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justagalwhowrites · 1 month ago

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Halcyon - Ch. 17: You're Sorry, Great. Awesome.

You and Joel throw Sarah a birthday party. Things don't go as planned. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 16, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

(I am BEGGING HBO for some flashback scenes this season PLEASE.)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected P in V sex. Fingering. Kind of aggressive sex. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 7k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“You gonna come for me?”

Joel was everywhere, fucking everywhere, deep inside, pressed tight over you, arms looped around beneath you, his breath hot against your ear as he sucked wetly at your neck. All you could do was whimper below him, clawing at his skin as you scrambled to keep him close.

“There you go,” he said, voice low and quiet and rough. “Fuck, gettin’ so damn tight on me, you’re close baby, lemme feel you.”

You angled your hips as best you could below him so that every thrust reached deep and every motion worked your clit.

“Joel,” you breathed, desperate and too close to your climax to care that you sounded pathetic and needy. “You feel so good, fuck, please, please, please…”

His thrusts grew harder, sloppy, panting breathlessly against your skin.

“Love makin’ you feel good,” he said, sounding half out of his mind as he did. “Fuck, love makin’ you come, you gotta come for me baby, I need it, c’mon honey, please, fuck, I love, I love…”

Your orgasm hit you hard, making you cry out, pressing your mouth into Joel’s shoulder to muffle the sound of your pleasure.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, his hips stuttering. “That’s right, keep comin’ for me, gonna fill you up, fill you up so fuckin’ good, leave you drippin’ me all damn day, fuck!”

He pressed deep and you could feel the heavy throb of his orgasm as he spilled into you, his come hot and thick on your most sensitive places inside. The feel of him pressing himself tight against you, clinging to you like you were all he wanted, made you come again around him, this orgasm more subdued as you focused on just how damn good he felt inside you.

“Holy shit,” he panted, going limp on top of you as both of your orgasms eased.

“Tell me about it,” you said, breathless too, trailing your fingers up and down the broad expanse of his back.

He laughed a little.

“Fuck I love startin’ my day that way,” he said, pushing himself up from you and kissing your forehead as he slid out of you, a thick thread of his come and yours connecting your bodies for a moment before he collapsed at your side.

You waited, as you always did, for him to decide how close the two of you would be after. But he tugged you against him, so your head was on his chest and his arm was around your shoulders, giving you a squeeze. You draped your arm over his broad chest and snuggled closer, breathing in the smell of his skin. You always liked having time like this with Joel but you were extra thankful for it then, the stress of getting ready for Sarah’s birthday pool party easier when you had a few reliable orgasms every day. Now that the day had arrived and you had a list of things that still needed doing, it seemed necessary to soak up that closeness with him while you could get it.

“Me too,” you said quietly.

“Speaking of starting the day,” he said and you could hear the smile in his voice. “You ready to have about two dozen tweens crash in on us for the afternoon?”

You snorted.

“As I’ll ever be,” you said. “I think we have everything except the cake and a few snacks but we should check again before one of us goes to pick it up.”

“See, logistics like this are why I never did this before,” Joel teased. “So much easier to just show up at a bowling alley or some shit where they do it all for you.”

“She’s going to have so much fun though,” you smiled a little, remembering going to Party City with Sarah a few weeks before to find things for the party. She’d excitedly picked all the purple butterfly covered decorations and invitations, beaming as she did, her front teeth still a little too big for her face. “You’re going to have cool dad points for months off this.”

“Fuckin’ better,” he said and you nuzzled closer to him as you laughed and he sighed. “I’m gonna miss this, Goldie girl.”

“What, starting your day fucking someone?” You teased even though it stung knowing that’s all it was.

You and Joel had thrown yourselves fully into the friends with benefits arrangement over the last month. You fucked every day, usually before he went to work - when Ellie’s early morning cries got one of you out of bed for at least a few minutes to settle her before returning and getting tangled in each other - and again in the evening when Sarah and Ellie were both asleep and you could take your time - pulling orgasm after orgasm from each other until you passed out, naked and sweaty and slick with come. You loved it. Far more than you should love it, so much that you had to fight to keep from saying it and ruining everything. You’d finally found some way to almost have what you wanted, you weren’t about to wreck it just because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

But it was all ending soon, anyway. Anna had a release date from the inpatient program you’d gotten her into and, after talking with her and her doctors, you’d decided that you and Ellie would move into Anna’s house for a while. That meant leaving Joel’s and his bed and the comfort you found inside his space.

“Don’t act like you’re not gonna miss that, too,” you could hear the roll of his eyes as he spoke. “But I more mean doin’ stuff like throwing this party with you. If you weren’t here, I’d just be stressed about it if I were doing it at all. But you’re here so I can look forward to it and how happy it’s going to make her and I’m going to miss having you here to do that shit with.”

“I’m not going far,” you said, smiling a little into his chest. “But I get what you mean. Taking care of Ellie was so scary at first but you’re here and now, it’s not. Because I’m doing it with you.”

Joel trailed his fingers up and down your upper arm and you just lay there with him, feeling his warmth and the softness of his skin and wishing you could find some way to be this close to him all the time.

“You could just have Anna move in here,” he said and you laughed. “Hey, I’m serious!”

“I know,” you said. “But no, not the best idea for this stage of recovery, that’s a lot of upheaval when she’s already going to be adjusting to life outside and as a mom. But once I bring Ellie there, Anna’s going to be seeing a therapist daily and if she’s getting overwhelmed, she’s going back in. Who knows, I might be back here before you know it.”

“Hate that you’re makin’ me be against you showing back up here,” he said, just as the alarm on your phone started to ring. He groaned and you rolled to turn it off but you were only away from him for a moment before he pulled you back with a little yelp.

“Hey!” You laughed into his chest. “C’mon, we need to get going…”

“We got time,” he said, his voice husky, his hand skimming over your side, fingers trailing up to your breast.

“Joel…” you breathed, sounding just as needy as you felt and you tried to avoid the twinge of shame that crept in with that need.

“C’mon,” he said, tilting your chin so he could kiss you. “Lemme have you again. We got time.”

His hold on you tightened and so did the knot in your stomach and you knew you couldn’t say no to him. You never could.

“OK,” you said softly. “We got time.”

You were both still breathless when Sarah knocked on Joel’s door about 30 minutes later and you turned to muffle the almost maniacal giggle that slipped out of you as she spoke.

“Hey Dad?” She called to you both. “Can we have pancakes?”

“Sure thing, baby girl,” he panted. “Just… five minutes.”

You could practically hear her frown through the door.

“What are you guys doing in there?” She asked. “You sound weird.”

“Just… gettin’ ready for the party,” he said and you snorted. He pulled you tight against him so your mouth was pressed tight to his chest. “Be out in a minute.”

Once the two of you left the quiet privacy of his bedroom, things moved quickly. You bounced and fed Ellie while Joel made breakfast for the three people in the house eating solid food. After you ate, Joel cleaned up while you put Ellie in a baby wrap and worked with Sarah to decorate the living room and the pool. She carefully decided where she wanted the gift table and where the snacks should be, what games should be out, where goodie bags should live, stepping back and considering everything with a serious look on her face that you had to fight to not giggle at.

“OK,” she said after a while as she surveyed the space and gave a firm nod. “I think it’s perfect.”

“You picked a good set up, kiddo,” you smiled, not even irritated that you’d swapped the gift table and the snack table’s positions four times. “Everyone’s going to have a great time.”

“I hope so,” she said, beaming. “I can’t believe I get a pool party! I’m going to go get ready!”

You and Joel left Sarah at the house to do her hair while the two of you took Ellie to pick up the cake and the last few things you needed at the store.

Your niece was strapped to your chest and you were halfway down the chip aisle when you ran into Alyssa, the friend at work you’d made at the start of the school year that you hadn’t spoken to in months, too wrapped up in everything with Ellie and Anna and Joel to do anything like maintain a relationship with a coworker.

“Oh, my God!” She beamed at you, pulling you in for an awkward hug with Ellie to the side. “I haven’t seen you in… shit, months? How’ve you been? Busy, I see!”

“Yeah,” you laughed a little. “I’ve had my hands full taking care of this one. My sister’s… sick.”

“Well, she’s an absolute doll!” She smiled broadly, leaning in to Ellie who beamed back at her, smiling her little gummy smile. “Hi there, cutie! Are you keeping your auntie from writing the next great American novel? Are you totally worth it? I think so!”

“OK I got the cookies, too,” Joel said, coming up behind you and putting his hand on the small of your back, reaching around you to drop the packages in the cart. “Don’t know what kids don’t like fuckin’ cake but…” You cleared your throat as your cheeks got hot, feeling oddly exposed at the idea of having someone see Joel’s casual intimacy with you like this, Joel’s face near yours in a place you might kiss him if the two of you were at home. “Oh. Hi. I’m sorry, have we met?”

“Yeah, hi,” she smiled, straightening and looking Joel up and down in that way she had. “I’m Alyssa, we ran into each other when you came by campus toward the start of the school year. Good to see you again! It looks like you two have gotten…”

“Oh, no,” you laughed quickly, eyes darting to Joel, hoping he wasn’t panicking at the concept of being with you. “No, no, we’re… he’s been helping with Ellie here, he has a daughter so…”

“Yeah, I’ve just done it all before,” he said, an odd twinge in his voice. “Don’t mind helpin’ out.”

“That’s so nice of you,” Alyssa said, still watching Joel closely. “God, there’s just something about a man who’s good with kids…”

“We are in high demand,” Joel said, a new flirtatious edge to his tone that made your stomach get tight. “Sorry to pull this one away but, speaking of kids, we got a birthday party to get back and finish settin’ up for…”

“Oh, of course,” she smiled, waving him off. “Sorry, I don’t want to keep the two of you on a Saturday! But… you know, if you two aren’t…”

“We’re not,” you said, probably too harshly, not able to look at Joel as you said it.

“Then maybe we could have a drink sometime,” she said, as though you hadn’t spoken. “She’s got my number, if you’re interested.”

“Uh,” Joel said and you forced yourself to glance his way, his hand still on the small of your back. “Yeah, alright, I’ll… I’ll let you know.”

“Looking forward to it,” she winked before looking back to Ellie. “Goodbye, sweet girl!” And then she looked to you. “So good to see you!”

“Yeah,” you forced a smile. “You, too.”

You watched her go before turning back to Joel.

“Sorry, that was…” you searched for the word. “Awkward.”

“Yeah, think you could have denied that a little harder,” he said wryly and you glared at him. “What? Don’t think I’m that embarrassing.”

“You know you’re not embarrassing,” you rolled your eyes. “I just… don’t want to tie you down.”

“You don’t tie me down,” he said.

“That’s sweet,” you said, grabbing the biggest bag of Doritos and adding them to the cart. “But… you know, the lists did include helping each other find a stable relationship and -” you looked around quickly, lowering your voice as you did “- we both know that friends with benefits is not that.”

“So you’re gonna set me up with your friend?” He asked, sounding almost annoyed.

You frowned.

“What, are you going to pretend like she’s not your type?”

He just looked at you for a moment, his jaw tight.

“Never mind,” he said. “Let’s just go get the cake.”

“What?” You asked, following after him as he took over pushing the cart.

“Nothin’,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Joel,” you caught up with him. “Is everything…”

“It’s fine,” he snapped as the two of you got to the bakery counter. “Just drop it, alright? Jesus.”

“Fine,” you muttered as Ellie started to fuss against you. “Dropped.”

But you didn’t want to drop it. You tried to find a way to bring it up again but Joel was still surly on the drive back to the house, his mouth still in a thin line as he carried things in from the car.

“Are you really going to be like this all day?” You asked quietly as you set the cake on the table in the living room next to the butterfly themed plates. “Because…”

“I’m not bein’ like anything,” he said. “I’m fine. I don’t know why you keep askin’.”

“Because you’ve been acting weird since the chip aisle,” you said. “And Sarah’s been looking forward to this for like two months.”

“She’s my kid,” he said, defensive. “I know that she’s looking forward to it, alright? And I have not been ‘acting weird.’” He put the words in air quotes. “I’m just stressed about making this party happened, not everything is about you and what your people think, Goldie.”

You pulled back from him, his words sharp.

“I’m sorry that my coworker thought we were a couple,” you hissed, keeping your voice low. “We’re not in high school anymore and while you night think anyone would be a better option than me but not everyone is going to just assume that you could never want me!”

“That’s what you think?” He asked, stepping closer to you, his hands on his hips, his shoulders feeling unreasonably broad. “You think that’s why I’m upset?”

“Aunt Goldie?” Sarah said, running into the room, a sarong in her arms and wearing the swimsuit you’d helped her pick the week before. “Can you help me put this thing on? I can’t figure it out.”

“Of course, kiddo,” you said, taking the sarong and giving Joel a look. “Come on, we’ll get it figured out.”

You left Joel with the snacks and went to help Sarah, trying to shove Alyssa and Joel’s shitty mood out of your mind.

***

Sarah was happy.

Joel kept reminding himself of that.

Sarah. Was. Happy.

That was the important thing, that’s what mattered, that’s what the two of you had been planning and working on for weeks, throwing Sarah the party she’d been begging him for for years.

And now it was here, Sarah was happy and he had a grill full of burgers and hot dogs, a backyard full of 25 pre-teens and a handful of parents who’d volunteered to help make sure no one drowned.

Including the dad of one of the kids in Sarah’s class. One who had a decade on you and Joel and was apparently single and deciding to make that your fucking problem.

And Joel wasn’t sure how long he was supposed to stand here and watch you flirt with that fucking guy.

It was bad enough, getting hit on in front of you at the fucking grocery store and watching you rush to dodge any connection you had with him. No, now he also had to deal with this fucking asshole who was - frustratingly - not really an asshole at all.

Tim was a guy Joel had met a few times, one of the few hands on dads in Sarah’s class. They’d chaperoned a few field trips together and Joel liked the guy. Or he had, anyway. The pair hand bonded over their daughters’ love of Taylor Swift and learning how to do hair and their shared apprehension of the coming teen years. He was good natured, an invested father, a guy he’d have liked to grab a beer with sometime. He’d been meaning to try to get their kids together and see if he could actually, maybe, have a friend outside of you and his brother.

And then Tim saw you and everything changed.

Now, Tim was making Joel’s fist clench and his stomach tighten because he was making you laugh. You were in your swimsuit, one that made Joel want to touch every goddamn inch of you, Ellie in your arms in her little sunhat and you were laughing at something Tim was saying, that fucking smile of yours making his heart ache. That fucking smile holding so much promise when it was made for that guy because smiling at him was different than smiling at Joel.

Because, really, how would he measure up to someone like fucking Tim? The guy who actually made good money, who had bothered to go to college, who didn’t need to wait to accidentally knock someone up to get his shit together. And you obviously had a thing for guys who were older, Tim’s graying hair and casual ease making Joel feel at least a little lacking before let alone now. Of course you’d be interested in him over Joel. Why wouldn’t you be?

“You alright?” Tommy asked, sidling up to Joel by the grill.

“Fine,” Joel muttered, still watching you. Tim held his arms out and you passed him Ellie before reaching to grab a can of White Claw from the cooler next to you, smiling and cooing at Tim and Ellie as you did. Joel ground his teeth.

“You sure?” Tommy said. “Because think that burger would disagree.”

Joel frowned, looking down to find the patty on the corner of the grill smoking, the dripping fat from the meat making the fire flare up below it.

“Shit,” he swore, quickly sliding the spatula below the burger and moving it away from the flames.

“That one’s yours,” Tommy teased, taking a sip of his beer and looking out toward the pool.

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel said, taking stock of the rest of the grill to make sure nothing else was on fire.

“Goldie’s lookin’ good,” Tommy said after a moment.

Joel’s grip on the spatula got tight.

“Guess so,” he said. “I see her every day so… wouldn’t know.”

“Oh I think you know,” Tommy said. “Looks like she’s gettin’ awful cozy with that guy over there.”

“Hadn’t noticed.”

“Really?” Tommy said, brows raised. “Guess you were… what, starin’ at the fence behind ‘em then?”

“Fuck off, Tommy.”

“I’m just sayin’,” he said. “Like to think I know you pretty well seeing as you’re my brother and all. Just calling it like I see it. Calling it like I’ve been seein’ it for 20 years.”

“Well, you’ve been seeing wrong,” Joel said.

“Don’t think that’s it,” Tommy said. Joel opened his mouth to argue but Tommy didn’t give him the chance. “Look, if you really want to sit on your ass about it forever, that’s on you. I’m just saying that it sure seems like now is a damn good time to work your shit out with her. Either that or decide to just be a miserable asshole forever because you’re stubborn. No skin off my back.”

