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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years ago

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Dappled Play

Summary- 1.6k Alpha Steve x Little One Reader. You are currently sunbathing on the back deck when Steve comes looking for you. Warnings- some suggestive hints.

A/N- This is really just nothing but fluff for the Shifters. I have been working on some heavy dark stuff and needed just something more upbeat to focus on today. So this is really just in the moment writing, nothing has been picked over and edited. Much Love Always! Happy Howling! 🐺💙

The Pack Masterlist

Sunlight dappled through the trees surrounding the back deck, sparse brilliant bits of light painted across your skin as you lounged in one of the alpine deck chairs Steve had scattered around. Your feet were kicked back onto the railing, freshly painted toes wiggling to dry while you had your head tilted back and eyes closed, letting your senses drift from right where you were.

The fresh water of the lake smelled tempting, the water lapping on the rocky shore and against the dock was calling your name as the day warmed. On another beach you could hear the laughter of other pack mates playing with one another, the occasional splash as someone jumped into the cool depths from the rope swing someone risked installing. On your own deck was a multitude of visitors scurrying back and forth, taking advantage of the spread of seeds you scattered along the railing this morning.

Chatter from above let you know your squirrel was at war with the chipmunks right now for the seed you had scattered around. Occasional flutter of wings let you know one of your songbirds had come out of hiding. When you peered over your sunglasses to see, a multitude of evening grosbeaks, nuthatches and purple finches were scattered across your deck. On the railing by your feet a Blue Jay wandered closer, cocking his head in interest at your wiggling baby blue toes.

“Try it mister and you will be a snack.” You growled softly and kicked out your foot enough to send him fluttering away with a squawk of disgust at you ruining his fun. From behind you, you heard a deep chuckle and a tilt of your head showed Steve leaning in the doorway leading to the bedroom, wiping his hands dry off on a hand towel, bits of water still caught in his beard and ran down his bare chest from where he had just gotten changed and cleaned up. You could tell just looking at him that he had been in the garage, the scent of oil and metal mixing with his natural scent. It made you inhale sharply, the Little Wolf sniggering in the depths of your mind.

Always...

<Don’t worry, you are just as distracting to him.>

That’s the plan.

“If you want, I will fight that jay off for you, just to preserve your honor Little One.” Steve stepped out onto the deck, leaning over to press a affectionate kiss on your lips, his warm palm sliding along the curve of your neck and tracing your bonding mark. “But you really seem to have it handled.”

“Well he might come back.” You lift your sunglasses off and set them aside while Steve went to sit in a neighboring chair. “If he does, I will call you, right away.” Your Alpha rumbled from his chest in approval and you grinned at the praise. “Already done for the day?”

Steve let his gaze fall from you, head tilted back into the bit of sun streaming to cut through the shade. “Time for a break. Sam was starting to get on my nerves talking numbers and that truck isn't going anywhere while we have the engine ripped out of it.” He inhaled deeply, letting the stress of the situation start to melt away. His mothers sentiments dancing on the tip of his tongue before repeating “When the world knocks you down, you get back up... this is nothing but a thing to deal with and I told Sam to quit worrying about it, we will figure it out. We always do.”

You uncurled from your chair and approached Steve, your fingers curling through his longer locks, the sun had started to lighten them back up into that golden color you remember from the day you first saw him. His arm loped around your hips to tug you into his hold, making you straddle his lap so you could drape your arms over his shoulders. “Sounds like he needs to take a page from your book Alpha.” placing a teasing nip at his lips, he tightened his arm around your waist and flushed you in against him, sliding his palms to grip your ass, flexing his hand to grasp a handful of your cheeks.

“He should, why I shut the garage down, for a few hours at least. Besides, I had to come see my best girl, maybe cool off a bit.” His eyes started to grow mischievous, looking you up and down, you could see he was already eyeing the loose tank top you had on and the shorts, contemplating what was underneath them.

“Don’t you dare rip these off Steven, they are my favorite outfit.” You growled out as he plucked at your shirt to look down it, his grin going boyish as he rucked it up over your head. “I promise not to destroy the tank top. But nothing else.” He moved to a stand, hauling you over his shoulder with a loud yelp from you, your hands making a grab at his belt while he started down the wooden stairs towards the deck.

“Whoa Alpha, what are you doing?” You bounce with each bopping down step he takes, one arm wrapped around the back of your thighs, the other feeling at your pockets to dig out your phone and stuff it in his own pocket.

“Going for a swim. It’s hot out, wouldn't you agree?” he gave an appreciative squeeze to a jean clad ass cheek and you wriggled on his shoulder while you swayed over his shoulder.

“Well... my current view is pretty hot.” clasping your hands on the firmest ass you have ever touched, you felt him flex under your hands. That’s when you felt a set of teeth sink into your jeans, making him growl at you. “Did you just bite my ass?”

“It was to tempting to pass up.” He informed you while walking closer to your destination, you started pushing against his back to have him put you down. “Oh no baby, were doing this the right way.”

“Steven Grant Rogers don’t you dare.” You warned him, but his hold was tight and there was no way you were wriggling from out of it. “Don’t you throw me into that lake.” You could hear the Little Wolf’s laughter at your predicament, as well as feel the Alpha joining in on the fun, Steve’s playful nature simmering between you two. You knew his intentions, just as much as he knew you wouldn’t be mad if he did.

In fact, pressing up against Steve had heated you up, he was a sweltering man on a normal day, his heat radiating from him. Now you were plastered to his back and were ready for the cool rush of water. But he couldn’t “know” that, and you pretended to fight him with teasing tickling fingers up his lower back and smacks against that finest ass you have ever seen. “No sex for you if you do!”

“Now that, I’m calling bullshit on Little One.” He barked a laugh and then he swung you around into his arms and gave a gentle toss, sending you flying through the air, squealing till you landed in the water. With a twist underwater, your toes pressed to the bottom, silt and stones rolling under the balls of your feet as you shot back to the surface. Catching sight of his pants coming off and boxer clad Steve soared over you to disappear in a giant splash, making you roll back towards the dock where you could grasp onto the edge, watching for where he might pop up.

You feel him first on your ankle, his fingers dancing up the side of your leg and looking down to see Steve start coming up, his head and shoulders breaking the waters surface while he wrapped his arms around you, knocking you off balance enough to circle your legs around his waist and grab onto his shoulders. He whipped his head a bit to clear of the water, leaving you laughing and sputtering at the water. “You are getting me wet?”

“Wetter then you already are?” He wiggled his brows at you, setting off a flare of heat spiraling through you.

“You seem to have that effect on me? I don’t know why though.” You pop a shrug of your shoulder, making Steve snort in his own laugh, pulling away from the dock so the two of you could float away from the shoreline.

“I keep putting it on my charming personality.” Pressing kisses of heat to your skin, chasing away the water droplets. This was what you loved about Steve, he was just so easy to be with.

To be yourself.

Your Alpha wanted you to challenge him, play, love, feel. You were still learning what that meant, to be genuine. To say that first thing that popped in your mind without repercussions. Never had you gotten to be free in such a way. You nudged at him, brushing your nose against his, whispering against his mouth. “I’m going with its all the good looks.” Challenging as you arched into him, pressing a firm kiss to him.

Steve took it further, dart of his tongue pressing against your mouth and you so willingly accepted him. His hands came to cup your face, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you two sunk into it, dipping back under the water for a moment before he kicked at his legs and sent the two of you back to the surface. You gave another nudge of your nose against his before unwrapping from around him and pushing off, the white strap of your bra and baby blue denim cutoffs blaring against the dark water. You swirled in the water, shooting water at him from between your teeth to squirt in his face.

Steve growled and lunged forward to catch you, the two of you splashing back and forth, trying to keep away from him, darting away with squeals of laughter and cries of alarm. His laughter was booming across the lakes surface, clearly enjoying himself in the moment.

