start pressing kisses to Quinlan’s own wrist, he relaxes. He brushes his lips against Kenobi’s wrist, and then puts his open mouth to it, the slightest press of teeth and his tongue laving across the skin. He hears Kenobi’s gasp, an almost-yelp, and pulls away long enough to press a kiss the the veins under his lips, and to say, “Relax, Kenobi.”

He forces a purr out, low and rumbling, and feels it work on Kenobi just like it did earlier. There’s a tongue pulling, a little dry, to rub away the blocker on the inside of his wrist, and he turns his attention back to Kenobi’s. The scent is even stronger on his tongue, bitter and unhappy, and his body continues to produce calm and comfort as he pulls away the uglier feelings painted on Kenobi’s skin.

More pheromones leak under his mouth, but less bitter. Less intense. He does what he can, opens his eyes and turns and sees that Kenobi is unduly focused on his wrist, mouthing and not quite purring, but oddly fuzzy in the Force. His eyes are closed, but Quinlan’s pretty sure they’d be glazed if not.

“Kenobi?”

“Hm?”

“Guess you haven’t encountered this outside of a heat before,” Quinlan mutters. He shakes his arm a bit, and puts his other hand on Kenobi’s shoulder. “Kenobi, hey, look at me?”

Kenobi pulls away, blinking, and then makes a face. “That...”

“Didn’t like losing control?” Quinlan guesses. The answer is clear enough. “It’s a matter of practice, especially for you.”

“Why did I... it smelled and tasted like... like I was safe,” Kenobi mutters lowly, eyes on the nest instead of on Quinlan. “I’ve never associated any sense with safety other than the Force.”

“You trust me,” Quinlan says, as if that’s not a little terrifying in its own way. He already knew that Kenobi trusted him, but he thinks that this strong of a reaction might make him Kenobi’s most trusted person after Skywalker and maybe Tano. “And since you trust me, your body subconsciously takes cues from mine, when it comes to pheromones. I project comfort and safety, and your body takes it as... not fact, but affirmation.”

“So I won’t react to anyone like this,” Kenobi says, not quite begging for Quinlan to confirm, but close to it. “Just you, and... does that same logic apply to those who aren’t Alpha designation?”

“Yeah,” Quinlan says. “Not in the same way, but familiarity and trust does affect which pheromones affect you, and how strongly. Children are largely unresponsive to aggression pheromones from their parents, by default, since their minds process it as aggression in defense of them, rather than aggression at them.”

Kenobi purses his lips, but nods and looks at Quinlan’s other wrist. “Moving on?”

“If you’re okay with it,” Quinlan says, but he brings his cleaned wrist to Kenobi’s and rubs them together until his own comfort scent is covering up what’s left of the distress. “Take a smell at that and see how you feel.”

Kenobi eyes him warily--he’s pretty sure he hasn’t done anything to deserve that, but allows it because, well, Kenobi--and sniffs at his own wrist. His brow furrows in confusion, and he sniffs again.

“Good?” Quinlan hazards.

“I... yeah,” Kenobi says. He sounds as confused as he looks. “I like it. It’s... the safe thing, again, but mixing with me?”

“That’s how it’s supposed to feel,” Quinlan assures him. “Other wrist?”

If he were actually the friend that Kenobi had grown up with, if he’d actually had a Kenobi to grow up with, he thinks he might have thrown in a few joking pet names by now.

But he’s not, and they didn’t, so he won’t.

He thinks he hears Skywalker finish up in the shower, but Kenobi pulls his mouth to the neck, and mutters that they have some time while Skywalker does something to his hair. Apparently, there are products needed for those curls.

The angle’s going to be a little uncomfortable if they try to get at each other’s scent glands simultaneously, so Quinlan suggests that Kenobi handle getting the blocker off first.

“Why?”

“More convenient,” Quinlan says, and then clasps Kenobi’s hands so their wrists rub together. He squeezes, just a little, a touch of reassurance, and smiles and tilts his head. “All yours, Kenobi.”

The man smiles, brittle, and almost giggles. Maybe Quinlan was doing something oddly similar to his counterpart from Kenobi’s dimension. Maybe it was an inside joke he didn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because Kenobi’s leaning in and mouthing along Quinlan’s neck and throat like a man possessed a half-second later.

Quinlan closes his eyes and threads a hand into Kenobi’s hair, focuses on warmth and comfort and protection, rather than anything aroused. Kenobi slows down, lapping at Quinlan’s neck and inhaling, and in the Force he radiates confusion.

“That’s it,” Quinlan mutters, and Kenobi makes a low chirruping noise that he immediately stifles with an annoyed huff. “Hey, no, those are normal. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I want control over my own body, Quin,” Kenobi mutters, and switches to the other side. He rubs his face against Quinlan’s neck, and it’s another point on the list of things Kenobi does that he might not realize are based in newer instincts. “I don’t like something being wrong with me, and not understanding what it is.”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Quinlan mutters, using the hand in Kenobi’s hair to guide him into actually removing the scent blocker instead of donating a case of beard burn. “Even going as fast as you did just now wasn’t something wrong. Your instincts got a bit confused, that’s all. You’re fine.”

He purrs until Kenobi is done, and gets that chirruping noise again. Kenobi’s still annoyed about it, but Quinlan’s just happy he’s getting less uncomfortable about it.

“Okay, sit up and turn around,” Quinlan says, and Kenobi eyes him again. “Have I steered you wrong yet?”

“No.”

“So trust me,” Quinlan urges. “Just turn around.”

Kenobi does. Quinlan sits up and rearranges his legs so there’s one on either side of Kenobi, half-bent. He pulls the other man closer, blankets folding oddly beneath them, and wraps his arms around Kenobi’s waist.

He breathes for a moment, chin hooked over Kenobi’s shoulder, and asks, “Good?”

“Oddly so, yes,” Kenobi mutters. He might be blushing. “Er, should I... do anything?”

“Hands on mine, if you’d like,” Quinlan tells him. “We can lie back down and spoon after I clean up your left.”

The noise Kenobi makes is low, affronted in a way that speaks to his ongoing embarrassment. Quinlan ignores it, just gets to work taking away as much of Kenobi’s stress scent as he can, mouthing along the man’s neck and managing a purr that isn’t even forced. It rumbles out of him unprompted, his hindbrain piecing together the relaxing omega in his lap and the safety of the Temple and the pride he’s got in doing this right, the knowledge that Kenobi’s happier than he was an hour ago and it’s all Quinlan’s doing.

He rubs his face along Kenobi’s neck as he finishes up, scenting and being scented back, and is gratified when Kenobi starts purring too. The nuzzling is mostly soft, though Quinlan’s stubble is nothing to Kenobi’s beard; the hairs trap Quinlan’s scent where it’ll do the most good. He follows a hint of mischievous intent and tugs at Kenobi’s earlobe with his teeth, earning himself a little whine. He laughs, and licks the curve of Kenobi’s ear, immediately scenting further.

“Anakin’s going to be back soon,” Kenobi says, sounding almost sleep drunk.

Quinlan switches sides and guides them both down to lie, chest to front, in the nest. He works more slowly on the other side, keeps himself propped up on his elbow, forearm slipped neatly under Kenobi’s neck. The scent gland at Quinlan’s wrist rests under Kenobi’s nose, right where it’ll have the most effect. His other hand rubs up and down Kenobi’s side, and by the time Skywalker reenters the room, Quinlan’s done with licking the stress off and rubbing his scent into anything he thinks will help. He’s lying fully on his side instead of having his head propped up, and just doing his best to spread comfort through the room through Force and smell. He maybe nibbles at the back of Kenobi’s neck, here and there, because the man has lothcat response, and

“Guys?”

“Over here, Skywalker.”

The kid--not really a kid, but younger than Aayla, still, so he counts--rounds the couch, and sees them among the added cloaks and pillows and blanket. He stares. Kenobi starts to stiffen back up.

Quinlan increases his purring, and rubs his face against Kenobi’s neck, and glares up at Skywalker for good measure. Kenobi can’t see past Quinlan, probably, and squirms. Skywalker tilts his head, and then puts up a finger in a ‘one moment’ sort of gesture. He runs off.

“Anakin--”

“Kid’s fine,” Quinlan assures him, and Skywalker skids back into the room at unsafe speeds, arms full of what Quinlan’s pretty sure are his own duvet and pillow, and falls face-first into the nest. Kenobi jerks back into Quinlan, but Skywalker ignores this in favor of rearranging the nest into something approaching functional. He’s better at it than Kenobi.

Quinlan’s pretty sure Skywalker was more open to these things from the start. It tracks.

“Now Anakin, really,” Kenobi sputters, as Skywalker finishes layering things in the way he thinks is best. Skywalker beams at him, earlier melancholy forgotten for the moment, and flops down to drop his head somewhere near Kenobi’s chest.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” Skywalker says. “This is good for you.”

Kenobi blushes, and Quinlan scrapes his teeth against the back of his neck again.

“Quinlan!” Kenobi yelps, jolting. “Not--we’re not alone!”

“Helps you calm down, though,” Quinlan says, pressing a few close-mouthed kisses at Kenobi’s hairline.

“Different cultural standards,” Skywalker adds, half-guessing but sure of himself nonetheless. He seems entirely too delighted to be here. “You know what? We should invite Ahsoka.”

“She’s not your padawan here,” Kenobi scolds.

“Yet,” Skywalker corrects. “As soon as I get all my psych evals cleared, the Council’s going to promise. She’s basically my padawan already.”

Kenobi sighs, aggrieved in a manner that feels more fond than actually upset, in the Force, and places a hand lightly on Skywalker’s.

Skywalker chirrups and wriggles closer, pressing his face to Kenobi’s tunic with a smile.

“I see someone’s feeling better,” Kenobi notes, and moves his hand up to play with Skywalker’s hair. “The shower helped?”

“Mm-hm,” Skywalker says. “’nd some of the stuff they made me learn in therapy.”

Kenobi hums low in his throat, an aimless vocalization, as he continues to comb his fingers through Skywalker’s hair.

Skywalker blinks, slow and bleary, with a soft and dopey smile, and Kenobi stops.

“What?”

“I like it when you play with my hair,” Skywalker says, almost too low to hear. His eyes close. “Feels nice. Cared for. Family.”

Kenobi freezes, breath hitching, and Quinlan shifts and lifts just enough to see the man is staring at his own hand in confusion and a slight bit of fear.

“Kenobi?”

“I didn’t even question it,” Kenobi says faintly. “I don’t... I haven’t done that since he was just a child, but I didn’t even question it. I stopped myself from commenting that he’s too old to come to his master for cuddles, because he’s not, in this dimension, and I’m getting used to that, but I started playing with his hair like it was normal and it’s not.”

Quinlan puts his mouth to Kenobi’s trapezius, just enough pressure that he’s not biting, just there, and purrs.

It’s several inches away from anything resembling a mating bite, but Kenobi tilts his head and whines anyway.

“Obi-Wan?” Skywalker prompts, brow furrowed. “It’s not... I mean, I’m not going to say it’s okay, since I know we’re both still upset about our bodies being changed without our permission or input or even a warning, but we’re getting used to it. We’re working with it. The hair thing is fine with me, I like it and would have before. And now that you know you’ll want to do, uh, that sort of thing--”

“Subset of grooming behaviors,” Quinlan tells them, pulling away from Kenobi’s neck with a final open-mouthed kiss. He sees the face Skywalker makes in response to the words, and feels Kenobi’s discomfort, so he elaborates. They’ve compared most of what they hear with tookas and lothwolves, so he thinks he knows what this is about. “We’re not exactly going to start licking each other clean--excluding scent comfort, that’s different--like lothcats, but you’ve already noticed that humans and near-humans are more tactile than you’re used to. Most forms of care, especially of partners and children, ends up physical in some way.”

He gestures between the two of them. “You view Skywalker as family, for all that you shy away from defining it, and so naturally gravitate to care. The easiest way for that to manifest when sharing a nest is usually playing with someone’s hair. Since he’s younger than you, and you’ve spent as much time as you have being the adult in his life...”

Quinlan trails off before he can comment on the question of whether they’re closer to brothers or father-and-son. Kenobi’s already expressed discomfort with that topic, well before they started naturalizing to this dimension. Quinlan’s not going to push for Kenobi to acknowledge Skywalker’s importance to him.

(They’ll have to address it at some point, but that’s a job for the mind healers, not for Quinlan.)

(For all that it’s going to impact and be impacted by their dynamics, that much is definitely not Quinlan’s to handle.)

Kenobi shudders in his arms, but doesn’t shake him off, and doesn’t stop Skywalker from burrowing somehow closer. Quinlan settles back in as Kenobi returns to playing with Skywalker’s hair.

“We really should invite Ahsoka, though.”

“Not tonight, padawan.”

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Additional notes:

I initially wrote “ternary gender,” but found that it didn’t strike true to how I envisioned gender and dynamic playing out among Jedi culture in particular. While the term ‘dynamic’ is used regularly in a more casual setting, Quinlan uses the term “ternary sex” when talking about it in the company of Anakin and Obi-Wan. I view it as a subconscious attempt to keep a clinical view of the ternary sex system present in the omegaverse dimension, in recognition that it’s new and unfamiliar and often unpleasant for Anakin and Obi-Wan, having come from a dimension that doesn’t have ternary sexes or the associated reproductive capabilities, instincts, or cycles.

I’d like to explore how the ideas of sex, gender, dynamic, and so on intersect within the context of this universe, because I think it’s something I’d have a lot of fun working with, but this is not the fic for that.

#Quinlan Vos #Obi Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #QuinObi #anakin and obi wan #obi wan and anakin #disaster lineage #time travel #dimension hopping #omegaverse #SW Suddenly Omegaverse #past anidala #star wars #the clone wars #nesting #grooming #scenting #we went fully weird with this and I'm not apologizing... much #Phoenix Posts

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hqcult · 4 years ago

Text

21ST ## the miya twins

you visit hyogo to celebrate your 21st birthday with your extended family. you met atsumu and osamu, who were oh so excited to meet you.

. tw manipulation, pseudo-incest, noncon, cunnilingus, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mindbreak, implied double penetration, dark content . wc 4.3k

looking back, the twins are good fucking actors. they deserve some oscar-level award with how much they smiled those sweet honey smiles and lured you into a sense of security before baring their fangs and pulling you down to hell with them. but they never would’ve gotten the chance to act if you hadn’t been there as their audience. so, the truth remains the same—this is all your fault. you never should’ve insisted coming to hyōgo in the first place.

ever since getting adopted at the tender age of thirteen and moving to tokyo, you’ve seen everything there is to see, ate at every restaurant with a 5-star review on google. you’ve done them all at least thrice by now and it’s getting boring.

so, when your adoptive father had jokingly talked about coming to hyōgo to meet your extended family for your 21st birthday, you perked up in your seat and your eyes twinkled like stars.

your mom didn’t want to go at first, of course, claiming you’ll get carsick but your parents eventually gave in after seeing the pleading look in your eyes and the genuine excitement in your stance.

long story short, you did end up getting carsick. quite a few times too, actually. but you were already driving along the expressway and your mom’s sister was already expecting the three of you. so, naturally, you guys pushed through, your dad making sure he drove as smoothly as possible in order not to trigger another barfing session from you.

it was twilight by the time your dad pulled up on his sister-in-law’s driveway and the first you see were two identical faces—twins? for step-cousins? well, now that was something. you’ve never really met twins before so it was a whole new experience and it excited you greatly.

not to mention how you and atsumu instantly hit it off, your personalities aligning. yet when you sat next to osamu during dinner, the younger twin found it wasn’t as hard talking to you compared to his brother. in fact, he found it interesting how easy it was to converse with you, the words flowing out his lips. you were just so painfully compatible with them that why oh why did the universe have to make you their half-cousin?

the shift in their behavior wasn’t at all gradual but can you really blame them? you were such a good daughter, such a beauty. and they guess the whole ‘pseudo-incest’ taboo thing amplified your appeal all the more.

well, at least in their defense, atsumu and osamu genuinely wanted to get to know their new cousin in the most innocent, platonic way and not this weird thing they’re feeling right now. but you were so damn irresistible that they couldn’t keep their feelings in check.

how kind of ‘samu to grab the coffee container at the topmost shelf for you during breakfast, not knowing he purposely puts it there every night so he can “accidentally” rub his morning wood against your ass.

your ‘tsumtsum is such an angel when he doesn’t hesitate to take off his outerwear and lends it to you whenever you forget yours, not knowing he snatches them from the laundry basket and leaving you no choice but to use his. the sweet scent you leave on the jacket is enough to throw him off the edge and have him climaxing as he fucked his own hand.

nobody noticed, everyone was distracted by their achievements at such a young age. all their mom had to say is how osamu yet again made it to dean’s lister or how atsumu got scouted for a national team.

your mom and dad didn’t notice, lost in the daydream of always wanting to have their own son only to end up with you. blinded of their dazzle that the rotten pieces of them were fully camouflaged by the glow.

it all came to a peak when the twins were pulling all-nighter playing games like always.

atsumu needed to use the restroom, and just as he’s passing by your door, he heard a questionable sound that made him stop, frozen and unbelieving.

carefully, he tiptoes closer to place his ear against your door, praying to whomever that the floorboards don’t creak and disrupt whatever you’re doing. silence, seconds of it. then click, a switch turning on, he hears low vibration and a shaky whimper, a slick sound that reminded him of—

you were touching yourself.

holy fucking crap.

atsumu can only stare at the door with a knowing curl in his lips as he quickly pushes down his boxers. the risk of getting caught masturbating so out in the open making all the blood rush south.

“guess yer not as innocent as i thought ya were,” he mutters, spitting on his palm before wrapping it around his dick.

he shut his eyes close, clinging desperately into the imagination of how it would feel like to fuck your cunny instead of his hand. how the view would be like as he forces your legs up and into a mating press as he rutted his hips into you. at least you were loud, the moans he can hear as clear as day and he’s thankful he needn’t depend on his imagination anymore like all the other times.

you better be fucking thankful that the rest of the rooms were downstairs or else your parents and their mom would’ve heard by now. eh, atsumu didn’t mind. he got off on the risque idea of getting caught in the act.

when your pitch grows whinier and he hears your quick rufflings on the bed, he knows you’re close. he can hear the frantic and changing levels of the vibrator as you fucked it into your walls.

“fuck,” he hissed, the mental image of you masturbating and putting on a show for him making him teeter over the edge.

he grunts, low and animalistic, as spurts of his cum stains his hands and the floor. he didn’t care. he pumped himself through his orgasm and it was the best he’s ever got in a while. who knew all he needed to hear was his little step-cousin lewdly touching herself? naughty, naughty girl.

when he heard your panting after cumming against your little toy, he took his cue and speed-walked towards his and osamu’s bedroom to get a cloth he’ll use to clean the front of your door. but just as he caught you in the act, he caught his own brother red-handed, too.

the tiny specks of cum on the wall where osamu stood is a ghastly sight but atsumu couldn’t care less.

silently, the twins exchanged a knowing glance.

“ya heard ‘er too?”

someone knocks on your bedroom door on the eve of your birthday.

osamu was tasked to wake you up while atsumu started the car. you didn’t respond. were you… he slowly opens the door, he spots you immediately in the bundle of blankets atop your bed. when he stalks closer, you looked so cozy that osamu almost got tempted to ditch the idiot and come snuggle with you under the blankets instead.

but he has two heads and the one he’s using to think is located south.

he wakes you up with a gentle shake on the shoulder. “‘samu?” you mutter, voice low and croaky from your deep sleep when you see a blurry tousle of gray hair.

“let’s do a countdown for yer birthday, angel. come on, put on a jacket. ‘tsumu’s already startin’ up the car.”

osamu’s blunt nails dug half-moon crescents into his palms as he saw your tiny pajama shorts and the slip top when you shoved the blankets away. he swore his palms would’ve bled, especially after seeing you bending over to look for a hoodie inside your luggage.

he stared so openly, it was almost predatory in a sense.

as you scamper down the stairs with the younger twin’s hands dangerously grazing the top of your rear, you thought it’s plain old protective ‘samu being worried you’ll make a misstep and break your neck.

“where’s everybody?”

