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damallarky · 7 months ago

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So nothing gets me out of a ten year writer's slump like Dragon Age, apparently. I was going to write a quick character study for my Rook, but then it took a life of its own and turned into a 5000+ word monstrosity.

You can also read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57135346

Anyway, my first fic in ten years. Enjoy!

At the Black Swan tavern in Minrathous, an elven man with bright red hair sat on a massive barrel, tuning a lute. At first glance, it would appear that he was entirely engrossed in the instrument. If they paid close attention, however, they would notice his green eyes dart imperceptibly from guest to guest as if taking stock of each person who entered the tavern.

To be fair, this was exactly what Renan was doing. The Shadow Dragons had been given a tip that the Venatori were having a meeting here tonight. He had been given instructions to keep an eye on them, make a note of how many attended, and if there was anyone there he recognized.

Ren was good at that, using his talent at the lute, voice, and good looks to get him information, and he used his particular skill set often. Sometimes, he played in chamber halls and ballrooms of the Minrathous elite, and they were goldmines, to be sure. But if he was honest, he preferred the establishments of the working class. One would be surprised at how much information could be gained at the taverns and brothels of the world.

Even better, Ren was familiar with this particular tavern, having played here countless times before.

‘See anything good yet, Hope?’ He thought through the bond to his spirit companion, currently flitting between the rafters somewhere. He thought he had caught a glimpse of black feathers once or twice, but he couldn’t be sure.

‘No. Not yet.’ He heard her say.

Suddenly, in his mind’s eye, he saw the vision of a mouse cleaning itself on one of the rafters, not noticing the great, winged beast lurking in the shadows a mere foot away.

‘Hope…’, Ren moaned internally, ‘I just fed you.’

‘Well, yes… But I am still hungry.’

‘Well, I don’t want to find puked-up mouse bones on my pillow tonight. Again.'

‘Ugh. Fine.’ Hope grumbled.

Ren could practically feel the eye roll from his companion, and he struggled to keep his face neutral. He was halfway through tuning a string to A when his own stomach began to grumble. He hadn’t had much to eat today, or at all, what little he did have going to fill his daughter Esana’s belly.

‘Maybe I should catch a mouse for you to eat.’ He heard Hope say.

‘Thanks, but no…’

‘When was the last time you ate?’

‘In the morning.’

‘Which morning?’

‘…’

‘Renan…’

‘…Yesterday.’

‘RENAN.’

Ren winced against the shrill voice echoing in his head. A man sitting at a table nearby gave him an odd look, to which Ren responded with a sheepish wave.

“Lute strings!” He said in way of explanation. “They don’t make them like they used to.”

The man merely grunted and went back to his tankard.

‘Look, Hope.’ He said. ‘I promise I will get something to eat tonight after we’re through.’

‘I will hold you to that, Renan.’

The tavern began to fill in earnest as more workers ended their day shift. Amongst the crowd, Ren noticed a group of shifty-eyed men gathering at a nondescript table closer to the back of the bar. It had probably the worst lighting in the entire tavern, but the darkness made it particularly well suited for those who maybe didn’t want to be watched too closely, such as lovers…. Or secretive organizations.

Interesting…

‘Is Esana still in our room?’ Ren asked as he tuned a string to E flat.

‘Yes,’ came Hope’s reply, ‘She was asleep when I left. Why?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t want a repeat of last time, where she snuck out for an entire hour without anyone noticing after I explicitly told her not to?’

‘Ah, yes. Wherever does your daughter get her complete and utter disregard for authority? It is truly a mystery for the ages.’

Ren couldn’t help but laugh at that. Hope had become quite adept at using sarcasm over the years.

‘Fair.’ He said. ‘I suppose she does come by it naturally.’

‘What is that mortal saying about apples and trees?’

‘Har har. Alright you made your point.’

Out of the corner of his eye, Ren saw a man walk in that he recognized. The thin, balding man was a Magister, albeit a low-ranking one. Ren couldn’t remember what the man actually did in the Magisterium, exactly, only that it was something asinine.

Asinine or note, that didn’t explain what he was doing here, of all places. The Black Swan was a little too plebeian for most Magisters.

‘Well, well.’ He thought ‘Look who’s slummin’ it up with the rest of us. Interesting.’

‘That is the man in charge of grain tax collection!’ He heard Hope say.

‘He is?’ Ren asked. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Because I pay attention, Renan.’

‘Oh… Well, I’m glad one of us does…’

Ren’s interest peaked even further as he watched as the magister walk to the back, taking a seat at the table with the group Ren had noticed earlier.

Very interesting…

‘Alright, it looks like the Venatori dinner party has started. Table in the back.’ He said. ‘Let’s get to work, shall we?’

‘We shall. Good luck, Ren.’

‘You as well, Hope.’

Ren walked up the stairs to the small stage at the front of the bar. With a bright grin, he played the first few notes of the song on his lute and began to sing.

“Oh, come along with me, love.

Come along with me.

Come for one night and be my wife.

And come along with me.”

While still playing the notes to the chorus on the lute, Ren stopped singing to address the crowd.

“Grata! Bienviedo! Welcome good people of Minrathous.” He said. “My name is Rook, and I am here to add a little song to your evening. But enough with the pleasantries! The night is young, and I don’t know about you lot, but I am far, far too sober!”

His grin broadened as the crowd began to laugh and cheer. Ren heard a few of them shout, “Here, here!” and his playing grew stronger as he egged the crowd on further.

“So, let’s raise a glass,” Ren crowed, “and let the night of drinking and debauchery begin!”

And, with that, he began to sing once more, his voice strong and clear.

“Well it is of a jolly butcher, as you might plainly see,

As he roved out one morning in search of company.

He went into a tavern and a fair girl he did see

And said ‘Come for one night and be my wife,

Oh come along with me!’”

Ren jumped off of the stage and began to weave in and around the tables as he continued his song.

“He called for liquor of the best

And he made such fortune play

‘Come have a drink, it'll make us think

That it is our wedding day’”

‘I cannot hear them, Renan.’ He heard Hope’s voice say in his head as he played. ‘Distract them so I can fly down and slip underneath their table.’

Ren began to maneuver himself to the back of the bar, stopping every so often to play at another table to make it look less conspicuous. He danced around a waitress as she was carrying mugs of ale, giving her a bright smile that made her blush prettily. Finally, he stopped at the Venatori’s table, placing his foot on the edge of the table top with a thunk. Balancing his lute on his knee while he played, he leaned forward and winked at the Magister, who fumed. So focused were they all at the elf and his sheer audacity, that they didn’t notice the small black figure silently fly down from the rafters, dodge the various foot traffic, and tiptoe underneath the table.

‘I made it, Ren!’ Hope crowed, triumphantly.

Ren beamed at the crowd and continued his song.

“Well, he called for a candle to light their way to bed

And when he had her in the room these words to her he said

‘A sovereign I will give to you for to embrace your charms.’

And all that night, that fair young maid lied in the butcher's arms.

Oh, come along with me, love

Come along with me!

Come for one night and be my wife

And come along with me.

Well, about one year later he went roving out once more,

And he went into the tavern where he'd often been before.

He wasn't in there very long when his fair maid he did see,

And she brought forth a baby three months old and placed it on his knee.”

Some of the crowd began to chuckle as they realized where the song was going. Ren’s playing picked up in volume as he reached the punch line.

“And when he saw the baby, he began to curse and swear

And he said unto that fair young maid, ‘Why did you bring him here?!’

‘Well, he is your own, kind sir’, she said, ‘Do not think me strange

Well, that sovereign that you gave to me, well I gives you back your change!’”

The crowd burst into raucous laughter, and Ren couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as he finished the song.

“Oh, come along with me, love

Come along with me!

Come for one night and be my wife

And come along with me!”

With a flourish he played the last few chords as the crowd’s laughter turned into applause. He gave a bow, and as he stood back up he saw a flash of red dart through the crowd.

“Dammit.” He muttered.

‘What happened?’ He heard Hope ask. He turned to the crowd.

“Thank you! You have been a wonderful audience!” Ren exclaimed. “Don’t forget to tip your waitresses! If you need me, I’ll be by the bar.”

The crowd quickly went back to their food and drink, and Ren made a beeline for the bar.

‘I thought you said Esana was sleeping.’ He demanded through the bond.

‘She was!’ The spirit replied. ‘I thought she was. Oh! But she might have been faking, now that I think about it. The snoring was a bit too loud.’

To which Ren could only groan.

The Maker had to have it out for him. That was the only explanation.

‘Don’t move, Hope.’ He said. ‘Keep listening in on the Venatori. I want to have something to report back to the Dragons before the night is over.’

“Only one song tonight, Rook?” Asked one of the waitresses, Rosa, as she carried a tray full of food and drink.

“Can’t be helped, Rosa.” He said as he approached the bar. The barkeeper, a jovial older man with a wiry frame and bright eyes named Julius, poured him a glass of water with a knowing grin.

“Loose something?” He asked.

“Ugh.” Was Ren’s articulate response. Julius only laughed as Ren downed the water in one gulp before setting the glass back down on the counter with a thunk.

“You didn’t happen to see which way she went, did you?” Ren asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Aye. She snuck out the back door.”

“Thank you, Julius.”

“Best of luck, Rook!”

Ren stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the cool night air to center himself. He needed to remain calm. Esana couldn’t have gotten far.

In the distance he heard the sound of cheering. Children cheering. He relaxed slightly; he had a feeling whatever was going on, Esana was probably around, if not directly involved.

He followed the sound of cheering until he turned a corner and found himself staring at a veritable horde of children all gathered around a circle. In the middle, playing what looked like a game of bones against an older human boy, was Esana.

“That looks like another game for me!” She exclaimed as she grabbed the copper pieces and put it in her already fairly substantial pile of winnings.

The boy didn’t seem too pleased.

“That’s not fair!” He cried. “You cheated!”

“How do you cheat at bones, Dax?” One of the other children asked. Dax’s face only grew more red as the other children began to laugh.

“Yeah, Dax.” Esana taunted as she began to count her winnings. “Don’t be a sore looser.”

“Why you-“

Whatever Dax was about to say was cut short by the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the alley. Out of the darkness, a behemoth of a man emerged. He had lank, dark hair that clung to his face and a scar that ran from one side of his neck to the other. He approached the children, most of whom had already scurried away, and sneered at them with yellowing teeth.

“What do we have here?” The large man asked as he loomed over the children eyeing the pile of money. “You brats got some money for me?”

“No!” Esana cried. “That’s mine!” She stood up, putting herself between the man and the coin.

Ren could have sworn his heart had stopped beating then, as he watched the giant man loom over his daughter. His daughter, who looked so very small standing in that man’s shadow. Thinking quickly, Ren grabbed a bottle from a nearby drunkard and flicked a coin his way before the man could complain too much.

“What did you say, little knife ear?” The man sneered as he pulled an out a wicked looking dagger. “Perhaps I should teach you a lesson of what happens when pests like you talk back to your betters.”

Esana’s eyes widened as the knife was held merely inches from her face. The man made to grab her, but before he could do anything, Ren staggered out of the darkness as if drunk, practically barreling into the man. He made a show of spilling the contents of his bottle all over the man’s clothes.

“M’so sorry, serah.” He said, slurring his words together. “It seems I-“ and he hiccuped here for effect “-I can’t seem to hold me liquor! Can’t seem to carry it neither.”

Ren gave his best drunken laugh as he pointed to the almost empty bottle of booze. Predictably, the man took the bait, grabbing Ren by the collar and shoving him hard against the wall.

“Stupid elf! I should gut you here and now!”

Too busy threatening him, the man didn’t notice Ren pull on the Fade, summoning flames in his left hand.

“Gut me?” Ren asked, feigning innocence. “While you’re on fire?”

The man stared at Ren in confusion before bursting into laughter.

“On fire? You must be drunker than I-“

Suddenly, the man let out an inhuman screech as Ren held the flame against the man’s alcohol drenched clothes, quickly setting them ablaze with a satisfying woosh. The man dropped Ren as he tried to quickly strip off his burning clothes.

Ren, for his part, didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing his daughter, he took off running down the narrow alley.

They had made it almost halfway back to the Black Swan when he stopped to catch his breath. He looked down at his daughter and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. Getting down on one knee he began to look her over.

“Are you alright?” He asked. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Ren nodded. That would have to do. For now, at least.

Together, father and daughter ran the rest of the way back to the Black Swan. When finally they arrived at the back entrance, the adrenaline seemed to leave Ren all at once, leaving him drained. He sank onto one of the large crates nearby, placing his head in his hands as the reality of what almost happened hit him like a druffalo.

Esana stood there nervously, sensing, perhaps, that she had crossed a line somewhere.

“Papa, I’m-“

Ren cut her off.

“Esana,” he began, frustration filling the void where fear and adrenaline once were, “How many times have I told you that you cannot go out at night on your own?”

“I was just-“

“And yet, you continue to deliberately disobey me. And for what? A handful of coin?”

“It wasn’t just a handful…” she muttered.

Something inside Ren snapped.

“HE COULD HAVE TAKEN YOU!” Ren shouted as he gripped his daughter’s shoulders desperately. “PAWNED YOU OFF AT THE SLAVE MARKET! OR WORSE, HE COULD HAVE KILLED YOU! DUMPED YOUR BODY SOMEWHERE AND I WOULD HAVE BEEN NONE THE WISER. WOULD THE COIN HAVE BEEN WORTH IT THEN? WELL?”

Hot, angry tears streamed down Esana’s face as she pulled herself out of her father’s grip and ran into the tavern. Ren tried to grab her but she was too quick.

“Esana!” He yelled. “Esana get back here!”

Instead, he heard the sound of a door slamming from upstairs, where the guest rooms were. He looked around the tavern and noticed that it was mostly empty, save for a few stragglers who seemed too deep into their cups to notice the elven family drama going on around them. He also noticed a distinct lack of Venatori. They must have left earlier as well.

Shit.

With a sigh, Ren felt all of the previous anger bleed out of him, leaving him bone-tired. With great effort, Ren dragged himself to the bar, rubbing at his eyes before anyone could see the moisture in them.

“Julius,” he called, “Can I have another glass of water, please?”

The barkeep popped out from the kitchen, a bowl of something heavenly smelling in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other.

“I’ll do you one better.” He said, setting the bowl, some sort of stew, in front of Ren. “Here, eat. You look like you’re about to keel over where you stand.”

“Julius, you are a gentleman and a scholar.”

“Yes, yes. Tell me something I don’t know.”

Ren took a few spoonfuls before his appetite left him entirely as the monster currently gnawing at his stomach felt more akin to guilt than hunger. He stirred the soup in lazy circles with his spoon, occasionally making a half-hearted attempt at taking a bite before giving up entirely.

“I need to go talk to Esana.” He said with a sigh.

“Rook, wait…”

Ren looked up and was surprised to see the old barkeep looking at him with eyes full of understanding… and a bit of sorrow.

“I don’t usually tell people this for obvious reasons, but… my father was also a freeman.” He said. “And an elf, too.”

Ren’s eyes widened. A lot of things about Julius suddenly made sense. The slight build, the bright eyes…

The easiness in which he accepted Ren and Esana…

He looked at the man in a whole new light then, silently wondering how he never noticed the way Julius’s ears tapered to a point, a tell-tale sign of the man’s heritage.

“I’ll be.” Ren exclaimed. “I’d had no idea I was in the presence of a fellow knife-ear. I’ll make you a flower crown. Maybe even show you some of my favorite places to frolic naked in the moonlight.”

“I am quite capable of going to a whore house on my own, thank you.”

Both men burst into laughter, loud enough in the almost empty tavern to draw the attention of the last remaining guests. The confused stares sobered both men up fairly quickly, and Julius continued whatever point he was getting at.

“Before I was born,” he said, “my father had somehow managed to buy his and my mother’s freedom. Never did quite figure out how he managed to pull it off...”

Julius’s eyes grew distant as he stared at something only he could see. After a moment, he blinked, and turned his attention back to Ren. In all the years he had known the man, Ren had never seen an expression so solemn on his face as he did now.

“When I was Esana’s age, I also never… appreciated the sacrifices my father had made for my family. For me... And Maker, there were so many…”

“And you do now?” Ren asked.

“Aye.” Said Julius. “I do now. Very much so. And I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but Esana will too.”

Ren considered the older man’s words as he took a few more bites of his stew. He pushed himself off of the counter and dusted himself off.

“Thank you, Julius.” He said. “For everything.”

“Anytime, Rook.“

Ren made his way up the stairs and down the hall to where he and Esana were staying. As quietly as he could, he crept in, closing the door behind him.

They were fortunate enough to stay in a room with two cots this time, an upgrade to their usual fair. He noticed that the cot on the left was occupied by a relatively Esana sized lump buried underneath the blankets. On the desk , underneath an open window, was a rook. It sat atop a wooden perch as it cleaned its feathers with its long, grey beak.

Hearing the door close, it looked up and flew over to where Ren sat on the empty cot, silently landing on his knee.

“Hey, Hope.” He uttered.

“…Why is your doublet singed?” Was the spirit’s response.

“Good to see you too.”

“Renan…”

Ren looked down at his doublet, his favorite one too, and, sure enough, he noticed singe marks all long the bottom hem.

And lo, did the Maker say “Fuck this Elf in particular.” He thought.

“I suppose it does not matter. I am sure it can be fixed.” Hope said kindly. Then, through the bond, he heard: ‘Esana was very upset, but she would not tell me what happened.’

‘She decided to pick fights with grown men and then I lost my temper and yelled at her.’

‘Ah. I see.’

Hope climbed up Ren’s arm to perch on his shoulder.

“I think I am going to go out.” She announced. “Stretch my wings for a bit.”

“Have fun.”

Hope rubbed up against his cheek affectionately, nuzzling him much like she had when he was a boy, newly arrived in the Tevinter Imperium and being sold off like chattel.

‘You can fix this.’ He heard her say through the bond.

With that, Hope flew out the open window and into the warm summer’s night, leaving father and daughter alone to talk. After a minute or two of sitting silently in the dark, Ren spoke.

“I know you’re awake, Esana.” He said. “Can we talk? Please?”

A loud sniffle from underneath the covers was the only response he got. With a sigh, Ren pulled off his boots and set them neatly by his bedside table.

��It’s ok, Esana. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” He said as he took off his now singed doublet. “I’ll talk then, ok?”

Ren took a moment to gather his thoughts. He stared down at his hands, looking at the small knicks and callouses from years of playing the lute. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, and let the loose sleeves reveal old scar tissue across his wrists from where too-heavy shackles had rubbed his skin raw years ago. They certainly weren’t pretty, which was part of the reason why he always covered them, but they weren’t the worst of his scars. He knew his back was a gnarled web of lash marks, fifty in total. They still ached from time to time, too…

He made a vow, long ago, that the Imperium would never hurt him, or his loved ones, ever again. And he intended to keep that promise.

“I love you, Esana.” He said, finally. “And I am very sorry that I yelled at you like I did. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

In the darkness, Ren saw two bright blue eyes (her mother’s eyes, he thought distantly) peek out from underneath the covers, watching him warily. Taking that as progress, he continued.

“The truth is, I was scared. What you did was incredibly dangerous. I truly thought that man was going to hurt you, and that terrified me.”

Esana crawled out from underneath the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over and refusing to look anywhere but her bare feet. Ren noticed that she was already in her nightgown. She must have changed after she stormed upstairs.

With a small smile, Ren patted the empty space beside him in invitation. Esana quickly crossed the short distance to sit with her father, but still refused to look up at him, even after he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to his side.

“I just wanted to help.” She said miserably, swiping at her eyes as fresh tears began to fall. “I thought that if I could earn money like you do, then you would let me join you for once.”

“Esana…”

“I just wanted to be like you. I’m tired of being treated like a baby.”

Ren tucked an errant lock of red hair behind his daughter’s ear.

“Esana,” he said, “I don’t need you to be like me. In fact, that’s the last thing in the world I want you to be. And while I appreciate the help, I’m your father. It’s my job to take care of you, not the other way around.”

“But I want to help!” Esana cried, almost desperately. “I want to be out there, with you!”

Ren chewed his bottom lip as he pondered Esana’s words. He certainly did not want to expose her to the drunks of Minrathous, but he also knew that soon she would be turning thirteen. Too old to stay willingly cloistered away. Maybe he could bring her along every now and then, introduce her little by little to his world in a way where he could monitor her and keep her safe, rather than having her go out behind his back…

Still, he couldn’t help but feel he was missing something. Something important. There was a frantic edge to Esana’s pleading that Ren couldn’t understand. Not for the first time, Ren wished his wife were still alive. Leena would have known what to do. She was good at that sort of thing.

“I’ll tell you what,” Ren began, cupping his daughter’s chin gently, “how about I teach you how to play that spare flute I have? Then, you could play with me. Sometimes.”

Esana stared up at her father with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Sometimes!” He reiterated. “Only the jobs that I think are safe, ok?”

“Really?” she asked, excitement and a strange tinge of something akin to relief shining in her eyes.

“Yes.” Ren laughed. “Really.”

Esana launched herself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug which he returned without a thought.

“I love you, papa.” She said.

“I love you, too, Esana.”

Not long after Ren noticed his daughter’s eyelids grow heavy and her shoulders begin to droop. He chuckled as he watched her try to stifle a yawn.

“Alright little Nuglette, I think that’s enough excitement for one day. To bed with you.”

“Ok, papa.” Esana murmured sleepily as she crawled back into her own cot. Suddenly, that frantic edge that Ren noticed earlier returned.

“Papa…” she said, “Could I stay in your cot? Until I fall asleep?”

“Sure.” Ren said with a small smile.

Esana quickly scurried from her cot to join her father. She snuggled herself up against him, and he felt her relax as if she had been holding in some sort of tension.

“Esana,” Ren asked as she tucked herself in the crook of his arm, “Is everything alright?”

Esana hastily nodded, not quite looking her father in the eye. Ren sighed.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

Another nod.

“Ok. Good night, Esana. Sweet dreams.”

Ren didn’t notice Esana wince at the mention of dreams. He didn’t notice his daughter squeeze her eyes shut, desperately trying not to think of the monsters in her dreams that hounded her, begging her to let them in.

Instead Ren began to sing softly, voice barely above a whisper as he sang an old Elvish lullaby, one that his own mother sang to him when he was little. It didn’t take long for Esana to drift off into the Fade. No nightmares plagued her this time, safe as she was in her father’s arms and a song promising only pleasant things echoing in her ears.

For Ren, however, sleep evaded him despite his exhaustion. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t mind and was content to watch the rise and fall of Esana’s chest as his daughter slept soundly, snuggled up against him. Truth be told, he cherished moments such as these because he knew that sooner rather than later, his daughter would grow too old to cuddle with her papa. For now, though, he placed a kiss upon his little girl’s brow and held her as tightly as he could without waking her.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, only that it was near dawn when Hope flew in through the window, the first rays of light gently reflecting off of her feathers, giving them a purplish hue.

“Morning, Hope.” Whispered Ren as he watched her land on the bedside table.

“Good morning, Renan.” She whispered back. “I am happy to see you two worked it out.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Ren shifted slightly to face his friend. “You were gone an awfully long time. Did something happen?”

“I ran into Neve Gallius. She would like you to meet her later this evening.”

“Ah… and what did our favorite Ice Queen want? Did she say?”

“Only that she would like to introduce you to an aquantence of hers. Some sort of… novelist?”

“Of course she does…” Ren murmured tiredly, not really paying attention.

They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the silence of the early morning. Ren was just about to finally drift off to sleep when Hope looked up from where she was preening her feathers and stared out of the window with an unusually concerned expression.

“Renan…” she whispered, so quietly Ren barely heard her.

“Mmm?”

“There is a storm coming.” Was all she said.

Little did Ren know, as he later found himself staring up at the terrifying visages of his Dalish mother's myths, how true those words were about to become.

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cybergoth1 · 1 month ago

Text

beyond the cowl | prologue | batfamily x isekaide!reader

masterlist | chapter 01.

synopsis: ❛❛you're just a normal twenty-one-year old girl trying to navigate life with a shitty job and a useless degree. life isn't easy, and between expensive therapy sessions and the constant feeling of failure, you suddenly wake up in a body that wasn't yours, with a past that wasn't yours. now, in another dimension, you're dealing with the fact that you're a crucial part of the caped crusade that shaped bruce wayne's life. you're the second robin, the former girl wonder, and the vigilant gotham needed so much.❞

warnings/tags: swearing. reader being emotionally immature bc we love toxic women. no beta we die like jason todd. reader really needs her lexapro. alfred being a sweetheart in the end (pls lets pretend bane never killed him).