Tags- @jtargaryen18 @what-is-your-plan-today @stardancerluv @patzammit @princess-evans-addict @fckdeusername @onetwo3000 @stargazingfangirl18 @navybrat817 @nekoannie-chan @angrythingstarlight @ransoms-sweater-holes @donutloverxo @natasha-romanova-anon @jennmurawski13 @that-damn-girl @rainbowkisses31 @pandaxnienke @verdandi-storm @gotnofucks @kelbabyblue @sagechanoafterdark @archy3001 @aliceaddellheidde @princesssterek @goldenfightergir @autumnrose40 @flannellover67 @itsmycorneroftheinternet @alexakeyloveloki @ayamenimthiriel @irishflutiegirl @mery-be @djeniiscorner @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater @rinkashirikitateku @fallenoutofrose @caffiend-queen @titty-teetee @saiyanprincessswanie @imboredat2am @bohemian-barbie @farfromtommy @jennmurawski13 @keiva1000 @nightriver99 @nerdygirl8203 @simsadventures @wonderlandfandomkingdom @sp2900 @threeminutesoflife @buckybarney @randomsevans @captainchrisstan @whenescapingdinosaurs @what-is-your-wish @niki-is-a-thing @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @celestialaccords @rosalynshields @everythingisoverrated @spn-marvel-and-more @animegirlgeek @tite-rose @wildmoonflower @smediumsmeatbae @rebloggingeverything @ozarkthedog @kalesrebellion @bostongirl13 @honeybuckybarnes @readermia @buckysteveloki-me @connie326 @beautifulsweetschaos @denisemarieangelina @princesssterek @avantgardium-leviosa @adillard94

#alpha steve rogers #alpha steve x little one #amber writes #sweater writes #fluff #the pack #welcome to the pack

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coexiising · 4 years ago

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Fade Into You - Chapter Five

SUMMARY ✦ Your feelings for Vader are starting to become harder and harder to control.

WARNING(S) ✦ a little suggestive, slight nsfw warning

MASTERLIST ✦ Here.

Sweat brimmed and trickled down the edges of your face, hair sticking to your forehead as you moved to the side, avoiding Vader’s blows with skillful accuracy. Kicking outward, your foot came in contact with his ankle and he was sent flying to the hard ground of the training. After what felt like a long time of training, you were finally starting to gain the upper hand. The two of you have been in the large training room for almost four hours now, the fatigue of your muscles starting to catch up to you as you try to regain some breath. There was a pause in movement, both of you acknowledging that you won this round fair and square. You stood above him, hands behind your neck to open up your lungs and took deep breaths, glancing down at the floor at Vader, who laid there face first, seemingly trying to access his mistakes in combat.

The days went by a lot faster now that he gave you something to do. As much as you didn’t want to spend all your time with a Sith, you would rather be training with him than sitting in your room doing nothing. You’ve been here for six days and six nights, meaning that almost a week had passed by after your supposed capture. Although you were a ‘prisoner’, you didn’t feel like one. If anything, this wasn’t half bad compared to your long extended times on Republic war ships during the war. It wasn’t like the temple, though it would have to do for now.

“I think we should stop for today,” Vader said, pushing his body up off the floor with his arms and standing before you. You gave a small nod, silently thanking the Maker that you didn’t have to pretend to fight him again. Vader was strong and good at complex blows, one hit and you were thrown backwards onto the ground. You were smaller than him and that allowed you to gain more of an agile advantage, but you were tired from training with this brute of a man, who obviously has spent a long time by himself in this very place, practicing his fighting style for hours on end.

He pushed past you, his arm coming in contact with your shoulder. Your skin seemed to buzz wherever he touched you, making you wonder if you had the same effect on him. It was hard to ignore the way that you felt whenever his hand would graze your thigh if he backed you up into a corner, or the way that you would blush every time he caught you staring at him for too long. And you knew it didn’t go unnoticed, Vader knew the way that you looked at you and yet said nothing. It was somewhat of an unspoken thing between the both of you.

Soon enough you were in your bathroom, stepping into the hot shower that awaited you, longing to feel the strain in your muscles be relieved. While the steam and water enveloped you, you got to work cleaning off the sweat of the day. Your fingers hit your waist and you trailed it over again, coming to that moment where Anakin had touched that same spot. He always took off his gloves when he was training and it was always his bare hands that touched you. You closed your eyes and did it again, pretending that it was his hands instead of your own. Even better, your thoughts took it to a new height and you pretended that the hand was replaced with his lips, pressing hot kisses to your stomach and hip bones. You almost trailed your hand farther down until you realized what you were doing, jumping slightly and opening your eyes, being met with nothing but yourself alone in the shower. Alone, fantasizing about the man that you were supposed to hate. It felt wrong and yet, a part of it was appealing to you. He was appealing to you.

“What is getting to your head,” You mumbled to yourself, shutting off the water and stepping out, wrapping yourself in a towel and making your way to the room. Vader had allowed you to have some books to entertain yourself, which you rarely did anyways since he started letting you out of your room, with you knowing that he could sense where you were any time in the castle. Not that you could leave anyways. You were sure that you could figure out a way if you were particularly crafty, though you never made an effort to. That was something that you were still unsure of, even if the reason why was deep within yourself. Dressing was easy, opting for a white shirt and black pants and brushing your hair out. From there you made your way out of your room, going to the kitchen attached to the dining room where you knew where he was. Not only could you sense his presence there, but you and him always ended up meeting in the kitchen of all places.

As expected, he was there, already sitting at the head of the table eating his meal.

“I was wondering when you were going to show up,” He said, glancing in your direction before going back to his plate. “I wasn’t sure if you got too carried away with yourself.” His tone was jovial, almost as though there were hidden implications behind it.

You thought back to the moment in the shower and pushed the thought from your mind. “What do you mean?” You asked, not exactly looking for an answer as you tried to make your shaking hands busy with something like fixing up a plate. Maybe you were just playing dumb so that he wouldn’t know what you were thinking.

“It’s strange. Now that you’re here sometimes I swear I can feel what you feel,” Vader explained. “Not all the time, just in cases of extreme.” You could sense it too. The worst was when Vader was angry alone by himself, you could feel it festering up inside of you as well, making you feel things that you didn’t want to feel. You were never an angry person, especially having the anger of a Sith. It wasn’t in your nature. Though you were becoming painfully aware that it was in Vader’s nature to be angry like that. What was he always angry about? What made him this way?

You knew what he was implying, whether you wanted to play dumb or not. Those feelings you got about him when you were alone, when you almost let your hand slip down your body. You weren’t sure if you should feel embarrassed that he had felt you at such an intimate moment, or if you should play his teasing game.

Playing dumb seemed to have a better effect. And then maybe you could get the feelings for the Sith to stop. “Are you saying you felt one of my emotions a few minutes ago?” You took your plate, which was now filled with different types of fruit and a piece of butter spread on it, and sat down on the opposite end of the table, taking note of his foot that grazed your own for a moment.

Vader’s gaze once again met yours, yellow eyes staring directly into your own. There was a playfulness about his nature now, unlike the one that he often had. If he was rubbing off on you, perhaps some of you was rubbing off on him as well. The human side of him was beginning to come out. The lightly tanned features of his face sprung up when you gave him the same look, feeling a sense of confidence run over you. A grin splayed on his features, “You could say it that way.”

“Well, are you going to elaborate?” You asked. “If we’re to truly get to the bottom of our connection, you should voice your findings.” The look that he was giving you, it was intoxicating, you could feel it go straight to your head and it was as though you were on cloud nine. There was something thrilling about his eyes never leaving your own. You leaned slightly into the table towards him.

Vader cleared his throat. “Something to do with my hands . . . Then my mouth?” The words left his lips and you shivered, the trance he seemed to have you in breaking and you were once again left in that state of panic of your emotions. The Temple taught you how to control emotions, the ones of anger and revenge and fear. But never these ones, ones that were purely animalistic and carnal, ones you hadn’t felt until getting closer with Vader. Was this the Dark Side tempting you? Perhaps this was his plan all along, to get you to respond positively to his touch and take you to the dark ways of the Sith. But the more you thought, this didn’t feel or seem like anything of the teachings in signs of the Dark Side that you had been conditioned to recognize. This was something completely different and so utterly human. “You know that the real thing is better than your thoughts, right?”

You didn’t know how to respond. Your body seemed to do it for you, clenching your thighs together to try and alleviate some of the pressure that was beginning to lightly build up. You had never felt this way before with another person, it was strange, but not unpleasant. You weren’t stupid, you knew what the desire was (The Temple wasn’t that useless about emotions), though you didn’t know what to do about it. Your face was blank, staring back at him.

His gaze faltered. “You haven’t ever-”

He was cut off by you standing up from your seat abruptly, the table bumping into your thighs and making the things on the table shake. You knew what he was going to say, You’ve never done that before? And you weren’t sure you wanted to hear him ask it right now. This was beginning to be too much for you. It was one thing to be thinking this way about Vader, though now that he knew about it, you weren’t sure what to do about yourself. You hadn’t felt this strongly about anyone before, especially in this type of case. You hadn’t ever felt the desire for another human. Sure, you knew that others were attractive and there were a few moments where you thought about the possibility . . . But nothing hadn’t ever gotten to that point before. It wasn’t supposed to get to that point. You knew that there were loopholes in the Jedi Code, that technically Jedi were allowed to engage in such activities, though you tried your hardest to take the Code to heart as much as possible.

