#pleas let me make any progress at all | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shhhsecretsideblog · 24 days ago

Note

[Labor Denial, inconvenient birth] Imagine for a moment you're a professor at prestigious college. It's just the beginning of the final exam period of the year and your huge swell of twin belly has proven difficult to maneuver in your 38th week of pregnancy. Braxton hicks are a constant plague on you during the first and second day of finals and by the end of the third you're certain your belly has lowered a bit. At the end of the fourth day as you get ready for bed, a new and strengthened pain takes hold of your overstretched bump. It lasts longer than any braxton you had before, your belly even feels harder beneath your palms as it progresses.

You are still two weeks out from being full term and your doctor assured you that your babies had no interest in making an early appearance. Besides, there was no way you could miss the last day of exams, your employers would hardly approve.

In your mind, you decide these are just mildly more intense braxtons. Nothing more. You keep telling yourself this as the walk into the first test of the final day with a distinct, new pressure building in your low abdomen. You keep telling yourself it's nothing as you absentmindedly rock your hips during the first exam. You don't bother timing these pains; no need to time braxton hicks contractions. You ignore the growing pressure as students submit their exams. You ignore the slight wetness between your thighs when they shuffle out. You ignore the pain flaring in your hips as you shuffle to the next exam room.

All you need is to get through the next six hours of exams, go home, and get some rest. These pains were just the product of stressful times of exam season...

Keep Calm & Carry On

AN: thanks for a great prompt anon! Fpreg, labour denial, clothing birth. 2538 words.

Letting out a short grunt, I cup the underside of my low and heavy belly and arduously push myself up out of the chair. Being so heavily pregnant at the end of the school year, two babies wrestling in my belly, was no joke. Each week during my third trimester brought forth a new ache or pain and as I approached my due date I was regretting not taking early maternity leave. But the university was having staffing issues, there were barely enough faculty members to cover all the end of year exams as it was without me taking early leave. Plus I couldn’t exactly bow out now at this late notice. I couldn’t do that to all the students, they’d worked so hard.

So I grit my teeth and persevered through the long week of exams, through all the aches and pains and practice contractions. Only a few hours left on the final day and soon I would be at home resting for the double arrival. As I reached the exit of the now-empty exam room I had to pause and grab the door frame when another braxton hicks rippled across my taut skin. A groan slipped from my mouth and my knees slightly dipped as the wave built and built before eventually peaking with a lightning bolt of pain to my crotch. “Ooohhhhh… you need to s-stop t-this…” I muttered to the babies in my belly. “I know you’re practising for the main event but jeeze… mnnhhh… please just give me a break for a few hours.”

Unusually, the babies seemed to respond to my plea and after a particularly strong movement, with one baby’s head nestling deep within my pelvis, they settled quietly in my belly. “Phew, thank you. We’ll be done soon, I promise.” I dropped off the papers from my previous exam in the designated tray in the teachers lounge and picked up the stack of booklets for my next exam. After taking a quick breather, drinking some water and dampening the sweat from the back of my neck, I began the trek to my next exam in the hall on the other side of campus.

My body seemed to be practising for labour every few minutes at this point, each wave forcing me to stop and brace against a solid surface and breathe my way through them. I was grateful the students were all in their examination halls so the campus was empty, no one to see me hunched over my bump leaning against a wall.

“Hooohooo… oof! Come on babies, this is getting anno— annoying now—!” The weight between my legs was ever increasing, my waddle so distinctively wide it was almost comical, if not for the pressure and pain that came with it. I couldn’t stop the growl rumbling in my throat as my entire belly turned to stone and squeezed hard. The stack of booklets trembled in my hands and I was panting heavily. I wanted to go home, fighting these pains all day was draining all my energy, but I just couldn’t abandon the students. When the pain passed I fixed my expression and walked as determinedly as I could towards my next shift, my free hand rubbing the constant ache in my lower belly.

When I got to the exam I grit my teeth through the roll call and amazingly managed to walk up and down the rows of students to hand out the test papers, but my ability to stay standing was wavering fast and I plumped down on the chair behind the moderator's desk with a humph. My hands naturally gravitated towards my belly, my fingers splayed each side across the tensing swell, and I took measured deep breaths.

“Are you alright, Miss?” One of the students asked.

“Hmm? Oh, yes I’m fine.” I tried to reassure the student and keep my eyes from closing as the wave continued to build. “Y-you may turn over your papers and begin.”

The contraction built to astronomical heights and my face scrunched, silently bearing the pain of the worst braxton hicks yet. There was just so much pressure, my pelvis was screaming at me. Unconsciously my legs were wide beneath the table, my belly sitting heavily between my thighs, my hips tilting outwards in my slumped position. Thankfully the wooden desk had a modesty panel so the students could not see beneath the table or view my ridiculously widened legs.

One of the baby’s felt so damn low, as if one good sneeze would shoot them out, but I was sure the heaviness was simply a common feeling for being this advanced with twins. It couldn’t be as low as it felt, I’d have to be in labour for that, which I was not.

As time ticked on I barely noticed my body’s subtle movements, trying to keep my concentration focused on the students and their exam, ignoring all the aches and pains that my body was subjecting me to. I wasn’t even aware of when I started rocking forward and back in my chair, or when I lifted my hips off the seat…? Unconsciously I’d pushed my weight forward onto the desk, leaning on my forearms and elbows, subtly lifting my backside and easing the fiery ache building in my pelvis. God, this chair was torturous, I couldn’t find any position that didn’t make me want to scream.

Eventually I gave up on sitting, resorting instead to pacing the room keeping one firm hand pressed into my lower back while the other lifted my heavy belly. The students paid no attention, focusing on the exam papers, all too used to the moderators patrolling around the room and monitoring for any cheating.

The walking was helping the aggressive pains in my hips but it felt like the movement was bringing the baby down even lower. My breaths came thick and fast, my constant movements tiring my body but I couldn’t bear to sit back down in that chair. Another wild pain lashed across my middle and I was forced to stop my pacing, thankfully while I was at the back of the hall behind all the students facing the other way. My belly tightened, urgent and sharp, and I nearly doubled over but instead threw both palms out in front and braced against the wall. My hips were making wild circular motions that I couldn’t control and somewhere in the depths of my mind was a calling to squat down.

Fighting against my body’s instincts I clamped my mouth shut and panted through my wide nostrils. Fuck, it felt like one of the baby’s was coming out… but that couldn’t be right… I wasn’t in labour. But— but then why did I feel a need to push?! I glanced up at the clock, no phones were allowed in the exam hall, and saw I still had two more hours to go.

Two hours, I could do that. Even if I was in labour, a twin birth would take a long time. Everything was fine. I paced along the back wall of the exam hall, my fingers brushing the plasterboard keeping constant contact with a nearby surface to keep myself grounded and stable. Up and down I waddled, restless in my taut and tired skin. The waves crashing through my uterus every few minutes were creeping towards agony and I was finding it harder to stay silent. Just a few hours. That’s all I had to do. But the weight and pressure was sinking lower by the minute and I was having to bite down on my fist to refrain from groaning.

With just over an hour to go I noticed a hand go up at the front of the sea of students. Reluctantly I left my haven at the back of the room and waddled painfully down the row towards the person in question.

“Have you got any spare pens? Mine has run out.” They asked, their eyebrows pinching at seeing my exhausted and sweaty state. “Mmngg— sure.” I managed to grit and went back to my desk for the extra stationary. After providing the student with extra pens I barely made it back to the desk before the next contraction struck, a deep low groan escaping from my mouth as I curled forward and braced the wooden frame, my hips swaying instinctively against the pain.

“Oh my gosh Miss, are you okay?” One student asked in a panic. My only response was another deep groan, louder this time, as I battled the urgent squeezing that was shoving a baby’s head through my cervix.

“Shit! She’s having her baby!” One student cried out.

I shook my head frantically, trying to keep some semblance of control within the exam, despite the incessant tensing and building pressure. “It— it’s fine. Everyone back to your tests.” I tried to assure the students, even though I couldn’t move from my position gripping the desk. “I… it’s possible I’m in labour but… just carry on with your final exam okay. Labour takes hours, it’s— ooooh— it’s nothing to worry about.” The grin plastered on my face was entirely false, the pressure building between my thighs was telling me I might not have as long as I’d hoped.

Instead, when the contraction waned, I stood up and confidently sat back down at the desk and shuffled papers mindlessly and eventually the students went back to their exams. These babies were coming, I could feel it, the giant boulder in my pelvis was almost certainly one of the heads burrowing its way out of me. I straightened up, blocking any exit with the seat of the chair. Just an hour to go, I was going to make it.

I lasted 10 minutes before my determination faltered, the urge to push returning with a vengeance. There was no stopping it, my only hope was the uncomfortable but strategic position on the chair. As soon as the contraction began tightening my womb my body was bearing down uncontrollably. My head dipped, my chin to my chest, my fingers white knuckling the desk as I pushed. Fuck. The head was moving down, I could feel it as it inched lower towards the exit. I barely had time to catch my breath before my body pushed again, hard, fully leaning into the contraction and bringing this baby out whether I wanted to or not.

Through the incessant contractions and the desperate urgency of these babies to be born, I held fast to my position on the chair, blocking any exit with the seat. I was granted only a short reprieve before the next contraction struck and I was back to my silent pushing. I couldn’t make a noise, couldn’t distract the students from their graduating exam, but I also couldn’t do anything else to delay or stop the birth. I was trapped in this never ending cycle of pain. The head was right at my opening, bulging my sensitive lips into my underwear. I wanted to scream, to cry, to open my legs, but I couldn’t. One glance at the clock told me there was only 20 minutes left of the exam. I could make it.

My babies however, were not too keen on following my schedule, and even with my upright position I could feel myself opening around the head. This baby wanted out and it wanted out now. When the burning started I couldn’t help but widen my legs, throwing each thigh over the edges of my seat. My body kept on pushing, through every grievous wave of pain that squeezed my middle, and I couldn’t stop myself from pushing in earnest. The grunt that echoed my throat caught the attention of a few students at the front and I tried to offer a reassuring smile, desperately hiding the fact the head of one of my babies was crowning into my underwear.

When I let go of the push the baby retreated and sighed in relief. But this was short lived as I was back to pushing again barely a minute later. Fuck! I had no phone, a room full of students, and two babies that were desperate to get out of my body. In the short break between pushes the high-pitched ding of a bell sounded signalling the end of the exam. Everyone in the room looked up at me. My chest was heaving with laboured breaths, I gulped and managed to say “Pens down everyone. P-please leave your papers on your d-desks and exit the hall…”

The scratching of chairs on hardwood floors echoed the room as the students stood up and left the exam hall via the door at the back of the room. I was supposed to have collected each paper before dismissing them but there was no way in hell I could stand up. The next contraction was upon me before all the students left and I panted my way through the squeezing urgency of my rock-hard belly.

The crown of the baby’s head was getting bigger and bigger and the second the final student left, the door closing behind them, I let out a deep primal groan that I had been stifling for the past few hours. The head came to a full crown in my underwear and I sobbed and squirmed as everything burned white hot. Out. I needed this baby out of me!!!! With a forceful grunt I disappeared into a deep earnest push and birthed the head of my first child into my knickers.

“Mnnnnghhh… ohh god…. It’s out— the head…. Oh fuck…” With a trembling hand I felt the bulge of my trousers and the head that now sat at the apex of my thighs. “Why couldn’t you wait… just a bit longer guys?!” Before I could form any sort of plan or thought, another tightening rippled across my belly and I knew there was no stopping what was about to happen. Gripping the edge of my seat I bore down with everything that I had, the shoulders stretching me as wide as the head, and I wailed as I threw my head back.

“Oh my gosh Miss Jones…?” A voice came from the other side of the hall. I opened my eyes to see the headmistress in the doorway. “Grrrhhhh… babies are coming—!!!” I grunted and roared, pushing the shoulders out which was immediately followed by the torso of the first baby slipping out and down my trouser leg.

My colleague and boss rushed across the hall to me, wide eyed and panicking. “You poor dear, why didn’t you tell us you were in labour?” She asked, helping me pull the waistband of my trousers down so I could get to my newborn babe.

I couldn’t speak, in too much shock and trembling, an instinctual need to hold my baby was the only thing I was capable of. The infant immediately gurgled and cried as I lifted them up and placed them on my chest, wiping their face and checking every inch of my new baby.

“You did it, goodness, you had your baby.” The head teacher muttered in awe.

“Yeah… but mnnggh… I’m having twins, remember.” I grumbled, as I felt my womb contract again…

#birth prompts #birth kink #birth denial #birth fic #clothing birth #inconvenient birth #public birth #birth fiction #labor kink #pregnancy kink #answered asks #my writing

260 notes · View notes

roseychains · 7 months ago

Text

Jjk men/boys as red flags ~

A/n: felt like angst

C/w: angst, all sfw.

Gojo: narcissistic

When you and Gojo were only friends it was fine, it was always just a joke. Even when it would irritate you, you were only friends, so it didn’t mean much. But after you started dating, you realized it wasn’t just a joke. Gojo held himself above everyone, yourself included. That’s not to say he wouldn’t die for you, but instead he just thinks he’s better than everyone else. Including you. He treats you well, but it’s always back handed complements. “You couldn’t do it without me,” or “you need me,” and this time, he meant it.

Geto: avoidant

Geto has never been open with how he’s feeling. When he gets upset with you, rather than explain to you why he’s upset he would avoid you like the plague. Make up any excuse in the book to get away from you, he was suddenly always “busy.” Even once he worked him self back down to normal, it still wouldn’t be resolved in his brain. Ultimately leading to him accumulating sad thoughts that he refuses to share with you or anyone else.

Nanami: priority’s

As much as he loved you, his work always gets in the way between you too. It started with a few days spent overtime, but days turned into weeks, weeks to months, and you realized you were hardly spending time with him anymore. He would work himself day and night, even when you pleaded with him to come home to you. Your pleas fell on deaf ears, he would always tell you the same thing. That he can’t support you without this job, and it was what must be done. Even at the expense of his time with you.

Toji: irresponsible

After his wife passing, he seems to care less and less about anything else in the world. After you began dating, you realized he would do small things, innocent mistakes. Not cleaning up for himself, not switching the laundry, but when you would address the issues, he would suddenly get defensive. First, he’d tell you it wasn’t true. Then, it was an accident, and finally, if you care so much why don’t you do it. Never just “sorry, I’ll handle it.”

Sukuna: aggressive

The first time your forgave him. But when it became a repetitive issue, it started getting under your skin. The smallest things would send him into a rage, a rage that he would take out on you, raising his voice, burdening you with his anger. After he calmed down and apologized, and promised to not do that again or at the very least work on it, progress never came. Trapped in a cycle of yell, apologize, promise, repeat.

Choso: affection

Choso is inexperienced and scared. He’s scared of touch, of intimacy, he wants to love you from afar. He can talk to you for hours, and listen to you talk, but he won’t hold your hand, especially in public. It’s almost like he’s ashamed, embarrassed to be with you. But no matter how much you bring it up, he’d reassure you and say he’s just shy. But never a way to satisfy your need for physical love.

Yuji: ignorant

He doesn’t realize what he’s doing wrong, so when your mad at him he doesn’t know why. He thought he was doing everything right, and even when you tell him, he can’t wrap his head around why that would upset you, he doesn’t get it. He never has, and he never will. He ends up love bombing you and you forgive him, but do you really? No, you let it happen because what else are you supposed to do.

Megumi: self-destructive

Megumi cares about anyone else more than himself, and he refuses to take care of himself properly and repeatedly puts himself into dangerous situations. It doesn’t matter how much you cry, how you sob and hold him in your arms telling him you didn’t think he was ever coming back, begging him to stay, if not for his safety than for you. But he won’t. He never listens, no amount of tears and begging will ever change his ways.

Inumaki: effort

A relationship should be 50/50, but when someone can’t give that, the other person would make up for it. But when 40/60 becomes the new normal, than 30/70, and so on, a lack of effort on his part is a regular occurrence, it starts feeling like why do you even try. Your putting in more than you can just for him to not make it up in return. It’s almost like he doesn’t care anymore

Yuta: obsessive

It was cute first, the way he would get jealous whenever you spent time with someone else. It was a joke right? You started questioning the lightheartedness of his actions when it became frequent and almost forceful. He would resent anyone who you spent time with, he felt like you were being stolen away. So much so the point it became toxic. He would guilt trip you to stay home more frequently. And when you finally decided you were going to leave anyway, the keys to your car had mysteriously disappeared. On no, guess you have to spend the day with him, again, forever.

718 notes · View notes

audliminal · 1 month ago

Text

It's Just a Game, Right? Pt 6

Masterpost

"I'm telling you, Fenton!" Wes announces. "I'm onto you." A few of the kids walking past snicker at them, as Danny does his best to look confused. The startled part is easy; Wes is turning out to be a surprisingly good actor. He's been gradually leaning even harder to the image of a conspiracy nut, and the result is impressive. Danny, on the other hand, is simply trying to keep up with the insanity.

"I have literally no clue what you're talking about, dude." Danny says, attempting to push past Wes, so he can enter their classroom. Wes doesn't seem inclined to let this confrontation end, though.

"You may have everybody else fooled, but I know the truth. You made a pact with the so-called ghosts and their efforts to take over our world. You're just manipulating your parents' tech in order to convince everyone that they actually are ghosts, and not the invading fae army they really are!"

"Dude, what?" Danny responds, not quite able to hold back the laugh.

"Honestly, Wes, don't you have any common sense?" Star asks, as she walks up. "Rumor has it that Fenton's failing like half his classes, and you think a bunch of fae lords, or whatever would trust him to help their scheme? Surely they'd choose someone more competent." She flips her hair, and then walks past the both of them, as a couple of the kids nearest to them start snickering.

Outwardly, Danny winces and hunches in on himself a little more, as he takes the opening Star just created and ducks into the classroom after her.

In hallway outside, Danny catches Wes muttering to himself before following them in. No one says anything for a minute, but the moment the bell rings and Mr Lancer shuts the door, Star turns to Wes.

"I think you should be a writer or something after we get out of here." Star tells him. "That theory was honestly inspired."

"It gets even better. I have so much evidence to force on you guys, it'll be great." Wes answers, then turns to Danny. "You good? I know we don't mean any of it, but it's still gotta suck to have us acting like assholes all the time."

"I mean," Danny hums. "I'm not gonna say it's fun? But like honestly compared to everything else, dissing my work kinda seems..."

"Banal?" Sam offers.

"Yeah, sure, that." Danny nods. "Like, compared to people wanting me dead, who cares, I guess."

"Yikes," Kwan mutters. "Your life is a fucking mess, dude."

"Well, i do have some good news about that." Tucker announces, turning his computer to face everyone else. "Looks like the fanbase is making some progress towards finding the real stuff.

Danny stares at the reddit thread Tucker is on. He's honestly been only loosely paying attention to the actual stuff Tucker and Wes have been posting. He's happy to offer his knowledge of space stuff, or engineering, but the intricacies of secret code aren't really something he ever pursued. Well, except for the secret language he and Tucker had made as kids. Wes, on the other hand, peers at the screen and lets out a soft whoop.

"Hell yeah! They found the second layer!"

"Yeah. Which means they've found our first plea for help."

"Oh, wow," Sam says sardonically. "A plea for help that's so great. Why are they gonna think it's anything other than another part of the damn story."

"Chill out, Sam," Tucker responds. "The point is to encourage them to look harder. And once they find the next level, they'll start finding our info on the infinite realms."

"Whatever," Sam says, frowning. "I just... Don't like how much waiting this involves."

"Yeah it would be a lot easier if we could just, like, beat them up and call it good," Dash agrees. "But, like, jail would probably suck."

"At least they're making progress," Danny points out. "I don't really get how you guys are making these layers, but. It's more progress than anything else we've tried."

"Yeah, but like, what does this mean for us?"

"Why not interact directly with that post?"