“just us three, angel. ‘lil cousin bonding before yer big party tonight, y’know?”

you giggled. how sweet, you thought.

you didn’t sense a thing. didn’t see a single red flag even if it was being waved across your face like what they do in bullfights. osamu felt a little sorry for how they’re blatantly manipulating you but it’s too late to back out now, much less let the guilt eat up his insides. he shouldn’t be a hypocrite considering he jacked off to your moans, too, that night.

he’s really no different than atsumu and it’s a tough pill to swallow.

“shotgun!”

it wasn’t osamu that stops you, but atsumu, from scampering into the front seat. the older twin quickly locks the door before lowering down the passenger side’s window.

“nuh-uh, birthday girl. ya can’t sit here or the surprise’ll be ruined!”

you grumble, frowning as you scoot yourself in the backseat of the car. atsumu twists his torso towards the back, asking you to wear the blindfold he’s handing you. it was a little tough with how stubborn you are but ‘tsumu’s just too good with his words.

you drove for thirty minutes before the car pulled up somewhere. the world is tranquil outside, so you couldn’t have driven to the nearest city. your initial guess is a beach, but there were no splashes of water. maybe a cliff-side or a forest?

the car’s ignition turns off and you call out to the twins.

“‘tsumu? ‘samu? where are we? can i take my blindfold off now?”

“just a moment, doll.” there’s an excited lilt to atsumu’s voice and you can’t help but fidget in your seat, feeling the excitement crawling up your spine as you think of what their surprise could be.

you hear them clamber out the car. you scoot closer to the door just as the backseat opens, a silly smile on your face. “you guys didn’t have to do this, you know, but i appreciate it so mu—”

someone tackles you to the seat and the air gets knocked out of your lungs. he’s heavy and you felt the muscles underneath his shirt as you tried to push him away but to no avail—you know it’s a man, it has to be because you felt the broad shoulders and something poking at your thigh. you feel him nosing the side of your neck and his hands crawling under your shirt. his freezing skin against your own is what snapped you out of it.

“atsumu! osamu!” you cried, calling for help.

you inwardly gasped, realizing something. maybe they were hurt! maybe your assaulter had creeped up behind the twins just as they opened the door for you, knocked them out cold, before trying to have their way with you. at the thought of the twins getting hurt, you thrashed, fought, and screamed with newfound fervor.

“couldja calm down and shut yer fucking trap?”

when the blindfold flies away and you see the man straddling you on the backseat of atsumu’s car, how you wished your assaulter had never taken it off.

atsumu had never looked this scary from your point of view, then again he never straddled you like this in the weeks prior. never looked at you like how he’s looking now—there’s clear hunger and lust in those eyes. you’ve seen that look one too many times from boys back in your university when you had your one night stands. but it had all been consensual and you loved them looking at you that way but this is different.

so, so different.

you can’t look at him in the eye, not when he’s staring at you like that. it felt like you’re pushed into a corner, vulnerable and bare even with the clothes you’re wearing.

“please, get off of me.”

“get off ya?” he repeats, mirth in his eyes as he hauls you up to a sitting position. he finally shuts the door behind him. “but i’ve been wantin’ to do this for weeks.”

to further emphasize his point, he grounds his hips against yours, making sure the tip of his already erect cock grazes against the bud of your clit. his boxers and the thin fabric of your shorts isn’t helping. he groans wantonly, angling his hips to do it again until you slipped out from under him and maneuvered your way to the other door.

osamu! osamu will stop him, you thought with teary eyes as atsumu growls and quickly pulls you back by the forearms, your back to his chest as you try to claw your way out of the athlete’s grip.

“‘samu! ‘samu, help me!”

but when the said twin opens the door and slips inside the car with little to no surprise present in his face, a type of fear you’ve never felt before runs up your spine. the look in osamu’s eyes reflected that of his twin’s and with sinking realization, you knew he wasn’t there to help you.

“happy 21st birthday, angel.”

and then he’s ducking down to kiss you. his lips are soft and they moved tenderly, in contrast to the barbaric way they tore at your clothes, the cold making you shiver in your underwear.

dealing with one sick person is enough, but with two, you’re not so sure. you only had two hands, if you pushed osamu away, atsumu would have free access and vice versa. your legs couldn’t move either, thanks to the cramped space of the backseat.

while holding down your hands, atsumu marks every inch of untainted skin he could see as osamu swirls his tongue inside your mouth. you’ve never felt so disgusted and dirty, but above all, betrayed. even if it was a few weeks since you’ve met, you still saw them as family. sure, you weren’t technically blood-related but in the papers it’s a different story.

when osamu pulled away, you averted your eyes but his hand reached up to hold your chin, forcing your eyes to meet. you feel his other hand trailing up your thighs, fingers dangerously close to your clothed sex as he watched you like a fox. he wanted to commit this moment to memory. every twitch and small gasp you make as his cold fingers pinched at your clit and traced your pussy lips.

“staying quiet, princess?” atsumu comments, hands snaking around front to squeeze and grope your breasts over the bra you wore. “ya weren’t like this when i caught ya touchin’ yerself last week.”

your eyes widened. when you tried turning your head to look over your shoulder towards the other twin, osamu shoved two fingers inside you.

your reaction was immediate. the pleasure and pain mixing as a loud gasp escapes your lips. “eyes up front,” he murmurs, the firm hold on your chin going higher to encase your whole jaw.

“oi, ‘samu, didn’t think you’re the possessive type,” atsumu says, teasingly placing his chin on your shoulder as he smiles that lazy smile you know osamu hates. “not that i’m going to lose.”

the older twin slips your bra off just as osamu takes his fingers out to lewdly lick up your slick. he moans, keeping his eyes trained on your horrified face. “sweet. but not wet enough for us, angel.”

“what—no—!”

“let me have a go.”

before you could even react, atsumu’s spinning you around to face him as he shoves your shoulders down. due to the cramped space, your head collides with osamu’s thighs, narrowly missing the tent in his joggers. the weight in his thighs makes the younger twin fidget and squirm as he hastily reaches for your hand, pulling his bottoms down just enough for his cock to spring out. you wince when it hits the side of your face. osamu loved the disgust in your face when he spat at your hand and used it to get himself off as he started stroking his cock.

meanwhile, in one swift motion, atsumu is pulling your panties down and licking a stripe up your cunny, the tip of his tongue prodding at your clit as his hands come up to slap your pussy. “how dare ya be so quiet,” he hisses, sucking harsher on your clit to pull a reaction out of you. “let me hear ya whine and moan, babe. i’m fuckin’ sure as hell my tongue is better than some cheap ass vibrator ya used.”

but your lips are stubbornly sealed as you arched your back. like hell you’d play into their wants and sick fantasies. they were your cousins! forcing you to enjoy this is just downright wrong. and knowing they’ve eavesdropped and silently lusted over you while having those innocent little smiles on their faces… were they not in the least bit guilty for deceiving you? deceiving your parents?

“give ‘er somethin’ bigger. i think she’s askin’ for it.” osamu says, kneading one of your breasts and tweaking your nipples as he continued to pump himself using your hand.

because he lost to rock paper scissors, he’s going to fuck you after atsumu and no matter how furious he was, a deal’s a deal.

like an idea switching inside his head, atsumu falters, staring right at you with sparkles in his eyes before his lips curled into a devious smirk.

“no, no, no,” you scramble, trying to sit up in order to push him away but osamu is quick to pin you down. “atsumu—no—you don’t want to do this, please—!”

“shut it, princess. i know what i want and that’s to fuck yer sweet little cunny right ‘ere,” he mocks by planting a sweet kiss against your lower lips.

“can ya stop with the dirty talk my dick’ll go soft, ya scrub!” osamu hisses, his hands wrapped around yours getting tighter as the lewd sounds of his slick gets louder.

no matter how much osamu denies it, he’s getting off on seeing you squirming under atsumu and god he never thought to have a voyeurism kink but here we are.

atsumu shoves his boxers down and you turn away from glancing down at his cock, osamu had to ruthlessly pull your hair and make you look as you slowly start tearing up. he was bigger than most guys you’ve met in college and you dread the painful stretch it’ll take for him to shove that dick inside you.

“shh, princess. don’tcha worry, yer all prepped to take me.” he scissors your pussy lips, the sticky wetness creating lewd sounds before pushing his stained fingers into your mouth. “hear that? go on and taste yerself.”

he gave you no choice, fingers pushing your tongue down until you obliged to his wishes. from behind you, you hear a low grunt and a pant as osamu throws his head back. he was close, you could tell and you surely didn’t want your face to be near his cock once he cums.

“‘tsumu, god damn it! hurry and fuck ‘er already!”

osamu was close and his mind was clouded. he needed to see you get railed in order for him to teeter towards that delicious edge of pure ecstasy. needed to hear the noises like the ones you made that night.

“i got it, i got it. fuckin’ impatient bastard.”

“atsumu, stop—!”

but he doesn't bother to listen, pushing his cock deep all in a single thrust. you were right. the stretch slightly stings and you bet it would’ve hurt more had he not bothered to suck and lick at your pussy earlier. “it hurts,” you sob, trying to curl in on yourself while keeping atsumu from leaning in.

but your strength is no match for him as he peppers light kisses down your neck, osamu helping with pushing your hair away to expose more skin. “shh, shh,” the faux-blond coos. “it’ll get better, i promise ya. yer gonna love it so let me move, okay?”

“no, wait, take it out, wai—!”

he starts thrusting, timed and rhythmic as his hands reach under your thighs, slightly raising your lower body to meet the angle of his hips. you couldn’t deny that it felt good like he said. the heavenly drag of his dick inside your walls, feeling you squeeze around him just as he nearly pulls out, only to thrust it all back in again. he wanted to keep this “making love” pace as long as he wants but he’s getting irritated but how you still wanted to keep your pretty lips shut.

that’s when you truly felt the vehicle jolting back and forth, brought by the sudden way atsumu manically fucks you like some animal. the change of pace surprised you greatly, choking on your saliva and letting out a pornographic “ah!” as he started railing you in the backseat of his car. you were way past the point of no return as immense pleasure spiked your nerves. all thoughts of somehow fighting their advances being shot out the window.

“that’s it,” atsumu pants, swinging your legs up against your chest to fuck you even deeper. “come on, make some noise, princess. i want people to hear how good i make ya feel even if they’re miles away.”

after all this is over and the lustful haze they forced you under is gone, you’ll regret the way you moaned and groaned and whined like how you’re doing now. embarrassing, how even as atsumu leans closer to kiss you, you don’t push him away. a mess of saliva and sweat mixing as his pace doesn’t relent and the fierce jolts of the car only adds up to your pleasure.

“‘tsumu!” you screamed, one hand holding onto his hair and the other scratching at his back. “i’m close—shit!”

he replies with a moan of his own, drawn out and whiny, feeling your walls suffocating his cock as he continues to drive it in and out with a speed you’ve never experienced with your past rendezvous. perks of being an athlete, you guess. “don’tcha dare fuckin’ cum until i tell ya to or else.”

but that little devil is making it harder for you to obey him as one of his hands snakes in between your bodies to start toying with your clit, drawing firm circles and figure 8’s to draw in that eventual release. “no, no, ‘tsumu don’t!” you tried reaching down but his hand only tugs it back, firmly holding your wrist as he continues his ministrations.

it’s too much. you were feeling it all too much and in the heat of the moment, you forgot everything else—you arch your back and felt your climax crashing over you as your cum steadily makes a mess off the backseat with every thrust atsumu made.

he stops.

his head hangs low, looking at the view of your interconnected bodies before scoffing in disbelief. menacingly, he raises his head to make eye contact with you. “didn’t i fuckin’ tell ya to cum only if i tell ya to cum?”

the faux-blond grabs at your hair, ruthlessly tilting it back as you feel a sticky sensation running down your nether lips. you shake your head, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“but—!”

“i don’t care. i warned ya, didn’t i? so don’t fuckin’ hate me after all this is over.”

suddenly you feel your fight surging through you again like a tidal wave. this is wrong. how dare they do it even after you said no. how dare they do it and make you enjoy it?

“aw, cute. angel’s still got some fight in ‘er left.”

you thrashed against atsumu as soon as he swiftly pulls out of you. he doesn’t even break a sweat while restraining you with his bare hands.

“let me go! you fuckers! i’ll tell—”

“tell who? our parents? this isn’t elementary school, princess. ya get what ya fuckin’ deserve and it’s not our fault ya like swingin’ that pretty ass so much.”

you growl as a retort, attempting to bite atsumu’s hand off as he swiftly spins you around to lay on your stomach. you cringe, feeling your sticky essence against your skin. you didn't have time to feel humiliated, not as you came face to face with osamu’s still erect and angry dick.

you weren’t dumb, you knew why the faux-blond made you face his twins’ way—this is to be your punishment, he said, all the while feeling him scramble about behind you. it wasn’t only ‘til you feel atsumu’s tip prodding at your ass did you realize what’s going to happen.

“go on and give our ‘samu a nice suck, yeah? put on a show and if ya dare use yer teeth, i’ll personally make sure ya regret ever coming to hyōgo.”

you came back at dawn, during the sunrise. it’s glow basking the whole house in a nice orange tint. “what are you guys doing up so early?” your mom asks when she sees the three of you piling in from the front door.

she was too busy rubbing the sleep out of her eyes that she missed everything—the way osamu’s oppressive arm wrapped around your shoulder got tighter, the way atsumu gave you a nasty side eye, and especially the fearful expression on your face.

“no - nothing, mom. they just wanted to have a birthday countdown for me.”

“oh, right! happy 21st, sweetheart.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere hq #yandere atsumu #yandere osamu #yandere miya atsumu #yandere miya osamu #toxichours #(❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) mine ༉‧#yandere atsumu x reader #yandere osamu x reader #yandere miya osamu x reader #yandere miya atsumu x reader #tw yandere #tw noncon #tw exhibitionism #tw:incest #tw voyeurism

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moon-lixie · 3 years ago

Text

about a letter left to be found and a boy who disappeared into thin air.

word count: 2.046k

genre: slight angst

song: 말할 수 없는 비밀 (Secret Secret) - Stray Kids

I don't think any of you would be able to understand, not even if I sit down and speak all of my truths. Still, I think I owe an explanation.

With trembling hands he gathered his things, the notebooks filled with dreams spilling from the edges of every page, his favourite hoodies, the pair of bright red headphones he had since the beginning of high school.

From the open window a cold breeze came in and ruffled the slightly damp hair of the boy, paying special attention to the ends that were still clamped together due to the dampness.

He wasn't exactly in a hurry, but he still felt nervous and anxious, because even if it was almost impossible, at the back of his mind he was haunted by the idea of someone coming in and stopping him.

Moving quickly he reached down for the towel hanging around his shoulders and ruffled his hair a couple of times more until he felt satisfied.

First of all, I have no idea where I am going but know that I'm fine.

A loud sigh caressed his lips as it escaped, filling the room that he had always called his own, his little world nobody could disrupt because in between the forgotten comics and the piles of clothes sprawled here and there he had felt more at home than he has ever felt anywhere else.

Throwing the towel to the basket of dirty laundry at the end of the hallway, he finally finished everything he had to do, simply being left with staring at himself in the mirror and fixing the wild strands of hair that had been upset by the freshly washed hoodie hugging his torso.

He could barely muster a smile at his reflection, not because he was sad, but because it all felt surreal in a sense that left him wondering if it was still the middle of the night many years ago and the last years had been nothing but the hopeful dreams of his younger self.

Maybe it's a bit selfish of me to simply leave without a warning, but please understand that I want much more than this place could ever offer me.

He closed the front door of his house, locking it with the pair of keys his mother had given him once he turned twelve; they were still held together by the Pororo keychain he had bought one day after school with such an overwhelming excitement that made the memory pull at the corners of his lips.

It felt bizarre to walk away from the entrance of his home knowing that he was never really going to come back, that this was the last time.

Just like the very first time he had arrived there along with a moving truck packed with boxes and furniture, he felt breath leave his lungs at the sight of the white façade. It made him stop for a second and contemplate in utter silence.

Goosebumps coated the length of his arms once he turned around and kept moving forward at a steady pace, leaving his old bike behind as well.

Know that the decision to leave wasn't made in a haste, I've been thinking about it for long and now just seemed like the perfect time.

Mr. Kim lazily waved in his direction, gentle smile and downturned eyes with the familiar brown that reminded Jisung of his grandfather; maybe that's where he would go next, to visit his grandfather.

Without much thought he returned the sweet and familiar greeting, feeling a bit nostalgic when he thought back to all the summers that he had spent working with the man in his garden.

Back then a young Jisung had been happy to make a few bucks while getting to stay out all day in the yard playing with bugs and with the sun kissing the skin of his chubby cheeks and legs that weren't covered by his favourite pair of green shorts.

He couldn't help but wonder where had all that time run to because despite being the one who lived through it, he could barely make sense or when had he ended up where he was.

Time moved too fast and without a warning, it left everyone wondering.

It isn't easy to leave my whole life behind but it feels right, the mere idea makes me feel lighter because who knows who I'll get to be when I get to the end of my journey.

Perhaps I'll be braver, a little bit smarter, more mature, maybe even a couple of centimetres taller.

He could walk the streets with his eyes closed and still know where every bump and crack was in the sidewalk, he could still point where his old school was, where the closest convenience store stepped in his way and as usual tempted him to buy a snack even on those days were his pockets were empty and his tummy full.

From there he knew his way to everywhere else in town, he even knew how long it would take him to get to said places on foot or with his trusty bike.

It all felt too easy and familiar, too comfortable, and those things weren't bad at all but Jisung thought he had had enough of them. He craved discovering himself inside the walls of another place so foreign that every single one of his truths were only known by himself.

Was it silly? That he thought a change of scenery would make him a new person, one much more alike to who he truly was.

Sometimes talking to someone isn't enough, because you don't think they'll understand, you know they won't. That's why I never said anything about the deepest desires looming in my heart or the biggest fears that tied me down for as long as I can remember.

All the interrogations running leaps around his mind made him walk faster, filling him with the same dreadful excitement he felt every first day of school, one that mixed with nervousness and fear.

He wasn't sure if starting fresh would let him be someone whose fears didn't weigh upon his heart so harshly, he wasn't sure if he would get to be the person he had always wished he could be but he could only hope.

Hope had been what drove him this far and today he was giving it full control of where his feet moved to, control over how his next day would look like or where he would wake up the next day.

Never in his life had he felt more ready to wander around by himself.

But I guess, since I'm going, it's only fair that I try to sit down and talk to someone, hoping that they will understand even if my words are scarce and there will be nobody to talk back to at the end of this letter.

On the horizon the sun rushed to slumber, leaving a comforting lilac pooling around the clouds and making them stand out even more.

Night hovered over his shoulders making him breathe with much more ease because if there was something that portrayed hope and tomorrow with an uncanny resemblance and lack of effort, it was the night sky with its endless stars and its shining moon.

In his childhood days he had discovered that there was no better cure for uncertainty and a nostalgic heart than staring up at the night sky; there was something about it that made him feel like time stopped for an instance, that time wasn't quite as unforgiving while the veil of darkness covered everything.

If he could go anywhere he wanted —which he was already doing— he would wish to go to the sky, not the endless and uncertain space, but the idea of the sky that humans have in their ignorance, a canvas that goes no further than our eyes can see.

Ever since I can remember I've felt like there was a place for me somewhere out there, a place I always called home without knowing what it really was.

It wasn't like I didn't feel at home here, there was just a feeling in my chest that told me out there I could feel completely free in the way I've always craved.

For him it had always felt unfair, how everyone got to live and walk around without the things that kept him back. Of course when he grew older he understood that everyone had their own problems but sometimes that was easy to ignore when one's own darkness loomed around their heart.

He had spent many years wishing, praying to whoever was listening, that he could just be himself without the voices in his head and the uncertainties that made every single one of his steps be cautious.

Nobody seemed to have listened as years went by and things got harder, still, he never gave up and even though he could never really say that there was nothing else bothering him he could at least say that he had everything under control.

If time is unforgiving it also is healing, and for him it had healed many wounds that couldn't be seen.

Unknowingly I spent a lot of time wanting to go to that place, craving to find where it was.

Some years ago I understood that it perhaps wasn't a place but a version of myself that could bring such soothing feelings. That's where I'm going to, that's why I have no destination.

He wanted to believe that nothing had been planned, that his savings carefully stuffed at the bottom of his backpack had just been him being responsible about his money and having enough for the impulsiveness that one day had won over reason and had driven him to this adventure.