You took your plate into your hands, steadying yourself on your feet. “I think that I’m going to eat in my room. Goodnight, Anakin.” You didn’t give him another glance and made your way to the exit.

“Wait, you’re just going to leave-”

“Goodnight, Anakin,” You pressed, walking out the door to your room which seemed one hundred times farther away than it actually was. The moment you reached your door, you opened and closed within a second of each action and set your plate on the table next to your bed, getting in under the covers and sitting there, trying to catch your breath.

You had to be more careful. That’s what you ordered yourself to do. You had to think back to the Temple and what your Masters would say about these feelings. That they could go just as easily as they came and you had the ability to speed up the process if you really put your mind to it.

Though as you tried to clear your head through mediation like you knew Master Obi-Wan or Master Fisto would tell you to do, all you could think of was Vader. You thought of his face and how good it would look while he was on top of you, how soft his hair would feel between your legs, and how his lips would feel on top of your own. The thoughts were addicting and soon enough, you didn’t even have the willpower to stop them, succumbing to the feelings and eventually slipping your hand past your lower stomach late at night when you were sure Anakin was asleep.

#Anakin Skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker fluff #suitless vader

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thosewickedlovelies · 4 years ago

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AND THEY WERE WALLMATES: The Day Off (a post-series part 7)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: E for so Explicit lmao

Summary: Remember when Javi wondered if you heard him masturbate through the wall? 👀

Tags: SMUT; f masturbation; voyeurism?; fingering; oral (f receiving); dom-ish!Javi but he’s soft at the end

Word Count: 3,309

A/N: I’m so sorry that this is not part 6, but uh have some alternative smut? <3

Also known as the masturbation scene I’ve been talking about, this scene takes place post-series because I just can’t get these two out of my head.

Masterlist

It’s a cloudy day in the city and the air is thick, crackling with energy, a slow-building storm borne in on a mischievous breeze. Despite this, you have the windows thrown open to hear the distant rumbles of thunder. The twisting air makes you restless, and you glance at your bed, wishing Javi were here.

You have the day off, but as it’s a weekday, you’re not expecting to see him until well after business hours. A giddy bubble still swells in your chest at the idea that you can indeed now expect to see him, rather than just hope to run into him in the hall.

You and Javier have been “together” for several months now. He is infuriating and fascinating and above all, careful- so while you’re both prone to wandering over to each other’s apartments when you’re bored, you’re also perfectly content to take things as slowly as he prefers.

Your gaze wanders over to the bed again. Biting your lip, you think of how Javi often uses ‘slow’ to mean ‘thorough’. When he has the energy, that man can work on you for hours, taking you apart piece by methodological piece. Nothing escapes his attention- not the slightest tremor of interest in something he hasn’t done to you yet.

Your breathing deepens as you stand there in your bedroom, thoughts steadily spiraling around Javier. You didn’t have any serious plans for the day, you’d just been puttering about doing some cleaning-

You give in.

You set aside what you’d been doing and go to wash your hands. When you return, you strip off your pants and flounce into bed. Warm air wraps around you from the open window. A closer roll of thunder makes you look to the sky, and you feel an electric, taboo shiver wash over you at the idea that you’re about to masturbate in broad daylight, with the window wide open.

But you grin as you nestle into your comforter. And why shouldn’t you? Better to do it now, while everyone nearby is out at work, than force yourself to be quiet at night.

Not that Javier is very helpful in that regard, you reflect wryly. Plus, you’d hardly had need to touch yourself since you’d started sleeping together. But sometimes a little you-time is nice, even if you have a regular partner, so you run your hands up your thighs and belly, intending to take your time…

Unbeknownst to you, Javier isn’t at work either. He’s at home, in fact- rifling through his closet, bedroom window flung open at this rare opportunity to air the place out. Rainy days make him edgy, but with things on standby at the office, they’d sent him home.

He’s just considering taking a smoke break when he hears it: muted and soft, but unmistakably a moan. His head whips toward the wall.

He remains frozen in place, ears straining, until the next thing he hears. “Fuck, Javier.” Slightly louder, and his head turns to the window.

Are you…home right now? Thinking of him while you-? Weather forgotten, Javi silently scrambles closer to the window, heart pounding as hard as if he were out on a bust. Now that he’s listening, he hears more: the faint but utterly recognizable creak of your bed frame, the rustle of sheets. The vocal sighs you make that usually tell him he’s successfully seduced you.

Before Javier evens registers what he’s doing he’s crept into the hall and is retrieving your spare key from where you’d mentioned you keep it. He moves as quietly as he can- which, given his DEA training (and the fact that putting on shoes hadn’t even crossed his mind), is damn near silent. Especially to anyone not anticipating visitors.

The way to your bedroom is one he’s traveled countless times now. Drawn by the alluring sounds you’re making, he has to remind himself that you don’t know he’s coming, that he can’t just barge in.

Finally Javi reaches your half-open door- and the breath leaves his lungs at the sight before him.

He almost doesn’t want to stop you. Legs splayed, hips rocking steadily into your own hand, the other clutching the hem of the t-shirt you still wear. Your head is thrown back against the pillow.

“Javi, please,” you pant dreamily, eyes closed, lost in your fantasy.

Well, he can hardly deny such a request. Javier licks his lips. “Yes, Vecinita?”

Your eyes fly open and you squeak in shock at the sight of him, your body instinctively retreating from the unexpected presence in your doorway. Your thighs snap shut, but not before he’s caught a glimpse of what was between them. The evidence of your activities gleams on your fingers where they yank the t-shirt down.

“Javi!” You swallow hard. Your muscles relax as you recognize him, but you maintain your expression of wary confusion. “What are you doing here?”

His own posture is as casual as they come. Hands in his pockets, he strolls just a few steps further into the room.

“Heard you say my name,” Javier murmurs. He runs his gaze over you, languidly, like he’s got all the time in the world. Which he does, he supposes- it’s the middle of the day, and it would appear that neither of you have anywhere to be.

“Thought you might want some help.” When he looks back at your face, a subtle intrigue has joined the surprise there. Your eyes track him up and down in contemplation as he moves closer.

At last you lapse your protective position, stretching yourself out again and parting your legs slightly. You look at him from under your lashes. “I love having your help, Javier.”

You still use his full name sometimes. He usually prefers his friends call him ‘Javi' (or ‘Penita’ if they must)- it’s the farthest thing from the curt ‘Peña’ he’s forced to be at work- but he finds himself unwilling to say anything every time he gets a tiny jolt at the affectionate way your mouth curls around ‘Javier’.

“Then why…” he stalks up to you on the bed, his movements decidedly predatory. “…did you start without me? Hmm, preciosa?”

The mattress dips beneath his hand as he leans over you, while the other gently cradles your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. You can’t help but turn your cheek into his palm; but Javi loves the way you shift further onto your back as he approaches, your whole body stilling under his commanding presence. He knows it’s not fear- it’s pure instinct, the way you arrange yourself for him, every muscle quivering in anticipation.

“I didn’t think you were home.” An excuse delivered with honest innocence. But your pupils dilate; your chin tips infinitesimally upward, your body’s every message communicating submission.

“Well then.” Javier leans down further so he can press his lips to yours, teasing them open with his tongue. Your limbs loosen, melting into the mattress the longer he draws out the kiss. You’re both breathless by the time he pulls away.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” he whispers. Turning away from you, Javi grabs your desk chair and perches at the foot of the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“…what?” All he’s done is kiss you and you already look consumed, eyes hazy with desire, lips parted expectantly.

Javi feels a prickle of pride at the effect he has on you, the curve of his lips revealing a hint of smugness. “You heard me.” He jerks his chin to the apex of your thighs, where only a tantalizing peek of what he wants is visible. “I want to know what you were thinking about. What you were begging me to do.”

Almost of its own accord, his voice deepens to the gravely rumble it takes on during interrogations.

He’s pleased to see the quickening rise and fall of your chest, the not-quite-trepidation in your wide eyes. He reaches out to rest his his palm on your ankle.

Once you’d gotten over the shock of Javi’s unexpected appearance in your bedroom, you’d been excited. Coyly responding to what you thought had been an offer of assistance.

But then.

Then you’d heard that voice- that husky rasp, like his control was already half-gone. Which was also incorrect, you realize now, as you stare at him seated at the foot of your bed. Waiting. Watching you with those dark, penetrating eyes, half-shrouded by the turbulent light coming through the window behind him.

You shift slightly, aligning your body toward him. Still processing, but by no means saying no.

“You alright, Vecinita? Sounded like you were pretty close before I walked in.” Javier tips his head in a taunting smirk.