"Maybe. We'd have to be extra careful about what and how we say it, so they don't write us off as a copycat or anything, but it could serve to reinforce, uh-" Wes leans in, to read the username. "BenBlues379's theory."

"Okay then, let's draft a reply." Danny zones out as they start to discuss the specifics. He hadn't actually had to go deal with any ghosts last night, but his parents had been working on some new invention, and the noise of their trials had made sure he didn't get much sleep despite the supposed reprieve. Luckily, nobody in this class is going to complain if he takes the opportunity to catch up on the missed shut-eye now, so with one last deep breath, Danny folds himself down onto his and relaxes into sleep, as the sounds of his classmates debating echoes around him.

#dp x dc #the one where the amity parkers make an arg #interestingly this is really not very danny-centric as a fic #but it's kind of fun playing with the whole cast of characters from casper high #and this iteration of wes is fun. hes just sitting there like how do i accuse fenton in a way that absolutely no one will believe #i also 100% spent way too much time picking Bernard's username #which is silly considering its kind of shit #but that is sort of the point #i wanted it to be something that would feel like he had picked it as a kid and just sort of continued to use it

151 notes · View notes

n0tamused · 5 months ago

Note

*holds u at gunpoint* dr ratio helping u study for an exam/ quiz. Am i going through an exam rn? Yes. Will it stop me from reading ratio fan fics? No

A/N: *points a second gun at you* better watch where you're going cowboy. And felt this so bad, procrastination is killing me too, but Dr. Ratio fics never fail to make me feel something again, delulu is the solulu but only for a moment. Anyway, anon, hope you enjoy this blurpp, I wish you luck on your exams! <3 Wrote this while procrastinating myself, I gotta lock in tomorrow hhhhhhh

Contents: Dr. Ratio x GN!Reader, can be read as modern au, fluff, possible grammar mistakes (I'm about to pass out)

“Here” A porcelain cup slid your way over the polished wood desk. It was a pretty off-white, rimmed with a golden line and another purple one, thinner than the gold. Tea steamed from within, wafting off the soothing floral smell. You sighed, quickly averting your glance back at the books open before you. There were two books, thick and intimidating, and your open notebook you were reading your scribbly notes from.

Circling around you Veritas’ looming frame cast a shadow over your papers for a moment before he seated himself in the chair next to you, his own cup in hand. “You're still on the same problem as when you started?” He clicks his tongue, nursing a sip of his tea before setting it aside when he appears satisfied. You didn't have it in you to respond, wishing to avoid any form of an outlash, especially taken in the fact you had already told him how you struggled with procrastination for quite a handful of days. He has given his advice, but they failed to make the spark with you last long enough to properly sit and study, and that all caused guilt to claw at your belly from within.

Veritas, on the other hand, didn't seem half as phased as you thought he'd be, at first he didn't even notice how your eyes looked at him in a silent plea for mercy. His amber eyes looked over your notes, at all the scribbles and marked words, letting out a low “hmmm”.

“And tell me, what is it that has you so stumped about this? It's quite an easy equation” he wondered, a little taken aback it was taking you so long on this, yet he had to remind himself that this material was new to you, unlike him who has seen this material countless times over. You weren't dumb, however, so what is it..?

“I.. don't know... The results I've gotten previously make no sense and they do not match the one the professor got in class. His is the right result, and I don't get how every time I did the problem, I got a different result” you began, voice initially quiet as if begging his ears to become deaf to your words, but your plea went unanswered. His keen eyes regarded you with a strange curiosity, his chin leaning on his hand. Only now did he realize how tense you looked. He blinks at you owlishly, studying your features for a brief moment before turning his gaze back towards the papers. “That is a problem.. Where is the formula your professor used? Do you have his equation as a whole written down here?”

You looked at him and then at the papers, eyes flickering all across the written words and printed text. “I.. I do.. Yes, why?”

A scoff came first, “Why, so I can take a look at it so I can help you. You did ask me to help you, did you not?”, then his large hand picked up the pen you had abandoned on top of your notes, motioning for you to show him the notes. “We can go step by step and then compare the progress to see where your problem lies”

Nodding, you were quick to breeze through the old notes, paper pages fluttering as you went over each one until finally reaching a page so full of equations it made your head hurt. With your finger you point to the one you were currently trying to figure out. “This one.. This is just a copy of what the professor did on the white board.. and this is the formula he used '' you showed him, letting him slide the notebook to his side of the desk when his fingers pinched the corner.

Silence engulfed the room, and for a long while you could only watch as Veritas’ expression changed from focused, to confused and then to frustrated.

“Are you sure this is what the professor wrote down? This is entirely incorrect. The formula alone is wrong, and the process of his calculations is just abhorrent.. What is this-” he slightly nudged the notebook away from him, offended by its contents, to say the least.

Like a little wet rat, you held your hands together, feeling guilty for all reasons you shouldn’t, a pout playing about your lips as you nodded. “Yes. That is what the professor wrote! One of my colleagues even took a picture at the end of the class since she was too lazy to write it all down herself, so I know for a fact I didn’t copy the notes wrong” you rushed to explain as your eyes glared at the offending problem.

“That is ridiculous” Veritas grumbled as he opened the big math book a few pages back from where you had opened it, searching for the formulas, and pointing towards one he softened his tone. “This formula should have been used in this problem. It is similar, yes, but the functions can’t be any more different from what your.. professor used” looking down at your notes and at the problem afterwards, he sneered, seeing that the formula was used once again in the next equation. “I don’t know what your professor was thinking, but repeating the same mistake twice is beyond ignorant..”

“What..? So..? So he is in the wrong?”

“Yes. Now.. show me the way you did it. And do it with this formula I just showed you” Veritas instructed, his nose scrunched up in disgust, although none of it was directed at you but rather at this person he didn’t even know. Perhaps he should go and meet him, just to see the face of ignorance and negligence in human form.

Following his advice, you did as he asked, working on the problem with Veritas sitting at your side, his eyes occasionally flickering to the remaining problems that would follow this one.

“There… Is this right..?” You pulled back to allow him a better view of your writing, and it didn’t take the brilliant Veritas Ratio too long to check that you were - in fact - right. His face eased slightly from its previous tension, sighing he gave a nod of satisfaction and acknowledgement.

“That’s right. Well done” Veritas says, voice significantly softer as he addresses you, before turning sharper once more. “I knew something was wrong when you got stuck on this for so long. You managed to solve all those problems I gave you yesterday, which are arguably much harder than this and much more complex with extra steps.. Hmph, can’t believe someone didn’t point out this error in your professors work”

Veritas leaned back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest in a comfortable fashion in which he usually sat around you, his whole composure softening, but through and through, it was the Veritas Ratio you always knew. Hope lit up in your eyes at the unraveling of this problem that nearly had you sick to the stomach for this whole day.

“So..I know this?..Does this mean I won’t fail..?

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, of course you won’t! You’ve got me to teach you, and let me be damned if you fail”

A victorious cackle left you as he said so, feeling free of the clutches of madness this exam has put you into, and as to celebrate you all but flung yourself onto Veritas, hugging him.

The sudden embrace surprised him and made him stutter, but his arms were quick to find their place around your body, scoffing, even as he tucked his face into your shoulder.

#-dragon.treasure #Dr. Ratio #Dr ratio x reader #dr ratio fluff #dr ratio x you #dr ratio imagine #dr ratio honkai star rail #veritas ratio #veritas ratio x you #veritas ratio x rader #veritas ratio fluff #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail fluff #fluff #honkai star rail imagine #gn reader

226 notes · View notes

stardust-kenobi · 7 months ago

Text

Nerves

Crosshair x F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, soft and slightly ooc Crosshair (not much though, I think he really is a softy)

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: You'd been helping Crosshair work on his aim after his traumatic experience being held captive by the Empire. After not much progress, you get into a heated discussion when he tries to give up, which turns even more heated after he admits his feelings for you.

Read on AO3

“Try it again” You paced behind his stoic stance, doing your best to encourage him without showing any sign of your very present empathy. The slow-setting Pabu sun would still provide you both with another hour of visibility. The amber glow warmed your skin, which was a welcomed change of environment from being cramped on the ship for days on end.

“Why?” Crosshair growled, fueled by the burning rage built up by his defeat. The tremble in his fingertips broke your heart, but you could see that he’d made progress from the exercises. It was slow, sure, but there were definitely improvements. T

“Because I said so. You won’t make any progress if you don’t keep trying” You emphasized, doing your best not to express your impatience with his pessimism.

“It’s useless, Y/N” He lowered his blaster from his shaking hand and let it fall from his grasp before lowering himself to sit on the rock beneath him. You sighed, but this time your breath didn’t hold any frustration, only disappointment in his self-defeat. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what he’d been through, and you still didn’t know the extent of the torture he’d endured. Months had passed since he and Omega escaped. Omega had worked with him a few times, mostly with meditation, but you were better skilled with blasters and aim.

Crosshair held his head low, focusing his vision on the sand beneath his sore feet. You joined him without another word, sitting next to him on the rocks that scattered the shore. There were no words to comfort him in this moment, so you opted out of a conversation this time. The breeze from the ocean enveloped your frame, almost as if pushing you closer to Crosshair.

The seconds passed. Then minutes. All the while you soaked in each other’s company, for good or for bad. He was growing annoyed with you lately, despite being one of his closest friends, all because you were insistent upon helping to heal his trauma from his captivity with the Empire.

As the moments passed, Crosshair never tried to leave his spot next to you. He didn’t push you away this time. This, you decided, was an achievement.

The half-hidden sun drifted slowly below the horizon, replaced then by a casting a blue-toned light from the rising moon. It was peaceful, sitting together, communicating without saying a word.

“I’ll probably head back soon. We’ll try again tomorrow” You spoke gently when breaking the silence.

“I’m done” Crosshair spoke softly, his tone was firm and assured.

“Cross-” You sighed.

“I said I’m done” He reiterated, interrupting your plea.

“You’re just going to give up?” You scoffed.

“Seems so” He shrugged.

You crossed your arms to your chest and stood in front of him now, staring at him in disappointment.

“You can stand there all night if you’d like. I’m not changing my mind” He muttered, finally looking up to meet your gaze.

You pondered your next breath, but ultimately fell short on your words. With a subtle nod in his direction, you began walking away from your peaceful corner on the beach.

“I’m sorry for what they did to you, Crosshair. But you can’t punish yourself forever” You spoke calmly as the distance between you grew.

“What did you say?” He sneered, turning his body toward you, still sitting on the rock.

You froze in your tracks. You’d struck a nerve. Good.

“You heard me”

He slowly stood up and turned to you, “You think it’s my fault that I’m not improving?”

“You are improving, Crosshair. But, you’re giving up too easily”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about”

“I care about you, Crosshair. Believe it or not, I do. I know you’re not used to that but…you’re going to have to get used to it because I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not giving up on you”

His eyes grew subtly sorrowful as he stared into you, absorbing your words slowly. His head drifted from your gaze over to the open water that was now glistening in the moonlight.

“It's..my nerves” He said shamefully.

“Okay…” You tried to understand what he meant. Maybe you’d been pushing him too hard “Would it help if we took a break for a few d-”

“You. You make me…nervous” He admitted with a loud sigh trailing the end of his words like he had to force himself to say it.

As you pondered what he’d just said, your heart fluttered with unexpected excitement.

“What? How do I make you nervous?” You breathed out with what was almost a chuckle.

“Forget it” he scoffed, picking up his blaster and turning back toward the island, passing you in the process. You grab his arm to stop him. He doesn’t resist even though your gentle touch should not have stopped him in his tracks, but it did tonight.

“No. Tell me what you mean.” You demanded.

Crosshair contemplated it for a second before yanking his arm from your grasp, “You really want to know? Fine”.

He looked toward the island as if to check and make sure you were alone.

“I can’t…I can’t think around you. I can’t focus” He lowered his head,”I’ve tried to ignore how I feel around you, but it’s been just as useless as you training me”

For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. Crosshair was not a man of many words, nor was he one to express his feelings.

“Crosshair-” You tried to answer but he was uninterested in your counter argument. What he didn’t know was that there was no counter argument to be had.

“Don’t. Just don’t” He groaned.

“I love you” You hurriedly responded spitting it out like it was stuck on your tongue. You laid it all out plainly and simply. You loved him. You had for months.

Crosshair’s expression held a look of pure disbelief that quickly transformed to warmth and content.

Your longing gaze pierced through his tough exterior. Something ignited within you as a tension pulled you into him, leaving hardly any room between the two of you

“I…” You whispered softly, but lost yourself in his eyes.

Without another breath, Crosshair curled his finger beneath your chin, pulling your lips up to meet his.

Nothing this electrifying had ever grazed your skin before. His lips pressed passionately against yours as if he’d waited years to do this. You leaned into him, resting your hands on his shoulders as your mouths became intertwined so rhythmically.

Every fantasy you’d ever had of a moment like this that had always been shoved to the back of your mind came flooding back. Never did you think he’d feel the same way, but everything about his lips on yours just felt right. His finger beneath your chin trembled, and you were unsure how much it was from the overwhelming nerves of kissing you or the already present shake in his hands. You wrapped your hand around his, intertwining your fingers to calm him. The kiss was deep and raw, devouring each other as the motions intensified. A warmth spread through your body while your heart nearly lept from your chest.

Slowly and hesitantly, you pulled away from the kiss to look up into his uncertain gaze.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that” He whispered, and a smile crept upon his face. Something rare and welcome that you never saw too often with him.

“Me too” You smiled back, holding his hands in yours.

You wasted no more time before pulling him for another kiss. It was heavy and breathless. Your hands wandered from his to the firm muscles on his chest. Crosshair let his hands wander, too, until they hovered gently above your breasts.

“Touch me” You breathed in between the motions of your lips.

Your permission was all he needed. His hands explored your body like he was lost in the dark. Like he was starving for you. The boulders on this corner area of the beach kept you hidden in your own oasis, with very little concern of being discovered. Your fingertips found the hem of his black shirt, and tugged at it gently.

“Here?” He pondered.

“Why not?” You smirked. He nodded and helped you remove his shirt, revealing his battle scars and perfectly carved muscle. You admired it, trailing your hands down his abdomen.

Conveniently, you had a blanket in your satchel that you brought with you. Crosshair rushed over to lay it out. He then took your hand in his and guided you to it.

“Lay down,” He instructed. As you did so, he hovered above you, his lips exploring your exposed neck and chest just above the neckline of your dress. You whimpered softly, unable to contain yourself even with the slightest of his touch.

His nervous touch was endearing as he traced up your thigh, searching for your most sensitive area. You shuffled your hips a bit, encouraging him to keep going

“Are you sure?” He asked, his brows furrowed. It was a look of longing, concern, and desperation all in one. Crosshair needed you, but wouldn’t dare touch you like this without assurance.

“Yes,” You breathed.

He pulled your panties down, and you lifted your hips to help him remove them completely.

He returned his fingers to your aching heat and discovered your arousal for him, which earned a small whimper from his lips. Crosshair knew exactly what he wanted to do to you. He’d surely thought about it enough in his head while he sat alone in his quarters, pumping himself to the fantasy of having you in his grasp like this. But, he was letting his nerves get the better of him now, and felt weary about how he’d perform for you.

“Cross, please” You begged with a tone of reassurance. His hand rested on your thigh, just beneath where you craved his touch.

You felt his hand tremble subtly against your skin.

“Hey,” You started, pulling his attention to you, “it's just me and you”

He nodded and kissed you hard, letting himself dive into you again, and found his fingers sliding through the wetness between your legs. He rubbed your clit in delicate circles and you bucked your hips up into his touch. He found a perfect rhythm and responded to your body’s signals as he felt them.

“Maker…You’re so wet for me” He muttered in total awe of the effect he’d had on you. Looking down to your exposed cunt as the bottom of your dress now rested against your abdomen. Suddenly his middle finger found its way to your entrance and slid inside, pumping slowly and pushing you to the edge while his thumb kept working at your clit.

Crosshair was propped on his side next to you, and instinctively ground his hips against your body, overcome with his desire to feel friction. He added another finger inside and fucked you as you rolled your hips into his hand. Each thrust of his curled digits grazed your most sensitive spot against your walls. A tingling sensation bundled and tightened in your lower belly, pushing you closer to your climax.

“Don’t stop” You begged, and he listened.

“Come for me, darling” He instructed, which sent chills down your body. Hearing him say something so arousing was unfamiliar but absolutely intoxicating.

With his lips at your neck and his fingers working eagerly inside of you, your release was so close now. Your senses were deliciously overwhelmed.

“Crosshair” You cried his name before rolling your eyes into the back of your head, seeing stars, overwhelmed with the pleasure that flowed through your body as your orgasm overcame you. Your hips rolled up into his body still hovered above you and your back arched in response to the sensational feeling radiating through you. Your fingers dug into his arm but he never slowed his pace. Crosshair was absolutely infatuated with watching you fall apart for him. You came down from your euphoric high slowly, catching your breath in the process.

“Are you alright?” He whispered. This was a side of him you never expected. You knew he could be caring and kind when he wanted to be, but seeing that translated to handling your body was a pleasant surprise. Your cunt hopelessly clenched around the emptiness as he removed his fingers.

“Never better. Now, please fuck me” You demanded, chuckling softly.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” He wasted not another moment before helping you lean up to remove your dress completely. Your breasts fell from the restraint of the fabric and caught his eye immediately. He took them into his hands massaging them gently before bringing his lips to your mounds and kissing them.

He pulled his pants down just enough to release his length that begged to be touched. You stared in awe of his size. You opened your legs slightly, allowing room for him to adjust himself in between your legs.

As he lined himself up with your entrance, he looked into your eyes and devoured you with a loving gaze. He kissed you softly before slowly sinking his cock into your wetness.

Crosshair choked on his next breath, your warmth encasing him perfectly as you took his length with ease. Once he bottomed out within you, he whimpered softly and buried his face into your neck. He was slow at first, allowing you to adjust to his size, which you probably needed as he was bigger than you expected.

“Fuck, Y/N” He cursed, overwhelmed by it all. To be able to take you like this, having you begging for his cock, you writhing beneath him…it was all wonderfully too much, and he loved it.

“Maker, it feels so good, Cross” You encouraged him. His cock stretched you open with each thrust as he picked up the pace. He fit inside you like you were made for each other, and you felt a closeness and intimacy you’d never experienced before. It was indescribable.

You held his face in your hands as he thrust into you faster and harder, holding his gaze while you both let profanities and cries of pleasure fly from your lips. If there was anyone nearby, they would have heard you, but it was a remote area, and you could feel safe. Each curl of his hips snapping into you sent your mind and body into a frenzy of pleasure.

“You take me so well, sweetheart” He praised, turning his attention to looking down where he disappeared inside of you. Crosshair was no virgin, but he’d never experienced such intimacy and passion for someone like he did for you in this moment. He wanted this for so long, same as you. The months of lingering glances at one another, your heart racing each time your skin grazed his on the ship, the way you’d cared for him since he’d escaped Tantiss. It was all leading up to this moment of pure desire for one another, and you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“I won’t last much longer” He

You nodded to assure him it was okay. It was then that you felt another orgasm quickly creeping up on you. He could feel you tightening and knew you were close.

“Come on my cock, that’s it” He spoke softly, his words sending you over the edge.

It burst open, washing over your entire body, more captivating and intense than the first release. You dug your nails into the rigid muscles of his back, pulling him into you as he kept his pace. You cried out, feeling overtaken by the pleasure that electrified your entire body. His thrust began to falter and his body shook beneath your fingertips.

Crosshair’s moans were low and rough as he reached his climax, spilling his release deep inside you, his brows furrowed and face twisted in pleasure.

You both took time to catch your breath, soaking in the highs you were riding and taking in this feeling of closeness with one another. He was careful to remove himself from you, knowing you were both sensitive.

He lay beside you, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you into him.

“I love you too” He said suddenly, confusing you for a moment, before realizing that he was finally responding to your declaration of love to him earlier.

