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prythianpages · 1 year ago

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Stuck On You | Part Three

cassian x reader | Cassian can't seem to forget about you since the night you met seven years ago. he thought he would never see you again but when he does, he's determined to make you his. this time for good.

“Don’t worry. She likes your butt and fancy hair. I know, I read her diary.”

[series masterlist]

A/N: I debated on splitting this into two parts since it came out longer than intended but I wanted to leave the bulk of the angst in this part. Some more scenes and quotes from Lilo & Stitch since I couldn't help myself. just one more part! I have a rough outline of it so I probably won't be able to finish it tonight but definitely by some time this coming week.

Warnings: angst, some fluff if you squint, mentions of violence/abuse

“Cassian said he would take me out for ice cream if you said yes!” Seraphine beamed, removing her boots at the foyer of your small, humble home. “I’ve never had ice cream before. Have you?”

“Sera,” you said with a sigh, concern laced into your tone over how attached she was to him. His month-long absence had given you a glimpse of the consequence of the effect he had on not just you but Seraphine as well and you didn’t want her to get hurt. She wouldn’t understand.

“I think it’s best if we don’t see Cas anymore.”

She turned to you with a pout. “He’s our friend! You have to say yes.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Seraphine’s lip quivered, her tired eyes brimming with tears.

You didn’t answer, couldn’t bring yourself to.

Instead, you threw your aching body onto the small loveseat in the living room. This week had taken both an emotional and physical toll on you, as you tirelessly kept Seraphine up to date with her studies, managed the tavern’s monthly expenses and wrestled with your inner turmoil concerning Cassian. The constant restlessness in Seraphine only added to the mountain of exhaustion, her unbridled excitement buzzing incessantly over everything.

You knew you should draw a bath for the both of you and then head to bed, considering your fatigue.

However, you were well aware of your little sister’s stubborn nature as it was one you also exhibited. It must run in the family. Once she was fixated on something, there was no distracting her and judging by the intensity of her little sister’s sobs, you braced yourself for a long and challenging night.

“You’re so mean!” She cried. “I hate you!”

“Please don’t be a pain tonight,” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You should just sell me and buy a rabbit instead!” Sara shouted at you with her finger pointed at you, referring to your empty threat of replacing her with a rabbit every time she misbehaved. You hadn’t brought it up in months, years even, and were surprised she remembered.

“At least a rabbit would behave better than you,” you muttered.

“Go ahead!” Seraphine exclaimed, making you wince at her sharp tone. You hoped your neighbors could not hear her, fearing what they’d do if they did. You heard her angry stomps as she made her way to her room. “Then you’ll be happy! It will be smarter than me too.”

“And quieter!”

“You’ll like it because it’s stinky like you!”

“Go to your room!”

“I’m already in my room!” Seraphine screamed as she opened her door just to slam it shut again, irritating you further.

You grabbed the nearest pillow and brought it to your face to muffle your scream.

Guilt began to settle as your initial anger faded away. You knew you had overreacted. For many years, it had just been you and the small family your mother had created. Neither you or Seraphine had made any friends in Ironcrest yet, unless you counted the friendly old male who you purchased spices and groceries from every Sunday.

Your small family of four had unexpectedly and significantly reduced to half, leaving just you and Seraphine. Of course, she was excited when Cassian came along. You’d deny it if asked but a part of you was excited too.

He was sweet and kind but your worries crept in about what it meant to allow him into your tightly-knit world. What if things didn’t work out between you? What if the burdens you carried were too much for him to bear? You couldn’t allow him in further when your sister was already so attached to him, unable to bear the thought of having her witness another loved one disappear from her life.

You had to end this, whatever it was that you and Cassian had and you had to end it soon. Before any further damage could be provoked.

Throughout your life, stability had been a luxury, and the haunting fear of attachment loomed over you. The constant uprooting had instilled a deep seated fear of getting close to people. Every bond you had forged was inevitably followed by a painful goodbye. The walls safeguarding your heart, constructed since childhood, grew higher and stronger with every move. You had hoped that your mother’s marriage would bring a lasting change, a nice and needed break from moving, and for a while, it had.

However, the universe had a cruel way of reminding you that stability was a luxury you couldn’t afford. You would’ve never expected your one night stand with Cassian would lead to something more–to this.

Cassian, with his unwavering determination, posed a threat to the walls you had carefully built around your heart. Love. It seemed like a beautiful risk but the fear of losing what was gained, overshadowed its allure for you. Your heart had never felt so heavy.

You took a deep breath before knocking on your sister’s door. The lack of response didn’t surprise you. She must still be upset. The soft glow of faelight seeping from beneath her door confirmed she was awake. Balancing the two mugs of hot cocoa in one arm, you opened the door and slipped inside.

Your stomach churned at the sight of your little sister, clutching the pegasus doll that Cassian had gifted her. Tears streaked her face as she gazed down solemnly.

“I brought you, your favorite. Hot cocoa,” you offered, hoping to bring a glimmer of cheer to her troubled expression.

“We’re a broken family, aren’t we?”

You frowned, setting the tray down on the nightstand, hesitating before answering. “Maybe but only a little…”

You settled yourself onto Seraphine’s bed, gently cradling her into your lap. “I’m sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you.”

“I like you better as a sister than a mother…” Seraphine sniffled.

“Yeah?” You tenderly brushed her long, dark hair away from her face in contemplation.

A pang tugged at your heart–the weight of becoming a mother figure pressed on your shoulders. As a sister, you also played a nurturing and protective role in Seraphine’s upbringing, offering support when it was needed. You were the one Seraphine would run to for comfort after your mother's scolding or being stern with her, but now you were the one that had to be stern. It was a struggle finding the delicate balance between fulfilling the motherly duties Seraphine needed and preserving the sibling bond that meant the world to you.

“And you like me better as a sister than a rabbit, right?”

“Oh, my sweet Sera.” You replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead, your arms wrapping around her smaller form with a gentle squeeze. “Of course I do! I would not make my special hot cocoa for just anyone. Only you.”

You handed one of the mugs to her, smiling fondly as she inhaled the rich aroma of the hot cocoa.

“Cassian says ice cream is like frozen milk,” she mused softly. “I wonder what hot cocoa would taste like frozen but then it would no longer be hot cocoa, right? We would have to come up with a new name for it but I don’t think I like the sound of frozen cocoa…”

Her innocent dilemma made you laugh, finding it utterly endearing. You wanted her worries to always be like this. Small and trivial.

“Perhaps we should leave the cocoa out to freeze and find out for ourselves? We can decide on a name then.”

The night air was chilling, the cold wind biting at your cheeks. You hugged your coat closer to you, sparing at glance at Seraphine to make sure she still had hers on and the scarf you had bought her was snug to keep her neck warm. You couldn’t help but giggle when you caught Cassian, who had been persistent on walking you home, was constantly blowing his hair out of his face.

“Did you lose all your hair ties?” You quipped, digging into the pocket of your pants and offering a hair tie to him to alleviate his struggle. He reluctantly took the elastic from you and tied his hair up into his usual bun. You noticed he wore it down more recently. “You can keep it, too.”

“I just wanted to let it loose, try something different.” He replied with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

You let out a small hum, stuffing your hands back into your pockets to keep them hidden and fell into a thoughtful silence once more. There was a knot in your stomach as you three neared your house.

Seraphine, who once again had chosen to skip ahead of you two, paused. She turned around with a knowing gleam in her eye. Her lips curled up and she opened her mouth to speak and if you hadn’t been occupied in the tempest of your thoughts, you wouldn’t have missed Cassian bringing his finger to his lips to keep her from exposing him.

“Fancy hair,” she giggled, despite his plea.

“What was that?” You said, turning your head toward your sister.

Both Seraphine and Cassian exchanged a look before turning to you, responding in unison:

“Nothing!”

Your eyes narrowed at the two in suspicion but you decided not to question it.

When you three finally reached your home, Cassian was surprised at your invitation to come inside. You had never invited him inside, always bidding your farewells at your door. He walked in, overwhelmed by the sweet and delightful scent. It smelled just like you. His eyes darted around the living area curiously, taking in all the small touches you incorporated to make this place feel like a warm and inviting home.

You instructed Seraphine to change and pick a book for you to read to her before bed. She politely said her goodbye and goodnight to Cassian, her movements slow as she was reluctant to follow your instructions. She had no desire to go to bed, not when Cassian was inside your home for the first time and you found the glare she sent you amusing.

Cassian was staring at the wilted and dead flowers resting in a small vase you had placed on the kitchen table, recognizing them as the ones he had gifted you so long ago. You never threw them away.

“Cassian.”

He loved the way you said his name. But it was different this time. He pulled his attention away from the kitchen table to look back at you. You leaned against the back of the loveseat in hesitation, your eyes revealing the weight of the decision you were about to make.

His throat tightened. “Yes?”

“I think it’s best if you stop coming here.” Your voice was laced with a vulnerability you hated and before Cassian could reply, you were speaking again. “I have to take care of my sister. I can’t risk her getting attached, more so than she already is and–and neither can I. We’ve lost so much already…”

A tear escaped your eye. You brushed it away with a trembling hand and then Cassian was bridging the distance between you both, his hand gently cupping your cheek and coaxing your gaze to his.

“Y/n,” he gently whispered. “You’re not going to lose me.”

“How can you say that? What if something happens and–”

“Please don’t push me away.”

“They call you the Lord of Bloodshed. You’re the commander of the High Lord’s armies. You made a name for yourself. And me? I am no one. I’m not worthy of love. Of you. You’ll soon realize it and grow tired of me–”

“Stop.” Cassian interrupted, bringing his other hand up to cup your face. His touch was both comforting and agonizing. “You are worthy of love and so much more and I want to prove it to you. There could be a room full of others but just like that night at the bonfire, I want you. I choose you.”

A heavy sigh escaped you as you gently removed his hands from your face. “But I can’t choose you. I have to choose Seraphine. I always will and right now, I can’t afford to have you both.”

The weight of your words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the responsibilities that anchored you, pulling you away from the love that beckoned.

Cassian grasped your hands in his, refusing to let them slip away. He did not want to let go of you. He understood the depth of your worries and the distress etched onto your features was breaking his heart. Why couldn’t you see yourself the way he saw you?

“I won’t force you into something that scares you, y/n.” He reassured you with a soft tone, his thumbs tracing soothing circles on the back of your hands. “I only want what’s best for you and Seraphine.”

Your lips trembled as you managed a small, strained smile.

“But you have to know that I love you–both of you. And this love, it’s not going anywhere. It’s a constant. A promise that will never waver.”

Cassian hadn’t returned and although you had asked for it, you couldn’t deny the lingering void in your heart. Seraphine sensed something was amiss when your voice wavered as you read her a bedtime story shortly after he left. Surprisingly, she refrained from asking about Cassian until a week later, almost as if she dreaded hearing the news that he wouldn’t be coming back.

When she finally did, tears welled in her eyes and you comforted her, convincing yourself it was for the best. However, the attempt of reassurance was futile and did little to ease your own pain.

Seraphine sighed, absentmindedly nudging the green vegetable on her plate. Scrumps was propped on the table, facing her with its stitched eyes. “At least I still have you,” she murmured to the pegasus plush. “You’ll never leave me, right?”

You frowned at the sight, feeling helpless and unsure how to alleviate your sister’s sorrow. This was precisely what you had tried to shield her from and it stung to realize it was too late. The damage had already been done.

Your attention was then pulled away as the creaking door to the tavern swung open. The room fell into silence. The dining Illyrians, previously immersed in their conversations, cast furtive glances toward the entrance.

In stepped the formidable son of Ironcrest’s war-lord, Kallon. Another Illyrian stepped in behind him but he was overshadowed by Kallon’s commanding presence. His gaze swept over the room, eyes like steel, assessing every face, every corner of the establishment. The tension in the air was palpable. He was looking for someone.

The regulars exchanged subtle nods, acknowledging the unspoken command to show respect. Whispers died down, and the muted sound of footsteps echoed as he advanced further into the tavern. The atmosphere had shifted from one of amiability to one of quiet deference, all eyes now focused on the figure who seemed to hold the establishment in the palm of his hand.

Your eyes were wide and you felt your body tense. You almost forgot how to breathe when Kallon’s cold eyes found yours. Seraphine, who sensed your distress, hopped off her chair and ran to you. Her tiny hand found yours and you guided her to stand behind you as Kallon continued his approach.

“Kallon,” you managed to find your voice, forcing a smile onto your face as you bowed your head in respect. “Should I prepare a table for you and your companion?”

“There’s no need.” He replied. He then turned his head at the eavesdropping Illryians, his gaze a silent warning to them. It wasn’t until the menacing look on his face prompted a couple to abandon their tables and those that remained to resume their conversations that he turned his attention back to you. “I came here to speak to you.”

“Me?” You echoed, your voice daring to break. The male behind Kallon remained quiet but you caught the way his gaze had flickered to your little sister, who hid behind your skirts. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“It has come to my attention that you have been fraternizing with an Illyrian male from Windhaven–” Kallon’s lips curled up in disgust and you felt Seraphine’s grip on you tighten. “– who just so happens to also be the High Lord’s general.”

“His name is Cassian.” Seraphine said, peeking out from behind you to scowl at Kallon.

Kallon looked toward your sister with a scoff. You pressed Seraphine into your hip to keep her from speaking again, worried of the consequences that may unfold. “He’s just a friend.”

Kallon’s attention drifted back to you, his gaze burning into you. “It seems you and I have different understandings of a friend because friends don’t kiss each other now do they?”

Your breath hitched. The two of you seldom interacted with each other. The last time you did was to report your mother’s murder. You cursed yourself at that moment, disappointed with yourself. You had failed to recognize that Cassian was well known throughout Illyria and to make it worse, he was from Windhaven. A rival camp to Ironcrest. You wondered how long Kallon had been following you and why he waited to confront you about it now, several months later since Cassian’s first visit.

“I–”

“It’s not a good look for you, y/n.” Kallon shook his head in disapproval with a small tut. “You of all people should know the consequences of whoring yourself out. Finding a husband will be troublesome for you and if you continue down this path, it is not a good example for your dear little sister.”

Your blood grew cold at the insult and you forced yourself to look up to keep the tears that were threatening to spill at bay. “I’m s–”

“It seems I may have failed you in some aspects.” Kallon interrupted, raising a finger at you in warning. He turned his attention to the empty glasses lined at the counter. “It is my job, after all, to help my father run this camp and it seems that I have overlooked you. Poor little y/n. You have been running this business and raising your sister all on your own.”

His fingers danced along the counter, a wicked gleam in his eyes. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the air, a sharp and crystalline shatter that reverberated through your bones and had Seraphine wincing into your body. You stared at the shattered glass at your feet, heart pounding through your ears.

“But it is not your place to do so.” Kallon reprimanded, his voice seething with a barely contained intensity. “It is his.”

You lifted your gaze.

The Illyrian male that had been quietly observant finally stepped forward. His features held a strange familiarity you couldn’t quite place. His eyes were cold and distant, lips pressed into a taut line.

“This is Aerik. Seraphine’s uncle.”

The wind was knocked out of you as the day you had dreaded finally came. Kallon had tracked down your step father’s only living relative– his brother, Aerik. The illusion you had so carefully crafted was unraveling and you found yourself at the precipice, forced to surrender the tavern and Seraphine, as if she were a mere object, to him.

But you knew the future that laid ahead for Seraphine if she stayed with her uncle. To you, she was your precious little sister, the one you had devoted your life to. To him, she was disposable, reduced to nothing but a bargaining tool once she was of marrying age.

She would not have the freedom to be a child as she did with you. She would be groomed to become a submissive wife and soon enough, her wings would be clipped. A tradition that had been banned but not enforced in Ironcrest. You could not allow any harm to fall to your sister, not when you were alive and capable of taking care of her. You wondered if this is how your mother had felt when she had you, cornered by the cruel world.

Kallon had left moments ago, along with the remaining customers, but now without a warning. A threat to harm you and Cassian in unimaginable ways if Kallon heard of Cassian meeting with you again.

"I don't give a fuck if he's the High Lord's pet. This is my father's camp and as his son, I have the authority to punish those who dare cross us as needed."

You had instructed Seraphine to go to the kitchens to help tidy up, leaving you and Aerik alone. Your eyebrows knitted together in an exasperated manner, bewildered by his demands.

You were a half breed–half high fae, half Illyrian–and a bastard. You were of little significance to Aerik–to any male in this damned camp, if you were being honest–and his plans with Seraphine did not include you. He wanted to take her away from you. For good.

He shifted, directing himself toward the kitchen and you were stopping him. Your hand gripped his arm desperately. “Seraphine needs me.”

Aerik tore his arm from your grasp with a snarl, using it to grip yours instead in retribution. His grip was hard and bruising and had you grimacing. “Is this what she needs?” He seethed, vividly gesturing to the tavern and lack of order in Seraphine’s life.

“It seems clear to me that you need her a lot more than she needs you.”

Cassian told himself he would give you space, as tortuous as it was for him. It’s what you had asked him for. He missed you dearly, often wondering if you were feeling that painful ache in your heart too. Despite the temptation, he resisted the urge to ask Azriel to check in on you with his shadows, not wanting to bring his friend into this tangled messy emotions he found himself grappling with. He couldn’t shake the desire to check up on you one more time, hoping that you might've change your mind.

A week later, when an overwhelming sense of unease gripped him, he set off for Ironcrest.

Cassian pushed open the door to the familiar tavern, his second home as Rhysand had teased him weeks ago. His eyes scanned the room in search of you like they always did, but he couldn't spot the one person he was hoping to see. His head was then turning to the table Seraphine often occupied only to find it empty.

An unsettling feeling knotted in his stomach when he couldn’t spot either of you, not missing the glare the male behind the counter had sent his way. It confirmed his suspicion that you weren’t here. Growing concerned, he decided to look for you, hoping you were safe and sound at home.

The journey was swift as it was one he knew by heart, his footsteps echoing through the quiet streets. When he reached your door, he hesitated for a moment. He could see the subtle glow of a light, coming from the small window that he knew faced your living room. He heard a squeak come from inside, recognizing it as Seraphine’s, and then he was knocking on your door.

There was a faint rustling inside and then the door creaked open. Cassian’s confusion set in as he initially saw no one at the other side. It wasn’t until he heard a sharp gasp that his gaze shifted downward, relief washing over him as he spotted Seraphine.

“Cas Cas!” Seraphine’s expression brightened, reveling in his presence and wrapping her tiny arms around him when he crouched down. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

“It’s good to see you too, munchkin.” Cassian smiled fondly, lifting her up with ease. He had missed her so much too.

“Sera, it’s time for your ba–Cassian?” You blinked, your grip on the towel in your hand tightening. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Can I come in?”

You looked past his shoulders worriedly and hesitantly nodded.

Cassian stepped into the foyer, crouching down to let Seraphine down. She grasped at his hand, guiding him to the living room where you stood with a forced smile on your face.

His worry deepened as he looked at you. "You weren’t at the tavern so I came to–to see you.”

To make sure you’re alright, is what he wanted to say but within seconds of seeing you, he knew you weren’t. Yet, you still attempted to dismiss his concern with a casual shrug. “My step-uncle is taking over the tavern now.”