He wanted to pretend but it was stupid to do now, there was nobody around to judge him or question his motives, so there was no use in not being honest with himself.

Thinking back to all those evenings spent running around the small restaurant in which he had found a job, he could see that perhaps this plan had been many years in the making.

Unconsciously he had always been hoping for a moment like this, a moment of unadulterated freedom.

Hopefully I do get there, hopefully I get to be happy and everyone I left behind does too.

The journey to happiness, to authenticity, to being unapologetically himself, had taken him to the airport, another thing that wasn't as spontaneous as he had tried to make it seem.

Passport in hand and trembling self, the whiteness of the place and the various people walking back and forth made him realise that this was really going on, he was really leaving.

For the first time in his life overthinking had no place in his plans.

I wish to be who I am meant to and disappearing was perhaps the thing I had always been destined to do. A boy who disappeared into thin air, that's who I am, a boy with secrets that weigh down on my heart and that I'm unwilling to carry with me on this journey.

Approaching the desk he was met with a young woman, in her mid twenties or early thirties, sweet but practised smile covering her lips as she recited the words that he must've learned a long time ago when she first started working there.

"I want a ticket for the next flight available," Jisung said, offering a reassuring smile after the confused look the woman gave him.

He looked around as the sounds of typing filled his ears and before he had time to start regretting something the ticket had been placed on his palm and his savings were short by a considerable amount.

I'm afraid that wasn't much of an explanation but it was my truth.

Good luck and see you whenever we're meant to cross paths.

The last thing he saw before falling asleep were the clouds from above and the sky now completely dark like the many nights he had wondered where he belonged.

Now he had an answer, he belonged wherever he felt free and right then in that comfortable plane seat he felt the freest he had ever been.

#kpop #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz angst #skz comfort #skz han #skz jisung #stray kids han #stray kids jisung #han angst

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years ago

Note

I just reached the bottom of your writings and felt the need to say that i appreciate you. You’re really cool and im happy I stumbled upon you.

You are far far too sweet. This has been sat in my inbox for so long because I don't think anyone has called me cool before and I wanted to bask in that. I really appreciate you too and I'm really happy you stumbled upon my blog. So I hope you're still in the fandom and enjoy this little bit of odd zombie AU.

CW: Zombies, apocalypse, Resdent Evil/Last of Us inspired AU.

Last Hope

Nobody expected the Continent to turn to shit. War had been on the horizon, Nilfgaard was advancing but not once did anyone expect them to have been experimenting with creating superior soldiers to fight for them. Allegedly the idea had been to harvest some of the Continent's monsters' attributes and imbue them into soldiers, creating a new class of warriors. It hadn't worked. But what Nilfgaard did manage to create was a virus like no other before. It turned humans and animals into mindless, violent creatures whose sole purpose was to feed, preferably on human flesh. The virus spread like no other, bringing the whole Continent to its knees.

Pockets of survivors remained, walled up in thick stone keeps. Kaer Morhen was one such sanctuary. Witchers, it turned out, weren't immune to the virus. Letho had watched Serrit and Auckes succumb to it, had put them down before setting light to where they'd been trying to stay safe and he set off to find somewhere, anywhere, that would accept him. The cold didn't impact much on the undead, they still moved just as deadly fast, unencumbered by things like fatigue, hunger or frostbite. Still, he made it up to the keep and was welcomed in. It was probably the most full Kaer Morhen had been in a long time. There were witchers, sorceresses, humans, dwarves, vampires and who knew what else, all coexisting and trying to make the best of their lives.

"I heard rumours," Letho said over dinner. "There's someone immune to this whole wretched thing down South."

"And I heard a rumour that taking a shit over the parapets cures piles," Lambert shot back with a snort. Being cooped up with so many people didn't exactly suit him, even when Aiden was there along with Eskel too.

Yennefer sat up straighter. "I've heard that rumour too. Sent word out that if it's true, we're probably best placed to try and find what makes the person so special. Maybe derive a cure from them."

Not long after, Gaetan arrived with Guxart. And with some news.

"There's a man and a girl travelling North. Allegedly with the hope of a cure."

The others exchanged looks, not wanting to believe rumours. Hope was a dangerous thing, but they could all use a dose of it. Things had been bleak to say the least.

Guxart picked up the story. "There's a lot of people gunning for them. So far they've evaded being captured, left quite a bloody trail too. We saw what remained of a tavern. Allegedly the group living there had been luring in weary travellers with the promise of safety, only to throw them into a fighting ring." Unfortunately such stories weren't unusual, humans had the most disdainful ideas of entertainment at times. Guxart pressed on, "If it was those two then I hope they're not headed here. They left no survivors, cleared out the place of humans and undead alike. It was a massacre."

There was nothing to do but wait. A week passed, then another. The hope they'd felt at the mention of a possible path to a cure dwindled and turned into bitter disappointment at the backs of their minds. It was almost three weeks later that there was a commotion on the path to the old keep. The undead who lurked in the trees were snarling and howling as two figures broke into a sprint on the last stretch of the path, pursued by quite a hoard of hungry zombies.

"Get the gate!" Vesemir bellowed and it was a mad dash to open the gates while armed. They weren't quick enough and a scuffle broke out as the two travellers were up against the gates, the undead descending upon them. A sharp scream went up from what sounded like a young girl. The gate opened and Eskel reached out, pulling her in first before Lambert gruffly yanked her protector in too. The others pushed to slam the gates shut, bolting it once more.

"Cahir! Are you okay?" The girl ignored them all in favour of checking over her guardian, wisps of blonde hair sticking to her sweaty face.

"I'm fine." A gruff answer and the so called Cahir looked up at them with an exhausted, hollow gaze. "This is Kaer Morhen, right? We were told this is where we had to come. She's Ciri, I'm Cahir."

Vesemir stepped forward with a brisk nod. "Welcome. Let's get you settled. From what I hear, you had quite the journey."

Yennefer ushered Ciri away and the others trailed after her, curious to see what someone immune to the virus looked like, acted like. The left Eskel to lead Cahir to a room of his own.

"Nilfgaard's quite a way," he said by way of conversation, ignoring the way Cahir rubbed his wrist under his cloak.

"Vicovaro is even further." The answer was a little prim and offended. "I'm not Nilfgaardian."

"My apologies. If you want to clean up, we have a communal bath in the lower levels. You're welcome to join us."

The offer seemed to go ignored as Cahir simply flopped on the bed and closed his eyes without even kicking off his worn boots. Eskel couldn't begrudge him, such a journey was long and tiring even before the world went to shit. To then have to cross the Continent while chased by who knew how many people wanting his precious charge and the unending masses of undead no doubt made the whole thing exhausting.

Dinner was bubbling away in a large cauldron over a fire and the chores for the day were done. It was quite common for most of the residents of Kaer Morhen to settle in the baths, one of the few remaining luxuries left for them. To everyone's surprise Cahir bumbled in a little while later, still sleep rumpled but without his cloak. It left his ragged and torn shirt in full view, including where one sleeve had been ripped off at the elbow. On his lower arm was a freshly applied bandage with blood that had seeped through in an all too telling pattern. Cries of alarm went up as they spotted the bite.

"You've been bitten!"

"How could you endanger us like this?"

"You idiot!"

It was a cacophony as various witchers jumped out of the baths, reaching for their swords and heedless of their nudity. There was a very real danger in their midst that needed to be taken care of. Cahir held up his hands in a placating manner, surrendering without a fight.

"If I may?" He pulled his shirt over his head and the others tried to make sense of what they were seeing. His body was littered with scars from bites. Some were healed, others still scabbed over. When the trousers slid down, Cahir's legs were no different.

"What the-?" Lambert scowled.

It was the exact moment Yennefer arrived, Ciri in tow. She gave Cahir a once over. "It would seem we made some assumptions. Cahir, when you're rested and fed, I'd like to take a sample of your blood and hair please."

Next to her, Ciri giggled and tucked a strand of hair out of her face. She walked up to Cahir and took his bandaged arm in hand, inspecting his handiwork.

"You're getting better at this," she announced. "Hopefully it's the last one you've taken for me or anyone else though."

Her words were followed by an eerie silence in the baths as the others mulled over everything.

"So-" Eskel rubbed the back of his neck with a small frown, "-is Ciri your daughter?"

A bright laugh bubbled out of Ciri at that. "If only I was so lucky. I was his escort and bodyguard. Our pursuers often assumed that me being so young looking meant I was the immune one and Cahir was protecting me. That deception worked well for us."

Guxart cleared his throat. "We saw a tavern that was a fighting ring."

Both Ciri's and Cahir's faces darkened at that. It was Cahir who answered.

"We survived. But barely." His hand rubbed over his shoulder where a large chunk had been torn out, leaving a visible dent. "Had to lay low and recover for a while after that. Ciri injured her throat."

"And you got a bitch of a fever. You're the worst patient ever, always fidgeting and poking. It's a miracle only that bite got infected so bad."

Cahir stuck his tongue out at Ciri and she poked him in the stomach. In turn Cahir ruffled her hair and danced away. Taking it as a challenge, she dashed after him and gave him a shove that sent him flying, landing with a big splash in one of the baths. Spluttering and laughing, he surfaced.

"Oh you little bitch!" He playfully splashed water in her direction but Ciri let out a scream and the water froze mid arc before dropping into a sad little puddle on the ground.

The others stared at her in awe and horror. She grinned at them with a shrug. "You didn't really think they'd send some random, helpless girl as a bodyguard, did you?"

A hand landed on Ciri's shoulder as Yennefer smiled down at her. "You and I have a lot to discuss. How would you feel about learning how to control your powers even better?"

For the first time since the news that there might be a solution to the virus, hope trickled back into the lives of the residents of Kaer Morhen. It wasn't going to be an overnight solution, they knew it wasn't going to be easy. But they were one small step closer to a safer, happier life and that was more than enough for them after years of despair.

#geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #cirilla fiona elen riannon #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #the witcher #letho of gulet #gaetan #guxart #vesemir #lambert #eskel #zombie apocalype au #tldr: ciri and cahir arrive at kaer morhen as the immune one and the bodyguard

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when-they-write-stuff · 4 years ago

Text

SterekWeek2020: Day Seven (Halloween)

(so late, but finally here!)

Derek was acting strange.

And yeah, Stiles supposed he really shouldn’t be that surprised. Derek was always acting strange in some way or another, it seemed like. For a man who had basically built his reputation on the idea that he was this big scary werewolf, Derek Hale had shown himself to be a lot more complex than that.

But the point was, Derek Hale was acting strange. And Stiles didn’t know why.

It started with the little things. Things like Derek vanishing out of nowhere and coming back to the loft much later in ruffled clothes and a pleased expression on his face. Stiles had asked the betas on multiple occasions what the hell was happening, but none of them ever seemed to know.

Or really care, for that matter. Erica would shrug and drag Boyd off to her room for some ‘alone’ time and Isaac would proceed to wrap himself in blankets and hog the TV, the volume up much too loud to cover up what Stiles could only assume were sounds he was glad he didn’t have the enhancements to hear.

Sometimes, there were perks to being human.

Derek always came back, of course. The first time he’d vanished, Stiles had been over helping Isaac with his homework— something Scott had roped them into. It had started as a pack study group, except then the young Alpha had gotten back together with Allison and spent more time at her house than at the loft anymore.

It didn’t help that Isaac needed the help, too. And Stiles would like to say that he had a heart of gold, thank you very much, and was kind enough to never abandon the beta.

Also, he got to hang around Derek— er, the other betas. At the loft. Nothing else.

The one downside was Peter.

When Stiles had asked him about Derek’s mysterious getaways, Peter had only smirked over the top of his book. And Stiles knew the asshole knew exactly where Derek kept going, but he was very conveniently keeping that information to himself.

Which made Stiles feel a little less bad when he spent time at the loft pretending Peter didn’t exist.

The first time Derek had vanished out of nowhere, Stiles had waited until the man came back. And Derek had come through the loft door hours later, shirtless and in ripped pants, looking like he’d gotten into a fight with a mountain lion and lost. But when Stiles had bombarded him with questions, refusing to leave until he got some sort of answer, Derek had just shrugged and locked himself in his room, leaving Stiles alone in the silent loft.

He’d tried to get Derek to talk since, he really had. Stiles had even attempted to follow the man once, but he’d only made it to the preserve before he lost Derek among the trees.

It was probably werewolf stuff, Scott had said. He didn’t seem very intrigued that Derek was living a secret second life, but Stiles supposed he hadn’t expected the boy to be. He just wanted someone to be as curious as he was and the betas were a bust, Scott was too obsessed with Allison, and when Stiles had tried to bring it up with Lydia, she’d proceeded to turn around and walk away.

It was Derek’s business, she’d said. Which… yeah. But still. Stiles was confused.

Months ended up passing since that very first day. Derek continued to act strange on certain days and go on mini-vacations, and Stiles continued to be utterly lost. It wasn’t until he’d nearly given up that things finally changed.

It was Halloween night when Stiles finally figured out Derek’s little secret.

He knew the betas planned to go around town in their beta forms, scaring the crap out of little kids, but Stiles had already decided he wasn’t going with them. Because when someone inevitably called the cops and Stiles’s dad showed up, he was not going to be the betas scapegoat.

No, Stiles planned on hanging out at the loft with the others to watch scary movies. Derek had been a little stubborn when Lydia first volunteered his place to meet up, but the man had eventually given in. Even Derek Hale knew better than to argue with Lydia Martin.

And Stiles totally wasn't looking forward to spending time at Derek’s loft. Totally not at all.

He might’ve been a little.

Except Derek wasn’t at the loft when Stiles arrived.

“Okay,” Stiles said, coming back into the main room after doing a thorough search of the loft. “Where the hell is our mighty Alpha?”

“Why does it matter?” Scott asked, looking confused. He was curled up on the couch with Allison, and she didn’t look too worried either. From where she sat in the other chair, Lydia didn’t even glance up from her phone.

“He’s gone,” Stiles said. “Again. Doesn’t that ever strike any of you as strange?”

“Not really,” Scott said. Allison shrugged.

“Maybe he's out doing something.”

“Like?”

She glanced at Scott, who shook his head. “Keeping an eye on the betas?”

“Derek doesn’t babysit the betas,” Stiles said, running a hand through his hair. “I’m pretty sure he’d sooner eat his own hand.”

“Gross, Stiles,” Lydia said, making a face. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You know it’s true. He’s gone again. On Halloween night. What the hell is more important than scary movies and candy on Halloween night?”

“Why do you care so much?” Lydia said, a familiar glint in her green eyes. It was that knowing look she’d gotten the first time Stiles had complained about Derek’s antics. Glaring at her, Stiles fished out his keys and started toward the loft door, grabbing his hoodie from the back of the nearest chair.

“I don’t,” he said. “But the asshole is being weird and I’m going to go figure out what he’s doing.”

“Oh, come on, Stiles,” Scott called. “You’re going to miss the movie!”

“There’s plenty of time to watch scary movies tonight,” Stiles said, waving a hand over his shoulder. “I’ll be back.”

Stiles was pretty sure Scott started to say something else, but he didn’t stick around to listen.

And yeah, maybe Derek’s business was Derek’s business or whatever. But Stiles was pretty damn curious and he’d had enough. The man was hiding something from them and for some reason, nobody else seemed to care.

What if he was in trouble? Secretly dying? Had an embarrassing hobby that Stiles totally wanted to know about?

The possibilities were endless.

He wasn’t exactly sure where to go looking for the man. The preserve was usually Derek’s go-to when Stiles attempted to follow him, but that never ended well. One time, he’d ditched the Camaro on the side of the road and literally disappeared— and Stiles hadn’t even known what to think about that.

Maybe Derek was also part ghost. A werewolf alpha ghost.

Okay, maybe not.

Stiles ended up deciding to do a quick drive of the town. Because if Derek really was being a ‘disproving Alpha’ to the betas, then he might as well find out before wasting his night looking for one grumpy-growly werewolf. And maybe he could get to see Derek chew them out too.

That was always amusing.

There were already tons of people out, even though it wasn’t that dark yet. Stiles wasn’t really sure where the betas would go, but he may or may not have put a tracker into Isaac’s phone the first time Isaac let him borrow it.

It wasn’t like he didn’t trust the boy or anything, but Derek’s betas always seemed to be getting themselves in trouble. And Stiles knew there was no way he was ever getting his hands on the phones of the other two.

He’d put a tracker in Derek’s too, if he could only figure out what the man’s freaking password was. It wasn’t like Derek was good at technology but damn, if the man didn’t know how to keep unwanted visitors out of his phone.

Isaac’s phone placed him all the way across town. In one of Beacon Hills larger neighborhoods, probably scaring the crap out of innocent little kids, if Stiles was right.

He was.

He caught sight of the betas almost immediately— and quickly ducked down. Because Stiles hadn’t gone with them for a reason, remember? And that reason was looking at him right in the face in the form of flashing police lights and Stiles’s dad looking disappointed, giving the betas the chewing-out that Stiles had kind of hoped to see Derek giving.

The grumpy Alpha, on the other hand, was nowhere in sight. Stiles did spot a small group of trick-or-treaters and their parents watching, though.

And a giant black dog, standing a little ways away from the flashing lights.

Stiles tilted his head, watching the dog curiously. He couldn’t make out a collar, but it seemed well-behaved enough, sitting on someone's lawn and watching the betas get lectured. It almost looked… interested. In a scarily human way.

Suddenly, dark amber eyes were locked on his own and then the dog was watching him.

Stiles jerked, hitting his elbow on the steering wheel with a curse. And when he looked back, rubbing at his funny bone, the dog was gone.

As if it had never been there.

Stiles stared for another long moment before shaking his head, wondering faintly if he was going crazy.

He drove off before he could get caught by one of the betas or worse, his dad, determined to have nothing to do with them being idiots. At this point, it was much darker, and Stiles figured he was never going to find Derek unless the man wanted to be found.

Which clearly, he didn’t.

So Stiles headed home, deciding to grab a few of his favorite horror movies before heading back to the loft. He’d probably already missed the first one, but that wasn’t a big loss. Scott had brought it and the boy had terrible taste in movies.

He still hadn’t seen Star Wars yet.

Stiles hadn’t spent Halloween at home since his mom’s death. Before, they used to decorate the house and hand out candy, but things changed when she passed. And Stiles wasn’t a little kid anymore. His dad worked Halloween night anyway, and Stiles hated to be alone in the silence, so he usually ended up going to the McCall’s instead of hanging out alone.

Or, that’s what he’d done before the pack. Before he had other people to spend the holidays with.

Stiles would never admit out loud how much he kind of loved it.

Which brought him back to his sour mood and the fact that Derek wasn’t around tonight. Stiles didn’t think he’d be so offended if the man would just tell one of them what he was doing. It wasn’t like he was worried about the asshole or whatever, but… it’d be nice to know.

That’s all it was.

Stiles grabbed a few movies, a bag of chips (because Derek never had any good snacks around), and headed back out into the night to see a large black dog sitting on his lawn.

The large black dog.

Stiles froze, movies in one hand and the bag of chips in the other. For a moment, he didn’t move and the dog didn’t either, looking at him with those eerily knowing eyes.

“Uh,” Stiles finally said, taking a nervous step back. “Hey, there, doggie?”

The dog growled. And if Stiles was being honest, it looked a lot more like a wolf than a dog, big enough to probably rip out his throat with ease.

Stiles suddenly froze, staring.

A grumpy-growly wolf-dog. Following him and the betas around, all while Derek was on the loose who-knew-where...

“No freaking way,” Stiles breathed. “Sourwolf?”

Either he was losing his mind and talking to stray wolf-dogs, or Derek was sitting right in front of him. Not ripping his throat out, which Stiles supposed he should be grateful for, but was this really the secret the man had been keeping for months?

“Oh my god, dude, you go furry now?”

The dog snarled, stalking forward. Stiles squeaked, dropping both the movie and bag of chips. He stumbled back, ramming against the door, and fumbled blindly for the doorknob. Except, before he could yank it open and maybe spend the rest of the night hiding from an angry wolf-dog-thing, it was getting larger, less furry, and suddenly Derek Hale was standing in front of him.

Stiles yelped, clapping his hands over his eyes and turning his face away.

“Dude, genitals!”

Yeah, that sentence actually left his mouth.