You smiled up at him and laid your head onto his chest. As you listened to a combination of the gentle waves and the beating of his heart, you felt warm and loved for the first time in a long time.

#Crosshair #crosshair x reader #crosshair smut #fluff #angst #the bad batch #tbb #crosshair x f!reader #crosshair x you #reader insert #tbb fanfiction #bad batch #pabu #my work #stardust-kenobi

237 notes · View notes

yerimsdreams · 5 months ago

Text

All Bark, No Bite

author's note: the way I planned for this to be something cute and then it turned into... this. lol.

zaros kymen atha'lin x earis!reader (they/them pronouns are used).

warnings: swearing. mention of death. tombstone. crying.

''Why won't you just tell me what happened, mother? It's about my own brother!'' The Earis exclaimed in frustration, following their mother like a lost duckling.

Queen Roena shook her head, continuing to make her way out of the library. She'd originally gone to check up on her child's progression with their studies for the upcoming trial of debate, but it had quickly turned into another interrogation on her son's death and the late Atha'lin matriarch's involvement in it.

''Mother! I deserve to know!'' Their plea went in vain once again as the Eminence almost reached the doors.

''Mum, please.''

The Queen halted at the two words. They sounded like a child, one that would ask their parents to check under their bed to see whether there was a creature lurking there or not. She hadn't heard them sound so desperate in years, maybe ever.

The older woman turned around, guilt dripping all over her face. The ruling monarch was not one to wear her heart on her sleeve. However, every emotion she was feeling in that moment was visible for the world to see.

''I can't, my darling,'' she sighed, ''it's in the past. It shall remain there.'' With one last sad smile, she opened the doors and departed from the library, leaving her hopeless child behind.

The Earis simply stood there, feeling the weight of their mother’s words pressing down on them. The library didn't feel like the warm and welcoming place it had always been for them, instead a cold breeze had settled over the vast book-lined hall.

They let the tears fall, not blinking them back like they were used to doing. An overwhelming feeling of helplessness planted itself inside of them. Why couldn't anyone just tell them the truth? Why does everyone have to be so secretive and vague about the subject?

Despite the grand state of the library, it felt as if they would be swallowed up by it if they stayed a second longer. It was as if the books were mocking them. Thousands of figures of history laughing in their face, the poems of the finest writers were pointing at them and falling over from amusement.

Their shoulders slumped, the Earis turned away from the door and wiped the tears from their face. They needed to get out, to breathe fresh air and clear their mind.

They made their way through the dimly lit corridors of the castle, moving swiftly towards the gardens. The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere of the library. They let out a deep breath of relief once they were outside, the scent of all the various flowers providing a pleasant distraction.

The garden was quiet, the only sounds being the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets. All the nobles had gone back to their own respective homes, while the staff of the Royal Family were done with their duties for the day and had retreated to their quarters.

The heir walked along the winding paths until they reached their brother's memorial. They sat down next to the stone plaque that carried their sibling's name.

''What really happened to you? Why won't Mother tell me? Why won't anyone tell me the truth of it?'' The questions that had been haunting them tumbled out in a whisper. Their voice broke on the last few words, and they buried their face in their hands, letting the tears flow freely again.

"Out and about so late, my Earis?'' A familiar voice sounded from the shadows, breaking the comfortable silence that had been present. ''People might start to think you're engaging in promiscuous activities with a secret companion.'' Despite not looking at him, they could hear the smirk playing on his lips.

''Begone, Zaros.'' There wasn't much energy behind their words, just pure exhaustion. They weren't in any mood to deal with his snarky comments.

Zaros, sensing the weariness in their tone, stepped out from the shadows and approached them. His signature grin faded as soon as he saw the tears glistening on their cheeks. He stood there, uncertain on how to proceed.

''What happened?'' He asked quietly, hesitantly taking a few steps closer to them.

The Earis turned towards him, roughly wiping their tears away. ''Just go! I do not want to hear from you at this moment.''

He paused, concern etching his features. "Did someone harm you?" His posture straightened as the question left his mouth, his eyebrows furrowing.

They let out a bitter laugh, shaking their head. "No, no one has harmed me. Just leave me be."

But Zaros didn't move. Instead, he crouched down in front of them, trying to catch their gaze. ''Please, you appear burdened beyond measure. For someone or something to break your mask like this… please, speak to me.''

''Why? So you can use my hardships against me later?'' Their head snapped towards him, eyes blazing with a mix of anger and pain.

He lightly flinched at the accusation, but remained composed. ''I have no intention of doing that. You're crying in the garden, all by yourself, everyone can see that something has transpired.''

They turned away, their gaze focused on their brother's stone, frustration boiling over. "You're only here to enjoy my suffering. Begone, please, at once!''

''I am not here for my own entertainment. We may no longer be as close as we once were, but I am not indifferent to your pain. Now, please, tell me what happened?'' Zaros insisted, his tone earnest.

The Earis momentarily lifted their head to meet Zaros' eyes. They tried to find something that would tell them he had another impertinent comment waiting, but they did not find it. Instead, they found his soft eyes, and genuine distress on his face.

They sniffed, and took a deep breath. ''I, uh, have been asking my mother about what you said about your grandmother, uh, snatching my brother,'' their voice became small at the mention of their sibling, ''she won't tell me anything, she refuses. I just asked her about it again, moments ago in the library, but she brushed me off.''

Zaros frowned at their admission. ''It was not my intention to cause a rift between you and your mother.''

They shook their head. ''I know that, it's not your fault. I just… I feel as if I do not know my family at all. Ever since the contention, strange things have been happening, and I don't know what or who to believe anymore.''

His expression softened at their words. ''I understand. I still believe it is not up to me to tell you what happened regarding your late brother, but… I do feel for you.''

The Earis sarcastically chuckled. ''You feel for me? That's a first.''

Zaros sighed, undeterred by their sarcasm. ''Stop that. Just because of what happened in the past does not mean I do not care for you or wish to see you discontented. I could have walked away the moment I saw you here, but I stayed. Do with that what you will.''

They wanted to believe him, to trust that his concern was genuine, yet years of bitterness stood between them like an impenetrable wall. ''You expect me to believe that you suddenly care about my well-being?''

''Yes, I do,'' he retorted, ''I am not lying when I say that seeing you like this pains me.'' He admitted, his full attention on them.

The Earis stares for a few moments before groaning, their hands covering their face again. ''Why do you always do that?''

''Do what?'' Zaros questioned, confused.

''One sentence you'll completely tear me and my character apart, and in the next you- you say things like that.''

Zaros shifted uncomfortably. ''I don't tear you apart, I simply say the hard-''

''Hard truths, yeah. You've said it plenty.'' They interjected, rolling their eyes.

''So you do know it?'' The teasing gentleman made a small return. ''Anyway- I do not mean to hurt you with my words, I just want to give you a different perspective.''

''You simply wish to remind me of all my flaws, Zaros. Don't play dumb, it does not suit you.''

Zaros's smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. ''I speak harshly because I believe in your strength. I challenge you because I know you can rise to it. You are the heir to the throne. There is the possibility that you will become ruler, so I might just as well put both your feet back on the ground. It is for the good of the realm.''

They were still guarded, so they let out a scoff. ''For the realm,'' she repeated, ''for the realm or for the good of your own family? The, oh, so noble Atha'lin line who care about the smallfolk and their troubles while they drown themselves in the royal wealth, and feast on the food and wine which they pay for with the little money they have.''

His face tightened, their words slowly sinking in. ''Do not speak of my fa-''

''Not speak of your family? All you do is speak on me and my family. I understand your anger, and it is justified. But you are a hypocrite, Zaros. You bark and bark, but as soon as I turn it around on you, you put on your cloak of high morality and point the finger at me for everything that is wrong with Serulla,'' the gates had opened, and there was no closing them now.

''You think all it takes for the common folk to have you in their favor is to lower some fucking taxes? You believe that by sneering at the noble families, the ones that will work in your Council if you become king, you will actually achieve change? Well, you are greatly mistaken. You know nothing about what it takes to rule a Dominion, especially not one like ours. Your mother is using you for her own bidding, to lift her own status- you are only too blind to see it.''

Zaros recoiled as if struck, his expression hard to read. It seemed to have taken him a few extra seconds to fully comprehend their words. Once it had hit him, he quickly stood back up, though he didn't move away from them.

The Earis watched him in their peripheral vision, puzzled on why he stayed standing there, fully expecting him to have made his way into the castle by now.

''You and I have more in common than we allow ourselves to think at times.'' He remarked, gazing into the Serullan night sky.

Their own vision stayed on their brother's engraved name, hoping an answer would appear to help them out of this situation.

Zaros continued at their silence. ''We both want the best for our families, and we'll both go to the absolute end for them- no matter the cost.''

''This is a high cost you are paying, Sarl Zaros.'' They uttered back, looking up at his figure.

''It is, My Earis.''

#zsakuva #zaros atha’lin #zsakuva zaros #zaros x reader #sakuverse

87 notes · View notes

weirdgenetic-fuckup · 9 months ago

Note

Hiii

Can you do the bassists too (safe words)

Absolutely! Here are Jason and Cliff with using safe words, I was going to add Rob but I literally couldn't think of anything, nothing against him as a bassist or person in general I've just never been into him I guess so I apologise for that lol. Other than that I hope you enjoy who I did write for :3

If you'd like to see any other band/musicians you'd like to see with this prompt let me know and I might write for it :3

Link to part 1

Warnings: Smut, angst, use of a safe word, rough sex, car sex, high sex, mentions of weed, if you think you won't be comfortable reading that that's fine protect yourself before reading content, if there's something you think I missed please let me know :3

You came home after a long day at work, your body was sore and all you wanted to do was curl up on the couch with your boyfriend, Cliff.

As soon as you got through the front door you were hit with a very distinct smell. Having gone through this countless times before you made your way into the living room and found Cliff on the couch watching cartoons and giggling like a little kid. His eyes were red and he had a joint in his hand.

Cliff didn’t even seem to notice you had gotten home until you were standing directly in front of him. “Oh, hey.” He said, voice cheery as he smiled up at you. You crossed your arms in front of your chest. “You want to watch with me?” You didn’t want to watch with him when he was like this, not today, but you did want to just sit with him. You let out a heavy sigh and curled up next to him on the couch, trying to ignore the stench of weed.

As the cartoons progressed you relaxed a bit. You got used to the smell and were able to tune it out in a way. Cliff was shifting uncomfortably beside you and it was getting harder to ignore. “Is something wrong?” You asked, looking up at him. Cliff shook his head. You weren’t convinced so you kept an eye on him but continued watching the movie.

“Can I see your hand?” He asked, already reaching for your hand. You didn’t understand what he was planning but figured nothing was wrong with him just holding your hand, whether he was high or not he always enjoyed toying with your fingers. You turned your attention back to the movie, though watching a bit of what he was doing. Cliff took your hand, kissed your knuckles a few times before bringing your hand down to his crotch, palming himself through his jeans with your hand.

You pulled your hand away, even going as far as to scooch further down the couch. “What the hell, Cliff?”

Cliff just chuckled, giving a small shrug. “What? C’mon, been sitting here alone all day, ‘m bored.” He mumbled, reaching for your hand again. You sighed but let him continue. You unzipped his pants and tugged them down a bit along with his boxers, just enough to have his cock spring out. He was already fully hard, the tip was bright red and leaking so you started stroking him.

This was not how you wanted to spend your time at home, the situation as is was enough to make you cry. Your eyes were tearing up as you jerked him off but you managed to keep your emotions under control, thinking you could make him cum and he’d crash. This was not the case as his hand made its way to your head, tangling in your hair and trying to push your head down to meet his member. You stopped and got off the couch. “Cliff, I don’t want to do that.” You stated, your voice wavering.

“C’mon, ‘m almost done anyway.” He reached for you again but you pulled away. “C’mon, please?” He stood up, now towering over you as he wrapped his arms around you, kissing all over your face. His hand slid down your arm before reaching your own and brought it back to his dick.

“No, Cliff, stop! I-I don’t want to.” You protested, just barely holding back your tears. Cliff just kept going, your pleas just seemed to turn him on more and it didn’t take long before he came, white spurts getting all over your clothes and the floor.

“Hah, fuck, see? Wasn’t that-” He pulled away and finally saw your tear streaked cheeks. “What’s the matter?” He asked, bringing the hand that was just around his dick to your face. You took a step back and shook your head, wiping your tears.

“I said pumpkin, why didn’t you listen?” You asked through soft sobs. Cliff stood there dumbfounded, he hadn’t even registered you were speaking, let alone that you had said your safe word.

“I didn’t hear you.” He muttered, quickly trying to get himself situated so he could comfort you. You stormed off into the bedroom, locking the door behind you.

Cliff sighed and fell back onto the couch, falling asleep almost instantly.

A few hours later Cliff woke up again and noticed the bedroom door was still closed. He managed to sleep off his high and went over to check on you but the door was still locked, he tried knocking but there was no answer. He knew he messed up and wanted to do something to make you happy, so he got his keys and a jacket and went out to retrieve some of your favourite snacks.

Cliff returned with a bag of goodies and excitedly went to the bedroom and knocked. “Y/n? I, um, I got you some snacks.” He called through the door. When there was no response he knocked again. “Hello? Oh, are you sleeping? Fuck, sorry.” He backed away but quickly turned back. “You aren’t sleeping, you can’t be sleeping, I’m not sleeping with you.” He whispered to himself and knocked again. “Y/n, love, can you open up for me, please?” He huffed when there was yet again no reply. He just started knocking on the door, not aggressively just light tapping, enough to annoy the living shit out of you.

Cliff just kept on knocking and calling out your name, he didn’t notice you coming out of the bathroom and walking up behind him. “Y/n, please! I’m so sorry, please, just talk to me!” He called. You started digging through the bag he got for you which he finally noticed and glanced down and had to do a double take to make sure he was seeing things right. “Oh, y/n!”

“How long were you knocking?” You asked, pulling out your favourite drink from the bag.

“Doesn’t matter, I got you some snacks.” Cliff smiled as he held out the bag to you. “I wanted to apologise for today, I’m so sorry that I didn’t listen to you when you wanted to stop.” You nodded along and wrapped your arms around him, pushing your face into his chest.

“I just had a really bad day and wanted cuddles.” You mumbled, voice starting to shake again. Cliff wrapped his arms around you as well, kissing the top of your head.

“We can cuddle now if you want.” You looked up at him with a smile and nodded. The two of you got into bed, holding each other close as you snacked and talked about your days, mostly you venting to him about work. He was happy to listen and make your day just a little bit better.

Jason was never the possessive type. He had his moments, for sure, but he always trusted you and there was never a time where he ever told you not to hang out with certain people or something.

You went to visit him at the studio and decided to bring him and the other guys lunch. When you got there Jason was in the recording booth, getting his bass lines down. Of course, everyone was very happy to see you, or rather the food that came with you. Jason wanted to finish up his parts before coming out for lunch so you found a stool in the corner and sat down to wait for him.

While he was in there one of the tech guys came over to you and started talking to you. Nothing much, just a bit of small talk. You didn’t see anything wrong with it but when Jason got out of the booth he was pissed. He came right over to you and stood between you and the guy, not waiting a second before smashing his lips against your. “Didn’t know you were coming down here, doll.” He muttered against your lips.

“Yeah, well, I thought it would be nice to bring you and the guys food.” You said with a smile, you could tell something was wrong but you weren’t quite sure what it was. Jason nodded and pulled you into his arms, picking you up and carrying you out of the recording room. James and Lars protested, saying he wasn’t done. They stopped when Kirk reminded them that he had actually finished his parts.

“Jase, where are we going?” You asked, giggling at his behaviour.

“Home.” He replied bluntly. “Need to remind you who the fuck you belong to.” You couldn’t deny that you were a little interested to see this side of Jason. This new dominating, possessive angle of the man you love.

Jason got you in the passenger seat of his car before going over to the driver's side. He didn’t even make it out of the parking lot before he started pulling at your pants, tugging them down your thighs. “Jason, come on, just wait till we get home.” You were still smiling and your tone was still cheery while he started to play with you.

He slapped your thigh. “Shut up, you were horny enough to go after the fucking bellboy or whatever he was.” You looked at him with a hurt expression as he tugged on your panties so hard they broke.

“Jason! These were expensive.” You whined, he didn’t care and just slid a finger over your slick folds. He kept his eyes on the road, glaring at all the passing cars and buildings while sinking a finger in you.

It started out fine, you were enjoying this version of him and the way he was making you feel. “Fuck, Jason, feels so good.” You hummed and rolled your hips against his hand, looking for more of his touch. He pulled his finger out and slapped your thigh again, this time much harsher.

“Shut the fuck up, who said you could fucking talk?” You bit your lip, staring at him a little worried. He stuck two fingers back into you but didn’t wait for you to adjust before he started pumping them in and out of you. There was a small pain but you thought you could handle it. Then he stuck another in, again he didn’t wait.

You were getting closer to home but not nearly fast enough and Jason already had four fingers stretching you out in such a painful manner. You were whining and crying for him to let up, you knew if you absolutely needed to you could use your safe word but you didn’t want to. You had been enjoying where this was going and thought he would let up soon, as soon as you got home. He didn’t.

He pulled the car into a parking lot and turned it off. “Get in the back.” He ordered and got out of the car. He stood there for a moment while you sat in the car, unsure of what to do. Jason came over to your side of the car and opened your door. “I told you to get in the back.” You started crawling between the seats to get to the back but he pulled you back. “Not that way you fucking child, c’mere.” He tugged on your arm to get you out of the car.

“What? No! I’m not going out with my fucking pants down, what if someone sees?” Your voice was a whisper as you expressed your concerns.

“There’s no one fucking here, come on.” He pulled you out of the car and got you into the backseat in a rather aggressive manner. Jason didn’t hesitate and put his fingers right back inside you. The stretch was unpleasant, the way his fingers moved didn’t feel half as good as they usually did. He took it a step further and got his whole fist in you, that’s when you had enough.

“Jason.” You squeaked. “Jason stop, it hurts.”

“Stop being a bitch and just take it, you were all over that bastard back at the studio, just wanna throw yourself at anyone, huh?” His tone and accusation along with the stretch was just all too much and tears started streaming down your cheeks as you cried.

“Please, Jason, I-I’m sorry! I didn’t-didn’t mean to I just-”

“Didn’t mean to? Fuck you mean you ‘didn’t mean to’? Didn’t mean to fuck other guys on your way over?” You shook your head, squirming underneath Jason.

“Please, Jason.” You whined.

“Please, what? Please let me fuck around? Please let me take whatever cock I want?”

“Pump-pumpkin, please, pumpkin!” You cried out. Jason stopped, pulling his hand out of you.

“Baby, what did you say?” His voice was the complete opposite as to what it just was, no longer harsh and accusatory but soft and sweet just as you were used to. “Did you say pumpkin?” He brought his hand up to your face, caressing your cheek lovingly.

“‘M sorry, I just-just couldn’t take it anymore.” You said through sobs. Jason shook his head and carefully pulled you into his lap. “No, no, don’t apologise, you didn’t do anything wrong, I’m so sorry I made you have to say that.” He held you close to his chest, kissing your forehead and cheeks. “I’m sorry I was so rough, you didn’t do anything to deserve that.”

#Metallica #metallica smut #metallica x reader #metallica fanfiction #metallica angst #metallica imagines #Cliff burton #Cliff burton angst #Cliff burton smut #cliff burton fluff #cliff burton x reader #Jason Newsted #Jason newsted x reader #Jason newsted fluff #jason newsted angst #jason newsted smut

131 notes · View notes

ooihcnoiwlerh · 4 months ago

Text

Good evening, my Darlings! I'm sorry about the lapse between updates, but I have a new chapter up on AO3 with the full fic and full content warnings and will have the newest chapter chapter down below.

Chapter Summary: The Reader tries to understand the Harkonnens and gain favor with her husband the old-fashioned way (Part Two.)

Tagged: @alexandrainlove @richardslady121 @blazeflays @wo-ming-bai @cavillandevanssandwhich If anyone else would like to be tagged, please let me know!