“You, what, think you know everything because you’ve found a woman who will stick around?” Joel snapped, fighting to keep his voice low. “You’ve been in a relationship for five goddamn minutes, don’t sit there and…”

“Hey guys,” you walked over, smiling, Tim still at your side with Ellie in his arms. “ETA on burgers? Think I should go get all the condiments set out?”

“Not a bad idea,” Joel said, fighting to keep his voice even.

“Want help?” Tim asked.

“If you can just keep holding the wriggly one, that would be amazing,” you smiled, touching his arm. His fucking arm. You looked back to Joel. “I’ll get everything set out… Are you OK?”

“Fine,” he said through clenched teeth. “Why?”

“If you say so,” you said, turning back to Ellie. “You be good, squrimy wormy.”

“She’ll be an angel,” Tim smiled. “Don’t even worry about it.”

Joel and Tim both watched you go inside, Joel struggling not to think about the sway of your hips below the gauzy wrap you’d tied around your middle like a skirt.

“Kids seem to be having a great time,” Tim said, looking out toward the pool. “I know Lucy’s been talkin’ about nothing else all week. Kid was born in December but I can already tell she’s going to be begging me for a pool party for her birthday all the same.”

“Glad I was able to pull it off for Sarah,” Joel said, looking determinedly at the grill.

“Well, you had help,” Tommy said and Joel shot him a glare. He pressed on like nothing had happened. “Sure it’s a lot easier when you’ve got your best friend there pitchin’ in…”

“Yeah, she was saying you two have been putting this together for a few weeks. If you don’t mind my asking,” Tim said, leaning closer to Joel and angling Ellie away from the heat of the grill. “What’s… what’s goin’ on there? Are you two…”

“Nope,” Joel cut him off. “Just… we’re just friends.”

“Cool,” Tim nodded slowly, looking toward the house as you carried plates of burger toppings out to a table covered in a purple tablecloth. “Because damn if she isn’t something.”

“See, that’s what I’ve been sayin’,” Tommy said, giving Joel a look. Joel just glared back.

Tim wasn’t looking their way, his eyes glued on you.

“I still can’t believe she wrote that book,” he said, sounding a little awed. “I still think it’s the best thing I’ve ever read. Must have been a hell of a trip to read that already knowing her.”

Joel was quiet, just flipping the burgers and taking a drink of beer.

“What was that like?” Tim asked when Joel had been quiet too long.

He glanced up at him, the annoyingly perfect fucking image of him holding Ellie while looking like the exact kind of person you’d go for making him hold his beer bottle a little too tight.

“Wouldn’t know,” Joel said, looking back down at the grill. “Haven’t read it. Don’t read much.”

“Oh,” Tim said, sounding surprised. “Well, you should. It’s amazing. She’s…”

“Something,” Joel cut him off, knowing he probably sounded like a dick but not caring enough to stop it. “You said.”

“Thank you for that,” you said, walking up and wiping crumbs from burger buns on your hands on your swimsuit. “Way easier when I’m not holding an infant but I’ll take her back now. Hi baby girl! Were you so good?”

“She was a dream,” Tim said, putting Ellie in your arms. “Makin’ me wish I had another one.”

“It’s the cuteness,” you said, smiling a little before looking down at your niece, letting her wrap her tiny hand around your thumb. You nuzzled into her head and kissed her. “She’s tricky that way.”

“Might be,” Tim smiled, watching you with the baby. “But still, real hard not to miss it. Wouldn’t mind having another one.”

“Yeah?” You asked, looking up at him with raised brows, holding Ellie against you.

“With the right person,” he smiled a little and if Joel had to watch this shit any longer he was sure he was going to break something.

“Alright, burgers are up!” He yelled toward the pool, ignoring the fact that Tim was standing close enough that he flinched.

Joel hung back as the kids clambered out of the water until everyone had a burger and you found him, a slight frown on your face.

“Are you sure you’re OK?” You asked. “Because if this is about earlier at the store…”

“Don’t they teach you smart college types that doing the same thing over and over don’t get you different results?” He snapped. “Stop asking.”

“Sorry,” you said, sounding hurt which made Joel’s jaw tighten. “Just try not to miss out on the good shit from today because of… whatever that is.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond, you just went to find fucking Tim, that hurt look melting off your face when he said something that made you smile in that fucking way you had, where you started slow and then it spread so your whole face shined, the way that Joel loved so much.

Joel stuck close to Tommy and his new girlfriend, Maria, for the rest of the party, trying to focus on Sarah and how she really was so fucking happy. He tried to ignore you. He tried to ignore the side eye from Tommy and the way you were looking at fucking Tim like he hung the goddamn moon. He tried not to think about the fact that, soon, you and Ellie would be leaving and this semblance of a family that he’d fallen into wouldn’t exist anymore. It would go back to the way it was before, just him and Sarah, and you’d go off and live your own damn life with Tim or someone like him.

The frustrating thing was, it wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t know what he’d be missing. When it was you and fucking Brad at least, Joel didn’t know any better. He didn’t know how good it could be with you. He didn’t know what he didn’t have. Now it would always be there, hanging over him, covering his memory of this time with this bitter patina that he couldn’t shake.

Tommy and Maria and fucking Tim stayed after the party wound down and helped clean up, you putting Ellie in her bouncer as you laughed at something he said. Things were back to normal - or close to it, a cake with a purple frosting border only half eaten on the kitchen counter and a few bags of trash by the door waiting to go into the big bin in the garage - in no time at all, something Joel was thankful for because that meant that Tim would probably leave soon. Hopefully.

“Where did y’all get that cake, anyway?” He asked following you inside as you put a sleeping Ellie in her playpen, Joel just a few steps behind. “It was really good.”

“H-E-B,” Joel said even though he knew Tim wasn’t asking him. “Nothin’ crazy.”

“Thanks,” Tim smiled over his shoulder toward Joel before looking back to you. “It was good. Really.”

“There’s tons of extra,” you said. “Want to take some home? Lord knows I don’t need it and if Sarah eats it all we’ll never see the end of the sugar high.”

As if to prove a point, Sarah and Lucy, Tim’s daughter, shrieked in glee over something in the back yard.

“That’d be great,” Tim said. “Sure Lucy’ll enjoy it.”

“I’ll wrap some up for you,” you smiled, leading the way to the kitchen.

“Try not to break your jaw clenching it like that, brother,” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder. Joel glared at him. “We’re gonna head out.”

“You know where to find the door,” Joel said.

“Know where to find your attitude, too,” he replied. “Try not to screw yourself over here, Joel.” Tommy left before he had a chance to argue, his arm around Maria’s shoulders as he led her to his truck.

But Joel, for a change, decided to actually take his brother’s advice. He didn’t want to screw himself over. He wasn’t ready to lose this with you, not yet.

He went to the kitchen to find you standing next to the cake, your body angled toward Tim’s, closer to him than Joel was happy about.

“So I’ll call you,” he was saying, a crooked smile on his face.

“Sounds good,” you smiled back, handing him his phone. “It might be a bit, a lot going on right now, but…”

“I can wait,” he said. “Something about good things coming to those who do…”

Joel cleared his throat and you almost jumped away from Tim, eyes a little wide, almost like Joel was your dad and you were in trouble.

“Get what you needed?” Joel asked, brows raised, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Think so,” Tim said, pocketing his phone and picking up a plate loaded with cake and covered in plastic wrap.”Thanks for having us, it was a great party.”

“Thanks for comin’,” Joel said, wishing he’d just get through the niceties and get the fuck out of his house. “Know Sarah liked having Lucy here.”

“Lucy had a great time, too,” he said before turning back to you. “Think we’ll get outta your hair but… talk to you soon?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Looking forward to it.”

Joel walked Lucy and Tim out to their car, Tim handing his daughter the plate with the cake before turning back to Joel.

“Look,” he said, all polite pretense gone from his voice. “I feel like I did something in the wrong here and I don’t want to try to steal another man’s girl…”

“She say we were together?” Joel asked, brows raised.

“No, but…”

“Then there you go,” Joel said, a little to harshly.

“Well then I must have done something else,” Tim said. “If it’s just that you’re protective of your friend, trust me, I meant it when I said she’s somethin’ because she is. I don’t know if it’ll work out but I’m not gonna hurt her.”

Joel clenched his jaw, trying not to picture someone else touching you the way he did, someone else pulling the little sounds of pleasure from your lips the way he did, loving you the way he did. Just the passing thought made his stomach turn, his blood hot. He wanted to tell Tim to back the fuck off because you belonged with him. But he couldn’t do that. Because it wasn’t true.

“Good to see you,” Joel said instead. “Drive safe.”

He didn’t wait to see them leave the driveway. Instead, he went to find you. Because maybe you didn’t belong with him, maybe you couldn’t be his in the way he wanted but goddammit if there wasn’t something in him you apparently wanted. You wanted it enough to be his friend, to ask for his help, to fuck him when you didn’t have another option. There was something in him that you thought was worthwhile and there had to be some way to make you remember that.

Joel stalked back inside to find you reorganizing the fridge, Ellie asleep in her playpen in the living room. You glanced his way as you put a plate of leftover burgers back in the fridge.

“Sarah’s showering,” you said. “But then she wants to open presents and asked if we could watch a movie after, I told her that should be fine but…”

Joel didn’t give you a chance to finish. Instead, he grabbed you, rougher than he should have but he couldn’t bring himself to care, pulling you away from the fridge with a surprised but quiet yelp as he pressed your back against the wall. He forced his knee between your thighs and pulled your mouth to his as he kissed you, harsh and sharp, devouring you and your needy little sounds. His hand tightened on your chin, holding you still so he could press tongue into your mouth, his other hand grabbing your thigh and hitching it over his leg, opening you to him.

He shoved the gusset of your swimsuit aside and thrust two fingers inside you, your tight heat wet and welcoming and he didn’t ease his way to that soft, sensitive place deep in you. Instead, he pressed in hard, his palm against your clit before he pulled his mouth from yours, everything wet and messy.

“Joel,” your eyes were wide, searching his. “What…”

“You think he can do this to you?” He rutted his cock against your hip. “Think he can make you come like I do?”

“Sarah’s home,” you whispered, your panting shifting to a moan as he pressed harder on your clit. “Fuck, Joel, you can’t just…”

“I can hear the shower,” he said harshly. “Answer the question. You think he can make you feel like this?”

To prove his point, he added another finger, stretching your tightening walls and making you gasp, fingers scrambling against his shoulder as you looked down to the place he was entering you. His own come from the morning was sliding over his skin and he was almost pissed about that, that you’d even look at another man while you were still full of him.

“I…” you looked back at him, pupils blown, lips shiny with his spit and yours from when he kissed you. “I… I don’t…”

“Think that fuckin’ guy can fuck you like I can?” He asked. “Think he can make you feel like I do? He can’t and he fuckin’ won’t.”

You moaned, desperate and uncontrolled and buried your face where Joel’s shoulder met his neck. His cock ached in his swim trunks, leaking and angry and he rutted it against you but he knew he wasn’t going to find relief right now. He didn’t care.

He felt like a man unhinged, the thought of you with someone else, touching someone else, in bed with someone else, loving someone else pushing him on. He couldn’t give you much, he fucking knew that, but there had to be a reason you’d stayed in his bed the last month and he was going to goddamn well make sure you knew it.

You came then, your pussy throbbing hard around his fingers as you moaned, voice cracking as you did. He stilled inside you, his hold on you easing so that his palm was more cupping your sex than pressing into it, savoring the feeling of your pleasure on his skin as your come soaked him. Your whole body went limp and he had to hold you up as you panted for breath. He eased his fingers out of you more gently than he’d done anything else since he’d started touching you, carefully tugging your swimsuit back into place over your leaking slit. You whimpered against him, sounding fucked out and exhausted.

Joel carefully adjusted you, holding your face in his hand, your eyes wide and mouth open as you took shaky, uncertain breaths.

“What was that?” you asked quietly.

Joel didn’t know how to answer.

“You OK?” He asked instead.

Your eyes raked over him, still wide and shocked, and he lowered your leg back to the ground, giving you a chance to stand on your own again.

“What do you want from me, Joel?” You whispered.

“Hey Dad?” Sarah yelled from her room. “Do we have more of that hair stuff?”

His jaw tightened.

“Go,” you said, reaching around him to hold onto the counter for balance.

“We’re talkin’ later,” he said, watching you for a moment before going to help Sarah.

He did his best to focus on his daughter while she opened her presents from her friends, you smiling and taking notes about who got her what so Sarah could write thank you cards, never once looking at Joel and he had this sinking, raw feeling in his stomach that he might have ruined things, actually ruined things this time. You stayed on the opposite end of the couch from him as the three of you watched the Hunger Games, careful to never even brush against him when you got up to get something. So different from every other time the three of you had sat here, you casually leaning your head on his shoulder or touching his leg to get his attention.

“Thank you, Dad,” Sarah said as he tucked her into bed - something he was sure she was going to start insisting she was too big for any day now. “That was the best party, everyone had such a good time, it was so fun to see everyone!”

“I’m glad you had fun, baby girl,” he smiled, smoothing her hair back from her face. “I know you’ve been wanting that for a while.”

“Yeah, but I know you’re busy,” she said. “It’s OK that it took some time.”

“Well, I should never be too busy for you,” he said.

“Probably right,” she said, scrunching her nose. Joel laughed. “I love you, Dad.”

“Love you, too,” he smiled, reaching to turn out her lamp.

“Oh, tell Aunt Goldie I love her too?” She said. “I forgot to…”

His heart clenched.

“Course baby girl,” he said. “I know she loves you, too.”

“Duh,” she smiled. “I’m the best.”

Joel laughed.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

He started back toward the living room to find you but stopped when he saw the light on in his bedroom. He paused at the door, wondering if he should knock even though the two of you hadn’t had that pretense in weeks.

But he just opened it, moving quietly and closing the door silently behind him, finding you emptying the drawers that had become yours in the months you’d lived in his house.

“What are you doing?” He asked quietly.

You looked up, your eyes finding his and narrowing.

“Goldie…” he moved to touch you but you pulled yourself away before he could.

“Don’t,” you snapped, packing your things into the suitcase that had been tucked away in the space between Joel’s dresser and the wall for so long he’d almost forgotten it was there.

“Look, I…” he began but you cut him off.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You asked, all but throwing some shirts into the suitcase. “What was that!”

He sighed, not able to look at you for a moment. He wasn’t sure how to answer that. What was he supposed to say? Sorry, the thought of losing you to another man made me lose my mind for a minute? Now that you don’t need as much help with your niece I wanted to remind you of the one other thing you seemed to need me for?

“I…” he broke off. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” You asked, brows raised. “You’re sorry, great. Awesome. What do you want from me, Joel? Do you want me to never date anyone so you can fuck me when you’re bored? Do you think I’m going to just live here forever so I’ll be at your disposal whenever you need to get off?”

“That ain’t…”

“I want to be with someone who loves me!” Your voice was thick, wet. “I want a chance at loving someone and I want them to love me, too, and I can’t do this with you, Joel! I can’t upend my entire life because we’re doing whatever this is, I can’t and I don’t want to.”

His chest got tight and you just shook your head, going to get more out of the drawer to keep packing.

“Anna is about to come home,” you said. “I was already going to leave soon. I’ll go tomorrow, spend a few days in my own damn house in my own damn bed and then go to her place.”

“Goldie,” he whispered, stepping close to you, taking your face in his hand. You at least didn’t pull away from him this time. “Just… stay.”

Your eyes searched his for a moment and, for half a second, he thought you might say yes.

“I can’t,” you said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Joel just hoped you couldn’t see the pain in his eyes as you went back to collecting your things to leave him behind yet again.

Next Chapter

A/N: I really wish I could explain what came over Joel here but I can't I'm sorry I think he possessed me and this is what happened SORRY

Thank you for being here and for reading. I love you!

Taglist: @kaseyconnour

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #halcyon #joel miller x oc

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kowaiitenshii · 1 year ago

Text

[Sunkiller Lullaby]

Pairing: Darth Vader x Reader

Plot Summary: A slave girl given to The Empire as a token of loyalty, known as the Flower of Beauty on your long since destroyed homeplanet, you’re nearly sent back to be executed before Darth Vader deems you worthy of saving. What will happen as you form a new life as the personal servant to a Sith Lord?

Warnings: Canon-level violence. Murder. Mentions of death. Corruption. Canon-divergent. Unburnt!Vader. Reader is a former slave. Vader is his own warning. Descriptions of mistreatment. AFAB reader, feminine pronouns & descriptions used. 18+ content to come in later chapters.