And it wasn’t like Stiles had never imagined seeing Derek naked before, but if he had, it would not be in a situation like this. Stiles was far too shocked to remove his hands for a moment, but he was pretty sure that a grown man standing naked on his front porch was going to get the cops called and— and his dad could not see this.

Oh god, his dad could never see this.

“D-Derek?”

“Stiles.”

Stiles flinched, lowering his hands but keeping his eyes firmly closed. Turning around blindly, he felt around until he found the doorknob and turned it, stumbling back into his house. And after a moment, he heard what sounded like Derek following.

“Shut the door behind you,” Stiles said, finally opening his eyes but keeping them straight ahead. “I swear to god, dude, shut the door and hope for both our sakes that nobody saw you go from furry to nude in like, three seconds.”

Stiles heard what sounded like an unimpressed grunt, but he was really trying to pretend like there wasn’t a naked werewolf behind him, thank you very much. After a second, he heard the door shut, and then footsteps moved forward.

“Nope!” Stiles shouted, squeezing his eyes closed again. “Nope, do not take another step, dude! Not until you have some clothes on!”

“Stiles,” Derek growled, definitely sounding irritated now. Stiles waved a hand over his shoulder, cutting the man off.

“Nuh-uh. I’m going to go get you something to wear and you are going to stay… right where you are. Wherever you are. No moving, no going anywhere. No going furry again!”

“Stiles—”

“I swear to god, Sourwolf, I will murder you if you don’t listen to me right now.”

Derek went silent and Stiles waited for a moment longer before realizing he had the upper hand here. More than relieved, he stumbled toward the stairs, keeping his gaze firmly averted until the living room was out of sight

On the top of the stairs, Stiles could easily freak out in peace. He was pretty sure Derek could still hear his heartbeats but whatever.

There was a naked werewolf one floor below. Derek Hale was naked in his living room.

And the man had just been a damn wolf.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Stiles said, heading for his dad’s room. The last time he’d attempted to make Derek wear his clothes, it had nearly ended in a murder, so he figured he’d go with the safe option this time. And that ended up being a pair of sweatpants and Beacon Hills PD t-shirt that Stiles was going to make sure his dad never wore again.

Derek Hale and the Sheriff sharing clothes might be something Stiles would never recover from.

He paused at the top of the stairs again, debating just throwing them down and telling Derek to fetch. But that probably wouldn’t end well either. Taking a deep breath, Stiles moved back downstairs and turned into the living room again, turning his gaze to the floor the moment he caught sight of a bare chest and Derek’s slightly peeved expression.

The man hadn’t moved, at least.

“Here,” Stiles said, thrusting the stack of clothes forward. He heard Derek grunt and could easily imagine the man rolling his eyes, but Derek took them without a complaint.

Stiles turned a little ways away, eyeing the wall with interest until the rustling of clothes turned into silence once more and he glanced back to see Derek finally clothed.

“Oh, thank god,” Stiles said. Derek rolled his eyes.

“Are you happy now?”

“Am I— no, asshole, I’m not happy! You were just naked. And before that, you were a freaking wolf. A wolf! When the hell did that happen?”

Derek’s face tightened. “It’s new.”

“New as in it started a few months ago? You know, when you started disappearing out of nowhere?”

Derek didn’t answer. Stiles groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I hate you sometimes, you know that?”

“I can just leave,” Derek shot back, folding his arms over his chest. Stiles threw up his hands.

“Yeah, well, why did you come here in the first place?”

“Why were you following me all over town?”

“Following— following? I wasn’t following you, asshole! I didn’t even know where the hell you were! I was looking,” Stiles said, glaring. “There’s a difference.”

Derek’s tight expression didn’t change. “Okay, why were you looking?”

“Because I was worried!”

Derek’s eye twitched. But before he could say another word, the doorbell rang and Stiles startled, glancing at it and cursing.

“Trick-or-treaters. But we don’t have any candy to hand out.”

“So just ignore it.”

Stiles went silent and a few seconds passed before the doorbell rang again. Cursing again, he waved Derek off and hurried into the kitchen, scrounging around before finding a box of granola bars. Figuring that would have to be good enough, he rushed back over to the door and pulled it open.

There were only a handful of kids on the step, thankfully. The air filled with the chorus of “trick or treat!” and Stiles put on his best smile, offering the granola bars forward.

One kid frowned. “Where’s the candy?”

“Not here, dude.”

“Why not?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow at him, but before he could say a word, the kid stiffened with a gasp. Turning around, Stiles realized Derek had come to stand behind him, the man’s eyes glowing bright red and his face half-shifted.

A second passed. Then, a chorus of screams filled the air and all of the kids turned, racing from the doorstep. Stiles blinked after them, then turned back toward Derek, staring at the man incredulously.

“Dude, what the hell?”

Derek looked unbothered, the red fading from his eyes as he turned back around. Stiles gazed after him, then glanced back over his shoulder, swallowing hard at the glares from the parents on the sidewalk. He was pretty sure one of the kids was crying.

Oh, this was just fantastic.

“Oh my fucking god,” Stiles said, slamming the door closed. “Derek, you can’t just do that!”

“You can’t give granola bars out instead of candy.”

“Um, excuse me,” Stiles said, gesturing around. “But do you see any candy lying around? And you probably just scarred all of those kids for life, you know!”

Derek shrugged, dropping down onto the couch. “They’ll be fine.”

“I can’t believe this is happening right now.”

The man raised an eyebrow, as if he hadn’t just nearly given a bunch of children heart attacks. Stiles stood rooted to the spot for a moment before stalking over, jabbing a threatening finger in the werewolf’s face.

“You’re going to tell me how this started. Now.”

Derek didn’t look fazed. And dammit, if Stiles didn’t hate him sometimes.

“Derek, I swear to god—”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Derek said. “It’s new. My mother could full-shift and now I can too.”

Stiles clenched his jaw. “And you didn’t think to tell the rest of the pack?”

“I was learning how to control it.”

“You know, some of us could have helped.”

Derek gave him a flat look. And Stiles did his best not to flush bright red, crossing his arms as he dropped into the armchair across from the man.

“I could have helped.”

“Hm.”

“You were a dog,” Stiles stated. And to the man’s continued silence, he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my god, you can turn into a dog.”

“A wolf, Stiles.”

“Wolf, dog, whatever. You can literally rip throats out now.”

When he glanced through his fingers, Derek almost looked a little pleased. And nope, that wasn’t fair at all. Stiles had a real reason to fear for his life when he pissed the man off a little too much, now. And that was not something to be pleased about.

Not in his book, at least.

“You could have told someone, you know,” Stiles said grumpily. “I mean, other than Peter.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah, Peter,” Stiles said, “Trust me, the Creeperwolf knows.”

Derek actually looked a little surprised at that. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have told anyone.”

“What?”

Stiles looked at him in disbelief. Because seriously? He’d been trying to figure out what Derek was doing for months now. And the man still seemed surprised that Stiles had wanted to know? “Dude, do you know how many theories I had?”

Derek looked at him blankly. Stiles huffed.

“I swear to god, I thought you were in trouble or dying or something. That’s stressful, dude!”

“I was fine.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t tell anyone that.”

Derek looked confused for a moment. Then his face did something weird-- Derek actually looked more like a soft teddy bear for a moment, instead of a grumpy werewolf, and Stiles didn’t know what the hell to do with that. “I was fine, Stiles.”

Stiles crossed his arms, glaring down at the floor. Derek sighed.

“Well, now you know, right?”

Stiles looked at the floor for another moment before glancing back up. “Why show me tonight? I wouldn’t have figured it out.”

“You were driving all over town looking for me, Stiles.”

“I was concerned!”

Stiles could’ve sworn the corners of Derek's mouth twitched. And yep, this whole thing was weirding him out. From the wolf, to the nudity, to the fact that Derek Hale looked like he was about to smile.

Stiles leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not going crazy, right?”

“Really, Stiles?”

“I’m just saying, dude,” Stiles said, raising his hands. “This is all kind of weirding me out.”

For a moment, Derek looked uncomfortable. “The shift?”

Stiles blinked. Derek glanced away.

“It’s different. From the others. It's strange.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said. “No, of course that's not it, dude. You being a literal freaking wolf? That’s the coolest thing ever, man.”

Derek glanced up, face a little red. Stiles huffed.

“I guess I’m just not used to having naked werewolves hanging out in my living room.”

The red went all the way to Derek’s ears this time. He scowled, but Stiles thought he could look grumpier. The glare didn't quite reach his eyes and the red of his face was definitely amusing. “Shut up, Stiles.”

“Hmm, sure. So are you going to tell the rest of the pack at some point?”

“At some point.”

Stiles grinned a little bit. “So I’m the only one who knows, then? Other than Peter the Creeper, at least. God, I feel so special.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “For now.”

“I'll take it,” Stiles said, grinning wider. To Derek’s flat look, he raised his hands. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

The man's eyes flashed bright red at that and he smirked. “No, you won’t.”

“I-is that a threat, Sourwolf?”

“You said it yourself. I can rip out throats now.”

A shiver ran down Stiles's spine, but he couldn't tell if it was a terrified one or not. He didn't think so. “I didn’t need that imagery.” And the whole smirking-threat thing totally wasn’t a strange turn on. Not at all.

Dammit.

Except before Derek could say a word again, or maybe catch wind of Stiles's teenage hormones betraying him, the doorbell rang once more. Stiles startled and Derek’s eyes flickered red again. Before the man could go scar more innocent children, though, Stiles jumped up and grabbed the box of granola bars. "Don't you dare."

Derek gave him a flat look. Stiles shrugged.

“I didn’t plan on being around tonight,” he said. “I don't have candy to hand out. Everyone is gathered at the loft anyway. Err, minus the betas perhaps.”

“They might be back by now.”

"Or they're in jail."

Derek didn't look fazed. "It'd be a good lesson."

Stiles rolled his eyes at that, glancing toward the door as the bell rang again. Derek raised an eyebrow, waiting, and Stiles glanced down at the box of granola bars again. Then, he sighed. “Okay, fine, big guy, you get one more scare. Then, we’re going to the loft. Understood?”

The man looked surprised. Stiles smirked a little.

“Or you can stay here and explain to my dad why you’re wearing his clothes when he gets off his shift.”

Stiles was more than entertained to see Derek look terrified for a moment. The big bad wolf, literally looking like Stiles had just threatened him with a stick of wolfsbane. And, full shift wolf or not, Stiles was totally remembering that.

“So?” he said, tilting his head toward the door. And was he a terrible person for allowing this? Maybe a little bit? “Are you gonna go?”

There were definite fangs in Derek half-smirk. That really shouldn’t have been such a turn on too.

Stiles was pretty sure someone was going to call the cops on his house too, just like with the betas. And wouldn’t that confuse the hell out of his dad? Stiles supposed he could always throw them under the bus a second time if needed.

Seconds after Derek opened the door, screams filled the air. Stiles glanced down at the box of granola bars in his hands.

Well…

He set them on the front porch with a ‘take one’ sign when they left, just in case. And Derek made sure Stiles knew he thought the entire thing was stupid and 'granola bars should never be a replacement for candy.' Stiles had never realized the man was such a Halloween snob.

The entire box was still there the next morning.

#sterek #teen wolf #sterekweek2020 #sterek au #wolf!derek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teen wolf edits #sterek edits #sterek moodboard #derek hale x stiles stilinski #fluff #humor #ficlet #late but here

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happylittledrabbles · 3 years ago

Text

choke me!

Rating: 18+

DO NOT READ IF UNDER 18, NO MINORS!!!

Fandom: Attack on Titan

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Eren Yeager

—

"It's been four years, Reiner."

Reiner never thought he'd see Eren again. And yet there he was, sitting in front of him. The two exchange some heated words until Eren has had enough and lunges at Reiner, pinning him against the wall by the throat.

Except, instead of a cry or a shout, Reiner's reaction is a lot more...unexpected.

"Did you just...moan?"

Choking kink fic, basically.

AO3

—

“It’s been four years, Reiner.”

The last person Reiner Braun expected to see tonight was Eren fucking Yeager. He knew he’d see Eren again eventually, he just figured it’d be when Eren was killing him or he was killing the damned menace.

He didn’t think the reunion would be so soon.

They had warned that if Eren were to attack Marley at any time, it’d be tonight. But he had had so much fun at the fair with the kids that he hadn’t fully registered that Eren Yeager still existed. All he could think about was how happy he was to finally be out of that hell that was called Paradis and away from seeing the devils he had grown to love die at the hands of his own people. And he thought he had finally escaped it, except now, the biggest threat among both of their worlds was sitting right in front of him.

“H-how…” No thoughts in his head. There was nothing. Eren’s expression was so calm, it was mocking in comparison to the panic running amok in the blond’s chest.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking in these four years, Reiner Braun.” His name sounded like pure acid on Eren’s tongue. Even if Eren kept his tone measured, Reiner’s name still came out like two spears that pierced him directly in the heart.

“A lot of thinking about how you betrayed us. About how you killed Marco. About how you were my role model. A big brother, really.”

Nausea swirled in his stomach like a hot pit of lava, and he couldn’t help but step back and bump into Falco, who was also petrified; the two of them stilled like perfect marble statues. Reiner had tried hard to forget he ever interacted with Eren, nevermind considered him a friend. There were many times when they were alone together that he almost professed that he was the Armored Titan because he felt so close to him. He felt pride whenever he watched Eren succeed, even though he should have been actively distancing himself from him in preparation for the big operation. When he was supposed to not feel anything at all after breaking through Wall Maria and effectively killing everybody Eren knew, he locked himself in a room and cried and screamed for hours until Bertholdt came in and had to pry his hands from the table and hug him until his other personality took over, and he felt nothing again.

Oh, how he wished his other personality took over now. Then he wouldn’t be able to feel the crippling fear resonating throughout his entire body. Then he wouldn’t be able to feel the pure dread cross his face as Eren grew his missing leg back and stood up, instinctively hugging his arms behind him to make sure Falco was protected.

“I won’t hurt him,” Eren said, his visible eye dropping to the young boy staring at him with stormy blue eyes, wide with terror. He snickered. “Maybe he’ll get caught in the fallout. But, I won’t hurt him now, if that’s what you’re wondering. In fact...” He gestured with his hand for Falco to leave, giving him a chilling smile that he meant to be reassuring. “Go ahead and leave, kiddo. This shouldn’t take long. I just need to talk to my old pal Reiner here.”

“Don’t talk to him,” Reiner whispered shakily, but eventually let Falco go and pushed him forward. “Go. Run as far away as you can. I’ll handle this.” If anything happened, he wanted Falco as far away from the site of disaster as possible.

He turned back to Eren and noticed he was several inches taller than when he last saw him. It made sense; he was a grown adult man now, but it was still a shock. He was so used to peering down at Eren and resting his arm on top of his head, ruffling his hair, tipping his chin back to make eye contact with him. But now, if he slouched even a bit, he’d be shorter.

“How cute. You used to be protective over me like that,” Eren said with a bitter laugh, beginning to step forward when Reiner stepped back and nearly tripped over a chair in response. “What, are you scared of me? Ha. I remember when—”

“Stop!” Reiner cried, slapping his hands over his ears and shaking his head emphatically. “I don’t want to hear it! I don’t—”

“Don’t want to hear what, Reiner? How we used to be friends? How I looked up to you? How we shared so many good times together?” He picked up the chair he was sitting in and smashed it to the ground, the wood strewn across the ground like puzzle pieces. Reiner flinched at the echo of the crackling wood, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Eren blew the splinters off his palms and clapped them together to get rid of the rest of the debris as he walked leisurely around the room with his freshly grown leg, circling Reiner like a hawk to its prey.

“Did you feel anything when you killed Marco? Did you feel anything when I told you my mom was eaten? Knowing it was all your goddamn fault?!” Eren roared, his eye a ball of flaming green fire.

“I—”

“No, you didn’t feel anything. Because if you felt anything, you wouldn’t have tried so hard to get close to me.” Eren unraveled the bandages around his face to reveal his other eye, somehow making the fury blazing in his stare even more potent. He let the bandages drop to the ground, the fabric twisting and turning gently as they fell into a pile. Reiner blinked slowly, so slowly it would have seemed he fell asleep for a moment. He stepped forward, about to reach out to Eren when his breath hitched in his throat, his lungs refusing to expand as he was yet again face-to-face with the boy—man—he had ruined the life of and had grown close to, all at the same time.

He took a deep breath once his lungs began to function again, closing his eyes to block out Eren’s intense glare.

“I was always your friend, Eren,” he clarified, taking the chance to raise his arm up and reach out to the other man in hopes of understanding, of doing something to prevent whatever he was about to do. He flinched at the sound of applause outside, a horrifying reminder of the sheer number of people outside that Eren could so easily massacre in the span of a minute if he transformed. If only he could teleport and tell Willy to get everybody the hell out of there. But alas, he was confined to this basement with nobody other than the embodiment of the Attack Titan.

“Please believe me,” he pleaded, a hopeful yet terrified smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he watched Eren’s expression soften. “I’ve always liked you.”

But Eren’s expression wasn’t softening. It was merely morphing into one of mockery, disdain sharpening in his glare and piercing his chest like a lion’s claws ripping into its prey. He never felt weaker than at that moment.

“Don’t,” he huffed, taking a deep breath before shrieking, “ patronize me! ”

He descended upon Reiner with superhuman speed, gripping his outstretched wrist and pinning it against the wall along with the rest of his body, raising his forearm up and pressing it against Reiner’s neck. He expected Reiner to scream, grunt, curse, or exhale sharply, but the last thing he expected to hear was—

“ Ah-nn!”

It was almost comical how stiff the two men went at the sound, their eyes widening at the same time as they simply stared at each other. In awe, fright, surprise, or a mixture of all three. Reiner couldn’t gather what Eren was thinking from his unreadable expression, but all he knew was that his face was bright red, his heart was racing, and his body was being far too receptive to the heavy weight on his windpipe.

And all Eren knew was that he quickly found out that he liked this just as much as Reiner so obviously did as well.

“Did you just...moan?” Eren whispered, his eyebrow quirking in intrigue. He moved his forearm forward, pressing more of his body weight into Reiner, eliciting yet another sound of pleasure from the other’s thin lips.

“N-no— mmn!” The feeling of his windpipe and the sides of his neck being pressed in together was a feeling that left Reiner’s knees weak, his eyelids growing heavy as endorphins danced around his brain, leaving him in a state of swoon.

As Reiner struggled to stay standing, all Eren could do was stare in pure shock at the scene before him. Never had he seen Reiner come undone so quickly and so easily before, not even when he came across Bertholdt fucking him brilliantly in the outhouse during training. He looked, frankly, bored, as if he was putting on a scene for the other. Perhaps it really was a good thing the beanpole died. Now, Eren could play around with that expression of pure ecstasy without worrying that a seven-foot-tall bag of bones would try and slap him with those gangly limbs.

“Interesting…” Eren trailed off, his tongue wetting his lips as he dropped his forearm, allowing Reiner to gasp for breath and cough. The blond’s hand snaked up to his own throat, making sure it was okay, although its trail was hesitant, bewildered. Was this discovery also new to Reiner himself?

“So...this is new to you, too?” he dared to ask, his hand twitching to replace Reiner’s and uncover that never-before-seen expression on the other’s face once again.

Reiner scoffed and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the resistance his throat gave. “Shut up.”

“I mean, no wonder you always looked so bored when Bertholdt was fucking you,” Eren continued with a shrug as he looked around the room. He smirked, his eyes drifting to Reiner’s, mischief glinting conspicuously in both of them. “You needed something else to get you off.”

Reiner’s confusion was palpable, his agape mouth transforming into a sneer once he realized what Eren was talking about. His face had already been red, but now it was a deep scarlet as his mind ran back and quickly figured out that the shadow outside the window of the outhouse had, indeed, been Eren Yeager. How long had the little bastard been there? He was...busy during that time, so he lost track of the shadow outside once they changed positions. Had Eren...been watching them? Not merely passing by and getting surprised by the sight?

“I said shut the fuck up,” Reiner growled, pushing himself off the wall to leave. However, Eren’s hand clamped down on his throat, pushing him back in the wall and causing his head to thump off the concrete. “Shit!” He tried to gasp, but the force pressing against the sides of his throat was even stronger than before, with more purpose, causing his gasp to morph into a squeal.