Content Warning: 18+; problematic smut; arranged marriage; dubious consent; implied/referenced child abuse; under negotiated kink; problematic BDSM; internalized shame; mild degradation; oral sex (m+f receiving) throat training, come eating, collars and lashes, nipple clamps/nipple play; Feyd-Rautha; impact play/slapping; semi-public sex; vaginal sex; vaginal fingering; knife play; switching; riding; Feyd's strange and fucked up methods of showing affection

Chapter Nine: Quick to Learn, Eager to Please

Your training continues. You wouldn’t call your progress astonishing, but after a week, and then two, you find yourself first sliding into the familiarity of your old training and then picking up on new techniques. You can’t help but smile to yourself when you get in an offensive, notice an opening that you can take that you wouldn’t have just a week earlier. When Feyd-Rautha says, as he watches you spar with Korvo, “You remembered what I told you about your footwork.”

His own regimen is far more extensive, of course. There’s one morning when he strips off his sweaty training shirt and you notice striations in the muscle fibers in his chest that you don’t remember seeing before. Perhaps it’s the brighter lighting compared to your bedrooms.

The soreness becomes normal, stiffness you stretch out every morning before you leave for the Training Halls and soothe in the afternoons a couple of times a week in the Relaxation Chambers before resuming your self-imposed Harkonnen language lessons. The routine is its own comfort that tides you over as you receive letters from back home that all sound relieved that you’re still in one piece. And, somehow, you are. These elements–the training, the moments spent in the library and studying the Harkonnen battle language–make you feel a little more like this Fortress is a home that you can live in. You’re not confident enough to try and impress Feyd yet with what you’ve learned but have found that Idrisa’s an easy tutor. The first time you tried speaking, unprompted, in battle language to her she did an almost comical double-take before politely offering advice on how to improve your pronunciation.

“The Na-Baron will be delighted to know that you’re making an effort to learn more about his culture,” she added to soften any potential blow to your ego. Since then, every day, you exchange basic greetings and sentences in Harkonnen with her, and each day you try to add a little more. Idrisa’s gentle, but honest once she realizes that you won’t be offended by her critique.

The matter of your pregnancy is still in question–it’s still too early to tell, not for lack of trying. The collar and leash make a reappearance–on a night he also placed metal clamps on your nipples and took your mouth again until between the shock of the clamps barely fading with time and the suffocating pressure of his cock venturing further and further within the wet cavern of your mouth had tears streaming down your face and silent pleas for him to finally fuck you–but strangely enough the flogger, as he calls it, hasn’t. When he strikes your backside he seems to prefer his own hands, maybe because for every time his hand descends it stings his palm as well. Sometimes he brings out ropes, one night ties your arms behind your back and takes you from behind, one hand in your hair until he comes hard and pulls out only to bury his face against your backside and lick your cunt, tasting his own spend as it leaks out of you until you shudder and climax around the flicker of his tongue. You’re past the point of being shocked by the idea of your husband tasting his own semen; it’s funny to think that such a thing would’ve horrified you a few weeks ago. Most of this probably would.

The night that he introduces the clamps you use his bathroom afterwards, see your splotchy face and worn body, and wonder how much of your enjoyment is genuine and how much is simply a tool to acclimate to it. Does it really make a difference? The pain from the clamps had gone from sharp pain to an insistent ache that left you trembling. The way he’d held your head in place as he’d guided his cock into your mouth and kept it there, pulling out only long enough to let you breathe and pushing back in for longer increments until you felt almost light-headed. Does it really matter how or why it made you sufficiently wet to take him inside of you? Is it not just easier to accept it than to dwell on the accompanying shame of it?

So far, you’ve realized, he hasn’t asked you to hurt him beyond scratching his back and arms when he’s inside of you, or biting down on the meat of his shoulder until you break skin. Hasn’t asked you to subjugate him with the silver collar and chain he keeps, always noticeable but never mentioned after that night. Perhaps he’s waiting for the right time, the right sign that you’d be able to hurt him as deliciously as he does you.

You think of the silver collar and how it would look against his pale skin as he waits patiently for instruction, like a fierce but loyal guard dog.

The image of it makes something you can’t quite name unfurl like black smoke in the pit of your stomach.

Between training you to fight and training you to take his cock in a variety of positions, Feyd gives ample reason for you to enjoy the soothing attention you get in the Relaxation Chambers.

Once, when you enter the chambers, you see another woman walking by you; she’s well-dressed, clearly the wife of a high-ranking member of Harkonnen militia, and you speak before you can stop yourself.

“Hello,” you tell her, and she stops, blinking in confusion. You’re starting to get better at gauging peoples’ ages around here without hair or eyebrows, and you guess her to be in her early thirties, with a round face and hazel eyes.

She stands, awkwardly, clearly wondering why you’ve just spoken to her, before inclining her head. “Good afternoon, Na-Baroness.”

“My apologies. I don’t think I’ve learned your name yet,” you tell her, extending your hand.

She takes it in a gentle shake. “Indeed you have not, Na-Baroness. It’s Liana Druganin, wife of Piter Druganin,” she says, managing to keep a polite tone before she drops your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Druganin,” you tell her with a small smile.

She reciprocates and it looks as manufactured as the fake wood paneling.

You’ve seen this before, but until now have been spared actually experiencing it: that moment when an attempt at friendship is made and the recipient can only think, Why are you talking to me? Go away . She won’t say it, not in a thousand years, because you outrank her. But the look on her face, almost bordering on panic at the idea that you’ll keep trying to talk to her, says it all.

You clench your jaw, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. “Well,” you say, “Have a lovely afternoon, Lady Druganin.” You both know that it’s not true, and that it’s also not true when she replies with a feeble echo of your sentiments.

She turns to go with a polite bow of her head and a stiffness in her shoulders that hadn’t been there before you spoke to her. You watch after her and for a moment, she starts to turn around before thinking better of it.

You try to stay resolute. No matter , you tell yourself. They will start by respecting me. They don’t have to like me yet . My children will play with their children and I will be their Baroness. They’ll learn.

Still, the sting of it is enough that you have to look over a letter a friend sent you to remind you that you’re perfectly capable of making them.

You write another. There’s a growing pile of letters that you keep in a desk drawer and in moments like these pull them out and re-read them and remember that even if they’re not here, there are still people who love you.

Feyd’s birthday is almost here–in a week the Bene Gesserit will visit and Feyd will execute prisoners in the arena under the guise of sport. There will be hours of celebrating afterwards with more flash than the solemnity of a Harkonnen wedding. You want to ask if there will be dancing, because there wasn’t at your wedding. You’re not sure what Harkonnen dancing would even look like. Or music, beyond ceremonial war chants. The party afterwards will also be the first time you’re properly presented to the Fortress as the Na-Baron.

Not that you’ll be expected to make any speeches or hold anyone’s attention, but a dress is being made for you to commemorate the occasion and you’ll represent not a person but an idea, a symbol. This is the part of marriage you’ve been preparing for most of your life. When you were younger your mother was honest about what marriage would look like for you; that your husband would probably be someone you didn’t know very well or perhaps not at all until the wedding, and that it would be your duty to represent the best qualities of your House and, if your groom was from a different House, his as well. That for you, marriage would be about politics first and that love would come eventually as you got acclimated to your new husband and the role you’d be playing, and even then that it might not be a passionate or easy kind of love.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen isn’t a creature compatible with something like love. You were almost surprised that there’s a word for it in his language. You’re not sure if you could ever grow to love him, or he you. You’re not sure if it’s an emotion he’s capable of feeling or if the strangely companionable routine you’ve developed with him is the best you’re going to get.

Your children, though, you’re certain you’ll love, even if they’re raised to be cold, even as they’ll never quite look like you, and you’ll teach them how to express it. You’ll make sure that no matter how strict and unforgiving their father will bring them up that they’ll always have you.

In a letter addressed only to your mother you ask her what you can barely form in your own mind and couldn’t possibly ask anyone else here. You ask her how early she was able to tell, because you can’t. You must be, or else something’s very wrong, but you haven’t had a moment after he’s finished inside of you that you felt life growing there. You don’t feel different yet, and certainly don’t look different. When do you feel a tithe to them? You look at your stomach in the mirror as if expecting it to swell already and wonder if the rush of maternal love will come once you can confirm it or if it happens once you have the baby. There’s no shortage of information on the physical aspects of pregnancy but nothing on that. The closer it gets to the Bene Gesserit’s visit the more real all this becomes: you’re going to be a mother, on a brutal and unforgiving planet that you’re constantly torn between assimilating into and rejecting to maintain your own sense of self. You’re going to need all the help you can get.

There’s another shift, four days before Feyd-Rautha’s birthday.

It starts out as a normal training session, with Feyd putting you through close range maneuver drills.

While the rest of the Fortress is busy preparing for his birthday celebrations, he seems somewhat detached. You’d assumed he’d be more excited at the chance to kill more prisoners in front of an adoring crowd; he’d seemed like he was having a decent enough time killing drugged men for Geidi Prime’s entertainment before the wedding. This, however, he treats like an obligation that he discusses only in the most pragmatic terms and as part of his responsibilities as Na-Baron. You’re not entirely sure why, or what if any moral quandary he might have now that he didn’t nearly a month ago. But you decide that your grasp of Harkonnen pronunciation has improved enough that you can give him an early birthday present and surprise him with your efforts so far.

It’s while you separate long enough to take a minute-long break that you decide that now is as good a time as any. You take a breath and remember how Idrisa taught you to say the words before offering him a friendly smile and throwing out the words in imperfect but improved Harkonnen.

“ Do you know what you want for your birthday, Husband? ”

He blinks, taken aback for the sweetest of moments before tilting his head and giving you a small smile as if to say, Huh. How about that. Like you’re a dog that’s performed an amusing trick. It would feel embarrassing were it not for that he could have had a much worse reaction.

He responds in kind, with what you can only partially interpret as “ Yes, wife, and I ….” something garbled or a phrase you haven’t learned yet, “ what is mine .”

Well. Tone and implications count for a lot. You might not understand the wording exactly, but you think you get the general picture he’s painting for you as you feel yourself blush. He circles around you and adds, speaking faster than the instructions you’re used to hearing and a few words are indecipherable, “ I’ll eghl as my wife, lawswh you off to all of Geidi Prime .”

Before you have time to respond he locks you into position, his front to your back and his blade against your throat. “ To zxncoh to my people that you took my seed and you’re sadghl my heir .”

Other people can hear, you think, scandalized. Maybe not all that well, he’s not speaking loudly, and other people are focused on their own training but still…

His cock is hard and flushed against the small of your back. Your head is spinning. He inhales sharply, as if he can smell the growing wetness between your legs. He withdraws his blade, holsters it in his scabbard, and turns off his shield. On instinct, you turn off yours. There’s a couple of seconds you’re both still, and he opens his mouth, nuzzles your hair. And then…

“Everyone out!” he calls out, the gravel of his rasp not suited for yelling, but he manages all the same. A servant opens the door and everyone files out without a word in less than a minute, and then the door slams shut.

He turns you around in his arms and kisses you hard.

He’d talked about doing this the first day he trained you. It’s really a testament to his self-restraint that he’s waited this long to do it, you think as he backs you into the wall and braces one forearm beside your head. His other hand sneaks into the waist of your pants and beneath your undergarment.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and gasp into it as he brings his fingertips over your bud and circles lightly, at first anyway. One fingertip slides along the slit of you, feeling for your growing wetness as he rests his lips against your hairline. You feel him break into a self-satisfied grin as he says, “I think you can handle two, don’t you, pet?” and slips his middle and index fingers in without waiting for you to respond. You try to tamp down on your whimpers, the way the echoes of the room amplify every sound, including the slick wet noises of his fingers twisting and pumping inside of you, finally crooking forward the way you like. It’s hardly fair of him to use that against you.

Oh, Great Mother, they’ve probably got their ears pressed up against the door, listening in, hearing everything—

–And then he slides in a third finger and crooks them again.

You buck your hips, the wind knocked out of you in a silent scream.

“You like that?” Feyd asks, his voice in your ear.

You know I do. For fuck’s sake, Feyd, just do it again. You let out a desperate whine, biting your lip as you nod and he rubs you down again, feeling you shake around him. You feel searingly hot, knowing your face is flushed, knowing that everyone outside knows what the two of you are doing.

You made this choice weeks ago. You made this choice over a month ago when the Reverend Mother told you who you were to marry.

You still his hand, giving a small nod as if to say, I’m ready, and he withdraws, tilting his head and waiting. You hardly take a breath before you turn and descend to your knees, pulling your pants and smallclothes down your thighs and spreading your legs as far as you reasonably can before bracing your hands against the wall. Your breath is already ragged. You rest your forehead in between your hands.

“ Fuck me, husband ,” you manage in Harkonnen.

Feyd huffs a laugh and settles down behind you. The sound of him unfastening the front of his pants is shockingly loud within the cavernous expanse of the room, and even as you’d wanted to hold back on your noises he punctures them out of you with each thrust.

You’ll forgive yourself this indignity. You’re doing it for a greater purpose , you tell yourself.

And then Feyd thrusts at just the right angle that has you letting out a strangled moan, shaking around him, barely able to hold onto the wall in front of you before he brings a hand between your legs.

“That’s it, pet,” he murmurs in your ear. “Don’t hold back. Make all the pretty noises you can,” he says and brings his fingers back to your bud. You cry out, tears pricking up at the corners of your eyes and you’re not entirely sure from what, clenching hard as he uses the pressure around him to power through, pulling you onto him as he growls and snarls and fills you to the brim.

You tremble through it all, shutting your eyes. A few months ago you would never have pictured yourself doing this, letting a man fuck you from behind while over a dozen people in a hallway mere meters away could hear, and certainly would never have pictured coming from it. A few months ago you would never have pictured marrying a Harkonnen.

Afterwards, he holds himself to your back, giving one last soft thrust before pulling out. You yank your smallclothes and pants up as fast as possible to avoid any kind of spill, wincing at the mess of fluids smeared between you and the gusset.

“Is it always messy like this?” you ask as Feyd tucks himself back in and rises to stand.

“If you’re doing it right,” he says, offering a hand to guide you up.

Once he has you he cups your chin with his hand that had fondled you under your smallclothes. You know immediately what he’s about to do and open your mouth, allowing him access as he slips his fingers inside.

“Clever thing, aren’t you?” Feyd says, watching his fingers go in, watching your eyes as he pushes them until they reach your soft palate and you just barely manage not to gag at the taste and scent of your own juices on his fingertips, the brush of his fingertips pressed too far in for comfort. He withdraws them as he says, “Quick to learn, eager to please.”

You shut your eyes, exhaling shakily as you lower your head. You can’t name the twisted combination of shame and pride at his condescending praise.

He cradles your face again. “None of that, now. Look at me, pet,” he says. And when you do, swallowing around nothing, jaw clenched, he looks at your face, studying the look in your eyes as if he can understand what you’re feeling better than you can.

He kisses you again, bruising, searing, burying his other hand in your hair. He gives you a moment to catch your breath when he releases you, and then looks at the door. His eyes flicker between you and it for a moment before he strides towards it to let everyone back inside.

“I would never have done what we just did for anyone other than you,” you call after him before he can get there, before you can stop yourself. “ Never .”

He stops and looks at you. “I believe you believe that, Y/N,” he says. “You were the first virgin I think I’ve ever been with.”

You furrow your brow. “Really?” you ask, his response briefly taking you out of the embarrassed pit you’d started digging for yourself. You’d sort of assumed that he’d had a history of deflowering frightened young women. Sort of assumed that it was one of his Na-Baronly duties.

He gives a mono-syllabic grunt in the affirmative before opening the door.

You don’t envy everyone shuffling in, avoiding looking at either of you directly as they offer quick honorifics and resume their training.

You’re too shaken to be of much use for the rest of your session, not to Feyd’s surprise.

“Let’s call it a morning, Y/N. Go to your quarters, take a shower. I’ll see you at breakfast,” he says, and you’re biting down on a sarcastic, why thank you, Na-Baron. The squelch of your come leaking out of me is a bit distracting. I appreciate you noticing , when he leans in and gives you a brief kiss on the mouth.

You blink in surprise. He seldom kisses you when there are other people around, and certainly not in front of his soldiers while he’s training. You hesitate before returning it.

“ Thank you, husband ,” you tell him in Harkonnen as you pull away. The curve of his mouth twitches in what you hope is a smile.

You’re certain after that you’ve gotten a good amount of leverage, as much as you’re probably going to get until you become a mother, but what then?

You can learn to live with Feyd as the father of your children, with him being the formative authority figure in their lives. You’ll never try to convince yourself that deep down he’s a kind and decent man, but you’ve noticed that he has his own, albeit twisted, set of moral standards. It’s the idea of the Baron being in their lives at all that worries you. You can’t imagine any way in which his presence could be a good thing, especially for any sons you’ll have–and surely Feyd must know this?

A thought forms and grows even as you try to shut it out. It’s impossible, you tell yourself, and still you can’t help but wonder.

At dinnertime the following evening your grip tightens on your fork as at the head of the table the Baron eats roasted bird down to the bone and you wonder how fragile his own must be after what must be years now of not being able to move on his own.

There’s not a chance that you’d be able to get rid of him personally. You’d be killed long before such an attempt could come to fruition. But you’ve read a bit about Harkonnen history, and Barons have been usurped before, ones in declining health replaced by those who’d go on to prove more capable and more ruthless than their predecessors. Feyd knows his own history far better than you do, he’s read about this.

He tried to kill his uncle once. What’s stopping him now that he’s entering the very prime of his life? When he has a wife and, soon, children to think about? When the Baron’s over seventy and hasn’t been able to walk on his own in years?

Can he be convinced?

You keep your head down, glad that no one here can read your mind, glad that the Baron only seems to pay attention to you if he seems to be wondering if it’s too early for you to start showing.

I’ll spare you the suspense: it is, you’d tell him if you had the nerve.

That night Feyd comes to your room and takes you and there’s a moment between when he finishes and when he decides to sleep in his own quarters that you think about suggesting it to him.

The people respect and fear you . It’s your time. You’re ready.

You have a duty to Geidi Prime and the Bene Gesserit and me to keep our children safe and there’s no guarantee of that unless you get rid of the Baron.

In the end you can’t bring yourself to say it. Not yet.

You wake up to the feeling of a body behind you and cold steel against your throat, and it takes you less than a second to realize that you’re not dreaming, and the person shifting in behind you and bringing both arms around you is very much real.

You let out one scream, to alert any guards nearby, but nothing else to waste your precious breath as you reach for the forearm leading to the hand that’s holding the knife and jerk one shoulder up as hard as you can, trying to dislodge him.

This is so much easier standing up than laying on your side, you realize with immediate clarity, having never felt more awake in your life as you try to duck your head in the scant gap that you’ve made, grabbing his wrist and struggling as he refuses to give you enough space to properly move.

You still manage to keep your hand on his forearm, ducking just enough to squirm out of his arms and plunge his knife into his ribs and then…

The knife hums but doesn’t pierce his skin.

He has his shield activated , you realize, panic setting in, eyes trying to adjust to the dark. If I can evade him just long enough to get his shield off then maybe–

You bite down on the man’s other arm, hard, breaking the skin and drawing a moan out of the man behind you that you don’t have time to recognize sounds familiar– you just need to get on top of him, get the upper hand –and duck under his arm long enough to turn and swing one leg over the man’s waist and pin him on his back to your bed, finally wrenching the knife out of his hand as you point it as his chest and…

You stare, panting and stunned. It hadn’t occurred to you to question how someone could get into your chambers, hadn’t registered that your assailant was wearing pants but no shirt. All you could think about was the knife at your throat.

Pinned underneath you is your husband. He fixes you with a smile, looking utterly pleased with himself.

“You’re improving; that’s good,” he says.