Words: 4.1k

A/N: Here it is! My first time writing anything Star Wars related, but most certainly not the last :) I’ve thought about this for a long time, but some things may still seem OOC so I’m sorry for that! Otherwise, please enjoy!

(p.s. I highly recommend you give a listen to the song that gave this fic its title, Sun Killer by Spiritbox!)

Part I:

The trembling sound of chains dragging across slick tiled flooring wakes you as two Stormtroopers led by an Imperial Commander haul you carelessly through the corridors of what you assume to be an Imperial ship.

The air is cold on your bare skin, and the harsh grip of the Stormtroopers on your arms feels enough to be bruising.

Blinking blearily through the shroud of unconsciousness, there is a palpable darkness hanging in the very air around you, as if it had been waiting for you, billowing over you and filling your lungs like smoke.

The Stormtroopers drag your limp body into a huge open room in the core of the ship with high rounded ceilings and walls, all white, controls blinking throughout the room in greens and reds.

You don’t even have time to take in your surroundings and think before the Commander and Troopers stop abruptly, the Commander taking a step to the left side, revealing what they’ve brought you here for.

That’s when you finally see the presence that you’ve sensed since you awoke.

The imminent Sith Lord Darth Vader stands before the lot of you, his aura pulsing and filling the room, making the very air thick. His helmet has an appropriately severe expression to it and his cape billows around him as he turns.

The commander and troopers stand straight as pins, their nerves radiating off of them. You feel as if you could be sick.

“What is the meaning of this, Commander?” the Sith Lord demands, his booming voice breaking through the oppressive silence.

Despite your intense fear of the outcome, you stand straight within the confines of the grip the troopers have on you. You hold your head high, despite the icy dread that washes over you in waves. Your years as a slave had taught you well, and you dared not show fear in the face of those who would subdue you.

The Commander swallows, putting on his best little soldier facade as he speaks before his master.

“A gift from the Hutts, Lord Vader.” the man speaks with enthusiastic trepidation. “They wish to show their loyalty to the Empire. They called her ‘The Flower’ of her home planet, for her beauty.” he babbles as he informs his master.

You subtly roll your eyes at the way the Commander sounds exactly like a used parts salesman.

Darth Vader stares at you for a prolonged moment, and you hate the way that you cannot tell where he’s looking. You stare back at him despite the sinking in your stomach, refusing to look away, to submit.

The rule of those in power was that of animals, those who submit die.

You knew that well.

“Send her back.” The Sith Lord commands plainly, and your heart drops.

Your ears ring as you hear the commander stumbling.

“S-Sir, I’m afraid we can’t simply ‘send her back’, she was a gift, and she-she, um.” he pauses to take in a shaky breath. “Her planet was destroyed long ago my Lord, if we send her back, she will be dishonoured and they’ll just kill-”

You jump slightly as the commander is suddenly cut off, literally choking on his words. Vader clenches his fist in front of him tightly as he chokes the man using an unseen force.

“Then perhaps you should have considered this sooner, Commander.” Vader spits.

The commander is rooted in his spot, turning purple and clawing at his throat.

Vader looks again to you, glued to the spot, pale as a ghost and trembling, and you can feel him creeping through the very life force within your body, tickling under your skin and flowing through your blood stream.

“Take her away.” The Sith Lord commands the troopers with a flick of his wrist.

The troopers drag you away, the sickening sound of the commander’s neck snapping echoing behind you as a tear slides down your cheek.

However, to your surprise, the troopers don’t lead you to a ship, or a pod, or containment. Instead, they unceremoniously dump you into a large and lavishly furnished Imperial suite, the door sliding shut behind them.

You spend a moment there on the carpet, wiping your tears and trying to calm your fear of the uncertainty before really taking a moment to look at your surroundings.

Still sniffling, you pull yourself together and get to your feet. You’re in a large room, darkly-coloured with ambient lighting throughout. The magnificent bed with silken, plush sheets of crimson is the centrepiece of the room.

To the right side of the bed there is a large window in the room, spanning the length of nearly the entire wall adorned with tasselled curtains.

Adjacent to the front of the bed is an entrance to a large washroom, equipped with both a soaking tub and a walk-in glass shower.

You’re shocked as you marvel at the luxuries at your disposal, revelling in the abundance of the suite. It’s like nowhere you’ve ever had the chance to inhabit before.

You waste no time in taking a lengthy bath, filling the tub with the salts and oils provided. The hot water does you well, soothing your aching muscles and your anxious soul. You can’t even remember how long it had been since you soaked, often being doused by cold water by your captors or simply being forced to bathe in streams.

You shudder at the memories.

You then dress yourself in the thick robes provided in your closet, and bask in the newfound comfort.

Nobody bothers you for the remainder of the evening, left with nothing but your thoughts and the passing stars beyond the window. You solemnly ponder your fate, curious of Lord Vader’s intentions.

You knew very well that he easily could have disposed of you the moment he laid eyes on you, which leaves you with a horrifying question.

Why keep you?

If he was keeping you, that is. You knew your life was not entirely guaranteed, but then why would Vader waste his time in keeping you for a night?

This is what scares you.

Never finding an answer that satisfies you, you lay in the satin sheets with the unnerving feeling that somebody is watching, creeping just out of the edges of your mind; close enough to feel them, too far to see.

In the meantime, Darth Vader sits in contemplation in the privacy of his chambers. Taking you in is undoubtedly an inconvenience, and he would have to think long and hard to find an explanation worthy of the Emperor.

However, for reasons he did not fully understand… he could not deny you. He had no doubt of your status as the Flower, the beauty of your homeworld, that was evident. What intrigued him however, was your signature in the force. He could feel your presence so acutely, piercing through him like the ringing of bells.

He had no doubt you were sensitive to it.

If this were to be true, you could indeed be quite useful to both he and the Emperor, given the implication that he could break you to the dark side.

He could feel your resentment, your anger, your lust for power; no doubt instilled in you by your years spent in torment.

So it was decided.

He would accept you, house you, mold you. And then he would break you.

Turning away from his window with purpose, he leaves to find a Commander to send a message.

As you drift into sleep, you feel the dark presence again, tickling at the corners of your mind, creeping at the corners and crawling on the ceilings.

You try your best to shove it away, but it’s stronger, more steadfast than you are.

Unable to push the dark presence away, you relent, pulling your blankets tighter around yourself and trying to ignore the uneasiness.

Eventually, you fall into fitful sleep, your mind full of dreams. For the most part they are very average dreams. Dreams of living an ordinary life, doing ordinary things. That is, except for the fleeting shadow that looms over your shoulders, or the piercing eyes you catch glimpses of in the darkness.

The next morning you’re left to sleep as long as you please, waking up on your own agenda for the first time in countless years. Dragging yourself out of bed, your body still tired from dreaming the entire night through, you rise and dress yourself in darkly-coloured robes and underdresses. As you brush out your hair, anxiety begins seeping back in. You still had no clue as to why you were kept alive, or if your life was even safe to begin with. No idea what would be done with you, and no way of escape.

After you’ve finished grooming, you’re greeted by a friendly droid sent to bring you breakfast. You eat well, offered a spread of toasted breads, honeyed butters, jams, and all manners of fruits and meat.

The droid speaks up once you’ve finished, chirping news at you.

“Lord Vader has requested your presence once you’re adequately satisfied, madam.” it announces cheerfully.

Your stomach drops at the thought, moving from comfortably satisfied to anxiously nauseous in a matter of moments.

Swallowing thickly, you part your lips to question the droid.

“Did…Did he mention why?” you curse yourself for faltering.

“No ma’am.” the droid answers to your dismay. “Lord Vader is exceedingly private in his affairs. I am afraid I am merely a messenger.”

Feeling yourself go pale, you nod slowly in response.

“I shall meet with him as soon as possible.” You concede, your voice barely higher than a whisper.

The droid throws its hands up joyfully, exclaiming its reply.

“Splendid! Lord Vader would like you to meet him in his private quarters, I shall inform him of your arrival!” The droid declares before abruptly leaving the suite.

Left with your thoughts, your mind wanders in circles. You wonder about the Sith Lord’s intentions, about what he will do with you. About if the treatment you’ve been receiving was just a penance paid for your impending death. You wonder about your fate, if this was meant to be your last meal.

For a short while you’re sick with worry. That is, until you remember your years spent under slavery. Those years in which you would have begged for the release of death; Those years in which you made peace with the quiet solace of oblivion.

It is when you remind yourself of this truth that you finally gather yourself from the table.

This is an opportunity, you tell yourself, and you dare not waste it.

After a short while, the droid returns to fetch you. As you traverse the sleek hallways with the silent droid, your ice cold nerves sink in. Your stomach twists in knots, becoming nauseous once again on your luxuriant breakfast.

The droid's artificial voice cuts sharply through the tense silence.

“I notice you’ve become pale, and your heart rate is increasing. These are common symptoms of anxiety.” the droid states in a cheerful tone. You chuckle slightly at the droid’s matter-of-factness.

“Yes,” you laugh. “I must be honest, I am a little nervous to meet with Lord Vader.” you give the droid the understatement of the century, and saying it outloud only makes the knot in your gut tie tighter.

“Not to worry!” the droid chirps “If Lord Vader meant to kill you, he would not go to the trouble of speaking with you first!” the droid attempts to reassure you. It does little to make you feel any better, your blood running cold from the words.

You spend the rest of the walk in silence, steeling your nerves. The droid stops abruptly at a large doorway, entering a combination into the keypad on the wall and stepping to the side as the door slides open.

“Here we are!” the droid chimes. “Lord Vader awaits you.”

The droid bows to you, and you nod your thanks to it before stepping into the doorway, the door sliding shut behind you.

Before you even step out of the entryway, you can hear the unnerving sound of the Sith Lord’s mechanical breathing just beyond, sending chills down your spine.

The room is large and open, covered in control panels and other strange technology save for the wall length window. You take a deep breath as you spot Vader by the expansive window, his back turned to you. The sight of him alone, broad back turned to you, dressed in his all-black suit and floor-length cape instils terror in you.

Here you were, alone in a room with the most powerful and most dangerous man in the whole galaxy.

Despite yourself and the urge to run screaming within, you pull it together and begin your approach. Holding your head high, you come to stand at the window next to the Sith Lord.

“Lord Vader,” you begin calmly before bowing “You sent for me?” you ask, hands shaking.

Finally, he turns to his left to regard you. The lights of the stars and the Imperial fleet beyond the window reflect off of his permanently scowling helmet, the unmoving coldness of its expression doing nothing to calm your nerves. The only thing that grounds you in this moment is the sound of the slow, deep breaths he takes.

“Yes.” Lord Vader affirms sternly. “I’d like to make you an offer.”

He catches you off guard with this, and you falter in reply.

“A-An offer?” you curse yourself again for stuttering, praying to the maker and straightening up as he turns fully to face you.

It’s only then that you notice how tall he truly is, having to crane your neck to look him in the face as he looms over you, heat rising to your cheeks purely from nerves.

“Yes,” he states plainly. “I would like you to become my sole personal servant.”

His words fall upon you with the weight of a thousand stones, your knees beginning to shake from the implication alone, threatening to crumble beneath the weight.

Never in a million years would you have believed what the Sith Lord just suggested, and yet there he was suggesting it.

At the same time, a flame begins to spark in your chest, ignited by hope. Your years as a slave taught you better than to refuse a good offer when you got one.

“As you wish, My Lord.” you accept loud and clear, bowing your head to him in respect, and gratitude. The part of you that is fully entrenched in servitude and the woes of it can’t help but become a bit excited at the promise of security as his personal attendant, while the side of you that remembers freedom feels a measure of guilt for relenting so quickly.

Still, your life was more important than the guilt you felt for agreeing to serve him. Anyone in your shoes would do the same, you were sure of it.

He hums in satisfaction at your response, nodding.

“Very well then. Starting tomorrow, you will serve me, and me alone.” he commands firmly. You only nod, looking up at him and listening attentively as he continues.

“You are to be at my disposal at all hours, save for when I command you to leave.” He states. While the idea pierces you with dread, you nod your compliance all the same.

“You will come when I call, whenever I call.” He iterates, a drop of venom in his tone. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.” you affirm as calmly as you can.

“In return, no expense will be spared in caring for your needs.” he replies.

You can’t help the warmth that grows within you at the idea. In all your years of servitude, never had anyone given a single thought toward your treatment. Feeling overwhelmed, your breath catches in your throat.

It feels too good to be true.

Here you were, thinking the droid was delivering you to your demise, when really you were receiving an opportunity countless others would kill to have. The opportunity for long lost comfort, the opportunity for power.

You say nothing in response, smirking and nodding like a simpleton. As he notices your enthusiasm, Lord Vader’s tone turns harsh.

“But do not forget, girl,” he hisses. “I own you.”

Feeling yourself go pale, you swallow thickly, looking away as a wave of dread and shame washes over you.

“If you betray the faith I am putting in you, if you disobey The Empire…” he emphasises darkly, before pausing. Although you’re unable to read his expression, you’re sure he’s staring straight through you. His gaze burns you like fire, and you can feel fear gripping your heart.

“I will not hesitate in cutting you down.” he growls, and you can sense his stone-cold sincerity. You’re frozen with fear, feeling absolutely foolish for being remotely celebratory, even if only internally.

Blood running cold, shivers down your spine, you default to what you learned in your time as a slave.

Without thinking, acting completely on something akin to muscle memory, you drop to your knees. Steadying yourself with your hands, you press your forehead to the toe of Lord Vader’s boot.

For slaves, this is an ultimate display of respect and compliance to their masters.

“Yes, Lord Vader.” you affirm, strong and clear. Vader seems slightly taken aback, stepping back and leaving your forehead to hit the cold tile flooring. Your cheeks go hot as you rise, hoping he understood the gesture as you stand sheepishly before him.

“Very well.” he speaks again after you stand. “Starting tomorrow, you will act as my personal attendant. You may go. Rest.” He commands, turning away from you once more, his attention going back to the galaxy outside the expansive window.

Overwhelmed and in a daze, you turn to leave in what feels like slow motion.

The trip from Vader’s personal quarters back to your suite passes you by in technicolor. Bidding you a polite goodbye, the droid leaves you to your privacy.

Shell-shocked tears slide silently down your cheeks as you plop onto the bed. The gamble of putting your life in Vader’s hands did not seem like a winning one, but you had no choice. The feeling is gut-wrenching, and tears flow freely now.

You just felt so god-damned confused, it was making you sick. The last 24 hours hardly seemed real at all. It was useless to wonder ‘why me’ because you knew the answer would not come, but that didn’t stop it from running through your mind on repeat. You once again mourn the life you lived as a free person, the old wounds bleeding once again.

Your life was not extravagant by any means, living as a local farm hand, but it was simple. It was simple, and it was easy, and it was peaceful.

On your home planet, you were known by the locals and travellers as the ‘Flower’ of your city for your beauty, kindness, and good grace. These traits along with the rumours about them were the sole reason you had not been on-planet when it was destroyed.

While your home was under siege, you were stolen and trafficked into slavery for your proposed “worth” to slave traders.

The years after that, you lived as a ghost in a life that was not yours.

And now here you were, selling your soul. A better person, a stronger person, would have chosen death over serving the Empire.

But years of torture had twisted your spirit, broken you. No longer were you that kind and graceful girl from the village everyone had known and loved. Years of torment molded you into something fearful, something hurt and covetous. And you hated yourself for it, though you had no power to change it. The part of you that now craved power, craved vengeance on those who had destroyed you is unchangeable.

Many years you had spent yearning to torment those who had stolen you, who had taken everything from you. Many nights had you spent dreaming of all the ways you would destroy them given the chance.

And now here it was, a chance dropped into your very lap. The chance to get close to the face of the Empire. Not only that, but Lord Vader himself guaranteed your safety. There were not many more of those who would be as trustworthy in that guarantee. After all, he was the strongest man in the galaxy.

Sniffling, you begin to wipe your tears. You had already agreed with Darth Vader, there was no point in tears now anyway.

If you were to do this, and you were, you were going to do it well.

Rising from your place on the bed, you finish wiping your tears and begin preparing for the days ahead of you.

That night is again filled with dreams.

You find yourself on a lush windswept hillside bordering the sea, the air fresh and salty as it blows through your hair and across your face. Blissfully you stroll along the cliffside, breathing in the fresh air. As you walk, you begin to see a cloaked figure in the distance.

Really, you sense him before you see him. His energy mirrors that of the sea below, mesmerising, tumultuous, and full of depth. You’re drawn to him, slowly making your way to the place at the edge of the cliff where he stands.