“Did I say you could leave?” Eren murmured, leaning forward so that his lips tickled the shell of the other’s ear. He licked a trail on the outside of Reiner’s ear, causing the other to release another strained gasp and squirm under the weight of his hand. Perhaps this awakened something in him, too, because his body was reacting just like Reiner’s was. He couldn’t stop his hand no matter how much he tried; the expression and small whimpers the blond was making underneath him were like pure opium.

“Eren! Ere— oh,” Reiner cried, his clawing at Eren’s hand halting once the brunet’s lips fell to the junction of his jaw and neck, sucking feverishly at the soft skin that wasn’t taken up by his tense fingers. Once he came to after the sensation roiled him up, he exclaimed, “W-what are you doing? Eren, stop—”

“Stop?” Eren chuckled, his other hand dropping to Reiner’s crotch, which was painfully swollen and twitched as his knuckles brushed against it, drawing out a delicious moan from the throat underneath his hold. “And let you leave like this? How rude would that be of me, especially since I was the cause of this?” He paused, a pensive look replacing his devious one. “I mean, if you really want me to, I’ll stop.”

He stepped back, releasing Reiner’s throat and holding his hands up in the air. He tried to suppress the devilish grin that threatened to come out, keeping his face neutral. “I stopped.”

But it was nearly impossible to suppress the grin any longer as he watched Reiner’s expression morph from pure pleasure to confusion to, finally, loss. His trembling hands came up to reconvey the place where Eren’s hand was, an angry red bruise beginning to bloom at the sides of his neck as if trying to see if the hand was truly gone. His eyes dropped to his own crotch, wincing at the sight of it as well as, probably, the pain his constrictive pants were giving him.

“I…” Reiner was both at a loss for words. His eyes searched the room until they fell upon Eren again, a sort of pleading in them. He wanted Eren to read his mind so that he didn’t have to embarrass himself by begging do it again, please come here and choke me and fuck me— but all Eren did was stand there, which was somehow more infuriating than listening to him whisper humiliating things into his ear.

“...come here,” he mumbled, rubbing his forearm nervously. He didn’t dare make eye contact, staring down at the floor as if it’d kill him to look up and meet Eren’s undoubtedly jeering eyes.

“What? I couldn’t hear you?” Eren cupped his hand behind his ear and leaned forward, causing Reiner to suck on his teeth and ball his hands into fists at his sides.

“You’ve always been a little shit, haven’t you?” Reiner grumbled, his arm shooting out and gripping Eren’s wrist, bringing it up and guiding the other’s hand around his throat. “I said—”

“Ah-ah,” Eren interrupted, shaking his head. His hand stayed limp around Reiner’s throat, his other hand sitting comfortably in the pocket of his trousers. “You have to prove to me how much you want it.” He tipped his chin up, gazing at Reiner underneath heavy eyelids, shifting his weight onto one foot.

“Beg.”

“Wha-wha—” Reiner spluttered, his eyes wide and his grip on Eren’s wrist getting tighter and tighter. “What?” As much as he was surprised, his body very much was not. It took in the simple word like an aphrodisiac, his shoulders and cheeks getting even redder and his crotch getting even more painful.

“You heard what I said,” Eren taunted, licking his lips as he closed the gap between them, halting right before his lips. “Beg. Or else I’ll leave you like a bitch in heat.”

When had Eren grown so domineering? He had always had a certain gusto about him, some confidence that propelled him forward, even if it made him look like a loser. He didn’t give up during the ODM training even when it was clearly rigged against him. He made the broken thing work. It was pure rage that was fueling him, but...when had lust taken over? When had the fury in his eyes melted into hot ardor? Had he...always felt that way about Reiner?

“Eren…” he trailed off, trying to muster up the courage to actually beg. God, this was humiliating. How the hell did they even get here? What were they doing? But he couldn’t let Eren leave and kill all those people. And he certainly couldn’t fight in this condition. As much as it was dehumanizing, Eren was right. It felt as if he was in heat, his entire body boiling and in need of an electric touch.

“Choke me, please.”

“Yawn. Do better.”

“C-choke me, hard.” Reiner’s eyes rolled partly up as he felt the pressure of Eren’s hand growing around his neck, unable to restrain his outburst: “Harder! Please, choke me—touch me...ugh…”

The pressure had returned, and the physical incapability of speaking due to his constricted windpipe replaced his emotional incapability due to his dignity. But what dignity did he have now? All he could do now was completely let go.

“Fuck, yes! E-Eren, I—” He gasped when the pressure finally returned to its previous state, giving his body its much-needed dose of aggression. “I want you to f...f-fuck me.”

Eren chuckled, deep and dark, and before the other knew it, they were smashing lips, a violent exchange of saliva and pleasure.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he murmured against Reiner’s lips, both of them panting after the impromptu makeout session. He smirked as he slipped his other hand out of his pocket and trailed it down Reiner’s chest, stopping at his pecs and giving them a generous squeeze, earning him a grunt from the blond. “To be honest, I thought you’d come just from me choking you. Kind of pathetic, don’t you think?”

Reiner’s eyes were tightly squeezed shut, biting his bottom lip to prevent any more embarrassing sounds from slipping out.

“S-shut up.” But that couldn’t have been less convincing. The affinity for choking was new, but the chest fondling was old news. The training camp had been torture for him since there were way too many instances of people accidentally brushing against his pecs or nipples, almost causing him to rupture a blood vessel from trying to suppress a squeak.

But Eren was taking full advantage of having it right in front of him, diving his face into them and massaging them with his free hand with a voracious speed as if they’d disappear.

“These have grown a lot, haven’t they?” Eren jeered, pulling back his choking hand to strip Reiner of the top half of his clothing to be even closer to those soft pecs. The second the fabric had been removed, his choking hand returned and he dove right back in, leaving a trail of hickeys on the cleavage made by his pecs.

“Eren! E—a-ah—”

“I’d say they’re almost D cups, I think,” he continued, his voice muffled from the masses of muscle. He pulled back slightly, eyeing them for a moment before opening his mouth and clamping his teeth around the perfectly pink and perky nipple, leaving deep marks in the velvety areola.

“AH! What the—ow!” Reiner’s eyelids shot open, looking to see what the hell Eren was doing down there. All he saw was him grinning proudly, his hand coming up to stroke the bitemarks and not-so-accidentally passing over the nipple, giving it a gentle squeeze and flick. “Eren, the fuck?”

“Get down on your knees,” Eren commanded, and Reiner found himself on autopilot at the conviction in the other’s voice, his knees wobbling before dropping to the floor in compliance. He kept his eyes on Eren’s knees, his previous bashfulness returning; how could he make eye contact like this? He knew what was going to happen next: the horrendous blush on his face and chest made it quite clear.

Meanwhile, Eren was taking his time enjoying the view under him. He bit his bottom lip, letting out another chuckle as he shook his head. “You know, Reiner, I always looked up to you. I never thought I’d see you like this. So...submissive.” He tipped Reiner’s chin up gently with his finger to get the other to meet his eyes. “You never let me get the upper hand in training. You were the one making me drop to my knees.” He frowned. “But now you’re looking up to me. Funny how that works, huh? It only took the murder of an entire village of people and my mom to get you like this.”

Eren teasing him about his choking kink was humiliating. Being on his knees to somebody he saw as a little brother, about to commit even more sinful acts, was humiliating. But being constantly reminded of all the atrocities he committed against his friends was pure torture. It was putting quite a damper on his mood, but he couldn’t exactly tell Eren to stop talking about it because he’d only jeer him more. The only way he could think to get Eren to shut up was…

He dove forward, opening his mouth and wrapping his lips around the bulge in Eren’s trousers, his hand coming up to further massage it. His trousers smelled of grass and disinfectant, but the distraction was clearly working, seeing as Eren’s agape mouth stopped forming words and only allowed a shuddering breath to pass through.

“You’re eager, eh? Alright, I’ll give you what you want.” With one swift motion, he unbuckled his belt and was about to let it drop to the floor, but his eyes flashed with intrigue as they switched between Reiner’s neck and the leather. “On second thought…”

He wrapped it around Reiner’s neck, and before the blond could say anything, he zipped the belt until it was pressed tightly against the pallid skin underneath, already causing it to pinken from irritation. He poked a new hole into the leather, sliding it through and returning his hands to unbutton his trousers.

“You look like a dog,” Eren scoffed. Once his trousers were unbuttoned, he pushed them down only slightly; he didn’t expect this to take too long, seeing as how undone Reiner already was. He gripped the other’s jaw tightly in his hand, maneuvering the chiseled face to look up at him. “Bark for me.”

Reiner, who was still processing the belt around his neck, spluttered about and furiously shook his head, trying to get it out of Eren’s grip. “Hell no! I’m not a damn dog.”

“Hm. Shame.” Eren’s grip on him lessened, only for it to return full force when he transferred it from his muscled jaw to his short hair, the locks sticking straight up in between his fingers. “Then put your mouth to good use.”

Reiner was going to object, but the warmth radiating from in front of him made him drop his eyes to be faced with what looked like an iron rod underneath the linen fabric of Eren’s drawers. He gulped at the sight; if this didn’t fit in his mouth, how the hell was this going to go inside of him? He would have cursed himself for thinking that far ahead, but the act was inevitable—Eren was going to fuck his brains out.

He took a deep breath and leaned forward, pressing a hesitant kiss to the tip wetting the fabric with precum practically sticking up out of the top. He had caught flashes of Eren naked whenever they came across a hot spring or all the boys bathed together, and what was in front of him hardly compared to what he had seen back then. Eren truly had grown in more ways than one.

He shakily lifted a hand and moved the fabric out of the way, allowing Eren’s cock to spring up proudly, almost as if he was mocking Reiner and his need for it. He licked his lips and leaned forward, licking from the base to the tip with a flat tongue, practically drooling over it with the amount of need swirling in his chest.

“F...uck,” Eren groaned, tipping his chin up as his grip on Reiner’s hair tightened. “Got a lot of practice with Bertholdt, I see.”

Just at the mention of Bertholdt, Reiner sped up his stroking and licking, yet again hoping this method would get Eren to shut up and to produce more of those sounds of pleasure. Sure, he seemed to be dominant in this dynamic, but Reiner was the one who held the most power as of now. He could leave Eren blue-balled and walk away, or Eren could do the same to him. They were caught in a lustful dance of power, and neither wanted to walk away, as sinful as it was.

“Wait, you’re going too— shit!” The grip on his hair was growing painful, and it only grew tighter when he opened his mouth wide and engulfed Eren’s cock up to the middle, using his tongue all the while to lap up his drool and his hand to stroke the places his mouth couldn’t reach. He very much successfully got Eren to shut the fuck up, and he smiled to himself as he graciously lent his throat as a substitute for yelling at him to be quiet.

“What a fucking slut,” Eren chuckled, brushing the few long locks of hair that flopped into Reiner’s eyes, tipping his chin up slightly to meet his eyes. “Look at me while you do it.”

Pervert, Reiner thought, but he wasn’t all that different himself, for he looked up at lightning speed and locked eyes with the commandeering man above him, feeling precum and saliva running down his beard. That’ll be a bitch to clean.

“Good.” Just that word was enough to send chills down his spine, his eyelids fluttering with pleasure as he reached his hand that wasn’t busy stroking down between his legs, trying to soothe the throbbing pain spreading in his groin. But he was interrupted by Eren groaning and his grip on his hair turning into stone.

“Since you wanna go so fast,” he murmured, cocking his head curiously before pulling Reiner all the way down his cock, the other’s nose nestling in the happy trail leading down his stomach.

GURK!

“It’s satisfying to see you choking on me,” he laughed, tossing his head back to let out a moan as he could feel Reiner’s throat tightening and moving around him, the softness of the back of his mouth leaving him breathless. “I’ll fuck you in a second, but in the meantime…”

He gave an experimental thrust, slow and shallow, leading to more gurgling and choking noises from the man below him, drool beginning to build up in the corners of his mouth and dribble down his chin. Reiner’s hands flung out to grip Eren’s thighs, trying to process the fact that he was being facefucked.

“Mmgh—nngf!” He tried desperately to slurp up as much drool as he could, but it was beginning to pour now, down his chin and onto the floor, gathering into a pool near his knees. His eyes were watering, the tears accumulating in the corners of his eyes.

“F-fuck yeah,” Eren growled. Now equipped with more confidence, he pulled out of Reiner’s mouth partly—giving the other a short sense of relief—before snapping his hips forward, lodging himself deep down in his throat. A horrid gagging sound released itself from his throat, squeezing between his cheeks and Eren’s cock. His stomach dry-heaved, but he had hardly any time to recuperate before Eren launched back into thrusting himself over and over into his mouth.

“Hah— fuck, this is good,” he groaned, a smirk ever-present on his lips. He could feel Reiner’s throat straining against the belt as it expanded, which only provided even more tightness. However, his smirk disappeared once he felt a familiar warmth building up in his stomach, signaling he was almost at his end. He lowered his head from the thrown-back position it had been in before, and he almost finished on the spot when he saw the lewdness on Reiner’s face. The blond was beet red, his cheeks looking as if he had been slapped over and over—which he had somewhat been, with Eren’s stomach—his mouth berry red and stretched to accommodate the cock he was sucking so deliciously, gobs of spit running down his chin, and tears trailing down those highlighter-red cheeks. God, he looked gorgeous.

“Well,” he mumbled, pulling out of Reiner’s mouth and allowing him a moment to breathe and cough out all the phlegm and irritation gathered up in his throat. He only added more spit to the pool in front of him, falling onto hands and knees as he spat out the last of the spit and precum that accumulated in his throat.

Eren let out an exasperated breath, rolling his eyes as he buried his hand in Reiner’s hair again and roughly tugged him up to his feet, the other whining and complaining the entire way. He faced the blond for only a second before turning him around to face the wall and shoved him against it, his chest pressed against the cold stone. While his hand was busy holding Reiner’s wrists together behind his back, the other trailed down to grip his ass, giving it a firm squeeze before slipping it underneath the waistband of his trousers.

“Your mouth pussy was fantastic, but I want to use the real one,” he explained, his lips leaving the tip of Reiner’s ears bright red as he stroked the soft skin underneath his hand and cupped the mounds of well-built muscle. “What a bubble butt. Heh, you really worked hard on this. If your muscles are this tight, I can’t imagine your asshole.”

“Mm!” Reiner whimpered, his shoulders hiking up to his ears to protect them from the assault of Eren’s hot breath and humiliating words. He tried to break free from Eren’s grip on his wrists, to no avail. Both his wrists and his neck were restricted, and although it was uncomfortable, it only made the throbbing ache in his pants even more painful. How he developed this kink, he had no idea—all he knew was that he wanted relief, now. “Eren...Eren, please. Fuck me. Ple—guh— ”

“Shut up for a second,” Eren commanded as he forced two fingers into Reiner’s already heavily lubricated mouth, sopping up the spit dripping from the roof of his mouth and tongue. He shuddered at the feeling of Reiner’s soft tongue wrapping around his fingers, amazed that such a thing was on his cock only a few moments ago and even more amazed that he didn’t come on the spot. He used his thumb to push Reiner’s pants down to his ankles, marveling at the view of his back muscles rippling under his pale skin, fighting against the restraining grip on his wrists, followed by the elegant slope into the two golden apples for an ass.

“Goddamn,” he breathed, lowering his head and opening his mouth to deliver a deep bite to the virgin skin at the nape of Reiner’s neck, sinking his canines into the flesh in an almost animalistic motion, causing Reiner to jolt from underneath him.

“Eren, stop with the biting!” Reiner pleaded, but he couldn’t help the whispery moan that passed through his lips at the thought of being marked.

“Sorry not sorry,” Eren replied with a snicker, resorting to leaving hickeys to further mark his presence on Reiner’s body, proudly screaming I was here and fucked him beautifully. “You clean back here?”

The mere insinuation that he wasn’t made Reiner want to turn around and snap Eren’s neck right then and there, especially considering he very much doubted Eren was. He grunted, the awkwardness of that question causing nausea to boil in his stomach.

“I...bathed for the festival earlier today,” he explained haltingly, his blush radioactive at this point. But when Eren didn’t move right away, he sighed and opened his legs slightly, wrestling one wrist free and trailing it down to his asscheek, spreading it open as a very clear invitation. “Hurry up.”

Eren’s eyes widened, and a heated smile filled out his face at the sight of Reiner coming completely undone and practically begging to get fucked. Before the spit on his fingers could dry, he spread Reiner’s cheeks with his other fingers and plunged his index and middle fingers inside, earning a squeal from the blond.

“S-slow! Slower!”

A confused look crossed Eren’s face, but he shrugged and continued to scissor Reiner open, curling his fingers against the soft walls to try and find that one spot that drove men crazy. He found out about that quickly while at the hospital, a male nurse being particularly caring and spreading his legs open to cure a patient.

“I thought you’d be looser than this,” he replied, genuinely baffled at how tightly Reiner’s grip around his fingers was. How the hell was he supposed to fit inside? They said the bottom being tight is more pleasurable, but he imagined it’d downright hurt his dick.

“You jackass, I haven’t done it in a-a wh... while,” Reiner stuttered, a grunt sneaking in between his words as he tried to accustom himself to the feeling. He was arching his back as much as possible, but he quickly discovered it could arch much more when a sudden wave of pleasure crashed over him and a lustful cry made his mouth drop.

“Found it,” Eren sang, a proud grin spreading across his lips.

“Hng-! ” was all that came out of Reiner, followed by heavy breathing and small whimpers as he tried to regulate his breathing, but it was difficult when Eren ruthlessly continued abusing that spot now that he knew its location. “Eren...it feels...a-ah…”

“My fingers are magic, I know,” he replied with a shit-eating grin, and although Reiner’s back was to him, he could feel the bratty expression he was making.

“Oh, shut up, you idiot,” Reiner groaned, about to insult the other once more before another wave of pure pleasure corrupted him and returned him to his panting, sweating state.

After a few more moments of scissoring and dirty talk, Eren pulled out his fingers, much to Reiner’s dismay, and gripped himself as he stepped closer and lined himself up with Reiner’s entrance.

“Alright, get ready,” he joked, bracing the wall with one hand and snaking the other around Reiner’s neck once more, pulling his head back so that he could see the look of shock in his eyes as he slowly pushed the tip inside.

“Ngh!” Tears were gathering at the corners of Reiner’s eyes again as he attempted, again and again, to relax and breathe the pain away, but it didn’t help that Eren was so well-endowed. “Just...slow—go slowly.”

Eren pulled out at a snail’s pace, looking down to see where they connected before pushing back in, earning a low groan from both the men. “I don’t even have to try. You’re so tight, I can’t fucking move. Feels like my dick is going to be pulled off.”

Reiner rolled his eyes, about to say something until a sigh interrupted him as Eren continued to pull out and push inside, staying at the same pace. “I can’t control that. I hope your dick gets pulled off. Maybe then you wouldn’t be a murderous basta— hngh!”

A slap echoed in the small room from Eren giving one solid thrust, the roughness of it seen from the reddening of Reiner’s ass. He chuckled at the other’s reaction and tightened his grip on his neck, the belt making it a lot easier to yank him back and force him to meet his eyes. “Watch your words, Braun. Or else,” he gave another rapid thrust, causing the fat on Reiner’s ass to ripple from the force, “that will happen.”

“O-okay, okay, I’m d-done!” Reiner cried, his arm reaching back to grip Eren’s shirt for leverage while the other clung to the wall for dear life. “I promise, I’ll s...nngh...stop.”

“That’s what I thought,” Eren taunted, licking a trail up Reiner’s cheek, picking up the salty tears spilling from his eyes along the way. “You think I can move now without losing my dick?”

Reiner didn��t answer. All he did was lower his head as much as he could with Eren’s grip on it, preparing himself to lose the small ounce of dignity he still had left. He arched his back and pushed back onto Eren’s cock, gasping at the feeling of it spreading him apart and leaving him so perfectly full. He swirled his hips, trying to find that spot Eren so easily discovered, all the while pulling out and swirling his hips as he pushed back. It was quite the ab workout, causing sweat to build up on his hairline and building a thin sheen on his skin.

This was heaven on Earth. The view was spectacular, but what was more spectacular was watching Reiner act like a complete slut, as if Eren’s cock was the only thing that could bring him relief and pleasure. He was really willing to give up all his dignity just to use it to pleasure himself, and Eren couldn’t have been more willing of a participant.