Your cheeks flame. You had been close, it’s true, and under his scrutiny now your body burns even hotter. It’s mortifying, electrifying, entirely more than you’ve ever experienced all at once.

You’ve never done this with him before. You’d guided his touch, yes, shown him what you liked, but never blatantly put on a show like he’s suggesting.

But you swear the heat of Javi's caress on your ankle crawls all the way up to your core. Possibly you should be embarrassed that such a tiny touch from him can provoke such a reaction, but all you feel is exhilarated, impossibly aroused by what you’re about to do.

Holding his gaze, you part your legs. Javier’s focus immediately drops. His attention is excruciating, but you slide one hand down and then back up your inner thigh, teasing. Your free hand grips your shirt again as you glide your fingers into your folds.

You think both of you might moan. Your head drops back on the pillow. “Javier,” you gasp, circling your clit.

“Tell me, Vecinita.” It sounds like the chair shifts.

“Fuck, Javi, wish it was your fingers.” You can barely get the words out, despite that he’s heard you say far filthier things under his influence. Already you’re even closer than before Javi’s arrival had stopped you, the muscles of your abdomen almost painfully tense.

If Javi responds to your cries, you don’t hear it. But you don’t need to. Even with your eyes squeezed shut, you’re aware of him, a smoldering presence mere feet away from you. Fueling your own fire, an inferno burning brighter and brighter until-

You keen helplessly as the tension implodes, hips bucking, blissful relief rippling through you. You know that just Javier’s presence makes it better than if you’d still been alone, but your own fingers don’t feel nearly as effective after having his taking care of you for so long.

As you come down, you dare to look at him.

“Feel better, preciosa?” Javi is still smirking at you, but there’s something hollow in it now. His eyes rake over you with barely concealed hunger, his hand on your ankle gripping tightly.

When his gaze lands between your spread legs, you feel it as viscerally as any physical touch. Your floor muscles clench.

Abruptly Javi stands. “Take that off,” he orders, jerking his chin toward where your nipples are peaked beneath your stretched taut t-shirt.

Agitated air currents billow over you at his movement, raising shivery goosebumps on your naked flesh. But the feeling of exposure only lasts until the bed dips at your feet, and then Javier is crawling up your body, still fully clothed. The purposeful intent on his face makes your breath catch. He kisses you hard, but when your hands go to the buttons of his shirt he snarls.

He takes your wrists in one broad hand and pins them above your head. His hips crowd into the space between your thighs, and the weight of him settling against your body makes you whine high in your throat.

“I’m not done with you yet, Vecinita.” Javi's voice is deceptively soft. “Now that I know what you imagine me doing to you…” his hand releases your wrists and slides slowly down your skin, over every curve and contour of you. “…I intend to make it a reality.”

Javier shimmies to the side just far enough to slip his fingers between your legs.

Pleasure erupts at the press of his callused fingers, tearing a moan from your chest.

Javi groans in satisfaction at the slickness he finds, greedily working it from its source up to your clit, following the same path your own fingers had taken mere moments earlier. Sweat prickles your hairline. You shudder as he flaunts his intimate familiarity with your body.

“Vecinita.” Javi’s face is as close to yours as possible for him to still be able to watch your expressions. You look up at his insistent tone- just as he sinks two fingers into you.

The breath punches out of you as your muscles seize.

“My job now,” Javier tells you.

His fingers curl inside you, beckoning like his bedroom eyes. Brown locks fall over his forehead as he unconsciously ruts into you in time with his ministrations. You tilt your hips into his hand, and only Javi’s mouth on yours muffles your moans as he grinds the heel of his palm against your clit. He murmurs, hushed and awestruck, as you fuck yourself against his hand.

“That’s it, preciosa.” Bliss rolls through you, unwavering as a rising tide. You’re helpless against the force of it, tingling and surging up your legs, pressure expanding between your hips-

You come. Devastatingly hard, the weight of Javier’s body the only thing keeping you steady as you lose all sense of self to the blinding pleasure wracking your limbs. He works you through it, wringing every last spasm out of you until your cries fade.

But his movements don’t quite stop. His fingers still achingly slowly, his palm remaining an exquisitely careful pressure on your clit. You can’t seem to catch your breath- you’re so acutely aware of it, like you’re an engine left idling and Javi is keeping his hand on the throttle.

He brushes kisses over your face. His lips place softly on your brow, your nose, your cheek- until lingering at the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

“What else do you think of me doing to you?” The words seem to strike sparks along your bones. You inhale sharply at his implications. “Hmm? I can’t give it to you if you don’t tell me.”

God, what has gotten into him today? Simultaneously demanding and acquiescent, Javier’s voice is an insidious echo in your head. He twists his torso back and forth so his shirt scrapes against your nipples. You almost yelp as your reply bursts out of you.

“Your mouth! Your tongue. On my…” you trail off as he drags said tongue down your neck, doubtless tasting the sweat he’s worked you into.

“On your…?” Javi exhales on the damp streak he leaves, and goosebumps spring up at the cool sensation.

“You know where.” It’s a near-whisper. The place where you’re still stretched around him. Where the slightest shift of his wrist makes you tense.

You feel his smile as Javi plants a last kiss on your collarbone. He makes a sound somewhere between a sigh and growl as he works his way down your body, pausing only to nuzzle and nip at your breasts.

Thunder rumbles outside, closer and louder than it had been. You close your eyes at the sound, letting it wash over you like your partner's leisurely devotions. You can only relax so much, however, as your anticipation grows the further south Javier travels…until the flat of his tongue envelopes your clit.

You can sense his satisfaction at your choked whimper. Immediately he has to hold your hips in place to prevent them lifting off the bed as everything in you tightens again. Torturous slowly, his tongue moves, tracing every ridge and fold of your heat with meticulous care. Your thighs tremble.

“Fuuuuck.” It’s nearly a sob, your breathing ragged.

You swear Javi laughs, a smug wheeze in the back of his throat, and it’s as his tongue probes your entrance that you remember his fingers are still inside you. He spreads them so his tongue can slip into the gap, and the complementary sensations all in one place have stars wheeling behind your eyes. Javi definitely chuckles then, a vibration you can feel against your sex, and then his mouth returns to your clit.

His lips, tongue, and fingers move with a single-minded purpose. There’s no holding back any of the sounds you’re making now, salacious moans spilling out of you, an obscene babble of pleas and praise. Javier breathes encouragement between your thighs. You glance down briefly while his eyes are closed in concentration, wholly focused on his task.

Your head spins. Already familiar tremors pull your muscles taut, Javi’s sweet, relentless attention breaking you down more rapidly than you thought possible. You’re going to come again, you know, long before it’s about to occur. You tell him, beg him not to stop, your release bearing down on you from across an endless distance.

This one shatters you. Your spine bows with the contraction of your muscles, pieces of you scattering far and wide as you splay back against the mattress. You surrender to the ecstasy barreling through you, barely noticing Javi’s wide brown eyes watching with rapt attention.

He brings you down properly this time, gradually, until the aftershocks fade and you’re squirming away from him. You remain sprawled how you are, limp and sated, as Javier crawls back up to you.

His lips touch your cheek. “Preciosa? Vecinita. You okay?” He sounds almost worried.

A breathless laugh huffs out of you. You lazily turn your head toward him, finally opening your eyes.

“I’m fine, Javi. More than.” You smile warmly, gratefully at him.

His eyes crinkle in response. “C’mere,” he says, relieved, gathering you into his arms.

You snuggle up to him willingly, humming in contentment. The thought drifts through your mind that now it would be nice for him to be wearing less clothing. But it doesn’t stop you from drowsing into his warmth as he strokes a soothing hand over you hair and back. After several long minutes, you find the energy to speak.

“So…what was that?”

Javi doesn’t respond for several more moments, pressing his lips to your forehead as he thinks. Or maybe stalls.

“I…don’t know,” he admits, sounding sheepish. “…was it okay?”

“Mmm,” you affirm. You lift your head just enough to plant a kiss between Javi’s rumpled, parted lapels. “Very okay.” You can't help the faint heat in your cheeks, even though it's silly to blush at the admittance given everything you had just let him do.

“Good.” Javier squeezes you tighter. “because I meant it. Your pleasure is my pleasure, Vecinita.”

Surprised, you look up at him. He returns your gaze steadily, his sincerity clearly visible even as he watches carefully for your reaction.

You may be talking about sex, but this is a declaration of sorts, for Javi. Hauling yourself up onto one elbow, you place your other hand on his cheek and press your lips to his. You let your affection surge forth, kissing him deeply and insistently, trying to convey without words how dearly you regard him.

You think he understands. He cradles the back of your neck, clutching you to him as the urgency of the embrace crests.