You nearly drop your knife, barely having the mind to set it on the bed next to Feyd’s shoulder, realizing that you’re sitting directly on top of his stiffening groin. Feyd turns off his shield device before propping himself up on his forearms.

“I had to make sure that you were prepared. If you’re ever ambushed it won’t be in a training room with a warning,” he says. He ignores your ragged breaths and stunned expression quickly turning to anger.

You slap him as hard as you can. The cracking sound could deafen you; pain shoots down your wrist from the impact.

What the fuck?! I was terrified! you almost say before he sits all the way up and pulls you into a ferocious kiss. You give back as good as you receive, almost snarling into it, gripping the back of his neck, before pulling away for breath.

“I’m fucking furious with you,” you tell him.

“Good,” he says, and pulls you into another kiss. He gives a quiet moan at the taste of his blood in your mouth, staining your teeth, and licks it off of you. He draws an arm across your naked back and buries his other hand in your hair. Anger turns to adrenaline turns to arousal that has you panting against his mouth before something occurs to you.

“Wait, what happened to–” there are always a couple of armed guards at each end of the expansive hallway. They would’ve been able to hear your screaming.

“I told the guards that I was conducting a drill and that if they interfered that I’d feed them alive and screaming to my Darlings,” he says.

You’re deranged , you think, and reach for his pants with only one goal in mind, and for a moment you picture him flipping the two of you over, fucking you into the mattress like he does every night and sometimes in the mornings, reducing you to mewls and whimpers.

No.

This time he can be the one who gets fucked, that follows the rhythm of your hips. You’ve only come close to that kind of leverage once before but if he wants to be inside of you tonight this is what he’s going to get.

You grab the dagger left on the sheets and press it to his collarbone.

“You nearly killed me,” you tell him. “I’ll take what I want from you.”

He grins at you with his black teeth and gums. “I was only trying to make you think I would kill you, but you did well, so you can take whatever you want.”

You exhale through your nostrils. Think I’m bluffing? you want to ask as the tip of the blade just barely pierces his alabaster skin. An image flashes like lightning in your mind and grows like the clap of thunder–him prone underneath you, laying back and taking everything you give him. Your mouth falls open at the idea and shuts again as you push at his chest, watching as he goes down.

Something flashes in those blue eyes of his as he has just enough reach to turn on the light and you relax the blade just enough to let him do it, let him give you a good look at him.

“Go on,” he says. “Take your reward.”

You huff an-almost laugh, stunned, delighted. You think of him collared but quickly dismiss the notion. Next time. You’re too impatient to leave the room. You look down at Feyd, pliant and waiting beneath you, and press the tip of the knife just barely against his skin. “Help me get your pants off,” you tell him as you raise your hips enough to give him access.

His eyes blaze as he does as he’s told, raising his hips to push them down his legs, kicking a little to get them further down. Do they come all the way off? Probably not. You don’t care. His cock stands at attention, and you relinquish the knife in order to brace a hand on his stomach, your other hand positioning him at your entrance. Feyd’s hands in turn cup your hips. It takes some finessing, moving on top of him; it’s not a position you’ve explored much before but you’re slick enough that it’s effortless to line him up against you and slide down onto him.

“You wanna ride me?” he says as you rock your hips for the first time and a moan spills from your lips. He feels so good, you think, almost dazed, mouth falling open.

“Is that what this is called?” you ask, resting your hands on his chest, taking the opportunity to squeeze and grope whatever you can find.

Feyd lets out a breathless laugh, sliding his own hands over your hips, bringing one up further to squeeze one of your breasts in turn. “Among other things,” he says.

You almost laugh as well; this way it’s almost like his body’s a fun toy you can use to amuse and please yourself. You have better access to the rest of him this way, and he you. He’s never really let you touch him like this, and you wonder–he doesn’t have breasts, but would he still like it if you touched his nipples? You rock your hips, still getting a feel for the rise and fall, the drag of it, as you circle your thumb around one of them before pinching the bud between it and your forefinger. For a moment you expect him to snap at you, grab your wrist and growl a warning at you, but he twitches and gasps and you repeat the gesture.

Your breath hitches and you can’t help but smile for a moment, delighted at the new information you have on this man, the vulnerability of him under you. Would he, under the right circumstances, allow the clamps he’s used only once on you? You bring one hand to his bare thigh as you try out different movements and speeds, oscillating between a rolling grind, bouncing up and down, a combination of both as the friction from this position is a unique thrill that builds the heat within you just as fast as the drag of him inside of you.

He brings one hand to your neck, thumb to your pulse point, and gives a light squeeze. You just bear down and ride him harder as if to say, You think that scares me? I know you, husband. You’ve hurt a lot of people and you’re going to hurt more, but not me. Not in a way that I can’t handle and come back from.

The clarity of it is almost shocking, but you know in your heart that it’s true; even tonight is his own perverse kind of fondness.

What a strange fucking husband, what a strange fucking marriage you have, that minutes after you thought you were about to be killed you feel safer than you have with him so far.

Your orgasm rips through you faster than you’ve ever managed with him inside of you, has you crying out as you shut your eyes and throw your head back, stomach and thighs clenching and every nerve on fire. For a moment everything’s red and everything’s hot and you feel like you’ve just incinerated yourself, and then you come to, mouth open and hips still jerking in short thrusts on top of him and all you can see are Feyd’s pupils blown wide as he stares up at you.

There’s a moment you realize that you could deprive him of an orgasm. One of the first nights you were together, the moment it seemed like you were about to come, he’d smugly withheld it from you. Now that you’ve gotten yours, you could stop, climb off of him, and tell him he can finish himself off. Right now he seems dazed, mouth open, his grip on your throat more of a loose hold. For a moment you picture the lost look on his face if you do it.

That moment breezes by, and you start rocking onto him again, panting and moaning as you scratch down his chest, your nails catching onto his nipples, making him buck his hips and moan, the movements jostling your insides. He’s close–and somehow, you’re building again with your frayed nerves, but you’re going to need his help to bring you over with him.

Well, maybe not need. But you’re going to tell him anyway.

It takes you a few tries, mouth open, trying to form the words, before you say, “Touch me,” and you’re pretty proud of how it comes across as an instruction rather than a plea.

In turn it takes him a moment to register your orders before sliding his hand to your neck down to one of your breasts, squeezing and fondling one and then the other, and finally, mercifully sliding his other hand from your hip and resting it high up on your thigh, rubbing his thumb along your apex.

“That’s it,” you manage, closing your eyes, gritting your teeth at how frustratingly close you are while still so sensitive, so determined to make it over the edge before he does. He’s panting underneath you, his heart pounding, sweat dampening his chest and his thigh and he shifts his legs and–oh. Oh . That’s it. You don’t register your own moans and cries as you shut your eyes against it, feeling him coming inside of you, hearing a guttural moan ripped out of his chest as he arches his hips up into you and for a moment you feel like everything’s shattering, everything bursting into air. After a moment you still your hips, taking in shuddering breaths, waiting to come back to yourself.

You open your eyes again and look down at Feyd, who looks at you like he’s never looked at you before and you realize this is what it’s like for someone to be in awe of you. It’s a powerful feeling, especially from him.

You kept this away from me for nearly a month? you want to ask. You let out a laugh. You’re soaring. You’re delirious. You want to go again even as you tremble.

Feyd ends up talking first. “Now what, pet?” he says, running his hands over your shaking thighs. “Anything you want.”

You catch your breath. He’s still under you, still subdued and tamed–for now. You lean forward, bracing your forearms on either side of him, enjoying the shift of the angle of him inside of you even when softened. He gives a slight hiss as you roll your hips once for good measure.

“I want to keep you inside of me until you get hard again, and then I want to ride you again until I can’t anymore,” you tell him.

You haven’t seen him drunk but you can imagine that it looks a little like this, the way his head rolls to the side and he grins, still looking dazed and bedazzled. You can hardly blame him; you feel almost out of your own body as well.

I have you. I have you. I have you.

#feyd rautha #feyd rauth harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd x you #dune part two #dune part 2 #feyd rautha imagine

54 notes · View notes

a1307s · 11 months ago

Text

Flickers of Green #1

(Dick Grayson & Jason Todd)

[Art is not mine! Credit to jjmk-jjmk]

Requested by: quirkyshortdumbo11

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

H/C: Hair Color

E/C: Eye Color

Word Count: 6,297

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Implement of rape

Mentions of Death/Blood

Cursing

———————————————————————

No, no, no, no, no! I rush through the rubble, pushing through every and anything in my way. After six months of searching, six months of watching the Joker beat them, six months of watching what he's done to her, six months of nothing but them in my thoughts they can't be in here. Jason can't be in there. Y/N can't be in there. They can't be dead because of me.

My lungs scream as I breathe in the ash and smoke, but I can't let it stop me. I have to find them. I have to find my robins. I have to find my robins alive.

Despite my pleas to all the gods I don't believe in, I don't get them answered. I push over part of the fallen ceiling, my worst nightmares coming alive once I get it moved. Jason is curled up around Y/N, clinching her to his chest, even in death. Their blood mixes, soaking into their suits, into the rumble, and Y/N's beautiful hair. The same beautiful hair I tied a bow into the last morning I saw her.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred calls through the coms. "Progress report?" His voice cracks at the second word, squeezing my heart even more.

"I've... they've been located." I'll never forgive myself for this, but Dick's grudge against me will still last longer.

—————————

I don't even know why I agreed to this. I swore off Batman, Gotham, fucking Bruce two years ago. Yet, here I am, looking over the stupid citizens of Gotham as he licks his wounds. I know why I'm doing it; because Alfred asked, because Alfred didn't want Bruce on patrol with an injury, because I can't say no to Alfred.

Bruce's newest Robin is perched up on the ledge next to me as he rattles on about something. I don't know what he's saying or even care. I know I shouldn't hate the kid; Bruce's actions aren't his fault but what the fuck Bruce? Jason and... their blood wasn't even shed yet, and Bruce had replaced them. Replaced them with this kid that won't fucking shut up. "A part of being stealthy is being quiet," I hiss out, my words dipped in venom more than I intended them to.

"Oh, right, sorry," Tim mumbles, obeying orders and falling silent. I close my eyes before taking a few deep breaths, making sure to exhale slowly to calm myself. "Nightwing-"

"Quiet," I hiss again, trying to focus on my breathing so I don't misplace any more of my anger onto this kid.

"Ya, I know, but-"

"Robin! What? What's so important?" I bark at him, snapping my eyes open and turning towards him.

"I think there's someone following the lady down there," he whispers, pointing towards the sidewalk across from us.

"What?" I ask, snapping my eyes towards the direction he's pointing. He's right, a younger-looking woman is walking down the street, her skirt flowing around her legs as she walks, her long dress coat doing the same. Hidden in the shadows a couple steps behind the girl is a big figure. They slither behind the girl, making sure to keep pace with them. "I'm going to investigate, you stay up here as backup," I mumble, getting to my feet as I think of how to sneak up on the stalker.

"Yes, Sir!" Tim chirps, skirring to his feet to follow me along the rooftops.

"Don't call me sir," I order, before letting myself fall from the roof we've been perched on. I land gently on my feet, standing up to glance around, keeping track of the shadows and which ones will be best to hide in.

"Yes, Si- er - Nightwing," Tim starts over the coms before correcting himself. "What's the plan?"

The plan is to get it through the citizens of Gotham's heads not to walk around the streets at night. "I'm going to follow them on ground level in case the suspect makes any rash movements. You follow along on the rooftops. Make sure to stay silent and keep pace. Do not move unless I say so."

"Okay," Tim mumbles, pokes of his red suit coming in and out of view as he creeps along the ledges. I keep myself engulfed in shadows stretching out from the walls.

"Once the lady is safe somewhere I'll take action to get this guy off the street. Got it?"

"Got it," he calls over the coms again, ducking behind a vent as he waits for me to catch up a bit. So much for staying on pace. Despite Tim's eager steps, I stay parallel to the subjects, the only thing suppurating us is the thin street. Or at least I do until the lady turns around a corner.

Her stalker follows, the corner streetlight exposing him for a second as he jumps between shadows. He's a bigger guy, easily over six feet and having anywhere from fifty to seventy-five pounds on me. It's impressive that he manages to stay hidden so well. Almost Batman impressive. From the glimpse I got, I also managed to see a red helmet covering his face which doesn't help me much to identify the culprit.

"That's not good," Tim mumbles over the intercom, his voice laced with worry. "That's the Red Hood."

"Red Hood? Is that the crime lord that's been piling up bodies faster than the Joker?" I whisper back, annoyance filling me up. So much for Alfred's 'it should be an easy night' speech.

"Ya, that's the one," he answers, the worry only building up more in his tone. I stay tucked on the corner of the street, making sure this Red Hood guy isn't looking before I dart across the street. I make quick - but silent - paces as I sneak up on him. I need to jump in before this lady becomes his next victim.

"Are you in place?" I ask, glancing up for a quick second to make sure the sidekick made it across the street too.

"Yes."

"Okay, change of plans, we can't wait this out and act later." Tim stays silent, waiting for my orders. "The next alley we pass, I'm going to pull him into it to take him down. The lady will scurry off as I handle it. As she's running off you tail her and make sure she gets somewhere safe, got it?"

The line stays silent for a while before Tim's voice peeps up, "Yes, sorry, got it. I forgot you couldn't see me nod." What the hell kid? You've been Robin for almost three years now and you still make beginner mistakes.

I shake the thought out of my head, focusing on the situation in front of me. The next alley is about five paces in front of the lady, making it about ten for the Hood guy and fifteen for me. I quicken my steps some, ending up right behind him as he passes the alley. I grab a hold of the man, tugging him to the right. Hood skids, his weight playing against him and causing him to fall hard. The silent street is filled with the sound of his helmet clashing with metal.

"What the hell?!" The guy yells, quickly jumping back onto his feet. "Fucking Nightwing," he mumbles, shaking his head before stepping towards me.

"Hood," I call back, lifting my fists to prepare myself and to cover my face.

"Nightwing!" Tim calls over the com.

"Not right now," I hiss, ducking as Red Hood swings at me.

"Just move aside Wing, it's not what you think," Hood shouts, going to swing at me again.

I duck again, going for his feet as I'm down here. "You're a notorious killer chasing after a girl, what else am I supposed to think?" He sees through my attack a little late, managing to avoid falling but he stumbles. He falls against one of the dumpsters causing the alleyway to be filled with a loud crack again, but this time it's paired with the screeching of his gun barrels sliding against the dumpster.

"Nightwing!" Tim calls again causing anger to boil in me.

"You're supposed to be tailing the lady," I answer back, pulling my Escrima sticks off my back as I approach my newest sparring partner.

"I am, she's heading-" Tim starts, but I don't catch the rest of his sentence. While I was distracted with the newest Robin, Red Hood ducked down and swiped my feet out from under me. Dumb little shit using my tricks against me. He starts walking towards me pulling his gun out of its holster as he nears.

"What do I do?" Tim calls, worry laced into his words once again.

I reach for my nearest stick, debating if I should throw it at his head to buy me time or try another leg sweep. "I don't know Robin, whatever you think is best." I decide on the stick, if it doesn't get me enough time to get up, it'll at least aid me in knocking him over. Hood's gun lowers as he stands over me, the barrel pointed at my forehead.

I tug my hand forward, setting myself up to throw it at him when I'm cut off. "Lady don't!" Tim's voice screeches out, filling my ears through the com as well as echoing through the alleyway.

"Don't shoot!" A female voice yells, thin fingers wrapping around the barrel of the gun and pushing it away from my head, up towards the sky. Before I know what's going on the alley is filled with the echoes of a bullet being released from it. I stay frozen, my mask going wide as I take in the scene in front of me.

The lady from earlier is standing next to me, her hand still around the barrel and her arm stretched up as it's pointed into the sky. Her hair is in two buns on top of her head, the H/C color of it reminding me of Y/N's hair; well besides the streak of grey wrapped through her left bun. I don't need to be thinking of Y/N right now, that'll only distract me from saving this lady. "What the fuck is your problem, you daft cow?" The lady yells, ripping the gun out of Hood's hand.

Daft cow? Okay, this girl or Bruce or even Robin has to be fucking with me. There is no way this random ass woman uses the same insult as Y/N. Much less the same British insult she picked up from Alfred. "Don't stand there and look dumb at me. What do you think you're doing?" She repeats, her hands pointing the gun towards the ground, her fingers nimble as she works to drop the magazine.

"I... hi," Red Hood spits out, seeming just as lost as me.

"Hello," the lady answers back, handing the empty gun back to him before turning towards me. What the fuck? The face looking down at me is the spitting image of Y/N... well a slightly older Y/N. "Here you go," she says kneeling to hand me the magazine.

My focus stays trapped in her eyes. They're shiny and bright and the same E/C color Y/N's are - were. Y/N's were. Because she's dead. Unlike Y/N's eyes, this girl has flickers of green around her irises. "Thank you?" I say, the words coming out as a question instead of a statement. I sit up, moving slowly towards her to take the magazine being held out to me.

"You're welcome!" She chirps out with a smile. The same feeling of warmth I get - got - from Y/N's smile fills my chest, loosening some of the knots of stress. "What are you two fighting about anyway?" She asks, standing back up.

It can't... she's not... "How?" I spit out, skirring to my feet.

"How what?" Tim asks, appearing at my side.

Y/N's - she's not Y/N - this lady's face falls as Robin comes into her sight. Her jaw clenches, eyes going hard making the green stand out more. "I got to go," she whispers, her tone throwing imaginary daggers alongside her words.

She goes to walk past us, but she's stopped by Red Hood grabbing her arm. My hand falls to my belt, my fingertips grazing a bat-a-rang as Tim does the same. "Let... let me walk you home," he whispers, barely loud enough to meet my ears.

"What the fuck is with all you superheroes?" She asks, shaking off Hood's hold on her as she glances around the three of us. "Two days ago, I had a frantic Batman shoving hundred-dollar bills into my hand. You- " she starts, tossing her hand towards Hood "-have been trailing me for three blocks, you-" her hand shifts from Hood to Robin "make me unbearably angry for god knows why, and you, you fucking daft cow belong in Blüdhaven, not Gotham so why are you here?" Her hands fall to her hips as her right one pops out some. Her eyes are still hard and beautiful, and I so badly want her to be my Y/N. "Are you going to answer me?" She sasses, her head tilting as she looks up at me.

"I..." My words stick in my throat as I look at her. I lift my hands some, their shaking very noticeably. They don't stop shaking as I place them on her shoulders. She's warm and real and right here. Her eyes soften, shifting to confusion instead of anger. "Y/N?" I finally weasel out.

"Good guess," she says a smile crossing her face as her hands fall from her sides.

"Y/N?" I repeat, my heartbeat filling my ears.

"That's my name, don't wear it out," she teases, shrugging my hands off her shoulders before slipping past me.

My mind screams at me to walk after her but my body refuses to move. It takes a second for my mind to clear and for my eyes to adjust to the guy standing in front of me. The Hood has barely moved an inch this whole time. "What's next? You going to end up being Jason Todd?" I half-heartedly joke, a broken laugh falling from my mouth.

Red Hood hums a bit, turning his head in the direction Y/N went. He starts walking that way but ends up shifting to the left instead of the right. Before turning the turned he stops, his head turns, peering over his shoulder at me. "We both know that Y/N being alive isn't the only secret Bruce Wayne is hiding from the world."

The words cut through me as he disappears. "Should we go after him?" Tim asks, pulling on my sleeve some.

"We're going back to the Manor," I mumble, turning on my heels. Bruce has a lot of explaining to do.

———————————

My heart beats loud in my ears as I sit in my patrol car. I tried talking to Bruce about Y/N but he just shut down like he always does. I've kept on his case for the past couple of days but if he doesn't go silent, he starts yelling about nonsense so he's a dead end.

I talked it over - both Y/N being alive and Jason being the Red Hood - with Alfred. It turns out that Bruce has known about Red Hood being Jason since shortly after the first time they had a run-in. He did some digging and found out the Al Ghuls had a hand in his revival - and his sudden turn to valiance.