“I guess that’s the answer to my question,” he breathed, a moan causing him to throw his head back. He dropped both his hands to Reiner’s hips, riding alongside their gyrating motions. “Yeah...that’s nice. Keep moving like that.”

“Eren,” Reiner warned, looking over his shoulder now that his neck was freed. “Eren, move, goddamn it.”

Eren cocked his head. “Is that how you ask for it?”

“Oh, for fuck’s—Eren, please, fuck me. Ruin me, do what you want, just please fuck m— ”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” It only took half a second for Eren to comply with Reiner's wishes, snapping his hips forward and sending Reiner careening toward the wall, his face pressed up against the stone just like his chest was. He’d definitely have scrapes on his face as it bounced up and down with each merciless thrust that practically sent him up the wall.

“ Ahn—ugh! Fuck, fuck, yes! Feels good, f-feels so—hnngh! ” The dry slapping noises eventually turned into wet, squelching sounds that would have made Reiner cringe, but he could barely hear them in the fugue state he was in. Eren was right: he felt like a dog in heat, his mind on nothing else but getting pounded until he was filled.

“Faster! God, faster! Ngh, harder!”

Reiner’s moans leaked, and as much as he wanted to stop, he didn’t have the energy since all of it was going into not finishing right then and there. It was just what he needed, except…

He tilted his head back, which was difficult with how roughly Eren was slamming into him, but he eventually caught Eren’s eye and smiled. “Choke me, Eren. Choke me until I can’t breathe.”

Eren smiled back, his grin malicious. “You got it, sweetheart.”

He took that command to heart because instead of one hand this time around, he used both hands, wrapping them around Reiner’s neck and using that for leverage instead of his hips. It was honestly a nicer angle to better fuck Reiner into oblivion, and he used it to his full advantage.

Smack, smack, smack, smack…

“ Guh— ugh, fu-uck,” Reiner groaned, practically gargling his own words with how he could barely breathe. Meanwhile, Eren was struggling with holding back his own moans with how velvety soft Reiner’s walls were, hugging him like the most comfortable sweater in the world. How did he go this long without taking advantage of the hole that had been around him all this time?

“I never thought you’d be this easy of a lay,” Eren remarked, graduating one hand’s place from Reiner’s neck to his hair, pulling it and pushing his face into the concrete. “Who knew you’d open up to me this easily? If I knew, I would’ve fought Bertholdt for access to your ass.”

The fog of lust clouding Reiner’s brain long enough for him to understand and process Eren’s comments, and, even though it was nearly impossible to speak anything other than moans and whines and emote anything other than pleasure, he still attempted to reach backward and scratch Eren’s hip, leaving three bright marks on the tanned skin.

“After this is over, I’m going to kill you,” Reiner managed to say when Eren stopped shortly to readjust his angle. He was very grateful for that split second of clarity because once Eren started up, instead of brushing against that spot, he was directly nailing it over and over with perfect precision.

“ OH— oh, my God, I-I’m—too much, too much, I’m so— ah, hah... c-close—!” Reiner was incoherent at this point, finally reaching the “brains fucked out” stage of this brutal hookup. He could no longer think. All he could do was moan, pant, and cry out each time his spot was abused.

“ Hah—I’m gonna come soon, t-too,” Eren breathed, having his own difficulties with speech. He tried to act as cool and collected for as long as possible, but now, it was nearly impossible, with each thrust drawing out the warm feeling in his stomach more and more. It also didn’t help that Reiner kept tightening around him with each thrust, giving him all the components to finish. He just needed one thing.

“Where do you want it?” Eren whispered, dropping his head to take advantage of the last few moments to leave more hickeys all along Reiner’s neck and collarbones.

Reiner was beyond redemption at this point, evidenced by the fact that he all but screamed out, “Inside! Please, inside, come inside, I n-need it, I need you, please, I—”

His orgasm was sudden and unexpected, but Eren hit his spot at the perfect angle and speed, causing it to rip through his body. He was left speechless, going rigid as his vision spotted before going completely white, finally receiving the release he had been chasing over the past half hour. He heard somebody wailing, and when his consciousness returned to him, he realized he was the one making that awful noise, his vocal cords frying themselves with the unadulterated ecstasy running through his system.

Eren didn’t take much longer to follow, giving a few more slams—rougher than all the ones preceding them—before coming undone deep inside Reiner, groaning at the feeling of warmth coating Reiner’s walls and making his insides even hotter than they already were. But he wasn’t done. In his state of bliss, he managed to pull out of Reiner—earning a pitiful whimper from the other—and turn him around to push down on his shoulders so that he was on his knees again.

“Fuck, fuck—fuck! ” Eren couldn’t help the countless exclamations of pleasure that racked his body as he stroked himself furiously in front of Reiner’s face. The last of his come splashed on Reiner’s face, coating his cheeks and the bridge of his nose in the milky white substance. Yet again, he wasn’t done. He smeared the tip across Reiner’s lips, painting them with the same glossy color. And with that, he was done, stepping back to admire his handiwork. He grinned, satisfied with the result.

He had completely ruined Reiner Braun. His hair was tangled and sticking out in all different places. His eyes were red from crying. His face was completely coated in sticky, hot semen. He could barely open his lips without it stringing between them. Tears stained his splotched cheeks, and dried saliva ran down the entirety of his chin and throat. His chest was red as well, full of bite marks and hickeys. His neck was a completely different story—it was probably rubbed raw and full of scratches and finger indentations, all of which were hidden under the belt. And then…

“Turn around for me and bend over,” Eren said, his last demand of the night.

He had evidently turned Reiner into an obedient subordinate because without a single complaint or hesitation, the blond nodded submissively and turned around, revealing his back that was full of scratches and the deep bite mark at the nape of his neck. To think, he’d probably be targeting that nape in a couple of minutes once again, except it’d be for the kill. He wondered if, when he’d rip Reiner from the nape of his Titan’s neck and admire his dead body, the bite mark on his neck would still be there.

Reiner bent over, lifting his ass in the air and dropping his chest and face to the floor, a look of pure embarrassment on his soiled face.

“Beautiful,” Eren whispered to himself as he watched his come pour out of Reiner’s hole, running down his leg and dripping onto the ground. “Satisfied?”

Reiner, from his docile place on the floor, nodded his head, his hair flowing back and forth on the ground. “Y-yes...thank you…”

He then collapsed to the floor, his hips no longer able to sustain his own weight. His legs were trembling, never having experienced such a savage fucking before. It had always been loving, sweet, slow. But he quickly found that he had been severely deprived of something he so desperately needed. He’d probably get brain damage from all the choking he was going to do in the future, but that didn’t matter. He already planned on dying soon, anyway.

“I’m going...to kill you...after this,” Reiner continued, severely out of breath.

Eren walked over silently, squatting down and brushing the hair out of Reiner’s sweaty and dirtied face. “I’d like to see you try. You can barely walk.”

He laughed and pat Reiner on the rear, standing back up and walking over to the exit as he fixed his trousers and buttoned them.

“But thanks for the good fuck. I needed that. Honestly, if I hadn’t made everybody from Paradis come rescue me today, I’d save this battle for another day. I’m feeling very…” He lifted up his hands, looking at his nails and running his fingers through his hair. “...relaxed right now.”

Reiner was half-asleep, but he was conscious enough to have heard Eren’s words loud and clear. He snapped his head up and turned to stare at Eren to see if what he heard was the truth, but all he was met with was Eren adjusting his shirt and tightening his hair into a bun.

“P-Paradis?”

“Yeah. Heh.” Eren looked over his shoulder and winked. “I’ll catch you out there, then. If you manage to survive, come to Paradis. I’ll give you a very special welcome.”

And with that, Eren Yeager exited the room heavy with the smell of sex and quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Reiner Braun was left alone—used and besmirched with a fucked-out mind—to mull over what just happened and what will happen in only a handful of minutes.

Eren fucking Yeager.

#attack on titan #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger #eren yeager #reiner braun #eren x reiner #smut #aot smut #fanfiction

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clandonnachaidh · 4 years ago

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Light Across The Seas That Severed

Read on AO3

It always surprised Jamie Fraser, the things that made him think of Claire Beauchamp. Along with the usual triggers—the gut punch when he caught a whiff of someone wearing her signature perfume, the seizing of his heart when his eyes were automatically drawn to messy brown curls on a stranger walking down the high street, the ache in his chest when someone walked past who had the same cadence as her laugh—it was the small, unexpected ones that hurt the most.

He could be walking into the village and see her hair in the colours of the water as it ruffled over the rocks in the burn, so real to him that it felt as though he could reach out and tangle it through his fingers. His carefully curated playlist would end and Spotify would betray him, blasting a song that he had kept at bay, conjuring memories of the two of them dancing like fools on the nights that they laughed so loud that it seemed even the walls shook as they brushed their teeth in the cramped bathroom of their dorm.

It was torture. A delicious kind, but torture nonetheless. One that he had thought to turn into prose—at the recommendation of his therapist. It had been explained to him that grief and loss were themes that could be explored in ourselves if we attempted to write them from another’s perspective. And so here he was now, years after she had left him, sitting at his late father’s desk with a whisky in one hand and a pen in the other, trying to make sense of what had happened and how he had ever been stupid enough to watch silently as her light, his Sorcha, slipped from his life.

On yet another night spent in the same position—the room dark with only a lamp beside him to illuminate the black moleskin notebook—he reclined, the chair creaking under his weight. His father’s old office chair, with it’s worn leather and rusty hinges, wasn’t built to accommodate a man of his size but he’d found that it actually helped to coax the words from his brain, as though the physical discomfort made his emotional pain easier to access. He seemed to need a little nudge to allow himself to sink deeper into parts of his past that he had spent so long trying to keep locked away.

When the whisky finally made him brave enough to open the door, the memories flooded out onto the paper: the sight of her pink lips pouted in frustration as she struggled to lift her belongings from the boot of the taxi on the first day of university, the first time she laughed at one of his terrible jokes (why do the French only use one egg to make an omelette, Sassenach? Because one is an oeuf!), the first time he helped her into her coat and his fingertips brushed the skin behind her ear (their maiden voyage to the on campus coffee house, faces taut in disgust as they realised that their unrelenting back and forth had caused their coffees to go cold). He wrote about falling in love with his best friend and why he had wasted so much time worrying about how to tell her.

Jamie had spent hours, days, months, sitting in his father’s chair, consumed by the fruitless pursuit of trying to plot the points of their relationship. Although he could vividly picture the scenes, he didn’t recognise the people anymore. He had been young, too young by half to know what he wanted out of life and she had been more than he could have dreamed of. He had fallen in love with her instantly, as he was sure most people did at the sight of one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. But that was years ago and they had both changed, she was living her life in Boston as a brilliant surgeon while Jamie languished in Lallybroch, living in his old bedroom while his sister and her family had the run of the house.

The burn of the whisky slipping down his throat was a pleasant distraction but the batch still made his eyes water slightly and he made a mental note to tell Ian that the recipe could still do with some tweaking before it could be sold under the Mac Dubh name. He had made a modest success of himself, that was true, now the creator of the fourth highest selling whisky in Scotland. Broch Tuarach had changed from a small farming village that nobody really knew of to the home of one of Scotland’s largest and most successful distilleries, and Jamie was often credited with bringing jobs and tourists to the village in numbers that hadn’t been seen before. There had been a boom in the local economy allowing the village to thrive and he was seen as a pillar of the community, people jokingly referring to him as Laird, or the more familiar Himself, when he passed them in the street although the official title was held by some landowner that lived down south somewhere and had only stepped foot in the area once.

Still, he thought, this batch wasn’t ready for marketing just yet. Jamie put the glass down, rubbed his tired eyes with his even more tired fingers and decided to call it a night, making his way down the hall to his bedroom. His limbs felt heavy as he went through the motions of getting ready for bed. Finally stripping off his shirt and jeans and crawling under the covers, he cast a cursory glance at the phone he had left charging on the bedside table.

Sassenach

Missed call 23.02

He screwed his eyes shut before opening them again as if to knock some sense into them but the notification was still there. The rough pad of his thumb hovered over it, almost afraid that if he attempted to open it, it would cease to exist. He pressed the lock button once to blacken the screen, paused, and then pressed it again to bring it into view and still it remained.

It must have been an accident, a slip of the hand while she was trying to call someone else. He reminded himself of the time difference, it would be the early evening where she was and she could be tired after a long day or maybe even rushing between surgeries. She probably hadn’t even noticed that she had called him. He had to fight his inflating ego when he considered the fact that she still had his number, but blushed in shame as he recalled the frightened face of the poor spotty teenage lad in the phone shop who he had made swear that he wouldn’t lose any contacts or photos when he upgraded to his new handset.

Realising that he was now sat straight up in his bed, his heart beating a slightly faster staccato than usual, he opened the notification. Just seeing her name (or rather, his name for her) on his screen again did things to his body that he wasn’t in control of. His hands felt clammy while his mouth was dry. This was different than just scanning her Facebook page in the dark, looking at her perfectly posed pictures that she chose to share, and lamenting the absence of candids that he had so loved taking when they were friends. She found one of them once, one he had snapped of her the day that they had taken the ferry over to the Isle of Arran for a few nights. Knowing that she didn’t have any remaining family, he had insisted that she spend the summer break from university at Lallybroch with his family and she had happily accepted. However, after a few nights in Jamie’s massive ancestral home, filled with more Fraser bodies than they could count, he promised to take her away for a few days of peace and had driven her to the ferry terminal at Claonaig without divulging their destination. They had been blessed with a beautiful summer’s day for the crossing to Lochranza and he’d thanked God that he managed to keep his breakfast in his stomach. Or rather, that he almost had until they were in sight of the island. Jamie had burst from his seat and had made it to the toilet just in time for his stomach to erupt, sweat dampening his brow until his wame was empty. Shivering and definitely worse for wear but at least grateful in the knowledge that there was nothing else to come up, he had returned to the deck of the ferry to see Claire out in the sun, her forearms resting on the railing as she looked out over the water. The way that her hair whipped up in the wind made Jamie’s chest tighten and before he knew it, he had taken out his phone and snapped a picture.

Months later, Claire had snagged his phone from the table of the bar that they were sat in, too quick for Jamie. She quipped an eyebrow at him in victory, chastising him that he had yet to show her pictures of his latest niece when she stumbled across the photo. He watched as her throat bobbed, swallowing emotion that he wished he could taste before looking at him straight in the eye. Without being asked, he told her that he couldn’t help himself. And she smiled shyly before cooing about Jenny’s new daughter.

The memory flooded his senses and Jamie closed his eyes, filling his lungs with a deep breath for a count of four, holding it for a count of four and then letting it out for six in a vain attempt at calming his racing mind. His whole body felt as though it was vibrating, alive for the first time in what he could remember at the mere <em>thought</em> of Claire Beauchamp.

It took Jamie a second to realise that the vibration wasn’t coming from his body. Or rather, it was, but from a specific part of his body. His hand, the one that was holding his phone, was shaking rhythmically, the screen bright against the darkness of the rest of the room.

Sassenach calling…

The breath jittered from his lungs as he tried to take a steady breath. Watching, almost as though someone else was moving his body as he thumb accepted the call and he slowly raised the phone to his ear.

“Claire?”

On the other end of the phone, he heard her let out a heavy breath. His heart seized as he listened to her break, all too familiar with the sound of her crying.

“Claire, are ye hurt? Tell me what’s—“

“Frank is dead.”

Ice fell heavy in his chest at the sound of her voice before he even took stock of the words that she had uttered. To hear her voice again.

“Oh, lass… Mo chridhe, I am so sorry,” he whispered the words, truly meaning them as he wished for nothing but her happiness. Anything to bring her from the pain that she was feeling.

“He— oh God, he’s dead. He’s really dead.”

He knew in that moment that he would cross oceans for her simply to bring her peace. He had always known the truth of what they shared, how he responded to her call but nothing had prepared him for the tsunami of pure need that he would experience when he heard her cry down the phone about her dead husband.

“I’m sorry, mo chridhe, I’m so sorry,” he repeated at the sound of her hyperventilating, his shoulders creeping up around his ears as he wished he could bear the pain for her, “What do you need, Claire? Anything.”

“He’s in the ground,” she whispered as though saying it out loud would make it more true, “God, Jamie, I don’t know what to do.”

Hearing his name fall from her lips was a balm that he didn’t know his soul needed. The hairs on his arms stood to attention as a shiver rippled through him, clenching his jaw to steady himself and give her his full attention.

“Do ye have people around ye, Claire? Have ye folk in Boston?”

#light across the seas that severed #clandonnachaidh #ao3 #outlander fanfic #jamie fraser #Claire beauchamp #outlander #modern au

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secret-engima · 4 years ago

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okay 1) i can’t believe you’ve reawakened my rwby obsession that hasn’t been a Thing since vol2 first came out years ago how dare you. 2) i have a mighty need for canon rwby, tai, qrow, and oz to meet always i dreamed’s storq. i can only imagine the reactions.

I regret nothing!!!! *does the gremlin dance*

THAT WOULD BE SO FUN. So chaotic.

Just- It would be GREAT if somehow it’s the canon cast stumbling headfirst into Team STORQ’s world. And nobody knows how Tai got there when everyone else happened to be on campus but he’s here and after some paranoid pointing, Ozpin and the Much Younger Ozpin agree that this is all very strange and they need to run damage control. Team RWBY is staring at an Oz who only looks a few years older than them, maybe in his early twenties at most, and Qrow is trying to fade into the background because he knows where they are in this other timeline and he doesn’t want to think about it.

But it’s late, and Ozpin is struggling to sort accommodations for dimension travelers who need to stay secret, and suddenly a portal opens. Canon Qrow, Tai and Oz all freeze, young Oz looks briefly alarmed and then resigned. Team RWBY doesn’t get it until out struts a 20-something RAVEN BRANWEN dressed in her pajamas, “Oz. It’s almost mid...” she takes in the dimension hoppers with a blank look, then props her hands on her hips, “I’m not going to ask what happened, I don’t wanna know. But I assume they need a place to spend at least the night?”

Young Ozpin makes a faint noise of agreement into the hands he’s hiding his face with. Raven nods calmly, rolls her shoulders in thought.

Hefts young Ozpin over her shoulder like he’s a glorified potato sack, “They can stay in the guest cabin, Tai won’t mind.”

“I’m sorry, what?” says more than one canon character while canon Oz makes a strangled noise at the sight of Raven carting off his younger version.

Raven calls over her shoulder, “Hurry up, the portal is noisy, and if you wake up Yang after I just got her settled there will be blood to pay.”

Extremely off balance, they all file through the portal into a bedroom that is about 80% bed.

A younger Tai, Summer, and Qrow are already sprawled on it in varying states of sleep and Raven is contentedly flopping a resign younger Ozpin down on it without hesitation or remorse.

The only reason none of the canon characters make a racket is because their brains are universally bluescreening as Young Raven kisses her Tai’s forehead to settle him down, steals young Ozpin’s glasses off his face to put them on the nightstand, and then herds them all out what is undeniably the house on Patch.

Canon Qrow, in a strangled whisper: You- uh- that- them- uh-

Raven eyes him in vague amusement: Words, brother. I know you have them.

Yang finally snaps and snarls: You’re- you live here? You’re still here? But-

Her voice trails off and Young Raven pauses. For a moment her mask cracks and they can see she’s not handling this nearly as calmly as she appeared, then her mask is back in place and she gently runs a hand over Yang’s hair. She looks ... melancholy, “So you are going to have my hair when you grow up. That... well. That’s something.” She shakes her head and resumes herding them all to the guest cabin, “Yes. I live here. I ... stayed.” She shoots a look at the extremely quiet and withdrawn canon Tai and Qrow, “by my own choice. So stop beating yourself up over what you did and didn’t say. If your- if the other- if she left,” Raven grits out, “that was her mistake. No one else's.” She stands in the doorway as they’ve all filtered in and glares at the floor, “You can sort out the rooms however you please, we’ll deal with ... all this. In the morning. But for the love of the moon, keep any crisis you have down to a dull roar. I just got all the kids asleep.”

“Kids? Plural?” Tai manages to stumble out and younger Raven smirks briefly before sauntering out without an explanation.

Their brief stay in another dimension does not get any less weird.