“Oh yeah, Cas! I have a step-uncle now and he’s so nice to me. He bought me a new coloring book and so many toys! Do you want to see?”

Cassian realized that the glaring male from the tavern must be Seraphine’s step-uncle. He caught the way you bit the inside of your cheek at your little sister’s words, sensing something more beneath the surface.

“Sure.” He replied to Seraphine.

He waited until she disappeared down the hallway to take a step closer to you. “Is everything okay?”

A fleeting moment of hesitation flickered in your eyes that you quickly concealed, hoping he didn’t notice. But he did.

"I'm fine, really. Just a bit tired but thankfully Aerik offered to step in to help.”

Despite her attempt to reassure him, Cassian couldn't shake the feeling of unease. The lines of worry etched on his face as he spoke, "You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"

“Yeah,” you nodded your head nonchalantly at him.

“Y/n.” His voice was gentle but stern and he reached out for your hands.

His fingers accidentally brushed against the bruise Aerik had left the other night and you couldn’t mask the wince that followed. Cassian stilled, eyes glancing down and widening at the marking of your skin. “Y/n, Sweetheart–”

“It’s nothing.” You were pulling your arm from his grasp and out of his view, clasping them behind your back. “I tripped and hit my arm against the counter the other night.”

Cassian felt a burning feeling in his chest, his teeth clenching. Someone had touched you--hurt you.

“Does this have anything to do with the sudden appearance of Seraphine’s uncle?”

“No.” Your response was too quick to be anything but a lie. “Aerik has been kind to us. So kind that he offered to help me find a husband.”

More lies. Your fear and anxiety grew with every passing moment that Cassian remained in Ironcrest. Kallon’s menacing warnings echoed in your mind, threatening dire consequences for both you and Cassian, if he ever returned. Since he had gone to the tavern to look for you, you were sure Aerik had seen him. Cassian was not one to easily blend into the crowd with his imposing stature, striking features and seven siphons. It was only a matter of time before he would run off to go tell Kallon.

You knew Cassian was a formidable warrior from all the gossip and tales you'd heard at the bonfire. Still, you couldn't shake your fear. Cassian was in enemy territory. Vastly outnumbered. He had to leave.

Cassian shook his head in disbelief, swallowing hard. “What?”

Stepping forward, he closed the distance between you, his intense gaze burning into your skin as you actively avoided it. “Is this what you want?”

“It’s what is best,” you told him, sidestepping his question. “So please leave. I don’t want Aerik to get the wrong idea by having you here in the house alone with me.”

“Y/N–”

“I’m so sorry, Cassian.”

Walking away, you felt your heart begin to shatter, unaware that you had also shattered his. You wiped at your eyes once you knew you were out of his view, holding your breath as you moved down the hallway. Seraphine ran past you with her coloring book and you couldn’t bring yourself to stop her.

Seraphine paused, her chest heaving as she caught up with her breath. Her lips curved into a deep frown when she spotted Cassian heading for the door. “Cas Cas, where are you going? I was going to show you my coloring book…"

"I thought you were here to stay.”

Cassian couldn’t bring himself to answer her and as young as she was, she recognized the look in his eyes. It mirrored the expression on your face before you had to deliver bad news.

“You can leave again if you want.” Seraphine said as realization dawned on her. She casted her head down.

“I’ll remember you though. I remember everyone that leaves.”

[series masterlist]

A/N: don't hate me for breaking Cas's heart. I just live for the angst 🫠 if it's any consolation, this will have a happy ending 🩷

tagging: @kemillyfreitas

#cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #acotar cassian #acotar imagine #cassian imagine #cassian fluff #cassian angst #acotar fluff #acotor angst #acotar x reader #cassian acotar #soy

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wingedjellyfishflight · 1 year ago

Text

Abandoned

Ghost x König x Reader

CW: Smut, attempted non-con, blood, naked burly men, slight yandere vibes, but darling reader is on board with it

Working on behalf of a charity in the Middle East village you are working with is taken over by Al Qatala. One faction wants to kill you, and the other wants the improvements promised before they kill you. Many months of serious negotiations pass without an agreement being made. A US military squad moves through one day, shooting those who shoot them, seemingly on a random patrol.

You have been working on getting the placement for a new well pinpointed during this time, which was the goal of the charity on this trip, and now is one of the only reasons you still live. All of your possessions have been taken save for the shoes on your feet, soft-soled, so you can not escape, and your niqab which clothes you from head to toe, with a small opening for your eyes. Oh, and a single pair of underwear that has definitely seen better days.

A US soldier in desert camouflage near the edge of the village grabs you when you try to escape, and you think you are saved. Instead, he chuckles and decides he is going to have a little fun with a local woman, dragging you into a nearby empty house. He rips at your niqab, tearing your clothes from you blindly. It is only when your face is uncovered that he realizes that you are not local and not even Arabic, but an American like him.

As he continues to tear at your clothes, there is a noise at the door and a surprisingly warm, Scottish voice says, "Whatcha doin' in ere?" The soldier freezes, then glances next to him where his rifle is just out of easy reach. Before he can even fully make his decision, there is a metallic noise from next to you.

Another voice, cold and British this time, says, "Don't give it a thought." When he turns to face this second man, a set of hands gently clamps down on your arm and shoulder and pulls you backward against his body with a quiet but firm, "Danke." Your head barely reaches his shoulder, despite being tall for a woman at 5'10". In a smooth motion, he passes you over to the man at the door who wraps his arm and most of his body around you as he guides you to the alley between the houses. Just as you cross the threshold, you hear the US soldier say "Kilgore" in the most terrified voice you've ever heard.

There is screaming, yelling and some rather gruesome sounds of what, you don't quite know floating from the house. The man who led you to the alley tries to distract you, introducing himself as Soap. He asks you your name and other questions you struggle to answer, including why you are here in such a dangerous place alone before the other two men join you. You don't hear them walk over so much as you feel their gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck rising up in a primal warning.

When you look up from the much too interesting patch of dirt you have been focusing on, you see two tall men advancing, both wearing face coverings to rival the one you were wearing just minutes ago. The shorter man is wearing a neoprene type mask with a skull design. You snort internally at the idea of a man over six feet tall being considered short, but the sheer size of the mountain of a man next to him dwarfs even a six feet frame. Said mountain of a man has a curtain of fabric covering his face. It is black with two red streaks running down from the eyes. The former is introduced as Ghost by Soap. Ghost gives a brusque nod before turning away to speak into his radio.

The taller man you realize is the one who passed you off to Soap in the house. As you step closer to thank him, you realize that he is covered in blood and bits of...what is that?! You blanch, but with a smile pasted on that is much too toothy for the situation, you say, "Thank you, a-all of you." Soap is clearly weirded out by your deranged grin, and you say through clenched teeth, "Sorry. Tying not to puke." A look of understanding crosses his face. You glance back at the blood and viscera coated man, but he turns away from you. Soap says quietly, "That is König. Now, we need you to stay put so we can finish what we came to do and then you will evac with us." You nod, managing to control your stomach with enough swallowing.

The three men head out, each glancing back when they think the others aren't watching. As they leave, you find a small spot to hide and curl yourself up into the tightest ball you can to not be seen. It feels like hours of listening to guns firing, men yelling and screaming, and worrying if you will finally be able to escape when they finally return.

"Schatzi. Mein Schatzelinchen, where are you?" Surprisingly, it is König calling quietly for you as he and Soap enter the alley.

Soap exclaims, "Schatzi?! What the hell is a Schatzi? She has a name, you know." König shrugs.

"She is Schatzi to me. Ich liebe mein Schatzi," he replies in a possessive voice.

"Leibe? What does that mean? Lo-" Soap jumps in surprise as you wiggle out of the tiny hiding spot you found, and König blocks him from bringing his gun to bear, seemingly having already known you were hiding there and that it would surprise Soap.

"Come on, Schatzi. It is time to go." He holds out a hand, which you hesitantly take. It squelches in your grip, which you try very hard not to react to. The sound and feeling of it distracts you enough that you don't notice the loose sand near the edge of the road and trip into König's side. "Scheiße Schatzelinchen. None of that now. We must hurry to the evac." He picks you up and cradles you to his chest like a fragile bride. Soap eyes him hard, but hurries to keep up when König takes off in a sprint to join Ghost at the evac.

Ghost is waiting impatiently, and you see his eyes widen behind the mask as he sees you being carried, covered in blood. Soap calls out, "She just tripped. Blood is all from the big guy's 'work', and he decided we needed to leave like the hounds were after us wee hares." Ghost's shoulders drop as he lets out the breath he was holding. A chopper drops down just as they reach the evac point. You bury your face into the copper-scented vest of König's gear to keep the sand out of your eyes and try to ignore the sticky feeling it leaves on your forehead.

They throw themselves into the seats, and you end up between König and Ghost. They lean hard against you as the helicopter takes off, and you can feel your shoulders creaking. After a minute of this and the helicopter stabilizing the path it takes back to base, you lean back as far as you can in your seat. Ghost and König lean with you, still pinning you between them. They both yell in surprise when you jerk forward, and they knock heads together behind you. Soap belly laughs as they both sit up and rub their heads, glaring at each other over the top of you. Your quiet giggles go unnoticed by all three men.

Ghost apologizes quietly in your ear, and you immediately sober as a shiver passes through you and your cheeks redden. It seems an eternity later when you finally land at the base they are working out of. Soap takes the lead, and you walk between the two giants through the base until you reach a building off to the side. You freeze in the doorway when you realize it is a large communal locker room and showers full of men in various states of undress.

Ghost pushes you through the doorway and says, "Just follow Soap. We need to clean off this blood and...stuff." You hurry up to Soap and grab his vest, then shut your eyes tightly, trusting him to lead you safely. He brings you to a quiet and empty corner. You glance around carefully, looking for a washcloth or something only to slam your eyes shut and bring your hands to cover them when Soap starts to quickly undress in front of you. The sticky feeling your blood covered hands add to your face is even less pleasant than before.

Soap jokingly says, "What? Never seen a naked man before?" At the shake of your head, he goes quiet, and when you peek up at his face, his mouth is hanging open in surprise.

"No, this is...I've never..."

From behind you, you can hear the quiet shuffle of clothes, boots and gear being pulled off and Ghost drawls "Well, glad we can be your first and ruin you for all other men, but we still need to get the blood off." You glance back at them and get more than an eyeful of both Ghost and König before turning a deep shade of red. You realize that they have kept on their masks and guess that their anonymity must be deeply important to them.

"Fine, I'll just...umm..." You stare down at your torn and disgusting clothes. With a sigh, you shed your clothes quickly, piling your torn niqab, underwear, and shoes on a nearby bench.

"That is all you were wearing, mein Schatzi?" König sounds a bit out of breath behind his mask.

"Yeah, they took everything else months ago," you say shyly.

Soap tosses down a set of sandals for you to put on. "Well then, let's go rub me all over and clean up," Soap jokes, trying to break the tension. The looks of horror and disgust let him know that his joke hit perfectly, and his laugh echos through the room. You stare at your sandals, trying hard not to look at anyone as the three men walk nearly touching you in a bid to keep your nudity hidden behind their large bodies in the tight quarters of the communal shower. Soap finds a quiet corner and gently pushes you into it. "There's the soap, hun. Lather up really good, and then we will all rinse off together so nobody bothers us."

"Thanks." You shoot him a smile and quickly get to work rubbing the lather across your body. As you scrub down facing the wall, you try to get every bit of your body clean after nearly 9 months of bare minimum cleaning due to the village's rationing of water. You jump at the feel of hands on your back. Glancing back, you see König rubbing soap across your back, cautiously. You slowly relax as he gently scrubs the areas you can't reach. When he stops, you shyly gesture for him to turn around so you can scrub his back. The crinkle around his eyes that you can see makes you blush lightly, but you scrub his back anyway, returning the favor.

Ghoat seemingly pouts, at least you think so based on the glares he is sending König. You gesture for him to turn around after you finish with König. He groans as you gently rub the lather across his shoulders and back. You feel his breathy moans in your core, and when you look up, König is watching you like a hawk. You think he is mad, but he just says, "Good girl."

Soap has a baffled look on his face, looking between the three of you. After a minute, he just shrugs as if to say, none of my business and guides you to rinse off nearby, declining your offer to scrub his back. As you wash the soap out of your hair, you hear a man clear their throat nearby and open your eyes to see a stranger has worked his way near you while the men are focused on rinsing off quickly.

"Gonna scrub my back now?" He leers at your body unashamedly. You get your first view of an angry König as he claps a hand down hard on the man's shoulder and drags him backward.

"Leave my Schatzi alone, fotze." König moves to stand just inches from you as he rinses off. When he closes his eyes, you can't help yourself and take a peek down his body. A dark chuckle brings your eyes back up to meet his, and you quickly turn away to wash your hair again. The image of his cock is burned into your brain. You had no idea they could be that big and it was still soft. How big could did that thing get?

Clean but wet, your hair feels lighter than it has in months, and you've never been so happy to have a shower. Ghost turns you to face him, giving you a quick once over with his eyes. He uses his hand to scrub a few spots and splotches of blood off your face that you missed. Finally clean, you follow Soap back to the lockers with your eyes focused on his sandals. König and Ghost glare at anyone who dares to even glance at you.

Ghost hands you an oversized towel to use when you reach the lockers. It smells like manly and you wonder idly if that is what Ghost smells like all the time. Inspecting your clothes, you realize that none of them are fit to wear at this point. They are ripped, worn, and covered in blood, not to mention dirty from near continuous wear for nearly six months. You sigh and slip on your shoes, but just stare at the rest of the pile, trying to convince yourself to climb into them temporarily.

Suddenly, you are awash in a sea of clothing. As you struggle to get your head out, you feel calloused hands tugging it down your body. Your head pops out the top of the dress and you look down to realize it is a shirt. It smells like König, not Ghost, though you don't know how you are able to identify them so quickly. "Thank you, König," you say as you turn toward him, sliding your arms through and tugging a bit at the hem.

"You're welcome, Schatz." Your mouth goes slack as you realize he has literally given you the shirt off his back. His hairy chest and naked abs are on full display, a small trail of hair dipping down into his pants. You see a multitude of scars and a few fresher injuries, maybe even from earlier today. When you finally tear your gaze off his torso, he seems more than pleased to see you wrapped in his clothes from the look in his eyes.

The shirt barely reaches your thighs, but it's better than nothing, you decide. König disdainfully throws your old clothes into a trashcan, and you can't regret the loss at all. Ghost balls up your towel and throws it into the nearby laundry bin as you follow Soap back out, eyes trained studiously on his back. As the door shuts behind you, voices rise as many talk about what they had just witnessed, and one man checks the blossoming bruise on his shoulder, lamenting to his friends. They just shake their heads and tell him he was lucky to have gotten off so easy messing with a woman belonging to The One-Four-One.

Soap leads your group to a set of buildings seemingly on the opposite end of the camp. As you near the entrance, a frowning man in a hat waits. His voice booms out, "About time. (Y/n) with me." He walks off without checking to see if you're following. Ghost and König follow as well, while Soap heads off elsewhere within the building with his gear. Price stops at a door and turns to gesture you inside, stopping when he sees the two tall men flanking you still. "No, just (y/n). You can debrief later."

König grasps your hand with his free hand and staring into your eyes, says, "Goodbye for now, my Schatzi." You blush and croak out a goodbye as he walks away. Ghost shoots a glare at Price before turning to you and saying, "See you soon, Love." Price seems frustrated at how quickly you have charmed two of his best men and slams the door shut before gesturing at the open chair wordlessly. He stomps to the window behind his seat, looking out into the base. After several tense minutes, he turns back to you, gripping the top of the chair.

"Who are you, really?" Then, silence. As though he expects your answer to change now that you are alone. You stutter out your full name and his face changes from frustrated to angry. He slams his hands on the table. "I said, what is your real name?" You whimper and say it again, breaking eye contact in fear. He growls in frustration. "Then why the fuck can't I find you listed as missing?!"

You freeze in shock. "But... but... I've been a hostage in the village for... six months. I swear, I work for Blue Hope. I was here trying to get a well built for the village before they were taken over by those extremists."

"Well, Blue Hope has no record of you working there. Hell, whoever set up your cover must hate you because I can't find much of anything that says you ever existed at all." His glare somehow intensifies as you cower and try to think of a way to prove yourself with no I.D. or really anything connected to your life at all.

"I... I can prove I exist. I have an apartment that Blue Hope leased for me as part of my compensation in New York!" You sniffle a little as you try to keep your emotions in check, but it's difficult with your tendency to cry when you're frustrated.

He drawls, "they leased it, so how does that prove you exist?" He sits carefully in his chair, watching your every move carefully.

"I broke the rules of the lease and installed cameras. Bit of a nervous person, being away from there constantly, so I wanted to be able to check in, ya know."

"I don't, but how will cameras prove you are who you say you are?"

"I have two bachelor degrees on the wall of my office from Bandern University. They have my name and my majors and-and my minor. One is in environmental science with a specialty in water resources. The other is a political science degree with a specialty in international affairs. I'm still working on my Ph.D. in hydrology. That's why I'm working for Blue Hope instead of a private company. Nobody will hire a hydrologist without a Ph.D." Your voice strengthens as you explain your accomplishments; you're very proud of them for good reason. "I can show you on the computer. It's just a login on LinkUs to see the whole place."

"That doesn't seem secure at all for cameras that look into your whole house." He is definitely less angry and more surprised now. Captain Price navigates his computer to the website in question and puts in the login information you share.

"Yeah, I know. I turn them off when I'm home, but I know that isn't much of an excuse. I'm hardly ever there, so I wasn't as worried about it as I probably should be."

He frowns as the videos load on his screen. "Do you normally live... like a pig?" His try at diplomacy fails spectacularly as his shock slipped through. He turns the screen so you can see.

"Uhh... what?! My house isn't always the cleanest, but I don't live like a pig! Let me - oh god! What happened?!" The video feeds show nearly everything overturned and every drawer dumped on the floor. "I... I think I've been robbed! Umm... there. There is my office. If you click."

Price clears his throat and clicks on the office feed. "Ahh, does this? Yes, it does zoom. And there they are with (y/n) on them and the degrees you said. I'm still not 100% convinced, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt for now." He exits back to the main feed. "I need to investigate why you weren't-. Is anyone supposed to be there, a caretaker?"

"No. I should have hired someone." Your voice drops to a whisper as he clicks on the living room feed. "Wait, can you see someone?" Together, you listen to the man talking on the phone.

"Done. We haven't found it yet. I will have the full report once it is clean and empty tonight, but I don't think it is here." The strange man listens to the phone intently. "When will her body be recovered? We may need to intercept it, just in case she had it on her." He pauses. "Hopefully it was lost then because a local with computer access could be just as dangerous as an employee with the recording. Anyway, all traces will be gone..." The voice gets quieter as he walks away and out the front door.

You sit in shock. All traces gone. Does that mean what you think it means? Like, all of your things just gone forever? Price turns toward you with a careful look on his face. "I've never had someone exonerated so clearly and quickly before." His attempt at a joke falls flat.

"When." Your voice wavers, and you clear your throat trying to hold back tears. "When can I go home?"