The sunset melting in hues of pink and orange highlights his figure against the horizon, and when you reach him he turns to face you.

You’re struck by his beauty, as if he had stepped out of a painting from the old Republic. His jawline is strong, his lips are plump, and he has a heavy brow with sandy coloured curls of shoulder-length hair framing his features. Yet the most striking thing about him is his eyes. They are the very same piercing, fiery eyes that had haunted you the night prior, framed by long cherubic lashes.

But in this moment, you felt no fear. In fact, you were serenely calm, sensing no malice or ill-intent of the man before you. He too, was very tall as you stood in front of him, having to look up to look him in the eye.

You both stand there for a long moment, looking at each other, taking each other in and feeling each other’s energies. You can see the compassion and empathy he has for you in his eyes as well as sense it radiating warmly off of him, as if he knows your life, as if he had lived it too.

All this, and you had never seen him before in your life. And yet somehow, it felt completely normal. As if you had known him forever, and you were just now remembering.

After a long while he opens his arm to you, beckoning you to join him. You follow without a second thought, coming to his left side and allowing him to drape his arm over you and pull you close as you both watch the sunset. His cloak drapes over your shoulders as he holds you, warmth falling comfortably over you with it. He smells deeply of leather, of musk and of burnt wood, and you breathe him in deeply. He gazes at the sea as you rest your head on his chest, in ecstasy purely from the simple act of human contact. It has been years since you’ve experienced the simple pleasures of being close to someone, and you savour every single moment. The tips of his fingers ghost over your left arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His arm comes up and he idly brushes his fingers through the soft locks of your hair as you listen to the steady thump of his heartbeat.

Being held by him felt like home.

As you both watch the cerulean waves crashing against the shore below, he presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head and your eyes flutter shut.

Credz:

Lightsaber graphic credit: @saradika

#darth vader x reader #darth vader x f!reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x f!reader #darth vader x you #darth vader x y/n #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #darth vader imagine #darth vader x female reader #my writing #sunkiller lullaby

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mapis-putellas · 2 years ago

Text

Let me take care of you

Pairing: Natasha x you

Words: 1798

Warnings: mentions of blood? Idk

Summary: Natasha has a bad solo mission, and it's up to you to fix up her injuries and make her feel better.

It was a little past four on a subdued, rainy afternoon when you hear the familiar sound of the apartment front door opening and closing.

With the knowledge that it must be your girlfriend, Natasha, returning from her two day solo mission, you turn down the heat on the stove before leaving the kitchen to go see her. It wasn’t often she went on solo missions anymore, especially not after messing up her leg a little over a year ago after a particularly bad fall, but director Fury was adamant no one else could get the job done as well as her.

It was a mission to retrieve a disc drive containing information on a critical government matter, and it required stealth and skill due to the amount of government officials involved. There were plenty of people capable for the job, as least that’s what you thought, but maybe you were just salty because you’d missed her more than normal.

You frown in slight concern when you see her still clad in her black widow suit, awkwardly kicking off her boots as she stumbles unsteadily in a futile effort to remain upright.

“Baby?” You question, stepping closer and placing a gentle hand on the small of her back. The red head startles at the sudden touch, whipping her up to face you. You couldn’t help but gasp slightly at the sight of the bloody, busted lip that greets you, reaching out to lightly graze the tip of your finger over the least painful looking part of it.

She gives you a pained smile as she finally manages to pull off her boots, stumbling forward into your arms. You were quick to catch her, a single arm around her waist as the other rises to cup the back of her head. Natasha’s hands seem to desperately clutch the back of your shirt, her trembling breath hitting the bare skin of your neck.

“It’s okay,” you murmur instinctively, craning your head down to press a soft kiss to her cheek, “you’re okay. Let’s go clean up, alright?” You murmur, and Natasha just barely nods, allowing you to bend at the knees before scooping her tired frame up into your arms.

Normally, Natasha would at least attempt to fight you. She’d go rigid whilst simultaneously voicing hostile words of disagreement. Stop that. I don’t need to be babied. I’m fine, and you’d roll your eyes fondly whilst telling her to just relax, and she’d comply, although she’d still curse in Russian beneath bated breath.

So when non of that happens and she instead falls limp in your arms, you knew tonight would be one of those nights. Where she’d leave everything up to you. Where she’d let you take full control.

No more than ten minutes later, you had Natasha sat on the closed toilet seat clad in nothing but a sports bra and underwear. Her body was littered with both bruises and scrapes, but those don’t seem to be bother her as much as her leg. The scar from her surgery stood out prominently against the pale skin of her thigh, and you lightly trace the pad of your thumb of the thick, raised line before leaning down to place a gentle kiss to it.

“Does it hurt?” You ask, looking up at her.

Natasha nods slightly.

“Bad?” You reaffirm, reaching for the warm, wet wash cloth you’d placed over the side of the tub before rising to your feet and gently cupping her chin.

She nods again as you begin to carefully wash the dried blood off of her face, and you notice her eyes become shiny with tears. Your heart tugs at the sight, because it was oh so rare your girlfriend allows herself to become this vulnerable with you. To show her pain and not hide behind a lie.

“I’m sorry baby. Will you take some medicine?” You ask hopefully as you toss the now soiled washcloth into the sink, reaching for the disinfectant and dabbing some onto her busted lip.

Natasha does no more than wince slightly, and you quietly apologise as you press your lips against her warm forehead in a tender kiss. She does however nod slightly at your words, and you knew then that the pain must be pretty bad.

The red head despised every single kind of medication out there and would often fight tooth and nail to avoid having to take it. She was somewhat okay with the traditional Tylenol so long as it was only a low dose, but anything unfamiliar was a no go, even when the pain eventually ends up reducing her to tears.

Even when she’d first broken her femur, the only way to get medication inside of her was through an IV and you’d better made sure she was sleeping. If not, she’d purposely rip out the line, and it took hours to convince her to let the nurse put other one in.

It was because of her past, you knew, so you never pushed her.

“What happened?” You ask as you place a hand on each of her thighs, trailing your fingers over the soft skin.

Natasha clears her throat softly as she places her hands over your own. “I jumped, and landed wrong.” Was all she offers, and you nod your head in understanding as you give the flesh of her thighs a gentle squeeze.

“Alright baby. Let’s get you showered and into bed, and then I’ll get you some medicine, okay?” You take Natasha’s hands and pull her to her feet, taking note of the fact she keeps the majority of her weight off of her bad leg.

“I need to take it now,” she murmurs as she clings to the material of your shirt, “otherwise I’ll back out.”

Nodding, you grab the medicine that had been given to her for her leg a little over a year ago and pour two pills out into your palm. You then hand them over; and Natasha only hesitates for a few moments before tossing them into her mouth and swallowing them dry. You tut at her in a light chastisement as you fill the glass kept by the sink with water, and Natasha rolls her eyes softly as she swallows down two large mouthfuls before handing it back.

You tip the rest of the water out and place the glass back onto the counter. “That’s a bad habit.” You voice your concern as you reach over to turn on the shower, checking the temperature with your wrist before hooking your fingers beneath the bottom of her sports bra.

Natasha sighs lightly as she brings her arms up, allowing you to pull the garment off of her. She watches as you toss it into the laundry basket. “I know.” she grumbles almost petulantly as she takes ahold of your shoulders to keep her balance as you tug down her underwear, giving her hip bone an affectionate kiss before returning upright. “It’s just easier.”

“I know.” you repeat her words with a understanding smile, placing your hands beneath her underarms to help keep her steady as you coax her into the hot shower.

“You too?” She murmurs as she leans against y the tiled wall holds out her arms, and you immediately nod your head as you wiggle out of your jeans and shirt. You could see that she was already becoming somewhat drowsy due to the strong medication in her system, and you weren’t about to risk her injuring herself further should you decide to leave her alone.

Not that you would ever admit that to be the reason. Natasha hates it when you worry about her despite the fact you’d reassured her that concern was normal in a healthy relationship.

You take ahold of her as you step into the shower, taking on the majority of her weight as her arms settle tightly around your bare waist. You cup the back of her head in response, fingers lightly combing through her damp tresses as your lips press tenderly against her hairline. You’d missed her so much. Her smell. Her voice. The feel of her body in your arms and the way she’d cling to you like you were her lifeline. You’d missed it all. And you couldn’t wait to take care of her.

“Alright baby. Can I wash your hair?” You ask as you break the silence, and Natasha does no more than nod her affirmative against your neck. You couldn’t see her face, but you could tell her eyes were closed to due to feeling of her eye lashes fluttering repeatedly against your skin. She was heavier against you now too, and you knew despite her best efforts to stay awake, she was slowly but surly losing the battle of consciousness.

Making sure to keep a supportive arm around her waist you reach for the vanilla scented shampoo and begin to coat it through her now wet hair. It takes two washes to rid the smell of sweat from her red tresses, but Natasha doesn’t seem to mind. She remains almost silent against you with the exception of her slightly hoarse breaths.

Man, you hoped she was coming down it a cold.

By the time you deem yourself done, the red head was barely holding on to consciousness.

“Okay, we’re done.” You ease her unsteady frame out of the shower and bundle her up in a large, warm towel, doing the same for yourself. You then take it upon yourself to scoop her up bridal style into your arms before carrying her into the bedroom, easing her down onto the end of your bed and kneeling down before her.

“Sleepy my love?” You question, reaching up to tenderly brush her wet hair out of her face.

“No.” Natasha grumbles as she instinctively leans into your touch, forcing her droopy eyes open.

“Okay,” you laugh slightly, the thumb of the hand still in her cheek gently grazing over the warm skin. “Let’s get you dressed and have some dinner okay? I made pasta.”

“Yummy.” Natasha murmurs with an almost dreary smile, and you smile softly as you lean up to press a gentle kiss to her lips.

Despite the fact your lips barely graze her own, she still winces in slight discomfort. Before you could pull away and apologise, her hand rises to cup your cheek, and your eyes flutter closed when you feel her lips brush against your nose. You return the sentiment almost immediately, the corners of your lips quirked up into a soft, endearing smile.

“Alright sleepy head, let’s get dressed.”

Nearly 600 notes on my touch starved imagine?! That’s literally insane!!

Is there anything you guys would like to see? I was thinking of a Natasha sickfic if that sounds good?

Thank you for reading!

#natasha romanov #black widow #natasha romanoff #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #soft natasha romanoff #tooth rotting fluff #marvel #reader insert

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a-killer-obsession · 3 months ago

Text

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 43 - Hide

Kaido happens.

Word Count: 3.2k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @iggy5055 @eyes-ofhell @luvnisstuff

You ran as fast as your feet could carry you, slamming open the castle door and doing your best to remember the route to your room amidst your panic. Dawn cried in your arms at the ruckus, and you bounced her gently in your arms to soothe her as you made your way to the window. You put her to your breast to distract her as you observed what was happening outside, a trick that worked wonders even if she wasn't due for a feed.

Outside you watched as the largest man you'd ever seen emerged from the hole he’d made in the ground, two large horns protruding from his long black hair as he addressed the three crews in front of him, a cloud of dust still billowing behind him making him look even larger and more intimidating. Kaido of the Beasts, strongest creature alive, one of the four emperors. What the fuck was he doing here, why did he fall, and what did he want? You couldn't hear what they were saying, but you watched as two captains bent the knee to the large man, and the other, your captain, stood tall.

You choked on a sob as a giant fist suddenly flew at Kid, knocking him and several others back. An all out brawl broke out, Kid Pirates overpowered two to one as they struggled and failed to fight back. Metals circled in the air as Kid forced himself back to his feet and prepared to fight, before the giant fist came down once again, this time coated in haki, and fragments of the large arm Kid had been building were now scattered on the ground. The captain didn’t get back up this time, laying limp in the dirt as the rest of the crew called for him. Tears streamed down your face as you watched them one by one be either captured or slaughtered, while the commanders tried their hardest to fight back, ultimately beaten down easily by the two devil fruit wielding captains and the giant Yonko. There was nothing you could do to turn the tide of the battle; you were powerful, perhaps even the strongest on the crew, but you weren't stupid. You couldn't compete against an emperor, and Dawn had to be your priority, the babe now falling asleep on your breast, entirely unphased by the horror you were witnessing.

The last of the Kid pirates were subdued, you weren't even sure if Kid was alive with the way Kaido was dangling him. Blood poured from his head as Kaido treated him like a ragdoll, hanging him by his good arm while the metal scraps of his other, usually held in place by his devil fruit, broke apart and fell to the hole below. Killer looked just as battered, you could see him slouched in defeat as his weapons were removed and chains were wrapped around him, but at least he seemed to be alive. Heat and Wire looked about the same way, chained together by long strands of straw by Hawkins, while Mohawk and Double laid unconscious nearby. You couldn't tell if either of them was alive, they made no sign of movement. A rival crewmember began dragging Mohawk to join a group of Kid Pirates being chained, while another kicked Double in the head, said something to a comrade, and left the navigator where he lay. You sobbed as you realised what it meant; Double was dead.

The rival crews began their way to the castle, no doubt to raid it. Your room was high up, which gave you a little time at least, but it was still highly limited. You had to find somewhere to hide, now. Hastily you climbed under the bed, holding Dawn close to your chest, mindful to not suffocate her in your panic. The dust under the bed made you wheeze, and you worried for Dawn's small delicate lungs, but there was no time to find a new spot as you heard multiple heavy footsteps in the hall outside. You cloaked yourself and Dawn, manipulating both light and sound to make the two of you mute and invisible, weary that Dawn could make a sound and give away your position. Not to mention it was hard to keep in control of your sobs, mourning your crew, with no way of helping them or knowing if anyone else was dead.

The door slammed open as the enemy found your room, immediately pulling open drawers and ripping candelabras from walls to add to their haul. “Queen's Quarters I reckon,” one voice spoke, “bet this is where the high bitch herself lives, where the fuck is the whore?”

“Kaido will want her,” another mused, “bet we could get a nice reward if we bring him the human weapon. I heard she can take out whole armies at once”

“Can't be that strong if the whore bitch didn't show her face out there”

“That's because she's got a babe,” the other explained, “let the whole crew breed her like a bitch in heat and had some freak baby”

“Fuckin slut, maybe we'll just take her for ourselves and put another baby in her,” another jeered.

You held your breath on instinct as one looked under the bed, despite your shielding meaning it wouldn't make a difference, and he frowned as he found nothing, continuing his search. Eventually they finished their raiding and left, leaving you to cry under the bed, too frozen in fear to emerge. You stayed under there until the sun set and rose again, crippled with fear, moving only to feed and soothe Dawn. Only when her nappy was too soiled to let her continue in that state did you find the courage to move, for her sake only, shaking with fear as you took in the ravaged state of the room. At least much of the nursery had been left untouched, pirates had no use for nappies and wipes, so at the very least you had a few weeks worth of supplies before you would need to resort to scavenging fabric for cloth nappies and using water to clean Dawn at each change.

The carnage outside was clear as you looked through the bedroom window. All three ships were gone, the only people left on the island now being the deceased, a mixture of all three crews, but mostly yours. You gagged as you watched a raven peck at Double's body, you would need to do something about the fallen soon or it would become an issue. The Kaido shaped hole remained etched into the ground, a painful reminder of what had happened that would be there for likely decades.

Taking the fabric Heat and Killer usually used, you strapped Dawn to your chest to set about figuring out your situation. You needed to find out how much food was left, any weapons for hunting or defending yourself till your crew could return to you, medical supplies, a den-den if you were lucky, and figure out what the fuck to do about the corpses growing rancid in the spring sun. You had your katana and dagger at least, having had them on you in case things went wrong, but they were no good to you for hunting.

First, you made your way to the kitchen. Both the kitchen proper and pantry had been entirely cleared out, only a handful of canned goods left behind, mostly plain black beans. The fridges were empty too, and the perverted pigs had even taken your breast milk that was being sorted. With that in mind, finding food became your highest priority. Without food, you wouldn't be able to provide breastmilk for Dawn, and she would be right back where she started. You had no formula on hand, you hadn't needed it since the first week, so the only can of powder had been left on the ship, now long gone.

With a sigh you turned to continue your search, gasping as you found yourself face to face with a large man.

“Double?!” You exclaimed. The ghost simply nodded, sadness evident on his face. “Fuck, I'm so sorry Double, there was nothing I could do, I had to protect Dawn.” Double shook his head and gave you a gentle smile, as though to tell you that he understood, then he beckoned you with a tilt of his head and a swing of his hand to follow him.