Both of your grips relax naturally after that. He sighs into your mouth as you release him, but doesn’t let you move from where you’re half laying across him.

“Stay,” Javi murmurs, draping his arms over your back. His eyes drift closed.

Happily, you indulge. You tuck your nose into his neck and breathe him in, already feeling sleep cloud your mind.

Soft as a shush, rain begins to fall.

Fic Taglist: @din-damn-djarin, @thirstworldproblemss, @remembertoreadthese, @knightowl247, @pamguini, @piscespussybabe, @chibi-liz05, @dragons-of-the-usa, @bethanysboooks, @layniapetrovnaaa, @1800-fight-me, @finnisrioting (your tag wouldn't work), @sarahjkl82-blog

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #narcos fic #narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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yeojaa · 4 years ago

Text

( GHOST IN MY BED. )

Sometimes, hating someone is the only thing you can do.

pairing. jjk x (named) f!reader.

genre + rating. rockstar!au. e2l (exes n enemies!). angst. general.

tags / warnings. the angst is heavy in this chapter. there’s also mentions of drunk driving, a reference to drug use, and really, just a lot of sadness. proceed with caution!

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif and @periminkle i lob you both!

wc. 2.8k

chapter one.

You’ve barely moved an inch, rooted to the spot by fear and sadness and three long years of distance. It feels far too strange to be so close, to see him somewhere other than an illuminated screen. You know you should say something, do something - anything - but every tired bone in your body is telling you to run and that’s something you can’t do. Not after you’ve come so far.

So you take a deep breath - deep as you can manage without bursting the dam that packs itself with flimsy sticks and stones - and step forward. It feels monumental, far more than a single footfall.

He’s watching you, carefully, as he’s always done, with awe written into every line still visible beneath bandages. You see the way his jaw tenses, how the muscle works in agitation and hopelessness. He’s holding himself back, much to your surprise. You think you only recognize that because you know him so well.

And then you remember - you don’t know him at all. Not anymore.

Because he might seem like the same boy you’ve loved for most of your life, but he’s nothing but a ghost now. A figure from your worst nightmares, draped in white linen and gauze.

His hair’s far longer than it’s ever been, sweeping over the sharp contours of his cheeks, past the singular scar he’d gotten in third grade. It curls over his ears even in its dishevelled state, looking in desperate need of a cut and yet endearing all at once. The way he stares at you remains the same - intense, achingly familiar - and his smile - a little battered and bruised now - stretches like pavement, concrete and grounding.

You hate that it does something to your heart, the delicate frame of your rib cage rattling with the way the organ nearly launches itself out of your throat and into his hands.

You take another step. Jungkook doesn’t look away.

“I missed you,” he says, as if you’re an old friend, someone who’s come to hold his hand. As if he hadn’t broken your heart into a million pieces and this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him since you managed to piece it back together.

How you’d managed to rebuild yourself after that, you’re not sure. You’d collected the broken bits, filled the cracks with gold, and mended it into something different. A bit flawed and imperfect, but whole - stronger and illuminated. You’d done that all on your own.

That doesn’t mean it doesn't still beat for him, just a little.

A part of you aches to return his words. It’s halfway off your tongue when you cut it off, severing it with a bite of your teeth and a resolve that just barely holds on.

You reach his side - still a good foot from the edge of the bed - and settle into the worn leather chair to his right. It’s comfortable, surprisingly so, but you can’t find it in yourself to relax. You’re ramrod straight, line of your spine strung like a bow.

It’s hard to look at him directly - to recognize the parts of him you’d once called yours - so you don’t, instead allowing your gaze to bounce across the room. There are large bouquets of flowers against the few surfaces, all larger-than-life arrangements that look at odds with the barren body that’s laid up beside you. You wonder, idly, who they’re from. Friends? Family? Your heart stutters. Fans?

There’s a bag and personal effects on the couch. Black leather, exorbitantly expensive, embossed with his initials on the interior pocket. The gift you’d gotten him for your last anniversary - the same one he’d nearly lost on tour despite the fact that it cost you more than you’d have cared to admit. Something like anger simmers in your stomach at the sight of it.

When he speaks again, you’re still glaring at the bag, unable to tear your eyes from the supple material and all the memories it carries.

“Pumpkin?”

The nickname tears you from your reverie. You can’t help the way you suddenly stare at him - all wide-eyed surprise. “What?”

Something close to relief floods his expression, spilling like wet paint over the curve of his mouth, the corners of his eyes. It spreads delight into every inch, unrelenting and unrepentant. “I said I missed you, Pumpkin.” He repeats himself not because you haven’t heard him but because he wants that reaction again - the one that tells him everything he needs to know.

You resent him for it.

“Please don’t call me that.” You wish it were stronger - that you were stronger. It’s hard.

You know you shouldn’t love him anymore and that none of this should affect you. After all, he’d thrown your heart into a blender with three shots of vodka and chased it down with some pills and cigarette smoke. He’d filled all the space you’d given him with other things - riches and women and thin white lines - and he’d had the audacity to be surprised when your own sadness had slipped in, too.

He’d always imagined you’d keep it locked up, held so closely he’d never have to face it. You’d thought so to, really. Hadn’t expected the way it spilled out regardless, too much misery to be kept in a little glass house.

There was only so much you could take before it all came crumbling down.

So, it’s hard. You love him because he’s him and you’re you and that means more than you can possibly put into words.

“Don’t call you what?” It’s almost patronizing, like he can’t quite believe his ears.

“You know what.”

He scoffs - a low, broken sound that catches halfway out, muffled by chain-smoking and not nearly enough sleep. “You never used to have a problem with it.”

“We were together then,” you retort quietly, sandpaper grit and burnt coffee bitter.

“Just tossing me aside then?”

You’re not quite sure where he pulls it from - the sheer, idiotic confidence he somehow fits into his words, framing them like you’re in the wrong. You wonder if it comes from years in the spotlight because it certainly wasn’t there before.

“Don’t say it like that.” What’s meant to be reproachful comes almost pleading, soft and sad and stained with saltwater.

“Then don’t tell me what to do.”

The silence that falls is paradoxical, miserable and fulfilling all at once.

It hurts in the worst of ways, sparking from the tips of your toes to the tops of your ears. It feels like being outlined in neon - vivid pain in shades of pink and green that burn through your veins. Proverbial I told you so’s curl over your ankles and around your heart, little reminders that this is who he is now and every path would’ve led you here anyway. Parallel lines meant to converge only once before diverging once more.

“I’m sorry.” His apology feels infinite, as if it’s meant to make up for multitudes. “I just…”

Nothing further comes. You don’t know what you’d expected.

“It’s fine,” you say, even though it’s decidedly not fine. Absolutely nothing about this was even remotely fine. You weren’t even really sure why you’d agreed to come. You were still working through all your reasonings, turning them on their heads in hopes of receiving an answer other than the glaringly obvious ones that spilt out like salt grains.

“Is it?” Something about how he speaks, how the question seems so small, prompts you to meet his eyes. You wish you hadn’t.

There’s an infinite galaxy swirling in his irises, a million words he hasn’t spoken. They beg to be loved regardless, to feel even a semblance of the warmth your smile had once offered. It breaks your heart all over again, splitting it into pieces where the cracks and crevices haven’t quite fused together fully.

“I missed you, Pumpkin.” You don’t have it in you to rebuff him. Not when he reaches for you - a feeble gesture that pulls his figure close, entire bruised frame reassembling like a shuddering skeleton. He’s starry-eyed and intoxicating, drawing you into the Jungkook-shaped supernova you’re helpless against. “I missed you so fucking bad.”

“Jungkook.”

His name sounds like it’s about to break apart just like your heart, shattering wide open into a thousand splintered fragments.

“Please don’t do this.” Not again, you think. Not after all this time.

“I can’t,” he says and it’s shipwrecks and car crashes, misery in the form of broken teeth and battered bones and endless blue in his eyes. “I need you. I need you.”

It doesn’t escape you that you’ve heard these words before. You’d tucked that memory into the furthest corner, up and above your head in a shelf that you’d never touch. You’d folded it away into the box labelled JEON JUNGKOOK and tried to forget about it. You haven’t been able to.

It bursts out now, bouncing around your skull and in your ears - a feedback loop that won’t stop.

“Please.” You try again.

He’s gripping your hand so tightly - with a strength that feels far too much for someone only a day past a terrible accident - and it feels white hot and alive. Where his skin touches, he burns candle wax and coaxing - honeyed and warm. You imagine you’ll peel the drippings off later and be left with scars in the form of his hands. You wonder just how much more you can take.

“Please.” You try a third time. It’s feeble, frayed from holding on too long and too tight.

He hears it just as well as you.