Price looks decidedly uncomfortable now. "I don't know if you can, to be honest. I don't think it would be safe." The stress of the day seems to be finally catching up to you, and your sniffles turn into full-blown sobs. Price is now so uncomfortable that he can't sit still, jumping up and rushing to the door. "Where did those damn giants go, now? You!" he points at a man walking by.

"Me? Wait, is someone crying? Who's crying? I don't do crying." The soldier is quickly backing away quickly, looking nervous.

"Just go get König or maybe Ghost for fuck's sake, Roach!" Price snaps at him as he withdraws, missing the look of shock on Roach's face. He sidles along the wall toward his desk, watching you sob. The look of relief in his face when the door opens stops Ghost in his tracks. "Fix it, please," he says as he sits heavily in his chair, face in his hands.

Ghost stares at him, uncomprehendingly. "How the fuck did this happen? She was happy when we dropped her off." Despite the frustration in his tone, he moves to comfort you. He wraps his arms around you and picks you up. Ghost sits and settles you in his lap with your head tucked under his chin and shushes you gently. The glare he aims at Price is very short of comforting for him, though.

"Her home was wrecked and it sounds like it was the same company that stranded her here in the Middle East. She can't go home," Captain Price quickly shares.

Ghost perks up a bit, but keeps comforting you. Suddenly the door slams into the wall and König bursts into the room. "Mein Schatzi! Hands off her - she's mine!" He grabs you tightly and yanks you out of Ghost's embrace. Ghost tries to pull you tight to him, but there is truly no contest when König is running on adrenaline, so he lets you go. The giant of a man pulls you tight, tucking you against his chest, much like Ghost had and muttering in German about all the things he is going to do to Price in revenge.

You nestle against him, feeling safe encased in his arms and finally manage to rein in your sobs after a few minutes. König switches to muttering what he wants to do to comfort you, his fingers playing with the hem of the shirt. Your quickly spreading blush stops him in his tracks. "Uhh...sprichst du Deutsch?"

Your shy "ein bisschen" in response makes him groan and you're sure the skin around his eyes is red with embarrassment. When a throat clears behind you, he jumps and his entire body tenses, ready to fight.

"Sorry Schatzi. I shouldn't have wrestled you away from comfort." König gently sets you back in Ghost's lap. You grab his hand when he begins to back away toward the office door and settle yourself so you can keep hold of him. Ghost wraps an arm around your torso and pulls you flush to his chest before focusing on Captain Price again.

"Well, uhh, now that the crying is done. What are they looking for? What did you stumble on?" Price tries to get everyone back to the problem at hand with slim hopes that the other men will forget this.

"I overheard and recorded a confusing conversation working late one night just before I left the country. I guess it was way scarier and more important than I thought. I just remember thinking it was really weird for them to be talking about bribes when we are supposed to be an above the board charity. I only recorded it in case we get audited or something, because I didn't want to go down with them. I didn't want anyone to know what I'd heard, because I knew it would screw everything up for me and the village. I just wanted to get a well put in for them so they always had water."

Price rubbed his temples. "Did you hide it in your apartment or leave it in the village, then?"

"No, neither." He looks up surprised. "I put it in a cloud server...or three. I wanted it in case we got audited or something. It's easiest to listen to on my SoundLight storage because you don't have to download it."

Price's jaw has fully dropped by this point and the quiet "attagirl" growled in your ear makes your eyes glaze over and a shiver pass through you. You lean forward and pull it up on the computer, hitting play before settling back into Ghost's lap. The hard cock pressing against your ass surprises you, but Ghost's only reaction is a shaky exhale in your ear. König takes your hand again, making you glance up with a smile. He squeezes gently and you turn back to Price as he focuses on the recording.

The frown on the Captain's face intensifies as the recording plays and you feel Ghost's erection flag quickly. The tightening grip of König's hand just adds one more layer to the realization that what you overheard is much more serious than you could have ever guessed. When the recording ends, Price looks happier. "This is a serious matter. We will need to take action on this immediately and with this recording, we have some great leads."

You perk up. "Does that mean I can go home soon? Maybe save stuff from getting tossed?" Price shakes his head no.

"It isn't that easy. We have to thoroughly investigate before we commit to direct action or we might risk only getting part of the operation. It could easily be another six months before we have enough to act on. Even then, you might need a whole new identity. I'm truly sorry."

"What am I supposed to do then? I don't have anything to my name... or do I even have my name now? Do I go into Witness Protection somewhere?" The sharp "No" and "Nein" from both Ghost and König surprises you and gives you butterflies in your stomach.

"As your body guards have said, no. Witness Protection isn't safe enough. You'll stay here in our protection. I'll organize a room for you and we'll get some clothes together so you don't have to wear the cast offs of your dubiously generous friends." You're sure that König has a possessive grin under the curtain of his mask as he looks at the shirt you wear again.

"She won't need a room. We have that handled." Ghost slides you off his lap gently and guides you toward König and the door. "The clothes would be appreciated, though. And toiletries. And anything else, Love?" You shake your head, too overwhelmed to think very hard about what you need now that you truly have nothing, not even the niqab you wore for so long.

"I'm grateful for anything right now. I have more questions for later, but-" The yawn is sudden, but not unexpected. Price nods and waves you out without a word, already typing away on his report.

Ghost hangs back for a moment. "Debrief, Captain?"

"Tomorrow. This report can't wait." He pauses, having switched back to the camera feeds. "They found one of the cameras. We will have to keep this as quiet as a church mouse if you want her safe." Ghost nods and jogs to catch up.

König, unsurprisingly, has picked up (y/n) and is carrying her with her head tucked into his shoulder. Ghost sighs, not wanting to fight König verbally, but knows they need to hash out living quarters. "So, my room?" He tries lightly.

"Nein, no. She needs to be safe. That means she needs a room none will enter. That's my room."

"Nobody goes in my room" Ghost immediately protests, only to groan when he sees Soap walk out. Soap spots the three of you and takes off quickly in the opposite direction, having intended to sneak in and back out without being seen.

"See? No one dares to enter my room. She will be safe there when we go on missions. And...I would not mind you being in my rooms. Besides, Colonels get bigger rooms." The last was a bit of an unnecessary jab, but a good point all the same.

"Fine. Your room. Just no throwing fits if Johnny shows up at the door, alright."

"No promises." König's pace falters as your stomach growls. "Verdammt! We must take care of our Schatzi better. First crying alone and now starving." Ghost chuckles as König about faces and hurries to the kitchen. "We will find you a good meal before bed."

Upon entering, Ghost pushes the two of you toward the table and quickly puts together a meal. "Luckily, I just finished eating before Roach screamed at me to get my ass over there. Seems crying women can panic most of the crew." You blush and bite your lip.

"Sorry. It was just too much." König sits you on his knee and starts trying to feed you. "I can do it myself, I promise." You grab the fork from his hand and hunch over your food, eating quickly. The men sit watching you and talking quietly as you struggle not to shove the food into your mouth. The moans you make at the taste of the food have them adjusting their pants. "Oh, this is good! I haven't had anything this good in so long!"

With your plate emptied and your stomach full, you finally sit back. König pulls you close as he stands up. "Let's go to bed, Liebling. You can sleep off your feast." Ghost cleans up quickly and the three of you leave for König's room with a quick stop at the bathroom, which luckily was empty at this late hour. Ghost stops off in his room for a moment to grab some gear and half-jogs to catch the door to König's room before it shuts, locking it behind him.

After tucking you in the giant bed, König quickly strips off all of his clothes, leaving just his mask. "Some warning before you strip down, mate," jokes Ghost. König ignores him and climbs in on the far side of the bed, wrapping an arm around you. Ghost shakes his head before taking off all but his pants, carefully folding his shirt and trousers to sit on a chair near the door. He flips off the light, climbing into bed carefully to not jostle you. "Goodnight, Love...König."

"G'nigh Ghos, Köni," you mutter, falling toward sleep quickly.

"Schöne träume, Schatz, Geist." Arms wrap around you from each side and you curl up happily between them, feeling safer than you've ever felt before in the arms of two killing machines.

You wake up to a hand gently caressing your face. The skull on Ghost's mask is the first thing to come into focus. Even though you know it has inspired fear in the heart of many men, you smile, looking deep into his eyes. He seems surprised to see you smile, but you can tell somehow that he is smiling back. "Good morning, Ghost." Behind you, a hand tightens gently on your hip. "And König."

"Good morning" they say at the same time, making you giggle. You reach out and run a finger along the edge of Ghost's mask, catching the stubble there.

"Can I touch you?"

"Yes," he breathed out as you ghost your fingers down his throat. König's hand on your hip slides up to your ribs under your shirt. Your hand continues to slide down Ghost's body, running through the coarse hair on his chest, then back up and over his arm. Goosebumps rise up in the wake of your fingers and Ghost sighs as you caress each scar and imperfection on his skin.

"C-can I kiss you?"

"Yes, Love." He leans forward and you kiss him through his mask. Ghost gently turns you toward König who also kisses you through his mask. You run your fingers along the hem on it, making him tense.

"May I?" You feel even more nervous at his nod, but steel yourself and gently lift the fabric, sliding your fingers up his neck to his cheek. The column of his neck is revealed, then his chin and finally his lips. Leaning forward, you kiss him hesitantly, melting into it when he passionately kisses you back.

"Mein Schatzi," he groans as you pull away slowly, feeling flushed. "Would you like to touch me, Liebling?" He waggles his eyebrows down at you and smirks.

"Yes, sir," you cheekily answer back, kissing your way down his neck instead of using your fingers. The long, low moan he lets out goes straight to your core, encouraging you. Ghost presses his cock against your ass and runs his hand up to your breast, struggling against your shirt. He palms it gently. In response, you kiss König's nipple, giggling as his grip on your hip tightens, encouraging you.

You kiss every scar on König's chest and arms before he turns you back toward Ghost, again. Together, they tug off your shirt and it's only when they both press against you that you realize that Ghost has taken off his pants, leaving all of you completely naked, but for the masks. Ghost slides his mask up to kiss you deeply and König lifts your thigh up to nestle his cock against your core. The head rubs directly on your clit when he presses your leg back down. He smirks as you gasp into Ghost's mouth with his first thrust between your thighs.

Ghost pulls back and slides down your body, kissing his way to your breasts. "Is this ok, Love? We can stop if it's too much."

"It's so good."

"Good, that's a green light then. If you need us to slow down or pause, that is a yellow light. And -"

"Red means stop?"

"That's right, sugar. Red means stop and we will stop and take care of you, ok?"

"Yea, don't stop. Too good." He chuckled darkly as he went back to sucking and biting at your breasts. König kept thrusting against your channel, driving you closer to an edge you've rarely visited.

"Braves Mädchen," he murmured in your ear. "Good girl." You melted against him and he changed the angle of his thrust to press against your opening, stretching you wide as he gently pushed. He paused at your whimper, gently petting your hip and wrapping his other arm around your shoulders. He pulled you tight against him without choking you.

Ghost was quick with his "Color, sugar. Tell me what your color is."

"G-green. Mehr." Your casual slip into his mother language had König kissing your shoulder as he pushed in a little more at a time. Ghost kissed you again, sliding one hand down to tease your swollen clit and whispering encouragement in your ear. König carefully stretches his way deeper, trying to let you do most of the work as you move your hips back and forth in your excitement.

When König bottoms out deep within your core, you groan. Ghost smiles against your lips. "Did your greedy little cunt take that huge prick? Attagirl. You're goin' t'cum on that cock, aren't ya?"

You nod silently, whimpering as König pulls back then pushes in deep again, his thighs clapping against your ass. "König! Fuck!" You brace against Ghost as König moves faster and harder behind you, driving toward his own orgasm. "I'm gonna cum on you, König!" Your whines and whimpers are driving him on. "I'm cumming!" König bites down on your shoulder as he cums with you. His cock throbs deep inside your core with little thrusts that grind him deeper and deeper. Your squeal and clenching sleeve make him twitch harder inside you.

"Good girl. Good girl cumming all over me," he croons. After a few moments, he pulls out and turns you onto your back to catch your breath. Ghost rubs his hands against you, still worked up. You smile up at him and pull him close. He smirks back, kissing you deeply and spreading your legs to wedge his hips between them.

"Is this ok, Love? Color?"

"Yell-no, green. Green."

He stares at you for a moment, trying to gauge your honesty. You slip your hand down to wrap around his weeping cock and gently tug him toward you. "Want you to cum, too. It feels so good." He chuckles, but abides by your wish, pulling your legs to wrap around his waist as he enters you. König caresses your body and kisses your neck as you take Ghost's cock to the hilt in one sharp thrust. From this position all three of you are able to see the bulge in your stomach when he hilts himself into you. In response, your body clenches down on him to his delight.

"Sugar, not gonna last long with you milking me," he groans. You boldly reach down and push on his cock through your skin and clench at him again. His hips stutter, then he is pounding into you and pinching your clit as punishment. You squeal and König takes advantage of your distraction to gently bite your nipple then lave it with his tongue in revenge for your earlier cheekiness. The mischievous slant of his lips tells you that is just the beginning as they work in tandem to bring you over the edge again.

Ghost suddenly leans down and bites at your earlobe. "Who's fucking you so good the whole base can hear you? Say my name, (y/n). Tell everyone how well Simon is fucking you."

"S-Simon! You're gonna make me cum! Green? Fuck...Simon!" He thrusts harder, his balls slapping against your ass as he tries to make you cum before he does.

"That's it, (y/n). Tell everyone how good it feels."

"Cumming, Simon" you shout as you squirt cum all over his cock and abs. The sudden wetness shocks you and nearly ruins your orgasm, but the look of excitement on Ghost's face when he looks down keeps you cumming.

"Attagirl. Attagirl. Gonna cum in you, Love. Gonna fill you up!" The look of bliss on his face has you more convinced than anything he could have said that he isn't disgusted by what happened in any way. He collapses down onto you, still praising you as he tries to collect himself. You brush a kiss to his temple and shyly glance over at König to see the biggest grin on his face.

"Good girl. You are perfect." You blush and pull him over to kiss you, too. When he pulls back, he pulls his mask back into place and relaxes in a boneless heap with one arm possessively wrapped around your stomach. Ghost slides off of you, half asleep already. Your giggle wakes him back up some, but the best he can do is a cheeky grin as he cuddles into your side.

It feels like just moments later there is a pounding at the door. Both men are immediately on high alert with König pushing you toward Ghost and preparing to leap out of bed. It's only the voice on the other side of the door that makes him pause.

"Simon! Simon! Answer the damn door! I need to talk to you! C'mon Simon! I know you're in there!" Soap's voice has Ghost dropping his head back onto the pillow in frustration. "Come to the door already!"

"No fuckin peace around here. Can't even enjoy the afterglow." He huffs and puffs, debating on ignoring the jackass at the door.

"Answer the door. He's here for you and clearly not going to go away. I will cuddle our Schatzi while you are gone." König sounds almost mocking as he brushes kisses across your shoulder and you gently push Ghost out of bed.

"What in the bloody hell do you want, Johnny?!" Ghost yells as he answers the door dressed in only his mask.

Soap yelps and covers his eyes, "Jesus Ghost! Put on some pants!"

"No, you pulled me out of bed with (y/n). Now you gotta deal with the consequences, ya knob." Ghost stands with his feet planted shoulder-width apart in a mock parade rest. Soap refuses to look at him, choosing to stare at the ceiling instead and thrusts a canvas bag at Ghost.

"I was just bringing by some clothes for her. Price said she needed some that actually fit and that he better not see her bare-assed running around in just König's shirt again." Having passed on the message, Soap abruptly about faces and takes off down the hall.

"Thanks, mate," Ghost calls after him as he closes the door. You blush as he turns back and says, "Well, won't be needing these anytime soon, will we?" He tosses the bag of clothes onto the chair with his clothes and jumps back into bed, his crown jewels flopping about.

König chuckles and slides out of bed. "I need to piss. I'll be back." You sigh and hold his hand loosely, trying to keep hold as he walks over to his clothes without a trace of shame in his bare body.

"I'm losing all of my cuddles," you sigh. Ghost grumbles and tucks you into his side.

"I'm back, Love. We can cuddle all day." You smile and trace a line down his chest, lazily. He growls, "Or maybe skip the cuddles and go right back to making you scream my name."

"Hurry back, Köni. I already miss you," you call as he leaves. You catch a hint of a blush around his eyes as he carefully shuts the door. Turning back to Ghost, you smile lazily.

"You're getting awfully bold for someone who had never seen a cock before yesterday. I like it, Sugar." He kisses your forehead and relaxes against you. "I'm happy to share you with that giant if it means cuddles whenever we are home."

Your sigh catches him off guard. "I don't know how one of the worst days of my life led to this, but I don't think I've ever been happier and more contented than I am right now, Simon." Hearing his name, his real name, sends a shiver down his spine.

"When König comes back, let's get you dressed and have some breakfast... well, probably lunch by now, sugar." You can feel his grin under the mask and nod sleepily.

"Food sounds good. Very... good..." Your voice trails off as you start to drift to sleep. Ghost jostles you gently.

"Nuh uh, sleep after food or you'll wake up feeling sick with hunger. C'mon up ya get. König has a surprisingly too comfortable bed. And I honestly don't think I have ever seen one this big."

From the doorway, there is a deep laugh. "That's what she said. I abuse my body too much on missions to sleep on a shit bed, though. Let's see what Soap brought, hmm?" König dumps the clothes out onto the bed, quickly sorting out a set of clothes for you. "Here, (y/n). Put these on and I'll air out the bed a bit. Can't sleep on sweaty sheets." Ghost practically dragged you onto your feet before going to get his own clothes on.

"I hate these clothes," you mutter to yourself, grimacing as you pull the shirt over your head.

"Why's that, Schatzi? I hate to see you cover yourself up, but why would you hate them?" You blush, having not intended for them to hear your griping.

"They smell like other people. I don't like when my clothes smell weird," your petulant tone belies your deep discomfort with the perfume-scented clothes. "I have no idea where or who Soap got these from, but they smell... gross."

"Easily fixed, my Love." Ghost gently pulls you into a hug and rubs his body all over yours. "Your turn, König," Ghost says as he shuffles you into his arms. König happily rubs you with his hands, then picks you up and squeezing your ass, grinds you against himself.

"Yes, that is an easy fix," he says with a gleam in his eyes. You huff, but can't hide your grin as he sets you back on your feet. "Let's go eat, Liebling. Then, we can eat you later." You duck your head and groan, realizing how much König loves his double-entendres.

"Don't worry, Love. I won't use dirty innuendos to make you blush in front of everyone." Ghost whispering in your ear has you biting back a moan. "I'll just say dirty things in your ear so you blush and fidget over things no one else can hear and hope no one else overhears."

"Kommen, you two. Time to eat before we get called to attention again." You giggle at König's teasing and caught up to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. The smile you flash back to Ghost is full of promise. The sharp look in his eyes in return sends a shiver through you.

#konig x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost x könig x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost cod #könig x reader #size difference

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storiesofsvu · 1 year ago

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5 Nights Pt 4

*not my gif* Aaron Hotchner x reader warnings: semi public make out, dirty talk and lots of it, smut, v minor daddy kink. pt 4 is finally here! now y'all see why i couldn't have done all of these all together in one fic lol. I'm 99% sure this is the end but i lowkey am already thinking about extending it into a mini series of how things go when they get back to Quantico. so if y'all are interested in something like that, lmk!!