Quietly you walked behind the ghost, who was mindful of the fact that unlike him, you could not pass through walls. He led you to the room he had claimed as his, passing through the door and waiting on the other side for you to follow. When you hesitantly opened it you found his room just as ruined as yours, but he paid no heed, kneeling at the side of his bed and indicating that he wanted you to join him. You took a knee, and he pointed to the underside of the mattress, so you reached under the bed, feeling around until you felt something cold and hard. Leaning further to get a better look, a hand behind Dawn's head so you were mindful not to squish her, you pulled your find from its hiding place into the light.

“Double you fucking legend,” you exclaimed, wishing you could smack him playfully on the shoulder as you looked at the undamaged, well maintained rifle. You had no doubt that it would be the only weapon left on the island, and given Double led you to it he probably knew that too. He pointed again and you felt around some more, finding a box of matching bullets and squeaking in delight. With this you could hunt big game, you would be able to feed yourself, and thus feed Dawn, at least for a while. You could do a great deal with your devil fruit, but it meant nothing if you didn't have the energy to use it or the nutrients to form breast milk, and you weren’t sure you could take down big game without damaging too much of the meat with your powers. You looked up to thank Double, but he was gone, only fragments of light left in his place as they faded to nothing. You let out a heavy sob, pulling your knees to your chest as much as you could, given Dawn sleeping against your breasts, holding her tightly for comfort as you let out a river of tears.

Ghosts slowly surrounded you, but it didn't matter. None of them mattered to you, only unfamiliar faces in unfamiliar halls. You were alone, again, but this time with the added fearful responsibility of caring for a baby by yourself, after getting so used to having the help of so many others. You felt lost, afraid, lonely, helpless. As selfish as it was, you wished Double had at least stayed, but the two of you had never really been that close. His final act was no doubt the difference between life and death for you and Dawn though, something you'd never forget and never stop being thankful for.

You couldn't just sit here feeling sorry for yourself though, you need to do things to secure your and Dawn's safety if you were going to survive until your crew found their way back. Which they would, you knew they would, Kid always found a way. They'd taken him by surprise, they'd overwhelmed and ambushed him, but next time he'd be prepared. No stupid seastone cuff was going to keep your captain down, and then he would find the others, and they'd all fight together and get back to you. You just had to fight too, until they returned. You sniffed and wiped your face with the back of your jacket sleeve, pushing your mask up to get under the visor. It was time to fight.

Walking the rest of the castle, rifle in hand, you found the rest of the building equally raided and destroyed. As you made your way to the tower, you decided this would be the best place for you to take shelter. Being so high up it was the least destroyed, nobody wanted to carry shit down the long spiral staircase. Even less so did you want to pull shit up said staircase, but it was the most defendable point of the island, so you and Dawn would be safest there. You dragged up as many blankets and pillows as you could before tiring, pulling a draw from a cabinet to build a makeshift crib for Dawn instead of dragging hers all the way up. You laid the blankets over the floor to form a makeshift mattress, though to be fair it had been less than a year since you'd been used to sleeping on stone floors and thin foam pads, so blankets were practically a luxury.

You rested for a while before continuing on, dragging up diapers and wipes, a manually operated pump, the cans of beans, as well as a few spoons and a can opener, the rifle, a duffle full of clothing for you and Dawn, a bucket so you could do your business if you needed to, and several large jugs of water, thankful that the castle still had running water at all. As the sun began to set you let out a heavy sigh, feeding and changing Dawn one more time before laying her in the drawer, now lined with soft blankets, and all but collapsing on your sad excuse for a bed. If you found the strength, you would drag a mattress up at some point, but tomorrow would likely be spent dealing with bodies, so for the meantime this was it. When you had the energy you used your devil fruit to heat a can of beans, cringing at the unpleasant taste and texture of the unseasoned beans with every mouthful, forcing them into you for Dawn's sake, even if they made you gag.

Sleep didn't come easily that night, interrupted by night terrors and Dawn needing to be fed, crying each time as you awoke alone and longed for your lovers. You felt so cold with them gone, missing their soft breaths against your skin and the way their long hair would tickle you as you rested. You would do anything to hear their voices, to see the loving looks in their eyes and hold their hands. Fucking scum pirates, you knew you had reason to distrust Scratchmen, you'd kill him yourself, you swore it. You wept silently, so as not to bother Dawn, who by some miracle seemed to be relatively calm despite your anxiety.

The next day you awoke exhausted, unable to get back to sleep before Dawn inevitably woke up hungry. You fed her, changed her, gave her as much love as attention as you could despite your aching heart, using the manual pump to empty your breasts. You looked at the several ounces of liquid still in the pump, with nowhere to transfer it to since all your bottles had been taken by the raiders. Normally you would give it to Heat, or in cases where all your bottles were full, he'd just take straight from the source. It pained your heart to think of just discarding the white liquid, full of all the nutrition a baby needed to survive and so exhausting to make. You were already weary of how little food you had, so without a second thought you chugged the liquid down, the milk being thinner and sweeter than you expected, having never tried it before. It felt weird to drink something you produced yourself, but it was better than dumping it when you were already low on supplies.

With Dawn settled again after her wake period, you strapped her this time to your back. Quincy had taught you this method, but it wasn't as good for baby, so you'd never actually used it before. Today you would need it though, there was much work to be done and you didn't want your baby accidentally brushing against the rotting bodies of your friends. Silently you made your way down the spiral staircase, ghosts following behind you, giving little comfort with their hollow eyes. They never usually paid attention to you, but it was as though they knew you'd suffered a great loss, and were trying to give you company and support. It was creepy, to be certain, but it was nice that they were trying.

The bodies of those you didn't know were easiest to deal with. You dragged them by their limbs, using your devil fruit to build platforms of air pressure under them to lessen their weight, and you dumped their traitorous asses right in the big fuck off hole. Your crewmates were harder to deal with. Most of them were cabin boys, which broke your heart to see. Looking at them, you weren't sure a single young boy had been spared, brutally massacred and tossed aside, considered worthless by Kaido. You pulled their bodies to lay beside each other, closing their eyes and laying their hands together over their chests. You did the same with the henchmen, lining them up alongside the boys. A total of thirteen bodies, though thankfully none of your girls or the newbies you'd gotten close to seemed to be among them.

Last was Double. Moving him to begin with was difficult, even with your devil fruit, but eventually you were able to bring him to the line, leaving him to rest at pride of place in the centre of the lineup, between his friends and chosen family. You stared at his body for a long time, thinking back on your memories together, especially the soft moments in the crows nest when he taught you to use haki on bullets. He was quiet, but always spoke wisely when he did. He was a world class sniper, a loyal officer, and a skilled navigator. And in the end, his last act on this plane had been to protect you. You wished you had the strength to get his body to the sea, it’s where he would have wanted it to go, letting the sealife feed from him and becoming one with the ocean as he’s always hoped to, but it was out of your abilities to do. You were already at your limits, the last of your strength going to moving the bodies and making breast milk, weary of eating any more than the minimum required to keep yourself going in case you struggled to hunt.

Quiet tears streamed down your face as you walked the line of fourteen bodies, thinking of a memory you held for each fallen man, saying aloud their names and the qualities you admired of them, before taking a step back, and reaching out your hand. Your brows furrowed in concentration as you beckoned the atoms within each body to heat, wavelengths shortening and making the atoms move faster and faster, until all fourteen bodies suddenly burst into flames, superheated by your power and turning almost instantly to dust as the bright flames died and left nothing but piles of black ash and crumbling bones behind. The wind began to carry the dust, and over time nothing of them would remain, returned to dirt and sea as we all will in the end.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

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#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #killer one piece #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #heat one piece #heat x reader #kid pirates

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imawreck · 1 month ago

Text

Revenge

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Original Character

Summary:

Warnings:

Word Count:

Wanda-

I felt pressure against my shoulders, squeezing my arms and shaking me. It wasn't harsh, but it was persistent in its efforts to draw me out of the fog that clung to my mind. I felt like someone had put a blanket over me to muffle the outside world. There was a voice calling to me urgently through the muddled mess of my hearing. Ringing had begun its sharp shrill in my ear as I began to come back to my senses.

I was cold, and something hard pressed up against my back. With great effort, I pried my eyes open and blinked to clear the skittering shapes. Vision was leaned over me, his hands a gentle pressure on my shoulders as he called my name again. "Wanda, are you alright? Wanda!"

Finally the blanket lifted and I snapped back to myself, turning my head wildly to take in my surroundings.

Concrete floor and walls, the barrier I erected no longer blocked the hall. Pieces of it were bent out of shape and littered through the corridor. I was laid out on the floor, very much not how I remember being before those blue things wrapped around me. "What happened? Where's Ghost?"

Vision's shoulders sank with relief before he answered. "You collapsed and started screaming on the floor. Max told me to let her go or she'd kill you. I don't know how she did it, but she held your mind, Wanda. You started seizing and I had to let her go."

My hands shook as I lifted them to shove my hair out of my face now dampened by the sweat covering me. Like a movie, the images and screams began to pour in again and panic gripped me in a vice. "T-the things I saw, God, the blood. Pietro, h-he... he was there." I clutched my shirt, trying and failing to ease the pressure building in my chest.

Vision eased his hand up and down my back. "I'm sorry, but we need to move. Tony called in and said that Max has made it out to the location the helicopter will use to land. He's going to try and stop her before she can kill the Chairman."

"He can't. He-he can't beat her! I couldn't beat her!” Tears began to leak down my face, "There's nothing left in there to save."

_____

Tony-

"Friday, darling, please tell me you have something good to say to me right now."

There was bad news coming at me left and right. Capsicle had a run in with Max without Tin-man to help him out, Legolas wasn't responding and neither was Triple Imposter, and Vision just flew out the doors of the building holding a sobbing Wanda in his arms.

Absolutely nothing was going right and the whole mission was turning into a shit show.

"Yes, Boss. Max is currently within range."

I shifted my jets, "Brilliant! This is why you're my favorite. Dispatch drones to keep her in our sights. Make them cause her a little trouble but keep it gentle. We just want to keep her from murdering Mister Chairman."

"Right away, Sir."

I followed the direction laid out across the snowy terrain, taking note of the displayed imagery of a blood trail courtesy of Friday. Not far from the entrance to the safehouse was Max. She had a limp and seemed to be clutching at her side. A pang shot through my heart at the sight of her. "Friday, what's the best way to subdue her without causing any physical injury?"

There was a heavy pause as my AI calculated. "I'm sorry to say, Sir, but I don't think the team has the resources or the manpower to subdue a person this enhanced with what we have... There is no alternative."

I sighed, flying overhead as I followed her trail. I was closing in, which meant I'd have to make a quick decision.

"Drones are engaging." Friday pulled up a zoomed in image of the drones coraling Max in an effort to keep her from getting to the helicopter now landing in the soft snow.

I watched a drone fall to one of her knives, crashing into the ground in a small explosion. Another was quick to follow it but she was constantly having to move to evade the shots raining down on her. Max's face was scrunched in pain and she was looking awfully pale in all the shots Friday slung onto my display.

"Mr. Stark, the Chairman has made it into the helicopter and it is now taking off."

I turned, facing the ascending metal bird as it wavered in the sky. They just had to get out of firing range and the Chairman would be safe. I hadn't spotted any other weapons on her other than knives fortunately, so the Chairman and his guards had a higher chance of getting out alive.

A scream of pain had my eyes snapping back down to the snow covered valley. Max's hand was pressed against her now bleeding side, clutching at the torn fabric of her uniform as the last of the drones crash-landed into the valley along with the others. Her body was battered, and I could see her shoulders heave in gasps of air from where I hovered several yards away.

Panic ripped through me, "I told you to keep it gentle!"

Friday's voice was soft with apology, "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. Her movements slowed rather quickly and I was unable to draw fire fast enough."

I cursed, "She's lost too much blood!"

But just as I thought she would fall over dead, Max took off in a jog towards the escaping helicopter. She picked up the speed with each step, pushing her legs harder through the dense white terrain. The helicopter hadn't yet risen very high into the air, unable to ascend much farther into the clouds without the risk of losing sight of the harsh cliffs lining the valley.

With each forced step I watched her close in on the craft, a cry of anger echoing through the open air. I started towards her, sure she would lose consciousness soon with the amount of blood trailing after her.

But she kept going.

Closer and closer, clawing at the snow as she went with a vicious scream of rage until she was right under it. She crouched low and shoved up from the earth with startling strength and latched onto the step hanging off the side. I felt my breath lodge in my lungs as I willed my suit to go faster.

I had to get her off and keep her grounded. The helicopter began to spin out with the added weight of the supersoldier, and I saw the pilot desperately trying to level in the air. Max was hauling herself up and hooking her arms over the rail. I was too far away to do anything in time. I fired off a warning shot that had her flinching away for a moment before she was hooking her leg up and straddling the step.

I was just behind the tail, reaching out for her.

Her hands wrapped around the door handle and ripped it clean off the side, chunking it right at me. I had to fly over it to avoid getting cut in half. In my attempt to remain intact, she had thrown out one of the guards who was now free falling towards inevitable death. The Chairman was quick to follow with the second guard.

I dove towards the ground, "Friday give me some juice! I'm not going fast enough!" The jets on my suit kicked into overdrive as I shot towards the closest man, clamping my hand onto his arm. "Hold on and don't let go!"

I steered toward the next, grasping the Chairman by the ankle and unceremoniously handing him to the guard clinging to my back. The ground was getting closer and closer, and the screams of the last guard were one of a person who knew that death would call them today.

I tried to hasten my decent, tried to grab him by the arm like I had done his comrade, but Friday's desperate voice met my ears. "Mr. Stark, if you don't pull up you're going to crash."

So I pulled up and watched as the last guard hit the rock with enough impact to send the sound ricocheting off the mountainside. I felt sick as I turned away, slowly descending towards the valley and releasing the two men I carried to collapse onto the snow and weep. I slumped down with them, removing my helmet to suck in a breath of air as my lungs began to feel like they couldn't expand any further than a hairs width.

The helmet beside me crackled to life as the voices of my team communicated.

I was relieved to hear Clint's voice through the speaker after so long without an update. "Natasha is down, we're on level two. I'll get her up the stairwell, but we're going to need to get back to base fast. Max busted her up pretty good."

Barnes was next, sounding rather tired. "Steve's in bad shape too. We're almost to level two."

Vision's feet met the ground beside me with Wanda in his arms, "Wanda isn't well either. We should return and aid the Chairman to safety."

I nodded weakly, scrubbing a hand over my face to wipe away any stray evidence of the tears that began to well in my eyes. "Friday pull the jet around please."

"On it, Sir."

_____

Steve-

"You're going to have to take the next week or so off from missions. You've got to give that shoulder time to heal and your ribs too. Three fractured." Dr. Cho unwrapped the arm band with a quick yank on the velcro.

"How is everyone else?" I had seen Vision bring Wanda in and she had looked out of it. No one knew what happened to her.

Dr. Cho gave a grim expression. "Wanda experienced a severe seizure. She's sleeping at the moment so we haven't had time to get her side of the story yet, but Vision said it was something that Max had done to her. We don't have any details right now, but she's recovering well. Natasha had several puncture wounds up her torso and a broken leg. She will be out for several months to recover, but the punctures should heal up quickly."

I nodded, lifting a hand to massage my sore shoulder. Max had dislocated it when she'd slammed me against that wall. "Thank you for your help."

She nodded before turning away to flip through her clipboard.

The doors to the medical wing opened once more and I was surprised to see Rumlow stroll through the doors. No one on the team really liked him, but we all had to tolerate his presence as one of the overseeing SHIELD agents.

He gave me a cocky smile, "Hey there, Cap. How's the arm?"

I grimaced, "Could be better. Why are you here?" I nodded towards his wrapped arm. I couldn't recall seeing it earlier in the week.

Rumlow waved it dismissively, "I cut it while training. Painful as hell I'll tell you, and an absolute pain in the ass having to change the bandages all the time." He began to unravel his bandage while he spoke to me, wincing as the air finally hit the bare skin.

The wound was red and angry. It was long, several slashes cut down the inside of his forearm almost like something had been dragged over it. Rumlow lifted his arm to squint at something on it before he cursed, pinching at something and gently tugging it free from his arm.

He tossed it into the trash before he grabbed a new wrap from the counter a few paces away. "I hope you have a quick recovery Cap, you're in for a real ass-kicking from the higher ups for this rogue mission." With a mock salute, he sauntered back out the med doors.

My eyes traveled back to the trash can as the image of his marred arm flashed through my mind. It didn't sit well with me, the strangeness of the whole situation. I had never seen Rumlow in the training room here and I was certain there was no way he would've gotten a wound like that using the equipment.