“Stay with me. I don’t have anyone else.”

A part of you wonders how true that is. Surely, he had his family - his lovely parents that you’d practically considered your own. You can’t imagine they’d leave him here to rot.

Your resolve still crumbles, just a little, from the topmost pillar.

Ever the opportunist, Jungkook watches the fall of your Roman empire with rapt attention, hopeful as a new god. If only you weren’t so easy to read - full hand laid out on the table.

“What happened?” You pose the question in place of an agreement, words offered in the same instance you remove your hand - or try to, anyway. It doesn’t get very far. He seems adamant in keeping your fingers twined, knuckles stark white and riddled with tension. You wonder if he’s oblivious to it or if he just doesn’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time.

So focused on the way he holds you - claims you in the iron shackle that he deems he needs - you almost miss the way his features contort, rolling through a myriad of emotion before settling into a defensive mask.

You hadn’t expected a bared soul or a confession of all his sins - you knew enough of them already - but you’d hoped for some semblance of honesty.

By his expression, you wonder if you’ll even get that.

“I was in an accident.” It’s short, terse and held tightly between his teeth.

You don’t mean it in any way but observational. “I see that.”

He still takes it the wrong way, scowl fitting like a glove. It steels his jaw and hardens the line of his mouth, the moulting of purple over and around his eye doing little to hide the storm that grows in his stare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You can feel a headache coming on - the first pinpricks of it just behind your eyes and at your temples. It forms in bits and pieces, a silhouette of a man that burns your retinas and makes your grit your teeth.

“Nothing, Kook.” It comes far more tired than you expect it to, weighed down by something you can’t quite place. It feels like you’ve run a marathon in this small room. You wonder if this is what it’s always like - draining and miserable and reminiscent of the hell of tenth grade gym class.

“I’m sorry.”

How many times has he said that now? Will it ever be enough? For him? For you?

You shake your head, a slow gesture that doesn’t really register at first. You’re so used to appeasing him - even three years later - and it comes of its own accord, bobbing your neck on your shoulders like second nature. You could hold it back, but you seem just as intent on repeating yourself as he does. “It’s fine.”

Maybe this is what the two of you are destined for - two lost lovers stuck on a merry-go-round.

“It’s not fine.” He’s released your hand now - you try to ignore the sudden, overwhelming disappointment that crashes into you like a tidal wave - and uses the bruised, bandaged one of his own to scrub down the side of his face. It’s a surprisingly tired gesture, as if all of a sudden the weight of his situation has settled on his shoulders. You barely catch the words that fumble out next, hidden behind the palm of his hand and the ink that swirls over his ink. “I just…”

You’re hopeful for a split second. Hopeful that he might let you in, despite the fact that you know you shouldn’t even be knocking at that door.

“I don’t want you to look at me differently.” It comes so small, your heart clenches in your chest.

Then you wonder - what had he done?

“I won’t.” It’s not a promise but it sounds like one, filled with sunbeams and reassurance. You wish you could offer it any other way, maybe with careful regard and just the right amount of distance. Instead, you’re committed, poker chips piled high on green felt. All or nothing. You can’t help it.

“I fucked up.”

For the first time, you see him as he was those years ago - full of promise and hope, eager for a taste of the unknown. You see him as the Jeon Jungkook you’d known and loved, vulnerability threaded through all five feet ten inches of his frame.

You want to help him. You shouldn’t, but you do. “You can tell me.”

“We just finished the tour.” Pride colours his answer in glimmering strands of gold, threads that glint as he speaks. Charisma oozes out of every pore, shimmering like precious stones hidden behind his molars and within his stare. It’s easy to understand how he’s done so well for himself. “I was… celebrating. You know.” You certainly don’t, but you nod along regardless. “Things got a little out of hand.”

His attention seems far away, focused on something you can’t see. He continues carefully, cherry picking his words.

“I probably shouldn’t have driven. She—” Everything comes to a stuttering halt, his doe-eyed stare suddenly finding yours with alarm. “—I mean, they. Uh.” The damage is already done. You can feel it taking root - that same hurt you’d felt creeping into your throat before you’d stepped foot into this space. You swallow it down as best you can, tearing your gaze from his to train somewhere on the cotton that rests in his lap.

“Go on.”

He’s stuttering just a bit, because he can’t help it. He knows he’s been caught. You know he’s been caught. Gone is the Jungkook you’d once known. You see him for all he is yet again - a poor boy dressed in leather and lies. It hurts far more than it should.

“Uh. W-w-we were in, uh, the car.” The intensity of his gaze feels like two little laser beams. You can practically feel them burning through the top of your head as you refuse to meet his eyes. “I was— I was drunk and I didn’t— I didn’t see the other car.”

You’ve heard enough.

You wonder if the way you’re staring at him now is the way he’d most feared. It must be by how his face falls, crumples like a house made of playing cards.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” You mean it - really, you do - but that’s the only thing you can give him.

For his and for your sake, you need to leave. Now.

“Please remove me as your emergency contact.” Your voice wobbles, falling apart as you speak. You worry the tears will follow soon after. You can barely make out his expression, the wetness crowding heavily along your lashes and turning everything into a strange amorphous blob.

It’s getting harder to breathe the longer you stay. Each step towards the door feels like your head on the chopping block. Once you cross that threshold, it’ll be severed clean off. You’ll leave your heart in this room, with this boy who hasn’t grown a single day in the last three years.

You think he must be speaking to you but you can’t make it out. Everything’s muffled, like you’re underwater and about to drown. It fills your ears and steals your senses, narrowing your focus to the polished steel door handle that’s just within reach.

“I’m really, really glad you’re okay.” It’s all you can manage before the dam breaks and you’re throwing yourself into the hallway and the waiting arms of your brother. You don’t know how to stop the noise that rips out of your throat, wet and desperate and barely coherent.

Yoongi was right - you shouldn’t have come.

author note. this was quite short but it didn’t feel right with another scene added to it. the next chapters will move the story along a lot more. ty for reading! 💖

tag list. @jalexa83

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aidemint · 4 years ago

Text

Messenger - Zuko

Word Count: 3.2k !

Warnings: None!

Note: This is a plot I’ve been wanting to try for a while! For the sake of the story, Mai and Zuko broke up indefinitely. As much as I love them, I can’t have things get too “complicated.”

It started as an ordinary day. Perhaps one that began too well. I woke up to the sound of turtle-ducks quacking in a nearby pond as a colorful array of birds lined the canopy, chirping to the melody that the trees gave off when they shook in the light breeze. I yawned and rubbed my eyes with the backs of my hands as I woke up from my resting state underneath a large oak. Shaking my head a few times, I blinked and got my eyes to focus on my surroundings, and patted my side to make sure that my bag was still there.

Ah, the familiar feel of leather and sturdy cloth.

After the reassurance, I took the time to stretch a bit before getting up to get ready for the day. The morning procedure was conventional -- extremely so. Brush your teeth, bathe, dry, then scavenge for some food. Berries or nuts weren’t exactly rare to come by anywhere, so it wasn’t hard to find a hearty meal.

A day in the life of a messenger.

Humming as I stripped down, I discarded my clothes, shoving them into my messenger bag, then brought the satchel with me to the riverbed to decrease the risk of theft. The impact of my feet on the ground made the grass quiver and specks of dirt come flying into the air, tickling my soles and upper-ankles. When I finally set my belongings down, I sighed in content and watched as the surface of the stream glimmered, reflecting the sunlight. It certainly looked inviting.

Finally, it was time to bathe.

Shivering as I tip-toed into the cold water, I wrapped my arms around my chest and hoped I didn’t catch some sort of disease. I wasn’t used to such a different climate, as I’d normally opt for some hot springs when they were available, but I was in the valley and didn’t have the time nor the energy to make that trek all the way up the mountain.

I groaned and plunged shoulder-level into the river, feeling the running water push lightly against my figure. The sensation was surprisingly calming, considering that I was initially cringing at how frigid it was. As the edges of my lips upturned and my eyes fluttered shut, my body relaxed and I was able to enjoy the sweet empathy that nature provided me with.

After soaking for what felt like a few minutes, I heard a rustling in the bushes. Assuming that it was either some wayward badger skunk of platypus bear, I paid no attention to it until there came voices from that general direction.

“Zuko, I told you we shouldn’t have come this way. Privacy is a big thing around these parts.” There was an old man and his presumed nephew, wandering around the forest of oak trees and through a few bushes. I couldn’t get a clear view of the uncle, but I noticed a small clearing that the younger boy could step out into for me to peer at him. Hoping that he’d move according to plan, I craned my neck to get a glimpse at him.