Sometimes you felt like they had lied to you. Straight to your face. Your friends, your family and your professors.

They all made you believe that something important was out there, just waiting for you. They patted your back while you poured out your insecurities like the self-doubting idiot you are, and with the most convincing tone, told you that the world was your oyster. That opportunities are everywhere.

They said you shouldn't be that worried about getting a job. You still have plenty of time after graduating. Right?

Right.

Their nice words turned out to be useless the moment you stepped out of college. Your dreams and expectations were shattered during your first month sending out resumes to every single company and agency you could find. And then, before you knew it, eight months had passed without you landing a decent job. The endless rejection emails and mounting bills started to make you lose sleep as you spent countless nights tossing and turning in your single bed.

That’s why you ended up here, one year later, in a café downtown, learning the difference between a flat white and a cappuccino for a living.

You wiped down the counter for the sixth time in the past half hour, keeping an eye out for any trace of coffee left by the last customer when he spilled it all over your hands and apron. The feeling of the cloth under your fingers was the only thing grounding you as your thoughts began to spiral for the third time that day. You couldn’t even hear the annoying hiss of the espresso machine or your manager's high-pitched voice nagging at you about some shit you didn't care about.

You only lifted your head when a customer called you by your name. It was the same high school kid who always ordered a caramel macchiato. Mia or something. Your mind wandered as you pulled a shot of espresso for the new order.

You shouldn’t be here.

You shouldn't be pretending your lifetime dreams were nothing. You shouldn’t be pretending that you feel fulfilled cleaning counters and serving people who barely looked up at your face while you handed them their orders.

You heard Mia asking for extra vanilla syrup.

Shit, that was so unfair to you. You did everything right; every single thing they told you to do. You checked all the boxes.

You got a degree, unlike half of your family, who barely finished high school. You didn’t get knocked up at sixteen, unlike your mom and older sister, and you didn’t get addicted to fucking alcohol, unlike your dad. So why are you still living like this — paycheck to paycheck, unable to afford dental care, healthcare, or even the most basic stuff like a new pair of shoes.

Deep down, you know why.

Poverty is an eternal, miserable, and unbreakable cycle — you were just naïve enough to think you could overcome it with simple actions. You kept your eyes fixed on the tall iced latte in your hand while zoning out. Yeah, time for another therapy session.

“Here you go” you tried to smile while handing her the cup. Hiding your growing anxiety and negative thoughts behind your customer service voice was a skill you were slowly, but surely, building up. But you probably looked weird as fuck since she gave you an awkward smile while muttering a "thanks".

"I still don’t know how you got this job. You look like a psychopath," you heard Nate, your coworker, from behind you, holding an empty milk pitcher.

He would be a nice, solid dude if he didn't act like a middle school bully most of the time.

"Yeah?" you rolled your eyes, finally turning your body to look at him. Damn, he really needed to shave his sideburns; he looked ridiculous. "Want me to tell you what you look like?"

His red hair and weird face made him look like a distressed orangutan. A very ugly orangutan.

He just smirked at your sarcastic tone. Fucking cunt.

"Nah, I'm good".

As the rest of the shift slowly passed, you kept checking your phone over and over, waiting for that email from the agency you applied to two weeks ago. You got nothing, as usual. Nothing besides a text from your sister asking for forty dollars; she probably ran out of baby formula again.

With a loud sigh, you decided to scroll through Instagram while Nate flirted with some customers. You quickly noticed that your college friend Christine had just been promoted again. She had been working at her father's company since her sophomore year, and her longtime boyfriend, Tom, had proposed to her in front of the Eiffel Tower.

Uh, wow, that's nice—good for her.

"Congrats, babe! Oh my god, he's so lucky to have you in his life. And good luck at your new job," you send her a quick DM, like a good friend would.

And you are, objectively, a good friend. You're even congratulating her on her promotion as if she weren't a spoiled, airheaded bitch who never accomplished anything on her own. Christine had everything handed to her on a silver platter; her parents got her an amazing job at their company, then paid for her boob job, her nose job, her new car, and her apartment—the list goes on.

You watched the couple showing off the engagement ring under the Parisian sunset and felt like the most self-absorbed cunt on Earth. At this point, you're used to feeling like that, at least twice a day. You spent the rest of your shift watching her stories over and over until it was time to close.

“I’m heading out,” you said to Nate as you finally grabbed your stuff from the break room. The city felt colder than usual that time of year; you could feel your lips getting chapped every time you stepped outside, so you quickly wrapped your old yellow scarf around your neck while zipping up your jacket. The café was already empty; the other employees had left fifteen minutes earlier, leaving just the two of you to close up.

Nate barely looked at you when you said goodbye to him.

You didn't care.

During your walk to the bus stop, you looked around the dark street pretending you’re not totally shitting yourself under the dim streetlights—holding your purse tightly against your frame, like you're about to be mugged by the thin air.

In those moments of raw vulnerability and panic, the whole idea of vigilantism seemed pretty cool. People in latex or spandex you don't actually know, jumping off buildings and beating up bad guys, defending the working class and pretty girls in distress. That's pretty neat, uh?

And very unrealistic.

Once inside the bus and comfortably seated, you let your thoughts wander again. You didn't know what you were doing with your life anymore. You never did, in fact.

The beauty of the night, the cold air coming from the bus's open windows, and the lights of the buildings dancing against the dark sky managed to soothe some of your pain for a few minutes. Your legs ached after hours of standing behind the counter, you felt burns on your hands, and your feet were uncomfortably squeezed into shoes that were a size too small.

Gradually, you fell asleep leaning against the bus seat, thinking about a nice pair of shoes you saw in the mall three days ago.

The first thing you noticed while slowly waking up was how comfortable you felt. The fabric beneath your body was as soft as silk, and the scent of fresh lavender emanating from it indicated that it had been recently washed—fuck, what is this? Heaven? You whined, shoving your whole face against it and breathing in.

Yeah, that’s definitely lavender—

Wait.

Public transportation didn’t smell like lavender, last time you checked. Your whole body went rigid as a cold shiver ran down your spine.

You immediately opened your eyes.

Fuck, fuck. What the fuck is happening?

You weren't on a bus anymore, that's for sure. Jesus, where's your purse?

“Fuck!” you almost screamed in pure panic as a painful sensation spread between your ribs and stomach, burning so much it seemed to take your breath away as you tried to sit up.

You were on a bed. A king-size bed. Sitting on silk sheets.

“Oh my god, someone kidnapped me—”

You looked around the bedroom as tears immediately filled your wide eyes. Your heart raced, and your hands trembled as you tried to make sense of the unfamiliar place you had woken up in.

The growing panic and fear for your life were so overwhelming that you couldn’t even notice the beautiful, very personal decor around the room or the several photos on the walls and desk, showing your face next to people you had never seen in your entire life.

"Oh, miss, thank God you're awake" a gentle voice said — is that a british accent? — close to the bedroom's door.

That's it, you're going to be killed by a weird, rich old man, and he's going to sell your organs on the black market.

Oh God, you quietly sobbed, you've always slept on the bus on your way back home, and you've never had any problems before—

Through the tears that blurred your vision, you could finally make out the figure of a tall man slowly approaching your bed. He was holding a cup of tea and a plate with what looked like a sandwich.

A cucumber sandwich.

"It seems like you may have hit your head quite hard. And your ribs," he said, handing you the cup and placing the plate on the bedside table. The man sighed loudly. "Master Damian really needs to contain his enthusiasm during sparring sessions."

The cup shook in your left hand as you looked at him with tearful eyes. He politely pretended not to notice your desperate state or the tears in the corners of your eyes as he walked back to the door.

"Hey, Alfie, have you seen my white socks?" another voice called out, this time from the hall.

"They're still on your bedroom drawers, Master Dick."

"Oh, right, sorry."

Wait, that was Batman's butler or—

Your vision faded to black as you collapsed back onto the silk sheets.

tag-list: @rosescarlettx, @btsloveer07-blog, @rainbowstar, @xingyunny, @mikyapixie, @sheep-from-rad, @fandomly-obsessed, @migilore, @natsukicookies, @candlewitch-cryptic, @socialmess-jery, @mona1704, @dieforcoffee26, @stupouid, @astrelz, @dind1n, @cxcilla, @mimi-sanisanidiot, @ceridwyn3, @sunako50

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viennakarma · 3 months ago

Text

Funny Little Girl

Lewis Hamilton x Reader (+ daughter)

Summary: When Lewis' little girl gets sick while he's away, he starts contemplating.

Word count: 2.4k

Tags: female!reader, husband!Lewis, Dad!Lewis, fluff, little bit hurt/comfort, daughter is sick, Lewis is worried, hospital, not beta read

Relationship: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Note: I wrote this in a spur of the moment at 2 am last night, no beta we die like men. It was genuinely supposed to be a blurb but my brain took over and ran with it. (Once again in my girl dad!Lewis agenda)

Feedback and comments are appreciated xx

Find me on Twitter! | BUY ME A COFFEE ☕️

Lewis was restless.

He hadn’t spoken to you since the morning, and usually, by this time you would’ve already texted him a good morning message or even a silly lazy picture.

He knew, obviously with him being away on a race weekend, it was natural that the time difference stood between you, but this time he wasn’t too far from home, just a few hours ahead, so he found it strange that you hadn’t texted him yet. He left a couple messages for you again, but they were only delivered. He tried to call once but it rang and you never picked up.

Then an hour or so later, when he was in the middle of a meeting, he got a call from you, a FaceTime call. Worried, he immediately interrupted the meeting, asking for a ten minute break and scurried off to his room.

He picked up as soon as he closed the door behind himself. On the screen, he could see you, still in your sleeping clothes, and Ivy was on your lap. Lewis stared at his daughter and from one single look he could tell she was not looking well.

“Hi, love. Sorry I didn’t answer your texts earlier…” You said first thing.

“What happened?” Lewis frowned.

“Ivy woke up a little under the weather today. She’s a little feverish.”

He looked at his daughter on the screen again, she wasn’t paying attention to him, her eyes red rimmed like she had been crying, in her hands, tightly held was Brendon the Kraken, her favorite plush toy, and her blankie. She had a beanie on and a pacifier. She was looking at the TV, not minding him or her mom.

“How’s she doing? Are you thinking of taking her to the hospital?” He asked, his heart tightening in his chest.

“Not yet, I think the fever might go down soon. If it doesn’t then I’ll take her to see the doctor,” you explained, rubbing Ivy’s shoulder as she snuggled up to you and Lewis wished he was home with you and Ivy, taking care of his little girl who was just a little under three, “how is everything going? Ready for the race later?”

Lewis bit back a comment of how he just wanted to go home to his wife and to his baby girl. How he wanted to snuggle up with Ivy on the couch with lots of blankets to keep her warm while watching silly cartoons. But instead, he smiled a little and talked about the race for a minute. He knew that if you knew he was sad, you were gonna be sad too, so he just pretended everything was fine and his heart wasn’t broken for being away from his family.

Ivy was a toddler, and he was aware toddlers were a little under the weather all the time and it usually wasn’t that big of a deal. Hell, he had been home a couple of times when his daughter had a little cold before. But every time it happened when he was away, it ripped his heart apart just the same.

“Will you keep me updated on Ivy?” He asked, looking at your sweet face on the screen.

“Of course, and if I take too long to reply, don’t rip your hair off with worry, okay?” You said with a fond smile. You gently nudged Ivy, pulling her pacifier out, “look, baby, say hi to daddy…”

Ivy looked at the screen, and her little lips turned into a pout, her eyes watering.

“Daddy! Want daddy!” She said, starting to cry as she made grabby hands to the screen.

Lewis felt like his heart was being torn open with a jackhammer, the pleading look in Ivy’s eyes, wanting comfort from her daddy and him being a couple of countries away, unable to teleport to her side to hold her.

“Shhh, it’s okay, love, daddy is coming home soon, isn’t he?” You said, trying to comfort your daughter, but she kept crying, fat tears wetting her chubby cheeks.

“I’m going home soon, sweetheart, I promise. Daddy’s gonna be there soon,” he said through the screen, but Ivy only seemed to grow even more agitated, her cries louder. He knew the fact that she was sick was probably playing a part in making her big emotions come out. He tried more comforting words, but both Ivy was agitated and you were trying to comfort as best as you could.

Lewis watched the screen for a few more seconds, swallowing a painful lump in his throat, seeing his daughter’s urgency in having him closer, her big brown eyes wet with tears and the grabby hands towards him as if he could just go home through the screen and pick her up in his arms.

“Sorry, love,” you said, picking up Ivy and she cried against your shoulder, “I’ll hang up to calm her down, okay? I’ll keep you updated.”

“If anything, anything really happens you can call me anytime.” He said, hearing your little whimpering through the screen, “love you two.”

“We love you, Lewis,” you blew him a quick kiss and hung up.

Lewis stared at the black screen for a long time, not really looking, just remembering the look on his little girl’s face as she wanted him close. He swallowed a couple times more, and he decided to text his dad and stepmom to go check on you and Ivy if they had some free time back home.

He went back to his pre-race meeting with a pit in his stomach. He had to make an herculean effort to be present on the race weekend and not let his mind wander back to you and Ivy. He checked a few more texts, and you kept him updated every once in a while. First telling him you got Ivy to eat something, then you sent him a picture of Ivy taking a nap on your chest, and she looked a little better, but you told him she was still a little feverish, but luckily her temperature hadn’t gone up.

Before going to the race, he warned one of the team’s assistants to keep a close eye on his phone, knowing you’d still be sending him updates on your daughter.

He finished the race P4, which wasn’t a bad finishing position but as soon as he was out of the car, he was thinking of Ivy again. When he checked his phone, your last text had been before the race started, a quick selfie wishing him good luck, but after that, there was not a single text from you, and he started worrying all over again.

“If my wife calls or texts, I need you to interrupt anything I’m doing and get the phone to me, okay? No matter what,” he said to the assistant, handing his phone again before going out to the post race interviews.

He was only half-heartedly replying during the interviews, worried that the assistant had not gone to him not even one moment, which could only mean you had not called yet.

Once the interviews were done, he went back to the assistant to check on his phone and he saw three missed calls from you and two from his dad. His stomach instantly dropped.

“I said to get the phone to me if my wife called,” He looked at the assistant who looked like a deer in the headlights.

“I tried, Lewis! The PR lady didn’t even let me through the door. I told her it was your wife and an emergency, but…” The guy defended himself, pointing to the F1 PR coordinator, who looked at Lewis with wide eyes.

“You don’t ever do that again, understood? My family is my priority and you shouldn’t have interfered when he was under explicit orders to find me as soon as my wife called.” Lewis said, he was calm but his voice was firm and left no room for questioning. The woman only nodded, spurting some excuse and apology.

He barely waved her off before finding a secluded little room to check his phone. In the texts, you had warned him that Ivy got worse and you were taking her to the hospital. He immediately called your phone but it went straight to voicemail. He tried a couple more times before trying his dad, who luckily picked up.

“Dad? Where are they?” He said.

“I brought your girls to the hospital, they put Ivy in a room and the doctor is checking her up now. We’re in the waiting room now, so as soon as I have any news, I’ll let you know. Your wife’s phone died, so it’s probably best to talk to me.”

Lewis exhaled, still feeling nervous but a little more comforted that you weren’t alone with Ivy in a moment like this.

“Can you send me the address of the hospital? I’m going straight there. And please, keep me updated.”

After hanging up, Lewis immediately went to find the team to let them know his daughter was sick and he needed to get home as soon as possible, rescheduling the post-race debriefing. He didn’t even get back to the hotel, since he had his suitcase with him at the paddock, he just called his connections and got himself a helicopter back home.

He arrived at the hospital you and Ivy were in a couple of hours later, going straight inside and finding his dad in the waiting room, chatting with a nurse. He hugged his dad, who told him you were inside with Ivy, and the nurse took Lewis and Anthony there.

Lewis entered the room where you were, sitting before the hospital bed, and Ivy was lying on the bed, holding her plushie with one hand and holding her mom’s hand with the other. She looked the same as she had in the FaceTime call that morning.

“Daddy!” Ivy squealed, and Lewis rushed inside, hugging her tightly, careful minding the IV drip in her arm. She smelled the same as always, baby shampoo and home. Lewis inhaled into her curly hair and kissed her cheek.

“Hi, baby… I’m sorry dad took too long to arrive. How is my baby girl doing?” He asked, gently putting her down on the bed, but she grasped his coat as if to stop him from leaving again. He leaned over the bed and pecked your cheek, “Hi, my love…”

You quickly explained to Lewis that that doctor had checked on Ivy and you were waiting for him to bring the results in. Lewis comforted Ivy for a moment, before walking around the bed to hug you. You looked tired, and he imagined you had spent the whole day dealing with a sick, fussy toddler.

“Have you eaten today?” He asked, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“In the morning,” You mutter, closing your eyes for a moment, enjoying the gentle caress of his knuckles on your cheeks.

“Wanna go home to rest and eat while I stay here with Ivy?” He offered, despite already knowing your reply.

“Of course not, I’m not leaving her side,” You said, rolling your eyes and he smiled.

“Dad, will you take my lovely wife to the cafeteria and make sure she eats something?” Lewis said to his dad, who was still chatting with Ivy. He immediately accepted, and Lewis removed his own coat, putting it around you, “We’ll wait here, okay?”

You nodded and left with Anthony just as Lewis turned to Ivy.

“Are you feeling cold, baby?” He asked the little girl, who looked fussy and sleepy, rubbing her eyes as she nodded.

Ivy made grabby hands, whispering for Daddy, and Lewis got into the hospital bed with her, pulling her to lay on his chest as he adjusted the blankets around her. Her skin was still warm to the touch, and he held her close, wrapping both arms around his little girl while she spoke about her day, whining about her day and about being sick. She was always extra clingy when he came back from his trips.

Lewis gently played with her curls while she spoke, muttering his uh-hu, and yeah, and his of course, baby, until she started slurring out the words and slowly falling asleep.

He smiled, despite the worry, he was glad to be there finally, to be with his wife and daughter.

When you came back to the room, Ivy was sleeping against Lewis’ chest just like she used to do as a newborn, Lewis gently rubbing her back and getting drool in his shirt. You handed him a coffee, and he drank without moving a muscle so as to not wake up your little girl.

The doctor came a few minutes later, checking on Ivy and making sure she was fine and the fever was subsiding, he said it was just a little cold and prescribed a couple of meds.

Lewis carried your little girl to the car seat, while you hugged Anthony goodbye and thanked him profusely for keeping you company when you were going to the hospital earlier. After that, you went home driving, Lewis in the passenger seat.

Arriving home, Lewis carried Ivy to her little bed, tucking her in and touching her forehead to make sure the fever was really gone. When he returned to the bedroom, you had taken a quick shower and was dressed in soft, comfortable pajamas.

“How are you, love?” He asked as you walked lazily up to him and he wrapped his arms around your mirror, pulling you into his chest.

“Just a little tired…” You mumbled, and he pecked your lips, walking you back towards the bed.

“Thank you for taking care of her today, love. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for most of it…” He whispered affectionately into your skin.

“It’s okay, you had work… I’m glad you came straight home to us.” You muttered as he placed you in bed, tucking you in.

“I love you,” He tugged your hand and kissed your knuckles.

He let you fall asleep while he took a quick shower too, changing into PJs before going to check on Ivy again. The doctor had assured that the medicine would take her out for the night, but she’d be totally better the following morning.

When he got in bed with you again, pulling you closer, his arm around your middle, his leg between yours and your face pressed into his chest, he finally breathed. He had been tense the whole day from being away from you and Ivy, worry gnawing at him, and guilt for being away in moments like these. Not only tough moments like this, but also the happy ones. He wondered what else he’d miss of Ivy growing up, and he had missed so much already.

That was the first time he truly contemplated retirement.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fic #f1 #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lh44 #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #lh44 x reader #Spotify

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salliesimpkins · 11 months ago

Text

“I like you a lot”

Isaac lahey x fem!Reader

TW: Smut, oral (fem receiving), use of pet names, claws, nipple play

+16 read at your own risk. I’m not your mommy A/N: first smut to write + english isn’t my first lang word count: 2.5K

You were at school, leaning against your locker. smiling at and laughing with Stiles, until you caught Isaac glaring at you across the hall, visibly upset.

"alright Stiles I've got to go now, I'll see ya" you walked away after Stiles nodded and walked to Scott, and you made your way to Isaac.

"hey" you flashed him a smile and he blushed. How could he not? he thought you were the most beautiful thing ever.

The beta glanced over Stiles before turning back to you. "hey.." he spoke softly.

"Just tired... I uhh, I’ve got a lot on my mind lately" he said slowly and softly, not wanting to ruin this moment between you two.

You nodded slowly, feeling bad for him. "well you know, you can always talk to me" you said softly, reassuring him that he's got someone by his side.

You watched him closely as he looked at you quietly, and you didn't want to rush him to speak, you knew how sensitive Isaac is. It made him feel pathetic when he opened up to anyone or asked for help, that's what his dad has taught him. That a man is a man, boys don't cry, but Isaac knew you, he loved you, trusted you, and he knew your listen and get him anytime.

"I've just been going back.. thinking about my family" He looked down as his expression softened.

"oh" you whispered softly and placed your hand on the boy's back, rubbing it gently. "I know you've suffered from your dad your whole life, but his death Isn’t your fault".

Isaac flinched, but he didn't move away from you. Even though your gesture was tiny, it felt huge to him, It made him on top of the world. He let out a soft sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "I know... I just-" he paused, unsure if he can keep going or not, but he really counted on you, so he kept going. "I didn't even cry at the funeral and everyone thinks I don't care, that I was wishing the whole time i'd get rid of him, and the problem is.. it's true. I was relieved that he's dead"

"Honey listen to me" you took a step closer, placing both your hands on his shoulder. "your dad used to lock you in a freezer. that night.. that night he hurt you and you ran like any other night, because you didn't know what he would die" you then place your hand on isaac's cheek, caressing it softly "you were just scared, you did nothing wrong"

Isaac paused for a moment and leaned into your touched as he shivered. The relief he felt when his father died was a burden to him, but he knew you were saying the truth so he bit his lip thoughtfully. He wanted to say that your hand felt to right on his skin, but he didn't and rubbed his face with his hand then looked at you hesitantly as he spoke. "I- Iwas scared" his voice trembled as he stammered softly, making you unsure if he meant you to hear him. he slowly smiled at you softly and leaned into your touch again, causing his breath to hitch.

you sighed softly as you try to build up some courage and confidence to ask him to go out with you, but you were too scared that he'd turn you down so you just looked quietly at the ground until you heard a familiar 5 taps on the locker next to you and looked to the direction to see lydia. She must have noticed your flustered face because she tilted her head at Isaac and winked at you. You two have been talking about it and she was eager for you to confess to him, and apparently she was so sure Isaac wouldn't let you down for a reason she wouldn't tell.

you snapped out of my trance as Isaac cleared his throat and looked at the same direction you were just looking at, except there was nobody there.

"sorry about that. I was just wondering if you would want to go home with me? I mean-" You paused and took a deep breath. "why don't you come over and we can just.. relax?" you asked nervously as he just looked at you quietly. "Scott's sneaking out with Allison again and our mom won't be home until ten.. so I was thinking if you'd want to just come over instead of staying alone or with Derek, he could be lame sometimes" I chuckle nervously and put on a fake confident grin.

Isaac stayed quiet for a moment or two, taking in your words, and he thought there was no way he could turn that down, the thought of you and him alone in the house with no distractions. He knew he wanted it but he wasn't sure if you did. if you were just doing him a favour because you felt bad, but he decided to push his paranoia to the side and smiled at you softly with a blush on his cheek, nodding. "I'd like that, if you're okay with it"

"ahh perfect! we are gonna have so much fun! we can watch the notebook too if you want to, or maybe cook or play or just" you pause for a second or two, not wanting to creep Isaac out with your sudden excitement. "we could just.. chill you know?" You looked up at him with a smile.

The two of you walked to your house, as Stiles has already left with his jeep, and while you were walking you felt Isaac's hand brush against yours until he took it in, intertwining your fingers together. you could feel how his hand shakes softly and you knew his stomach was probably flipping, he was a nervous wreck.