Pushing off the exam table, I walked over to the trash can. There weren't any other items in it besides his discarded wrappings, but as I examined it further, I saw a small shard laying on top of them. I moved to one of the drawers, sifting through them until I found a pair of tweezers. I reached down and picked it up to examine it. The edges of it were jagged, and the whole of it was white and crescent shaped.

Then it clicked. This was a fingernail. I quickly shoved the shard into my pocket and left the room.

Why would Rumlow have a fingernail in a scrape down his arm? Where could he have gotten it if he was supposed to be monitoring us?

I had a sinking feeling it was far from anything good.

I pocketed the evidence and gave a quick wave to Dr. Cho as I hustled out of the med-wing. A couple halls later, I found myself in one of the labs. Banner sat hunched over his computer staring at some complicated formula I couldn't understand, letters and numbers all mixed together in a line. "Banner," I called to him, "I need you to look at this for me."

His chair swiveled around and a look of confusion passed over his face, "What?"

I dug my fingers into my pocket to retrieve the nail, placing it gently onto the counter. "I need you to tell me anything you can about this."

Banner stared at it for a long minute, taking glances my way every once and awhile. "Well, it's a fingernail..."

I sighed, pushing it further over to counter, "No. I know that, but I need you to tell me who's it is."

His features remained absolutely baffled as he pinched it between his fingers and prepped in on a slide. "This job is never normal. Why can't it ever be normal?"

Moments later, he had pulled out a microscope and settled everything in place. I watched in anticipation as he leaned over the lens and began examining my findings. Banner's face morphed through several expressions before he pulled away from the lens; surprise, concern, wariness.

"Where did you find this? On the mission?" His eyes met mine, crashing with worry and confusion.

I shook my head, "No, I found it in the trash can after Rumlow pulled it out of a wound on his arm."

Banner stared at me, mouth opening and closing, "I... the DNA isn't identifiable."

My heart pounded against my ribs, "The same kind of ‘unidentifiable’ as a certain someone we know?" The simple bob of his head sent my brain into overdrive. "If Rumlow was in contact with Max, why is he still walking and talking?"

"I have no idea. Max hated that guy. I thought she'd kill him when she wasn't brainwashed." Worry lines grew over Banner's forehead.

"We have to tell the team." I hesitated, suddenly very aware that we could be under someone's microscope. If Rumlow had been in contact with Max, chances were he wasn't on our side. SHIELD had been infiltrated and who knows how many others were walking among us. "Keep it quiet until I call a meeting, and keep this as far from Bucky as you can."

Banner nodded, scrapping the fingernail and digging through one of the various drawers under the counter.

I turned, b-lining for the elevator as fast as I could. I had to find Stark. Something like this, now of all times, is catastrophic if we don't handle it quickly and efficiently. The elevator ride to Tony's work lab only heightened my anxiety. By the time the machine leveled out, I was shoving the doors open to scour the room. Tony sat slumped in his chair with his eyes trained on the ever-updating screen in front of him. He hadn't stopped watching for any signs of anything.

"Stark," I started, "We need to talk."

Tony sighed heavily as he pressed his palms to his temples. "Not now, Rogers. I have to focus on this."

I grunted, forcing his chair around. "No, we need to talk." He opened his mouth to protest, scream at me maybe, but I kept going. "SHIELD has been compromised," I spoke lowly, "And Rumlow has something to do with it. I was with him in the infirmary and witnessed him pulling out a fingernail from a wound on his forearm. I took it to Banner for examination and he confirmed a suspicion I had."

Tony's eyes told me to spit it out, his body leaning on the edge of his seat with wide eyes and a flicker of hope in them.

"His findings matched Max's DNA," I breathed, "He's been part of this the whole time."

_____

Max-

I was numb. The cold had bitten my skin raw at my elbows, but I couldn't feel it anymore. I couldn't feel anything. Not the wounds I received on the last mission, or whatever contraption they had left on my spine. I didn't move, not even an inch. Air dragged in and out of my lungs, but they were shallow and jagged, barely there.

I wasn't sure how long I had been in the cage, not since I came to after the mission. I remembered bits and pieces of what had happened, but it hadn't come all the way back yet. That alone was a sign that I was fading quickly, both my mind and body. I wouldn't last much longer. A few days, maybe.

My stomach growled and I raised my hand to press away the pain, feeling my ribs along my side. I was so hungry. They hadn't fed me in days. My neck had burned as my pulse pumped slow and weak, the ache throbbing up to my ear and settling in the back of my skull as a constant companion to the cold. I had managed to press it into the cool concrete to numb it too, but I knew infection was on the horizon.

Somewhere behind the door, footsteps echoed. I kept my eyes closed.

I didn't have the energy to jump when the door slammed open and humming filtered through the room. "Hello again, little bird."

I was quiet, praying for release. Even if that release was death. Death was better than this, a gift I knew I wasn't worthy of. Perhaps that's why I hadn't been allowed it yet.

Giles's footsteps halted close to the edge of the cell. I could hear his heartbeat thumping in the silence. "Birdie."

I opened my eyes, vision still blurry as the lights bared down on me like the sun itself. I shut them again with a whimper. I had nothing left to give.

Giles sighed, "Useless. I send you out on a couple of missions and you're just a bag of flesh on the floor." His foot came in contact with the side of the cell, "I'll have to spend the next month nursing you back to health. Pathetic, really. What happened to sufficiency?"

I wanted to cry, to scream at him, but I could hardly do much more than open my eyes. My wounds had finally stopped bleeding a few hours ago and I feared moving would reopen them anyways.

Giles sighed again, shoving something through the bars and muttering something I didn't catch as he left, slamming the door. I pried my lids open to look, nearly sobbing at the bowl of food he had left and a small med kit. I lifted a hand, the muscles in my neck throbbing as I did so, and scooted the bowl over. It was food, real food. A few cuts of meat and some blended vegetable mushed under it. Tears hit the concrete as they dripped from my eyes.

I scarfed it down until there was nothing, but it did little to help my energy. I remained on the floor for what felt for several hours. I swept in and out of consciousness several times and when I finally felt like moving wouldn't result in a world of agony, I inched myself over to the med kit. The room had warmed a bit, and I was grateful for the small mercy. It took several minutes to get myself vertical against the bars, something clanging against them behind me and sending an ache up my spine. I had to force myself to breathe through it as I cracked open the kit.

Gauze, medical tape, and various ointments and sterilizers sat inside. No needles or thread, or a pair of scissors. Smart, not that I had the ability to use any of those now anyways. Slowly, I managed to clean the wounds. Everything stung, and there were a few times I nearly passed out again, but I held on. I feared I wouldn't wake up if I hit the concrete.

Once it was over, I felt like I could breathe just a little more. I sat there against the bars, closing my eyes and resting. I thought about the team, what they might be doing right now even though I had no idea what time it was or what day of the week it was either. Peter would be in school somewhere probably swooning over that girl he liked so much. Thor was probably home frowning at his brother he had told me so much about. Tony would be working on his suit with his bizarre music blaring in the lab. And Bucky... Bucky is probably with Natasha.

My heart clenched at the thought, but I could picture it clearly. He'd be on the couch with her in the common room, arm over the back of the couch while she tucked herself into his side with a grin. He'd laugh and shake his head as they played a movie. He'd be doting on her, asking if she needed a blanket or wanted a drink, anything to make her comfortable.

He would be happy.

_____

Tony-

That son of a bitch!

I sat in the meeting room with files strewn over the table, most of them empty for show, but a few held what we knew about current Hydra activity. After Steve had stormed the lab, we concocted a plan to intercept Rumlow and get him cornered. It had to be out of sight and away from the ears of SHIELD. It had to be just us and him.

I just had to make sure I didn't blow a gasket before we could get something out of him.

The plan was simple, make sure we didn't raise any flags and let him assume he's getting away with everything. We wait until he leaves and send a tracker out after him. He'd lead us to Max, or somewhere close enough where we can find her ourselves.

Steve had contacted Sam for his wings. We needed as many hands on this mission as any, probably more. After the last one, most of the Avengers were out of commission for a while.

The elevator tolled down the hall and I took a breath to reign in my thoughts and boiling temper. We needed this to work.

Rumlow smiled as he glided in through the glass doors of the meeting room, and as I took in his relaxed overconfident gait, I wondered how I hadn’t thought he was off from the start. Cap followed not far behind him, a grim expression on his face.

Rumlow pulled the chair out from the head of the table across from me and plopped into it, waiting for Cap to shut the glass doors behind him and come around to take a seat next to me.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” His smile grew a bit, as if he was trying and failing to lighten the obvious gloom in the room.

“We wanted to update you on some knowledge we came to discover on our latest mission.” Cap recites, just as we’d discussed.

Now, it was up to us to keep up a front.

_____

Bucky-

I trudged down the hall towards the training area, my mind abusing me with images of Max in various stages of mutilation. The lack of information or evidence that she had made it out of the safehouse alive weighed heavily on me. I hadn't seen her in the building, not even once, but the others had all discussed how injured she was when they had seen her. Each time she engaged with one of us, she came out with another wound.

And Tony had said she had lost a severe amount of blood in the debrief after the mission. None of us knew if she made it out, or if she was dead on that mountain, bled out on the rocks.

I refused to believe she was. I couldn't handle it.

By chance, my eyes dragged themselves from the floor and caught sight of Banner typing away in the lab just down the corridor from the training area. I wouldn't have paid it much mind if it weren't for the familiar white locks and striking blue eyes of the photo on his screen.

My feet stopped moving, and I felt my heart drop to the floor. Banner switched from his computer, typing on the document, before shoving his eye against a microscope. He did it once, twice more, before I shoved open the glass door.

"What’re you doing?”

He must not have heard me come in, too focused on his task, because he nearly fell from his chair. “B-Bucky! Oh-umm… I’m… I-uh—”

I grit my teeth in frustration. Everyone in the tower had been acting like they were treading on eggshells around me. I knew I was the last to know about anything with Max, knew that certain information was being withheld from me. They’d be idiots if they didn’t.

But my patience—my sanity— was a threads-width away from snapping.

I shoved his chair away from the computer, my eyes scanning the document and taking in his studies. Because that’s what they were.

Detailed in the document was not only Max’s health concerns but her genetic alterations. Records of every checkup, every injury, as well as their healing times and her overall wellness at the time. Not only that, but there was specifications on her DNA too. More than was probably necessary.

“Why’re you documenting Max’s DNA?” My voice didn’t echo any kindness. The barely withheld anger looming on the forefront of my mind. Anger at the situation. Anger at the team. Anger at my reoccurring failures.

Banner paled, “Steve brought me a fingernail to analyze. I-I was just—”

My heart sputtered as I made the connection. “Steve brought you Max’s fingernail. From where?”

He swallowed, then a moment of silence passed before I realized he wasn’t going to tell me anything.

My fists clenched, and the metal plates of my arm shifted in the silence. “Banner, you need to tell me.” I felt wild, and I sure I looked it too. My mind was running a mile a minute trying to figure out where he could’ve gotten it from.

Max hadn’t used her claws from what I knew, so she wouldn’t have shed them in the safe house. There also would’ve have been a reason to analyze it if Steve had found it there anyways, so why?

“I-I shouldn’t, Steve told me not to!”

Rage gripped me, consuming me for a moment long enough to bash my fist into the cabinets above his desk. They caved beneath the pressure, crunching under my knuckles and bending the hinges, “Tell me, or I swear to God—”

“Rumlow! Steve got it off of Rumlow.”

I waited, thinking. “Off of Rumlow?”

Banner nodded, “Steve said he had cuts on his arms, said he pulled it out of one of them.”

Click.

“Bucky?”

Fists clenching, roiling, seething anger. “Where is Rumlow?”

Answers, needed answers.

“I-I don’t know.”

Metal shifting, gripping, begging to choke but can’t. Too many eyes and ears.

Thoughts flicker to before, how he would ask the walls, “Friday?” Voice felt raw, strangled.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Where is Rumlow?” Hate curled, writhed, created violent thoughts.

“Agent Rumlow is in a meeting with Mr. Rogers and Mr. Stark in the main meeting room.”

Images, distantly familiar, flooded in. Knew where it was, how to get there.

Boots hit the floor, leaving the doctor in his chair. Wanted to hurt him, cause pain, but had to find her. Metal doors closed, and body swayed as it was lifted towards the target.

When the doors opened, eyes found the target. He smiled, talked to the two others. Names I knew but didn’t know. Familiar, but not.

Rage clawed, grew, at the sight of his smile. Glass shattered, as the meeting room door swung open. Fingers curled around his throat and squeezed, lifting him from the ground.

“Where is she?” The words were biting, accentuated by the heavy Russian accent. Jaw ached as it clenched, fighting to keep control. To keep him at bay.

Rumlow choked, eyes wide and snapping to the two others in the room.

Instinct kicked in, pulling a familiar weight into hand and slotting a bullet into the chamber. “Move, and die,” even with the confusing feelings roaring forward, the statement was true.

I would kill them, I’d kill them all.

Familiar blue eyes, blonde hair, moved forward but stopped short as the other planted a palm on his chest. “Don’t, Cap.” A grim look settled onto his face as realization took hold, “That’s not Bucky.”

I stared at them, trying to fight the nagging feeling of him as he tried to come out, tried to take over. “No, Bucky isn’t here right now.” The name felt wrong, foreign. Wasn’t mine.

I turned back towards the man struggling in my grip, squeezing ever harder but not enough to kill.

The man who’d helped take her from me. The man who’d touched her, who’d hurt her. The man who knew where she was right this moment, and what had been done to her while she was parted from me.

I would make him pay for every single wound marring her body. I’d make him suffer, make him feel every bit of pain he helped put her through. And I’d get the others too. Every last one of them.

I brought him closer, eyes wild in anger. “Where is My Beloved?”

Tags<3

@imdoingathingmom / @greatenthusiasttidalwave / @cjand10 / @greatmistakes / @calwitch / @hzdhrtss / @blackbirdwitch22 / @readawaythereality2

#angst #bucky barnes #winter soldier #fluff #marvel #drama #mcu #original character #fanfic #the avengers

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thoughtsonhurtandcomfort · 5 months ago

Note

Ooh Shrink Ray hours!!

Shrink Matteo and break his tail? Like in wolf form? Feel like it would be really fragile if it were tiny.....

Shrink Ray

Author's Notes: I haven't 100% decided what Matteo's werewolf form looks like, but he isn't just a regular wolf, they just call that form 'the wolf' as shorthand, and to separate it from Matteo, because he isn't aware of anything that happens during the full moon to the point where it feels like something else has taken over his body for the night.

Lol this got longer than I planned, thank you for this prompt, it was so fun!

Content warnings: tiny whump, werewolf whump, tail whump, broken bones, 'it' as a pronoun (referring to the werewolf form), painful transformation, back injury, biting

----

Dante and Matteo try everything to make Matteo's transformations easier on them both. Locked rooms and cages, shock collars and tranquilizers, you name it. Each one only provides a new way for Matteo to wake up hurt, sick, or traumatized.

Desperate, they turn to magic.

They find the shrinking spell in an old book at a used bookstore owned by a woman who they would believe survived the Salem witch trials. As they exit the store she gives the pair a knowing look that leaves them uneasy.

Matteo takes the concoction just before the transformation begins. As promised, he shrinks down to the size of a figurine. The modest room becomes massive around him; he barely takes up space on the queen-sized bed.

Dante reaches out to him hesitantly. Matteo closes the gap and leans against his hand. He gives Dante a little thumbs up.

And then the transformation begins.

The wolf is no less wild or reckless. It might be cute if it wasn't such a danger to itself and everything around it.

Being small keeps it from destroying the house in favor of destroying the room. Luckily it's a spare room, neither Dante's nor Matteo's. But all of the belongings in it that they hoped would act as distractions prove to be obstacles.

Dante watches in horror as a box of Philip's old trophies and plaques suddenly comes crashing down on the werewolf.

He runs over and hurriedly unburies it. The wolf is unconscious, whimpering softly. Its fur hides the damage but Dante knows there must be terrible bruising underneath.

The final object to remove is a heavy glass award that landed right on the wolf's small tail. When Dante lifts it the poor creature's whines increase in pitch and its breathing quickens. The tail is bent at an odd angle and some of the fur is damp with blood.

"Shh...it's okay..." Dante pets it like a dog, but that only seems to agitate it further. It snarls but doesn't wake.

Unsure how long it will stay like this, Dante takes a moment to examine the broken tail.

Broken is an understatement. Crushed is more like it. The tail is limp in his hands. A shard of bone protrudes through skin on one side, the source of the blood. Dante is relieved that the creature is unconscious; he hates to imagine any version of Matteo suffering this.