Also, it turns out that he found out about Y/N two days before we did - like she said. Alfred said that Bruce believes Y/N doesn't remember much from before her death, or at least is pretending not to. Apparently, she had no idea who Batman or Bruce Wayne was. Personally, if I were in her situation, I would pretend not to know who he was too. Since finding out about all this I've been super pissed at Bruce and have refused to talk to him, let alone step foot in Gotham.

Despite this, the universe has other plans. Gotham was short officers - shorter than usual - so my Captain back in Blüdhaven sent out a group of us to help pick up the slack. The whole time I've been here, I've been on edge. What if I see her again? What if I don't see her again? Being given the job of patrol doesn't help much either. All I get to do is sit here and wait; wait for someone to speed or try to mug someone else or try to do any other minor things. Sitting here and waiting doesn't help my thoughts to stop circling.

I should talk to Y/N. I need to talk to her. What if she doesn't remember me? What if she does? Is she taking care of herself? How long has she been back in town? Is she alive because of the Laza pit too? If she is alive because of Al Ghul, did she serve time in the League of Assassins like Jason?

These thoughts aren't any good for me. At least not while I'm on duty. I need to leave the distractions for the small time between being Officer Grayson and being Nightwing. Maybe some coffee would help. I decide to climb out of the cruiser, making sure to lock it before I start walking down the street.

Around the corner from where I parked is a small twenty-four-seven cafe called Pamela's Cafe. It's always decked out in neon lights that stand out against the cloudy Gotham sky. We - Jason, Y/N, and me - used to go every night after patrol. It's one of the only businesses that have managed not to get burnt down or robbed into bankruptcy because their donuts are Joker's favorite. It's weird when you think about it but hey, at the end of the day, fed people - even villains - are grateful people.

I round the corner, doing an environment check as I continue the short walk. I look into the cafe's big windows as I walk past them. They seem pretty busy, but I'm not surprised. Their prices are low, their food is good, and milliners and villains alike boast about it.

The bell above the door jingles as I push the door open. "Welcome in Officer!" One of the workers chirps out. I nod at them, joining the line in front of the register.

"I still don't understand why there are different colors," A feminine voice pipes up from across the room. It's soft, soft enough not to disturb her neighbors. The voice rings through my head, sounding like bells to my ears.

A soft sigh follows her words. "The different colors are different element groups. Give me your notebook Y/N." I instantly recognize that voice. It belongs to Scarecrow - well Dr Crane. Before I can stop myself, I'm moving towards the voice. Is it my Y/N? If it is my Y/N, why is she talking to the scarecrow? Why is the scarecrow talking to her? Why the hell are they talking about elements?

It doesn't take long for the doctor to fall into my view, and in turn, in my pathway. He hasn't changed much from my Robin days. He's still scrawny as ever with thin, dirt-brown hair, and big owl glasses that expand the size of his eyes. "Now, the teal-colored ones are basic metal elements," the doctor starts, bending his head down, probably to write in Y/N's notebook he asked for.

As I come up to the booth they're sitting in, Y/N - my Y/N - falls into my sight. Her eyes are still a mix of the natural E/C and flickers of green as she turns from the doctor to me. "Hello Officer," she says, a lop-sided smile on her face.

"How can we help you?" Crane says, standing up from his seat and attempting to squeeze between Y/N and me. It doesn't work very well. I'm a slim man but Scarecrow makes me look like a bodybuilder.

"I just..." My thoughts escape me as I keep my focus locked on Y/N. "Just wanted to buy Y/N a coffee," I squeeze out, smiling back at her.

The doctor glances between Y/N and me a few times before turning towards her. "Do you want him to buy you a coffee? I'll make him go away if you don't." Sure, you will, Doc. It's not like I've been whooping your ass since I was nine.

"I don't mind. It's not very often a hot officer offers to buy me a drink," Y/N teases, propping her head on her hand as she continues to look at me with her loopy smile. She doesn't remember who I am, she doesn't remember who I am, she does not remember who I am.

Crane looks me over once more before nodding towards Y/N. "I'll stop by later tonight to check over your chem homework, okay?"

"Mkay," Y/N hums out, pulling her notebook to her side of the table. Scarecrow keeps his eyes locked on us as he slowly walks out of the cafe and continues to until he can no longer peer into the windows. "So, Officer-?"

"Grayson," I offer, sliding into the booth seat across from her.

"Bruce Wayne's Grayson?" She asks, curiosity filling her eyes, her head lifting and her fingers lacing together as she stares at me.

"Ya," I say nervously, glancing around the cafe. "Do you want a coffee?" Of course not, Y/N doesn't like the taste of coffee, she always thought it was-

"Coffee is too bitter. Do you mind if I get a Vanilla Frappuccino instead?"

My eyes snap back at her, drinking in her smile, and her hair, and her beautiful eyes. God, her beautiful eyes that are somehow even prettier with the flickers of green mixed in. "Ya that's fine," I mumble, glancing at the line before looking back at her.

She giggles a bit before propping herself up on the booth. She turns around, scanning the coffee bar. "Hey, Addison?" She calls out, getting a 'wassup?' in response. "Do you mind making me a vanilla frap and-"

Y/N cuts herself off, looking over her shoulder at me. "Uh... just a black coffee and maybe a donut."

"- and a black coffee with a chocolate chip muffin?"

"Do you want me to use your daily discount?" Addison asks, getting another giggle out of Y/N.

"No, Officer Grayson is buying me a coffee," Y/N responds, her words bubbling out of her. She turns back around, shifting back to a sitting position before talking to me. "You don't want a donut right now. They're way better after their first made so you got to get one either at three a.m. or three p.m. I've never been here at three a.m. but for some reason, I just know they're better than, you know?"

"Ya, I know," I breathe out, my mind running a mile a minute. Does she remember coming here with me? Does she remember me? Or is it just her conscious knowing that she's supposed to know these things? Is she getting her memories back? How long until she remembers who I am? Who Alfred is? Who Bruce is? Does she remember what the Joker did to her? What he did to Jason? "So..." I peep out, watching her watching me, "Tell me about yourself."

Y/N hums softly, shifting her eyes around. "I can't really tell you about myself because I don't know myself."

"What can-"

"Here you go!" The Addison girl struts over, cutting me off as she sets Y/N's coffee down. "Officer Grayson," she coos, taking her time to set down my coffee and my muffin. "Call me if you need anything, okay?" She adds, continuing her cooing as she gives me my bill.

I glance down at it. Eight dollars, not too bad for two coffees and a muffin. "As I was saying," I start again, turning towards Y/N, "What can you tell me about yourself?"

Y/N's a bit distracted, her smile gone and her eyes following the celebrity hopper as she slides back behind the counter. "Um... I hate the taste of coffee."

I chuckle at that a bit. "Well, ya, I know that already." She turns back towards me, blessing me with the sight of her eyes again. "Do you have a favorite color?" It's orange, dark orange like Wally's hair.

"I really like orange. Not like sunset orange, I think it's too light. More of a copper orange." My heart pings at her words but I try my best not to let it show on my face. "I don't remember much of... anything," Her voice is soft on the last word. "But I do have a fuzzy memory of the color."

"Ya? What's the memory?" I push, picking up my cup. When I glance down at it, I see the waitress's number scribbled on it. I hate Gotham.

Y/N takes a second, closing her eyes as if that'll help clear up her memories. "During it, I was on the beach I think... Maybe just in a pool, I don't know. But I was in a body of water and an older boy - like way older - was holding me. I think he was teaching me how to swim, I don't know," Y/N's eyes snap open, a small smile on her face. "I don't remember much of it; I just know his hair is or was orange and the color makes me feel comfortable." I know what memory she's talking about.

Bruce took in Y/N when he took in Jason. Jay made it very clear that they were a packaged deal and Bruce didn't mind. He wasn't kidding either. He and Y/N ran the Gotham streets together for half their lives.

It didn't take long to figure out that neither of them knew how to swim so the team decided to take a day off and go swimming at the Happy Harbor beach. It took most of the day to get Jason unattached from Y/N but somehow Wally managed too.

Walles took her into the water and kept a hold of her as he swam around and eventually managed to get her to swim a bit on her own. At the time Wally was 20 were as Y/N and Jay were 12 so I'm not surprised she remembers him being so much older than her; it probably felt like that at the time.

It's one of my favorite memories. It's one I look at every day. I have a picture of Y/N wrapped up in Wally's arms as they're swimming on my desk at work.

"I have a question, but you don't have to answer it," I say, being careful with my words.

"It's about my memory loss, ya?" She asks, her smile falling as she sips on her Frappuccino. I hum a yes, watching her body language for a response. I don't want to make her uncomfortable.

"Well, there's not much to tell. Six months ago, I just... woke up in Gotham Hospital. The doctors say that I probably ended up in the crosshairs of Batman and one of the Gotham goons since I was littered with injuries and had quite a few wounds to my head. They also said I'm suffering from temporary dementia and that my memories will - hopefully - eventually come back."

"How do you know your name is Y/N?" I ask, trying to push the images and videos from Y/N and Jay's death out of my head.

"Well, they did a blood test and tested it against Gotham records. Apparently, I used to be quite the troublemaker. When they did my blood test, they found the DNA of some dude named Jason Todd on me. I have no clue who that is but apparently, we used to get into trouble together all the time. I googled him and... well, he's been dead for a couple of years. It turns out he was a ward of Bruce Wayne, just like you. Did you know him?"

My heart pings again for Y/N. "Ya, I knew him," I answer, pulling my eyes away from her face. If I look at her too much longer, I'll end up crying. It must have been so hard for her. It must still be so hard for her. Waking up and not knowing who you are. Getting a lead to someone you were once close to and then finding out they're dead. Walking around living your life not knowing anything about yourself.

Y/N hums, pulling my eyes back to her. Her hands are busy putting her school supplies back into her bag. "Well, I hate to dine and dash but I have a speech class to get to. I don't know if you'd be open to it, but could we meet up again? I'd like to get to know about this Jason guy. I'm pretty sure he was important to me."

My heart squeezes in my chest again. Jason was important to Y/N. They loved each other so much. The thought of lying to her crosses my mind. I've adored Y/N forever, but I could never compete with the history she has with Jay, so I never tried.

But now? She doesn't even know the guy. I could lie through my teeth and tell her that Jason left her behind after Bruce adopted him. With dementia - even temporary dementia - there's never a promise that any, let alone all her memories will come back. But I can't do that to her. Even if her memory never clears, I wouldn't be able to live a life of a lie with her.

"Ya, I'd like that," I say, placing a smile on my face. I pull out my notebook, quickly scratching down my phone number and address before handing the paper to her.

"Thank you for the coffee," she says, a smile huge on her face as she looks down at the yellow paper.

"You're welcome," I answer back, my heart picking up some as she smiles before it falls back down as she walks away. "Y/N?" I call after her, quickly throwing down a ten before jumping to my feet. When I get near her I grab her arm so she can't get any further away. Once she's stopped I drop her from my hold. I shouldn't have grabbed her like that.

"Ya?" She asks, looking up at me with those big, beautiful eyes. I could spend the rest of my days looking into them, counting all the green strips that have become recently present in them.

"You... Bruce... Bruce Wayne and his butler, Alfred, knew Jason quite well too. I'm... I'm going to call him and tell him I talked to you, okay? Feel free to go to the manor at any time and talk to them too, ya?"

"Okay, thank you, Officer Grayson," Y/N chirps out, her smile growing before she slides out of the cafe.

Bruce doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve to see Y/N alive, doesn't deserve to see her well and happy and breathing. But Y/N does. She deserves to know who she is. She deserves to know there are still people who love her and care about her.

My heart races as I walk out of the cafe, pulling out my phone on the way. My fingers shake so badly as I push the call button that I have to double-check to make sure I push it. "Hey Bird-Boy," Wally says, his voice as excited as usual.

"Hey Walles, I think you should sit down. I... have some really good news."

———————————

My heart jumps when my cell rings. I'm quick to grab it, a smile playing on my face when I see Y/N's contact. "Hello."

"Hello!" Her voice is as cheerful as ever when I answer her call. "I think I have the right building, but your call button doesn't work."

A couple of hours after we met up, she called me to set up another one. It was the longest week of my life, waiting to see her again, waiting to get the chance to show her who she was. "Oh, ya, I forgot about that. I'll be down in a second."

"See you soon, Officer," She teases before the line is hung up.

I'm quick to rush out my door and down the stairs to the apartment building entrance. My excitement makes it a bit of a struggle to open the door, but I do manage to get it open. Today Y/N has her hair down with a headband bow-looking thing in it. Her eyes are still super bright, causing my breath to hick a bit when I take them in. "Are you going to let me in, or do you want me to melt away in the rain?"

"No! Come in, please," I rush out, stepping aside so Y/N can get some shelter from the rain. She smiles a bit, sliding in next to me in the hallway. "Umm... this way," I mumble, gently grabbing her wrist to pull her towards my apartment. Y/N pitter patters behind me, her head shifting around to take in the hallway. Not that there's much to take in.

I let go of her when we get to my apartment so that I can hold the door open for her again. She says a small 'thank you' before walking through the door frame. Y/N reminds me of a drop of sunlight as she walks around the living space. Breathing life into the dark, gloomy apartment. I watch as she walks around, taking in the small kitchen before shifting her attention to the living room. "How long have you lived here?" She asks, her fingertips running over the different books packed onto my bookcase.

"About six years," I whisper, scared if I speak too loudly that this will all turn out to be some fantasy I've credited in my head. I take slow steps towards her, stopping close enough behind her that if she moves, she'll brush up against me. Y/N doesn't seem to mind though, her attention staying on the shelves.

"What's this?" she asks, tipping one of the photo albums I have so she can look at it better.

"It's a photo album," I answer, wrapping my fingers around the spine of it, slightly grazing her in the process. Y/N tilts her head a bit at the touch but doesn't say anything. "Do you want to look through it? It might help with your memories."

"Maybe," She murmurs, sliding out from in front of me. Her back rubs against me as she moves, warmth enveloping me as she moves. I watch as she walks over to the couch, making herself comfy on it as she waits for me to follow.

I follow after her, photo album in hand as I sit down next to her. Her eyes light up when I place it on her lap and open it, causing the green flickers in them to remind me of emerald silvers.

Her hands are gentle as she flips through the book. She stops now and again, taking a second to take in the photo and think it over. She flips the page again, starting the Happy Harbor Swimming Day section. Thanks to M'gann there are about a hundred pictures from the day.

"That's the guy! From my memory," Y/N cheers, pointing to a copy of the picture I have on my desk. "That's Wally." I can feel hope clawing up my chest as I try to push it down. "He's Kid Flash, ya? Oh shit, I don't think I'm supposed to say that." Maybe it's okay to have a bit of hope after all.

"Don't worry, I already know he's Kid Flash," I reassure her, wrapping my arm around her neck to pull her closer to me.

Y/N's eyes flicker up at me before turning back to the photos. "My memories are coming back faster than they have been," she says, her eyes flickering again.

"That's a good thing."

She hums softly, flipping another page and taking in the pictures. "I'm remembering a lot about Jason, and you."

My chest tightens some, both hope and fear seeping in. None of us are perfect, especially those of us who serve the world as vigilantes. It leads to a lot of fear and stress and anger that likes to manifest and cause fights. I've picked my fair share of fights. With Bruce, with Alfred, with Jay, and Y/N. I don't want those to be the memories she remembers first or the only memories she could get back of me.

"Ya?" I finally squeeze out after a pause of silence. It feels like my heart falls out with the words.

"Mmhmm" she hums, flipping the page again. She's finally out of the beach day and is now looking through the photos from Jay's 13th birthday. "I remember calling you Wing all the time which is weird. Maybe? Maybe not since I remember Wally being Kid Flash. You're like super deep into the hero gig ya?"

"Ya... ya I am."

"Was I a hero?"

If my heart didn't fall out with my words before it sure as hell did now. It's going to kill me having to tell her everything, having to tell her how she died. "There's a lot I need to explain to you," I finally say, pulling the photo album off her lap and placing it on the table in front of us. Her eyes turn towards me and once again the flickers of green trap my attention. Tonight is going to be longer and more painful than any patrol I've ever done.

———————————————————————

#young justice #young justice oneshot #jason todd #dick grayson #redhood #nightwing #jason todd oneshot #dick Grayson oneshot #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #redhood x reader #redhood oneshot #Nightwing oneshot

127 notes · View notes

angelasscribbles · 2 months ago

Text

Audrey's Broken Heart

Fandom: Astrea's Broken Heart (Romance Club)

Pairings: Audrey (F!MC) x multiple LI's

Word Count: 2,479

Rating: MA for mentions of violence

Warnings for this chapter: mentions of violence (canon), slight sexual innuendo.

A/N: So that last chapter (season 2, chapter 1) left something to be desired in my mind. So I rewrote it and tweaked a few things.

I have no idea who to tag other than @harleybeaumont because I don't know who is into this story and I can't even remember the RC blog that is like CFWC so here it goes out into the ether. May the odds be ever in it's favor!

My other stuff: Master List.

The world spun as I lay on my back, gazing up at the stained glass window above me.

So this is how I die.

The fucking irony.

I had escaped one religious cult only to fall victim to another… after a lifetime of avoiding and rejecting even the most mundane churches and religious philosophies.

How? How had I ended up here?

This was Ruth’s fault.

Assigning blame wouldn’t help me now. I needed help, but there was no one to call. My cell phone was gone, and no one even knew where I was. Instead, I prayed. I prayed to a God I had ceased to believe in. I prayed fervently as I cast my eyes around the church searching for a way out… a weapon… an ally…. Anything of use.

There was nothing.

Nothing and no one. And no response from God.

I closed my eyes against the inevitable. A deep, all-encompassing grief spread through me.

I wasn’t ready to die.

Faces flashed through my mind, but not the ones you would think.

It wasn’t my parents or a lost love that occupied my dying thoughts. No. It was the four men who had inexplicably become my whole world.

David. He had offered to come with me or at least drive me here, but I hadn’t let him. I should have let him. But then he’d be in the same predicament. David. Sweet, sarcastic, passionate. The world needed him in it. At least I could die knowing he was safe. That was some amount of comfort.

Mikael. Would he be disappointed? Sad? I thought so, but I wasn’t sure. There seemed to be a connection between us, but nothing tangible, nothing ever spoken. He was the consummate professional. He would be there to comfort the others.

Cassiel. His job was to protect us. Where was he now? Would he blame himself? I hoped not. He was already too serious, too angry at the world. Despair filled me as I realized that the progress we’d made would die with me. All those cracks in his armor would refill and seal shut forever.

Raphael. He lived with a deep, pervasive sadness. This would only make it worse. It might destroy him. He was too good for this world. Compassionate. Caring. Vulnerable. As I lay dying, I swore I could feel his soft lips on mine again.

There was a commotion and my eyes fluttered open, but what I saw didn’t make any sense. Or maybe it did.

I saw an angel, which was appropriate because I was dying. Had he come to collect my soul?

I could feel my life slipping away. I was too weak to fight anymore, too weak to even cry out for help, too weak to understand what was happening around me.

No one was trying to kill me anymore. The cult members had scattered. A booming voice filled the room, promising damnation and darkness.

The angel was raining vengeance down on the evildoers. It would have made me happy if I’d had the energy to feel anything at all.

Through the last vestiges of consciousness, my fog addled brain registered something wholly impossible.

The angel…. It was Raphael.

My eyes closed again as I sank into the darkness.

The next thing I was aware of was the warmth of my own bed.

My body was leadened. I couldn’t move or speak, but I knew I was home, and more importantly, alive.

Barely.

I was vaguely aware of voices as I faded in and out of consciousness. Distressed murmurs. Fervent pleas to live. Voices that rose and fell in discord and grief.

When my eyes opened, I was in a verdant valley of lush green grass and rolling hills. The sky above me was a vibrant blue.