You held his hand confidently the way home until you reached it and opened the front door for the two of you. After walking in, you turned to Isaac and smiles. "do you wanna stay in the living room, or go to my room? or we can even cook something!" you asked excitedly.

"Your room...?" He asked hesitantly. Your room was usually off limits, that's where you go to relax on your own, away from the pack. He couldn't deny how much he wanted to be there with you. But part of him knows it won't end at just being in your room. Not that he had a problem but that he was worried from Scott's reaction if he knew Isaac was in his sister's room alone in the house. Scott and Isaac were best friends and Isaac didn't want to risk it, but he still loved you.

you saw the look on isaac's face as he started to look overwhelmed, and more anxious than he was, so you decided to cool it down. "I mean it's okay but if you don't want to that's fine. we can sit in the living room" you shrugged, leaving the decision for him to make as you looked at his eyes.

Isaac nodded slowly, looking at your lips then your eyes. "your room" he said softly and carelessly. He wanted to be with you alone. he didn't care what scott would think, he didn't care what the whole pack would think, he only cared about you and being with you, he wanted you.

you smiled and tilted your head for him to follow you. you walked past Scott's room until you reached your room then you walked to the bed, After taking off your shoes, sitting on the bed, then patting on the space next to you for Isaac to sit on.

Isaac followed you to your room, closing his door behind him. His heart skipped a beat when you asked him to sit next to you and the only thing he could think of is how nervous he is. he looked at you and he thought you look so vulnerable, sitting alone waiting for him to join you, so he took a few steps, trying to regulate his breath before sitting next to you. He was so close and nervous, slowly turning his neck to look at you.

"so.. what would you like to do?" you asked softly, trying to make sure he's not uncomfortable.

Isaac looked at you and for the first time he has walked in the room, he didn't know what to say. A part of him wanted to kiss you and see what happened but he didn't want to make you pressured, and he didn't want to risk kissing Scott's sister, he was the leader of the pack, so he let the silence between you linger before he decided to break the ice.

"can I be honest with you?" he stressed.

"of course, I won't judge" i nodded in reassurance

Isaac struggles to speak so he leans closer to you. He just wants you to understand him, he needs you to know how he feels, what he's been thinking of, but it's hard for someone like him, someone whom emotions always were rejected. He took a deep breath and leaned closer as his eyes fluttered between your lips and eyes then he opened his mouth to speak but he failed so he looked one more time at you before smashing his lips on yours as he moved one hand on the back of your neck as the other ran over your back to your hips, pulling your whole body into his lap while you froze in shock before pulling him closer, cupping his cheeks while you kissed him back with the same amounts of passion.

After a few moments he pulls away, and looks at you in shock, he had expected everything other than you kissing him back.

"I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have kissed you and if scott finds out he's gonna kill me and-" you cut him off pulling him in another kiss, slowly pushing him to lay down as you move on top of him.

"Scott doesn't have to know" you whispered pulling him in a deeper kiss that made him forget everything.

he was in a daze as he pulled away from you. "you look so beautiful when you kiss me like that" he said softly with a soft smirk that caused you to blush.

He smiled softly as he gently ran his fingers thorough your hair. "you're so beautiful you know? it's just so hard to focus on anything else when we are like that, when you're with me. We can take this as slow as you want"

you pulled him for a kiss in response, breaking it as you smiling against lips, and he moaned softly, slipping his hands under your shirt, caressing your soft skin.

"i want this. you. Right here, right now, But I also don't want to hurt you so tell me what you want, darling." he whisper in your ear as his breath hit your neck, causing you to shiver.

"i want you, please" you whined and pulled him into another kiss as your tongue begged for entrance in his mouth. he let out a soft involuntary moan, as his caresses on your back got faster. His tongue danced with your and he began to grind on you, making you feel the hard bulge in his jeans that rubbed your throbbing pussy, until you pulled away from the kiss breathlessly, pushing him up by his chest, reaching to his shirt, playing with a soft fabric slowly. He sat up on his knees in front of you between your legs, taking off his shirt. You looked up at him, slowly placing the balm of your hand on his chest, tracing your finger over it to his stomach. He let out a low groan while he watched you trace your fingers over his chest, his muscles tensed under your touch.

"you're killing me honey" He whispered, moving closer to you as he kissed your neck slowly, then he sat up again as his hands found their way between your legs. Should undo your bra, or maybe start with these pants?" he teased, and sprung his claws out, moving them swiftly above you, tearing off your clothes.

"i loved that set" you pouted and he smirked

"i'll get you new ones" he pulled your clothes off your body, tossing them away on the floor with his shirt.

He smirked when he saw the blush on your face when you looked away, leaning down to your neck. "don't be shy baby" he whispered, before tracing kissed down your collarbone.

you moaned softly, moving your hands to caress his back softly and he let out a sigh against your skin. His hands found your thighs as he rubbed them slowly, kissing lower and lower. His kisses and nibbles reached your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth, swirling and sucking around it while he groped the other one with his hand, pinching the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger teasingly.

"I love you, so much" He showered your stomach with smooches and pecks, until his mouth found your slit, running his tongue through your wetness, humming in satisfaction. "so wet baby" he flicked your clit with his tongue as you struggled to answer him back, running your fingers through his hair as you pulled them gently. He took one of his hand, wrapping it around my waist to keep me down while he slid a finger in you with the other, slowly and gently, causing you to moan softly.

he sucked your clit harder making you pull his hair tightly, causing him to moan which vibrates against your pussy as his fingers go faster, feeling you clench around them, sucking them in. "Fuck Isaac" you whined. "i'm so close" you whispered, wondering if he even heard you, then he confirmed as he added a finger in, moving his fingers in a scissoring motion, stretching you out as you pull his hair tighter. "Isaac!" you warned, and he understood as you reached your climax, coating his fingers with your cum while he kept his gaze on you then he pulled them out, lapping at your pussy hungrily, taking in your juices.

"you're so sweet baby" he moved up to kiss you as you taste your own arousal. He pulled away from the kiss and you bit your lip, panting for air and you moved your hand to his head, pulling him back down to kiss you, you couldn't get enough of him.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

hope you guys liked this 🎀

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ravcnism · 7 months ago

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HEY uhm.. i've been having this idea.. like imagine kenji sato x m!reader athlete as well? help, i just thought the dynamic would be cute. it could be a rival team on the baseball league or another sports. I just thought it would be cool!

STRIKEOUT. — KEN SATO x Male!Athlete READER

Summary: The Hiroshima Toyo Carp may have a new player in town, but his name is nowhere near unheard of. The prized star pitcher of The States takes the country by storm when he spontaneously shows up against the Yomiuri Giants. Ken Sato’s career is given a run for its money.

# # TAGS: Longform, Enemies to Lovers but like Still Enemies as Lovers, A LOT of Tension, Sports Anime-Level of Ridiculous, Star-Athlete!Male Reader, Author Doesn't Actually Know Anything About Baseball, Sort of a Slow Burn? No Beta We Die Like Onda

# # WARNINGS: Mild Violence, Mature Language, Eventual Smut if I’m Brave Enough, English is not My First Language, Around 2000 Words, Part One of ??

Night fell promptly upon the Sato residence. The sun had tucked itself into the sea and left a trail of gold in its warm, glistening wake. From afar, the ever-lively city of New Tokyo lit up street by street.

Beneath the water, in the basement, a newly-bathed Emi waddled towards her corner of the house; smelling of fresh sakura petals, and cuddling a half-crushed Nissan Skyline GT-R. Full from dinner, and satisfied by her shower, she felt the gentle arms of sleep coaxing her to a nap. With a squeaky yawn, and a stretch of her arm, she succumbed to its calls and laid on her spot on the ground. A very amused Hayao Sato came walking after her. “Silly girl. The bath and snack combo never fails to knock you out, huh?”

Kenji Sato, well-dressed for a night out, entered after. He was preoccupied by his sleeves, fingers fumbling to button them shut. “Remember, Dad. No videos after 10 pm. We can’t ruin her sleep schedule again.”

“Of course, Kenji.” His father waved him off with his cane. “You act as if I don’t know her routine like the back of my hand.”

“I’m just making sure.” He was fixing his hair, then, gelling it into place. His eyes narrowed at his own reflection, trying to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. “And of course you’ve got Mina to help.”

“Definitely, Ken.” As if on cue, the round hovering bot came floating in. “We have everything under control. You needn’t worry about us here.”

Professor Sato chuckled at his son, leaning on his good foot. “You seem to have a lot of nervous energy in you, Kenji.”

The batter sighed, tugging on his collar one last time. “I’m always nervous when I’m not playing.” Deciding he looked alright, Ken left his reflection alone. “No idea why. Might have something to do with my dislike towards things that I can’t control, but I’m not gonna get into that right now–” He shuffled about, searching frantically for his jacket. “Mina, where did I put my–?” An extended robot arm appeared from the floor and handed it to him. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Try to enjoy yourself anyway, Kenji.” Professor Sato had walked over to Emi, who was fast asleep, snoring slightly. He lifted a hand and rubbed her head. “I think it’s good that you go to these games even when you’re not scheduled. I can tell it lifts your team’s spirits.”

“Yeah, well, honestly I’m still trying to get used to it. The whole sportsmanship thing.” Ken sprayed his cologne on. He made a quick jog towards Emi and kissed her cheek. “Sleep tight, Sweetie.” He looked at his dad. With his motorcycle keys now in hand, he walked backwards to their glass elevator. “If anything happens, call me. You know the drill.”

“Yes, Ken,” replied Mina. “We do. Rest assured, there will not be a repeat of last time.”

“Right, right. Last time.” Kenji forced out a laugh. “Look, if she wakes up and I’m not home yet, try to get her to tire herself out. Load up a park. Throw some balls. But no flying outside, please? You know she gets carried away.”

“Understood.”

With a final glance, and a reluctant sigh, he stepped into the lift. “I’ll be back soon.” Leaving her 20-foot Kaiju-of-a-daughter never got any easier — no matter how many times he had gone and done it. He waved his family a quick goodbye, before disappearing from their line of sight.

His dad was right. It was good that he was going. The Giants had a game to win.

"Good evening sports fans! Ladies and gentlefolk, we welcome you to the highly anticipated matchup between the Hiroshima Toyo Carp and your Yomiuri Giants.”

The stadium was bright and buzzing with excitement. Ken was used to the energy, but he never grew tired of it. There was something almost magical about having this many people in a stadium together. Something electrifying about hearing their collective voices. Whether or not he was set to play, the crowd was what grounded him into focus. He adored their cheers, regardless of who it was directed to.

“We’ve got an intense start to the game so far, the home crowd doesn’t look too happy with Tateoka’s second strikeout.”

“How's it looking?” Ken appeared beside his teammate, Yuki, who was watching the game by the barriers.

“Bad. We're dying out there, Sato. Tateoka's our second batter. We're down one strikeout.”

Ken's brows knitted together, intrigued. He had gotten here a little late and missed a good chunk of the first inning. He had missed most of the commentary, too, so he was pretty much left in the dark. All he knew was that the home crowd didn't look too cheerful. And neither did Coach Shimura. ( Though technically, he couldn't remember a time when Shimura looked anything less than disappointed. ) Ken settled into his spot, nursing a canned soda.

The pitcher’s back was against him, his jersey name too far for him to read. He couldn't see who it was. Ken took notice of their form. Their figure. “Wait, who's throwing again?”

His teammate dropped a name so familiar it sent Ken choking on his drink.

“Fucking, who?” He dropped the name of a famous star-athlete. A name he saw on billboards, news reports, articles. A name so expensive it put his vintage cars to shame. A name with a strikeout rate so disgustingly high it had the best teams falling to their knees. A staggering 1.75 ERA. Almost zero walks. Your name, sent a shiver down Ken Sato’s spine. You, the Mets’ notorious Bullet, now a surprise player of the Toyo Carp.

He watched as you turned around. Your face came into view. You were frighteningly calm. The Giants’ batter was one strike away from an out. Kenji swallowed thickly. “When the hell did he get here?”

“Yeah. Apparently they traded him to Carp a week ago. Didn't get much buzz for some reason.” Yuki scoffed. “Think they covered it up? Element of surprise? It was a pretty big move.”

The fact that Kenji had never been put up against you before was sheer dumb luck. That's what he thought, anyway. Despite the fact that the both of you had been celebrities in The States, the seasons just never aligned well enough to get the both of you to play at the same park. But he hadn't dreamed of it. Who in their right mind would? Like a bullet from a gun, your pitches were unstoppable. You had a mutant-like control over the ball. There were studies on the physics of your technique. Even the best batters would miss your throws. And at that moment, as he watched his teammate strike himself out, Kenji wondered if he'd miss, too.

He wouldn't have to keep wondering. Understanding the weight of your presence, the Yomiuri Giants opted to bring in the calvary.

“Sato.” Ken flinched at Shimura’s voice. He looked over his shoulder, facing him. “Locker room. Get dressed — I'm calling you up.”

He laughed, nervously. “You sure that's legal, coach?” He wasn't scheduled to play today, and spontaneously entering a non-player into the field was only allowed upon certain circumstances. Like an injury, for example.

“Of course it is.” Shimura grumbled. “Tokuda just broke his arm.”

The mentioned Tokuda stood behind him, sipping on some soda, with his obviously not-broken arm. “You heard the man, Ken. I just broke my arm.”

Ken grimaced, heading for the door. “The press is going to love this…” Japan's finest batter, versus The States’ fastest pitcher. Oh, this would make the headlines for sure.

Kenji did as he was told. He walked into the locker room, then walked out in full-attire. The speakers crackled to life. There was a steady rise in the crowd’s demeanor. People were slowly piecing the situation together. The announcers were losing their minds. “And It looks like — oh my goodness, folks. I don't believe this. Ken Sato has been called up into the field!”

The stadium went alight. Ken walked into the park and wondered if the lights were a little brighter than usual. He was doing his stretches, rolling his shoulders. His bat was handed to him and he flipped it in his hand. He allowed the cheers to boost his energy, and perhaps a bit of his ego.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we might be witnessing baseball history tonight! Two of the opposing team’s star players have come face to face for the first time ever. And it's happening right here, right now.”

You met his eyes. Ken’s breath hitched. You were so… intense. He couldn't properly describe it. You watched him move into position like a lion stalking its prey.

“Will Sato stop the Toyo Carp’s brand new Bullet? Or will he walk out of this game bleeding?”

The trick was to look them in the eye. A pitcher was no different from a batter when it came to a game. They shared the same weight of responsibility. The only time a stadium is silent is when they're standing face to face. Like a duel. One of Ken’s techniques was staring them down and reminding them that he was a force to be reckoned with. He was Ken Sato, for crying out loud.

Unfortunately for him, you were unshaken. Which he would’ve been offended by, if he were younger and more immature. No matter, he had other things to look for. Like the cues. Each pitcher had their own cue; a sort of tell that told Ken what kind of throw they’d be going for. He didn’t hit those pitches out of pure luck. Contrary to popular belief, he was actually thinking these games through. There were a plethora of things to look at. A pitcher’s stance, their position, which hand they were using. In an easier game, Ken would be able to read these pitchers like an open book.

But if you were a book, then you would've been written in a different language. He could find no such cues. He didn’t really have anything to calculate. You were as unpredictable as you were quick. None of his usual techniques seemed to be working on you.

The last resort: keep your eye on the damn ball, and freakin’ swing.

You held your hand outward, fingers pointed at him. There was a kind of hunger in your eyes, an expression that made Ken’s heart skip a beat. Your focused glare made him feel as if a red dot had appeared on his forehead. Like you had marked him for prey. It felt… personal. Like it wasn’t a part of the game, and you were only pointing at him. A threat. A dare.

You pulled your pitching arm back. He swore he heard a gun cock. The stadium went quiet. The crowd held its breath. So did Ken. He tightened his grip on his bat. He waited, eagerly, for you to make your move. He was counting the milliseconds, watching you, anticipating your throw, waiting for you to shoot.

And you did.

Ken blinked, and the ball was gone from your hands. He released the breath he was holding through a disbelieved scoff. He turned, and the catcher had stumbled slightly, holding your ball. The crowd grew into disarray, a rising cacophony of cheers and boos. They just couldn’t believe it. Ken Sato not only missed your pitch, but wasn’t able to move at all. He couldn’t even swing. You were too fast. Too abrupt.The ball was a white blur, there a moment, then gone the next. It wasn’t an issue of the curve, nor the direction. It was just too fucking fast.

His teammates couldn’t believe their eyes. And neither did his coach. Ken craned his head to look at you. You stared back at him, stone-faced.

He took a breath to regain his composure, resuming his earlier stance. He would never admit it, but he was rattled. He was trying to understand how that throw was humanly possible. How he had somehow forgotten to move. He could do nothing more but stand haunted as he heard the resounding “strike one!” from the umpire. This wasn’t the first time he’d missed, but it was the first time he froze. It was a spectacle to all, and a moment of horror for his fans. Did the Unstoppable Ken Sato finally meet his match? Even if he did, he was determined not to lose a second time.

“Okay,” he whispered. He took a deep, focused breath, slightly shifting his stance. He kept his feet firm on the ground, bat at the ready. “Okay, Hotshot. Bring it on.”

You kept your eyes on him and him alone. You stared at him as if you were the only two people in the stadium. The crowd went silent once again. The Giants fans were desperate to give Sato the focus he so-terribly needed, but the Carp fans were just curious to see how the second pitch would go. The air was thick and heavy with tension.

Like before, you threw your hand out, fingers pointed at Ken. You drew your pitching arm back, like an archer, and there was that sound in his mind again. The cock of a gun. Ken waited. He counted you down. He was a hunter dressed in camo, waiting for a deer to move.

Then, for the first time since he’d seen you, your expression changed. You grinned at him.

Then you winked.

Shit.

You threw the ball. Ken swung.

But he missed.

The crowd erupted into chaos. There was an indistinguishable pandemonium of disdain and celebration. People screamed and jumped and waved their banners as high as they possibly could. A number of them had already entered a state of acceptance — the Giants would lose to a perfect game. No batter would ever get through the wall that was you. But a lot of them kept their faith in the ever-notorious Sato. He could hit the last shot. He could pull this off. He might have been struggling to match your speed, but he would figure it out. They believed in him like he was a god.

And at that moment, as Kenji heard the echoing “strike two!” he certainly felt the anger of one.

Did you just fucking wink? Did you seriously have the audacity to wink at him? Kenji took it personally. Who did you think you were? Though his lips spoke nothing of the foul words he wished so eagerly to shout, it was clear on his face that he wanted you gone. It was one thing to embarrass him with a fastball, but another to rub it in. He wouldn’t let that slide. He wouldn’t allow you to strike him out.

Yoshimura was gripping the barrier so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.“Eyes up, Sato!”

Kenji breathed. Through his nose, this time. He drew a long breath into his entire body and blew it out through his lips. He wouldn’t miss. He couldn’t miss. While he might have already taught himself the humility that came with losing, he hadn’t taught himself jackshit about losing to you.

“If looks could kill,” whispered Ami Wakita, the reporter who watched the game from the press booth. Typing into her laptop, she wrote: “There seems to be obvious tension on the field. Nothing new for Ken Sato, yet, significantly different. Japan’s star player has finally met his match. This game has been a long time coming.”

This was his last chance, and he wasn’t going to waste it. Kenji raised his bat, and narrowed his eyes. You weren’t blind to his added efforts, and smirked at him again. Oh, how it made his blood boil.

Point.

Pull.

Throw.

Swing.

This time, the ball made contact.

The crowd blew up once more, exhausting their lungs as they watched the ball fly across the field. Kenji had hit it. Kenji had managed to catch your bullet-of-a-pitch. He dropped his bat to the ground and ran for his life. Base to base, corner to corner. Kenji leapt across the field and jumped for home.

“Safe!”

The crowd went wild. He had heard stadiums cheer for him before, but he didn't think he had ever heard anything this loud. With a relieved laugh, Kenji got up from the ground, and finally caught his breath. His teammates ran to greet him, though they had only passed the first inning. With a round as intense as that one, they felt it was only right to celebrate a little early.

And then he looked at you. Your eyes met. You were smiling at him again. He didn't like the lack of concern on your face. He didn't like that you didn't seem challenged. And he especially didn't like the fact that he was out there playing for his life, while you seemed to have played for a weekend game at the park.

Kenji was glaring at you, as if he was burning holes into your head. You lifted a hand and threw him a casual salute, flicking two fingers towards his direction. Dammit, he thought. That wink really threw him off. Which it shouldn't have.

Unfortunately for him, the game was nowhere near the last time you'd interact.

And there'd be the after-party to boot.

#ultraman rising #x reader #kenji sato #ken sato x male reader #kenji sato x male reader #ken sato #ken sato x you #ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader

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umnitsa · 8 months ago

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Dirty old man

Summary: Joel is on his seventies, but he still has needs.

A/N: Ok, so. One pic made the rounds in one of the discord servers I frequent and it made me wild, I won't lie (it was a pic/meme with aged Pedro Pascal). Highly inspired by @toxicanonymity's GILF!Joel (mine is a bit of a perv, but this isn't really a dark fic). It was also inspired by @atticrissfinch's MMITB (I wish I had a fraction of her talent for dirty talk, but I'm not even a native speaker of English, so I do what I can). Now you go read them both, I ASSURE YOU it'll be a good time. Huge thanks for all the people that cheered me on with this: Toxi, @romanarose, @beefrobeefcal, @gwendibleywrites, I love you all. (I must admit that I don't know if I'll ever continue this, honestly, although part of me wants to get to the sex scene. xD)

Pairing: No outbreak old man!Joel x Reader

CW: Joel being bold, dirty talk. That's it <3

No beta, we die like lonely writers xD

It wasn’t a bad job.

Sarah wanted to hire you to take care of her father, Joel. He wasn’t that old, but years of hard work in construction gave him some mobility issues. Sarah worried he spent too time alone, and that he could fall, get hurt and trapped without help because of his pride (which seemed to be a real possibility, considering Joel didn’t want to lose his independence in any way).

You were supposed to get the night shift, which was nice. The night shift was calm, except when it wasn’t. Sarah assured you she talked to her father, she wanted to introduce you to him, before you started working.

You prepared for war, if the man was as stubborn and grumpy as his daughter described.

Sarah introduced you and the old man looked at you over his glasses.

“You sure this pretty thing can lift me off the floor?” He asked, a crooked smirk stretching his lips. You considered answering him, but he raised his face defiantly and winked.

He was teasing his daughter.

You chuckled, to Joel’s delight. Sarah hired you on the spot.

***

Joel was grumpy most of the time. You could understand. Getting older was specially hard on some people. Losing their independence seemed to be a horrifying blow.

You admired the family pictures displayed on the walls and the bookshelves. They showed a younger Joel, large and proud, wearing tight tshirts that showed his big arms.

He didn’t change much, to be honest. His hair now was completely silver, as his beard. The wrinkles didn’t spoil his roguish smile. He was on his seventies, but looked younger, somehow. You blamed his brown eyes.

***

“You know what I miss most about my youth?” He said softly one day, entering the living room. You were looking at his pictures. He slowly moved by your side and placed a hand over your back, rubbing gentle circles. “All the pussy.”

You turned to him, astonished at his boldness. He smirked, then shrugged. You felt your face getting warm and a different, slick, syrupy warmth pooling on your lower belly. He licked his lips and sighed.

“It was easy to get pussy with those looks.” He pointed at one picture of himself and smiled proudly. “Didn’t fuck as much as I wanted, or as much as I could. Tried to be a good dad. Don’t regret anything, but... Oh boy, I miss it.” He looked you up and down, his smile turning appreciative.

“Thought old pervs like you liked tiny thin teenagers.” You scoffed.

“Only dumbasses want those.” Joel chuckled, his hand sliding lower on your back. “I like them older. Like you. With those eyes, like you know and did everything under the sun.” Joel hums, closing his eyes. “Get them cockdumb and they cry so sweetly… Mmmm, the surprise in their wide eyes...” He licks his lips, watching your reaction. You laugh, trying to hide your own arousal.

“Well, Joel, I think the preference is because they are supposed to be tight.” You said firmly, standing your ground. You refused to look shocked, and you saw no reason to scold him, at least not yet. Maybe it was your pussy talking.

Joel leaned over you slowly; you stayed very still. His warm breath tickled your ear.

“After a certain size, honey, everything feels tight.” He said softly, grabbing his half hard cock through his pants. You looked down and gasped, noticing the girth of his bulge inside his huge hand. Joel stepped back, smiling proudly, and moved into the house, dragging his feet. “Lemme know if you want a ride, sweetheart. Them blue pills are easy to get.” He turned and winked at you.