Love Aaron Hotchner? Don't miss out! Taglist here! Like what you read? Tip your writer!🩵

Aaron had had his eye on you all day, barely able to tear his gaze away from you as you worked through mountains of paperwork. His plan the night prior was to get himself off to the thought of finally fucking you and then actually fuck you when you got home from the bar. Problem being that the exhaustion was catching up with him, and you were out later than planned, he was dead to the world by the time you got back to the room. So now he was stuck for the third day in a row fighting off a constant hard on, desperately trying to think of anything but the memories of you trembling in his arms or on your knees with his cock buried between your lips.

He was on his way to get a fresh cup of coffee when he spotted you in an empty, off to the side copy room, using the machine to get extra copies of case files. You’d been running low on clothes, stuck in a skirt today, one that hugged tightly to your hips and ass, leaving little to the imagination, exposing your legs that Aaron wished were wrapped around his head again. He silently shut the door behind himself, you didn’t even realize he was in the room until his hand was on your waist, his breath hot on your ear as he husked into it.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to resist bending you over a desk and fucking you so hard you forget your own name?” His hips ground into your ass and you let out a gasp, his cock very apparent through the fabric, “fuck you so good all you can do is chant my name, let the whole building know just who it is that’s making you feel so fucking good. Make you scream so fucking loud when that tight little pussy squirts all over my cock, just love the way you make a mess sweetheart, love watching you fall apart on my cock. Wanna pull out of you, watch your juices drip down your thighs before I come all over your face, shove my dick into that mouth of yours, watch you choke on it.”

You instinctively ground back towards him, letting out a little moan at the way his dick twitched. Your hand shot out behind you, wrapping up to tangle in his short locks, “Hotch…” you practically moaned, complete putty in his hands. All thoughts of the work place and task at hand completely forgotten as his hands began to roam your body, groping at your chest, fingers pinching your nipples through your clothes. You let out a whimper, feeling yourself begin to flutter around nothing, the pulsing in your pussy simply begging to be filled with Aaron’s cock, wetness growing with each time he rutted against you.

“I’m gonna absolute ruin you.” He growled, a hand cupping at your pussy through your skirt, “no one’s ever going to be able to fuck you like I can.”

“Aaaron…” you groaned softly, tugging at his hair.

Within a second he had you whipped around, pinning you to the counter behind you and his lips were on yours. You let out a gasp into the kiss, your entire body tingling at the feeling of his kiss, the way his tongue easily slunk into your mouth, dominating the entire situation even more. He slotted himself between your legs, a hand sneaking between your ass and the counter, squeezing at your body as he hoisted you onto the ledge. You instantly wrapped your legs around his waist, your skirt bunching around your waist as he rolled his hips into you, his cock rubbing right against your clothed pussy and you moaned. His teeth sunk into your lip, pulling it before letting it snap back to your mouth, he considered leaving a hickey on your neck but couldn’t resist plunging back into another kiss, never wanting to have to surface again, eager to completely devour you.

It wasn’t until his phone blared through the room that the two of you came hurtling back to earth and to your senses, jolting apart breathlessly. Hotch hissed, adjusting himself in his pants with one hand while the other dug his phone out of his back pocket to answer, turning his back on you in an attempt to focus. Chest heaving, you slid off the counter, fixing your blouse and straightening your skirt while you tried to calm the fire shooting through your body. Thankful for the mirror in the corner you were able to wipe off the smudged lipstick, take a minute to make sure your hair wasn’t too messed up before you grabbed the copies and originals from the photocopier, vanishing from the room as Aaron swapped back into work mode.

The door to the hotel room was barely shut much less locked by the time Hotch was pouncing on you, hands shoving your blazer to the floor before roughly tugging at his tie while his tongue plunged into your mouth. Clothes trailed their way through the hotel room until your back hit the wall, a gasp escaping your lips at the cool temperature on your bare back. Aaron’s lips traced the column of your neck, pulling moans from you as he began to suck at your pulse point, groaning over the taste of your skin. Your hands slunk between your bodies, palming at him through his boxers, he was already hard, pre-cum staining the front of the fabric. His hands wound around your body, pulling you tight to him as he squeezed at your ass, fingers daring to sneak between your legs from behind, brushing at your clothed pussy.

“Aaron… please..” you whined, letting out a quiet yelp when his teeth sunk into your skin, determined to leave you with a mark that claimed you as his. Your fingers tugged at his boxers, yanking them as far down as you could while he was attached to your neck, “need your cock. Now.”

“Fuck..”

You felt him twitch in your hand when you said it, letting out a breathy moan as your hand wrapped around his length. Within the next second his hands were ripping your panties off, shreds of fabric falling to the floor and you let out a louder moan when his fingers ran through your pussy lips.

“God,” he groaned, “have you been this wet all day?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded, rutting your hips toward him in search of what you wanted, “need you. Fuck me, please sir.”

Aaron finally pulled himself away from the crook of your neck, wrapping a hand around his cock, running the tip of it through your folds, smearing your juices down his length. He watched the way you shivered at the contact, another whine leaving your lips before he spanked your clit with his cock and you gasped, body jolting off the wall toward him. With one swift thrust he was buried inside you, body tight against yours as he pinned you to the wall and you both let out satisfied moans.

“Fuck…” he grunted, “you feel so good.”

“Move…” you begged and that was all it took for Aaron to grab your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he began to pull almost all the way out before sinking all the way back in. “Oh god.”

Your head dropped back against the wall, each pump of his cock hit every inch of you that you needed, little whimpers and moans leaving your lips every time he pressed you into the wall. Your arms wound around his shoulders, bracing yourself up as he picked up the pace, burying his face into the crook of your neck again. You could feel the slick building between your legs, fully coating him, your pussy fluttering around his cock and he swore.

“Fuck…” he panted, “squeezing me so tight already.”

“Harder. Please.” Aaron stepped back from the wall for a moment, bracing his feet differently before thrusting even deeper into you, pinning you to the wall and you cried out in pleasure. “Oh fuck! Yes! Oh god…”

A shimmer of sweat was breaking out on your body as your hands clawed at his shoulders, nails leaving half circle indents on his skin. Each thrust of his hips crashed you into the wall, the pain worth it for the pleasure, his body rubbing against your clit, fire prickling under your skin as you clenched down around him.

“Feel good?” He asked, finally pulling his face from your neck, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as you nodded, whining out the best ‘yes’ you could in that moment. Your thighs began to squeeze around his waist, your breath hot on his lips as your chest heaved, eyes fluttering shut and he could feel your cunt dripping and pulsing around him, “you gonna come for me sweetheart?” A hand slid up your body, roughly cupping at your chest, finger and thumb pinching at one nipple and then the next, rolling the swollen buds between his fingertips. “Be a good girl and come all over daddy’s cock.” Aaron husked into your ear, biting at your earlobe and your eyes shot open at the use of the title.

“Oh god!” Your body trembled, pussy clenching down around his cock as your peak washed over you, juices dribbling out where your bodies were connected, drenching Aaron’s thighs as he continued to pound into you.

“That’s it.” He cooed, “that’s my good girl.” His arms wound around you tightly as he pulled you off the wall, cock still buried deep in your cunt as he carried you over to the bed. Your lips were peppering kisses to the side of his neck, teeth scraping gently at the skin as you let out little whimpers, pussy still fluttering around him as you shivered. Before he had a chance to put you down on the bed you let out a little whine,

“Wanna ride you.”

“Alright.” He chuckled, slipping out of you and dropping down onto the bed, bracing himself up against the headboard as you scrambled up the bed to straddle him. His eyes flicked behind you to the full length mirror, the one he’d fingered you in front of days ago, “wait.” You stalled in your movements, “turn around.”

“But—”

“Turn. Around.”

His finger twirled and once your eyes met his through the mirror you understood why, a small smirk on your lips as you straddled his hips, hand wrapping around his cock. You trailed it through your folds, rocking up and down as you pressed his cock against your pussy, grinding up and down his length as your juices made even more of a mess before you finally lined it up and sunk all the way down onto him.

“Fuck…” you moaned, biting your lip, “love your cock.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a wicked grin, hands coming up to rest on your waist, giving you a soft squeeze, “love it buried in that tight little cunt?” A hand spanked at the globe of your ass, “you like it when I fuck you nice and deep?”

“Mmhmm?” You nodded, gasping when he spanked you again.

��Well then why don’t you get goin’? Put on a nice little show for me, let’s see how gorgeous you are riding my cock.”

You didn’t need any more encouragement, bracing on your knees as you rose up until only the head of his cock was inside you, starting a steady rhythm bouncing in his lap. Aaron groaned at the sight of your tits bouncing in the mirror, the way your eyes fluttered shut and your hands roamed your body as you rode him. Each time you came down his cock fully disappeared into your pussy, throbbing and twitching inside you, feeling the way your walls were pulsing around him. He would never get enough of this sight and he knew it, trying to memorize every inch of your body through the mirror as he squeezed at your ass with one hand, the other on your waist, guiding you up and down. His hips suddenly thrust upward and you let out a little squeak in surprise, your eyes shooting open,

“Touch yourself.” He grunted, “want you to come again before I do.”

“Yes sir.” You nodded, keeping eye contact through the mirror as you sucked two fingers into your mouth while you continued to ride him. Your fingers left a trail of spit down your body as your hand sunk lower until they hit the swollen nub, pulsing and aching to be touched, “oh fuck…” your head dropped back as your began to rub your clit.

“Harder.” Hotch urged, hands gripping your waist tighter, “faster.”

You complied, pushing harder as your hand began to move faster, bouncing quicker in his lap and you began to pant, your chest heaving as pleasure prickled under your skin. All that could be heard in the room were the sounds of skin on skin, wet sounds squelching from your pussy as your moans got louder and louder. Hotch could feel your cunt squeezing down tighter and tighter with each thrust of his cock and he knew you weren’t far off.

“Oh god daddy…” You moaned.

“That’s it sweetheart.” He grunted, bracing a foot on the bed to thrust more powerfully into you, earning a loud moan from you as he did so, “show me how pretty you are when you come for me. Just for me.”

You let out a cry, your body surging forward as pleasure skyrocketed through you, your entire being shaking as you squirted all over his cock. You tensed up, hands braced against the bed in front of you before you screamed out a moan, a third orgasm coursing through you. You barely had time to feel the wetness dripping down your thighs before Aaron shoved you forward so he could get on his knees behind you, his cock never once leaving your drenched cunt and then he was fucking you into the mattress.

“God.. listen to you..” He moaned, “just fucking wrecked.” Your fingers clawed at the bedspread, pussy throbbing around him, clit harshly rubbing against the bedspread, whines leaving your lips as you began to reach the stage of overstimulation. “Just a little cock slut, aren’t you?”

“Only for… you…” you moaned out, voice muffled by the duvet.

“Good girl.” He grunted with a particularly deep thrust and your thighs shook, “gonna make me come.” He could feel his lower stomach tightening, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Give it to me.” You cried out, “want your cum.”

“Fuck.” He hissed, his hips faltering and then stilling buried deep inside your cunt, cum spurting into you, coating your walls.

“Oh god…” You groaned at the sensation, finally letting your body fully collapse into the mattress.

Panting, Aaron gently dropped over you, caging you into the bed, one hand softly soothing up and down your side as he pressed a series of kisses across your shoulders, “you okay?”

“Phenomenal.” You mumbled back, earning a chuckle from him before he kissed the back of your neck, gently slipping out of you to collapse on his back beside you on the bed. You rolled your head toward him, shifting slightly, happily sighing at the feel of the cum mixture leaking down your thighs, “but if it takes another fucking four days for that to happen again, I will not be impressed.”

“All I need is four minutes.” He smirked back at you, “besides, there’s plenty of ways I can get you off that don’t even need my cock.” You let out a yelp when his hand slid between your legs, softly fucking the cum back into your cunt, “see?” He asked with a near evil grin and you laughed, letting him wrap his free arm around your waist, lips meeting yours in a lazy kiss as he continued to toy with you.

You had to admit, even if you did have to wait another four days, you knew it would be completely worth it in the end.

__________________________

@alexusonfire @svushots @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @emobabeyy @daddy-heather-dunbar @mrs-ssa-hotch @hotchandspencearedilfs @mina2000alex @telepathay @darlingsfandom @ssamorganhotchner @hotchsdoormat @hopedoesntknow @thehauntingofbasingse @plaidbooks @the-hopeless-haze @niyizh @ababanana @tommyriddleobsessed @supercriminalbean @hotchs-bitch @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @emlynblack @ivyflowers13 @ratsnestinmyhair @silversprings-mp3 @originalbrunettecharacter @elz-artzzz @ssaaaronhotchnerr @itsrainingreid @speedynana

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #hotch x reader #hotch #agent hotchner #agent hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic

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strawbbseason · 1 year ago

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‼️ totk spoilers ahead (post-crisis at hyrule castle quest and tears of the dragon)‼️

so like of course link doesn't actually fall for any of the fake zelda bullshit that ganondorf and the yiga clan try and pull off right? their impressions of her are terrible and he knows its not her of course

so why do they think he fell for it? why does ganondorf believe he's lead link right into his trap with his poorly designed puppet? i think it's more than just link humoring them, there is something in his expression that makes them think he's so gullible

i think it's desperation.

link knows its not her -- of course it's not! her voice is all wrong, her expressions, even her general aura. he's spent the last probably 5 years never leaving her side, he could pick his zelda out of a thousand perfect imitations every time, but. he thinks he'll never see her again. even before watching the flashback where she commits the forbidden act of losing yourself forever, he feels it in his bones. his zelda is gone.

so when he hears that she's been captured by the yiga clan near dueling peaks he goes, because he needs to see her. it doesn't matter that she's not real, he is seeing her with his own eyes and not through a memory and it could be the last. he just looks at not-his-zelda for a moment and looks so desperate. then he heaves a big sigh and sends a few yiga soldiers back to their master.

then he sees her while working with the sages and the first time, maybe twice or three times, he sees her strange clothes and thinks it's actually her and every fiber of his being is screaming run to her but he's rooted to the spot just staring with wide eyes and open mouth because she's turned away from him, she's walking away -- and then at the peak of death mountain she disappears into the volcano and a beast is released in her wake and he knows its not his zelda after all. and yet every time she appears after that he feels his heart clench and his breath catch and he just takes her in and he doesn't care if it's not real because any time he sees her could be the last.

so link chases chirps and warbles across hyrule because sure, armor that will allow him to climb up cliffs in the rain sounds great and all, but perhaps one of these rumors will come with a glimpse at his lost princess and that is the force that drives him. he chases her like a high and briefly he considers his health because he actually gets an adrenaline rush every time he hears her name and its maybe not the healthiest thing to be perpetuating but he doesn't care, he'll put himself in danger over and over again if it means seeing her golden hair and emerald eyes just one more time.

when purah points him to the castle link doesn't wait for her to finish, just sprints to the tower and launches himself into the air so he may catch her once again. when he gets there he hears a voice that sounds like his princess but the tone is all wrong of course, he knows. he chases her through the castle and cuts through the enemies she leaves for him every time. in the sanctum, ganondorf mocks link for being so foolish, for falling for his puppet so easily and being led right to his trap. the demon king misreads the expression on his face as disbelief, and link doesn't correct him. he doesn't say that of fucking course he knows its not his zelda, it was a weaker imitation than fucking beedle could do. he doesn't say that he's been chasing a puppet because he's desperate to see her just one more time, and maybe there is a small part of him that hopes that this time might be the one where she stays, where she looks at him with the same desperation and hugs him and tells him she's home.

when she disappears that time it's for good, and he waits until the sages leave before breaking down.

#I've been in the shower for like 45 minutes writing this #i haven't written tumblr meta in years but I'm so gone for totk link and his inner monologue #zelink #tears of the kingdom #totk #totk spoilers #tears of the kingdom spoilers #loz #botw #breath of the wild #this is pure word vomit and probably makes no sense but i just had to get it out

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halfway-happyyy · 1 year ago

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into gold III {rooster bradshaw}

synopsis: rooster bradshaw’s emotional baggage could fill a cargo container ten times over. he is the single father of a precocious and bubbly six-year-old, and despite his best efforts, has fallen head over heels for someone arguably more damaged than him- his daughter’s first grade teacher.

characters- bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw, frankie bradshaw, female ooc scout wallis (she/her pronouns)

word count- 3200+

or- the one where rooster can't cook, and lays everything out on the line for scout.

read part one and two

An aluminum wing catches a ray of flaming sunlight, rendering her momentarily blind. The moment passes and she catches sight of the plummeting aircraft expecting to see the words ‘LT Beau Wallis “Atlas”’ painted across the side, but what she sees instead is ‘LT Bradley Bradshaw “Rooster”’. A strangled scream tears at the tender flesh of her throat as she watches his FA/18 explode into the side of a mountain before he can safely eject from it. Another precious life snuffed out like a candle in the night. Another love lost forever. Her scream never materializes.

Scout Wallis jolts awake from her nightmare, her entire body covered in a slick sheen of perspiration. To steady her erratic breathing, she studies the movie posters that adorn the walls of Jake’s bedroom. Most of them are westerns; vintage, gun-toting shoot-em-ups that make her long for the simplicity of her grandfather’s cabin.

“Bad dream?”

Jake’s voice catches her off guard before she nods her head. He moves from his spot on the chair in the corner of the room to the bed, taking a seat beside her.

“Must have been out a little while,” She yawns. “Are you almost ready? What time did Rooster say to be over for dinner?”

Jake moves to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “Before we do anything, you and I have some unfinished business to attend to first, Wallis.” Scout suddenly feels the end of their time together looming close, like the ticking hands of an invisible clock. Silence settles a little too long between them before he finally sighs, “This isn’t going to work out between us, is it?”

And it breaks her heart a little bit because in every lifetime apart from this one, she can see herself with Jake Seresin.

She shakes her head, piteously. “I’m sorry, Jake.”

He lifts her hand from beneath his duvet and kisses the back of it gently. “No apologies, Wallis. Frankie’s crazy about you,” A sobering realization sets in behind those beautiful viridian eyes, a flash of something sorrowful passes through them and then it’s gone. Jake swallows hard and shrugs his shoulders. “Rooster is too.”

Scout watches him leave the room, wishing with a pang, that there were something she could do or say to make herself feel a different way, but if there was anything that losing Beau had taught her, it was the importance of letting go when the time came.

They meet on his front porch fifteen minutes later, both regarding each other with a thoughtful intensity. Jake’s the first to break the silence.

“I meant what I said the other night.”

Scout cocks her head in question. “What did you say?”

Jake sighs and squints into the waning daylight above. “That he’d take good care of you. He will take good care of you if you let him, Scout. And you deserve it.”

The inexplicable sting of looming tears pinches behind Scout’s eyes as she opens her arms for a hug which he reciprocates. They stand entwined for a couple of minutes, neither one of them wanting to part just yet.

Jake breaks away first and clears his throat. “Alright Wallis, get outta here.”