Team RWBY get to meet bby Ruby and tiny gremlin Yang as well as a few tiny kids they don’t recognize that apparently Raven adopted off the street? Summer is alive so everyone is an emotion meeting her (and she them for obvious reasons) and NOBODY is sure what to make of young Ozpin, because he is clearly a part of the little clan here. He tolerates being nudged and hair-ruffled and flopped on by the other members of Team STORQ, he has a bright green mug for hot coco that has “1# Sad Wizard Man” sloppily written in marker on it, and the tiny children adoringly call him uncle and beg for stories when they aren’t staring at the dimension counterparts with huge eyes.

The two Qrow’s are prickly around each other, because not only is this weird ... younger Qrow is not nearly as much of an alcoholic as canon one. He’s ... happier. More grounded. You can tell and it’s a weird feeling on both sides to see the differences. Canon Tai is maybe having a tiny crisis because Raven STAYED???? There’s a world where Raven stayed. But RUBY IS A THING?

Other Tai, obliviously: Well yeah, she’s Qrow’s and Summer’s. Yang just calls her little sister because she always wanted one.

Canon Tai, Qrow, and Team RWBY: *dial up noises of incomprehension*

#SE asks #anon asks #Secret Engima Rambles #Always I Dreamed verse

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cuddlepilefics · 4 years ago

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could you pretty please with a cherry on top🥺🥺🥺 do a fic where felix from skz is a little and none of the others really know because he's really shy about it. While the group is out shopping they pass the baby section of the store and he sees a rattle he really likes. felix tries so hard not to slip in front of the members but when they get back home he like shuts himself in his room and closes off from the members. Bang chan or changbin (your choice cause i cant choose) notices how theyre acting and earlier saw him looking at the rattle so he buys it in secret for felix and then eventually felix has to come clean about being a little

i love your work but try to stay happy and healthy during these hard times in the world😊😊

Changbinnie-hyungie

Fandom: Stray Kids

Little: Felix

Caregivers: Stray Kids

No one’s POV.:

Stray Kids had just finished their dance practice for today and wanted to go for lunch together before splitting up for their individual schedules. They went to the food court of a close by mall, chattering while eating. When they were done eating, it turned out that they still had some time left before they’d have to be back at the company, so they decided to just visit some of the shops. Since they were quite many, they decided to split up as to not form a too large crowd. Felix wasn’t really looking for anything in particular, so he just trailed some random aisles to pass the time till the others were done or they had to get back to work. To his misfortune, the Aussie managed to end up in the baby section of the store. This was exactly what he had wanted to avoid. Felix was a little and being around toys and pacifiers often made him feel very young. It wouldn’t have been that much of a deal if his members knew about this. They could help him try to hide his secret from the public and get him home safely but they didn’t know. Not only needed the dancer keep up perfect appearances for the public, he also needed to hide his age regression from his friends, who knew him better than anyone and who would know something was up.

The Aussie turned on his heel, ready to make his escape when something caught his eyes. There on the middle shelf was a sky-blue baby rattle, decorated with a smiling sun. Not able to stop himself, he picked it up to get a better look, immediately smiling back at the sun. He gave the rattle a few light shakes and barely managed to suppress an excited squeal. Things like this always made him feel giddy. His exhaustion had vanished as he felt himself slowly slip into his headspace. He wasn’t fully little when a realization hit him and he quickly pulled himself together. He couldn’t be little now, people would find out, his friends would find out. If they couldn’t find out, that also meant Felix would have to walk out of this store without the pretty rattle he had discovered. Just the thought of it broke his heart but it couldn’t be helped and right when he put the rattle back onto the shelf, there was a loud voice a few steps away, startling him: “Hey, Lix! We’ve been looking everywhere for you. We really need to leave now or we’ll be late.” The Aussie nodded and walked stiffly towards Changbin, who ruffled his hair. Meeting up with their group, they went to the company building together before splitting up again into their units.

With one final smile, Changbin said good bye to Felix and followed Chan and Jisung to their production studio. As soon as the older was gone, the fake smile Felix had plastered on his face vanished. His anxiety was high after almost exposing himself at the store and to make matters worse, he still didn’t feel fully big. He was trapped somewhere in between, not fully big, not fully little. It was confusing and it made his head hurt. It usually wasn’t this bad when he felt like slipping because his little side was just a bouncy, giggly ball of cuteness and excitement, so nobody thought much of it. Today was different though. When he was little, Felix felt all emotions much stronger. That’s fine if he’s happy and excited but right now, his little side still mourned the rattle he couldn’t buy because he was too much of a coward to tell his friends. While Felix big self tried to be as professional as he somehow could, his little self was hurt and upset. Upset at himself for not being braver and getting himself what he wanted and scared that, should he ever find the courage to come out to his friends, the rattle would be sold out and he’d never see it again, never get to smile at the cute sun again and never get to hear the exciting sound it made.

The dance-line maknae felt his eyes burn and bit the inside of his cheeks to get his control back. He managed not to cry but his headache steadily got worse as the battle between little and big became more and more desperate. “Hey, you okay, Felix? You keep missing steps”, Hyunjin frowned. The younger nodded but the tears in his eyes betrayed him. Minho carefully guided him back to their bags and decided: “Let’s take five and have some water.” Felix slid down the wall next to his bag and buried his head in his hands. A futile attempt to hide the tears making their way down his freckled cheeks. His two hyungs had moved the bags around and now sat down on either side of him. “What’s wrong?”, Hyunjin tried again. Felix sniffled and rubbed at his face, admitting: “Head hurts.” Minho worriedly pressed his palm against the younger’s forehead to feel for a fever. Yeah, the Aussie was a bit warm but he had been dancing for a while. “You don’t have a fever. Did it just start to hurt or did you have a headache all day?”, the oldest dancer examined. “It started on the way back from lunch”, Felix replied, wiping his tears. The older two cringed in sympathy. During the short moment Felix had lifted his head, they had both seen the pain in his eyes and the slight furrow in his brows, indicating he was tense but trying not to show it.

Hyunjin pulled him into a comforting hug and Minho rubbed his back, asking: “Do you want to go back to the dorm to rest, Lixxie?” Being cared for by his hyungs, along with the use of his nickname made the Aussie feel incredibly soft. With that his little side won and he slipped, crying harder due to the increased sensibility. He nodded his head, if he didn’t speak, they’d hopefully not notice. Hyunjin pulled him to his feet and steadied him on their way back. Minho quickly threw everything into their bags and slung them over his shoulders, following the other two members. Felix remained quiet for the entirety of their walk. He let Hyunjin walk him to his bed, while he tried to pull himself out of littlespace. “Here, I got you some medicine and water. Do you need anything else?”, Minho smiled. Shaking his head, Felix managed to at least become big enough to talk to them properly. He thanked his hyung but assured them he’d just go to sleep and they could go back to the practice room. The older two were reluctant but they knew Felix would feel even worse if they stayed back from work for him. They said their good byes and told him to get some rest. With one final hair ruffle they were gone.

As soon as he heard the front door click, Felix slipped out of bed and locked the door to the room he shared with Chan and Changbin. Then he pulled out a box from his closet and retrieved cute yellow pacifier. Popping it into his mouth, he crawled back into bed and hugged his plushie. Not having to hold back anymore, he cried freely, sometimes rambling to his plushie explaining what a cute rattle he had seen and how happy he had been but that he’d never be able to get it. At some point, he had cried himself to sleep. When he woke up from his nap, he noticed a few missed calls and multiple texts from various members. He had still about two hours left till the others would come back, so he ignored the messages and huddled deeper into his fluffy blanket. Despite still being little, his thoughts had cleared up a bit, so he went on his phone and searched the internet. Maybe he could find the rattle online and get it delivered discreetly.

An hour later, that hope was also shattered and Felix threw his phone on his bed, tearing up again. It was almost another hour till his friends would get back and the little made a decision. He would tell the others about his littlespace and maybe he was lucky enough to be able to go buy himself that rattle that he yearned for so much tomorrow. Sitting down at his desk, he pulled out a blank paper and started writing with a purple crayon. He’d write down exactly what he was going to say, so he wouldn’t just forget everything and make it even more awkward. Covering the paper front and back, he included an explanation what littlespace was and his personal reasons why he needed to slip once in a while. When he was done, he was satisfied with the short speech but mostly he was nervous. Would they accept him? He heard the front door open and different voices chatter. Not to long after, there was a knock on his door before somebody tried to open it. “Lix, you okay?”, Chan asked, his voice muffled by the door. The younger pretended to be asleep, feeling a bit guilty for locking his hyung out of their shared room but he wasn’t ready to confront anyone yet.

Chan luckily bought it and decided to grant his dongsaeng some more sleep, if he was really feeling as poorly as Minho and Hyunjin had told him. The next time, he went to try the door was when he wanted to wake Felix for dinner. This time he wouldn’t just walk away again. If need be, he’d pick the lock but he needed to see with his own eyes that the younger was okay and just sleeping. That’s what he ended up doing and Felix barely managed to hide his pacifier under the pillow in time. Chan carefully sat down on the edge of the bed and when he saw the younger blinking up at him confused, he asked: “Hey, how are you doing mate?” Felix shrugged, not trusting his voice. “Dinner’s ready so I was going to wake you, plus if you sleep much more, you won’t be able to sleep tonight”, the leader explained. Felix cringed, he really didn’t want to face all his members and he was to nervous to stomach anything at the moment, so he asked: “Hyung, I really can’t eat right now. Can I stay here? I won’t go back to sleep, I promise.” He was almost fully big by now but that didn’t mean he’d want his members to see him. Chan sighed but nodded, not before settling that Felix would have to eat something later that evening and that he wouldn’t go to bed without dinner.

Felix listened closely and when he heard the table being cleared, he took a deep breath before exiting his room. If he didn’t jump over his shadow now, he’d never do it. “G-Guys, can – can I talk to you? All o-of you?”, he asked shakily. They nodded and gathered in the living room before Chan stopped him: “Changbin’s not here yet. He took a detour earlier and should be here soon. We should wait for him.” Felix nodded and bit his lip, growing more anxious as time passed. After what seemed like an eternity, the door swung open and Changbin gave them a confused look. He didn’t know there’d be a group meeting. He only kicked off his shoes before joining them and every step he took was accompanied by a weird noise. With trembling hands, Felix unfolded the note he had written and started to read it out. He was stuttering, stumbling over his words before pushing the paper into Chan’s hands, a silent plea for the older to continue. The leader complied and finished the short speech his dongsaeng had prepared. There was silence, except for Felix soft sniffles. Chan pulled him into a hug and assured him that it was fine and that he was grateful the younger had trusted them enough to open up about such a vulnerable thing. Seeing how much their silence scared the young Aussie, the others were quick to follow their leader’s example and tell their friend that they didn’t judge him for it.

When Felix had calmed down a bit, he was ready to answer their questions. “Yeah, when I try to suppress my need to slip, I get a really bad headache, which is what happened today. I didn’t think I could go on like this, so I needed to tell you”, he explained. Minho gave him a questioning look: “Are you little right now?” – “No, I’m not. Though I feel really close to slipping, just not yet. I was little earlier when you took me back home, that’s why for a while I wasn’t talking”, Felix replied. Hyunjin admitted: “I’m scared guys. He’s so cute already, I don’t think I could handle it if he was little.” That brought a smile to Felix face, happy that they had taken him the way he was. Changbin got up and made his way over to Felix. There was that weird noise again and when he reached for the pocket of his jacket, Felix could see it was bulging slightly. “I saw you looking at that rattle earlier at the store, you really liked it, right?”, the rapper asked, “Now I understand why you do. It makes you feel little.” Felix nodded, growing sad. He avoided the older’s eyes by looking at the floor. “Then it’s a good thing I went back and got it for you, hmm?”, Changbin smiled, pulling something from his pocket, “Your eyes were literally sparkling earlier but then you looked sad when we left, so I thought you must have really wanted it.”

Felix face lit up when Changbin handed him the toy he had been wishing for so badly. Looking at it again, he slipped in an instant. Beaming at the sun, painted on it, the little gave it a good shake and broke into giggles when it made the noise he liked so much. Changbin felt his heart beat faster and he smiled widely at the excited little in front of him. There were muffled squeals from the members around them, as they had to realize being little multiplied Felix cuteness. “Changbinnie-hyungie!!! TANK CHU!!!!”, the little squealed and threw himself into his hyung’s strong arms. Laughing, Changbin caught him and hugged back. The two stayed cuddled together, with Felix occasionally shaking his rattle, eyes wide and innocent, until Chan spoke up: “Cutie, can you let go of Binnie for a while?” – “Nuh! My Changbinnie-hyungie!” – “I’m not taking him away from you”, the oldest chuckled, “but I know that neither of you have eaten yet. You can cuddle again after.” Felix seemed to be thinking about it. “Come on, Lixxie. We saved you some fried chicken and Channie-hyungie is going to feed you. When Binnie is done eating and took that shower he has been looking forward to for hours, you can cuddle again.” – “Lixxie wan’ cuddle with Channgbinnie-hyungie and Channie-hyungie.” – “Okay baby. We will but first. Food?” – “Foowd”, Felix agreed before being picked up by his hyung.

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86-was-his-year · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Not Letting You Go| E.W. (Spoilers for Part 2!!)

Summary: You won’t Ellie go on this mission by herself even if everyone else tells you no.

Warnings: Mentions of Death (Spoilers), Swearing, PTSD mentions, Ellie being mad but being cute at the same time, little nsfw (oops) a lot of angst like no joke

A/N: I loved The Last of Us Part 2 (Most of it anyway) and I wanted to show more love to Ellie cause nobody writes about her and I need it for my bi-sexual ass.

The snow gathered thickly around the edge of the small mansion that we followed the horse tracks to. Shimmer was wandering around the area aimlessly and I knew Ellie was still here, Shimmer would never leave without her. They’ve bonded over these couple of years and I know Ellie would be upset if anything happened to her.

“Guys, I found Shimmer! Search the fence for a way in!” I yelled to Jesse and Dina while looking around the area to see if there were any openings on the bottom of the fence. A pile of bodies were around the beginning of the fence and I didn’t doubt that was the expert work of either Tommy or Joel. Maybe they got caught in the storm and had to find a way to keep themselves from freezing to death.

I followed the faint tracks and it led to a little opening in the fence. Maybe Ellie took this way and had the same idea. Maybe she was warming up by the fire with Joel and Tommy while they just waited out the storm. I know that Joel and Ellie haven’t been in the best of places but I also know that she was trying to forgive him. I kept thinking back to the day at the hospital.

I was waiting for my surgery and he burst open the door in front of me. He looked me up and down and saw the large bite and cysts on my ankle, just under my blue hospital gown.

“Please take me with you. Please I don’t want to die.” He looked at me and nodded.

“Do you know how to get out of this damn place?” We wondered through the halls and checked every room. The alarms began to get louder and louder, they were alerting everyone that we were escaping. I didn’t want to go back, I over heard them talking and they were going to kill her and me just because we didn’t turn. The world didn’t deserve our help, the world deserves to burn.

“You have to take a left here and then a right. There’s an elevator at the end of the hall and it leads to a parking garage on the bottom floor we can get a car and get the fuck outta here.”

It wasn’t hard to get to the garage but it was hard to see Marlene standing there with a gun pointed at Joel. I shimmied myself behind him and gripped onto his shirt. I watched and listened as Marlene tried to convince Joel to let us go. She was explaining the logistics of taking two young girls on a trip across the country as if she knew where we were going.

I saw the handle of his gun glint off the light and it sparked something in me that I had never felt before. I wanted to protect Joel and Ellie, there was only a matter of time before the rest of the fireflies alive would come after us and all of this would be for nothing. The handle was cold in my hand I took three quick steps to the right and shot straight at Marlene. She fell to the ground as she started groaning in pain.

“Get to the car now.” He jogged to this truck and opened the back door urging me in before stuffing Ellie in along with me. “I’ll be back.” He slammed the door and walked over to Marlene. I put Ellie's head on my lap and began to stroke her hair. I jumped in my seat as I heard a single gunshot and I knew this would be all in the past.

“Ellie!” The back door was open and the blinds were rustling uncontrollably. The snow crunched behind me and I drew my gun turning around way too fast for my brains liking. Dina and Jesse were standing there with their hands up and I turned back around without any regard for them. I needed to find them and make sure they were okay. Part of me had this silent dread built inside, they would never leave the door open like that.

“Ellie!” I took off immediately, searching every room and every closet that I could see, I had to find them. Dina and Jesse were going back to check if I missed anything in my haste to find them. My search was turning up empty all the closets were empty and all the rooms were turning up blank, they were no where to be seen. I walked into the kitchen, the last room that needed to be checked and found an open door. I looked down and immediately ran down the steps. I flung the door open and took in the sight before me.

“Oh my God.” I looked down at the lifeless body by the blood splattered window. I watched Joel leave in those clothes this morning. Ellie was at my feet knocked out cold with blood running down her face, she was here. Did they make her watch as they killed her or did she get here and attempt to fight back after the fact?

“T-They’re down here!” I slid down to my knees and dropped my gun to the side. Ellie was shifting around and groaning in pain. Her face was banged up but her nose wasn’t crooked so that meant it wasn’t broken, at least from my slim amount of doctor knowledge. As Ellie shifted herself awake I grabbed her head and brought it into my lap, I knew this was going to be a shit storm when she woke up so I wanted to comfort her while I could.

“Fuck!” Jesse walked down the stairs and went to check his body, there was blood all over the window and his coat wasn’t moving up and down with soft methodical breaths. It was the one notion that would tell us that he was alive and it gave us no sign. I could feel my chest tighten up as I en-graved the image of Joel into my brain. All the times that he helped me overcome something, all the times he spent cracking jokes with Ellie and me when we had bad dreams, It all was ruined in this moment. I would never get to see him again.

“No.” I looked down to see Ellie turning her head to look at Joel.

“Ellie don’t look.” I pulled her face away and made her look at me.

“I had to see it. I could’ve done something.” Her tears ran down her face and I felt my heart clench in my chest. I sat her up and held her to my chest rocking her back and forth as I let myself sob over my loss.

I held his shirt between my fingers, the warmth was leaving it but the smell was everything I needed. It was the last thing he wore before that day, he had coffee in this shirt, he played guitar for me in this shirt, and I couldn’t help but think that I’ll never have those moments with him again. I’ve stayed in his bed this past week, I’ve only moved to take a shower and eat a little bit of food.

People have been knocking on the door trying to give me casseroles and get well soon cards but I didn’t need their sympathy, it won’t make me get back what I’ve lost. Ellie hasn’t come by yet and I really don’t want to see her face right now, I’ve spent so much time watching her and Joel bond every time she would crack a little joke she would try to include me. I took a whiff of his coat and let out a sob, my heart was clenching and my chest was tightening in on me, Its felt like I couldn’t breathe these last few days and it won’t go away.

The door rattled and my eyes shot open, I didn’t want to see anyone right now. Maybe it was Maria coming to see if I would clear his stuff out and move away, or maybe it was Tommy trying to get any info that could lead him to the killers. He said one of them was Abby and they were from the Washington Liberation Front but I couldn’t care right now. The steps up the stairs were rhythmic and soft, but I couldn’t rule out that they were going to kill me, like they did to Joel.

I grabbed the gun form under my pillow and shot up out of bed only to see Ellie looking at me and the look on her face utterly and completely destroyed me. The tears ran down my face harder and I could see the war going on between her eyes. I lowered the gun and put it back under my pillow before turning over and gripping onto the shirt again.

“You know he used to lay with me when I had bad dreams?” My eyes were hot and puffy from crying, my nose was clogged with snot, my cheeks were wet and sticky, and my throat was hoarse from screaming into nothing. I couldn’t stop crying it was like my body was just acting on its own and I couldn’t pull back the tears or the sobs anymore.

“He would, wouldn’t he?” She walked closer and sat on the edge of the bed. Her hand rested on my ankle and I felt myself flinch back, she knew about my bite mark long ago but it never stopped me from trying to hide it. Her fingers brushed the edge of my leggings away and rubbed the raised area of my bite.

“Yeah, when I would scream at night he would be there as soon as I woke up. His pajamas were always so cute, little blue pajama pants and a graphic t-shirt. I would dream about us dying.” I pulled the shirt closer to me and listened to the sound of Ellie breathing.