“Privacy? In a valley? What, are we gonna run into a couple of naked mole rats?” Once the brunette emerged from his place hidden in the bunches of leaves and into an open spot, I got to recognizing him. My eyes widened and my lips parted, truly not expecting the company. Prince Zuko, the “traitorous” son of Fire Lord Ozai, was in Fengfu Valley, and I was right under his nose. It shocked me how little perception he had of his surroundings. Feeling the urge to laugh, I clamped a hand over my mouth to hide my presence and stooped lower into the water so my nose was right above the surface.

I couldn’t help but want to exploit his careless nature -- it seemed like it would be a lively addition to an otherwise boring morning.

Teasing him would be fun.

“I don’t appreciate being called a mole rat!” I watched on as Zuko shouted in surprise, then sent a bolt of fire my way. Narrowly avoiding it, I swam to the side and watched as the flame dissipated as soon as it reached the spot where I previously resided. Turning my head so I faced him, we locked gazes as I feigned offense.

“Seriously?” When the prince’s face morphed into one of surprise, I burst out laughing, almost getting swept away by the river at the effort. My howls ceased as I stumbled a bit and felt the rapids churn in an attempt to carry me down its bed, but I regained my footing and remained in my original place.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I once again directed my attention to the brunette, who just stood with his hands clasped over his eyes. Snickering at the sight, I slipped to hide behind a bush as I dried myself and put on my clothes. Stepping out into the open once I was finished, I gave Iroh a small salute while walking towards the pair, which he returned with a fond grin.

“You should listen to your uncle more often, friend!” I exclaimed, stopping in front of the Prince with my bad slung across a shoulder, “Don’t come across mindful people in these parts very often. It’s mostly populated with bandits, so most are pretty wary.” Noticing the pair’s interesting Earth Kingdom getup, I raised my eyebrows, impressed with the guise. I didn’t have long to admire their getups, however, as Iroh took the initiative to start a conversation in the midst of my thinking.

“Since we can’t avoid an interaction any longer, we might as well introduce ourselves. My name is Mushi, and this is my nephew Lee. We’re simple travelers, so it’s nice to meet a local from around these parts.” I nodded at him and smiled at Zuko, who still seemed a bit on edge from our unconventional introduction.

“I’m (Y/N). I work as a messenger for the international mailing system. I deliver letters to and from different nations, but I’m stationed in the Earth Kingdom most of the time, helping to run mail through the city, manually.” Iroh, or Mushi, nodded in understanding,

“An honorable profession.” I smiled, then thanked him for his kindness. Glancing at “Lee,” I noticed that he didn’t seem very eager to respond, so I just left him alone and continued to talk to Iroh.

“Well, Mushi,” I began, “Do you have a place to stay?” Iroh was quick to respond, but not without a sudden shift in his demeanor. His shoulders suddenly caved inwards and his eyebrows became furrowed, giving his face a worn, wrinkled look.

“Unfortunately not. My nephew and I don’t have anywhere to go, either.” I bit back a smile at his overbearingly dejected tone and the sudden slump in his posture when trying to evoke some sense of pity from me. Covering my mouth with a hand, I sucked in a breath to calm down, coughing a bit to disguise my laughter.

“W-Well,” I said, clearing my throat, “You can stay at my camp for the time being. I’ll show you the ropes, but you have to hunt your own food.” To my complete and utter surprise, Iroh’s posture and mood had suddenly improved upon hearing this. His eyes seemed to sparkle as a grateful grin spread across his face.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you for your offer.” I waved it off, then beckoned for the two to follow me to camp, where I had a tent set up and a couple of logs for a campfire. Though I didn’t have much, the former General’s reaction made me feel like some kind of saint for agreeing to take care of them out of common courtesy.

Perhaps his methods of persuasion had more of an influence on me than I originally thought.

Evening had come, and Zuko and I were currently out foraging for berries and nuts while Iroh was back at camp, tending to a fire in order to brew some tea and to hopefully get the pot hot enough to be able to cook the nuts.

At the moment, the Prince and I had stumbled across an undergrowth that housed a variety of different bushes and trees, all filled with berries and fruits, respectively. The silence of nature overtook us as we worked to fill the baskets we carried with the bounty -- a sound that was familiar to me, but seemed to be uncomfortable for Zuko, so much so that he decided to pipe up for the first time today.

“Hey, (Y/N)?” I whipped my head around to face him with an amused expression.

“You finally wanna talk, huh?” He sighed and rolled his eyes in the other direction, setting his basket down, but not knowing what to do with his hands. Curling them into fists, then letting go again, the cycle repeated for half a minute before he found the right sentence to say.

“I’m usually not this awkward, I promise,” he commented, rubbing the nape of his neck. I laughed, noticing the Prince’s bright red face, flushed from embarrassment.

“I can tell,” I replied, digging into a bush and pocketing some wild blueberries, “So don’t worry too much about it. I don’t mind the silence -- I hear it all the time.” He stiffly nodded and picked up his basket again to collect some pears from a tree overhead.

“Thanks.” The world then went silent for a few minutes until Zuko spoke again, his voice more relaxed this time around.

“And sorry about the naked mole rat thing. I didn’t really expect anyone to be there.”

“Don’t sweat it. I wouldn’t expect a naked person to be in a river in the middle of a valley either.”

“Okay… thanks.” I chuckled quietly to myself, finding hilarity in how uncoordinated Zuko seemed to be in the realm of speaking. It was almost endearing.

After a good twenty minutes had lapsed, it was safe to say that both of us had deserved a break. As I plopped down onto a moss-covered section of the floor, I patted the ground next to where I sat, motioning for Zuko to rest alongside me.

“Sit down with me, Lee.” He hesitated for a moment, but ended up sitting next to me anyways. While we rested, I admired the way the canopy of the forest blocked the sunlight, so that the rays would cast themselves in dappled patterns across the ground. Fluttering my eyelids shut, I took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, enjoying the forest’s energy and the rejuvenating effect it had on my spirit. As I opened my eyes to see the world again, I sighed in a mix of disappointment and appreciation. The tranquility was pleasurable, but always too brief.

I didn’t notice Zuko until I felt his hand nearing my bag, to which I responded to with a sudden pull away, not letting him even graze the satchel. He seemed alarmed by this, as his eyes immediately went dark and his body tensed up. Panicking as I noticed this, I tried to explain as quickly and as simplistically as possible.

“People’s letters are in there,” I said, “I can’t let you touch them without a license. It’s illegal.” Zuko glowered at me. His eyes bore into mine, golden, glaring irises seeking the truth in the myriad of lies. He leaned in closer to me, his scowl deepening.

“There is no need for mailing by foot in the Earth Kingdom. They have their own postal service with the rock cart system.” I sucked in a sharp breath as I prayed that he wouldn’t connect the dots, as hopeless as my wish was.

Zuko pointed at my bag.

“Those aren’t really letters, are they?” The prince’s question challenged me, yet it was laced with so much hidden curiosity and an element of certainty pounded into each and every word. I sighed as I realized that the jig was up. I had to tell him the truth, or he might become unstable and try to pull something with me. Taking out the envelopes, I unwrapped them, then showed the Prince the contents inside.

“You got me,” I admitted, handing Zuko the sheets of paper I held in my hand, “They’re not letters.” The brunette’s eyes scanned over the folio, gradually widening in disbelief. Once he was done reading, he handed the documents back to me and looked at me with such incredulity.

“What are those papers?” he demanded, “They have the Fire Nation seal on them.” I shrugged indifferently while putting the sheets back into their envelopes.

“They’re stolen Fire Nation Official documents,” I responded casually. The Prince seemed so caught up in this order of business, while I admittedly did not want to continue this conversation for much longer. His infatuation irked me, but it was natural, given his background, so I had no other choice but to endure it.

“How did you even get them?” he demanded, “Who are you?”

“I should be asking you the same question, Prince Zuko,” I snapped, not willing to take any more of his attitude. He looked taken aback yet flustered at the same time. I assumed that he didn’t realize that someone would recognize the guy with a very noticeable scar on his face. I scoffed at the thought.

“Do you really expect me not to know who you are, Mr. ‘Esteemed Prince of the Fire Nation?’” He grew increasingly bewildered, looking at me as if I had two horns growing out of my head, and as if he wasn’t the son of the most notorious tyrant in all the four nations. “Sure, most people in the Earth Kingdom have no clue who you guys are, but I might have a clue, you know? Given the documents and everything?”

“But why… How did you even get these?” Zuko stammered, “This is classified information.”

“I looted them from Fire Nation officers.”

“Why-” he began, “Why are you-” As he looked to me for some form of help, I motioned for him to continue thinking on his own. He furrowed his eyebrows and kept at it. A few moments later, something seemed to click inside his mind.