She steps down off the porch, walks the few steps toward her car, and then turns to face him. “I’ll see you around, Seresin.”

He grins. “Not if I see you first.”

Scout stands poised before Rooster��s front door. She considers setting the mason jar of shells down onto the frayed welcome mat and making a run for it, but no sooner has the thought crossed her mind that the door is opening, and Frankie is standing on the other side of it. She’s dressed head-to-toe like Jessie from Toy Story: cow print, a hat, boots, and all.

“Miss Wallis!” She grins and then excitedly follows that up with, “Papa they’re here!”

Scout hears a pot bang in the kitchen followed by a choice curse word and stifles the giggle that tickles the back of her throat.

“Well, let them in Frankie!”

She herds Scout into the living room and then peeks back out into the growing darkness of the late May evening.

“Where’s uncle Jake?”

Scout swallows hard; fumbles around for something appropriate to say when Rooster appears from out of the kitchen, his cheeks flushed.

“Hi.” He breathes out.

“Hi,” Scout's gaze drifts to the youngster. “You look spectacular Frankie. If I’d known, I’d have brought my Buzz Lightyear costume.”

Her eyes widen in delight. “You have a Buzz Lightyear costume?”

Scout nods.

Rooster rests a large hand atop Frankie’s head. “We’re going through a bit of a Toy Story phase at the moment.” He too, cranes around in search of Jake. “You by yourself?”

Scout nods slowly. “Yeah, Jake couldn’t make it.” Their eyes meet then, and somehow Rooster understands everything without a single word being uttered between them. “But I made sure to stop by to drop these off for you.” She hands Frankie the jar of shells and turns towards the door.

“You’re not staying?” Frankie asks.

Scout doesn’t miss the disappointment in the little girl’s tone. She turns back. “I don’t want to be a bother…”

Rooster shakes his head adamantly. “You could never be a bother. Besides, we’re having Frankie’s favorite.”

“Pancakes!” Frankie squeals and makes a beeline for the kitchen.

Scout sighs happily. "How on earth can I say no, then?"

“It wasn’t supposed to be pancakes,” Frankie licks a glob of maple syrup off her finger. It had been twenty minutes since they’d sat down, with Frankie being the first to break the silence. “But papa had an accident with the steak.”

Scout’s gaze travels to the charred piece of meat in a cast-iron pan at the back of the stove and giggles.

“Thanks Frank.” Rooster rolls his eyes and reaches over to pinch the apple of her cheek, playfully.

Scout swallows her bite and shrugs. “I tend to prefer breakfast for dinner over steak anyway.”

“Me too.” Frankie agrees.

While she’s in the washroom, Scout watches Rooster push the last of the bacon from his plate onto hers. “You full already?”

Rooster shakes his head no with a small smile. “But Frankie loves the stuff and that’s enough for me.”

Scout doesn’t allow herself much time to reflect on the things she looks for in a significant other, but watching Rooster sacrifice the last of his dinner to appease his girl, she can’t help but feel endeared to him more.

As soon as the eggs and bacon and pancakes have been devoured, Frankie turns to Rooster and asks if she can grab the ice cream.

“Why don’t we wait a little bit? Scout might be a bit full of dinner still.”

Frankie falters in confusion. “Your name is Scout?”

Rooster’s cheeks redden and he scrambles to explain himself, but Scout gives her head a soft shake.

“It’s simple Frankie. When you and I are at school together, you need to call me Miss Wallis because I am your teacher. But when we’re like this- or, if you see me at the beach,” She throws a wink Rooster’s way. “You can call me Scout. Does that make any sense?”

Doubt clouds her beautiful green eyes, but she nods her head regardless.

“And I would love you to grab the ice cream. My dessert tube is far from full.”

Rooster watches her head for the basement and then promptly apologizes.

Scout waves it off. “Not at all. It was bound to happen at some point. I’ve just found that it’s best to be as honest with them as you can- as is appropriate.”

Rooster watches her and she feels naked under his gaze but it’s a vulnerability that she doesn’t immediately shy away from. She reckons she could get used to it; likes how it feels akin to standing under a warm shower, or letting sunshine warm your frozen bones on a cold day.

“You do well with her.” He concedes after a while.

Scout allows herself thirty seconds to remember the seedling that had once grown in her belly and smiles. “She’s a wonder, Rooster. Truly.”

“Papa, can you help me please?”

“I’ll be right there sweetheart,” Rooster pushes himself back from the table with a happy sigh. “Frankie has helped prepare a very special dessert this evening. We’ll be right back.”

Scout takes this opportunity to fully drink in the beautiful space around her. The kitchen opens onto the living room which is all whitewash and navy-blue accents. A pair of sliding glass doors lead out onto a half wraparound porch, where a rope swing bench hangs from the second story awning. Open windows give way to the calming staccato of waves crashing against a shore nearby, and she decides then that her favorite part of the house (minus her two dinner companions) may just be its proximity to the ocean. It is entirely charming in its coziness. From her spot at the table, Scout can see that most of the wall space in the living room is hung with pictures Rooster collected during his time in the Navy, and of different stages of Frankie’s life. Her, as a fresh and endearingly wrinkly newborn, next to one that shows him and a toddler Frankie next to his beloved plane. Beside that picture is one of Frankie and Maverick at her kindergarten graduation. A warmth that had felt foreign to her for so long settles in next to her heart and refuses to budge.

“Are you ready Scout?” Frankie’s lilting voice, brimming with excitement, knocks her from her reverie and makes her smile.

“I’m ready, Frankie. Your dad said you worked extra hard to put this dessert together.”

Frankie, suddenly unusually shy, nods her head.

“Alright Frank, you grab the ice cream.” Rooster gestures to the rapidly melting tub behind him and carries a steaming dish of apple crumble to the kitchen table. He tops her plate with a heaping spoonful of the crumble and two healthy scoops of vanilla bean ice cream.

Scout takes a bite and lets her eyes fall shut, savoring the slightly tart taste of the warm apples on her tongue. “This is delicious, Frankie. You did a fantastic job.”

Frankie’s lips turn up into a toothy grin. “Thank you.”

They finish their dessert in silence, and when it’s over, Frankie tugs on the sleeve of Rooster’s t-shirt and leans up to whisper something in his ear.

Rooster frowns. “Why don’t you ask her yourself, Frank?”

Frankie turns to Scout, her expression bashful. “Scout, can I show you my seashell collection?”

Scout passes a napkin over her mouth and nods emphatically. “I would love that, Frankie. Lead the way.”

The rest of the house is just as charming as the main floor, and Frankie’s room is somehow exactly how Scout would have imagined it would be. A white, wrought-iron bed sits beneath a powder blue mosquito net, the top of it crowned with twinkling fairy lights. Behind the bed, a large whimsical rainbow takes up most of the far wall, and a sneaking suspicion tells her that Rooster had something to do with it. A lamp in the corner of her room emits a soft yellow glow, and an array of random wooden furniture takes up the rest of the quaint space. Frankie cradles her jar and points to a blue, paint-chipped shelf beside her bed.

“Mav made that shelf for me for my shells.”

Scout walks the short distance to the shelf in which she’s referring to and drops to her knees in awe. She’s sure Rooster had a hand in helping her organize everything, but even still, her collection is immaculate. There must be over a hundred shells on display- some ranging from the size of a quarter to some the size of a dessert plate.

“These are incredible, Frankie.”

The little girl carefully unscrews the lid on the jar and begins to add them to her collection, ranging in size and color.

“Thank you for helping me, Scout.”

Scout swallows back the sudden tide of emotion and smiles. “It was my pleasure, Frankie.”

“Do you have a favorite one?” she asks.

Scout sighs. They’re all so beautiful. After a while, she points to a small red starfish. “I think that one.”

Frankie grins. “That one’s my favorite too. It always reminds me of Patrick, from Spongebob.”

She’s not sure how long they spend huddled in front of the myriad of shells, but Scout reckons she could listen to Frankie talk about them for the rest of her days and never grow tired of it. A knock at her bedroom door pushes her from her daydream. She glances up to meet Rooster’s gaze, his head leans against the door frame.

“Hi.” Scout smiles.

“Hi you two.”

“Come look at the ones I added, Papa.” Frankie insists.

Rooster pushes himself from the frame and crosses the short distance to where they’re crouched down, planting his hands on her shoulders and leaning in to take stock of the priceless new additions. “You’ve outdone yourself this time, Frank.” He murmurs after a few moments. “But I regret to inform you that it’s time for bed.”

Scout doesn’t miss the exasperated groan that emanates from Frankie.

“Just a little longer, Papa?”

Rooster laughs. “It’s already past your bedtime, sweetheart.”

Scout rises from her crouched position and places a hand atop Frankie’s head. “Goodnight my friend. Thank you for showing me your wondrous collection.” A thought crosses her mind. “When we do our last show-and-tell before year end, why don’t you bring some of your shells in? I’m sure the other kids would love to see some of them.”

Frankie’s eyes light up. “I would love to!”

Scout grins. “It’s a deal, then. Goodnight Frankie- and sweet dreams.”

She wanders back downstairs, not entirely sure if she should stay. She figures the least she can do is wait to say goodbye to Rooster. A picture on the mantle above the fireplace catches her attention. It depicts a very young Maverick, with his arm wrapped around someone who bears an uncanny resemblance to Rooster. Scout studies the photo; the smiles of the young men speak volumes of excitement and adventure, of youth, and the ability to believe that they would be safe in anything they set their hearts on. Rooster joins her then.

“Is this your father?” she asks, though she reckons she already knows the answer.

Rooster nods before clearing his throat. “Yeah, that’s him.”

Scout smiles. “He looks like you.”

Rooster shifts from foot to foot, as if crafting his next words with care. “I never really thought so, but my mother was adamant that he and I were cut from the same cloth.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Would you like to stay for a drink?”

Scout wants to say no. She wants to thank him for dinner, and for the companionship that he and Frankie had gifted her this evening, but she just can’t shake the feeling that she’s supposed to be here.

“Yeah, I would.”

“Is there anything you’d like? I’ve got wine, beer, whisky…”

Scout shrugs. “I’m easy. Surprise me.”

Rooster smiles and nods his head. “Alright. I’ll fix us something if you want to find a seat on the porch.”

She does as she’s told and settles onto the swing, reveling in the sound of the ocean nearby. Rooster joins her a little while later, offering her a tumbler of whisky which she gladly accepts. He takes a seat at the opposite end of the bench and raises his drink to her.

“I’m sorry to hear about you and Jake.”

She snorts around the rim of her glass, takes a sip, and shakes her head. “No, you’re not.”

Rooster’s expression is suddenly sheepish. “You’re right. I’m not.”

They’re silent for a moment, Scout already feeling the whisky warming in her belly, causing her cheeks to flame and a flush to start at the base of her throat.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Rooster gazes at her, his expression unreadable, and nods his head. “Anything.”

“Frankie’s mother, what’s the story there?”

A puff of air escapes his parted lips as if he’d been holding it all in. “Not much of a story at all, really. She, uh, left when Frankie was about a year old.”

Scout can barely fathom it.

“Her and I were young when we met. We figured that marriage and children were the next obvious steps, so we took them together and when life got real, she hit the road.” Rooster takes a deep sip and continues. “She tries to get a hold of Frankie every now and then. Always spews some bullshit about coming to visit her, but she never manages to materialize. Fortunately, Frankie and I do alright on our own.”

“You do better than alright, Rooster.” Scout murmurs.

“How about you?” He asks. “You ever been married?”

Scout hesitates before nodding her head. “Yeah, actually. I was married for five years before he passed away.”

It sometimes still feels surreal to her when she says it out loud. That someone could be so close to her for so long and mean so much to her, and then gone at the blink of an eye, keeps her up most nights.

Rooster’s face drops. “I’m so sorry, Scout.”

She swallows back the building emotion and offers a half-shrug. “It’s one of the costs of flying fighter planes for a living, isn’t it?”

Rooster’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Your husband flew planes?”

“There’s a reason I told you I didn’t date men in the military.” she simpers.

They’re silent for a while, the only noise between them the calming sound of waves against sand.

“You’re lucky you live so close to the ocean.”

Rooster smiles, but there’s pain in the depths of his burnt-honey orbs. “My old man perished over the ocean in 1986, so I think I did it to feel closer to him.”

And Scout, maybe more than anyone, understands that completely.

“It’s fucked up, isn’t it?” He muses.

Scout shakes her head. “There’s no right or wrong way to grieve, Rooster. You do what you can.”

It is not lost on her how perfect this night has been, but she knows her time to go is fast approaching. She tips back the rest of her drink, favoring the way it scorches the delicate lining of her throat as it goes down and gets up from her spot on the swing.

“I shared more of myself with you tonight than I have with anyone in a long time.”

Rooster gazes at her. “I'm honored.”

“It’s time for me to go, though. I wanted to thank you for this evening, it was wonderful.”

“It was a pleasure to have you join us, truly.” Rooster follows her to the front door and leans on the frame for support. “I want to take you out, Scout.”

And there it is again. No bullshit. A man who tells her exactly what he wants, and it causes butterflies to take flight in her belly. She thinks of Beau and Jake, and the hell of it all is that she likes Rooster. God, she likes him so much. So she says the only thing that she can think of in that moment, and then regrets it immediately.

“I want to be friends, Rooster.”

And there’s so much more that she could say to him. I want to be friends to get to know you. I want to be friends before I scare you off. I want to be friends before we get in too deep. But the right words fizzle and fade before she can voice them.

Rooster walks her out to her car. He hasn’t said anything in the wake of her admission, and she wonders if she's already fucked everything up. But then he simply tells her, “I’ll take what I can get, Scout. Frankie and I aren’t going anywhere.”

And despite everything, she believes him.

#we love a slow burn #peep the home inspirations #im obsessed #rooster bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x reader #writing #into gold #top gun #tgm #miles teller

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blu3cl0v3rs · 1 year ago

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Summary: Kai and Nya run into someone unexpected.

Warnings: Kai considers murdering a child

Prompt: Day 16 - Time Travel

Extra: I had another direction I was gonna go with this, where Wu and Morro sat down and looked through a photo album, but then Season 7 and the time travel prompt hit me in the face and now this happened. Set when Kai, Nya, and Wu travel 40 years back in time during Season 7.

Nya and I rushed to make it in time. For Wu's sake. For the future's sake.

The plan was to pretend to be our parents, get the Time Twins back to the present- or future? Kai shook his head, there's no point in dwelling on specifics. They get the Reverse Blade, then get rid of the Time Twi-

About to run into someone, I yanked Nya close as I rocketed them upwards. Stifling a yell, Nya glared at me, and I sheepishly shrugged at her. We glanced down to see what I dragged us away from, only for our jaws to drop in unison.

Misako, a younger brunette version of her, pulled a kid down the steps.

But not just any kid.

A screaming, flailing, angry, child-sized, living Morro.

It was almost uncanny how similar this child and that evil-monster-danger ghost looked alike, until I reminded myself that they were the same person. He had black hair and the same unnatural green lock, although his skin wasn't tainted a sickly green, nor did he have those darker eye marks, and he seemed a bit smaller. But regardless, the wind master screamed.

"LET ME GO, I CAN HELP! MISAKO!" the boy repeated some variations of that same line constantly, swinging limbs making it difficult for the brunette woman to safely escort the child down.

It would be so easy to blast the kid off the mountainside, a sinister thought slithered through his mind, coiling around his consciousness. It would save Lloyd from the night terrors, the constant fear of possession, the way he looked at Cole. My sister gave me a hardened look, obviously knowing what I was thinking. Not surprised, we could never hide things from each other.

"He's just a kid," she whispered.

"So is Lloyd," I shot back.

"He hasn't done anything wrong yet."

"But he will."

"So?" Nya sighed. "I get it, Kai. But if we change this, the future won't be the same. It could destroy our future."

I pursed my lips, rage still simmered under my skin. That monster child hurts Lloyd in the future.

"Please," Morro teared up. "I can help! I'm strong enough, I can protect them."

My head snapped towards the duo. Misako had stopped trying to walk down the stairs, and Morro had stopped trying to escape, allowing her to set him down with firm hands on his shoulders.

"I know you want to help, and I know you're strong, but we would never be able to forgive ourselves if you got hurt, Morro." Misako reasoned, a soft glint in her eyes. "We all love you, and I need you to trust that the other's can handle this. Capiche?"

Morro glared at the stairs he stood on, as if he could bring down the Time Twins by taking down the mountain itself by his stare.

"...capiche," he mumbled, allowing himself to be brought down the rest of the flight of stairs by Misako's steady grip on his small calloused hands.

The anger seeped out of me. I took a focused breath, and landed us near the monastery.

"Let's finish what we came here to do."

#ninjago #morro #ninjago morro #morro ninjago #morro master of wind #morrotober #morro wu #morrotober 2023 #lego ninjago #kai ninjago #kai jiang #kai smith #ninjago kai #ninjago nya #nya ninjago #nya smith #nya jiang #lloyd and cole are mentioned

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vulpes-fennec · 1 year ago

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Don't Say Yes, Run Away Now

Summary: What if things took a different turn when Rhys shows up at Feyre and Tamlin's wedding? Warning: SMUT

Read on AO3

For @officialfeysandweek2023 Day 7 (Free Day)

***Rhys***

She liked to think about his mouth on her, especially on the smooth skin of her inner thighs. She tried to imagine what his broad hands would explore, how he would feel inside of her. Sometimes she pictured him moving slowly, other times her mind drifted towards something more fast-paced—urgent. Once, she considered taking charge, tracing her hand reverently across the skin of his wings and leaving him groaning with her tongue.

He didn’t seek her out specifically, didn’t feel right about this invasion of privacy, even though every inch of him was screaming, yearning to learn more. He wanted to be fully present with his mate, instead of peeking through the windows of her mind and watching her life from the sidelines.

But whenever she pleasured herself, her desires were so strong that they blew through his mental wards. He knew when she came, and was all too familiar with the knowledge that the following shame and guilt was when she realized it was, again, because of him.

***Feyre***

“Is it not a lady’s dream come true, to marry her true love?” Elain had sighed wistfully three years ago. Hunched over on the rickety stool, with a threadbare dress, shivering from the chill, Feyre had looked up from the rabbit she was skinning.

Her sister was prone to such romantic daydreams. Still, Feyre had conceded with a “perhaps,” her mind drifting to Isaac Hale’s brown-eyed gaze. The only boy in her life had not stirred such feelings from her heart, though she did feel jealousy from time to time. No, he could not be her true love.

I did not dream of marriage back then, because I did not love Isaac. Today I am marrying Tamlin…so why do I still feel the same way?

She was unrecognizable in the mirror. Her golden-blonde hair, curled into an elaborate pile of ringlets. Her lips, painted a dusty rose pink. The gauzy veil that would not hide her hesitations as she walked down the aisle. The Spring Court was known for its extravagance, but even this was too much. Her wedding gown was a mountain of puffed satin and tulle, with loops of ribbon and embroidered white flowers assaulting her eyes.

It’s because I don’t love Tamlin.