#maycore #mayb writes #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #peepaw can fuck #with some help #but he really can #dirty old man joel

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ghouljams · 3 months ago

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And I Can Only Think of You (Act II End)

Words: 5.3k Tags: Knight!Ghost x Princess!reader, Keegan x f!oc, knight fights, tournament violence, blood, love confessions(sort of), shitty dads, König being a creepy weirdo, major character injury, no beta we die like [redacted] Summary: Your stage has been set, the player take their places, and suddenly decide to improvise.

< prev part Masterlist

The flags are raised first. Tents follow. Then the knights and their squires, then the arena and brown dirt that will so quickly become darkened with blood. You watch the set up from the castle, content to think through your plans as fences are raised and benches are built. Your mind is made up, wheels in motion, and players taking their places. You have every confidence in Ghost.

Perhaps you should have that same confidence in yourself, but… one step at a time. It’s hard to turn around a lifetime of conditioning. You have to remind yourself of your convictions, remind yourself that you’re worth the same confidence you offer your knight. Yet, too often you find yourself hoping this is a terrible dream that Ghost will wake you up from, and you’ll find yourself back in the forest with him.

Suddenly bandits and assassins seem so much easier to deal with. “The enemies you know” as the saying goes.

You’ll find your confidence when this is all over, when you have proof of your abilities. Until then you have your embroidery.

It shouldn’t surprise you that your Ghost is popular. He’s at least a head taller than most of the other knights, standing proudly and directing his subordinates in that lovely deep voice, of course there’d be women that admired him. You don’t know why there needs to be so damn many of them though, especially this early in the morning. Your heart clenches so tightly in your chest you think it might have stopped. You wonder if you’ve made a grave mistake, a mistake of the heart that you don't know how to recover from. Until he spots you and his dark eyes lighten with a flash of warmth that may as well melt you.

You feel so suddenly like yourself, like that damsel he’s always been so dutiful in his protection of. A princess running from her father’s attempt at a marriage arrangement and leaving her slippers with a stranger. Even with that dark cloth over his mouth you know Ghost’s smile by the crinkle of his eyes. You clutch your token close to your chest, something you should have given to Ghost when he'd been taken off your detail. You’d thought he’d be wearing your colors at least, but the cool flash of his armor holds no green besides the reflection of grass under his feet. You tip your head to look up at him, letting his dark eyes hold your gaze until he reaches to smooth his thumb between your brows.

“What are you frowning about now?” He asks, the low rumble of his voice warm and teasing. The leather of his glove under the cool steal of his armor only makes you pout more. He’s always touched you so easily, too easily if the rumors around you two are to be believed, but it’s never warmed your skin like this. Your fingers dig into the token you’d fashioned, nearly crushing the embroidery under the weight of your nerves.

“I’m merely anxious for the tournament.” You tell him, and earn a crease of his eyes, an amused hum.

“Have I ever disobeyed an order from you, my lady?” Ghost asks, his fingers slipping from your forehead to trace your jaw.

“Of course not.” You frown. You feel strangely… scolded.

“Then trust me,” He tilts his head, “You told me to win, and I intend to.”

The cold determination in his eyes washes over you like a chill. You’ve seen those eyes too many times, caught the fury in them as his sword splattered blood over his helm. It’s the same look he’s held every time he’s saved you from certain doom, and you want nothing more than to give into it, to let him save you once more. What once held your hopes now feels burdensome in your hand. You wish-

No, no more wishing. You made a promise to yourself. You're not going to be that scared little princess anymore. You're not going to wait on someone to save you. You're in charge of your own destiny, and if you want something you have to take it for yourself.

“You’re not wearing my crest,” You change the subject, leaning to inspect his cape, or lack thereof. Ghost huffs.

“Never would’ve made it out of the barracks if I ‘ad.” Your father’s doing you’re sure. Anything to keep Ghost separated from you, unburdened by responsibilities to the throne. Despite his new position as captain of the knights he doesn’t wear the royal crest. Disavowed, abandoned by the throne he serves. Ripe for a new king to swoop in and claim him.

“Well,” You nod, reassuring yourself, “it’s a good thing I came around then.” Another satisfied hum from Ghost, approving. It leaves your cheeks burning. You hold up the deep green fabric clutched between your fingers, the long strip embroidered carefully with the curling ivy and white dahlias that make up your personal crest.

“Just in the nick of time,” Ghost makes no move to take it, “was worried one of the other ladies would tuck theirs in my belt first.” It’s a joke, but it stalls in your brain. His hand drops to his side, fingers tugging at the leather belt looped around his middle. Making room for you to slide the banner in.

“Oh,” You stall, beg yourself not to stutter, without finding a single word to stutter on. You glance around at the other knights, house banners and lovers’ tokens hang off their belts. It makes sense, capes would get in the way of combat, but something simple like a flag on their belt…

You glance up at Ghost, feel his stare like a two ton weight. He’s teasing you, you’re sure. The same dry humor that made you throw sticks at him when you made camp. Horrible jokes.

You look down at his belt, watch his hand raise out of your view, feel his fingers pluck at the hair peeking out from under your circlet. Your own fingers go to his belt, calling his bluff as you thread your banner over the leather, and tug it into place. He leans to press his lips to the strand he’s pulled free, his shadow makes a chill run up your spine, and you feel the tug at your scalp as you shudder. You try to look busy making the banner lay flat, picking at the forest green until it’s perfectly draped over his belt, your crest on display for all to see.

Your fingers won’t pull away from him. You will them to, but there they stay.

“Thank you,” Ghost says, his voice a low murmur. You nod. His gloved finger traces over your cheek, tips your head up to meet his eyes. “Where did my confident lady go?” He teases you.

“Waiting for her father.” You mutter.

Ghost hums, his distaste clear in the tone. You fidget with the banner on his belt, enjoy the nervous flutter in your stomach as his fingers stroke your cheek. You don’t know how he does it, how he can be so steadfast. There’s never a moment where he’s wavered, never a time you’ve questioned his devotion to you. Ever since you met him, you’ve known that Ghost was here by his will alone and no one else’s.

Maybe that was why your father hated him. The one man in the kingdom who held no allegiance to the crown. Who never would have taken his commission if he hadn’t wanted to. Who told the monarchy “no” with as much mirth as he did conviction.

“I have to talk to the priest,” You tell him, hoping mention of your errands will help move you.

It doesn’t help to move Ghost. His hand stays as it was, the worn leather covering his knuckles skirting over your cheek with painful care.

“What do I get when I win?” Ghost asks.

When, you remind yourself, not if.

“Hopefully whatever you want,” His eyes crease at the edges, warm honey brown making your heart patter, “so start making a list.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You have to look away from him, your cheeks far too warm to allow for eye contact. It takes his hand from your cheek, gives you the strength to pull your hands from his belt. You can’t hang around him all day. Both of you have roles to play, proverbial swords to swing.

“Good luck my lady.” Ghost mumbles. The heat of his hands following you as you hurry back to your retinue.

Your lady-in-waiting smiles at you, takes her hand off your knight’s arm. You note that her family’s crest decorates his belt with, perhaps, too much interest. You’d noticed them growing closer, but not that close. Your knight covers the banner with his hand, and you force your eyes from it to smile at your maid.

"You have everything prepared?" You ask her. She nods.

"Of course m'lady." She twists to unhook the pouch she'd brought, producing a scroll for you.

You'd been worried after your letter to Ghost, that she might resent you. You've known your lady-in-waiting since you were a child, but knowing who you could trust was difficult when your father's grip on your life only seemed to tighten. Still, she'd been steadfast in her allegiance to you, and almost excited to help you in your scheming. You're sure you've been too clear in your affections for your knight, clear enough to risk her as well, it's nice knowing she's in your corner. Even if you hadn't thought she'd been there.

Maybe she weighed her options. Though you're not sure how you won if she did.

"Who's with my father?" You ask Keegan. He makes a face, his nose scrunching his mask in distaste.

"Graves."

"Perfect." You take the scroll from your lady-in-waiting and turn to find the announcer.

"I'm sure he'd be chuffed to hear that," Keegan tells you with an almost audible eye roll.

You're sure he would be. Just like you're sure Graves is doing his best to shove his entire head up your father's ass with how much he kisses the damn thing. That man has his eyes on knight captain, and you're sure your father has already let him know that the position will be open shortly.

Not if you have anything to do with it.

You spot the bored looking priest that's been assigned to announce the contest. Impartial in that he seems uninterested in all of it. You couldn't think of a better puppet than one who seems so keen on staying out of the actual event. Who better than someone who won't question changes because they simply do not care?

"Priest," You wave him down, dissatisfied with the placid smile he turns your way as you walk towards him.

"Princess," He greets.

"My father asked me to deliver this," You hold the scroll out to him, he nods once, a slow and steady bowing of his head. You detest it. Your fathers name carries God's weight. "König had some changes he wanted made to the prize." You smile. An explanation that's unasked for, short and sweet for a man that cares only enough not to crush the paper in his hand.

"Of course." The priest agrees. Inept, you think. There's no chance the man checks your switch, even less that he checks with your father about it. You won't be sad to see him go when your father decides to behead him after the tournament.

You nod, the priest bows, you part ways. You count yourself lucky that his ineptitude extends to his desire to pray for you.

Your lady-in-waiting sticks close to your side as you make your way to the sheltered seats reserved for your family. Another point of luck that you're sitting beside your mother. You father is too busy with his attempts to impress König to notice you settling in your chair, though you do see König's eyes flick to greet you. Mad dog he may be, at least he keeps track of his surroundings.

Your stomach ties itself into knots as your parents are plied with wine. You decline your own glass, too nervous to entertain even thoughts of alcohol. You may throw up. Your confidence, or lack thereof, in the priest is waning the longer you wait. Maybe he's peaked at your alterations. Maybe he'll send a page to alert your father. Maybe you'll be locked in your room for good to prevent any further scheming before you're sold to the highest bidder.

The priest takes his place, carried by long divinely purposeful strides, in the center of the arena. If nothing else, at least he's loud.

You tune out most of the drivel he spews. Artfully copied word for word by your lady-in-waiting from the real scroll, you really should ask where she learned such forgery, it's all praises for the king, the day, your god on high. Worthless. Less than worthless. At least the paper holds value, the ink, the time taken, but the words themselves? God. Get to the important part.

"The prize-" The priest screeches, "-which shall be allotted in full to the victor alone, announced to the people by their gracious and loving king, heretofore and forever regarded as the divinely appointed ruler of the land, shall be His Majesty's only daughter's hand in-" The priest stalls, stutters, stares at the parchment and finishes weakly, "-in marriage."

There's silence.

Then chaos.

The knights in their pen turn to you with such pinpoint precision you'd think they'd practiced the movement. You keep your eyes on the priest. Of all the eyes on you, you feel your father's the heaviest. He nails you in place, unable to speak a word over the raucous excitement of the crowd. The crown princess, finally to be married, and to a knight- no, the best night in the land, no less. It's like a fairy tale.

If you can survive it.

Your eyes dart to the pen, to the stoic figure of your knight, his eyes fixed on the priest as well. His hand is clenched tight around the hilt of his sword. Even with all the excitement he stands like a statue, his gaze level. If you didn't know him better you might mistake his stillness for calmness. He's thinking, calculating, weighing his odds. You told him to win, he'd already known what he had to do, but this- this changes things. Chaos is harder to account for.

He turns your way, his eyes dark when they lock onto yours. He gives you a short nod, and you feel the weight of it settle in your chest. Ghost turns back to the arena and disappears behind the helm he presses over his head.

You haven't seen it in ages. Burnished steel, the white pattern of a scull pained over the front, and his eyes flashing cold in the shadows. He cuts a fitting picture, your father's nightmare given human form. He has no one to root for now.

You turn your attention back to your family. Your mother hides her shock behind a facade of calm, her eyes fixed on her people with a placid smile. You never had a chance to truly ask her- no matter. Your father hides his contempt well. Practiced at it, you suppose. König has his cheek resting against his hand, his lips curled over his teeth in an approximation of a smile. You've seen monkeys in caravans make that expression, baring their teeth the way their human handler has taught them. Some part of you feels glad to have earned some semblance of his approval, as detestable a man as he may be. At least someone is having fun.

You wonder what human taught him to approximate a smile. You can't imagine his kingdom has many saints, but his handler must be one of them.

You'll try to enjoy yourself as well. After all, you're soon to be betrothed to your knight. You can't think of a better man to hand your future to. Ghost has never let you down, and you can't see him starting now.

That's how the first match goes.

Your knight swings his sword with such practiced precision that it sends his opponent's flying from his grip barely moments into the fight.

Not to be outdone the rival knight lunges for him, and you taste bitterness on your tongue when Ghost brings his sword down hard on his rival's helm. The poor fool is crushed, sent sprawling flat on the ground with the imprint of Ghost's hilt decorating the back of his helm. The cheers are as violent as the match-up as Ghost raises his fist to the crowd, his sword hung lazy at his side. You can almost feel the smug air radiating off of him. Similarly, you can feel your father's ire poisoning the air around you.

You care little for the other matches. Tournaments are only fun when you have someone to root for after all, and when it's your life hanging in the balance you find yourself looking away from the lecherous gazes of the other challenging knights. You can't find it in yourself to feign an interest in their matches.

If your mother is to believed you shouldn't have to.

Rumors of your attachment to Ghost are the very reason he was taken away from you. You're sure the other knights know all too well who you're rooting for. If it weren't clear from the banner on his belt, surely they'd know it from the gossip that floods the castle. It's only their own greed and lust for your crown that gives them any hope at all for taking your hand at the end of the day.

One thing is for sure. You've never seen a tournament so bloody.

The knights fight like rabid dogs. If they cannot disarm their opponent they will attempt to kill him, searching for the breaks in their armor and beating their sword into the bends. Men beat each other with their fists, they batter each other with maces, they claw for every scrape they can achieve until the priest yells for them to stop.

You watch Keegan dodge a particularly deadly blow from a larger knight, his eyes wild with bloodlust. It makes your skin crawl to think such a man might ever force his way into your bed. Your only saving grace is watching your knight swing his sword, twisting with the grace of a dancer to hold his blade against his opponent's throat.

You suppose it's good that Keegan has no dreams of the monarchy, content as he is to pull your lady-in-waiting's banner from his belt and press it to his helm. He could give your Ghost a run for his money.

One of the servants offers you lunch partway through. You bundle bread and sweet meat into your handkerchief, and pass it off to your lady-in-waiting to take to Ghost. You're sure he's resigned himself to hunger, and you'd rather he keep himself in fighting shape.

You smile when you catch your father's eye.

There is something pleasant about going against the man. Not pleasant enough to go so far as killing him, despite König's suggestion, but satisfying nonetheless. Your father has always seemed larger than life, untouchable in his judgement, but now you see him as exactly what he always has been: a man in a fancy hat. A man without half the strength that your Ghost has. A man that could crumble under the weight of a sword.

Your father has strength in his eyes, but straight backs can be broken as easily as hunched ones.

You hear the sickening crunch of yielding bones and catch the way Graves jerks and twists at his opponent's arm under the hollering jeers of onlookers. The man screams out in pain, and your father's knight releases him. Only to plant his foot against the knight's chest and kick him to the ground.

The priest calls the match, and Graves moseys to fetch his sword from where he threw it. He wears your father's --the monarchy's-- crest on his belt.

You look at your father, his smile proud beside your mother's wide eyed horror. He turns to look at you.

“A late entry,” the king tells you, “but quite impressive, don't you think?”

You don't think. Not on your life would you think your father's pick impressive. Not with the way he saunters towards your stand and leans against the banners. His blue eyes now black, swallowed by his pupils, look you up and down like a hog for slaughter.

“Y'know princess,” he smiles, “I always thought you were a pretty thing. Guess now I'll finally get to see you without the big guy staring me down.”

You shouldn't entertain that with a response. You keep your eyes firmly on the priest as he announces, silently, the next match. Your hearing rolls with the crashing of waves, the thrum of your blood circulating and rushing against your brain, trying to find purchase for some new brilliant plan. Trying to find reason against your faith in Ghost. You find nothing but your own affection.

“You will lose.” You assure Graves. He hums, his smile unwavering. Unnerving. He pushes away from the banner covered fence and pats the knight coming into the area on the shoulder.

You won't let him or your father's bastard-airs dissuade you. Ghost has fought twenty men and come out unscathed. He's rescued you from far worse than Graves could throw at him. Besides, the only good Graves has done in his life is give you someone to root against in the tournament.

And root against him you do. When you aren't cheering for your Ghost(and Keegan, bless him) you're cheering on whatever poor soul is stuck facing your father's pick.

With each rung the knights climb towards your hand the matches grow bloodier. Men seem less afraid to go against the rules of combat, more willing to darken the dirt with their opponent's blood. You watch Keegan take a nasty blow to the face before managing to disarm his opponent. When he flips the visor of his helm up you're treated to crimson staining his brow, flooding his eye such that he has to call for a cloth to clear it. Your Ghost too, seems to grow harsher, his goal --your goal-- closer with each victory he achieves.

He batters one opponent with his sword still sheathed, beating the other knight into submission with a singular focus that you so rarely see. Still, he seems to be the only one to avoid spilling unnecessary blood on the field. Your sword raised carefully against your subjects, rot excised with surgical precision.

Graves holds none of the same delicacy.

Yet he turns to be sure you're watching with each man he injures. His hand raised to you --to your father more accurately-- as if to more openly show off his ruthlessness. Even the mutt king seems impressed with him.

"Scheiße," König hums, his smile still biting into his fingers, "What is it you English call it?" He asks your father, "Cutting the same clothes?"

"Yes I was rather brash at that age too," Your father agrees, so smug, the bastard.

"Oh no," König's smile, now at least, seems to fill with joy, perhaps he can only do that when faced with someone else's misery, "It is my clothes he cuts from."

It's the first you've seen your father hesitate. His eyes draw to Graves' grin, his helmet tossed and his cheek wearing the blood of his victory. It drags a path over his teeth, and you know you'll see the pink tinge of his spit in your nightmares. It's as if this is the first he's seen his personal guard without the blinders of stopping your betrayal.

And what can your father say? That he hopes Graves isn't? That König is the last kind of king he'd ever want to hand his kingdom over to?

He glances at you.

That he'd want to hand you over to?

He is still your father after all. It's the first time in years you've seen the same concern he held for you as a little girl. The first time you think he's looked at you as something other than a tool for his own political gains. You wonder if he's wondering: Can he really hand his daughter over to a man like König?

To a late entry?

You look away from him, and to the man your father had so cruelly put forth to win you. Not because he thought you were a particularly good match. Not because he had a particular fondness for Graves. But because he hated Ghost. You wonder if his own petty resentment is good enough reason to hand you to a man with blood in his teeth.

All the more reason to cheer for your own men.

You pay little attention to the rest of the matches. You gossip with your lady-in-waiting and do your best to ignore the rest of the world. You only know when Keegan has taken the field again when your friend stops talking. She looks so worried you'd think he was facing the devil himself. Serves you right for ignoring the matches, you suppose. You must have missed the dark lord's summoning.

Turning to the field you do see the problem. He's up against Ghost. If this were any other tournament you might feel bad rooting against the poor fellow, but as it stands you can't find it in yourself to hope Keegan wins. You have neither the desire to marry him, nor the desire to take him from your friend.

It's probably best that he puts up a lackluster fight. His grip is loose when Ghost's sword swings, and much like the knight in the first round Keegan's sword goes flying.

The two men stand facing each other before Keegan lets out a long breath.

"Oh no!" He yells, "Not my sword! God not my sword!" He makes an exaggerated showing of shrugging, "Oh well, I suppose the match is yours."

You snort. It's good that he has his knighthood to fall back on, he certainly has no future in acting if that performance is to be believed. Still, your lady-in-waiting cheers loudly for him as he exits the field. You cheer as well, falling into your friend's laughter even through the nerves that grip your stomach.

You look at the tournament board and watch your crest move to the final round. The tree finally reaching its inevitable conclusion. Ghost is going to win just like you told him to.

Your eyes flick to the other side and land on the royal seal just as Graves is announced in his own semi-final round.

You know in your heart that he'll win with the same understanding that you know fire will burn you and the sea will swallow you whole if you let it. It is a fact that cruelty like his rarely goes punished.

You stand from your seat, you can't watch this match. No matter how short it may be, you can't watch. You can't see that man win again.

You go to find Ghost.

There's a page fussing over him when you make your way to the knight's rest area. You don't recognize them, but you don't spend much time at the training grounds. Ghost spots you immediately and waves off the boy to greet you.

"Go back to your seat," He advises, though there's no push behind his words.

"I wanted to congratulate you." You grin and see his shoulders lower slightly, softening beneath the armor.

"Thank me after, my lady," You can hear the smile in his voice even behind that horrible helm, "I'm only following orders."

"You're following them beautifully." You reach to fix the drape of your banner on his belt, and see him tilt his head in your periphery. His hand raises and he brushes the steel knuckle of his glove against your cheek. Soft despite the cold, unyielding material.

"The other knights think you've fixed the tournament." He mumbles.

"I have," You tip your head back to look at him, trying to find the warm copper of his eyes through the slits in his helm, "I put you in it."

The huff of breath Ghost lets out is as close to laughter as you'll get from him, but it warms you all the same. He turns his head away from you, surveying the field of defeated knights. All men he'll be commanding as king soon, men who must envy and revere him in equal measure. You're sure how it must look to them, but perhaps it's better they think they lost due to some predestination rather than their own inability.

"You should head back," He turns back to you, "No need to hear what your father's man has been saying about you."

Your stomach churns, "What's he saying?"

"Nothing he won't pay for." Again you can hear Ghost's smile, and it settles your nerves. You nod, gathering your strength around you.

"Then I'll be waiting for you," You assure him.

"You'll never have to wait again when this is over."

You push up onto your toes, and press your forehead against his. The bend of his back must be painful under the layers of steel, but you're sure he'd agree it's worth it for a small parting comfort before you turn to hurry to your seat.

You're only too happy to see the field bare when you make it back. Your lady-in-waiting is beaming in a way that makes you think perhaps she paid her own knight a visit.

Your father's crest has been moved to face your own. An inevitability, but one that you find your confidence bolstered on. You have Ghost's assurance, what else could matter?

König leans forward in his seat, his eyes sparking with excitement next to your father. There's a tightness on your father's lips, nerves in his eyes. You've never known him as a man who shows fear, but perhaps that's just because he's never been on the losing side. You're sure to cheer particularly loud when Ghost takes the field once again. Your father doesn't even stand for Graves.

The priest gives his spiel, the knights bow before the king, and you stand to smile at the crowd when the prize is reaffirmed. Your hand in marriage, and the whole kingdom as a result. You're not surprised when the priest nearly runs from the area, not when both knights draw their sword as soon as they raise their heads.

You can't say who swings first, only that the clash of their swords is deafening. Both knights hold the other back before Ghost squares his shoulders and swings again.

Graves deflects.

Ghost swings.

Graves deflects. Swings.

Ghost deflects.

They trade blows that make your ears ring. Their swords swung with such force you can almost see the flex of muscle under their armor. You can see why your father has kept Graves close, he's a talented swordsman, but he isn't Ghost. Graves is fast, following the momentum of his swings. It's flashy compared to Ghost's technical perfection, hollow with wasted movement.

Ghost takes a step back and you watch him switch his grip. In all the years you've known him you've never seen him change hands, but when he twirls the blade you see an ease of movement that seems supernatural. It's enough of a display to make Graves lunge forward.

You remember Ghost telling you once that the only true rule of combat is to win at all costs. That chivalry is for those that can afford a loss. There's no weakness in the way Ghost moves, and you have no doubt in his ability to win.

He side steps Graves' attack, his sword raised to bring the hilt down hard on Graves' shoulder, and stops as his armor's straps pull tight

and snap.

You watch with the rest of the helpless audience as Graves flips his grip and plunges his blade deep into Ghost's side. Slicing the metal clean through through the back of him dark with the sheen of blood spattering onto the dirt like a waterfall.

It's not the cling of swords the rings in your ears as you leap to your feet, but your own shrieking. It follows Ghost to the ground as he settles hard onto one knee. The shouting of the crowd is a deafening cacophony of "Blood! Blood! Blood!"