The wolf remains out all night. Occasionally it twitches, whimpers, or growls, but its injuries keep it subdued. Dante stays close until the elixir begins to wear off and the wolf grows back to full size. At that point he puts some distance between them.

Just before dawn the wolf wakes. It tries to stand, but then yowls in pain and drops back to the ground and whimpers some more. Dante watches the mangled tail twitch pitifully.

At least that will be gone when he turns back.

Dante is only half wrong.

As the wolf begins its painful return transformation, the tail does start to retract. But rather than disappear entirely, it becomes the lower spine of the gradually forming human torso.

This is the closest Dante has ever been for the turn back. The closest he has come to understanding what Matteo's body goes through. No part of him is lost or gained - only violently altered and reshaped.

Howls turn to cries and Matteo's face is his own again, twisted with agony as he writhes on the ground. Dante forces himself to wait for those sharp claws to return to hands before reaching for him. Matteo recoils at first. His eyes open and dart around the room, panicked. But when he sees Dante recognition dawns and he allows himself to be touched.

Dante eases Matteo into a sitting position and holds him. Matteo leans heavily into him, trembling and panting. His bare skin is bruised and hot. He tucks his burning face against the cool skin of Dante's neck and sighs.

While Matteo recovers Dante strokes slowly up and down his back with one hand. When his fingers reach the base of his spine, Matteo shudders in his arms and groans. The skin there is tender and bears the worst of the bruising. The tail is gone, but it left its pain.

"My back," Matteo groans. He grips Dante's shirt tightly. "O-oh god, it hurts so bad Dante, what did I do?"

"I'll tell you later. It's past our bedtime."

"I don't...don't think I can make it to the bed..."

"You don't have to worry about that," Dante whispers as he lowers his head. He brushes his lips over Matteo's shoulder, telling himself he's finding a spot, not leaving a kiss. "Let me handle everything."

"Okay," Matteo replies softly.

As fangs puncture Matteo's skin he relaxes. He gives himself over completely to Dante's care as if even now he is a small thing in Dante's hands, trusting he won't break him.

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enoughyi · 5 months ago

Text

#8: Bonds

Ship: Imelda Reyes x f!MC (Julia Wright)

Summary: Julia said nonchalantly, she wanted a quality laze. To think of nothing, dream without sleep, to gently weep and cry, mused. It hit Imelda, again, how intolerably poetic the minx gets when she can't sit straight any longer, let to alone waiting until the evening, but all Imelda could answer to her ask was, "Laze? Midday? Okay, fine".

Prompt Number: 42. Sated kiss. [>>>link to the list]

Word count: 1005. Rating: M.

Warnings: NSFW 18+. Light bondage. Erotica. Dirty talk. Edging.

A/N: It's brainrot-powered. Characters are in their 20's.

A tad bit inspired by the #6 and #3. Thinking on it now, I needed this one to be the 9th fic BUT alright.

Tags: @espressoristretto-patronum @thriftstorebabayaga @celestial--sapphic

Julia's frame was of bone and muscle; sharp-angled and sickly thin.

She was also pale. Easy to read colours of her scars, bruises, even her poorly hidden arousal, warm pink of her thighs and breasts. After an ask to doff everything and a demand to occupy one of the bed posts, hands raised and above the head, Julia obliged; she remained still since, limp against a simple knot secured both of her arms together.

First few times, when Julia was just curious, it seemed a lot like Julia did wish to test her own endurance or an ability to resist, but what? The question was yet to be asked, but Imelda sensed she needed not to be able to satiate a fantasy, to give it even a slightest touch unless it was permitted or not on her own volition. After the question had been voiced, Julia said nothing other than she felt oddly compelled to do something as reckless or stupid; in addition to mention she did also want something different from this little game or torture, either way Imelda was always up to cater to her quirky and peculiar interest.

Only later did she begin to understand it was Julia's way to express a certain amount of stress has been burying her alive for a while.

Freedom taken away from her body; Concentration forbidden by the very sigh of a much desired woman just before her but unreachable; Words gulped whenever she remembered her bedroom became her own trap, as her clothes weren't hiding a single strip of skin, lying on the stool neatly organised by her own very hands and magic. It was her idea, her design, her wish to be restricted life by a meter or two of a firm but comfortably sitting rope. Of course, a word of a negative could free her in a moment; she wasn't estranged from a non-verbal spell either. She just didn't want this. Her home, her woman, her wish.

And her crotch, in bliss, tingling and too annoyingly warm. It couldn't escape Imelda. Julia sat on thighs, trying to subdue it, paining herself with this pose; her eyes -- closed, but cheeks -- mantled in betrayal.

Imelda could leave her for a while; this thought was always buzzing around in her head. She could be blindfolded, but Julia admitted to become overstrung whenever she wasn't able to see. Imelda could go lower and place a gag over her mouth, yet. Julia liked a gag -- a chew toy -- only when going hard against her slit Imelda caused her teeth to grit. Julia hated to check on teeth. It pained her. If, instead, she could chew on something soft and springy, she'd choose that option; regretfully so, Imelda was never able to resist her a quality torture. At last, a collar, and its implications caused Julia to flinch; to cringe, if Imelda, absent-mindedly at her sight, called her a pet or a pet name.

"Ju-ulia," Imelda called. "Was it enough?"

"Are you…" Julia darted at her. "Why didn't you tell me you had something to do? Right now???"

Imelda smirked, "I asked, don't you want to lay down, but I can leave you here to soak and dry for me, if that is what you wish me to do."

Ten more years will pass but Julia's abrupt realisations will always remain a sight to behold, Imelda could swear. It always irated Julia. Her body, a second ago tranquil in arousal's bliss, swiftly tensed.

"No, it isn't it," Julia said. Imelda was ready to retort, and which every word spoken, sat closer to her, "But are you sure? You'll be needy. Crawling me." At the height of Julia's sit, Imelda told her, caught her gaze in her eyes, "You're not sitting comfortably anymore, aren't you."

"No…" Imelda caught her sharp breath with a short kiss; hands on Julia's both sides, moving left and right as she wriggled in the light embrace. Kissed again and again, shook, goosebumps ran all over her and shamelessly sharpened her little nipples. "Remind me," Julia whispered against Imelda's cheek, " why are we doing this… like this."

"Spread your legs.

"You'll feel."

Julia did as was asked. A finger quickly glided on her entire body to stop on top of the stiffened clit. It didn't went any further but the slightest of movements -- circles, back-and-forthing, press -- rapidly stung her, unable to shift away as held by a rope in place, firmly.

Braced her against the touch; her futile resistance no more than a tremble in Imelda's other hand holding her by the thigh.

"You like it slow, girl," Imelda teased -- and teased. Her other hand moved up, to fix Julia's head at her eyes level. "A bad girl enjoys a good spank, a good girl wants a praise, and a girl like you wishes for it all at once, but especially her little bud bloomless. It annoys you, doesn't it." Julia nodded. "My poor little plaything, and your," Imelda reached a little further, "oh, Julia, so wet. And no way of relieving that. Not a single one. Or did you think I will help you out? Think again."

"Oh, come one…" Julia laughed. "But I-- I admit."

"Admit to what?"

Julia swallowed and said, "If you continue to be such a bitch, Melly, you'll needn't me to have a conversation or a say in anything of this."

"What was it you were doing today, love.

"You hate gags. Or gagging."

For a brief moment, relentless tease changed to a warm cup of Imelda's palm. Julia breathed out, resting her head against Imelda's other palm, thumb stroking her cheek. "You… Don't want to know. But of this -- all this that is -- I want and need significantly more."

"All I need to know, you're already needy, and this I can resolve, on my own pace might I remind, my damsel, but," Imelda kissed her, deeply, lovingly, just to let her know underneath the tease was an honest desire to free her from feeling so laden, "just enjoy yourself, okay?"

#J. writes: own #J. writes: a short form / drabbles #imelda reyes #imelda x mc #hogwarts legacy #imelda reyes x f!mc #wlw #imelda reyes smut #J. writes: Kissy Throuple Stuff series

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ejzah · 10 months ago

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Collateral Damage, Part 3

***

Kensi woke up bound to a chair, confused and with her head aching. She was in a small room with an ordinary bedroom door, the only defining feature being a stack of cardboard boxes lining one wall. Kensi flexed her hands several times, testing the strength of the zip ties around her wrists and ankles; they were too tight to break in this position.

There were some holes, but she remembered questioning a witness, hearing a noise, and being ambushed by several armed men. She could only hope Fatima had escaped in the chaos.

She felt a little banged up, but it didn’t seem as though they’d beaten her, and she slowly exhaled in relief, wishing she could touch her stomach to confirm. Continuing to search the room for anything that might be of use, Kensi tugged more persistently at the zip ties.

A door slammed, followed by heavy footsteps. Acting on instinct, Kensi dropped her head, letting her body go limp a second before the door opened, smacking into the wall.

Someone, a man based on the movements, stepped into the room, walking up to Kensi, and she could feel hot breath wafting down on her neck. It took all Kensi’s effort not to react, and hope he didn’t investigate further. After another moment, he retreated, closing the door behind him.

“She’s still out,” Kensi heard him say and then a second male asked,

“What are we going to do with her?”

“I told Johnson we should have killed her there,” a third voice growled, and Kensi tensed.

“We can use her. Don’t touch her unless I say,” the first man ordered tersely, his voice growing distant as they obviously moved away from the door.

Once she couldn’t hear them at all, Kensi began working at the zip ties in earnest.

***

Sam left Deeks alone in the locker room to gather himself, heading back up to OPS. He didn’t envy Deeks current situation at all, remembering how terrified he’d been when Aiden was held hostage. He couldn’t imagine the terror of defenseless unborn children being in danger. And Kensi…Sam shook his head before he could spiral down that train of thought.

In the time Sam had been gone, Rountree was apparently hard at work; he had various street cams pulled up on one screen and documents related to their victim’s wife.

“You find anything yet?” Sam asked.

“No, but I just got started,” Rountree replied, flicking a glance over his shoulder. “How’s Deeks?”

“Struggling, but he’ll manage.” He didn’t really have much choice. He hesitated for a moment then added, “I don’t know that Deeks wants me to share this, but Kensi’s pregnant with twins.”

“Damn,” Callen muttered.

“Exactly. So we’re going to do everything in our power to make sure nothing happens to Kensi or those babies.”

Rountree nodded seriously, a slightly uncertain, almost guilty look in his eye.

“I hate to say this, but do you think we should bench Deeks?” Callen asked, and Sam huffed an unamused laugh.

“When has benching any of us ever worked when cases get personal? No, that would probably make it worse since Deeks would undoubtedly go rogue,” Sam said. “I’ll keep an eye on him, but he needs to be involved. He’s fighting for his family.”

“Ok. As long as we’re all in agreement.”

Deeks slipped in a moment later, looking reasonably put together, if more subdued than normal. Based on his expression, he’d guessed he’d been the topic of conversation. Clearing his throat roughly, he walked to the spit he usually shared with Kensi.

“Any update from LAPD or Fatima?” he asked.

“I was just about to go down there,” Callen told him. “You got it covered here?”

“Yeah. We got it, right Deeks? We’ll follow up on any leads Rountree gets,” Sam responded. Deeks jaw clenched tightly, but he didn’t object.

“Got it.”

“Hey Callen,” Deeks called out, stopping him on his way to the sliding doors. “Make sure Fatima knows this isn’t her fault, ok?”

“Will do,” Callen promised.

***

A/N: This chapter has everything. Angst, whump, mentions of people going rogue (yes, you should read this as Stefan from SNL).

#ncis la fanfiction #kensi blye #marty deeks #densi #Sam and Callen #Rountree #angst #drama #Kensi whump #collateral damage #part 3 #post series finale #ejzah fanfiction

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britneyshakespeare · 14 days ago

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one of my chickens all day was chillin out under the steps whenever i went out and i was like hm. well. ok. odd but maybe she's comfortable in the tight little space. i could still see her moving her head so i was like whatever. but then i went out around 8:30 pm w my dog for his last tinkle before bed and even though it was completely dark and getting cold, she was still under the steps. i was worried i had a dead chicken and that made my heart sink.

i went in to put dickens to bed and told my dad about it and he said "well if that's the case i'll take the body out in the morning" but honestly. ok well i have to be so honest when i worry about my chickens like this, late at night, it's horrible for my peace of mind. i've had incidents where chickens are doing smth questionable late at night and it would certainly ruin my sleep to go to bed thinking about my poor girls being sick or dead. but i had to have certainty. i had a bag of lettuce that was starting to wilt anyway that i was going to give to them.

so i went out there and poured it out and she didn't come out. all the other girls did and started eating. i lifted the ramp and she was still alive under there, but she did not move. i tried to push her a little and see if maybe she was on an egg? she hasn't started laying yet and she could be a brooder. we've had hens lay their first eggs outside the coop before. no egg was under there either. but as i tried to get her to move towards the lettuce she was like... not taking it. she wasn't letting me pick her up but she seemed to be injured.

so i put her in a little corner and crouched down and started giving her some lettuce from my hands, and put a little pile in front of her to pick at as she willed. i kept the other girls away from her and gathered more of the scattered lettuce and she was eating at her will a little. if she flicked a piece a little out of her way, i pushed it towards her again so she could get it wo straining herself. you know. a little tlc.

after she had eaten a fair amount of lettuce i picked her up and placed her inside the coop proper, because obviously i couldn't depend on her to get in there herself, and it was too cold for her to be out there all night. it was literally hailing this morning. it's almost november. she still wasn't walking around much inside the coop, but by picking her up i did sort of fiddle w her legs and wings to see what it was she was still reacting to. i can't tell you there's any part of her in particular that is not injured (other than her head and maybe her left wing), but her left foot seems to be particularly the problem. if the right one isn't also injured, then it's not strong enough to support her to limp around much.

so once i had her in the coop, i stood from the outside to lift her up and bring her to their waterer. our waterer is set up so they have to be either standing or perched somewhere to really reach it and drink, and you know, she must not have had any water all day. she understood what i was doing and seemed to be more comfortable w me lifting her up now (not that she had any choice in the matter, but her expressions were a little more subdued now bc i clearly meant her no harm at this point). i let her drink and drink until she seemed pleased. but oddly she didn't seem to have the same reaction when i lifted her towards the chicken pellets. so i put her down on the ground and put a pile of chicken pellets in front of her; she ate that way. it was good. i said i love you beauty goodnight and left and updated my dad that she was not dead, just injured.

i feel like a saved a life in some way because i know if i had not seen her there and checked on her that she couldn't likely have lasted the night; if not that, then how long could she live without getting out from under the steps? idk it's just horrible to see her hurt so badly but it does feel... wonderful, in a delicate and sensitive sort of way, to help a living thing in such a desperate state. i am worried about her. i checked on her again before their nightlight was set to go off at 10pm to see how she was doing; she had moved from her spot somewhat but she was clearly still not walking well. idk.

i hope she rests well and i'm glad i got her to eat and drink and sleep inside where it's warm. i don't know if her injuries are something she'll heal from; i'll obviously have to check how she's doing tomorrow morning and in the evening when i get home from school. if she's able to be somewhat a little bit mobile now, that might bode well? i don't know if the other hens will bully her if they see her in a vulnerable state though. i really worry about that. and if she doesn't heal or heals very slowly, that could be really bad for her. i don't mind the idea of having a disabled chicken, since animals dont really care if they have disabilities like a limp or something. she's domestic and they're not even free range so it's not like she's a weaker prey for predators to get at or smth. really it's only her sisters who could make this worse for her if they feel like being awful.

i don't know how she might've gotten injured; we've never had an injured chicken like that before. how would she have broken her leg? or legs? or maybe also wing(s)? might she have been crushed underneath the steps somehow? or did she waddle over under the steps to where her sisters couldn't go and peck at her for not moving?

idk. idk. i'm worried but i do feel good to have found her and helped her. she's much much better just for being revitalized w food and water and a warm coop.

#tales from diana #chickenposting #i will update you guys i suppose #i hope this doesn't end sadly :(#i'm ok helping her tomorrow and other times this week when i'm able if i have to #but obviously if she can start to get around on her own that matters a lot more...#i feel good to have shown her my love and care and to have had it accepted by her #it feels joyous to perform an act of genuine altruism to a life in need #and i love her :( she is my girl #i want her to be ok... she's just a little baby #we got her in july #she's still pretty small #and she's so so cute #diana loves u baby

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ervotica · 10 days ago

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pretty little bird

vampire!azriel x fem!reader – blood, feeding, rhys watches (more on him soon!). approx. 600 words.