The conclusion came crashing down at the eleventh hour, despite weeks of attempting to fend it off. Roiling nausea threatened to send her to the bathroom. Feyre clenched her jaw and swallowed the pooling saliva, forcing herself to breathe. Wrong, wrong, everything was so wrong. In her distress, the edge of her glove had slipped down slightly, revealing the swirling black ink of her bargain tattoo with Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. Feyre’s mouth twitched in a barely suppressed growl as she tugged it back up. Bearing the mark of another male on her wedding day to another was…it was…

Rhysand’s violet eyes shining in the dim light of the dungeons. His feline grin driving her mad. The heat of his tongue along her cheek—

The door knocked, scattering Feyre’s memories.

“It’s time, Feyre.” Alis peeked into the room, regarding her with a carefully neutral expression. Feyre turned and nodded, forcing the corners of her mouth to turn upwards.

The opulently wall-papered halls of the manor seemed to close in on them as Feyre walked towards the lawn. Alis, thankfully, kept silent, as if she knew Feyre was trying to sort through her emotions before the ceremony.

We were never the same after Amarantha, she reflected. Feyre’s slippered feet grew heavier with each step, as if urging her to stall the wedding for as long as possible. Tamlin…his anger had grown deeper. His simple jealousy had twisted into suffocating overprotectiveness…he had become afraid to live. To let me live.

Night after night, waves of nausea and guilt colliding in the marble bathroom, tears streaking down her cheeks…all while the High Lord of Spring continued to sleep silently, in her bed.

Don’t be silly Feyre, he wasn’t sleeping, she told herself. He could hear everything. He couldn’t comfort me during my worst, because he couldn’t help himself, Feyre suddenly realized. Is this what eternity will be like? Spending forever with a husband who simultaneously cares too much and too little? Wrong, wrong, wrong.

The spring sunlight, once warm and gentle, was now piercingly bright. As if its rays proclaimed, “look! Look at this once-human wretch, happily ever after handed to her on a golden platter, and she doesn’t want it!” to the entire audience.

When Feyre finally stopped squinting her eyes, it became clear that Ianthe had done her worst. The lords and ladies of Spring, dressed in finery and beaming at her expectantly. A whole quartet, playing a lilting wedding song. A sky-high tiered cake, more than enough for all the party attendants and piled with candied flowers, was bordering on tasteless. Crimson rose petals were scattered down the white carpet, like droplets of blood. That bitch, Feyre seethed internally. She knows how much I hate the color red, yet out of all the colors of spring, she picks red. The blonde priestess was smiling at the dais, soft white hands clasped demurely in front of her robe. But Ianthe’s blue eyes were victoriously smug, as if she was waiting for Feyre to break down in front of all of Spring Court’s nobility.

Don’t give her what she wants, Feyre resolved to herself. She took a deep breath, clutched her bouquet of sickeningly sweet flowers a little tighter, and stepped forward. And again. And again. She mechanically flicked her eyes towards Tamlin every few seconds. Tall, strong, confident…for the first time in a while, the High Lord looked the part. But Feyre knew he was anything but that.

She’d seen too many dark circles, instances of frazzled hair, and tense workings of his jaw. The sighs at the dinner table, the haunted expressions during their garden strolls. Feyre couldn’t fathom calling the male standing before her her “husband”. The title left a bitter taste on Feyre’s tongue, the very sound of it making her cringe. A hollow feeling was deepening in her gut, a dizzying nausea pounding her head.

What if I don’t marry Tamlin? Up ahead, Tamlin offered her a small smile of encouragement. Her own smile felt more like a grimace.

If I don’t marry him, Ianthe would probably go after him, Feyre suspected. The cunning, power-grabbing priestess had been poisoning Tamlin’s mind with her whispers the last few months, and would probably send Spring Court into a downward spiral soon.

Is it too late? The expectant faces of wedding attendants said so. The crescendoing music, each step closer to the Tamlin, said so. The engagement ring, in all its symbolism of commitment, said so.

I haven’t said my vows yet, though. Feyre squeezed her bouquet even harder, her heart thudding faster than ever in her chest. The ring is just a rock. This event…no one will die if I don’t follow through. Not like what happened Under the Mountain, with the fae I had to kill.

Crimson droplets of blood, all over her knife, all over her hands.

I can’t marry him. I won’t marry him.

Feyre stopped in her tracks.

She didn’t think this moment through. Suddenly, everybody’s smiles seemed frozen, if not a little forced, like they were confused about what had just happened, but still trying to pretend everything was still alright.

Feyre was trembling now, a mixture of fear and heady adrenaline bubbling in her veins. Shit, shit, shit. Help! Feyre’s mind scrambled for something, anything to excuse herself. What do I do, what do I do? I need help—

A clap of thunder boomed, rattling her teeth and sending nobles screaming. A massive slash of darkness appeared out of thin air, as if a piece of the void was tearing the picturesque scene of Spring apart.

The beautiful male who stepped out of the rip was impeccably dressed in black, his hands tucked into his pants pockets. Night incarnate, with narrowed violet eyes, full lips curved in a smug smirk, brown skin that was rich and powerful. Rhysand.

***Rhys***

The clap of thunder to accompany the otherwise silent winnowing would be a nice effect, Rhys had decided, seconds before he heard Feyre’s panic down their mental bond. The mating bond, actually, he corrected himself.

He still couldn’t believe his mate was Feyre Archeron. And had spent the last few months fruitlessly trying to block her thoughts from his mind. He’d allowed himself a cheat day because she was getting married today—to Tamlin, of all males—and look at what happened. His mate needed him, even if she didn’t necessarily want him. So here he was.

Still, it felt good to rattle the Spring Court’s nobility whenever he could.

“Oh, is this bad timing?” he blinked nonchalantly as he strolled onto the sprawling lawn. Fae scrambled away from the darkness spreading after him, staining the verdant grass black.

There she was, his beautiful mate. Even if she wore a hideously puffy gown, her lovely face half-hidden by the veil, Feyre was the most beautiful female he had ever seen. She was trembling, not from fear, but from surprise. He forced his eyes away from her, glancing over at Tamlin with a blank stare.

“What are you doing here?” The High Lord of Spring snarled. “You do realize you are trespassing on another court, do you not?”

Rhys shrugged. “You do realize Feyre Archeron and I share a bargain, that stipulates her presence at my court for one week every month, do you not? I’ve come to collect her now…didn’t realize it was your wedding day.”

Tamlin’s lips pulled back, revealing gleaming white teeth, when he realized he was bound by fae law to allow Feyre to honor her bargain with his sworn enemy. “If you don’t bring her back, unharmed, in seven days—” Tamlin let the threat hang in the air.

“Oh, I promise to take very good care of her.” Rhys turned towards his mate, a secretive gleam of starlight twinkling in his violet eyes. Feyre was still staring at him, open-mouthed. “Perhaps I can even teach her a few things.”

His suggestive remark didn’t even land; Tamlin and the rest of the wedding party were too shocked to register it. Feyre’s blue-gray eyes turned towards Tamlin apprehensively. Rhys smugly noted that she didn’t object to the arrangement, for any bride in love with her fiance should have pitched a fit at wedding delays. He crossed the distance between them and wordlessly gripped her elbow, pulling her closer with a bored expression on his handsome face. His mate was stiff as a board, her heart galloping like a horse.

“Hold on,” Rhys murmured into Feyre’s ear, voice edged with amusement. She flinched again when he winnowed away, channeling the depths of his power to make the tremendous leap across Prythian, from Spring Court to Night Court.

Feyre wrenched herself away from his grip, gasping with shock as she took in the pale stone columns, the vaulted ceilings, the ornate furniture of the Moonstone Palace above the Hewn City. For a moment, she looked like she was about to vomit.

“What was that?” she gasped, her bridal veil askew.

“Never winnowed before?” Rhys teased, tucking his hands back into his pockets. He angled his head slightly, unabashedly checking out his mate. “Apologies, but you’ll get used to it.”

“Where am I?” Gods, she was so stunning, with those sharp blue eyes and flushed cheeks, that he almost forgot how to speak. She kept a good distance from him, her gloved hands balled into fists. A pity both their walls were still up, when all Rhys wanted was to let them down.

“My home. My court is ruled from the mountain below, but…you will find privacy from them here.”

“Like Under the Mountain?” Feyre’s lips pressed into a thin line, as if she was trying not to remember those harrowing three months. Rhys suppressed a shudder; those 50 years had wrought significant damage on him. But he was Fae. Feyre had been human, and endured it all. He was proud of her, though if he somehow found a way to tell her that, she would probably laugh at him.

“I’d say Amarantha’s version was a pathetic attempt to mimic my court,” Rhys picked a speck of lint from his lapel. “But enough about that female.”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“My, my. So many questions, Feyre darling.” Rhys chuckled. He walked around her, circling her slowly. Feyre’s eyes followed him with suspicion. “You needed help, and I obliged. I’m sure you were dying to know when I’d stop by to honor our bargain…Spring can get awfully frilly sometimes.”

She wrinkled her nose in the most adorable manner. “I don’t think about you at all, actually.”

“Is that so?” Rhys stepped closer, backing Feyre up against a lounge chair. His smile is infuriatingly beautiful, she was thinking. He’s so tall, too. And his lips…they’re close enough for me to kiss. Oh gods…

Rhys tipped her chin up delicately, noting the slight shiver that passed through her body at his touch. At the dusting of pink that bloomed over her cheekbones. “I can hear your thoughts, darling. And I think we both know just how often you’ve thought of me the last few months.”

The shock that filled her wide blue eyes was delicious. Rhys laughed, finally sauntering towards the other end of the hall, which ended in a veranda open to the stars. “I’m willing to accept your thanks at any time, you know,” he called to Feyre without looking back.

Did the wind-swept peaks of the Illyrian mountains appear inhospitable to her? Unwelcoming? Did she find the indigo night sky, with its faint tinge of pink on the horizon, just as beautiful as he did? Was the moonstone palace to her liking, despite her affronted expression?

His instincts sensed something hurtling towards him.

A slim half second later, a sharp, clunky object slammed into the back of his head. Pain erupted from the point of impact, leaving Rhys clutching his head with disbelief.

Feyre Archeron had thrown a shoe at him, and was wielding her remaining shoe like a javelin. Her expression was fierce, wild, and nearly had Rhys falling to his knees at how formidable she was.

“Taking off your shoes? I see you’re making yourself right at home,” Rhys purred.

“Fuck you,” Feyre snapped. She was more embarrassed than angry, for the crimson flush of her cheeks and averted gaze indicated shame rather than challenge.

“I didn’t pry that much darling. A High Lord has far more important things to do.” Rhys shrugged with a half-apology, for it was true. He only felt what she sent down the bond. “Be a good girl for me here, and I’ll keep your…fantasies a secret from Tamlin.” Feyre’s eyes flashed again, and she raised her other shoe higher. Rhys felt his lips pull back from his teeth. “I dare you.”

Feyre flung the shoe at him, but this time, Rhys was prepared. It dissolved into a fistful of glittering black dust.

“Fine.” Feyre gritted out. “I think you are attractive, so what?” She crossed her arms, half-glaring at him.

There are other things we can keep secret from Tamlin. Rhys cursed internally as he felt blood rushing to his cock. Did she really just say that? If that meant she wasn’t in love with Tamlin…Rhys shoved the delusions away, refusing to get his hopes up.

“So what?” Rhys echoed, feeling a little faint.

“All Fae are attractive. You’re not special, Rhysand.”

“Really,” he drawled lazily.

“You crashed my wedding, destroyed one of my shoes,” Feyre continued. “So I don’t feel like thanking you today.”

“While your appreciation is greatly desired, I am committed to ensuring my guests have a comfortable stay regardless.” Rhys gave her a sarcastic smile.

“I’d like to see you try,” she shot back, challenge flaring in her eyes. “I suppose I could use a bed after such an eventful day.”

“Oh? Is a bed all you need?” Rhys fought the urge to fidget with his jacket cuffs.

Feyre shrugged. “Some company in it would also be nice.” She gave him a coy smile.

He didn’t need to hear anything else. Rhys picked up the slipper Feyre had thrown at him, and crossed the span of the gilded room in several long strides. Threw his mate over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes without missing a beat. She stiffened at first, but then relaxed when his fingers stroked her lower back. The heat of Feyre’s skin through her dress, her scent of pear and lilac…Rhys felt dizzy at their proximity.

Her puffy wedding gown nearly obscured his view as he walked up the stairs. Rhys swore he’d destroy this damn thing, turn this ugly dress into dust the moment they had a bit of privacy.

***Feyre***

Like all things related to Rhysand, Feyre didn’t think she’d get this far. She was a little dazed as he carried her up the winding stairs, wondering how it was possible that she was getting ready for her wedding day in Spring Court just this morning. Rhysand laid her onto a massive bed with surprising gentleness, her body sinking into the puff of her gown.

“Bed. Now.”

Rhysand laughed softly, his chuckle deep as the night. “So demanding, Feyre darling.” But he obliged, shrugging off his black jacket and joining her on the bed. Before he could settle down, Feyre lurched upwards, bringing her mouth to his.

The searing heat of desire that burned down her body was a stark contrast to how soft and full his lips were. They were very nice lips to look at, Feyre thought, and even better lips to kiss. His initial freeze of surprise was quickly remedied when he deepened the kiss, his tongue running along the seam of her lips, desperate to taste her.

Rhys straddled her somehow, careful to keep the majority of his weight off her body, as he kissed her again, and again, and again. As if he couldn’t get enough of her. Feyre breathed in his scent of sea salt and citrus, marveling at how one kiss led to another without any effort. Each kiss was a little different, some were more delicate pecks at the corner of her mouth, others were more feral with the bite of his teeth against her lip.

“What are you going to do about the dress?” Feyre asked teasingly when they broke apart for air. “The female in your bed is wearing a wedding dress meant for another man.”

Rhysand’s violet eyes darkened with a murderous glint. But his voice was a casual drawl. “Destroy it, of course. Burn it, or turn it to dust, I don’t care.” His gaze traveled down her body. “I hope you didn’t choose this dress, darling, because it’s gods awful.”

“Of course not.” Feyre was disgruntled. “It’s Ianthe’s work, can’t you tell?”

“That explains it,” Rhysand grimaced. His hands worked against the pins in her hair, undoing them so he could pull off the veil. It was flung into some corner of the room. As he pulled the gloves off, he peppered her arm with kisses, giving special attention to the swirling tattoo on her left arm. Already, the white fabric was disintegrating under his touch.

“Don’t…mist me,” Feyre warned, a tinge of concern rising in her. Rhysand was the most powerful High Lord in Prythian; one careless flick and she’d be dead.

“I would never,” Rhysand crooned as he dissolved the entirety of her gown and underthings, leaving her utterly naked save for her necklace and earrings.

For a 500-year old High Lord, Rhysand was surprisingly lost for words as he stared down at her. Feyre supposed he hadn’t been with a female of his own free will in a long time, but still. There was something wondrous in the way he looked at her, as if she was simultaneously precious and awe-inspiring at the same time.

“Your clothes need to come off,” Feyre growled, realizing he was still dressed. She yanked him back down by his shirt. Buttons popped and scattered as she tore the front panels off, running her hands across the broad chest she’d been fantasizing about for months.

Rhysand shifted his hips against hers as he tugged his pants off, the hardness of his erection pressing against Feyre’s inner thigh. The air around them was heavy with mingled arousal, the soft light casting shadows across Rhysand’s muscled body. He looked like an ancient sculpture of a long-ago hero come to life.

“What do you want today, Feyre darling?” Rhysand rasped against her ear as he kissed the corner of her jaw.

“I thought you would know, Rhysand.” Her voice was breathy, high, as she tried not to moan from the get-go.

Rhysand chuckled against her neck. “It never hurts to ask, Feyre. And call me Rhys.” Rhys. It seemed so casual for her to refer to the High Lord of the Night Court as just Rhys. The sound of his name on her tongue felt just right, so delicious and so perfect.

Feyre gasped when his finger traced the curve of her breast, before cupping and squeezing it gently with his entire hand. Normally, she would close her eyes to imagine such a touch, but this was real life. This is real life, she thought with amazement.

And Rhysand—Rhys—was too beautiful to not look at.

Still straddling her lightly, his other hand experimentally slipping his fingers along her folds before rubbing her clit. She whimpered. A hot flush was surely materializing along her neck, and Feyre turned away with embarrassment.

“Eyes on me,” Rhys said, a hint of a plea in his voice. He brought his hand up to his mouth, tasting her slick with the expression of a cat who had caught the mouse.

“Rhys,” Feyre whispered, arcing her body upwards to press along his abdomen. “I need you.”

“Shhh, patience, pet,” Rhys gave her a casual grin before he kissed her again, more harshly this time around. His hips undulated slightly, bringing the tip of his cock against her with each push forward. He was teasing her, Feyre realized, dipping the head into her entrance without fully entering. If he was this big already—

“We’ll make it fit,” Rhys murmured in between kisses, his breath a little ragged now.

They groaned in unison when Rhys thrust for the first time. Feyre was trembling—every nerve in her body was lighting up—her mind scrambled up except for one thing: Rhys, Rhys, Rhys. Rhys himself had bowed his head against the crook of Feyre’s neck, his ebony black locks silky soft against her skin.

When he lifted his head up, there was starlight in his eyes.

“Feyre,” he whispered, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening right now.

“Rhys,” she responded, pushing her hips slightly against him to indicate she was ready. He nodded wordlessly, throat bobbing, and slowly pulled out.

Rhys was gentle as he slid back in, but Feyre still let out a shaky breath at the fullness between her legs. He returned his attention back to her breasts, gently fondling them as she liked and lavishing kisses on the sides. The tickle of his breath, hot glide of his tongue, and pressure of his fingers were a symphony that lifted her higher and higher with each touch. The rhythmic thrusts and slight grind of his hips against her clit only added to the coiling tension in her gut.

“Rhys—” Feyre moaned. “Oh gods, Rhys, please.”

“I love it when you say my name,” he purred, the vibrations of his voice smooth as silk. “You are exquisite.”

“Rhys!” Feyre cried, shaking as release seized control of her voice, her limbs, her mind. He had reduced her to a trembling, whimpering mess in the matter of minutes. Gods knew what else he had up his sleeve.

“You felt so good cumming on my cock,” Rhys groaned. She could feel her pussy still flexing involuntarily as he continued to thrust into her, more roughly and urgently before. The plat, plat, plat sound of skin-on-skin and the lubricated slap of his cock made Feyre’s fae instincts go wild. He nearly stilled when she moaned. “Too sensitive?” Rhys asked, stroking the curve of her waist.

“No, keep going,” Feyre bit out. She would ride it out, would let the male before her find his release too. “Fuck me harder, Rhys. Fuck me until I forget everything else. Please.”

Once a month, for a week. He was probably laughing at her in his head, at how easy she was. But she could escape her troubles with Spring and with Tamlin here.

Rhys’s answering thrust put all those musings out of her mind. This was perfection…she didn’t care what he thought of her anymore. Feyre canted her hips upwards, craving more of him. Rhys pounded into her with increasing intensity, hard, swift thrusts that had her gripping the sheets and rolling her eyes with pleasure.

“Shit, Feyre,” Rhys gasped. He said her name like a prayer. “You’re doing so well.”