And your world crumbles into a single point as Ghost's helm tips to stare up at your father's victory.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #x oc #cod x oc #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #knight!ghost #princess!reader #f!reader #medieval au

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redtsundere-writes · 5 months ago

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Part 15: The Failed Plan

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering.Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Beta-read.

Word Count: 8415 words.

A/N: Sorry for posting late. This was a long boi to edit plus it was my b-day lol

Also, thanks to Luna, my new beta reader, for the help!

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

“Yorozu, wake up.” Without having opened her eyes, she recognized her mother's soft voice in the morning. “Come with me to the market, Yorozu.” She shook her foot to wake only her up, who slept peacefully on the edge of the bed next to her twin sisters.

The golden light of the sun blended with the green plush grass and the white wild flowers of the large open field. The few trees around created abstract works with their delicate shadows. The little birds, hungry and romantic, sang in the distance, announcing the arrival of a new day. Yorozu rubbed her eyes to get used to the little light that entered through the windows, decorated with soft cobwebs that she had forgotten to remove the day before. She saw her mother confused at the foot of the bed, ready with her broken basket to go to the market.

“Nice try, mom.” Yorozu crawled back into the blankets her grandmother had embroidered for them years before she died. “The market isn’t open yet at this time. Goodnight.”

“Yorozu!” Her mother scolded her, losing her patience, waking Mimiko and Nanako up in the process. “We have to go,” her mother insisted before giving Yorozu a smack.

“What’s going on?” Nanako asked in a sleepy mumble to her, as her twin sat on the edge of the bed.

“She said we’re going to the market,” Mimiko replied, confused as to why they were leaving so early.

“No, you girls don’t have to go. I just need Yorozu,” her mother replied, trying to pull Yorozu away from her sisters.

Yorozu looked at the small calendar her sisters had drawn on the wall and quickly realized what day it was. The day she had patiently waited for had finally arrived. Today was harvest day. She sat on the bed to decide her next move if she didn't want to be taken to Sukuna's castle.

Unlike you, who always tries to see the good side of people, Yorozu has always seen the bad side of people. You can't trust anyone when they live under the tyranny of an evil being who lets curses run free, eating humans without rhyme or reason. You can't trust anyone when other humans are always going to prioritize their own lives over others. Humans can become horrible creatures under the influence of panic once resources run out, like her own mother.

"Are you going to sell me to the king…?" Yorozu asked her mother directly, who was stunned that she realized so quickly. "… like Y/n?" Yorozu inquired.

"I've already told you thousands of times that Y/n left on her own. She left a farewell letter and everything." Her mother pretended to cry as if she missed her daughter.

Yorozu knew she was evil inside. She never faked it or denied it. That was why she always found it so easy to tell her own kind apart. At the end of the day, she was her mother's daughter. No one was surprised that a narcissistic and selfish woman would end up raising her lookalike. Yorozu envied her older sister because she had dad's personality, a strong, protective, and kind man above all things. Secretly, you were always his favorite, the only one who put her big girl pants on at the time of his passing, someone who always cared about others before herself unlike every other human she knew. You were like the ones who would die to protect her family.

“Put the crocodile tears aside and accept what you did.” Yorozu faced her, standing in front of her with her arms crossed over her chest.

Her mother smiled at the great offense. She couldn't believe that her own daughter blamed her for something so horrible that she had done, but she didn't have to know that. Nanako pulled Mimiko by the nightgown to leave the room to get away from the argument, but the brunette twin still wanted to see how the fight developed. Despite being the same age, the blonde was the one who made the decisions for both of them.

“Yorozu, I would never do...!” Her mother tried, but a blow to the face interrupted her sentence. Yorozu shook off the punch as if it was nothing. Her mother looked at her in shock as her nose bled.

“Fine, don't accept it, but I'm not going to let you take me to that prison for your stupid desires. I'm not as stupid as Y/n,” Yorozu said, getting on guard, ready to give her mother the beating she so deserved. “Is this really happening?” Nanako and Mimiko thought in unison as if they shared the same brain.

“I didn’t want it to be like this, but it will have to be.” Her mother put her hair up with a rag, making sure her hair didn’t get in the way of her vision. “Since you were of no use to me to move forward, I shall take you out so you don’t get in my way. This wouldn’t be happening if you had accepted King Gojo’s hand.”

Yorozu let out a war cry before launching herself at her mother. It was supposed to be a fistfight, but like any fight between women, they ended up grabbing each other’s hair. Yorozu was at a disadvantage because of her long hair. Even though she threw hollow punches, her mother controlled her like a puppet. Nanako and Mimiko watched from the doorway as they cried at the sight of the two members that were left in their family fighting so wildly. The only adults in their lives, the ones who were supposed to protect them, were fighting to the death. They wanted to intervene to stop them, but they knew they could never do anything about it.

Yorozu pushed her mother to the ground, in an attempt to get her hands off of her. She positioned herself over her and continued hitting her anywhere visible. They were clumsy and desperate blows to free herself from her and her uncertain fate. Her mother ended up receiving them as she did not have the speed or strength to resist. The cries of her twin sisters only infuriated her more. “This wouldn't be happening if Y/n was here” Yorozu thought furiously before continuing to hit her mother.

“No matter how many times you hit me, I'm going to sell you. Whether you like it or not!” Her mother threatened her while her mother cried from the pain of being beaten. This brought back terrible memories of her childhood.

The woman didn't know her family. She was banished from her homeland when she turned 6 for not having “what it took” to be part of the family, so she always had to survive. Find somewhere to eat, where to sleep, and repeat. Get on her feet by her own means to show that she had what it takes and much more to offer. She didn't have a cursed technique, but she had courage. Her nose could lose blood in a waterfall, her dress could lose its cleanliness by rolling in the dust and her dignity could be questioned with each blow, but she would never lose hope on herself. She had to do it, she couldn't die without first proving to the family that abandoned her that she could become someone without their help. She was going to get to be part of a family bigger than them, no matter what.

“So you accept it, you stupid old woman?!” Yorozu yelled full of fury.

“I sold Y/n to give you a chance, and you blew it! Damn brat!” Your mother screamed with blood stained teeth.

Yorozu continued to beat her out of anger, while her mother barely defended herself. All of her daughters knew that she had sacrificed her eldest daughter to try to take care of her family before worrying about herself and her future. Yorozu was sick of seeing you reject marriage offers from neighbors for fear of leaving your family after her father's death. She was fed up that she gave away her daughter, who had done nothing wrong, to the devil. The tears of helplessness at being in that situation were too much for her. Being her mother's favorite, she thought that it would at least give her a little more time to get a husband.

The brunette was starting to get tired, but she had to finish the job one way or another. She didn't have many options. She didn't want to run away from her own home so that her mother could then take advantage of the minors in the house. Her mind was pure chaos, and it was going to very dangerous places out of desperation to escape the situation. She wasn't going to give her life so that her mother could get away with it. The only one who could ruin her life was herself.

The situation took a 180-degree turn when her mother pulled her by the hair and pushed her to the ground, taking advantage of her daughter's exhaustion. Yorozu pushed her by the bloody face to get her away from her, staining her nightgown with the blood dripping from her nose, but her mother sought to knock her out with her bony fists. She would take any path to take Yorozu to the castle of the tyrant who was going to give her 100 gold coins for her daughter, with that money they could eat and everything would go smoothly from there.

"Let me go now!" Yorozu said between heavy breaths.

"Make me, girl!" Her mother told her with a sinister smile.

Her bony hands took hold of her neck tightly. A drastic but necessary measure. Yorozu tried to do the same, but her mother did not allow it. She felt like her head was emptying with each useless breath in search of oxygen. She only heard the desperate cries of her younger sisters for their mother to let her go. Her hands searched for a way to get her to let go, but all they could do was claw at her arms.

Her neck was turning purple from the lack of blood circulation, her head was spinning, and she could feel her soul leaving her body. She internally begged her sisters to do something more productive than just cry inconsolably. “I wish I had a knife to kill this old woman” she thought as she looked at her mother's face, blurred by the tears that clouded her vision.

As if by magic, a kitchen knife appeared in her hand. She clenched it in confusion when she realized what it was, but she wasn't going to waste it. Her mother saw the object her own daughter had created to hurt her in shock. “Yorozu has a technique?!” She thought furiously before her own daughter stabbed her in the neck several times.

Blood began to gush out of her mother's airway, drenching Yorozu in the crimson liquid as she caught her breath. The limp body of the woman who gave her life collapsed on top of her. Her daughter kicked her off of her, without any remorse for what she had just done. Nanako and Mimiko hugged each other as they watched their dead mother's body collapse to the ground. Yorozu rested against the floor as she wiped the blood away with the back of her hand.

Seeing her lifeless mother beside her felt unreal. She looked as if she was just asleep. She had ended her life like a magic trick gone wrong. The young woman felt no remorse or worry, just felt an indescribable peace at no longer having to deal with that woman who used them as if they were the golden lottery ticket to escape from her shitty life.

"Thank you for nothing," Yorozu scolded her sisters. They came over to help her up.

“Is she really dead?” Mimiko asked between hiccups from crying from seeing her sister kill her mother in cold blood.

“Of course she is. It won't be a problem anymore.” Yorozu checked her dress, she was covered in blood. “I'm not washing that,” she thought, annoyed.

She had to change. She took off her dress without thinking twice. Nanako and Mimiko were already used to seeing her naked around the house. It was an annoying habit that had started when you disappeared from their lives, since you weren't there to scold her to put on more clothes. They really hated it because they felt she only did it to gather attention from the neighbors, but that wasn't their problem anymore. If an insect bit her in an uncomfortable area, they weren't going to scratch it.

“Now what are we going to do?” Mimiko asked worriedly, wiping away her tears as best she could. Now that her mother had died in front of her eyes, the only responsible adult was Yorozu. She didn't know which thing was worse.

"Isn't it obvious?" Nanako asked sarcastically. "We have to bury mom."

"There's no time for that," Yorozu answered before putting on the first dress she pulled from the closet.

"What do you mean there's no time for that?" Nanako asked, confused.

"Didn't you listen to what mom said? Y/n is in Sukuna's castle, we have to rescue her," Yorozu said as she tied the laces of the dress behind her back.

"Rescue her? And how are we going to do that?" Mimiko asked, making sure that her crazy sister was serious.

"I have no idea, but today is the perfect opportunity to do it," Yorozu answered as she put on her shoes.

Everyone who lived under King Sukuna's dictatorship knew about the day of the harvest. The elders lived worried that their children would give them up so they wouldn't have another mouth to feed, while the children were taken to the castle by their own parents, so the king could do the hard part for them. It was a day when everyone was tense, but not for them. This was the only day they could sneak in without anyone suspecting anything.

Mimiko crossed her arms and looked at her sister from head to toe. Besides being the only sister with blonde hair, inherited from her father, she is the smartest sister in the family. She loved her family, but she knew something was up with Yorozu for as long as she can remember. She is very immature for her age, she plays with boy’s hearts and treats everyone badly, but everyone tolerates her because she is "family."

"Aren't you supposed to not want to go there? There are many curses and the king is horrible," Nanako asked worriedly.

Nanako was very different from her twin sister. Even though she knew something was up with Yorozu as well, she still cared for her. With their mother dead in front of them, they were now alone. It's true that she wanted Y/n back, but the chances of her coming back or even being alive were very low. If she could make Yorozu change her mind, she would.

"Don't worry. I have this now." Yorozu created another knife to fall into the palm of her hand. The twins freaked out at the sight of its power. "I'll get Y/n out of there no matter what and everything will go back to the way it was before," she promised them before stomping her feet to make sure her boots were on properly.

They set off on the long journey once they had laid out the plan. They walked through the long grasslands, gravel paths, and stone roads as they watched the creepy black castle grow closer and closer. As the hours passed, they reached the central citadel. The markets were beginning to open, displaying the finest quality human meat and vegetables at their respective stalls, while the curses walked freely through the streets. They watched the humans with pity and envy of how the humans willingly went into the beast's teeth. If it weren't for the dry law that the king had imposed for the day of the harvest, they would have already been eaten.

The trio of sisters marched with their heads down so as not to draw more attention than they already did. Mimiko hugged her sister by the arm as they followed Yorozu towards her certain death. They heard the malicious giggles of the curses, mocking them. Under other circumstances, Yorozu would be terrified, but now that she had a technique, she felt unstoppable. They approached the drawbridge that led into the castle. Due to the occasion, there was a small wooden hut with several curses lined up, ready to receive the harvest. They all wore shiny armor and the flag with the symbol of the king they faithfully served.

“Who are you here to deliver?” The curse asked her as soon as the eldest approached the stand.

“Myself.” The curse was surprised that she wouldn’t deliver one of the girls who accompanied them.

“Wow… How heroic…” It said sarcastically before handing her the contract to sign. “Sign the contract and the money is yours,” it explained.

Yorozu took the contract to read the small paragraph she had to sign. The contract consists of three rules: The first stipulates that once the compensation is received, the crop belongs to the king. The second is that the crop will not receive visitors of any kind, or the visitors will be executed immediately. And the third is that if the crop dies, no one outside the castle will be notified. A cruel contract made to leave someone with the least feeling of guilt possible. Yorozu was about to sign, but Mimiko stopped her by the arm.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked. Yorozu broke free from her weak grip and signed.

The curse threw the sack of 100 gold coins at her feet for her to pick up. Yorozu smiled cynically before picking up the bag from the ground, showing that she didn’t care in the slightest about its opinion of her. She already had permission to enter the castle, all that was left was to find her older sister and escape together. It would be complicated, but she knew she could do it. She walked up to her little sisters’ height to give them the sack of coins.

“I’ll be back soon,” Yorozu whispered to them before two curses forcibly pulled her into the castle.

And that’s how the rest of her Hasaba family completely disintegrated. Nanako squeezed the small sack in frustration as she watched Yorozu abandon them so easily to pursue a small chance. That simple act made them realize that Yorozu didn’t care in the slightest what happened to them. “Y/n wouldn’t have done that,” she thought, annoyed.

“She's not coming back, is she?” Mimiko asked her sister as they watched the curses throw Yorozu into the courtyard.

“The girl who doesn't know how to be kind or clean?” Her twin answered sarcastically. “She’s dead,” she finally said before taking her hand to go back where they came from.

“Now what are we going to do?” Mimiko asked worriedly.

“We'll bury mom and get out of here,” the blonde decided strongly.

“What if Yorozu really comes back?” Her sister inquired without any resistance.

“That's not our problem anymore,” she answered seriously.

The sisters began their journey back to their home to bury their mother and plan their escape from the land of curses. It would be complicated for a pair of 11-year-old girls, but not impossible.

Today was the day. The day you would have to defend yourself from your sister. You couldn't sleep the night before because of the anxiety of having to face a sorceress with a thirst for revenge. You lay there, staring at the ceiling as you thought of strategies to somehow avoid the inevitable. You paced around the room with your heart in your hand from worry. You checked your archery equipment several times to make sure it was ready in the morning, despite wishing you didn't have to use it.

You couldn't do it. It was too much pressure for you. You couldn't kill your sister. What would your father think of you? He would look down on you in disappointment from heaven for turning you against the family he created with so much effort. Small tears of frustration from not finding a solution to the matter ran down your cheeks as you prepared to eat breakfast. You looked at yourself in front of the mirror as you ironed the red dress with your hands, the lightest of them all. Your eyes looked swollen from spending the night crying and the obvious lack of sleep. You put on some makeup to cover the gray patches and pretend everything was okay. “Don’t worry. Whatever happens will happen,” you thought before heading to the dining room with the little desire you had to eat.

“Good morning, my king.” you greeted Sukuna upon arriving at the table, trying to sound as friendly as possible.

“The king told me to let you know, that’s why I came as quickly as possible.” You quoted Mrs. Inoue in your mind when she interrupted your study session to warn you about what your sister was up to the day before. You looked at your friend who was on the other side of the room and gave her a smile to let her know that you were okay so she wouldn’t worry, even if you felt like you were dying inside.

“Today, I feel like it’s going to be an exciting day, don’t you?” Sukuna asked you with a deranged smirk on his face.

You knew what he was doing, you had realized during the endless night. You clenched your fist under the table. He had promised your sister the same thing he promised you to turn her against you. He knew your time was running out, so he had to intervene somehow to speed up the process. You watched as he smiled at you, proud of his own actions. You were afraid to say anything that might anger him, so you stayed quiet. Your sister was quick to arrive, skipping happily to cut the weird tension between you two.

“Good morning everyone!” She greeted with a smile before sitting next to you.

“How are you feeling?” You asked worried about her well-being. You couldn’t abandon your role as older sister even though she had promised the king that she would kill you.

“Good as new! You were right, I needed a good rest,” Yorozu said. You smiled at her, relieved that she was feeling better after the fight. “Hey, I wanted to apologize for yesterday…”

“Really?” You asked surprised.

“Yes, what I did wasn’t right. I got frustrated, actually.” Yorozu pouted as she hugged you in an attempt to get your forgiveness.

You saw how Mrs. Inoue looked at her with displeasure. You could also see through her falseness, but you wanted to enjoy your sister for one more minute. Forget for a minute that you lived in a castle full of curses. Forget for a minute that you had to study and train until you were exhausted. Forget for a minute that she would kill you at any second. Just two sisters living in the countryside, running through the grassland towards the sunset for one last time.

“Let me reward you for being so patient with me,” Yorozu proposed as she rubbed her cheek against yours affectionately. Her touch was warm, unlike her intentions. “Let’s train together. I’ll do anything,” she promised.

“Okay,” you smiled at her.

Uraume and a few cooks made an appearance in the dining room as they held today’s breakfast. The servant placed a plate of red berry oats with several slices of strawberries surrounding the perimeter of the bowl, elaborately decorated with some blueberries and blackberries. In the center, like the star of the show, was a large strawberry lightly dipped in the whitish purée.

“I asked Uraume to add extra strawberries,” the servant commented, a 50-year-old man with unruly gray hair and a friendly smile. You noticed that he was the same one who had served you your birthday cake. He must be new, since you didn’t know his name.

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” you thanked him, reciprocating the smile.

While you were distracted, Yorozu tried to steal the biggest strawberry from the plate with a mischievous smile. To your surprise, your hand caught her wrist before she could take it. You squeezed it tightly to make her pull her hand away in pain.

“Ow, ow, ow!” She squealed as pulling it away from the fire. “It hurts!”

“I’m sorry, but this is mine,” you declared before taking the strawberry to eat it in a big bite. Yorozu looked at you offended, she was so upset that a vein on her forehead was about to pop.

Mrs. Inoue laughed out loud. Her small eyes hid behind her chubby cheeks from happiness. She wiped away the small tears of laughter as she continued to laugh non-stop. You didn't want to take away the little joy she had in hell, so you let them have their fun, even though it was at your sister's expense. You put on your leather glove, making sure it was on properly as the lady held the bow and quiver. They waited patiently in the courtyard for the servants to bring the straw targets to start practicing. Originally, you were going to do it, but the servants offered to do it for you.

"It was so satisfying to see her annoyed face! I'm sure the others are laughing at her too." She laughed before passing you the quiver to put it across your body. You sighed as you adjusted it so it wouldn't obstruct your arms. Mrs. Inoue stopped laughing when she saw your downcast face. "What's wrong?"

"My little sister said she would kill me in front of the king today."

"Ah, that's right, I forgot about that." Mrs. Inoue facepalmed in disappointment. “Sorry, I must be getting old.”

You rubbed her back as you told her everything was fine. The servants left the weapons warehouse as they rolled the straw targets, leaving a thin trail of straw across the grass. The gardeners, who were in charge of trimming the bushes around the perimeter, put aside their work to help load the target bases. Together they placed the target on the wooden bases.

“Thank you!” You exclaimed from your spot, to which the servants only indicated to you from afar that everything was ready.

You were about to start shooting until you felt the king’s presence around you. You looked up at the bridges over the walls that connected to the watchtowers. The king, Uraume, and Kenjaku were all watching you intently, as if they were waiting for you to do something. You were used to having your training supervised, but this time it was different. Sukuna smiled expectantly at what was about to happen. Finally, after two months of waiting and holding back the urge to kill his sister-in-law, he would see your true potential in all its glory. You gulped as you felt their intense eyes on you. They were waiting patiently for you to surprise them, but you doubted you could do it. You felt like a joker in front of an audience that was about to bore him.

“King!” That shrill voice ran out of the castle to go with him. “Sorry for the delay,” she said, stopping in front of him.

“You seem very excited to kill your sister,” Sukuna told her, intrigued by the unexpected good mood.

“It's a great shame, really, but it's her karma for abandoning us,” Yorozu commented as she waved at you from afar, waving her hand from side to side like a flag. Sukuna had no idea what that meant.

“Yorozu!” You exclaimed on harvest day before launching yourself towards her to hug her tightly. Yorozu was so perplexed that it took her a while to reciprocate the hug.

She still remembered that bittersweet hug you gave her that day of their reunion. You were fine, better than fine. Yorozu thought she would find you in an ugly maid outfit, weak and with blood on your knuckles from hard work. Instead, you wore a beautiful dress, had gained a little weight from eating three times a day, smelled exquisite, and wore a delicate diamond tiara. Your sisters were so worried about you and here you were, living the best life in the castle while your sisters were starving in the countryside.

You were living the life your mother always dreamed for you without you having put in the least bit of effort. Yorozu was more than shocked at the reality of the matter. She wanted to live like that. Having a life where she only had to look pretty and quiet to have the world under her feet alongside a powerful king who does whatever he pleases.

“You're alive!” Yorozu exclaimed once, understanding the situation. Your strong morals had been corrupted by greed.

You couldn't hear her conversation with the king, but it couldn't be anything good. Yorozu smiled at you before creating a bow with its respective quiver with her cursed technique. You gripped the bow tightly out of stress. The battle was about to break out, and you only had one mission in mind: Incapacitate your sister. It was the best option so far. You could keep her alive without her being a constant threat against you.

“Hey, sister! Dodge this!” Yorozu exclaimed playfully, still pretending her role as a clumsy sister, as she pointed her bow and arrow at you.

“Is she going to be that direct?” You wondered about her bad plan, but you should have figured it out. You were dealing with Yorozu after all, she never had a plan. That's why she was such a troublemaker among the neighbors, always doing what she wanted without thinking clearly about the consequences. Ending up in a fist fight over her lousy ideas.

You stopped to wait for to shoot so you could get out of the way in time, but you noticed that she turned on her waist to the left. It reminded you of how Sukuna abruptly moved to kill a servant on their first day of practice together. Without a second thought, you pulled an arrow out of your quiver to aim it at Yorozu's arrow. Your eyes followed the target as you simultaneously released the string. The purple-feathered arrow streaked through the skies towards the head of one of the gardeners. Just a few inches from the fateful outcome, her arrow hit yours, completely deflecting it from its unfortunate target.

Your heart beat with joy at the fact that you had saved the poor man's life, but you were also furious that your sister wanted to hurt an innocent person. She was supposed to kill you, she didn't need to have done that. She had surely done it to get Sukuna's attention with her incredible abilities, but this was as far as she was going. It was time to fight back. Quickly, you took out another arrow to load the bow.

“Everyone! Get out of here! That's an order!” You bossed the servants in a commanding voice, just as you had heard Sukuna order his troops when practicing his strategies.

If Yorozu had tried to hurt one of the servants once, she wouldn't hesitate to try twice. Without hesitation, all the servants fled in terror to take shelter inside the weapons warehouse. The gardeners let the maids enter first, the only one missing was Mrs. Inoue, who faithfully stayed beside you. “She took care of the servants first so they wouldn’t get in her way. Good idea.” Sukuna was satisfied with your reaction.

“Good luck, miss,” Mrs. Inoue said before following the group while you loaded the bow.

“Go, now!” You ordered again.

“I must impress the king!” Yorozu proposed desperately before pulling the string again to hit Mrs. Inoue before she reached the warehouse. You took a deep breath as you looked at the shoulder Yorozu was holding the bow with. The time had come. Your fingers let go of the string while your shoulder was thrown back by inertia. Yorozu looked at the arrow in shock that was approaching her at high speed, she no longer had time to kill any servants. She put down her bow and raised a wall of the same concrete as the bridge to defend herself. Yorozu smiled, proud of her great defense, but it was soon erased when the arrow pierced the concrete and ended up piercing her shoulder completely.

“How the fuck did she do that?!” Yorozu thought, screaming in pain against the ground. The king, Uraume and Kenjaku looked at her surprised that a simple arrow could pierce the concrete.