Across the valley was a glimmering golden light pulsating from an open portal. I could feel the peace emanating from it. I felt pulled toward it. I wanted to go to it, enter it, and forget all the pain and chaos of the world I’d left behind, but when I took a step toward it, I felt an equally compelling pull in the other direction. I turned to look back and found myself staring down at my own body.

Mikael perched next to me holding my hand, heedless of the blood covering it, and now him. “I can’t hear her.” His voice was filled with despair.

I felt his touch and the pull to go back became slightly stronger. I took a step in that direction and paused again, casting a glance back at that golden glow that promised peace.

My mother appeared beside me. Laying her hand on my shoulder, she gave me a look filled with compassion, love, and regret. “It’s up to you if you go back or not.”

“Mom?” My voice quivered. I opened my mouth but couldn’t decide which of the million questions spilling through my head I should ask.

Before I could process the fact that my mother was with me, that I was being offered a choice between continuing life or not; before I could ask her anything, the pull from my body grew stronger.

“You were sent to us for a reason, Audrey…”

I looked back to see Mikael holding my body close to his. Mikael covered in my blood. Mikael pouring his healing energy into my broken body. Mikael with tears of grief pouring down his face. My choice was made, and I was suddenly back in my body.

“I’m sorry, Audrey, but healing souls is beyond my power…”

What power was he talking about? I still couldn’t speak, couldn’t open my eyes. Everything hurt. He lowered me onto the bed and laid his head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat. He started to pull away from me, but I finally managed to move, wrapping my arms around him weakly.

He froze. Hope filled his voice. “Audrey?”

I clutched at him tighter, and he moved so that he was lying next to me, cradling me in his arms. “It’s okay, Audrey. I’m here, I’m here.”

“Audrey?” It was Raphael’s voice, and it flooded me with memories of dying. Quiet but terrified sounds issued from the back of my throat.

He tried again. “Audrey, you are home. You are safe.”

Yes. Home. Safe. Raphael was here, Mikael was here. I was safe. My eyes fluttered open and my heart surged with joy and relief when I saw his face. Then my gaze dropped to his white shirt, rumpled and soaked in blood. Was it my blood? Or the blood of the cult members?

No. That was impossible.

The image of Raphael as an avenging angel came back to me, and I swear I saw him that way again. Standing in my bedroom at Astrea, glowing with wings sprouting from his back. I clutched harder to Mikael as I shrank away from him.

Pain flashed through Raphael’s eyes. “Audrey, I saved you. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

I blinked several times. One moment he had wings, the next moment he didn’t. I was losing my mind. Of course Raphael would never hurt me.

Mikael held me tight and reassured me. “It’s okay, Audrey. Raphael would never hurt you.” Then to Raphael, “She’s been through a trauma. She needs time.”

“Of course, I’ll go.” He sounded so broken that my heart shattered.

“Wait!” I cried out. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Audrey. Would you like me to take away the memory?”

I blinked up at him as he approached. “What?”

“I can take away the memory of what you saw.”

“How?”

He gave me a sad smile. “The same way Mikael healed you. There are things about us that you don’t know. Your memories will be recoverable, but this will give your mind a chance to heal before we confront all that.”

“No.” I shook my head as a vision of my mother in a verdant meadow flashed through my mind. “Don’t take my memories. Just…. Hold me for a moment?”

Mikael released me as I was engulfed in Raphael’s arms. I clung to him as if my life depended on it. He had saved me. Twice now. The memory of him catching me when I had fallen swirled through my mind. I had no idea what he was or if my mind had been playing tricks on me in that church, but to the very core of my soul, I knew that this being would never hurt me. None of them would. The tears started as my body began to shake, a delayed reaction to the horror I had experienced.

A clatter in the hallway drew everyone’s attention. Mikael excused himself to check on it. I heard raised voices in the hallway. Mikael’s and David’s.

Snippets of the conversation floated in to me. Enough to discern that David had done something to the villagers and that Mikael wasn’t happy about it.

I pushed away from Raphael and looked up into his face. “Let him in. I want David. Please!”

I needn’t have asked. The next moment, he was barging through the door. “Audrey! Audrey, are you okay?”

I pushed myself up into sitting as he threw himself onto the bed. Another man covered in blood, but not mine. David hadn’t been there like Raphael and he wasn’t the one that had healed me like Mikael.

The cult members. The villagers. I instinctively knew whose blood it was and why. He hadn’t been there in time to rescue me, but he had avenged me, and I loved him for it.

“I think so,” I answered as he pulled my body this way and that, inspecting me for injuries. When he was satisfied that I was no longer dying, he embraced me fiercely as tears slipped down his face. “I thought we had lost you!”

“I’m here. I’m alive. Thanks to Raphael and Mikael.”

Raphael wrapped his arms around me from the other side, and the three of us sat that way for a long while.

When David pulled away to wipe the wetness from his face, I looked around the room to find Mikael standing awkwardly at the end of the bed. I gave him a weak smile. There was only one person missing.

Before I could ask where he was, Cassiel appeared in the doorway, as if summoned by my thoughts.

“How is she—” his question was cut short as his eyes fell on me sitting up in the bed.

He then did the most un-Cassiel thing I’d ever seen. A smile of relief and joy lit up his face as he bound across the room and leapt onto the bed unceremoniously knocking the other men out of his way as he scooped me into his arms and hugged me firmly against him while raining kisses on the top of my head. “Audrey, you’re alive!”

“Yes!” a laugh burst out of me despite the terror I’d been through. Cassiel acting like an over exuberant puppy was possibly even more surprising and unlikely than me being kidnapped by a deranged cult.

I looked around at the other three men, but none of them seemed upset at being displaced.

David was a little bemused while Raphael radiated nothing but happiness. Mikael wore a thoughtful expression as his eyes traveled from me to each of the other men.

The image of wings sprouting from Raphael’s back was still occasionally there when I gazed at him, but it was fading as I convinced myself that part had been a dream.

But I was healed. Raphael had managed to save me somehow. Mikael had done something to bring me back. Raphael had admitted to having powers. And David had somehow gotten to the village and back in a time frame that didn’t seem wholly possible.

I pushed all of that to the side. There would be time for questions later. I needed a shower. And food.

Cassiel released me and moved away as if suddenly embarrassed by his outburst. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I told him before requesting privacy for a shower.

I stood before the bathroom mirror and inspected my body. There were no cuts, scrapes, bruises, or other signs of the torture I had endured.

How was that possible?

I hugged myself for a moment before stepping under the spray of hot water. Whatever had happened, I was happy to be alive and whole again. At least physically.

When I emerged from the shower, there were fresh, clean sheets on my bed. I sank into it gratefully.

One by one, the guys showed back up. Mikael brought food with him. I devoured it. I guess almost dying works up an appetite. I noticed they had all showered and changed as well. All physical proof of my ordeal had been erased. My body had been healed. My mind and soul were going to take a little longer.

Cassiel was the first to move toward the door. “I guess we should get out of here and let you get some rest.”

My cheeks flamed red as I stared down at my comforter and asked, “Could one of you stay?”

David spoke up immediately. “I’ll stay!”

“We’ll take turns.” Mikael’s tone brooked no disagreement.

“Fine,” David acquiesced, “I’ll take the first shift.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Raphael said. “You’ve been through a horrible ordeal. It’s normal to need support.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be here in two hours to relieve you,” Cassiel told David, then turning his attention to me said, “We won’t leave you alone and I promise no one will ever hurt you again.”

Something in his tone made my heart race. I believed him.

The others trailed out of the room. Someone clicked the light off.

David gazed at me with the same intensity he always did, but all the playfulness was gone. “Tell me what you need, little witch.”

The familiar nickname earned a small smile from me as I snuggled into the covers. “Just talk to me until I fall asleep.”

“I can do that.”

“Would it be weird if I asked you to lay in the bed with me?”

His mischievous grin finally returned. “If I ever say no to that, go ahead and shoot me because I’ve clearly lost my mind.”

“Stop it,” I scoffed, “I’m serious!”

“So am I.”

He climbed into bed and tenderly wrapped his arms around me. As if he were afraid I would break. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” My body relaxed into his. I listened to the sound of his voice as the horror of the day receded a little.

As I slipped off to sleep, I knew one thing for certain. Everything bad that had ever happened to me had happened outside these walls. Whatever was going on in here, I was safe. I was surrounded by love. I was home.

#romance club #rc abh #rc david #rc cassiel #rc mikael #rc raphael #angelasscribbles #rc fanfic #rc fanfiction

33 notes · View notes

0kayblue · 9 months ago

Text

Choices

A drunken kiss, unspoken feelings, and a nasty argument leaves Leon in a cracked state. Painfully stuck in the crossroads of realization that nothing is going to get better until he starts talking and actively takes the steps to come to terms with his past and his disjointed emotions.

Word count: Almost 5k (not throughly proof read)

Angst. Language. Gun mentioned. Drinking mentioned. Happy ending. Partners to friends to lovers? The timeline is a little funky so let me explain: the events of Raccoon City take place in 2004 and that places this story towards the start of 2011.

A/N: Long time no see, huh? Things got heavy and they got heavy fast. Between vacation, moving, and the holidays; I’ve kinda fallen off the face of the planet. But it is what it is and I’m back for a minute or two.

As far as requests are concerned I’m working on them, but I get distracted with other ideas. My google doc is full of rough outlines and unfinished works in progress. I don’t have any idea when things will come out, they just will. I apologize, but damn, life is stressful.

Anyway, I hope you all are having a lovely day, week, month, and year. Please enjoy!!

“Hey. . .” Leon starts, his voice low and like gravel with uncertainty. A sense of deprecating self-consciousness following in the silence, before he lets out a frustrated huff. “You didn’t pick up, not that I’m surprised. . .but still, it hurts.” He admits as his grip on his phone grows tighter before it loosens and a conflicted sigh leaves him.

“I’m. . .sorry.” He struggles with the apology as he shuts his eyes and another exasperated sigh leaves him, “Truly, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did and I shouldn’t have pointed the finger at you. It’s not your fault and it never has been. I need you to know that, I need you to know that I know how I’ve been acting lately is stupid and. . .” He stops as he opens his eyes and looks around the dim space of his empty living room, the loneliness of this moment threatening to swallow him whole. The numbing silence of the room mixed with the silence on the other end of the phone became too much to handle causing him to swallow the confession on the tip of his tongue.

He licks the dryness from his lips as his other hand goes to massage his forehead in a stiff and irritated manner. He sucks his teeth as his hand falls while he lets out a disheartened sigh as the words fall from his lips, “I can’t do this without you here.” He admits with frustrated sorrow, “I need to see you. I need you to look at me. I need you to. . .I just need you.”

The static of the other empty line cuts through silence like a rusted combat knife through brittle sheet metal. Leon’s lips part for another sigh to escape him, but it never does. The air stays lodged in his throat before he painfully swallows.

“Look,” The word came out dry and somewhat short, before he clears his throat. “I’ve got some things I have to deal with, but if you could come over just for a moment—or at least call me back– it doesn’t have to be tonight; but sometime.” He can’t stop it from sounding like a desperate ramble; a plea for your silence to be broken.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back, but it probably won’t be until the early hours of the morning so if you could just at least call me back tonight. Let me know you’re okay. You don’t have to give me any other information and I won’t ask, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He explains softly, biting his tongue to keep himself from making the accusations that scream at him.

He opens his mouth to say more, to at least say ‘bye’; but he can’t, so he pulls the phone away from his ear and he ends the call. A frustrated grunt leaving him as he peers down at your contact photo, his gaze softening as he studies the smile on your face. The photo one that he cherishes with every heart string he has; a moment he was able to capture without you knowing. The rarity of being able to capture a genuine smile on your face. He recalls the day fondly and for a moment a smile curls at his lips until he eyes glance at the time in the top left corner of the thin device. He locks his phone as he stands from the loveseat you often perched yourself in whenever you were over, the seat cushion practically molded to only sit your frame comfortably.

Putting the phone in his pocket he makes his way through the kitchen and to the door that leads to the garage; grabbing his car keys from the key hooks by the door and opening the garage door.

The dark of night not holding its usual tranquility as the earthy smell of the heavy rain floods his nostrils. It’s eerily fitting given his current circumstances and it makes his skin crawl slightly as he gets into the driver seat and starts the car. Putting the car in reverse he backs out of the garage, his ears starting to ring slightly as the quietness of the night floods the car. A slight scoff leaves him as he goes to shut the garage door and he heads north towards his destination.

—------------------------------------------------------------

Leon drives for hours in silence trying to put his head together. Trying to string together what exactly he wants to say while also remaining focused on the road ahead. All his thoughts scattered and disorganized; any sense of pulling it together immediately wiped out whenever his phone buzzed. A thin line of hope is always shattered when he glances at it and it’s just another notification about god knows what. It didn’t matter and he didn’t care because it was never your name on the screen.

It felt as if you were playing this silent treatment thing as if your life depended on it and it was killing him. Suffocating him. Each ping brings him above the tidal wave for just a moment before being dragged back under by the force of the freezing crisp waves. He could almost taste the bitter salt water with each defeated sigh of disappointment.

His glare on the road sharpens as he sees the abandoned gas station, slows, and makes the sharp right turn into the parking lot. The sound of stray gravel gritting against the tread of the tires as the car reaches its destination, Leon on the other hand still has another hour until he reaches his.

A single unmarked cruiser awaiting him parked perfectly in between two faded and barely visible white lines. He parks his own car a couple spots away from the cruiser before he shuts it off and steps out of the car, grabbing his phone and keys sliding them into his back pocket as he takes calculated steps to the cruiser. The rain only becomes more intense as he tries not to be affected by the cold laced into every drop that hits him, soaking his clothes slightly.

“Should’ve brought an umbrella.” He mutters to himself as he opens the driver’s side door of the cruiser and gets in. He shakes slightly in an effort to get any excess water off before running a hand through his damp hair, the water slicking it back for just a moment before his bangs fall back into place.

He leans over the center console and gets into the glove compartment on the passenger’s side. A single car key and a beretta 92fs pistol sit exactly where they were supposed to be. He opts for the cool metal of the hand gun as he picks it up and inspects the weapon briefly, leaving the safety on before he sets it in the passenger seat. He then takes the car key and starts the car, whereas his car was quiet the cruiser engine debates on whether or not to come to life and he almost took it as a sign to give up despite not being a superstitious man; but he digresses as the old cruiser decides that Leon is worth the ride.

Just as he goes to put the car in reverse his phone pings and he immediately takes his hand from the gear shift and fishes for it with a grunt from his back pocket. A moment of relief leaves him as this time the contact that greets him is yours. Quick to unlock the phone he is greeted with a text of only one word:

‘Maybe.’

“Maybe?” He grumbles, “What the hell does that even mean?” He asks no one but himself and yet is met with the low rumble of the cruiser’s transmission. Before really thinking he goes and types a reply, staring at the message with a puzzled expression.

‘Maybe what exactly?’

Surprisingly he barely moved before he got a reply.

‘Just maybe.’

He takes in a deep breath before letting it out in a shaky manner. Stubborn, you were always so stubborn. Of course he was too, but he was the one actively trying not to be this time. He was the one trying to get you to open up and not the other way around. Trying to get you to communicate with him, trying to get you to be vulnerable with him, trying to repair the rift between the two of you.

‘Can I get more than maybe?’

‘Please.’

He knows it’s his fault. He understands that regardless of how you left he still hurt you and you still had every right to be upset with him. Neither of you made anything official, never committed to anything, and he was a fool to think that a drunk kiss meant that his feelings were reciprocated and defined you both as an unit. He should have known that your avoidance of him the next day meant that something was off, but he convinced himself that you understood everything. That you knew everything he’s wanted to say for months. So, when he was informed of you being around someone who clearly was no good for you; he snapped.

‘I’ll be by.’

It wasn’t much, but it was something. A crumb that would subside the ache he felt. He lets out a sigh of relief as a small and soft smile finds his face. It was confirmation to him that he hasn’t lost you completely. He hadn’t lost you.

‘When?’

‘Tonight. Please.’

He stares at the screen waiting for a reply he doubts he will get; so he isn’t surprised as agonizing seconds turn into minutes. Glancing at the time he knows he needs to move, and he will. Just a minute more.

A minute passes, then two, and still no reply. He runs a hand through his hair before it finds the steering wheel, gripping it with force. Trying to let out some of the agitation he felt in the least harmful way possible. He tosses the phone into the passenger seat before taking his leave.

—------------------------------------------------------------

Leon pulls up to the agreed upon meeting spot, the headlights of the cruiser reflecting off of the multiple ‘WARNING’ and ‘DANGER’ signs. All signs informing the public to stay clear of the abandoned wreckage that was the nightmare that started his adult life.

He clenched his teeth as he parks the cruiser and before killing the engine he scrutinizes the rusted, faded, and graffitied sign that read:

‘Welcome to Raccoon City

Home of Umbrella’

He can’t help the cold unforgiving glare that hardens his features as he stares intensely at that damn sign. A sign that he once was looking forward to seeing, a sign that was supposed to harken in a new beginning for him. A chapter of his life that he never got to write the way he intended too.

He forces himself to look away as he kills the engine. All that anger and contempt in every movement he makes; the emotions barely subtle as he grabs the pistol and makes his leave from the cruiser. Uncleaned debris crunching under the harsh step of his sturdy weight. The former storm subsided to a gentle drizzle. As if the weather was deciding to be gentle towards him, to be kind as he faced the location of so much of his trauma. Dulled screams and flashbacks of all the things he saw that night flashing throughout every corner of his brain. He grits his teeth as he slams the door of the cruiser shut, the heavy bang ceasing the noise. The memories.

He keeps his focus trained ahead as he strides closer to the steel chain fencing with sturdy steps, the dim yellow light from aged street lights illuminating his path with a dull hum. Unclenching his jaw he puts the pistol into the tight waistband of his jeans as he starts to climb the rusted fence that murmurs whines underneath the weight of his body.

Getting to the top he throws one leg over before deciding to make the jump to the other side. A grunt leaves him as the soles of his shoes make contact with the pitch black pavement, a sharp yet brief pain shooting up his legs. Standing up straight he pulls the pistol from his waistband, shuts the safety off, and proceeds forward. Acutely aware of his surroundings as his stomach starts to turn and bile threatens to creep up his throat.

Luckily he doesn’t have to travel far as the person he is set to meet waits in the shadows, the click of her heels against the damp pavement making Leon fully aware of her presence as he points the gun at her out of fear. It isn’t until she steps closer that he lowers his weapon.

“Leon.” Ada says as she looks at him intently. Giving him a once over before she speaks again, “Someone is jumpy, I see.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the location.” Leon says as he stands up straight, his shoulders remaining tense. Ada nods in a sense of understanding.

“You went through it to track me down and I’ll admit I’m impressed; but I have to ask: why?” Ada’s voice is smooth and low, clearly guarded.

“There’s something I have to talk to you about. Something I need to address.” He admits.

Ada studies him, the tension he carries nearly slapping her across the face; and she knows all the blame can’t just be put on the location. The rubble on the street is a physical representation of the crumbs of trust that was shared between the two of them.

“So, then why go through the trouble?” She inquires, her brow raising slightly, “I’m certain whatever it is you are here to-.”

“No, I need you to hear what I have to say.” He says cutting her off. Clearly uncomfortable, unfamiliar, and direct with her; this whole situation reeking of a rotten smell that they could practically taste.

“Different.” She simply states, very different from their previous meeting six months prior in the rural misty mountainous region of Spain. A change that was lost on her is now clearly present. It’s rough, jagged; and not something she is used to when it comes to him.

The two stare at each other in silence, trying to piece each other together. A clear lack of communication ringing out into the night, something that wasn’t uncommon between the two.

“Do you-.” Leon starts but suddenly stops the question in its tracks. He knew the answer and it was pointless to even ask; so he opts for the next question, “Why didn’t you try and reach out?”

The question takes Ada aback and it shows physically as her eyes widen just slightly before returning to that uncaring gaze. She ponders on how to approach this. On what to say. Coming up short she decides not to say anything regarding the subject; so she changes it.