She had fantasized him fucking her into the mattress several times, but none of those scenarios could have compared to the real life event. His chiseled, muscular form moving above her. The broad, callused hands gripping her waist for leverage. Those riveting violet eyes staring straight into her soul.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Feyre chanted, the words falling from her lips with each jolt backwards. There were stars on Rhys’s ceiling, she realized. A web of constellations crafted from fine diamonds, positioned against an indigo blue backdrop. It’s beautiful, she thought, feeling like she’d transcended her physical form.

His rhythm was becoming uneven, indicating he was close. With a loud groan that sounded like her name, Rhys pulled out, hot cum spurting onto the plane of her bare stomach. Feyre shivered at the sight, feeling a twinge of remorse that Rhys didn’t finish inside of her. She understood why he didn’t, but…still.

Feyre wrapped a hand around the nape of Rhys’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss, savoring the feel of his mouth. She wasn’t sure if he would oblige her again.

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” he murmured as he broke away. Feyre lay, spread-eagled on the soft bed, feeling the reverberations of their actions deep in her bones. Rhys returned with a warm towel, and he wiped away his release with exceeding tenderness.

The night sky, or perhaps Rhys himself, must have made Feyre emotional, for she found herself overcome with a contentment that made tears well up in her eyes. Somehow, she felt safe and secure, even though the Night Court was the farthest from home—home in the human lands—she had ever been. There was something raw about the way Rhys moved, from the way he looked at her, that made her feel as if he was an intimate friend.

“Would my darling guest like to do something else?” Rhys asked softly.

Feyre shook her head. “I would like to sleep,” she murmured. Indeed, the excitement of the day’s events were catching up to her, making the swaddle of Rhys’s silken sheets very appealing.

“Very well, then. I’ll let you be.” Rhys draped a soft blanket over her form, fingers brushing hair from her forehead. Stay, Feyre wanted to say. But the words would not come out.

She grabbed his wrist just as he was turning away. He was still naked, regarding her with solemn authority. “Thank you,” was all she could utter. Rhys nodded curtly, a small, genuine smile curving at his lips, before exiting the room.

#feysand #feysandweek2023 #feyre x rhysand #smut #acotar #acotar fanfic

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youlikefanficdontyousquidward · 1 year ago

Text

Teeth for hire

First/Prev/Epilogue

Summary: A final confrontation with your sire. Will back up be coming?

Warnings: Violence, bad touch, tooth rotting sweetness

It was cold in the mountains. Snow fell thick in the air making visibility impossible. Still Jack strained against his restraints to try find something. A landmark or road, something to help once he got you out of here. A rush of bats startled him back away from the window.

He was alone, had been since he'd be tossed into the stone cell by that other dark haired vampire. It was an old place like something out of a castle. Come to think of it, considering the stone walls and fact the window was an arrowslit it probably was a castle.

The cell was frosted, damp collected and crystalized by the altitude. Jack huddled in on himself, breathing hot air onto his hands in an effort to retain feeling in them. The breath came out in swirling clouds before dispersing into the gloom.

He'd seen you when he came to, carried limply in the arms of that bastardo Dracula. You'd looked awful a sheen of sweat over sickly skin. Vlad had met his eyes, running a long tongue over your face before Jack had been dragged off. He swore he'd tear that guys arms off first chance he got. Until then he had to try get himself free.

It took all day to loosen the frozen brick his chain was bolted too but by dusk the link broke free. It sent him tumbling back in surprise but he was no longer trapped. The chains still remained shackled to each wrist but now hung freely loosely him. Jack winded them up, wrapping the chain over his knuckles before heading to the cell door.

The wood was ancient and rotting. It gave in easily when he rammed his weight against it, clattering loudly to the stone floor. Jack cringed but even as the sound echoed he saw no one rushing for him.

Still alone he made his way down the stone corridors and into a more furnished part of the castle. The hall extended far into the darkness, any window there was had a heavy velvet curtain hanging from the high ceilings.

Jack cursed sniffing the air to try catch a hint of your scent. He'd been stupid to rush from Blade but when stayed rooted as your sire entered the building he couldn't help it. He'd torn from Blade's grip and leapt through the glass, not heeding the other mans protest. Then when he saw your sires hands on you he saw red.

You'd only spoke of Dracula once, though you'd not used his name. He'd been making you Pestinos after finding out you had quiet the sweet tooth.

"Sweet fangs!" You'd laughed from the kitchen table. Glowing in the light of dusk still cast through the window. You were wrapped in one of his hoodies, head resting on your knees as your strength returned. You'd watched him work the dough whilst Jack felt a blush tip his ears. Curiosity had eaten at him in the weeks since he'd met you and finally he just asked.

You'd sucked your teeth a second before meeting his eyes again. The sadness that overtook them went straight through his heart but you spoke. Told him about the vampire that broke into your home. About the giggling mad women who you came to pity in your new life but that chilled you to the bone that night. How you'd been toyed with then drained and left for dead. Only you didn't die, not in the traditional sense anyway.

It was a crime amongst their kind, now yours. To make a vampire and then leave them without any tutelage. Though the punishment would be your death as well as his. Still you'd made a deal with a clan and had been hunting him since. He'd apologized for asking when the first tears fell, holding you close as your scent overtook the sweet pastries.

There.

A draft blew through sending frigid air slicing against Jack's face and on that breeze your scent. It was faint but undeniably the black coffee and something sweet, floral almost but metallic too? You were hurt.

Jack raced towards it now, no heed for the sound he made nor who may be hiding in the shadows. He called your name, screaming it in the echoing halls as the scent of your blood drove a mad panic in his skull. A rush of anger and hot blood like he was turning.

A deep echoing laugh rattled around the grand hall Jack crashed into. Ahead you knelt on the floor, tears streaming down your cheeks as you screeched. Jack went to move before he doubled over a shard of white hot pain lancing his gut.

"Lost track of time dog?!" He heard Dracula's call echoing around the dark marble pillars. A thick curtain fell from a circular window towering above him. Jack strained his head, teeth pointed and gritting together as the light of the full moon spot lighted him in the black mirrored hall.

"You kill my guards, my brides, you have me running all over the globe from my own?! I think you owe me this sweetling." He spoke closer now. Jack struggled to his feet, ahead your sire crouched by your side. His hand gripping your throat to force your face to meet his.

You were bruised, clothes bloodied with eyes wide and body quaking. Your gaze never left Jack, ignoring your sire's blazing eyes.

"Last chance darling, me or what was it you said, every death?" He hissed. In a sudden push you jolted free of his grip, snapping your jaw at his hand. You connected biting the tips of his fingers off.

He howled rearing back and striking you hard with the bloodied stumps. The crimson streaked across your cheek and you spat his fingers back at him with a manic laugh. His lip curled and wild rage flickering behind his eyes before he calmed again.

"As you wish." He said though gritted teeth, leaping to the balcony above. Jack watched him slink into the shadows above though his laugh still echoed. He couldn't focus on him now, not when his trap had worked.

You were ahead, hands chained tight to a link on the marble floor. Trapped on your knees as you watched your Jack writhe under the moon light. It wasn't like back home where he was comfortable and safe. Here he was fighting it, trying desperately to pull himself away from you.

You struggled with the bindings again, forcing your thumb tighter into the shackle. If you could just...POP. The sound bounced off the walls before your dislocated thumb slipped through the first restraint.

Jack struggled harder to the doors. All the while his bones snapped and shifted. The wolf was close but so were you, he couldn't, not here, not with you and no cage. He was still meters away when the ancient oak creaked and the doors swung shut. With a last sorrowed howl Jack's mind left him.

You stilled at the melancholic sound. It sent your heart sinking deeper into despair. You slumped back down to your knees and raised your head to the wolf.

He was striking. Same wisps of white now layered in brown fur that covered his shoulders and most of his broader now bare torso. Claw tipped toes had torn through his shoes and now clacked against the stone. He moved slowly, low to the ground and growling quietly as he approached.

Bright amber eyes had over taken his hazel ones and wild brows shot up just a fraction. He was so close now, hot breath fanning over your face as you kept your eyes locked on his. One hand still dangled in the chain and the other ached dully at your side.

"Hey..." You spoke softly. His head tilted at your voice, jaw snapping closed. His ears flicked and his nose twitched before pinprick pupils expanded. You moved slow, letting your injured hand brush against his furred cheek. You'd done this through the bars before, the wolf pressing up and practically nuzzling against your hand. Though just as often he'd ignored you and once even lashed out at you.

This time his cheek rubbed your hand before his own clawed one reached to your cheek. He growled as his rough finger tips smeared the blood from your face and you smiled gently.

"NO!" Your sire shrieked, leaping down and slamming hard on the marble. The ground cracked around him as he screamed at you both. "Kill them you stupid animal!" He screeched, spittle flying from his thin lips.

You watched the wolves nose flare, catching the same scent from your face, his eyes hardening. Then he was twisting away, leaping, a clawed mass suddenly slamming into your sire and taking him to the ground. The two snapped and snarled, scrambling to get the upper hand. You wrenched your other hand free, snapping your thumb back into place painfully with a grunt.

Again you watched the door burst open, this time Blade strode in sword drawn with Michael and Ted on his heals. Your sire managed to kick Jack from him leaping back to you. He gathered you against him, silver stake slammed into your chest before you could so much as scream.

With a hard shove he sent you towards the group, his foot steps fleeing behind you. You never hit the ground, Eric catching you before you'd fully fallen. You gurgled, blood catching at your gullet as the odd cooling sensation passed over your body.

Ted paused over you, his eyes scrunching before he let of a savage roar and charged. You stared up at Eric, his signature sunglasses gone so you could look into his eyes.

"Took you long enough..." You breathed out, the motion digging the stake closer into your chest cavity. The pain returned and you winced.

"Well took a while to get Ted here." Blade smiled. "And Michael had a little trouble clearing the guards."

"Never your fault..." You huffed a light laugh but it died in your throat and you sputtered blood.

"My tracker on Jack worked perfectly." Blade said.

"You gonna finish me off?" You asked, the excruciating silver scraping just against your heart.

"I don't have a lot of friends, don't feel like loosing one." Eric responded pulling sharply and tossing the stake aside. You let out a choked screech before smiling weakly up at Eric.

"Not getting in on the fun?" You asked.

"Pretty sure your boys have this covered." He said. Blade shifted you in his arms, propping you up enough to see the werewolf tearing an arm from Dracula and striking him with it. Ted took his tumbling body in his claws and the man was alight and screaming in his acidic grip.

"I think your still going to have to stake him Blade?" You tried to laugh but it still hurt.

"I will... in a while." Eric smiled towards your friends. "Meantime Doctors got something for that." He gestured to the bleeding hole in your chest.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dawn broke and bright streams of sunlight filtered in past the torn curtains. Jack groaned pulling the cover over his head as he nestled a cool pillow tighter in his embrace. He curled around it, legs tangling in their own as he tucked his face in the crook of your neck, breathing deeply.

The night returned to him like a lightning strike and he bounded up onto his feet. Instantly he regretted the choice as the section of curtain draped over his naked body fell away. He hurriedly retrieved a handful before dropping back down to you, partially covered.

You smiled sleepily up at him, your hair a messy halo around your head. You were alive, not streaked with gore or torn to shreds by claws as he'd seen in countless nightmares. You were whole and well, apart from a bandage pocking out from your torn shirt. Jack sighed deeply flopping back down to lay facing you.

"What happened?" He asked. You propped yourself up on an arm, admiring his profile in the dim light. You followed the swell of his lips, the slope of his nose, his high cheekbones to his thick lashes scrunched closed against the morning.

"My sires plan to have a werewolf kill me kinda back fired." You laughed reaching a hand to rearrange Jack's bedhead. "Turns out this particular one is awful fond of me... which is good because I'm awful fond of him." You admitted glad for once you couldn't blush.

Jack's head snapped to yours, wide eyed and alert despite the exhaustion before a crooked grin broke out across beautiful face.

"And the man attached?" He whispered, his voice still gruff and rumbling. You leaned forward letting your lips brush gently against his. Jack closed his eyes returning the soft kiss a warm hand coming up to cup your cheek. It was gentle, sweet, all the care and unspoken things between you just bubbling to the surface. You deepened it for just a moment, the longing for him pulling you in closer before you broke away slowly. Jack's head followed for just a second before his eyes fluttered open and met yours.

"I could take him or leave him." You teased. Jack barked a laugh rolling onto his back.

"Oh you wound me, mi corazón!" He joked holding his hands to his heart before a slight shiver coursed over his skin.

"Hang on a sec, Eric brought your bag." You laughed as you wobbled to your feet. You were still aching from your wounds and you spied Jack's concerned face as you tossed clothing out for him.

"Eric came?" He asked. His memory of the previous night only extended as far as the doors locking the wolf in with you. Though now you stood dressed in his clothes all injuries cleaned.

"Oh yeah, brought Ted along too! Got to say he was rather impressed with the way you two took out an elder like that. Saved him getting all revengey for me getting staked." You rambled, trying to fill him in on the important details.

"You got staked!" Jack raised his voice, hoping into view as he got his trousers on. His hands gently took your shoulders as he turned you back to him and moved your top from the bandage.

"Woah! Buy me dinner first!" You forced a laugh but it died when you met his glassy eyes. "Only a little bit." You tried to reassure him.

Jack sighed and let his forehead come to rest against yours. You relaxed against his heat as his breathing calmed down again.

"Any other important things to tell me?" Jack mumbled. You took his cheeks in your palms, stroking a thumb against them. His hands held them to him.

"My sire is dead so I've repaid my debt to the clan and I'm no longer sentenced to death?" You cringed at his scrunching forehead. You could hear him mumbling, counting down in Spanish before taking a deep breath.

"Okay, excelente." He strained out before sighing deeply. "Let's get Ted and go home."

Ted took that moment to bust through the bedroom doors, scooping Jack up in his grasp and rumbling pleasantly. He spun him while you slumped against the door frame, a familiar fuzzy feeling in your chest.

"Hey! hey buddy, didn't give you too much trouble last night did I?" Jack asked as Ted returned him to the ground.

"Well had to all leave when you started attacking us for being near your y/n." Ted grumbled knocking a fist against Jack's shoulder. Heat rose in his face as you watched on bemused.

"Don't worry, don't think your new son in law was offended." Ted laughed. You joined in giggling, only half sure what Ted must have been telling him about the night.

"Oh funny is it!" He laughed over at you, keeping your smile you nodded. "A lot of laughs from the person I've saved twice now." He grinned.

"Hey! I was unarmed!" You frowned, crossing arms over your healing chest.

"Oh and at the bar?" Jack questioned with a smile coming up to lean beside you.

"I was playing bait! And did a pretty good job until Michael surprised me!" You said turning to him. Mock offense melted away as you stared up into his eyes and you leaned in to kiss him again. You pulled back when Ted groaned with a smirk.

"Next time you should see me with a sword."

#werewolf by night #my fics #jack russell x reader #teeth for hire

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coolgal5 · 7 months ago

Text

You’re the poet in my heart

Misty Day x Reader

warnings- Suicide attempt ngl, kinda sad but then happy, copious amounts of yearning

Also guys sorry I’m not hyperfixated on the hunger games anymore so I’m having trouble finding the motivation to write for lucky 😭🙏

———————————————————————

You were young when you met her, you remember the days running barefoot through through the woods and the excitement feeling in the pit of your stomach associated with her smile, she was like a breath of fresh air after being stuck inside all day. The days spent in bed with her singing softly to you, occasionally pressing a kiss to your knuckles or stroking your hair. A delightful change as you had always considered yourself rather plain. The smell of her lingering in the air when she wasn’t around, consuming your days.

You had always known she was special, although it never occurred to you to mind. Misty on her own meant so much to you that it wouldn’t bother you. Until members of the local church you both attended picked up on these abilities.

They had dragged her in the middle of the night, kicking and screaming from her bed. You had followed along, shouting and pleading with them not to hurt her, nobody listened. that’s when it hit you. You knew you were going to lose her. And as they strung her up to the wooden podium you screamed. You screamed and cried until all the air was gone from your lungs, you screamed until you couldn’t anymore and someone had to pull you away.

After that you felt empty, you couldn’t eat or sleep for weeks, like a part of you was missing. You sat at your desk, scribbling down letters, despite knowing she’d never read them you continued writing anything you felt. Mountains of paragraphs describing the details of how you missed her. You felt totally hopeless and like there was nothing you could do to feel normal again, not without Misty. You needed to clear your mind.

So you stepped out into the crisp night, feeling the cool breeze dancing along your skin as you walked to the creek bed through the woods. You stood on the bank and looked over. Noticing the water had risen due to the spring showers plaguing your town. Then an idea walked into your head.

—————————TW—————————————

You could jump.

So as you stripped off your cardigan, and peeled off your shoes and stepped off the bank, plunging into the cool heap beneath, the last thing running through your mind was Misty.

———————————————————————

However you awoke, smelling the Louisiana mud in the air, and feeling it deep through your fingers. You moved yourself, attempting to fill your lungs. Peering around, you had noticed you were in a garden of some sort. You didn’t recognize it but there was a tiny cabin near where you were. You attempted to get up however you stumbled a bit before eventually catching your balance. You made your way towards the cabin hearing the familiar sounds of Fleetwood Mac playing from the inside. You felt a sense of nostalgia connected to it, however in your state you found it unable to reach into the depths of your memory and pull out any memory you had associated with the music. You raised your hand and knocked at the door.

You were immediately greeted with a warm presence, wrapping you in her arms, and with the sight of her smile and the smell of her hair in the crook of your neck, the memories came flooding back to you.

Tears began to spill from your eyes onto her. She Leaned away from the embrace and began stroking your face with her cool, ringed fingers.

And you knew, that you had found what you had searched for.

#ahs coven #american horror story #misty day #fleetwood mac #lily rabe #ahs #coven #Misty day x reader

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a-constant-gay-panic · 2 years ago

Note

Hii! I love your work sm ong. I was wondering if you could do a richie tozier angst using prompts 7,9,12,15 from the angst/emotional section where they get into a fight or wtv and then the reader has like a near death experience from pennywise after? I feel like that would be nice bc I'm craving angst 😻

Last Fights

masterlist

pairing: richie tozier x gn!reader

summary: things between you and richie seem to be getting worse and you finally manage to confront him but it’s all in vain. none of it matters and it’s true what it said, you’ll float too.

warnings: self-doubt, very angsty. that’s it.

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i am so sorry this took me so long but i was locked out of my account for a good while before i managed to get back in- this is rlly emotional and i'm kinda sorry… thats a lie. i'm in an angsty mood. hope you enjoy this anon :)

not proofread in the slightest, beware grammatical mistakes

promts: angst 7. “wake up please!” 9. “no! don't you dare close your eyes!” 12. “is everything just a joke to you!?” 15. “you always do this!”

— — — — — X — — — — —

your mind is filled with regret and fear as silent tears stream down your face, hair caking against your forehead which is damp with blood and sweat. you regret the way things between you and richie, your supposed boyfriend, were left. but the fear you felt? that had nothing to do with your fight with the glasses-wearing idiot. this wasn’t like any other fear you’ve felt before. this was a primal fear, as if every cell in your worn out body was begging you to run, get out of there no matter the cost.

you couldn't. not only were you quite literally stuck where you were, a mountain of items separating you from the exit, but the sight of beverly’s floating body halts your flight reaction. you couldn't reach her, it was in your way. its orange eyes which stare through you as it approaches you slowly, mockingly. its mouth is upturned in a sick grin, rows of sharp teeth on display as it spews razor sharp words at you, each syllable coming from its mouth causing your body to grow weaker as you start to give up.