“It's a good special grade bow.” Kenjaku whistled in amazement.

“It's not a cursed bow,” Uraume answered, somewhat scared as they watched the king's apprentice suffer on the ground.

Sukuna had a big smile from cheek to cheek. His little pawn was turning into a queen. He had never been so proud in his entire life. Her own sister would be the first victim of his future wife. He turned his face to look at you with all the pride in the world, but his smile was also erased when a white-feathered arrow brushed his cheek. Uraume and Kenjaku gasped in shock at the tremendous threat. A small trickle of blood rolled down the king's cheek until it stopped on his chin.

Sukuna analyzed you from head to toe. Your back was straight, your hands gripped the bow tightly, and your gaze was defiant. You were furious, not only with your sister, but also with him for involving her in their deal. You were directly challenging him to kill you because you didn't plan on killing your sister that easily. You could do many things for him, but attack your own flesh and blood, never. If he wanted you to get rid of her so badly, he should let you live after that threat.

Sukuna understood your anger. So much time of senseless orders, humiliation, and anxiety had brought you to the edge of madness, at some point you were going to explode. Sukuna licked his thumb to clean the blood in one go, healing the wound completely. He was going to let it go, but just this once.

"Yorozu," Sukuna called out to your sister as she screamed, she immediately shut up to listen to him. "Are you going to let your sister get away with this after this?" He asked her as he pointed to his hurt cheek.

"Of course not," Yorozu shrieked before stepping down the concrete wall to jump down onto the parade ground. You lowered your weapon as you watched your sister march upright towards you, even though the pain in her shoulder was consuming her. “Poor king, you hurt him because of your bad aim,” Yorozu said before pulling out the arrow, along with a muffled groan of pain as she moved her shoulder.

“It was on purpose,” you admitted angrily. “If I wanted to, I would have shot both your and the king’s heads through.” You raised your bow along with an arrow, aiming for her head.

“Trust me, you don’t want to do that,” Yorozu said, raising her hands.

“Why not?” you asked her.

“Who’s going to take care of Nanako and Mimiko?” Yorozu asked you with a “checkmate” smile. Your eyes widened at the sudden question.

“Where’s mom?” You asked her with a shaky voice as you lost your grip on the bow in helplessness.

“I killed her,” she replied with a smile. You lowered the bow in shock. “I killed her for what she did to you, for what she did to us,” she corrected herself as she approached you before moving her hand back to create a blade behind her back.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You hated your mother for what she had done to you, but never enough to kill her and leave your sisters motherless. You looked at Yorozu in shock as you realized what she was really capable of doing. You thought she didn’t hate you, that she just wanted what you had like any spoiled child, but you realized that she was more wicked than she looked. She was a bitch.

“Thank you,” you whispered to her, causing Yorozu to stop at the strange reaction.

“You’re welcome,” Yorozu replied with a smile.

“No, seriously…” You said before raising the bow again, aiming straight at her head. “Thanks for making this easier for me, bitch,” you replied as you let go of the string while staring at her head.

Yorozu gasped as she partially dodged the arrow as it tore her cheek. She lunged at you with the knife, but you stopped her by putting the bow between the two of you. She was too close to use an arrow. You pushed her away from you before grabbing another arrow from the quiver, but Yorozu was still so close that you couldn’t do anything but try to hit her with the bow. The brunette dodged it before taking the bow by force. They struggled with the weapon in a contemporary dance until Yorozu snatched it from your hands to use against you. She maneuvered it like a spear to knock you to the ground and hit you in the head. You turned to dodge it, but it only hit you in the back, knocking you completely to the ground. You stifled a scream as you felt the sting of the blow.

“You're not as strong anymore, are you?” She asked before wrapping her body in her green beetle armor.

It had improved quite a bit since you broke it with your fist, as not even Uraume's stalactites could pierce it in their brief confrontation the night before. With that on, she already had your death assured. She was about to prove to Sukuna that she wasn't a weakling after all. She was going to fight for that comfortable life you had and the love of the king.

Spending so much time with him, she felt his unconditional love growing more and more. The way he spoke only to her with that challenging tone, looked at her from head to toe, grabbed her tightly and got closer to her body every time they practiced a fight. He was a real man compared to the idiots she has met throughout her life. While he worked on his documents, she wrote him little love poems in her room that she would recite to him at their wedding. Every night, she rolled around in her bed as she imagined the king on top of her, fantasizing about him making her his until the sun came up in the morning. She woke up so wet that she only wished the next night would come soon.

Yorozu kicked you as she laughed out loud at the tremendous happiness that invaded her body, taking advantage of your weakness for having lost your weapon. You could feel Sukuna’s cold look of disappointment, while your only defensive move was to curl up into a ball like an armadillo. You had no chance of winning anymore, this was your end point. You were going to die here. You had a few good last months of life before your sister was about to take them from you. You cried quietly so as not to give your mortal opponent the benefit of hearing your last cry.

“I’m sorry. I have failed you, father, mother, Nanako, Mimiko, Mrs. Inoue, king…” you thought heartbroken as Yorozu exchanged the knife for a sword. “Once you learn, the song will sound more beautiful than you can imagine,” you thought of that day when Sukuna played the piano with you, when he slept with you, when you played chess. You wanted to have more moments like that with him, but that wouldn’t be possible. “I never learned,” you resigned yourself as you opened your eyes slightly while feeling the wrath of Yorozu’s heavy foot. You saw numerous servants in front of the window, watching the beating they were giving you, but you focused on Mrs. Inoue, who was crying while shouting words at you that you couldn’t understand.

“Thank you, Mrs. Inoue, for teaching me many things,” you thought of the year you spent together. In the good and bad times, in health and in illness, in the long days and the endless nights. You had also disappointed her, I wish you could thank her from the bottom of your heart for being her friend despite being so many years apart. “Don’t be silly, girl. You have everything it takes to be a true queen!” You remembered immediately, as if she had slapped you across the face to make you come to your senses.

Yorozu wielded the sword to cut off your head in a single movement, but you stopped it by grabbing it by the edge, cutting your hands deeply. Even though you had a leather glove on your dominant hand, the sword sliced through your skin all the way to the bone. You bit your tongue to keep from screaming in pain as the sword bathed in your blood. Yorozu struggled with you so that the sword reached your neck, but you focused on her wrists. You kicked her wrists despite the muscle pain so that Yorozu would let go. As soon as Yorozu stepped back, you got up as fast as you could and grabbed the sword with all your willpower to hold it despite having injured hands. You wiped the tears from your eyes, but ended up staining your face with blood as you heard the cheers of the servants. That gave you the push you needed.

“Are you really that desperate to be the queen?” Yorozu scoffed.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” You asked her. “None of what I warned you about entered your hollow head? This is how things are in this castle. If I could go back to my quiet country life, I would in a heartbeat,” you announced to her in a voice rough with pain.

“You’re not serious, do you really want to go back to that dump?” Yorozu asked in disbelief.

“It’ll stop being a dump once I take you out,” you answered with a dry smile. Yorozu growled in response before creating another sword for herself.

The air was tense, charged with skin-tingling anticipation, as if the world itself held its breath. Long, sharp swords flashed in the dark afternoon sun, reflecting the steel that was being readied for the final battle. Both of them charged into combat. The first movement was sudden, an explosion of speed and clumsy clashes. The metallic sound of the swords clashing echoed in the air, like a powerful thunder before the storm. The sisters moved gracefully despite their clumsy feet, their bodies flowing from one attack to the next in a deadly ballet.

Your hands bled more and more each time you gripped the sword tightly. Your weak body could barely defend itself from the immense power your sister had, despite having a hole in her shoulder. You stared at her neck as you moved the sword clumsily. For some reason, you couldn't stop looking at that specific spot. It was as if your body was begging you to do it. You wanted to look away to focus on the fight, but your dense concentration didn't allow it. Yorozu, seeing in your gaze that you were lost in your mind, swung the sword backwards with a cry of pain to cut off your head in the middle of a movement. As soon as she raised her arms, you came back to yourself as if you had suddenly woken up. "Now!" you thought before swinging it at your sister's neck.

The spectators gasped as they saw how in a single movement you cut off your sister's head and both arms. A cold chill ran down Uraume's back as they witnessed it. They quickly reviewed the fight they had had with Yorozu the day before, they were one hundred percent sure that the swords Yorozu could create weren't that strong. If they couldn't cut through a piece of dry ice, they couldn't cut a human being so easily. "She... She has something..." they thought worriedly.

Your sister's incomplete body collapsed against the grass next to a waterfall of blood that bathed you completely. You lowered the sword as you breathed heavily. You were starting to feel dizzy, as if you had been hit by heat stroke. You dropped the weapon as you looked at your masterpiece. Your own little sister torn apart by your own hands. You carefully removed your leather glove to see how your hands had ended up, as if you had no idea what you had done. The cutting sheets fell open, allowing you to see that you were only made of flesh and blood like everyone else. You backed away from the body, staggering from the dizziness. You turned around to fall to your knees against the grass to throw up the strawberries you had eaten for breakfast. Looks like those strawberries wouldn't be yours either.

You looked terrible, worse than in the morning. Your face was covered in blood, your hands were wrecked, your dress was covered in your blood, your sister's blood, and vomit from having your sister's blood on you. At least, the colors of those three viscous liquids matched the red dress. You had cried so much that you felt like your eyes had dried up, so you decided to scream until you felt your vocal cords burning. Your sister didn't deserve a minute of silence like your father, she deserved to hear all the pain she had caused you with her incompetence. Your screams broke the wind that filled your lungs, scaring the crows from the trees.

“Fuck you, Yorozu!” You screamed from the depths of your soul. “I just wanted to take care of you, you jealous bitch! Nothing was good enough for you! Not our life, not the neighbor, not King Gojo! You had it all and yet, you decided to go for the worst option! Stupid whore!”

Sukuna watched you suffer, but something wasn't right. Seeing people suffer has been the biggest reason for his happiness in the millennium he's been alive. He thought that seeing you suffer would be the most rewarding thing in his life, but it wasn't. That great heaviness returned to his chest, as if he was about to jump off a cliff. It physically hurt him to see you in such a vulnerable and heartbroken posture. He gulped to try to deal with his pain, but that wasn't enough. Even though he loved watching you, this time he had to refrain.

You broke the helmet of the armor with the sword to reveal your sister's face. Her black eyes looked at you without any trace of life behind them. Your trembling fingers closed them, feeling the softness of her eyes to your touch. You brought her closer to your body to hug her while you brushed her long hair between your fingers.

“I'm sorry... I really didn't want it to end like this, seriously,” you whispered to her. “Say hello to dad or mom for me and our little sisters…,” you said before realizing what was most important now. You growled, getting upset with your sister again. “Damn, I can't say anything nice to you because now I have to clean up your messes,” you told her before taking off your dirty dress to stay in a corset and white bottom to present yourself before the king as clean as possible.

“Are you okay, my king?” Kenjaku asked him, worried.

“Yes…” He answered quietly. At the strange tone of voice, he cleared his throat. “Yes, better than ever. Plan B worked perfectly,” he answered with his usual strong tone.

Sukuna's plan originally came about as soon as he accepted Yorozu into the castle. He had only accepted her as his servant, and then apprentice, to eventually use her as a hostage to push you to kill some of the servants to save her life. The plan fell apart when everyone started to get fed up with her, except you. That's when plan B came in, that you would kill your sister for the sake of others. You were no longer a pawn, but you weren't a queen either. You were a tower faithful to your sense of justice that couldn't be easily knocked down.

"Actually, plan A would have been more fun to enjoy. This plan ended up being a bit sad, don't you think?" Kenjaku asked him, examining his face, which was downcast from the spectacle.

"My king, the lady is approaching," Uraume warned him as he watched you approach the group on the bridge.

Sukuna turned around to face you, but his heart began to beat like crazy when he saw you up close. Your hair unruly against the wind, your eyes red from anger, blood caking your face, your white clothes bloodied, your hands holding the head of a terrible opponent. Your hips moved subtly as you marched fiercely towards him. His cheeks reddened at the thought of the idea that his future heirs would emerge from there. He wanted to fall to his knees in front of you as he looked like a terrible tyrant who would do whatever it took to expand his kingdom. You looked exactly like he wanted you to look at his side. God, he couldn't wait to propose to you.

He reached into his pants pocket to take a small box he was carrying for the moment when you offered him the head of your victim. He was about to kneel immediately, but you did it first. You placed your sister's head in front of you before hiding your face in your aching hands. Sukuna didn't understand what you were doing.

“My almighty king, I bow before you to beg you to let me leave the castle,” you announced between tears.

“What?” Sukuna, Uraume and Kenjaku answered in unison.

Open fanfic commissions!

Masterlist.

tag list: @bbnbhm @pxnellian @kbirdieee2540 @konigswifeyforlifey @kyo-kyo1 @calico-cheriies @imas1mpp @alone-the-honoured-one @vlads-dracula3 @bigraga-sk @nekee-lilac02 @shaazd @airandyeah

(Let me know if you wanna be tagged in the next chapter!)

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silly-little-soul · 7 months ago

Text

Shane accepting himself as a dad

A/N – “Little” thought dump I wrote at the hairdresser today, I'll probably continue it when I find the time

I haven't played sdv in forever cause I can't find the charger of my switch I miss it

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Fandom: Stardew Valley (Shane x gn!Reader/Farmer)

Summary: Thoughts on the lead-up to Shane and Jas moving in with you

Tags: established relationship, tbh reader appears like thrice maybe, some fluff, some angst, some reverse comfort, no beta we die like my activity

Warnings: Some talks about alcoholism and mental illness cause it's Shane, a shit lot of miscommunication, brief talk of Shane and Farmer having own kids, death mention

Note: It got too long so I didn't get to the part where reader/farmer would've been more prominent so this is very focused on the dynamic between Shane, Jas and Marnie

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Thinking about how in the game when you marry Shane he doesn't take Jas with him

I wish she could live on the farm with you, but let’s actually look at that scenario and Marnie's place in it

Shane is Jas’ official caretaker, but with how his mental health and alcohol consume used to be he definitely wasn’t able to fully take care of her, I’m guessing Marnie did most of that. Like Shane DOES really care for her and did what he could, it just wasn’t enough when he got worse. Simultaneously he saw Marnie care for her the way he wished he could've and it just seemed so effortless (it wasn’t, she was just grieving differently). It made him feel like he could retreat from his parental role, have Marnie take it and stop himself from pulling Jas down with him, he didn’t want to be selfish and put her well-being at risk just to be the one playing parent.

Honestly, he was probably right in that decision, he couldn’t have fully cared for a child.

But it’s different now, he’s better now, he’s ready.

He starts spending more time with her again, no longer feeling like he’s a risk to her, no longer being so ashamed. He takes on tasks like making lunch and bringing her to bed more often.

He doesn’t even notice it until Jas, Marnie or you point it out, might write a scenario for that at some point but let’s move on for now

Anyway, he realizes he’s taken the role of a parent for her. And then you give him the mermaid pendant, and he’s so happy that everything is slowly working out.

When he comes home and tells Marnie she is quick to pull him into a tight hug, she’s so happy he’s managing to really turn his life around.

Jas is so so excited, asking when they'll move to the farm

Shane wants to have her come right with him, he's talked to you about it and you were quick to tell him you'd be happy to have her, but he realizes he should really talk to Marnie about that first.

So they kinda just redirect her question.

Later though they sit together and talk about the upcoming change of Shane's living situation.

At Shane’s declaration of wanting to take Jas right with him, Marnie is hesitant and gently suggests that might not be the best idea.

Shane believes it’s because Jas has become a daughter to her, something he actively pushed to happen by making her take all responsibility for the little girl (and for him too, actually), and he figures he doesn’t really have the right to take Jas from her after she has been the one taking care of her for so long.

Except that isn’t the reason at all. Marnie has never seen herself as Jas’ mom. She loves Jas a lot of course and she’ll surely miss her a lot once she moves, but she has never not seen Shane as the one to be Jas’ new parent.

She wants this for both Shane and Jas, but she’s just so worried. She’s seen Shane at his worst and all that has lead up to it, seen him almost get better but then fail again more often than she’d like to have.

She’s honestly more worried about Shane than Jas. What if Shane takes on too much responsibility at once? His new role as a husband, the changes that come with living on the farm, and then he'll also be fully responsible for Jas? She's worried he'll end up feeling overwhelmed and get worse again. And then if Jas sees it this time, oh gosh... (Okay, maybe it is about Jas)

Now bear with me it's about to get a little confusing

Shane doesn't know that's the reason, Marnie doesn't tell him outright to not upset him.

So when she brings up the hint of “are you sure? She can stay here some longer too” he thinks it's because of her relationship with Jas and he's just like “yeah y'know maybe that works” because he doesn't want to take Jas from her after making Marnie take care of her so long, however she thinks it's because he really does think it'd be too much at once.

So they're like “okay good talk” and go their ways and while Marnie is like “okay cool I'll help some more till he feels able to care for her fully” Shane is knocking on your door having half a breakdown like “I fucked up I'll never get to take on the role of her father”

On a side note, he went to the farm and not the saloon, and both of you have a brief moment of gratitude for the fact so let's take a second to appreciate him for that too

Alright, he has been appreciated

But yeah, I kinda hc their communication isn't great in general. It's not for lack of trying (not anymore, it used to be a factor when Shane wasn't doing well) or something causing arguments, it's more so a thing where the two talk and then think everything is fine when they in reality have talked past each other so hard.

It's usually silly, small stuff like chores or something and resolved with a quick clarification and doesn't cause issues – except this time it did.

Anyway, he's at your doorstep, kinda having a breakdown.

You let him in of course, get him some water, gently tell him to calm down and tell you what happened.

His explanation is not very coherent, consisting mainly of him repeating how he fucked up, it might very well spiral into a full on panic attack.

Shane's not usually someone to panic but this is about Jas, who is the most important thing in the world to him, not to forget the only way he knew how to cope is kind of gone.

After a while he manages to explain what's going on more clearly, how he so badly wants to care for Jas the way he should have from the start, but he can't because he made mistakes he can't fix, how Marnie has taken that role and is entirely reasonable in wanting to keep it.

Then he breaks down again.

You don't really know what to do, he's in a terrible state, and what can you say? If the situation was truly how Shane presented it (which you assumed of course) there wouldn't really be much you could do to help.

You end up calling his therapist, he's against the idea at first but caves at your pleading look.

He's put you in situations in which you had to try help him with no idea how to before, hell he's made you fear for his life with this kind of bullshit before! He doesn't want you to go through that again.

In the beginning you sit with him, help explain to his therapist what happened, let Shane lay his head on your chest while talking to her.

When after a while he is much calmer you go make his favorite dinner, waiting for him to finish the phone call.

They make an appointment for Saturday and Shane hangs up, wordlessly coming over to you and letting himself fall into your arms. You have dinner and go to bed, deciding it's better for him to stay with you tonight, and maybe also the next few day. You'll figure out how to go on about this on Saturday.

Meanwhile Marnie has no idea about all of this and tells Jas about the decision (she thinks) they made, how Shane will move to the farm but needs some time to “settle in” as she calls it, and then Jas can move there too later on.

She's bummed about not getting to come along right away but is generally okay with the idea, not much bothered.

This whole misunderstanding is only really revealed when Jas and Shane cross parts the next time. This could be several days later, or the next one which I'm gonna go with.

Unfortunately for Shane, Jas was already planned to come to the farm that day to “help” (aka pet your animals) so she shows up there in the morning and it's. A bit awkward. Not that she'd notice, though.

Inevitably the topic of Shane moving to the farm comes up. It's in bypassing, it doesn't really matter how, but it causes even more chaos.

She says something about how she'll miss him when he moves to the farm, which feels like a punch in the gut to him, cause he doesn't even know she just means in the short while till he gets her over there too.

He tries not to let it show in front of her, it's not her fault, so he tries to play over his reaction by saying something along the lines of “I'll miss you too, but you and Marnie can come visit. If the farmer and me start a family you can come over and-”

And like damn. Not the best thing he could've said in that situation.

Cause up until just know she thought she was coming after him like a month or something later!

Jas' eyes fill with tears and she has such a look of betrayal on her face Shane doesn't even finish his sentence.

“You don't want me here?”

And he's just like fuck lol

In retrospect he doesn't actually know what Marnie told Jas and how she explained the decision to her. Thinking about it she probably didn't exactly go “Hey actually Shane used to be a good for nothing alcoholic so I decided I'm your mom”

But wait, does Jas want to stay with him on the farm?

Because yeah wait!! He did not consider that and how she feels about this.

Meanwhile Jas is now also a victim of the miscommunication between Marnie and Shane (aren't we all?)

Before Shane can think of something to say she's bolting, running back home.

You - who watched the interaction happen - and Shane go after her, coming to the ranch to find Jas crying in her bed with Marnie sitting next to her and trying to coax her into explaining what happened. When she sees you she moves away from her, figuring you two must have a better idea of what's going on.

Shane takes Marnie's place and asks Jas why she's crying.

She looks up at him with a heartbreaking expression and says “You said you'll start a family, but what about me?” (not rlly like that but I suck at dialogue)

And Shane is like “Marnie is your family”

I love him but.... shut up, Shane!!

That blow was so hard both you and Marnie could feel it!

In his defense, he realizes that was dumb as fuck like immediately after.

“I mean... fuck, she's been a mom for you so long, way more than I ever was, I can't just take you away now”

And Marnie stiffens cause like that's the moment it starts dawning on her something didn't go quite right in their earlier communication. And then you notice her reaction and it starts dawning on you as well and you kinda just look at each other like “oh shit”.

Which Shane and Jas are completely unaware of.

“She's not my mom! I don't want her to by my mom”

And Jas is honestly really irritated by Shane's interpretation of their family dynamic because yeah Marnie has taken care of her a long time and she's really close to her of course but she still never saw her as something other than her aunt, just like Marnie always considered Jas her niece.

“Why don't you want to be my dad?”

It's sort of a breaking point for all four of you.

For Shane it feels like in a matter of seconds he's reliving every moment since the day Jas' parents died. They chose him as the one who'd take in Jas if something happened to them. They could've decided on Marnie, but they didn't. In that moment he realizes that maybe his fear of this parental role he really did want to take not being rightfully his was never about Marnie to begin with.

At the same time, Marnie and you decide to finally intervene. She gently pulls him towards the door, telling him they have to talk, meanwhile you sit with Jas to comfort her.

You let her climb into your lap and hug her, just holding her and waiting for Marnie and Shane to finish talking, until she speaks up again quietly

“Do you not want me on the farm?”

And you're of course immediately telling her you do!! You want her there, you consider her family and she goes “I think Shane doesn't” and like no he does!! He's just stupid!

Except you don't say that to her of course cause don't say that to her.

Meanwhile Marnie is torn between hugging Shane because man he's apparently spent years thinking he has no place as her parent and scolding him cause how the fuck did he spend years thinking he has no place as her parent.

It ends up being the scolding (gently though, she does get where he was coming from).

She explains everything to him, from exactly how she feels about Jas to what she meant when she suggested to have Jas stay with her.

“You're her father now. Her parents chose for you to be and she did too. You're her dad, and nothing you or I do can change that”

And it's wild because he realizes he has always refused those titles. He always talked about his parental role or his role as a father, yeah, but he's never dared call himself her dad. But he is, isn't he?

They have a long talk and Shane learns his place in the family was never a question, while Marnie has her anxiety over Shane taking on too much at once calmed.

They settle on Jas staying at the ranch on weekdays and the farm on weekends for the first month, so he can settle and you can get used to having a child around all the time. After that she'll move to the farm entirely, with the promise to have her stay at Marnie's a bit if Shane ever feels like it's too much for him.

He goes back to Jas' room to explain everything to her and tell her she'll of course come along to his new life.

And when he opens then door he sees you sit with Jas – with his daughter - in your arms, petting her hair comfortingly and he's like yeah.

That's his family.

#sdv shane #sdv shane x farmer #sdv shane x reader #sdv x reader #sdv x farmer #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley x farmer #stardew valley #sdv #stardew valley shane #stardew shane #shane stardew valley #sdv jas #stardew jas #stardew marnie #sdv marnie #x reader

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gremlin-girly · 4 months ago

Text

Flufftober Day 1: Lost Pet Meet-cute

Divider by: @cafekitsune

Flufftober prompts are from the wonderful @flufftober page!