Azriel's ears perk at the shuffling of bare feet in the next room, both his and Rhysand's heads turning curiously as you stumble into view, eyes teary.

You're rather akin to a newborn deer, unsteady as you creep on the balls of your feet, shivering and cradling yourself for comfort.

Rhys doesn't think he's ever seen Az soften with such urgency, his steely countenance turning on its head as that first fat tear rolls over the swell of your cheek.

"My angel," he coos. "Come to me, baby."

You seem to hesitate, but you're quickly enticed closer by the roaring fire at the edge of the room, lulled into his arms without much protest at the crackling promise of warmth. Hues of gold and orange split into dappled rays that climb the expanse of Azriel's bare chest, the milky skin stark against the dark of the sitting room. It's an incentive for you to venture closer, a reward for spending your days shrouded in cold and darkness with this creature that calls you mate.

Rhys quirks a brow. "Who's this?"

It's as though those two words have set every fight response Azriel's body possesses alight, his temper flaring; a growl rumbles through him, his grip tightening as he snatches you up to his chest as though somebody will attempt to steal you away. Rhys lifts his hands in surrender.

"She's mine," Azriel snarls, baring honed canines. "Mine."

You go soft, submitting in an attempt to placate the vexation that crawls through his every vein like molten lava. Your head spins, fatigue weighing down your every limb as though they're filled with molasses. He grazes the edge of a fang along your pulse point. Just enough to break the first layer of skin.

He watches the drop of blood well, ooze and drip, settling in the hollow of your throat.

You sniffle, stomach flipping. He knows what you want; he just enjoys the desperation lacing your tone. You need the release of the feed as much as him. "Please."

Onyx strands of hair sweep over his eyes as he dips his head low to flatten his tongue across your throat, humming lowly at the tang of copper that bleeds over his tastebuds. He nudges your jaw with the tip of his nose.

"So polite, little bird," he hums. "Lean on me, baby. Az has you."

You hiccup, pushing closer into his space. A scarred hand brushes the hair from your throat, fangs entirely unsheathing as the tips of his teeth pierce your tender flesh.

You whine and thrash like a wounded prey animal, but you're quickly subdued as his venom seeps into your bloodstream. Euphoria bursts behind your eyelids, skin buzzing with the high that a feeding always brings you.

The other male's voice is muffled as though your ears are wadded with thick cotton. You sigh when Azriel slips his arms beneath your shoulders and hikes you upward with frantic urgency as he takes longer, dragging mouthfuls, squeezing as though the blood will pour from your wounds more rapidly.

"Az, you should stop. You'll kill her if you feed for much longer."

Azriel pulls away just enough to pant and growl, "She's fine."

The twin puncture wounds pulse and gush when Azriel tilts his head to watch his brother, irises entirely engulfed by inky darkness.

Your head drops, limp against his shoulder. Your limbs are flooded with warmth, body heavy like treacle and sated with the venom that twines around your veins like ivy, burrowing beneath your skin. Azriel's tongue flattens against your throat to clot the blood, sealing your seeping punctures.

"Shall we get you to bed, pretty bird?" he coos, mouth tilting upward blissfully. Your nose scrunches and you mouth at the bare skin as his silk shirt falls away from his form.

You're simply too tired to open your eyes, or protest, or even respond.

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zia-zee-bee · 18 days ago

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The Auction(Part Two)

CW: human auction, hypnosis, chains

Miss Edith gently shakes Miles’ shoulder, and the boy blinks his eyes open. When had he fallen asleep? He was in a small, dark room, and Miss Edith was already clasping Miles’ limp wrists into large chains. The link was being fitted through a long metal pipe that was higher up in the room. It went through the door, like it was made for Miles to walk next to while still chained.

Miles blinks slowly. That’s probably what it’s made for. He thinks drily. He was on his knees, the dress pooling around his legs, and his brain was foggier than usual, like it was full of molasses.

“Don’t mind it,” Miss Edith whispers in his ear as he yawns. “That’s just so you don’t think too much.”

That makes sense. Miles looks up at the vampire with dazed eyes. I don’t want to panic like what happened after Miss Agathe. Miss Edith’s so smart.

And if a little part in the back of his mind protested, the molasses soon covered that and everything was alright. A faint vroom started, and the pole his chain was connected to started pulling him along. His knees slid on the ground, and Miles just blinks.

“Alright, you’re scheduled for last, so we just wait for everyone else,” Miss Edith says as they start leaving the room, which had a curtain for a door. “You should be bought by sunrise.”

I want to see a sunrise. Miles thought dimly, letting his knees slide against the smooth floor. He was sitting on the back of his calves while leaning forward a little, the chains on his wrists were pulling him down the darkly lit hallway. It seemed to be empty, but Miles heard the sounds of an audience clapping and someone speaking into a microphone, muffled by the walls between them.

Miles was completely content not doing anything, eyes almost closed and body relaxed. Every few minutes Miss Edith crouched down and used a hanker chief to wipe spit that had slipped out of the corners of his mouth, but he didn’t notice.

He was almost asleep when the chain stopped, and Miss Edith adjusted it so it was tighter, so Miles was forced to stand unless he’d be hanging.

“Last but definitely not least, a doll thrall who was conditioned by none other than Miss Edith King!” A male announcer said somewhere past the curtains.

There were applause, then Miss Edith was whispering in his ear. “Walk slowly until I say so.”

She pushes him forward, and he stumbles through the curtains with her right behind him. Lights were shining down on him, blinding him for a few moments, but he tries to walk just like Miss Edith said. It was more of a stumble, he was dizzy.

“The thrall is fresh, only twenty,” The male announcer was saying. “Incredibly easy to subdue, willing and happy to do any chore, or stay still and look pretty!” There were applause again.

He was on a white runway stage, vampires all around him, staring at him hungrily. He continues to stumble, getting to the front of the stage.

“Stop,” Miss Edith murmurs, kicking him in the back of the legs, and he almost falls to his knees before the chains catch him. It holds him up, tight medal on his skin, but he lets his head loll forward.

“The bid will start at ten grand,” The announcer says from his podium. There were vampires barely two feet in front of Miles and below the stage, and he dazedly make eye contact with one, who licks their lips. “Do I see— Yes, first bid with Miss Charlotte at ten grand. Can I have eleven grand? Eleven gran— yes, Miss Agathe. What about twelve grand— Sir Ethan, yes, I see you. Can I have—?”

Miles tunes the words out, scanning through the crowd. Paddles with numbers pop up all around the room, but as the numbers get higher and higher, they begin dwindling to just a few.

He feels someone grab the edge of his skirt, and looks to see a vampire trying to lift it. Miss Edith stomps on the hand, and it disappears into the crowd. Miles yawns, his feet gently tapping the floor from where they lie half in the air.

“Miss Agathe, with twenty five grand,” The announcer was saying, and Miles lightly frowns. He doesn’t want Miss Agathe to buy him, she’s mean and scary. “Do I have— twenty six, thank you, Miss Charlotte. Twenty seven? Twenty seven—? Yes, Miss Agathe, there you are.”

The numbers kept growing, and Miles started to get nervous. What if Miss Agathe buys him? She’s so cold, he wants someone nicer—

Miss Edith’s hand strokes through his hair and his thoughts melt into a puddle. The nervousness fades away so all that’s left is mind numbing relief and satisfaction. He’s going to be such a good thrall to whoever buys him, and they’ll be a good master! He can’t wait until he’s safely in his new home.

“Thirty five, thirty five from Miss Agathe, do I hear a thirty six?” Miss Charlotte looks at Miss Agathe and laughs mutedly, shaking her head.

“SOLD! To Miss Agathe Alarie!”

The chains above him start to move again, and he’s soon brought back stage again like a cooked chicken hung on display— about to be eaten without a little care in the world.

Part 5 <<< Part 6 >>> Part 7

#vampire enthrallment #vampirism #vampires #creative writing #whump writing #miles oc #miles reed #edith king #agathe alarie #the v/h records

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unknownjpegs · 10 months ago

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capture

They’d usually leave these ones alone. SAS soldiers aren’t to be fucked with, and it’s more trouble than it’s worth to get information out of them. One, because they’re trained well and nobody’s got the fucking patience to bother, and two because they’re a bit more protected than other groups. Just as expendable as everyone else, of course, but a special forces trooper is more likely to draw attention than some no-name, nondescript merc kid gone missing.

But sometimes, exceptions are made. When a group of KorTac guys, bloodied and limping with busted-lips, bring in the kicking and.curse-spitting SAS medic, Bunny asks König what that particular exception had been.

In his careful, precise accent: “Knocked a few teeth. Being fucking annoying. Does not shut up.”

Mouse will relate to her later that he’d gone up against three operators, broken a tibia with a nasty, sneering stomp and crimson-streaked grin. That it had taken König’s hulking strength to get him in any sort of subdued state to bring in.

Seem way too into that leg crush, Bunny tells her, pointing with her smoldering cigarette.

It was, Mouse offers, fingers clasped under her chin and eyes bright with recollection, so disgustingly cool. He also broke four of Smith’s ribs!

He gets roughed up a bit for the attitude, for the damage he’s done, for some pointed, filthy comments made towards certain familial members.

Then they bring Bunny in.

Not because she’s any good as an interrogator. Most of the time, KorTac’s got her cozy in an office on base, pouring over documents and using her experience with certain government entities and the British Army to glean info. Bunny gets paid real handsomely for it. Enough that she only feels a bit guilty for the fight she’d had with a particular lieutenant when he discovered her sneaking away one night.

Mercenaries, Buns? Are you fucking kidding me? You’re setting yourself up to be a domestic terrorist. You’re gonna be on wanted lists, and we’ll have to — Jesus. Have you absolutely lost your goddamn mind? Have you gone full mental? Yeah, you have. You have gone full fuckin’ mental.

Call me, Bunny had said with her finger and thumb to her ear, and was gone.

He’d let her go.

So they bring her in because he’d been found with a paper in his pockets. And Bunny is good with mysterious papers.

“Could be coordinates,” König told her as she entered, handing her the paper. “Could be orders. See if he will tell you which one. Or see if you can figure it out, yourself.”

“And if he doesn’t tell me?” She quirks an eyebrow, looking from the scrawled symbols and letters up at him. “What if he gets out of those zipties and bludgeons me half to death like he did Smith?” She bats her eyes at him.

König huffs in a way that tells her he’s grinning beneath the hood, and claps a hand to her shoulder. “Then Mouse and I will be right outside with a gun and a big knife, and we’ll avenge you.”

Bunny rolls her eyes at him. “Thanks, big guy. Very comforting.”

He’s knelt on the the ground when she goes in. There is blood splattered on the floor in a circle surrounding him, a split in his lip and another across one thick eyebrow. It’s quirked, but his eyes are steely and cold as they follow her around the room.

“You’re not a soldier.”

Bunny glances down at herself; button-up shirt and suspenders, dark khakis, sensible loafers. “Fuck, they are training a perceptive new generation, aren’t they?”

His eyes narrow, but his mouth twitches as if he wants to grin. Gotcha, Bunny thinks. Mouthy kid. Of course you respect a little bit of shit talk.

“Wouldn’t know. Don’t keep up with the training, nowadays.”

“Uninvolved, huh?” Bunny slips her arms over her chest. She tries to slip another needle past the ill-tempered, fast-mouthed medic’s armor: “Feeling disillusioned in the military industrial complex?”

She’s not fully expecting it to work. She is certainly not expecting the wild, sudden chuckle she earns for it.

“Honestly, ma’am? You nailed it. If m’honest, kinda wanna get home at this point,” the medic says. His monotone is nearly bored, tinged with a snide clip of indignant, grumpy annoyance. As if he’s not trussed up and sporting a nasty, reddening bruise on his swelling cheek. As if his capture is simply a tiny, pesty snag in an otherwise pleasant day.

Bunny likes that. What she doesn’t like is —

“No ma’ams please, thanks.” She leans back against the table, head tilted. A tingle of recognition zips across her vision.

“Wait. Hold on.”

“Bit of déjà vu?” The soldier offers, lips quirking. “Yeah, same. You —”

“You look familiar.” Her eyes narrow, and then widen on a laugh. “Oh Jesus Christ, you know Simon.” She grimaces, remembering the circumstances of their first encounter and her swirl of annoyed dismay at Simon’s persistently immoral letching. “Ew. You know Simon.”

His eyebrows shoot up, disappearing into the sweaty, dark curls. “Simon. M’gonna guess from that, y’know him too.” He is literally tongue-in-cheek, mouth in a full, knowing smirk. I know why you know him, and you know why I know him.

“What a small fucking world.”

Bunny snorts. “Not really. He’s just been through the entirety of it.” Her arms unconsciously drop, heels on the table either side of her hips. “What’s at home?”

The soldier laughs again; a barking, loud sort of thing that seems yanked from him. He settles back on his heels, the tense posture dropping to mirror her relaxed form. He shoots Bunny another one of those grins, edged just so with filth, and she could roll her eyes — probably this exact expression that had caught Ghost’s attention in the first place.

“Tall redhead.” He intones, somehow severely serious and suggestive at the same time. “Screen addiction and got a sense of humor that’s pure shite. But nice eyes.” His crooked grin twists. “Big fuckin’ —”

“All right,” Bunny interrupts, both palms up. She finds it very hard to control her own smile. “Okay. Fair.”

And it’s funny, because that’s exactly the type of information they’d need for torture. He’s offering up a hand of cards for them to play. Somebody at home, point of vulnerability to stretch and mold like clay? That’s a weak spot, right there. Usable. If she wanted to, she could call König back in and have him knock a few of the guy’s teeth out. Threaten to do the same to his vulnerability.

Except something tells Bunny that won’t be necessary. So she nods her head and offers a hand signal. Outside the tent, König’s hulking six-something shadow shifts, relaxes. Steps away, rifle dropping from the position it had undoubtedly been in, aiming dead-center on the medic’s chest.

“What’s on the paper?” She pats over the table for the yellow lined notebook page, waves it in the air.

His cheeks color a bit, ruddy wash over brown skin. Those engaged, disciplined dark eyes go suddenly loose, bouncing away into every corner of the room except the one she occupies.

“It’s not intel.” He sounds sheepish.

“Usually that’s what people with intel say.”

“It’s not.” He insists. “It’s — fuckin’ hell.” Shake of his head again, curls bouncing. “Embarrassing.”

She lifts a brow. Go on. Embarrass yourself. It’ll entertain me.

He sighs, steady gaze on the ceiling. “We’re bingein’ some YouTube stuff about Cold War codebreakers, and it’s real dull,” he inclines his head at her little glare, “Hey, sorry. No offense, if that’s what you do, but it is. So he gets bored, yeah? Starts fixatin’ on doing a code for himself, right, and so that paper’s this dumb little note for me and it —”

“God,” Bunny says, “They were right. You don’t shut up, and also I do not fucking care.”

She gets his wrists and ankles untied with her pocketknife — gift from Mouse — because she wants to get rid of him. Not because she’s immediately fond or anything.

“You should probably,” she says, stepping back to give him space to stand, “be more careful not to get captured anymore. Especially if you want to get home safe so bad. Kinda the wrong career if that’s the case. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yep,” he chirps as he gets to his feet. She’s surprised to see he’s much smaller vertical. “Last hurrah I’m on the hook for, this time’ round.” Pats his side. “Last bit before I get my med discharge cleared. Then I’m out, and, y’know.” He shrugs, dazzles her with a full grin. “Home.”

“Home.” Bunny says, head tilted, and then offers a sneering snort. “Christ. That is embarrassing, you know that?”

“Yeah, whatever,” he responds, rolling a stiff shoulder and extending his arms out. The shakes his hands, cracks a few knuckles, and stretches his fingers in a series of movements that seems more habitual than helpful. “Benji, by the way. Didn’t get a chance, last time.”

Benji sticks his hand out. Sage green SAS gloves, muddy and blood-stained from being thrown around in the dirt and fighting. His brown fingers are warm when Bunny takes them in hers, pumps once.

“Dr. Bunny Sullivan,” she offers, and gives him a warning look when something cheeky slips across his face. “No comments on it, please.”

“Boss,” he says. “Want me to say hi for ya, Dr. Sullivan?”

“To Simon?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck no,” Bunny barks out a laugh and pats him on the cheek. “Fuck no. See you around.”

König, confused but acquiescing to Bunny’s request, gets him an escort out of their territory. And then Bunny’s new favorite empty-headed SAS soldier is loosed unto the world once more.

“He have info?” König stands beside her, offering a light for the cigarette she tucks into her mouth.

“Nah,” Bunny says, glancing up at him and blowing smoke. “Just really fucking annoying.”

#writing #ua #bp #bs #core au

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