“Is this about them?” She asks and immediately Leon plants his feet. Knowing that her them meant you; and the feeling didn’t settle well in his bones. His teeth gritted together as his jaw locked. Yet, the fact of the matter remained: she was partly right.

“It is, isn’t it.” Ada states as she crosses her arms, a sense of pride finding her as she figured him out so quickly.

“And if it is?” Leon asks, hoping in vain to throw her off the scent by playing this with a harsh coyness.

“You’re still hung up over a kiss?” Ada asks, the question slipping from her lips without thinking. A rarity from her, so much so that it takes her aback as the harshness of her words hits Leon with a pang of disappointment.

“That’s not what I’m hung up on.” Leon answers, bitterness clinging to each word, “I’m hung up on the fact that after everything I—everything we—went through you didn’t even try to tell me you survived that fall. That you survived and you didn’t bother to at least leave me something to show you were still alive; and don’t even try and say you couldn’t find me. You could have. Easily.” His voice grew stronger with every word he spoke, his conflicting emotions present in each syllable.

Ada is stunned by his candor, the hurt that she caused him present leaving her baffled and grasping for straws. He was being raw here, he was showing her his cards that he held so tightly to his chest.

“That night was the ending to so much. That night—to me— was an unimaginable horror I was not prepared to face; and you…you were right there. You knew so much more than I did and you remained cryptic.” Leon states with a defeated and heavy breath, “It’s easy to direct my anger there; but I know that’s not where it belongs. That isn’t where my heart places it, even though it probably should be because you played it like a fiddle; but that’s not it. Not the way you used me. Manipulated me. What it is in all honesty is the fact that I couldn’t save you. That you slipped from my grip, but yet you still cling to me.”

Silence falls between the two again, but this time it’s different. It’s not a burden even though it remains heavy.

“So you tracked me down to tell me this?”

“I tracked you down so you can let me go.”

The statement left Leon in one breath as he looked at her with a softness to his eyes. A vulnerability in his gaze that swallowed Ada whole. The lack of light behind his eyes shadowing her in a darkness she never expected to feel from him. Her own emotions are becoming hard to keep in check, as her insides start to simmer with an almost forgotten feeling.

The silence clings to their clothes as the night time air becomes lodged in Leon’s throat. Nearly choking him as he examined Ada intently, trying to guess her next move. Trying to put himself in her shoes long enough to figure out what she might be thinking; but all of this was so foreign. So he retreated back into his own head and just decided it was best to let her move from here. He decided it was best to just stop; and that decision flooded his body with relief. His jaw relaxing, his shoulder falling slightly, his knees no longer locked; the utter relief he felt just voicing how he felt was something he least expected.

“Okay.” Ada said, breaking the silence. This newfound development changed something in her that she couldn’t pinpoint. Something half of her refused to pinpoint. This growth she sees from him changes her perception of him.

“Okay.” Leon repeats with a small nod as the subtle rain drops that have been hitting him start to increase. They stand in a tense awkward silence as the wind starts to pick up and begin to howl a broken howl that wavered like a gasped sob. Leon turns to leave before the rain starts to heavily pour again, but the question that falls from Ada causes him to stop.

“Are you doing this all for them?” She asks, crossing her arms. While Leon looks at her with confliction, still not pleased with her need to keep you in the conversation.

“Not completely.” He answers; and that is the truth. He needed this for himself, he knew that; but it would be a lie if you didn’t inspire him to take the leap. That you didn’t assure him that he didn’t have to constantly be fighting this inner turmoil, that he could form some type of peace with it; and most importantly that he didn’t have to do it alone. He deserved to care for himself, something he never considered until he felt the gentle warmth of your care.

“I’d prefer if you would leave them out of it.” Leon says, a protective pitch in his tone that packed a subtle bite. It didn’t catch her off guard, it was him she was dealing with; and she knew that regardless of the strengths she had briefly seen from you in Spain that Leon would still be protective of you.

So, Ada just nods, turns, and takes her leave,“Goodbye, Leon.” Ada says as Leon watches her walk back towards what he assumed was her entry point was located.

As her form disappears into the black of night Leon lets out a deep breath with a slight shake of his head; his limbs heavy from the strain of the stress he carried in them.

“Goodbye, Ada.”

———————————————————--------------------------

It was nearly four in the morning when Leon pulled into his garage. Your vehicle was nowhere in his line of sight as he pulled up to his house. Not that he was surprised, your answer was just a maybe, and he didn’t want you to push yourself out of the realms of something you weren’t comfortable doing just yet. At least he let you know that you weren’t ignoring him completely and that was enough for the time being.

He shuts off the car as an exhausted sigh leaves him while his hand runs down his face. His head starts to gently pound as he pinches the bridge of his nose. The emotional rollercoaster he has been on starts to churn his stomach, reminding him why he didn’t bother with this stuff for so long in the first place. It hurt. Everywhere.

He closes the garage as he gets out of the car and makes his way inside. Placing his keys back on the hook, kicking off his shoes, and starting to remove his jacket he stops as he hears the muffled sound of a sitcom laugh track coming from the living room. His chest swells with hope as he quickly disregards his jacket and shoes and with large gentle strides he makes his way into the living room. His heart nearly stops when he sees you asleep on the couch.

Stopping in his tracks he watches the soft rise and fall of your chest, you were completely and utterly lost in what he hoped was a peaceful slumber. Your arms tucked close to your chest. Your hair fanned out over the couch cushion and the arm of the couch. He fought back how he wanted to run his hand through your hair. How tempting it looked, how he knew nothing brought you more comfort than the feeling of gentle fingers working their way through your hair. He wanted to do that for you, he wanted to comfort you. He wants to give you whatever your heart desires.

His breath hitches in his throat as he carefully sits on the edge of one of the couch cushions. His heart swells with so much love that it is overwhelming and for the first time within all of this his eyes start to glass over. Tears threatening to spill as a shaky hand slowly makes contact with the warmth of your scalp. His fingers intertwined with your hair as his thumb gingerly brushes the top of your head and a small breath of relief leaves him as he watches your body relax. He stifled a sob with a scoff as a smile found his face while he fixed his gaze on you. The person he holds the most dear. The person he would do whatever it took to just have by his side.

A craving to show you the utmost love and affection, a craving to care for you so much deeper than what the two of you already had. He hoped with everything that you wanted more. That the ghost of your past hadn’t swallowed you up. That you would choose him.

He finally sniffs, the sound of distress pulling you from sleep as your eyes open and find his piercing blue ones glassy with tears. You move to sit up as even in your groggy state your arms wrap around him to comfort him.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” You coo as your torso presses against him while one hand rubs his back and the other makes its way into his hair as you rest your chin in the crook of his neck. “It’s okay.” You soothe while Leon takes in a strangled breath his arms wrapping tightly around you as he pulls you into his lap.

“You came.” He utters, his voice breaking slightly.

“You called.” You answer softly.

Leon’s grip on you tightens as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, fresh hot thick tears starting to roll down his face. You gently mumble sweet reassurances as you rub his back, allowing him to cry, allowing him to let go of all the shit he has been holding onto. The fight. The end. The struggle. He’s letting go of all of it as he keeps a firm hold on you, clinging to you as if his life depended on it.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed anything and I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you for- for being with them. I- I shouldn’t have yelled. I should have told you how I felt. I should have-.” He chokes out his apology, the saltiness of his tears finding the pallet of his tongue.

“Shh, Leon, it’s okay.” You coo rubbing his back, “Don’t force yourself to speak when you aren’t ready. Take your time.” He fists the soft fabric of your shirt as he wonders what he ever did to know the comfort of your patience.

As Leon begins to calm down his grip on you loosens, his breathing returning to normal as his chest no longer hitches with quiet sobs. You feel him start to relax and in turn your body loses its own stiffness. You continue to hold him to you, trailing the tips of your nails gingerly up and down a patch of his back. You had no idea where Leon had been, but whatever he did has obviously left him worse for wear.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask in a quiet whisper, concern ever present in your soft voice; and Leon can’t help himself.

“I love you.” He responds as he places a strong hand in between your shoulder blades keeping you pressed against him as he screws his eyes shut trying to commit this moment to memory. The feeling of your body pressed flush against his, the addictive pleasant scent of your perfume, the soft gentle flesh of your neck pressed against the scratch of his stubble.

“I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have yelled. I should have talked to you directly. I should have seen everything.” He says as he regretfully pries himself away from you to look at you fully, his hands moving to cup your cheeks and hold your face gently in the palms of his hands. He watches the gears in your head start to turn through sparkling big doe eyes and his heart starts to melt. The realization that he wasn’t the only one that needed improvements becoming ever present as he brushes the side of his thumb over your cheek.

“I love you and I am unbelievably sorry. Please, please, don’t shut me out.” He pleads as he studies your face, noting the way your bottom lip quivered ever so slightly.

You both sit there in silence as he admires the sad beauty that are your features in this moment. He allows you to just sit there and feel, and think, and breathe. With all the patience in the world he waits for you.

“I love you too.” You finally say quietly, the words falling from your lips in a hesitancy before you speak up again; but with more strength and convection, “I love you too.”

A soft wide smile finds Leon’s face as he brings your lips to his in a soft, but desperate and passionate kiss. The taste of your lips are so much sweeter without the bitter taste of alcohol on them. Your arms snaking their way around his neck as you kiss him back the way you wanted to the first time he kissed you. His hands move to your waist to pull you closer to him as his tongue ghosts over your bottom lip.

You part your lips allowing him access to explore the warmth of your mouth while crooking your head to the side as his tongue makes its way into your mouth. His tongue runs briefly over your teeth before it coils with your own and he sucks slightly causing a deep moan to reverberate from your chest and up your throat.

The sound causes a smirk to curl at the corner of his lips as he parts from you regardless of how badly he wants to continue. He couldn’t help it, he had to see you; and the sight was worth it. The blissful peace on your face as you opened your eyes to look at him was worth it. A smile plastered on his face as he noted the tiredness in your eyes, the slight bags underneath them, and his hand finds your cheek as he places a kiss on your forehead.

“Let's save the rest for tomorrow, okay? Let’s get you to bed.” He says as he moves to pick you up bridal style. He stands from the couch as your grip around him tightens as he makes his way to his bedroom.

“Leon.” You scold him slightly, but with no real seriousness to it.

“Tomorrow.” He assures with a little nod, a playful smirk on his face.

“Tomorrow.” You repeat with a little roll to your eyes.

95 notes · View notes

neo91502 · 23 days ago

Text

TSMG4 fic 💥💥💥 @tiredsmashbros

656 words

It was a normal day in the Showgrounds. Well, at least the most normal it can get considering a wacky cartoon man runs around the place with his loud and obnoxious yapping. As much as SMG4 did try to listen to the man’s constant rambles, it gets really hard to focus, especially when someone like him, SMG4, is sleep deprived.

Today was one of the days he managed to forget to go to SMG3’s cafe to get his usual coffee, the Cyanide Supreme. This also happened to be a day where TSB decided to bother him all hours of the day and night.

Especially when he’s trying to work on his computer to make memes.

SMG4 knew fully well that no matter what he’d do, this cartoon man would NOT leave him alone at all costs. As much as he wanted to work… it was a little, maybe just a little tempting to save his progress and let TSB just mess around with him like hair ruffling. Well, that did already happen, whether he liked it or not, with his blue hat sitting aside on the side of SMG4’s desk.

“Just give me a moment, alright? Then you can bother me all you want. I’m almost done with this,” SMG4 mumbled, hoping that the small plea would get TSB to lay off for long enough for him to finish his work.

As luck happens to be on SMG4’s side, it was surprising. He didn’t think it’d work, but now he realized he practically had just doomed himself to whatever the cartoony man wanted to do. Sure, he didn’t mind some affection like cuddles, but sometimes it was maybe a bit overload. Who could’ve thought TSB of all people would have so much damn strength sometimes? Okay… Scrap that thought, of course he would. However, he didn’t dwell on that any more.

Admittedly, SMG4 did turn around a few times to see what TSB was doing, but he quickly focused on his work to get it done sooner rather than later.

Unfortunately for SMG4, as soon as he was done with his work and the computer was booted off, he was almost immediately wrapped up by the lanky arms of the cartoony man and lifted up from his chair. His feet were left dangling above the ground while TSB was practically hugging him tightly while being carried over to his own bed.

“H-Hey now, don’t squeeze me to death!” SMG4 mustered his worries out, even if he knew it wasn’t going to happen either way.

“You’ll be fine!~” TSB cheerfully replied in a sing-song voice, a wide grin on his face. Something about the way his response to him, or just his overall upbeat expression, made him want to melt into the hug and sleep right then and there.

Despite that, the cartoony man flopped down on the bed with the blue clad meme guardian in his arms. SMG4 didn’t fully expect it, causing him to get a little dizzy for a moment, but got readjusted, quickly snuggling in close. To be fair, he is pretty exhausted. Hell, SMG4 didn’t even know what time it was!

None of that mattered right here and now though to them both. They both are cuddled up, with wide, joyous smiles on their faces.

To the two of them, this might just be the comfiest they have felt in the world right in that very moment. Or maybe just one of the times they’ve felt like that.

Besides that, they were cuddled up to one another, arms wrapped around the other and with the covers half-assed covering them… well, more like their legs. Neither of them had their hats on and TSB’s shades were with their hats. SMG4 settled comfortably against TSB’s chest while the cartoon man nuzzled his head into the top of SMG4’s head.

For the both of them, they fell asleep fairly quickly, comfortable in each other’s arms.

i was watching lego batman movie while doing that drawing... i was the anonymous ask about the fic teehee!!! i wanted to write tsmg4 for a while 😭 i wanted to write a little bit of fluff !!!

really short but i just wanted to do it !! :D

also funnily enough, this was the yaoi i was writing in vc last night at like 12-3 am 😭 i didnt want to spoil it and keep it a surprise!!

#art #neofart #my art #neo writes #neo fics #smg4 #smg4 fanart #smg4 fanfic #tsmg4 #tsb #tsb fanfic #smg4 oc #smg4 oc art #smg4 oc fanart #smg4 oc fanfic #oneshot #fanfic #gay #digital art

33 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

Text

Special Interest 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Saturday morning has you in a fog as you awake from a long night of vivid but forgotten dreams. You can't recall a single detail but you're thoroughly irritated by your nocturnal alternate reality. As you go down to claim your morning coffee and bid away the headache looming behind your brow, you're greeted by your parents' voices.

"Hmm, it's still doing that thing," your dad huffs, "strange."

"I told you, hon," your mom hums, "that nice man says it's um, you know, this U part... well... I can't remember exactly what he said."

You drag your feet into the kitchen and squint, "call a plumber, please. I'm done getting sprayed in the face."

"You got plumber money?" Your dad snips, "look, I can figure it out. I'll check the Facebook group."

"I'm sure all the boomers on their will know exactly how to lift the sink up by its bootstraps," you chuckle.

"Honey," your mother warns as your dad fumbles with his phone, jabbing at the screen with his index finger.

"I'm not a boomer," he grumbles as he shakes his head.

"Kidding," you fill the coffee carafe from the fridge filter to avoid further breaking the sink, "you know I'm teasing."

"Huh, says here I got the wrong part," your dad scratches his chin, "s'alright, I gotta grab a few things down at the depot anyway."

"How much are you going to spend before you get a professional in here?" Your mother challenges.

"It's eleven bucks, honey," your dad retorts with a sickly sweetness in his tone, "you wanna come with me?"

"Ugh, no, I'm making lemon meringue."

"Lemon mer-- why on earth are you going to all that trouble?"

"Because, Wilson, is it's a nice day and I want pie--"

Right, you're going to let the coffee brew as their marital discord does the same. Your parents tend to swing between head over heels and to the point of throwing hands on any day. A stormy but efficient relationship. It hardly lends credence to your mother's desperate pleas for you to snag a husband.

You go back upstairs and sit down at your work table. You open your planner and review your tasks for the day. Print some stickers, get some more work down on that infinity scarf, and maybe a nap if you make good progress. First, some music to drown out your parents as they go back and forth. Oh marriage does seem like a fairytale.

🧶

Your day wanes away to afternoon as you furrow your brow at your needles. You slouch uncomfortable against a pile of pillows against the corner of the wall. Your legs are bent atop the bed as a Youtube video plays on your phone and fills the void. The ombre effect looks good but this is sure tedious.

The fall grays to a winterly malaise. The only good thing about this time of year is the opportunity to wear turtlenecks and drown in hot drinks. Thinking of, you could use another. Maybe not coffee, but hot chocolate could scratch your itch. You loop the scarf over your neck as you jostle off the bed and keep up your looping.

You drift out of your room, crocheting and peeking up every few steps. You make a lazy descent and as you come to the first floor, you hear a commotion in the kitchen. Is your dad still at it? At this rate, you may as well just toss the sink out.

You enter, hoping that a hot chocolate isn't too much to ask. You stop short as you see two legs sticking out from beneath the sink. Those are not your father's boots. Did he really cave and hire a plumber?

Your mother hovers over the man, watching him as she leans on the open cupboard door.

"Thank you so much for doing this," she preens, "so lucky you could make it over. I swear, Wilson was going to drive himself to an aneurysm," she babbles. That's the thing, even service workers are a target for her ramblings. You pity the man stuck beneath the pipes, trapped with her yammering.

"Yeah, no problem, beats the troughs at the farm," the man responds lightly.

Suddenly you don't feel so bad for him as you recognise his voice. Your mother sure is an idiot. She invited this weirdo into her home? Your home? You can't say you're surprised, only deeply disappointed.

Before you can flee, your mother's attention is drawn by the unintentional click of your needles as they hit each other. Fuck.

"There you are, sweetie. Look who came to fix the sink," she chimes.

"Ugh," is all you give her as you commit to your mission. You poke the needles into the yarn and let them hang. You grab a packet of chocolate powder and mug. You keep your back to the duo as you flip on the kettle to boil.

"Hey," Cole says, his voice no longer muffled beneath the counter.

You don't acknowledge him. You mom harrumphs.

"Honey, don't be like that. He's a guest," she tuts, "oh, Cole," she continues on her tittering, "I made some pie, do you want to stay for dinner?"

You growl. This isn't going to work. You think you'll just starve in your room. You narrow your eyes at the kettle, willing the water to boil telepathically. It doesn't work.

"Well, I'd hate to impose," he says, grunting as he sets his feet and stands, his shadow rising over your shoulder. "Alright, so this is what we're going to do, start the dishwasher. It should create enough pressure to clear the block."

“Oh, you're so clever,” your mother praises. “And it's no problem, we have more than enough. It must be such a far way, I couldn't send you off just like that.”

“He probably has work to do on his farm. His home. Hanging out with the pigs or whatever,” you chirp.

“We don't have pigs. Got some chickens though. Oh, you should try some of the eggs,” Cole brushes by your insult, “maybe I could bring you some–”

“Probably not necessary, they sell eggs at the 7 Eleven.”

“Don't be so rude,” your mother snaps, “you're embarrassing yourself and me. If you're going to keep this up, you won't have any pie.”

“Fine with me,” you stick your tongue out.

“Look, hey,” Cole injects with his palms out, “I guess… I guess it's time to come clean. Camila, your daughter, she has a good reason to hate me. We've met before and I put my foot in my mouth and I think I embarrassed her so for that I apologise. I feel awful about it and I should've brought it up sooner.”

“Oh, wow, you–” your mom reels at the revelation, “well, I think then it's meant to be. The universe brought you back so you can apologise. Honey,” she turns to you, “can't you forgive him?”

You blink. The kettle clicks off as it boils. You glance between them. You turn your back to the kitchen and fill your mug, stirring with a spoon before tramping off without a word.

His act might work on her but you know he didn't find you to say sorry. He's too old to be wasting his time on you. He's pathetic.

#cole turner #dark cole turner #dark!cole turner #cole turner x reader #special interest #drabble #series #au #bookstore au #ghosted

107 notes · View notes