Title: Alpine’s Adventure

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Tags: Fluff, Bucky x reader, Meet-cute , Alpine goes exploring, Alpine is the best wingwoman , cat dad! Bucky, gn!reader, Alpine P.O.V, no beta we die like men, flufftober

warnings: brief mention of a panic attack

Summary: Alpine escapes the apartment and decides to go on an adventure to find Bucky the perfect gift, eventually enlisting the help of a newfound friend to help her plan come to fruition.

Word Count: 3.3k (3365)

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive and I may have missed something (though I try not to) so please read at your own risk.

A/N: Well, hello. This is my first official post of my own on tumblr. I won’t blather too much because there’s a pinned post explaining that this is my first rodeo.

The inspiration for this particular prompt came from the opening scene of 101 Dalmations (clearly). This also inspired another prompt - and maybe even a part three. 👀 (can you tell I loved writing this one?)

I hope you enjoy; comments, likes and reblogs are always welcome! Dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

Part 1 (you're here) | Part 2

Alpine's day had been pretty exciting, all things considered.

Alpine loved her dad – no doubt between her furry little ears. However, when her dad left for work that morning, curiosity had finally gotten the better of her as she slinked by him and out the door. In his tired state he hadn't noticed her dash for freedom and she hadn’t expected to actually get outside.

But she had.

The street was loud, louder than it was in the apartment and people walked by so briskly they barely noticed her. Alpine dodged multiple shoes and weaved through legs hurriedly. Some humans scorned her but otherwise left her alone.

Alpine's soft paws tittered over the concrete as she took in her surroundings.

Everything smelled the same, just amplified.

She hadn’t been outdoors - at least, not without her dad– since she was kitten. She couldn’t remember much about her life before she met her dad other than everything was big, it was cold and she had been scared. Bucky had brought a warmth she had only briefly experienced as a kitten. He had taken her in, fed her and comforted her. He had shown a kindness she was unfamiliar with but appreciated all the same. She had attempted to return the favour, on occasion, but apparently dead mice are not appropriate gifts for humans. However, Alpine had found she was better on the nights her dad couldn’t sleep or had a nightmare, sitting on top of his chest and purring gently to help him calm down.

Alpine slipped through an iron fence crunching leaves in her wake and emerged from under a green shrub onto another pathway. This one had strange wooden seats littered along the pathway, looking onto a lake and…

Birds.

There were plenty of shrubs and trees in this area and the humans around seemed to be feeding strange birds on the lake. Alpine hopped onto one of the strange seats and sat down, curling her white tail around her, studying the birds. Perhaps a bird would be a better gift than a mouse. Alpine’s ears flattened as she considered it but eventually decided that her dad would probably scold her and be ungrateful for her efforts as per usual.

Alpine’s tail flicked in annoyance. There had to be something she could gift her dad, without getting into trouble. She eyed the humans who were walking along the pathway with the utmost scrutiny.

Small humans got excited to see her and she had to swat one who was petting her a little too hard. He was tugged away by his mother pretty quickly after that.

Slowly, a pattern began to emerge. There were all sorts of humans, of all ages, but mainly in pairs.Old, young, mother and son, father and daughter, sisters, brothers… they were all coupled in some way. Alpine’s tail tip curled with excitement. She could find her dad a companion. Steve and Sam were okay but she couldn't imagine their hands intertwined with her dad's or doing that strange thing coupled humans were doing with their mouths.

No. Alpine needed to find a new human to be her father's companion. That would be the best gift she could get him.

Alpine leapt from her seat and began her search. The first human she walked by was pretty, but pulled a sour face when Alpine approached and was snapping at someone down the phone. They only stopped to shoo at Alpine.

Too rude.

Alpine huffed, tail flicking is distaste and moving down the path.

The next was a woman who, Alpine assumed, in her prime would have been beautiful. She has feeding some pigeons with a woollen blanket across her lap, large thick framed glasses almost covering her face entirely. Her wrinkled hands shook crumbs onto the floor for the birds, who barely batted an eye at Alpine’s approach.

“Well, now,” The lady cooed as Alpine sat before her. “Aren’t you just darling.”

She held out a knuckle to Alpine, who graciously butted it with her head and allowed herself to be petted ever so gently by the sweet old woman.

Too old. Unfortunately.

After five minutes of fussing, Alpine moved away giving the old woman a small trill of a goodbye.

Much of the next hour around the open area was the same. Some were too young, or too old, were not a good potential match, didn’t like Alpine or were already coupled. Alpine growled in frustration. Maybe she would have to go elsewhere but for now she wanted to go home. Today’s mission was a failure.

There was a loud noise that tore through the park. It wasn’t human. It was angry, gravelly and approaching rapidly.

A dog.

Alpine’s eyes widened in fear as the dog made a run for her, teeth snapping ferociously. She scampered, clawing her way more than halfway up a tree, turning back to hiss viciously and scratch at the dog’s muzzle when it tried to jump for her. It’s human was taking an idle time in retrieving it.

However, Alpine didn’t have to wait very long when she heard a human yelling at the dog, and it’s human. Alpine’s blue eyes narrowed as she spotted the human stomping their way over to the tree.

“Keep your damn dog on a leash!” The human yelled as the dog’s owner tugged the collar of his pet away. The dog’s eyes watched Alpine and continued to snarl.

“Christ, it’s a cat –“

“and you’re an irresponsible dickwad.” The human stood tall, hands on hips as they glowered at the owner. “Dogs at the park should always be on a leash, regardless of how well trained they are. There is a reason for that; protecting the dog and the other people. How inconsiderate do you have to be?”

The owner huffed and muttered under his breath, finally managing to get the dog away. After glowering at the owner until he was out of sight, their features softened and they dropped their hands loosely at their side, turning towards Alpine.

“Hey sweetheart,” they spoke gently, giving Alpine space to jump and vanish if she so wished. “it’s okay. You’re okay now.”

Alpine considered the human for a moment, detaching her claws from the bark and elegantly landing on the ground. She sniffed hesitantly. Alpine could smell so many different things from the human; cinnamon, coffee, another scent she couldn’t quite place and... her cat kibble. This human smelled similar to home. The human offered their knuckle and Alpine bumped her head against it with a happy trill, tail high in the air.

The human laughed and rubbed Alpine’s ears as she weaved around their legs. The human’s smile was warm and gentle; just like Alpine’s dad’s.

You are perfect.

Your day had been relatively mundane. Until you saw an asshole with his dog off leash chasing some poor cat up a tree.

Now you had said cat bundled into your hoodie purring happily whilst you rode the subway, the cat’s little white head sticking out the neck hole to hiss at anyone who came too close to you. Probably not the strangest thing New Yorkers had ever seen, but you couldn’t help but smile at the little furball.

The cat’s tag had noted its name as Alpine but no address, only a phone number. You had made a mental note to call later in the safety of your apartment, however, you had more pressing issues at the forefront of your mind. For example, manoeuvring for your subway tickets whilst holding Alpine in your arms.

“Sweetie, I might have to put you in bath jail.” You tell Alpine, looking down at her tucked away in your hoodie. Alpine looks up at you, as if she’s listening intently to what you’re saying, big blue eyes staring back at you. You melt – she’s so beautiful. Her owner, whoever they may be, clearly adores Alpine; a cute collar and beautifully maintained soft, clean white fur.

“I don’t know if my kitty will like you.” You say apologetically, giving Alpine a small smile. You could’ve sworn she huffed as she looked away from you as you climbed the stairs to your apartment.

Unlocking your door awkwardly, leaning back so Alpine doesn’t slip out from your hoodie, you enter your apartment. Once the door shuts into place, before you can even call out that you’re home, Alpine is wriggling from your grip and out of your arms.

“No no no,” you say hurriedly, dropping your keys as Alpine bounds away from you sniffing.

There's a scampering sound, then bolting into the living area, Apollo appears. His green eyes fix onto Alpine, his usually sleek fur prickling like he was charging static. Alpine’s tail fluffs up like a pom-pom and you watch on with baited breath as Alpine growls warningly at Apollo. The last thing you need right now is a literal cat fight.

Apollo’s ears twitch rapidly. Both cats are frozen in mid-step, staring at one another until Apollo chirps, his thin tail twitching as he bounds at Alpine. He bulldozes into her and she flops onto her side with a soft thud. It takes you a moment to realise that your young cat is playing and Alpine doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, shes tolerating it. You sigh with relief watching Alpine pin Apollo’s excitable self under her with ease. Apollo's legs stick comically out from underneath her, his tortoiseshell patterning making Alpine’s elegant self look like she’s wearing crocodile hot pants with white socks.

You chuckle and snap a quick picture before punching the number you’d copied from Alpine’s collar into your dial pad. You hold your phone to your ear, pacing to the kitchen to make yourself a drink. It rings seven times and you almost hang up before a male voice answers.

“Hello?” The voice is gruff and curt, and you're immediately feeling nervous, wondering if you’d typed in the wrong number accidentally. “Look, if you’re selling something I’m in the middle of-“

“I have your cat!” you blurt and at the risk of sounding like a catnapper, hurriedly add, “I found at her at a park near the Central Cafe.”

“Oh thank God,” the voice heaves, sounding a lot less tense now which helps to ease your own nerves. “I’ve been looking for her for the past two hours. I can call off the search party.”

You chuckle, glancing over at Alpine, whose now pinning Apollo by the head with a snowy paw. “She’s got one heck of a personality, I’ll give you that.”

“She sure does,” The voice chuckles. “Uh, when can I come to get her?”

“Oh – whenever. I can text you my address.” You open the fridge with your phone tucked between your ear and shoulder, pulling out a soda.

“Great. I can come now? If that’s not too short notice?” The person on the other end is clearly desperate to be reunited with Alpine and you don’t blame them one bit. The soda in your hand hisses as you pop open the tab.

“No it’s fine. You want your baby back, I get it.”

“Thanks. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You expect to hear the beep of the call disconnecting, but you’re surprised when the voice speaks again. “And thanks... for finding Alpine.”

You feel a little bashful. You hadn’t exactly found her. More like rescued her and then she’d clambered onto you. “It was nothing. I’ll see you soon.”

“See ya.”

You find yourself smiling smugly as the call disconnects and you tap in your address to Alpine’s parents’ number. When you look up from your phone, both Alpine and Apollo are looking at you.

“What?” You say, raising your arms half heartedly. Strangely, the cat’s are looking like they were plotting something and you couldn’t put your finger on what. With one last curious glance at them, you shake your head and move to the couch; waiting for Alpine’s owner to arrive.

Bucky’s day had been awful.

He was still tired from his last mission when he got called in to work again. He couldn't wait to return home to Alpine. He imagined her waiting for him by the door as usual, waiting patiently for him to walk in from work and bombard him with pleas for attention and treats. He smiled to himself as he unlocked his door. Alpine was the best thing to have ever happened to him and he spoiled her rotten to prove it. He never thought he would be what Natasha had called a cat dad, but he was, and loved every moment he spent with his furry companion.

So when he entered his apartment, calling out for Alpine and having no response, his mind immediately frog-leaped to the worst conclusions. Bucky tore his apartment apart frantically, calling Alpine’s name. With each shout and each room and nook searched his voice became more desperate. Bucky checked all of the windows to make sure they were closed. He checked Alpine’s usual spots. The cupboards. The washing machine. Under the couch. He almost ripped up a floorboard before he realised he was hyperventilating and collapsed to the floor.

His breathing was laboured, vision blurring from both the lack of air in his lungs and the overwhelming feelings of fear and guilt thar plagued him. His head was in his hands staring at the floor wondering how and where Alpine had vanished to.

He'd almost missed your phone call because he was so upset.

Bucky stands outside your door awkwardly. He's buzzing with desperation to have Alpine back in his arms but doesn't quite know what to expect beyond the door. He raps the wood gently, hearing the butsle of you shift off your sofa with a muted "Coming!"

The first thing you do when you open the door to Bucky is smile. That catches him off guard. You step aside and welcome him in, apologising for a mess that doesn't exist and explaining that Alpine was playing with your cat somewhere in the apartment.

"What did you say his name was?" Bucky asks, eyeing an enormous cat tree you'd placed in a corner. He made a mental note to buy one for Alpine.

"Apollo." You reply. You frown and pace around your sofa, clearly looking for something. "Sorry I... they were right here a second ago."

"That's a nice name." Bucky stuffs his hands into his pockets. You hum in response this time. This was painfully awkward.

A meow from one of your rooms echoes through the apartment. It sounds like Alpine. Bucky moves before you do, taking two large steps in the direction of the sound before a flash of fur attaches itself to Bucky’s leg. Bucky looks down excitedly expecting to see Alpine, but his face falls when he realises it's a cat he doesn't recognise. It's Apollo.

Apollo's claws poke through the blue fabric of Bucky's jeans and Bucky could have sworn the cat looked damn smug about it too.

“You little asshole,” You gasp, grabbing Apollo. His back half lifts easily but his claws remain latched in Bucky’s jeans. Even as Apollo is stretched further, his body limply following your hands, he doesn’t retract his claws. He mewls softly and looks back at his pet parent with wide green eyes, that were trying desperately to look as innocent and cute as he could muster.

“I am so sorry.” you grovel apologetically to Bucky, not meeting his gaze. Bucky huffs with a smile. Now he really doesn't know what to do. Your cheeks burn with embarassment as you give Apollo a gentle wiggle. “Let go.”

Apollo refuses and meows in defiance. As if on cue, Alpine trots out from your bedroom rounding on you and jumping onto your back. You yelp, startled by Alpine's sneak attack, and straighten your back to try to shake her off. Alpine perches on your shoulder, sinking her own claws into the thin fabric of your shirt. She definitely wouldn't be moving unless she decided it, and meows triumphantly.

"Alpine!" Bucky gasps, reaching for his own cat. She had never done this before with anyone. He flushes with embarassment as well now. He thought your cat was a smug ass and now his cat was misbehaving too. This day was getting worse and worse.

Alpine mewled in protest when Bucky attempted to tug her away from your shoulder.

"Ow, ow, ow," You mutter, half turning to offer more of your shoulder to Bucky.

"Sorry," Bucky mumbles trying to detach Alpine’s claws; but she'd lift a paw to re-attach it to you shoulder again. What had gotten into her?

With Alpine’s distraction, Apollo sinks his pin-needle teeth into Bucky's leg. Bucky curses and looks down, you fluster and are about to ask what happened when Alpine slinks lower and leaps from your chest; her back legs pushing off you hard enough to send your back into Bucky’s chest. You stumble slightly, and thanks to his training, Bucky catches your hips to steady you. He looks down at you with concern and your head tilts back to look up at him wide eyed and flustered.

The cats have disappeared from beside you both. It's just you and Bucky in the middle of your apartment. The silence is palpable but not uncomfortable. You both are taking in the other's features; truly looking at one another. It isn't until a loud meow snaps you both out of your thoughts.

Bucky releases your hips, blushing and mumbling an apology. You stand up straighter, blushing equally red, also mumbling an apology. Bucky's eyes drift to where the meow came from, only to see Alpine and Apollo sat side by side, watching their parents' interaction.

"I think we've been had," Bucky says, pointing at them. His lips twitch into a small smile and you follow his finger to the cats, whose tails are flicking impatiently.

You sigh, setting your hands on your hips. "I knew they were planning something."

Bucky chuckles. "She's never done that before."

"I wish I could say Apollo hasn't," You smile sheepishly over at Bucky and he can feel himself smiling back.

"He is a little bastard." Bucky glances down at his jeans that have a few small holes from Apollo's teeth and claws.

"But he's my little bastard," you chuckle jokingly and hold out a hand. "I'm Y/N."

Bucky pauses for a moment before shaking your hand delicately with his flesh hand, conscious of the serum and worried about accidentally crushing your hand. "Bucky."

There's another moment of silence as you shake hands, looking at eachother. Bucky watches you swallow thickly and he clears his throat, dropping his hand from yours.

"I don't think the cats want to leave just yet," Bucky says, running a hand through his hair. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so.... bashful.

You glance at the cats, who look like they're trying very hard to be nonchalant.

"No, I don't think they want to leave their play date either." You comment, narrowing your eyes at Apollo before turning back to Bucky. "Would... you like to stay for a coffee?"

"Coffee sounds good, if you don't mind." Bucky smiles again and you smile back. Something inside of his chest twists, and heat creeps up his neck. He watches you move towards the kitchenette, your hand meeting with Alpine’s head as you pass by. Alpine’s eyes close as you scratch her head and she purrs loudly. Your saying something about sugar and milk and apologising for Apollo again but Bucky isn't listening.

There's something about the way Alpine is looking at him, the way her eyes blue blink slowly at him and look over to you, sitting proudly on the counter that reminds him of when she brings him mice. He shakes his head of the thought and rejoins the conversation with you.

Alpine and Apollo share a look; a look of smug triumph that's missed by their parents who are too busy chatting and standing close to on another. Apollo gives a short trill and nudges Alpine with his head. Alpine purrs gently in response. Their plan had succeeded.

You were most definitely better than a mouse.

#Fluff #Bucky x reader #Meet-cute #Alpine goes exploring #Alpine is the best wingwoman #cat dad! Bucky #gn!reader #Alpine P.O.V #no beta we die like men #flufftober #flufftober 2024 #marvel mcu #gremlin-girly writes

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gothamite-rambler · 27 days ago

Text

Spoiler took a punch to the face, sniffled wiping her nose to compose herself, and stood her ground. Her father blinked in surprise, unsure why the daughter he had abandoned wasn't falling or crying.

Clue Master: Um, no, you're supposed to start sobbing.

Spoiler (confidently): Oh, sperm donor, I stopped being afraid of you a long time ago.

Clue Master retaliated by hitting her again, but this time she only giggled, undeterred.

Spoiler: I'm sorry, B, you want to step in? He’s holding back and these toddler punches are insulting me.

Clue Master (shouting): Why won’t you take this seriously?!

Spoiler: Because that’s exactly what you want, and I’m not giving it to you! Or ma's number.

Clue Master: I—

Spoiler: She wanted to know if you’re still a Protestant bastard?

Clue Master: Yes! I mean I'm still protestant! You're the bastard! This is what I get for marrying a fucking foreigner!

Spoiler straightened, taken aback at first, but then calmly cracked her knuckles and removed her face mask.

Spoiler: I want you to see my face when I win this fight.

With a fierce determination, Spoiler charged at her father, and the brawl began. Batman and Orphan watched closely. Batman, ever the stoic, attempted to intervene, but Orphan pulled him back and shook her head.

Batman: Fine. She can have this one.

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chloe-skywalker · 10 months ago

Text

Not My Decision - Stiles Stilinski

Stiles x reader sister

Derek x reader-ish

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,085

Requested: TW imagine the reader is Stiles sister and u get into an accident and Derek turns u into a wolf and Stiles goes against ur wishes and u get pissed at him for doing so and Peter actually takes care of u - @cokecola4211

Authors Note: I enjoyed the concept behind this request, it was ajoy to write. Maybe a Part 2?

Masterlist

Teen Wolf Masterlist

******************************************************************

“Help!” Stiles yelled out carrying Y/n into the hospital. She was covered in blood and therefore so was Stiles.

“Stiles what happened?” Melissa asked as she called a team over with a gurney.

“Just please help her.” Stiles pleaded as he placed her on the rolling hospital bed. He had to watch as they rushed into emergency surgery. Scott had come running in after he had parked the Jeep for his friend. They Both sat down in the waiting room. It didn’t take long for the others to hear about what happened and soon pretty much the entire pack were in the waiting room.

Melissa came out a few hours later with a sad expression. “She’s stable for now.”

“For now?” Stiles asked with extremely worried eyes.

“I don’t know how long she’ll stay stable for.” She hated having to tell Stiles that his sister was basically dieing. Two kids she’s known their whole lives and practically considered her own at times.

“Mom?” Scott stood up with eyes that begged his mom to not say what he thought she was going to say.

“Its not looking good, hunny. I’m sorry. We should probably call your dad, Stiles.” Melissa bit her lip in solace that they’d probably all have to say goodbye.

“What if I could help? The bite.” Derek spoke up, he was very close to the female Stilinski. They were really good friends and if he was being honest he had a bit of a crush on her. Maybe he could save her.

“No. That could still kill her.” Scottt shook his head protesting, not liking the idea at all.

Derek shrugged his shoulders, trying not to show how much the possibility of Y/n dying affected him. “I’m just suggesting. It would be better to try then do nothing and lose her anyway.”

“That’s not what she would want.” Scott argued back. Truthfully he didn’t know if Y/n would want it or not but she would make comments about how it'd be hard being one would make life. Wasn’t that enough? “Stiles, you know that.”

“Do it.” Stiles didn’t care at the moment what anyone thought. He just couldn’t lose his sister.

“Stiles-”

“No Scott.” Stiles turned his head to look at his best friend. Stiles glanced down for a second before he continued. “I know it’s not what she’d want but I don’t have a choice. We don’t have a choice. Plus she trust’s Derek…”

Stiles knew Y/n probably wouldn’t want the bite, not without real thought put into it. But there was more of a chance for her to live. If they don’t do it, she dies. If Derek at least tries she might live.

“We have to try. I can’t lose my sister, Scott.” Stiles pleaded with his eyes.

“If the bite doesn’t take, then we still lose Y/n, Stiles.” Scott tried one last time, but truth be told Scott did think it was worth a shot. Y/n was like a little sister to him, he didn’t want to see her die either.

“At least we tried, because Scott we’re gonna lose her anyway if we don’t.” Stiles stated before turning his attention back to Derek. With a nod he stated. “Do it.”

“Follow me.” Melissa nodded at Derek and he followed her.

It was around 45 minutes before they came back out of the room. This time their faces looked more relieved.

“She's stable and improving.” Melissa smiled, happy to be sharing good news.

“The bite worked?” Lydia questioned the older wolf. Hoping she didn’t have to bury another friend.

Derek nodded with relieved eyes. “It worked. I can sense it. Feel it.”

After all, she was his beta now.

“Good. Good.” Stiles nodded, running his hands through his hair.

“You know she might be pissed.” Lydia looked to Stiles with a knowing look.

“Oh she’s going to be pissed.” Peter stated tauntingly, although he too was glad the girl was going to live. She didn’t treat him like the others.

“Then at least I made the decision that saved her life.” Stiles knew he made the right decision. But he really just hoped she would eventually forgive him.

Eventually everyone went home to get some sleep. Derek stayed and eventually Mr.Stilinski showed up. He showed up just in time when Y/n woke up. He was in there for a while before he asked Derek to come into the room. Which really made Stiles nervous.

Derek left the room not long before their dad did. The two shook hands and Derek left the hospital. Stiles was finally told by his dad that he could go see his sister. For a while the two siblings just sat in silence. Till Y/n spoke up.

“I’m different now. You made that choice for me.” Y/n stated looking down at her hands placed on her lap.

“I didn’t have any other choice.” Stiles stated back. Y/n nodded in understanding and Stiles was grateful that she did. But he still had a bad feeling.

“I need a break Stiles.” Y/n said looking at him with eyes Stiles couldn’t dechirer.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, confused, now sitting up in his uncomfortable hospital chair.

“I’m going to stay with Peter and Derek for a while. I already talked to dad about it.” Y/n explained biting her lip. It wasn’t an easy decision for her to have made but she needed space right now, and she needed Derek to help her learn to control her new abilities. Peter too, oddly.

“Y/n-” Stiles tried to interject but Y/n shook her head.

“I need time to adjust Stiles. To get used to my new life, the changes to my body and mind.” Y/n told him hoping he’d get why she was doing this. Why she had to do this. Y/n loved her brother but this? She needed time. “I also need time to understand your choice for my future. To calm down and be able to control myself. I don’t want to get angry at you and hurt you. You're my brother, we’re closer than close Stiles. We alway have been. But right now, I’m afraid I’m gonna hurt you.”

“Ok” Stiles couldn’t say anything else. She was angry at him and was afraid she’d hurt him because of her anger. Anger at him for the choice he made for her. Even though she was pissed, she was still protecting him.