“I remember when we found those. We got it for his birthday right? Not exactly designer but it was something.” She took her hand away and my heart dropped as she broke contact. I thought she was going to leave me to just cry my eyes out. I would like to think she would have come earlier but I didn’t tell anyone I was here so I doubt she knew.

“You know you could’ve told me where you were.” She crawled up on the bed and made her way over to me. She really is able to read my mind sometimes, even if I din’t like it. I moved the shirt and let her lay down next to me, the bed springs squeaking with age.

“I’m surprised he even made his bed.” I ran my hands across the now ruffled sheets and smiled.

“I know a hardened survivor and he does house chores.” She put her hand next to mine and we just stayed there.

“He wanted to do right by you. He didn’t mean to lie but he wasn’t wrong.” I ran my hand down her arm and across her chemical burn. She did it when first got here God, the smell was in her room for weeks. Burning skin and chemicals mixed horribly and I can just remember Joel’s face when he walked in to her screaming.

“I know. I just wish you guys would have told me sooner.”

“Ellie!” The jolting of the horse wavered my voice as it ricocheted off the tall buildings. We knew where she would go, it’s where she always talked about going back and finding out the truth about what happened to us.

“There she is!” Joel urged his horse into a gallop and I followed him closely. Shimmer was standing next to Ellie as she looked through her bag. “Stay here, kiddo.” He hopped off his horse and I let them talk. I could hear her crying as she gripped her chest. Of course she was hurt I mean I would be too, if I didn’t know the truth.

She refused to talk to me for weeks but we grew up together and of course I knew how to make her talk. I brought her new music and a bunch of new movies which I totally almost got my face ripped off for. She laid her head on my shoulder and ranted about how she felt and it was good. She finally opened up to me and I felt how she felt.

“You knew the whole time? Why didn’t you just tell me?” She took her head off of my shoulder and turned on the couch. The pain in her eyes was real but there was something different swirling in those beautiful emeralds.

“I wanted you to trust Joel. He lied to protect you. He knew that if he told you the truth he wouldn’t have you anymore and I know how much that tears him up. He loves you, Ellie.” I put my hand on her arm and watch her process this.

“Jesus, you sound so grown up.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. She chuckled and looked back at me.

“You Missy, should know more about anyone else about growing up way too fast.” I poked her should and she fell back on the couch.

“Oh yeah?” She got back up and flung herself onto me. It knocked me off balance and I fell back, pulling both of us down to the floor. I landed on top of her and started laughing.

“Oh shit, still got the upper hand!” She grabbed my arm and pushed me over. She brought my arms above my head and pinned them there.

“Now who’s got the upper hand hm?” She brought one of her hands down to my face and traced my features.

“Looks like I’m your prisoner.” I tried wiggling out of her grasp and found that I really couldn’t. “What are you gonna do to me?” There was a taunt to my voice and a smile stretched across her face. My heart was racing too fast to be normal, not normal with Ellie though. Sometimes I would look at Jesse and get these butterflies but only with him. I mean that fucker was way too handsome for his own good.

“I had a couple of ideas.” She shrugged the best she could with one shoulder and brought her thumb to run across my bottom lip. It was something that I never thought I would experience not with Ellie at least. She slowly leaned forward and planted her lips on mine. I’ve had my first kiss already so it wasn’t a new feeling to me. This kid I knew back in a QZ liked me and I liked him so we kissed and then he said I had cooties so that was that.

This kiss was something different, not only because Ellie knew what she was doing but because there was something actually there. Her lips were wet with spit, hers or mine I really couldn’t tell but it didn't matter we locked our lips together and it feels like neither of us wanted to go. It wasn’t fast or rushed we were just intertwined, we took our time and never really wanted to leave. But alas we need air to breathe so she pulled away and leaned against my forehead.

“I think your sentence has been carried out dutifully and therefore, I’m letting you out on good behavior. She let go of my wrist but pulled me up with her. I could feel my lips and they were swollen, I can’t imagine what they look like though. My heart was still racing and the butterflies were still knocking around in my sternum.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” This time I leaned my head on her shoulder and we just rested there watching the movies last seconds. The hero spares the villain and lets him go with the promise of never returning.

“The jury’s still out on that one but I’ll get back to you.”

“Whatcha thinking about?” Ellie pulled me away from my fantasies and I smiled. I sat up and quickly rolled on top of her, grabbing her hands and putting them into the pillows that Joel so carefully made.

“Got the upper hand now didn’t I?” I cocked an eyebrow at her and watched as her eyes swirled with amusement.

“Are you threatening an officer miss?” She put on her best cop voice and put her head to the side.

“And if I am?” I leaned closer and closer with each word. I could feel her hot breath on my cheek and I bit the corner of my lip.

“I guess I’ll,” She grunted with effort but easily turned me over, “have to take you prisoner.” She was straddling me now and I felt all those feelings come back for the first time in years. I never forgot about them, no, but I let them go only because I wanted Ellie to have someone else. Someone better than me.

“Officer please!” I mocked the ladies in the old horror movies and put on my best damsel in distress voice.

“Can’t get out of this one that easy, sugar.” It’s embarrassing to say but I felt arousal pool on the inside of my underwear. Hearing her call me a pet name was all I needed to finally lean up and try to connect my lips with hers. She leaned back and smirked a bit before slowly leaning down.

I finally had what I was missing all these years, her lips on mine once again. The rush in my stomach all came back at once and I let out a tiny whine as I tried to move my arms. She pulled away and looked down at me, shock turning to wonder and then smugness.

“You got a cute set of pipes on you. Let’s hear you use them.” She whispered the last part in my ear and I let out a big breath. This girl was going to torture me, all I wanted was to feel her lips on mine again and she was trying to take detours.

“Ellie? Are you in here?” She shot up in alarm before relaxing.

“Coming Maria!” She looked at me and scrunched her nose. “We aren’t finished yet.” She pointed between the two of us and fixed her hair.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Officer.” I blew a kiss and watched as she rolled her eyes before leaving. I sighed and turned over to find the shirt no where to be found. I could feel my calming heart pick up it’s pace again. I threw myself off the bed and found that it wasn’t under me. I searched under the pillows and under the bed sheets.

“No, no, no!” I frantically looked at the foot of the bed and finally dropped to my knees in defeat.Tears welled in my eyes and that made it even harder to see while I searched for the prized possession. I felt my hands around the ground and a piece of fabric ran under my fingers. I snatched it and brought it close to me, looking at it and then smelling it. It was his alright.

“Y/N?” Ellie was in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest, her stance meaning she was closing off again. Once I looked up at her and she saw the tears rolling down my cheeks and the shirt wrinkled between my fingers she dropped her arms and came to me. “Come on, get on up.” She gently grabbed my arms and got me off the floor, sitting me on the manhandled bed sheets.

“I thought I lost it.” I leaned my head into her chest and sobbed. I couldn’t hold back anymore, I needed him here not in the ground.

“I know kid, I know.”

We slept there, in his bed. It felt just normal to sleep with her by my side but I kept dreaming about him. Seeing his blood all over the window and on the ground. I kept imaging his final moments, did he say his last words to Ellie? Did he say that he loved her like he always wanted to? He talked about the way that he would do it but I guess he never really got around to telling her.

I heard him pleading in my mind. He was begging me to help him, yelling in pain as they hit in with the golf club. Ellie told me that’s what they used but she really didn’t want to talk about it anymore so I didn’t make her. I was in the room as a ghost the faceless people talking to Joel about who knows what. I couldn’t see their faces or hear their voices but I watched them hit him endlessly and brutally.

My eyes opened and tears were already piling up onto my pillow. I guess I was crying in my sleep, wouldn’t put it past me. The bed was cold behind me and I shot up, looking around the dark room for where Ellie went. She was sitting on the chest by the end of the bed while putting her shoes on.

“Ellie?” She jumped at the sound of my voice but looked back at me. Her demeanor seemed angry or distraught.

“What are you doing up?” She pulled her pant leg down and stood up. She had the same clothes that she had on yesterday which wasn’t a surprise. We didn’t get to go home and change and I really didn’t want to leave.

“I had a bad dream, where are you going?” I sat up and took the blanket off of my body. The leggings I wore were becoming sweaty and twisted around my legs but I dealt with it and picked up my shoes from the edge of the bed.

“Nowhere, you can lay back down Y/N. I’ll see you in the morning.” She got up and moved towards the edge of the bed to sit down next to me.

“Why do I feel like I won’t?” I laced up my boots and looked at her, “You’re going after them aren’t you?” I stood up and went to Joel’s closet picking out a random shit before throwing it on over my tank top. I looked around the closet to see if there was anything else that I could use. His backpack was just sitting there no use for it so I took it over my shoulder and walked towards Ellie.

“You shouldn’t come. I don’t want you hurt.” She put her hand on my cheek and looked into my eyes.

“This is my fight just as much as it is yours. I’m coming with you Ellie.” I held her wrist and leaned my head against her hand.

“Alright. Maria said I can leave on Shimmer but I guess I could spare some room than bring you along. For Joel.” She pulled me closer and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

“For Joel.”

#Ellie Williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #Joel Miller #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #the last of us part 2 spoilers

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ivarthebadbitch · 4 years ago

Text

Strange things can happen

Chapter 14 summary: Ragnar makes an offer.

Canon divergent, everybody lives, arranged marriage AU after 4x14. Read this chapter on Ao3.

Previous chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

On Ao3: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

Pairings: Ivar x OC, Ivar vs. basically everyone

Warnings: None

Word count: 2153

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @nukyster-blog @bae-roman @adhdnightmare @danisnotsosecret (if you would like to be tagged, let me know)

Notes: This week’s chapter is out a little early, BUT I have at last officially fallen behind, so no post for next week. Sorry for the delay, but we are actually closing in on the end here...probably going to end up around 17-18ish chapters total.

CHAPTER 14: A reasonable proposition

Under any other circumstance, Ivar would have been thrilled to be reunited with his father and Ubbe. But from one look at their faces as Aethelwulf hastily ushered them into King Ecbert’s study, it was painfully clear why they had come. As all eyes turned in his direction, it was also obvious that he was in a considerable amount of trouble.

“King Ecbert,” Ragnar acknowledged first with a nod. Then he turned to look at him. “Ivar,” he said in a tone that made his blood run cold.

“Father,” Ivar answered, trying to keep his voice from wavering. He could feel himself shrinking under his gaze.

Ragnar put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed hard enough to make him flinch. “Was there something you forgot to tell me about, boy?” he asked in Norse in a deceptively pleasant tone. “Something important with regards to your marriage?”

He looked away as shame flooded through him once again. Ragnar let out a humorless laugh and slapped him on the back. “I’ll have words with you later,” his father murmured in his ear. “There will be plenty of time for us to talk on the trip back to Kattegat.”

With that, Ragnar turned away to talk to Ecbert, and Ubbe stepped forward with a guilty look on his face. It was obvious what he had done.

“Traitor,” Ivar muttered before his brother could speak, smacking away his hand as he attempted to ruffle his hair. “Fuck you.”

Ubbe looked momentarily wounded, but then he leaned down to speak in Ivar’s ear. “I’m here to help get you out of this mess, you idiot,” he said quietly. “Just go along with what we tell you to do and we’ll all get out of this alive and you can go home.”

“Everything was going fine until you showed up,” Ivar snapped, even though that hadn’t exactly been the case for the past forty eight hours or so.

Ubbe scoffed at him and shook his head in disbelief. “What did I just say? Don’t be stupid. Father and I will sort this out.” Ivar rolled his eyes, but Ubbe was not done. “Really, Ivar? You didn’t tell Father before the marriage?”

“Shut up,” Ivar said through gritted teeth. “Looks like you were happy to tell him, though.”

“I had no choice!”

“I had no choice!” Ivar repeated in a mocking imitation. He leaned forward. “Why are you here anyway? You didn’t have to come with Father.” Then it dawned on him. “Unless…”

Now Ubbe looked especially uncomfortable. He took a step back, but not far enough to put himself beyond Ivar’s reach. Ivar immediately launched himself at Ubbe, sending both of them and the chair clattering to the floor. He managed to get in a couple good punches before Ragnar swooped in and dragged him off, smacking his head against the edge of the table with such force that he saw stars.

He gazed up at his father in a daze as Ubbe got up and brushed himself off, rubbing his jaw where Ivar had hit him. To the side, he briefly registered Ecbert and Aethelwulf staring at him with their mouths wide open before Ragnar grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in close enough for Ivar to feel the heat of his breath.

“Control yourself, or I’ll make you wish you’d never been born,” Ragnar snarled. Without loosening his grip on Ivar, he looked over his shoulder at Ecbert and smiled. “King Ecbert, we have important matters to discuss, and my son Ivar is very tired. Perhaps he can take some rest in his room while we talk. He may rejoin us once he is capable of behaving himself.”

“A good plan,” Ecbert said, and motioned for the guards to come forward.

Ivar nearly blacked out as Ragnar relinquished his grip and gave him over to the guards, who draped his arms over his shoulders and pulled him into a standing position. “Father, wait, I can explain—” he pleaded, but they were already hauling him out to the hallway and back to his room with his feet dragging uselessly across the floor.

The room was empty and dark. The guards dropped Ivar on the bed and walked out without a word, shutting the door firmly behind them. He heard the click of the key turning in the lock and his heart suddenly filled with despair. He would be sent back to Kattegat in disgrace and he would never see Aldreda again. She would marry Ubbe in his place and forget all about him. Somehow the thought of that hurt more than anything.

He knew he should be angry with her. She had told Ecbert his secret, after all, and he wasn’t about to forgive her for that. It was a betrayal, pure and simple, and at any rate, forgiveness was something Christians did. He should be furious.

He found he didn’t want to be angry with her.

Ivar sat back on the bed and exhaled slowly. He was used to being angry about all sorts of things, of course. That was the way he had always been, ever since he was a small child. It had never occurred to him that he didn’t have to be. The thought was oddly liberating. He felt the sudden urge to tell Aldreda about his revelation, until he remembered she probably didn’t want to talk to him.

He flopped on his back with a groan and stared at the ceiling. Ubbe was right—he was an idiot, though not for the reasons his brother supposed him to be. He really had made a mess of things with Aldreda. At this stage, it was hard to see a way to fix it, especially with his father now breathing down his neck along with everyone else. For the first time in weeks, he felt unbearably alone. He didn’t want to cry again as he had in front of Aldreda after she told him she asked for the annulment—he was a man, and men were supposed to be stronger than that. But if nobody was around to witness it, then maybe it was all right.

In the fading evening light, he curled up on his side and wept until he fell asleep.

With his wayward son momentarily dealt with, Ragnar settled in at the table with Ecbert, Aethelwulf, and Ubbe. The journey to Wessex had been full of bad weather and various mishaps, and they were fortunate to have arrived intact, if a little worse for wear. He glanced briefly at Ubbe, who was gazing around Ecbert’s study with his mouth hanging open slightly, and he cuffed him on the back of the head. “Don’t gawk,” he muttered. “Pay attention.”

Ubbe rubbed his head. “You know I don’t understand English, Father,” he said reproachfully.

“Pay attention anyway.” Ragnar leaned back in his chair and turned his focus to the Saxons with a smile. “King Ecbert. After I returned to Kattegat, certain information came to my attention about my son Ivar regarding his suitability for marriage to...to…” by the gods, what was the girl’s name? “—your granddaughter. Believe me, I proposed our agreement in good faith and had no intention to deceive you.”

Aethelwulf scoffed and turned to Ecbert, shaking his head. “My lord, you cannot take this heathen at his word.”

“Oh, can’t I? If my friend and ally Ragnar Lothbrok truly meant to deceive us, then why would he return now? Anyway, this confirms what the boy told me.” Ecbert said. He looked back at Ragnar. “Your timing is fortuitous. Just this morning, my granddaughter came to me to request an annulment, citing Ivar’s, ah, difficulty. It is a most unfortunate situation for everyone. If the marriage cannot be consummated, then it must be dissolved so Aldreda can be free to marry another, and Ivar is free to...well, free to do other things. This, sadly, also has implications for our trade agreement.”

“Of course,” Ragnar answered. He gestured to Ubbe. “Fortunately, my son Ubbe has a proposition. In order to maintain our agreement, Ubbe will marry your granddaughter and take Ivar’s place while Ivar returns with me to Kattegat. As you can see, Ubbe is handsome and in good health, and besides, he has many fine qualities.”

Aethelwulf raised an eyebrow. “Forgive my skepticism, but what fine qualities might your son possess? Because I seem to recall being told something similar the last time around.”

“Ah.” Ragnar scratched his head and regarded his son for a moment. “Well, I do not like to speak for him. In time, Ubbe will demonstrate to you his fine qualities. Of which he has many. I assure you.”

“No doubt,” Aethelwulf answered coldly, but Ecbert was already nodding and looking Ubbe up and down in approval.

“I find this to be a reasonable proposition,” Ecbert said at last.

Aethelwulf turned and looked at him in dismay. “Father, surely you cannot agree to this so hastily,” he protested. “Ivar and Aldreda have only been married for a little while, and though I understand your concerns, they are young and there is plenty of time for them to consummate the marriage. It would be less disruptive to simply wait, rather than rushing into things again.”

Ecbert let out a low chuckle. “Why, and here I thought you despised the boy!”

Aethelwulf reddened. “I admit I did not approve of this marriage at the beginning. But I believe Ivar means to do right by my daughter, and it is only fair to give him and Aldreda that chance.”

“Ivar attempted to run away,” Ecbert reminded him. “He suborned a priest and stole your late wife’s necklace in the process. This happened two nights ago.”

“Well, yes, but…”

Ragnar stared at both of them. “I’m sorry, Ivar did what?”

Ecbert waved his hand. “Oh, it’s a long story; I’ll tell you later. The boy was not harmed, I can assure you of that.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully for a moment. “But to return to your proposal, I must say that Aethelwulf has a point. The circumstances that led to my granddaughter’s marriage to your son Ivar were very rushed. I blame myself for this. We were simply carried away by our shared enthusiasm, and this regrettable situation might have been avoided if we had been more deliberate. But now we have the chance to do things properly.”

Ragnar glanced at Ubbe, who was looking back and forth between Ecbert and Aethelwulf with a confused look on his face. “They are agreeable for the most part; otherwise, we’d be sitting in chains in the dungeon right now,” he murmured in Norse to his son. He turned back to Ecbert and smiled. “Yes. Everything shall be done properly,” he agreed. “So long as it is done.”

Aethelwulf drummed his fingers on the table irritably. “I am still of the opinion that Aldreda and Ivar should have more time to work things out between them, but I know my opinion means little in this company. However, before things proceed further, I must insist that certain conditions be met.”

“Reasonable conditions, my son,” Ecbert murmured. “We are all reasonable men here.”

Aethelwulf glared at him. “Eminently reasonable. My lord king.” He turned back to Ragnar and Ubbe. “First, if your son Ubbe is to marry Aldreda, she must find him an acceptable match. I do not wish to see her dragged unwillingly to the altar for the second time in less than two months. My other condition is that I require Ubbe to be baptized before the marriage can proceed.”

Ragnar looked at Ubbe and sighed. “He says his daughter must agree to the match, and that he wishes for you to become a Christian,” he explained.

To his surprise, Ubbe shrugged. “That is an understandable request,” he said. “Tell them I am willing to do it.”

“You’d renounce the gods?” Ragnar asked. “Some might call you a traitor. You’ll never be allowed to return to Kattegat.”

“Well, you were baptized before, weren’t you? The gods haven’t struck you down yet. Anyway, we must demonstrate to the Saxons that we are serious about the alliance.”

Ragnar gave a little sarcastic laugh. “Ah, poor Ubbe. Sacrificing yourself in order to marry a princess.”

That earned him a look of irritation from his son. “Just tell them, Father. We came all this way for a reason. Let’s not throw this opportunity away.”

“As you wish.” He turned to Ecbert and Aethelwulf. “My son agrees.”

Aethelwulf stared at him in dismay. “He...he agrees?”

The stunned look on Aethelwulf’s face almost made the entire trip worth it. Ragnar grinned. “Wonderful. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, perhaps you might introduce Ubbe to your daughter? I’d like to discuss our trade agreement with my good friend and ally King Ecbert. There are a few details I wish to refine…”

#vikings #ivar the boneless #fanfiction #fic: strange things can happen

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