“there’s no point. they’re not coming to find you.” it starts off, a bubbly laugh being pulled from its chest. “they’re only interested in bevvy which means we get to have so much fun together!” you shudder at the thought of its version of fun. “they’re better off without you, y/n. richie too.”

your heart aches at the mention of him, a wave of self doubt crashing over you as you consider the possibility of your friends not needing you. “you’ll float too.” its words pull you from your inner debate and you flinch when you see its face right in front of yours, close enough to smell the rotten breath which escapes its mouth. you desperately try to move further away but your back hits a wall almost immediately. you have nowhere to run.

you close your eyes and feel a gloved hand wrap around your throat, breath hitching as you await the pain, the darkness, anything.

a loud scream echoes throughout the sewer and you could've sworn it sounded like bowers. whoever it was though, spared your life. its hand loosens as it turns to look into the one tunnel, obviously knowing more than you do in that moment.

it whips its head around to grin at you, “guess our playtime will have to wait.”

all of a sudden a wave of nausea oversomes you and you start to feel lightheaded, the fear you were feeling doubling as you lose control of your body. “sleep tight!” it laughs maniacally as your eyes droop shut and body drops to the floor, sewer water soaking the rest of you.

the last thing you see is the huge figure of the clown looming over you, as you go over the argument you and richie had 2 days earlier. it was the last time you spoke to him and even now, on the verge of death, the only thought which floats in your mind is about him.

‘i wonder how rich is doing…’

— — —

you slam your front door shut and throw your bag onto the kitchen counter, elbows resting on the top as you grip the roots of your hair in frustration. a knock at the door makes you sigh out loud, already knowing who it is: richie tozier. you had left him at the arcade but he doesn't seem to understand the fact that you want nothing to do with him.

with a major eye roll, you make your way to the front door, silently thanking whoever could hear you that your parents weren't home.

“what is it, richie?” you ask as you're greeted with the annoyed and confused expression of derry’s very own trashmouth. “what the fuck was that?” he asks, pulling another eye roll from you. “you mean when you flirted with that chick right in front of me?” he frowns at your words, clearly not agreeing with your conclusion. “i wasn’t flirting. i was being polite.” he says matter of factly.

“oh please,” you scoff, “richie tozier isn't polite.” he looks at you in silence for a good 5 seconds before responding drily, “i can be sometimes.”

“so you only choose to be polite when a pretty girl comes up to you, is that it?” your blood starts to boil. “maybe. i’m polite to you, am i not, toots?” he smiles and you swear that you could punch him into next year. “is everything just a joke to you!?” you shout, finally having enough with this nonchalant attitude of his.

he blinks, not expecting your outburst in the slightest. “why would this be a joke?” he asks dumbly. “you’re fucking kidding me, right?” you deadpan. “no.” is all he says and you laugh. “y’know, i always ignore the fact that you flirt with others, the idea that you’re looking for something in someone else but i can't anymore rich! i can't!” you pace slightly, richie still in the doorway as he watches you, tears slowly fogging your vision as you become angrier and angrier.

“i’m done! done with your bullshit and with undermining myself and this relationship!” his eyes widen at those words, not expecting you to go this far. “hey, calm down alright? i’m sorry, it’s fine. i-” you cut him off and pull your arm away before he manages to get a grip on you.

“no, it’s not ‘fine’, richie! you always do this, don't you see? i try to get over it, ignore the self-doubt, but i can't anymore! it hurts… you keep hurting me.” your voice gets softer towards the end and you blink away the tears which threaten to spill over. “i can’t do this anymore.”

your gaze is downcast but if only you looked at him and saw the broken expression on his face, the tears which shine in his own eyes, size enhanced by his glasses. “so, what? this is it?” his voice cracks ever slightly at the end and your heart aches at the sound but you refuse to meet his eyes as you whisper, “yeah, maybe.”

he stands in silence, not knowing what to say or how to reassure you that you’re the only one on his mind. the only one he’d ever consider being with, the one he wants to spend his whole life with. the only one in this world that he truly loves. he can’t form the word to tell you this, the only words which manage to leave his mouth are lousy and unimpactful, “i got to go. we can talk about this tomorrow.”

and with that, he’s off. picking up his bike, he doesn't look back and quickly cycles off, heading straight for his house and he fails to see the heartbreak on your face, the way you crumble in a heap on the ground, hand covering your mouth as you cry. you cry harder than you ever have before.

if only he knew that you wouldn't be able to talk about it the next day. maybe then he would've said what was on his mind, what he desperately wanted to tell you, things he may never get to tell you.

— — —

“-n!” your eyes flutter under your lids, slowly being dragged from the memory of that night.

“y/n-” you manage to make out your name, “-please!”, the voice is oddly familiar and it pushes you to try open your eyes. they’re heavy and strained but you need to see if it’s who you think, if it’s who you hope.

“wake up, please!” your eyelids peek open slightly, taking a second to adjust to the newly found light.

as you get accustomed to seeing things again, you feel your torso being squeezed, warmth and a familiar smell filling your senses. your eyes prickle with tears as you see the mop of messy curls, weak arms trying to wrap themselves around the boy in comfort.

“i’m sorry.” he mumbles and you shake your head, causing him to lift his own from your neck. you look into richie’s eyes and you’re filled with regret, wanting to take back everything you said to him. “no,” your voice is hoarse and scratchy, “i’m sorry… i didn’t mean anything i said.” you admitted.

he smiles sadly and you finally notice the wet lines running down his face. guess you weren’t the only emotional one right now.

“you have nothing to apologise for. i was a dumbass.” he sniffs and you laugh lightly before coughing loudly, causing his eyes to widen as panic rises in his chest. “no you weren’t,” you manage to get out as your coughing calms down a little bit, “i was… i-” you cough again, face scrunching up in pain, your throat feeling as if you’ve swallowed glass shards and then some.

you feel your eyes slowly start to close, exhaustion taking over. “no! don't you dare close your eyes! you hear me? don't leave me again, please!” he cries out, the rest of the losers quick;y making their way over to you, the sight of pennywise disappearing down the sewer fresh in their minds.

“keep them open!” he urges, more tears streaming down his flushed and dirty face. “i’m tired…” you slur, voice sleepy and mind foggy, finally feeling safe. “i’m fine, jus’ lemme… sleep…” you plead.

richie shakes his head. “just wait, alright? hang in there!”

you smile at him softly, hand slowly making its way to cup his cheek. “dumbass…” you start, eyes glazing over, “i love you…” you whisper, hand soon falling off his face as you finally give in to the exhaustion and darkness overcomes all your senses.

you faintly hear richie cry in the background, the other losers calling your name in vain. you try fight, you wanted to fight for richie but 4 words put an end to your struggle. 4 words which you’ve always wanted to hear from him:

“i love you too.”

the words echo throughout your mind as you drift off into the dark abyss, a smile on your face as you take your last breath in the arms of the boy you fell in love with, the only one who’ll ever have your heart.

‘i may only see you in another life, rich, but i’ll love you in every one of them.’

you should be scared or anxious but you’re not. you feel content, safe, comforted… loved.

— — — — — X — — — — —

#richie trashmouth tozier #richie tozier #richie tozier angst #richie x reader #richie x gn!reader #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier x gn!reader #the losers club richie tozier #the losers club x reader #the losers club x gn!reader #the losers club #gn!reader #angst #it stephen king

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xxemosceneacidscumxx · 7 months ago

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Dark Link x FEM! Reader

~Puzzling~

Part four

(Song: Suck by Kittie)

Every day I looked for more clues as to what's happening, but I can't find anything. The days started out a little interesting considering that this is basically a whole new universe, but now it's getting painfully boring because this is a closed world video game. It has been 4 months, and I only know that because of the monthly blood. I open my eyes and sigh as I feel the sorrow in my chest, waking up here again to the same place, and the same food, and the same activities planned out. I brush my teeth, eat what pearl made for breakfast, and I make my way behind the windmill and sit there. I felt the slow hot tears rolling down my cheeks as I thought about how bored I am, and how I wish that I could see my parents again just once. Then I heard it. The screaming. My head whipped around and I looked around the windmill, still staying behind it, and what I saw was horrifying. I saw the man from before with the black skin and the white hair. And he was on his horse, just running through town smiling and beheading people. And the ones that ran, he just... chased them. I saw him disappear into a black cloud of smoke, and reappear in front of some man to slash open his neck with his sword. Him and his horse stood there as the man grasped at his neck crying and choking as the blood cascaded down his body onto the ground. My heartbeat sped up and my body began to tremble as I watched the man die slowly. Then suddenly I felt my body freeze and I looked slightly over to see dark link staring it me. I jumped and went slightly backward still keeping eye contact, fear rising more and more every second. I want to look away but I can't. What if he wants me to look away so that I'll be more scared when he gets over here. He smirked and did the 'I'm watching you' with his fingers and teleported somewhere. I closed my eyes and covered up my body preparing for the worst.. but after a few seconds I opened my eyes and nothing was there. I could see the remaining people with strong stomachs cleaning up the bodies. Then I had a thought. PEARL!! I gotta see if she's okay. I jumped down and run into pearl's house dodging all the bodies. "Pearl?? Pearl!" I said frantically looking around. She was nowhere. I run out and look around the village frantically calling for her. But to no avail. Then, I go next to the potion shop by death mountain trail and see it... her head was on a pole with a note nailed to it. It said 'we'll meet again :)' I collapsed in horror as I realized that now I'm in a different world, I'm ALL ALONE, and now there's a psycho head chopping clone thingy after me. I sit here sobbing as I wonder what to do now.

#just for fun #creepypasta #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x reader #cringe warning #don’t like don’t read #dark link #x fem!reader #x female reader

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otherworldseekers · 2 years ago

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Fluffuary Day 11: First "I love you"

Takes place during the break between 5.3 and 5.4.

The dream comes as they always do. At first, fleeting images. Her father’s face creased with disappointment. The sound of her mother’s weeping. The grass brushing against her legs. The sighing of the wind through the sacred tree. The roughness of the rope around her wrists. It hurts and through the pain things start to take on deeper proportions.

Then men who tie her to the tree are large and reek of sweat. They chatter and joke and laugh with each other as if she isn’t there. To them she is just another task to perform. But they perform it well. There is no sloppiness in the knots they have tied, no slack in the rope. Even for a small mite of a child like her, there is no mercy here.

The men step back and the tribe’s elder comes forward. He tests her bonds and says the requisite prayers in a perfunctory manner, eager to get back to the comfort of his ger. A bag is laid among the tree’s roots where she cannot reach it. Only if she manages to free herself from the ropes will she be rewarded with a small ration of water and bread. Without a second glance into her fearful eyes, the men leave her there to face her test.

The sun has climbed above the distant mountains now and beats down on her. She is alone. Everything is her enemy. The heat of the sun which dries out her mouth. The bark of the tree digging into her spine. And most of all the ropes.

She watches in horror as they turn to snakes and bite her hands. Venom courses through her veins and sets her bones on fire. If only it would consume her quickly. Rain lashes her and douses the fire. The snakes have run away but in their place are thorn covered vines. Her blood streams down her wrists and falls into the grass spawning monstrous, fanged creatures. They climb her body to lap at her blood.

She is screaming, screaming, screaming until her voice fails her.

“Hush, my darling,” says a familiar voice against her horn. “Hush. It’s only a dream. I’m what’s real.”

Severia blinks back her tears, hands reaching by instinct for Nero’s warmth. He responds to her need and wraps his arms tightly around her, pulling her against his bare chest. One by one she identifies her environment. Her room. Her bed. Her Nero. Her breathing slowly becomes less ragged.

“Nero,” she chokes as she clings to him.

“I’m here, precious girl,” he whispers as he strokes her hair. “I’ll always be here.” He lets her cry in his arms until she has no more tears left. Until her eyelids grow heavy once again. Nightmares plague her all too often and he is now an old hand at this.

When he thinks she has fallen asleep he shifts them to a more comfortable position, but she drowsily cries out and grips him more firmly. “Nero… don’t go,” she whimpers from somewhere between waking and dreaming. “I… love you…”

Nero feels a thrill course through him. Did she really… He fights down the urge to shake her awake and make her say the words again. To say them consciously, with intent. He’s wanted to hear them from her lips for what seems like years. It has been obvious to him from the beginning of their relationship that he was madly in love with her. But he’s aware of Severia’s confused and complicated relationship with the concept of love. And he swore never to push her or pressure her with his own declaration.

“I love you, Severia,” he whispers, so as not to wake her, and plants a kiss on the scales of her forehead. She responds by snuggling closer.

He considers a dozen schemes to get her to say the words again on the morrow as he drifts away beside her with a smile on his face.

#Fluffuary 2023 #Severia x Nero #my writing #Severia Zetsuen #Nero Scaeva #FFXIV fanfic

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shebeafancyflapjack · 7 months ago

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A shrill scream rattled around the walls of the cave, waking most of the tribe. Some raised their heads, eyes darting immediately to the entrance and then around for signs of intruder, be they animal or human. When no obvious danger could be seen, they looked to the source of the noise.

Uri. Five years old, red hair that clashed with the usual brown manes everyone else possessed, pale skin like Moonah that burned easily under Sunne. She sat up, a deep and haunted look in her green eyes, as she began to hyperventilate.

One of them reached across and nudged the man curled up beside his sister and mate, two of their children snuggled between them. Rogh had not bolted awake at the child's scream, but that was to be expected considering he'd just returned from a two day hunt, absolutely exhausted.

But he was primarily responsible for the child, the one she had imprinted on after they had come across what little remained of her tribe in the woods. The group of hunters had intended to go "deal with" the threat of a rival tribe, only to discover some kind of beast, possibly a mountain lion, had done most of the job for them. The only survivors had been two pregnant women and an orphaned child clinging to the tallest branches of the nearby trees.

Rogh had spotted the girl and eventually encouraged her to let go, placing his club on the ground and promising to catch her. She'd fallen into them and barely left his side since. Others in the tribe were more weary of the child with "fire hair", while the rest believed her skin to be a sign she was blessed by Moonah. To Rogh, she was just another one of his many, many cubs.

"Wha...What happen?" He groaned when Lar poked him in the shoulder one more time, shifting up and blinking, eyes adjusting to the dim light of the embers on the fire pit.

Lar pointed over to the child, eager to lay back down beside her own mate and get back to sleep.

Meeting the girl's eyes, Rogh recognised the sheer terror, while no sign of any physical threat made him conclude what had happened.

"Okay..." He murmured, shifting away from his sister and two of their young ones, twins Fee and Faa, to move over to the foundling.

He stroked her face, shushing her as he collected his tears on his sleeve, feeling her tremble against his touch.

"What you see?" He whispered as low as possible, not wanting to make more of the tribe cross with her by waking them further.

Uri shuddered; "Bear. Light. F-fire..." Her green eyes stared deep into Rogh's; "Aba....Aba on ground...Aba gone..."

"What? Aba gone?!" Another little voice piped up from their sleep-pelt.

"Kya! Back to sleep! Shh." He hissed at her, finger to his lips. "It just dream."

Except those little green eyes beheld more than just dreams. The wise women of the tribe believed her to have 'the Sight'. The child claimed to see people who were not there, those who matched descriptions of people in their tribe who had died long before. One time the girl had told Rogh there had been a woman standing behind him with a streak of silver in her hair and half her face bitten off. It had made his blood run cold. And when the child dreamed of ice blasting down from the clouds, a blizzard had nearly trapped them in the cave the next day.

And now she had seen him. Him....dead.

Rogh gulped, trying not to give into the fear gnawing at his gut. Sure, he knew he was getting on a bit, he'd outlived both of his parents for sure. But he hoped to have several more years in him before his luck ran out. He'd often prayed to Moonah to allow him to see one of his grandchildren born before he slept in the Earth. Not yet. He wasn't ready.

But that shouldn't be his concern right now, he told himself, shaking his head as he landed back in the present. His ward was still shaking like a leaf before him, tears rolling down her face, across those cute little spots on her cheeks.

"Come, come. Shh," He soothed, bringing her into his arms. He tucked her under his chin and into his furs, before laying back down close to the others. "No worry 'bout it. Me have scary dream a lot. No mean they come true."

"Dream like what, Aba?" Asked his oldest son, Gee, who was also supposed to be asleep.

Rogh sighed; "Dream Moonah get angry you not do what Aba say and she fall on you! Also that big water come rise up and drown all. And Sunne set fire to all trees and no more apples or berries. But it not happen, hmm? Water stay in big puddle and sky not burn. Moonah not flatten naughty cub." He gave his boy a gentle nudge with his elbow; "Sleep, you have hunt tomorrow. No wanna be cranky."

Gee huffed and rolled over against his mother's back. Rogh focused on calming Uri, rubbing her back as she continued to sniffle, having seen enough terrors in her little life to know more awful things were just as likely to occur, no matter how much Rogh tried to reassure her.

"Bear. So angry. Aba run. Aba run so fast but...it so fast...so bright..." She muttered, fingers curling tight into his furs.

Rogh huffed a small laugh; "Ha! See? It not real. Bears not bright. Bear dull and brown and stupid. Just silly dream, little one. No worry. Sleep now." He kissed the top of her hair and clutched her tight.

It took several minutes, the girl's fearful whimpers continuing to echo around the cave, but eventually she quietened, her little body going limp against him. Rogh let out a sigh of relief.

"Aba?"

He tutted; "Yes, Kya?"

"Promise bear not kill you."

It might be a foolish thing to do, but if it was the only thing to let his daughter go back to sleep that night, he was willing to make such a vow. He reached an arm back to tug her close.

"Me promise. Bear not kill me. Now sleep." He smiled, patting her braids and feeling her relax into his side.

And then, in a heartbeat, a growl rumbled through the cave.

His children dissolved in his arms. His sister, his cousins, his friends, all gone. The cave itself eroded to nothing. The stars that filled the sky faded behind very recent pollution. Even Moonah seemed to drift farther and farther away, abandoning him to the dark.

The caveman screamed, bolting upright.

"Robin?" Alison asked from the sofa, curled up under Mike's arm; "You okay?"

He blinked at them from his spot beside the fire, trying his best to calm himself. New tribe. New charges to protect. New baby in friend's tummy. He gulped, nodding.

"Yeah, just...bad dream..." He whispered. More than that, but he didn't know how to explain it.

"Wanna talk about it?" She asked, rubbing at her abdomen.

Robin shook his head, laying back down and staring into the flames, steadying his breathing. One constant marvel to calm and ground him as his chest ached from an ancient pain.

If nothing else, he supposed, he had kept his promise.

POV: You're one of Robin's children and he comforts you after a nightmare... Or is it a premonition?👀

Okay... My heart dropped with this one🥹

(TW: Bears, child crying)

(Headphones recommend; there is a part that can only be heard from the right ear)

All sound effects and ambience found on YT

#sorry so sorry #writing angst helps me somehow

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katsukikitten · 3 years ago

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Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha x reader

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