Taglist: @padawancat97

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we-were-beautiful · 9 months ago

Text

Marry me

Xaden x Sorrengail!oc

WC: 816

Warnings: None just Fluff

A/N: Well I decided to take part in a small writing Challenge. I had fun writing this little blurb and while it has the potential to turn into its own series; I am going to show self restraint by not doing that. The prompt was "I can never say 'no to you" From Jana over at @creativepromptsforwriting

Also fair warning; I didn't send this to any of my betas. So we die like men at this point

Thank you to @skyfallscotland and @justallihere for putting together the Fourth Wing Birthday Bash

Last but not least tumbr is being dumb and won’t let me post from my laptop so apologies about the formatting

“We should get married” I comment wrapping my arms around my beloved’s shoulders, fingers gently tracing along the scars at the top of his shoulders. I look up into his gold flecked onyx eyes and smile widely at him. Was the flight field after lessons the best place to have this conversation, probably not, but I couldn’t help myself. It had been an interesting lesson with a storm about to roll in; the thunder off in the distance rolling. But now with the rest of the third years and Professor Kaori heading back to the citadel, I figured given Xaden a small heart attack would be fun.

Where I would expect to see shock and hesitance on his face I only see a fond smile as he wraps his arms around my waist to pull me into his chest.

“When do you want to get married and how do you want to tell your mother and sisters?” I hadn’t thought of that.

It would be pretty easy to tell Violet. If I could get her away from her squad it would be as simple as that. Mira I could just write a letter too. Shed be pissed at first; she had specifically told me to stay away from Xaden. That didn’t work out since we ended up in the same squad with mated dragons; but Mira could get over it. She’d be happy for me eventually.

My mother; however, I completely forgot about. General Sorrengail hadn’t been a fan of the relationship and she had made it known to me once the word had made it to her office. That had been the only time I had formally gotten called to her office to make her displeasure known; but its been three years. Xaden and I work well together and we have been in love with each other for awhile now. Not to mention we are kinda stuck with each other until one of us dies so at one point or another she’s just going to have to learn to live with it.

I feel Tairn’s amusement in the back of my mind. The old curmudgeon had been riding my ass this last week about acting like a love sick puppy around Xaden. Like his grumpy ass isn’t the exact same way around Sgaeyl.

‘I heard that’ the rumbling voice flows through my head.

‘You were supposed to.’ I felt Tairn’s snout push at my back sending me further into Xaden’ s grasp ‘Tairn!!!’ I can hear Sgaeyl chuckle in my head.

‘I think I shall go get some sheep’ I’m not sure if it is the mighty beat of our dragons wings or thunder, but as the two dragons fly off the heavens open up above us and cold rain begins to pour down. Xaden lets out a hearty laugh squeezing me tightly.

“When do you want to get married love.” He leans down to whisper in my ear repeating his earlier question.

“Want to grab Garrick, Bodhi, Liam and Vi and sneak down to Chantara.” I would do it; grab our family and secretly get married today if he agreed.

“How about we wait until graduation. We can get our family together, before we fly to our post, and have a small ceremony.” He pushes a soaked strand of hair away from my face. “Then it gives you time to let Mira know, so she can try and get leave” leave it to this perfect man to remember that I wanted Mira there when I got married. While Brennen had Mom and Violet had Dad it had been Mira and I against the world. I still had all of the letters we had wrote to each other while she was in the quadrant and then when I started second year. She had to be there on our special day; she would kill me if I ran off today and got married.

“Ok Graduation it is then.” He looks even more breathtaking in the rain as water droplets roll down his skin.

“Alright then lets go Mrs.Riorson.” He lets go of me and moves towards the hidden tunnel entrance.

“Wait.” I call grabbing his hand to stop him. “Kiss me?” Is it cheesy and straight out of the romance books that I brought into the quadrant, yes. But I had always wanted to be kissed in the rain.

“Have I ever been able to say ‘no’ to you.” He gently cradles my face in his hands tilting my face upwards; his lips crash into mine is a passionate kiss. It starts out innocent enough but my hands quickly find their way to his hair and one of his finds its way to my ass. When we break apart we are gasping for breath; Xaden rest his forehead against mine and hazel eyes meet onyx “Marry me?”

“Yes.” I laugh and pull him into another kiss.

#fourthwingbirthdaybash #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson x oc

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dreamofbecoming · 1 year ago

Text

ok fuck it context now on ao3

—

“I’m freaking out, man!”

“You’re what? Why? This is like, what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?”

“I mean, yeah, dude, but now it’s here, it’s happening, and tomorrow it’ll be done and I can’t take it back!”

“Do you want to take it back? Because I think that’s a terrible idea, but if it’s really what you want, I’ll sneak you out the back right now.”

Dustin deflates a little, slumping into the plush chair this weird little church greenroom was nice enough to provide. “No, I don’t want to leave. Of course I don’t.”

Steve puts his hands on Dustin’s shoulders, not massaging, just resting. He doesn’t want to smear too much of his scent onto him before the ceremony, but old habits die hard. Steve suspects he’s always going to want to scent the kids for comfort, even though they’re literally all grown and starting families of their own and don’t need their old omega babysitter anymore.

Case in point, Dustin’s wedding is meant to start in, oh, looks like about 25 minutes, so Steve has to smooth this crisis over double time.

“What’s really bothering you, Dust? You were over the moon yesterday, and the day before that, and every day since you and Susie proposed to each other. Hell, every day since you met! What’s going on now?”

There’s a pause, which is always unsettling coming from Dustin, who hasn’t shut up for more than twelve consecutive minutes in the decade plus Steve has known him, but then he sighs.

“She wants kids.”

Steve’s brow furrows. “And you…don’t?”

Dustin huffs, frustration rising in his scent. “It’s not that I don’t, it’s that I don’t know if it’s a good idea, you know?”

“And you guys haven’t talked about this before now? You’ve been together for like eleven years, dude!”

“We have, of course we have! I’m just thinking about the risks, Steve! I’m a beta, I can’t carry her pups, and pregnancies are dicey for alpha females! What if something happens?”

“First of all don’t call women females, it’s weird. Erica or Nance will definitely smack you for that, and you don’t need a black eye in your wedding photos.” Dustin nods, cringing a little.

“Second, pregnancy isn’t the only option, man, and also it’s her decision. If she wants to carry them, that’s a discussion you need to have with her, but you can’t just shut her down about it. She knew you were a beta when she decided to marry you. She picked you because she loves you, don’t go deciding for her she’s better off with someone else. And besides, if you decide it doesn’t feel right for both of you, you can talk about adoption, or surrogacy, or…I don’t know what all the options are, but I bet there’s tons! Hell, I’d carry for you guys, if you wanted.”

“You would?” Dustin’s eyes get big and shiny almost immediately, and shit, Steve’s gotta shut this down now. The groom can’t be going out there with red eyes and tear stains, Susie will murder Steve on principle.

But he can’t lie to Dustin. Swore he never would, not when it mattered. “Course I would, man, what’s family for? Aw hell, kid, don’t cry, your mate will run me over with her car if your photos are fucked up because of me.”

“I just- I can’t believe you’d do that for me! You don’t even know if I’ll be any good at it!”

Ah, so that’s what this is really about.

“Of course you’ll be good at it, Henderson. You’d be an incredible dad, any kid would be lucky to have you. I mean, your kids are gonna turn out to be nerd city, but that was always a given.”

Dustin gives him a bitchy little eye roll, which was of course Steve’s aim. He still smells anxious, though.

“How can you be sure, though? It’s not like I have any idea what a dad is supposed to be like, you know? It’s why I kept latching onto older male figures, no offense to you and Eddie.”

Little shit. “You should be so lucky, you little twerp.”

Dustin shoves him away, but he’s grinning now, and his scent is slowly returning to the lemon-bright joy that colors it so often Steve just associates it with Dustin’s base scent at this point, so he’ll take the win.

“You really wanna know how I know you’ll make a great dad, Dustybun?”

“Don’t fucking call me that, today’s supposed to be my day!”

“I’m your best man, I’ll call you whatever I want. Seriously though, I have a story for you.”

“A story, huh? I don’t know, Eddie’s more the storyteller in your relationship…”

“I’m gonna go out there and tell your bride to delay the ceremony because you shat your slacks and need new ones, you menace.”

“Okay, okay!” Dustin laughs. “Tell your story.”

“I was gonna put this in my speech later, but I think you need to hear it now, and honestly it might be more about me than you, and I don’t want to steal the spotlight or anything.”

“Not worried about that, but I’m intrigued.”

“You know how when you’re a kid, you learn how to pick out emotion scents by context clues, from like your family and stuff?”

Dustin lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. “Yes, Steve, I’m aware of one of the foundational tenets of our society, which we all personally experienced.”

“Almost fifteen years I’ve known you, and your attitude hasn’t improved one bit, you know that?”

Dustin waves imperiously for him to continue. Steve glares at him, but they really are running short on time.

“You ever know a kid who had like, a gap? Some feeling they had never run into before, so they didn’t know what the smell meant?” Dustin shakes his head, looking curious.

“There was this girl in my class when we were like, seven? Eight? Something like that. Anyway, she borrowed Tommy’s favorite eraser, one of those animal-shaped ones with the faces printed on? He loved that thing. The girl, Cassie, she broke it, by accident. Tommy lost his shit. I’d never seen him so angry. And like, you know how little kids emotions don’t really come through that strong? He smelled like, grown-up angry. Filled the whole room. Freaked the teacher out, too. Everyone’s backing the hell up out of Tommy’s way, even me. But Cassie was just confused. Because no adult in her life had ever been truly angry around her, so she hadn’t learned what it smelled like yet.”

Dustin is listening avidly, looking gratifyingly similar to how he does when Eddie DMs.

“Anyway, Tommy slapped her so hard it left a bruise, got his dumb ass suspended. But I just remember being so jealous, you know? Can you imagine? Eight years old and never knew what anger smelled like. Hell, at that point anger was just what home smelled like to me.”

Aw shit, now Dustin just smells sad.

“Do you remember when I drove you to the Snow Ball?”

Dustin’s got his thinking face on now, trying to figure out why Steve keeps jumping all over the place. Sue him, he’s no Eddie.

He nods anyway.

“Before you got out of the car, when I told you I’d come back to pick you up, you gave me this huge smile, and the car filled up with something I’d never smelled before. Not really, anyway. Maybe like, in passing, you know? Like in the hallway at school, but always faint and never towards me, so I never focused on it.”

Dustin’s eyebrows are totally scrunched up now, little genius brain whirring away. Goddamn brat never had any patience.

“I didn’t ask about it, because I wasn’t sure it was important, and also a little because I felt like enough of a caveman around you little rocket scientist dweebs I didn’t need you explaining feelings to me too, but I kept smelling it from you after that. And from El, and a little from Lucas and Max and even once from your mom, but it was just confusing, you know? I couldn’t figure out what was causing it, so I had no context clues to figure out what it meant.

“And then at Starcourt, after Robin and I went to go puke up those Russian drugs—”

“Ditched me and Erica who were very responsibly trying to wrangle you, you mean.”

“Tomato, tomahto, kid. Anyway, I told her I had a crush on her and she panicked and came out to me, so I switched to making fun of her crush so she would know I was okay with it, and suddenly there was that smell again. First time I ever smelled it coming from her. So after everything was done, I asked her.”

“Oh, so you’ll ask her, but not me? Hurtful, Steve.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, shithead, because Robbie already knew I was a moron, and she was never gonna want to go out with me, so I didn’t need to impress her. I could look stupid to Rob back then, but I still wanted you guys to think I was cool.”

“Steve, buddy, my brother, my best friend, my favorite jock please don’t tell Lucas I said that, we literally never thought you were cool.”

“Now who’s being hurtful?”

“Just the truth, Munson. I tell it like it is.”

“Ugh, whatever. The point is, I asked Bobbie what she felt for me in that bathroom, and she told me that’s when she realized she would love me forever. That we were going to be best friends.”

Dustin looks stricken.

“That’s what I was smelling all that time. Honey. That’s what I smelled in the car in the Hawkins Middle parking lot. You loved me. You were literally the first person in my whole life who ever did.”

“Steve—”

“This isn’t—look, I know it’s kind of sad and pathetic for kid Steve, but this isn’t about that. It’s not about me, okay? It’s about how my whole life turned around the day Dustin Henderson decided he loved me, because he never stopped. Not for a single second of the last thirteen years, and because you loved me then, I have a platonic soulmate and a horde of little siblings and a mate I adore and more friends than I can count on all my fingers and toes! You’re the one who encouraged me to go to cosmetology school, you’re the one who introduced me to Eddie, you’re the one who stood by me and let me crash on your mom’s couch when my parents kicked me out. My life is full of love, and joy, and purpose, and it all started with you, Dustin. I’m here because you loved me, and because once you started loving me you never stopped. I have smelled honey on you every single day since the 1984 Snow Ball, and that’s how I know you’ll be an incredible father. Because if you have all that love for a washed up ex-jock omega nobody had ever loved before? You’ll have all that and more times a million for any kid lucky enough to call you Dad.”

They’re both crying by now. Susie is gonna kill them for sure, but as Dustin buries himself in Steve’s arms like he’s still six inches shorter, Steve decides it doesn’t matter. This is worth it.

There’s a knock at the door, just in time it seems.

“Dingus, baby Dingus, you in there? T minus 5 minutes, boys, stick those feet in the oven if you gotta!”

“Yeah, Bobs, I hear you! We’ll be out in a sec, no cold feet in sight.”

“Roger that, bubba! I’ll inform the bride!” He can hear her racing off, probably dancing with pre-wedding excitement. For a cynical lesbian who has a new girlfriend every month and swears marriage is an archaic institution built on misogyny and omegaphobia, she sure does love weddings.

“You ready, kid?”

Dustin has taken the brief interlude as an opportunity to splash his face with water from the sink in the corner, so he doesn’t look like he’s been crying to into Steve’s shoulder, but Steve makes sure to straighten his tie and finger comb his curls back into place.

“Yeah, I think I’m ready.” He looks at Steve for a long moment, then throws his arms around him one last time. “I’m really glad you’re my brother, Steve.”

Steve squeezes him tighter for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of lemon and cut grass and honey. Of family. Of love.

“Yeah, kid. Me too.”

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mini-munchers · 1 month ago

Text

A Tiny Bundle Wrapped in Pink

Pairing: March x Female Reader

Words: 2189

Warnings: language, situationally appropriate nudity

Summary: March is concerned for you in one of the most important moments of your life. Too bad he can't be there until the very end. Maybe he'll faint a bit too.

Author’s Note: This is my first FOM fic. I am down bad for March. DOWN BAD I TELL YOU. I started this to take my mind off the drabble turned multipart story that I have been mainly focusing on. It's been ages since I have really written anything, so please go easy on me. No beta, we die like dragonsworn.

Ao3 Link

~~~

March sat outside the door of the clinic, a bundle of nerves.

Everyone who had passed by had been filled with a sort of excited glee. The women of the town stepped into the clinic to help, the men stopped by to pat him on the back before heading back on their way. His only reassurance came from Olric who came to check up on him every 30 or so minutes.

“She’s strong, March, she’ll be ok.” “Valen is the top clinician in the area, she’s in good hands.” “Josephine told me it’s not too hard.” “Everything is going to be alright.” “You’re going to be a great dad, bro.”

But he felt bile roar in the pit of his stomach. What if (y/n) wasn’t ok? What if something was going on? Why hadn’t they let him in? It was his wife giving birth after all.

March ruffled his hair in aggravation. This was taking too long. You couldn’t rush a baby, he knew that, but it had been nine hours at this point. He’d rushed you to the clinic around 2 am after your water broke. Valen had left the door to the clinic open just in case and he had called up to her that you were in labor. He’d promptly been kicked out after that.

Nine hours with his thoughts. He was growing unsettled. His arms yearned to pound some metal, just to get some of the energy out. But the furnace wasn’t lit today since he’d brought you in so early. So, all he was really able to do was worry.

Olric stopped by a few more times with well-wishes, but March had only muttered some half-hearted thanks. His mind was still on you. Were you ok? How much pain were you in?

The door to his side swung open and Josephine hopped out, shutting the door right behind her. March stood, eyeing her for any sort of information.

“March,” she said in that ever soothing voice, “not yet. Almost there. I’m running to get some food prepared for her now. She’s doing great.” And with that, she retreated off to the inn.

The blacksmith sighed and let himself sink back down the wall of the clinic, head coming to rest in his hands. ‘You were ok,’ he let the thought echo in his mind, ‘You were ok.’

Olric, his only measure of time besides the sun, stopped by a couple more times before the door finally cracked open again.

Nora stuck her head out with a smile. “March?”

He rocketed to his feet, staring the shopkeep down intensely.

“Is she-?” The words felt uneasy, like he was traversing rocky terrain.

“You can come in now.”

“(Y/N)!” March stumbled over his feet as he ran into the clinic and over to the bed where you lay. You looked exhausted, sweat clinging to your forehead, your face still twisted up a little in pain. He brought a hand to gently cup your cheek. You, his sweet farmer, with a heart of gold.

“She’s fine March, she did great.” Valen called from behind a screen.

Your eyes opened a bit as you smiled up at him and mouthed a breathless “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, swiping away at tears forming in your eyes. It was only the two of you in that moment. He leaned down to rest his forehead against your own, closing his eyes and relishing in the fact you were ok. That you were here with him.

“Worried much?” You laughed, a soft, twinkling sound that floated straight to his heart.

“Always.” He sighed. He moved to kiss you, trying to cram every little thing he felt for you in it. You ‘hmm-ed’ a little as your lips parted, a soft smile spreading across your tired face.

As he pulled away, the sounds of the room started heating up as he became aware of the situation at hand. He’d been caught in a bubble of you and everything had been still, as if time itself had stopped. That wasn’t exactly uncommon but given the place and time…

He saw the empty bassinet next to you out of the corner of his eye and he felt any strength he had drain out of his body. Where was…? No, it couldn’t be. There was no crying, he realized, there was…

“March!”

Someone caught him as he began to fall. Muffled noises rushed around him as his hearing went in and out. His body felt cold and wet, his stomach queasier than it had been all day. His head felt empty as his eyes slipped closed and his consciousness faded away.

~~~

March awoke to a cool breeze on his face and hushed tones at his side.

“March?” Your voice cut through the confusion in his head. “March?”

“(Y/N!)” His eyes snapped open though his vision was still foggy. A firm grasp on his chest pushed him down as he tried to claw his way up and out of the blackness.

“March, calm down.” Valen’s stern voice came to the forefront of his swirling head. “(Y/n) is fine, there is nothing to worry about. Olric?”

“Like hell if—!” March suddenly found himself being lifted off the floor.

“On it!” came Orlic’s chipper reply.

His head rolled to the side, blackness threatening to come back for him. He still felt so weak. He wanted so badly to fight back, to claw his way back to your side, but the darkness…

“His head!” Someone shouted. A firm pressure came to rest behind his head as he felt his body collapse into a soft surface below him.

“March…”

“Roll him over here!”

“March, can you hear me?”

“Someone get some water!”

“Josephine, over here!”

“March!”

He felt himself slip below consciousness once more.

~~~

“Down where the water runs deep

The strawhoppers jump by in peace

I’ll lay you down in the sun-warmed soil

And watch you grow into a flower worthy of the dragon guardian”

March awoke this time to the soothing melody he hadn’t heard since childhood. Just who was singing? Olric? A sudden jolt of pain shot through his head as he tried to get up. He squeezed his eyes and threw a hand over his head, only to find a cool rag resting on his forehead. Shit, what had happened?

“Ah, you’re up. Usually, it’s just the mother who has to be in a bed for these things, March.” Valen’s soft voice cut through the static that roared between his ears.

A calloused hand came to rub soothing circles on his arm. He knew your touch anywhere. “Did you eat breakfast at all this morning, March?”

“Of course, I ate, (y/n), I always eat breakfast.” His statement was met with a quiet “shhh,” which confused him even more. He moved his arm and patted around next to him until he found your hand, taking it in his with a tight squeeze.

“Ok, but this morning?” You answered his squeeze with two tight squeezes of your own. Your normal code for ‘everything is ok.’ But if everything was ok, then why did his head feel so fucking terrible? And why was it so hard to open his eyes? He’d tried several times now.

“I don’t think he ate,” another voice chimed in, barely above a whisper. He’d know that voice anywhere though. Olric. “He was sitting outside every time I went to check on him. And he came and got me right after he woke up Valen.”

“March, you were outside the whole time? That was over thirteen hours!” You squeezed his hand again, only tighter this time.

“I don’t think he had any water either. He wouldn’t take anything I offered him.” Then a quieter addition: “he was really worried.”

March was aggravated. Everyone kept talking circles around him, not clearly telling him what was going on. His eyes finally came into focus on the ceiling. Was he at the clinic? He let go of your hand and propped himself up on his elbows the best the could, trying to look around.

“March!” Valen hissed. “You need to take this slowly. You’re recovering from syncope.”

“Like hell-” he started.

“March!” You said in a heated whisper. “Your voice is too-”

A broken wail echoed through the room.

“...loud.” You sighed. “Give her here, Olric.”

“Aww, but she’s so cute! My little buddy.”

…’buddy?’ March watched as Olric held a blurry pink blanket. He blinked a few times, trying to get his vision to correct. A hand came down on his chest suddenly, causing him to fall back into a lying position.

“H-hey!” March shot his head over to Valen who gave him a menacing stare.

“You are recovering from syncope, March. If you want to see your daughter, I can help with that, but for now, you need to lie down.” H-his daughter? Thoughts of the morning came flying back to him as he rolled his head to the side to see you holding the pink blanket now. “Olric, help me move his bed so we can sit him up a bit.”

“Sure thing!” There was a pulling sensation and suddenly he was wheeled away from you.

“Wait!” He shot out his hand in your direction.

“Hold on, bro, I’ll get you right back over there in a minute. Work with me here for one sec…” Olric repositioned him to be slightly more to the bed’s side and then slowly inclined the bed’s top half bit by bit until March was in a comfortable sitting position on the edge of the bed.

“That’s good, Olric.” Valen called from across the room.

Olric moved back around to the other side of the bed and slowly pushed the bed back towards yours until they met, making sure to drop the rails in the middle of the makeshift double bed and somehow latch the beds together from the sound of things.

March stared at the little wailing pink bundle, wanting so badly to reach out, but too scared to do anything. Was this really his baby? Something you had made together?

You slid yourself closer to March until you could comfortably lean against his shoulder.

“Here she is,” you whispered in his ear, leaning the bundle toward him. “Your little girl.”

March stared in awe at what could have been both the most beautiful and most hideous thing in all of Alraria. But the more he stared, the more he leaned toward beautiful. A daughter. His beautiful baby girl. She had your perfect complexion, nose, and eyes. And his god awful black hair. Maybe she’d grow out of it?

“I like her hair the most,” you whispered, leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Say hi to your daddy, little one.”

In one fell swoop, you’d positioned the tiny bundle into his arms. March froze. He couldn’t move. No way he could move. Not with this tiny, frail, beautiful, wailing, thing wiggling in his arms.

Sensing his tense discomfort, you grabbed his free hand and balled his fist, leaving just his pinky straight. Then grabbing his pinky, you dragged it to one of the tiny clenched fists wrapped in the blanket. The baby immediately grabbed onto March’s pinky, causing his jaw to drop at the strength of the little grip. He sat there, speechless, as the wailing turned to nothing more than soft whimpers.

“I think she likes you.” You cooed, kissing his cheek again before pulling away slightly and leaning back against the bed.

March watched the little girl as she wiggled and fussed, rooting around this way and that, never once letting go of his pinky.

“She’s strong,” were the first words that he found the strength to muster.

“She’s a natural, just like her daddy.” You wiped away a tear he hadn’t even known had fallen. “Here, let me have her back, she’s probably hungry.”

March looked at you, eyes wide, almost pleading.

“I’ll give her back in a little bit, promise. I just have to feed her.” You pulled down the top of your gown, exposing your breasts.

“Ok.” He moved slowly, letting you take her from his arms, his pinky ripped from her grasp.

He leaned into you after you settled, watching her latch and begin to suckle.

“You’re shaking, you know?” There was no teasing in your tone. Just fact.

“Sh-shut up.” A blush roared across his face.

“It’s ok to be scared, March.”

“I am.” He said after a moment. “Terrified.”

“Well, that makes two of us.”

March turned to face you. You smiled that sweet smile of yours that first caught his eye. All comfort, nothing more. Pushing forward, he brought his lips to yours in as deep of a kiss he could get at the moment. You hummed against his lips again, sending a chill down his spine.

As you pulled away, he gave up his pinky back to his little one, the strong grip taking hold in an instant. He stared down at her, utterly transfixed at the little beauty.

“Hey March?”

“Hmm?”

“Maybe next time we try this, don’t pass out?”

“Ne-next time?!”

#fom march #march fields of mistria #fields of mistria x reader #fom march x reader #fields of mistria

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