“You’re…” Realization dawned on Zuko as his expression morphed into one of vulnerable understanding. “You’re part of the Resistance. Against the Fire Nation.”

“Bingo.” He furrowed his brows and brought a hand up to point at me following my confirmation.

“You’re the one responsible for the missing contract for the Huo act.”

“Yeah.”

“You stole a cart filled with bills that lowered the minimum age for recruited soldiers.”

“Mhm.”

“And the papers for Baron Hu Jiao’s coal mines.”

“Uh huh.”

“And you’re-”

“You’re making me sound like a saint here, Zuko,” I interrupted, chuckling, “I’m just doing what any normal person would do in the face of tyranny.” He paused, creased his eyebrows and slightly pursed his lips, then looked away, as if contemplating some serious matter. I cocked my head and laughed softly at the sight, entertained by the Prince’s reaction to my words.

“You seem confused.” I turned to him. “Is there anything you want to ask me?” He huffed, contorting his face into an expression that was strangely reminiscent of one at a loss for words, though he spoke after my inquiry.

“Why did you even join the rebellion? Why would you risk your life for something so… so dangerous? So...” I felt a burning sensation in my chest as Zuko’s breath ran out before he could finish. He made no attempt at restating his two-word sentence, feeling as if it was best to just leave it there, as is. I sighed.

“Were you going to say futile?” Zuko scratched his head and nodded. I huffed.

“Why do people join the army, then? Just to die in trivial combat?” I challenged coyly, the edges of my lips curling into a smirk, “Why do people join task forces if they’re not worth fighting for?”

“Because they’re forced to.” The prince’s tone was cold. His words were hardened by some experience I knew not of, and it was only then I realized that I had been wrong.

I folded my hands in my lap and spoke in a much quieter voice from there on.

“I apologize.” Zuko paused for a moment to recollect himself, taking a deep breath in and letting it gradually come out.

“It’s okay.” I smiled at his comment.

“Do you want to hear more of my story? Of the resistance?” Zuko hummed.

“Okay.”

“I only knew of the Resistance from the propaganda that was set up in the middle of the Capitol. I’d see the faces of those men and women and wonder what they had done to earn their titles as ‘savages,’ ‘freaks of nature,’ and ‘traitors.’ I’d always ask about them. But I’d always never get an answer.

“The first time I ever had personal contact with them was after my fathers perished in the army. I went through a lot of grief, in the early stages. I wouldn’t eat, I wouldn’t socialize, probably because of the trauma. When nobody wanted me, when the Fire Nation threatened to kick me out for not being a valuable citizen, they took me in. Treated me well, taught me a lot of things that I’d originally been brainwashed to ignore by propaganda. They gave me hope and a reason to live. It was more than I could ask for, at the time.

“And I realized what I wanted. I knew that I wanted out of this dystopian society so I rebelled against it. I stole papers and caused as much of a ruckus as I could, fueled by this opportunity for revenge. I wanted to tear the place down.” I laughed sadly at the thought.

“But, as you said, it’s futile. I can’t go against so many people. None of us can. The numbers have always been dwindling.” I looked down, at the forest floor, embarrassed to admit the notion. “But we try.” The soft sounds of crickets chirping in the grass were the only noises that could be heard when I finished talking. Zuko just sat there, seemingly dumbfounded by the information that was relayed to him.

“I-I’m sorry,” he spoke, awkwardly glancing at my face, trying to morph his features into an expression of comfort. I chuckled at his behavior.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” Quietness settled in the atmosphere once more after I uttered the last phrase. I tilted my head up at the sky and admired the blend of colors it had become. Lavender hues mixed with vermillion tints to create a wondrous sight to sit under and enjoy.

Zuko and I sat together for what seemed like forever, simply enjoying each other’s company.

After the purple and red sky had passed and the stratosphere held a darker red and orange coloration, I decided that it was best to haul ass and go back to camp based on how little day we had left. I offered a hand to Zuko, helped him stand up, and picked up my basket, preparing to go back to camp. The brunette did the same with his basket and started to follow me back.

“Thank you for listening,” I suddenly said, turning to face him, “It’s been a long time since I could open up to someone like this. I really enjoyed this evening.” Zuko’s expression remained indifferent, but there seemed to be a new, small glitter within his irises.

“Yeah.” The corners of his lips lifted just a bit. “I did too.”

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isis-astarte-diana · 4 years ago

Text

On Your Toes

Summary: “You told me you were bored, so I gave you something to do.” Missy can always find a way to keep her companion busy.

Warnings: NSFW. MIHOW. Dark!Missy. Serious predicament bondage, featuring stress positions and the threat of bodily harm. (It’s foot trauma). Anal, but, like, not particularly explicit. Absolutely terrible BDSM etiquette - realistically, this is just straight-up torture. Missy is... really unpleasant. The way we love her best.

Word Count: 2067

NB: Sat down to write this thinking “aha, yes, the ornamental bondage concept. Nice, wholesome stuff. We all love that,” and then... well... this happened instead. I think it fits quite nicely into the New Toy universe.

It’s cold in this part of the TARDIS.

The engines are drowned out by the low hiss of an air conditioning system, and this, in turn, is swallowed in the whir of the servers that surround you. Row upon row of shelves stretch to the high ceiling, glowing with blue light, the impossible dimensions of the room containing only a fraction of a fraction of the ship’s central computing hardware. The vast monitor in front of you indicates that the temperature is in its ideal range; somewhere above refrigeration, but certainly lower than would ever be comfortable for a human in your state of undress.

Still, you’re sweating.

Your hair is plastered to your forehead with it, rapidly cooling trails of perspiration trickling down your neck, your sides, the backs of your trembling legs. Another full-body shiver makes your knees quake and you falter, losing your balance, dropping silently from your tiptoes to stand flat footed on the smooth tiles.

“Heels up.”

Missy doesn’t look up from her work at the control panel. She has her back to you, her dark head bowed, quick fingers flitting between a set of keys and dials and a touchscreen display. She had explained what she was doing, and you had made a valiant effort to listen, but that was hours ago, or so it seems. The technical jargon you’d tried so hard to keep track of has been pushed from your mind by far more urgent physical sensations.

The plug isn’t overly large - perhaps, at its broadest, just thicker than two of her slender fingers - but it’s certainly too much to ignore. Though inaudible over the other machinery of the server room its vibrations are powerful and, more than this, variable. If there is any pattern to the change in pitch, you have yet to determine it; and you have been thinking of little else for quite some time.

“Missy,” you attempt weakly, making no effort to conceal the chatter of your teeth. “Please, I-“ The words turn into an unsteady whine to match the abrupt increase in speed of the pulsing toy inside you. Your thighs try to press closer together, if not for stability then at least to soothe the impossible sensitivity of the slick flesh between them. The bar that keeps your ankles spread wide offers no such relief.

“Lift your heels,” she repeats, sharper this time. “And hush.”

Gritting your teeth against the cramping in your calves, you obey.

Behind your back, you hold tighter to yourself, each forearm clasped in the opposite hand and bound that way so that your shoulders are drawn backwards. Your chest is forced up and out by the position, leaving your naked breasts vulnerable in the cold air, nipples painfully stiff and throbbing from the chill. As the vibrations slow once more, your breaths come easier again.

The effect, unfortunately, is two-fold; with fewer distractions, your attention is once more concentrated on the strain of your position. Tension is beginning to set in at the base of your spine, the arches of your feet, even the core muscles in your abdomen, everything below the waist protesting at being made to hold you up like this. Tremors pluck once more at the tendons in your calves. You withstand them for as long as you can, teeth sinking sharply into your chapped bottom lip, until another wave of sensation from the plug as it kicks up to full speed for an instant has you landing hard on your heels, yelping so loudly that Missy actually startles at the noise.

The server room is not quiet, but it is very suddenly as still as a tomb.

You watch as she slowly lifts her head, rolling her neck, stretching languidly as if to emphasise your inability to do the same. When she rises to her feet you almost whimper. Being ignored is a torture in and of itself, but having captured her attention is no comfort. She does not face you, moving instead to one of the shelves nearest the control panel, one that houses gutted hardware and its components. Her fingers plunge into the innards of a half-disassembled server. Impossibly, the sight makes you shudder. From here she withdraws something in a closed fist.

“It’s a fairly simple instruction, isn’t it?”

Her voice is cooler than the spinning fans above you and hums with far more power.

“I mean - stand on your tiptoes. It’s four words. Not even particularly long words, either.” At this, she finally turns on her heels, her smile bright and broad and utterly mirthless. “You can manage to keep track of four words, can’t you?”

You nod emphatically, the movement made jerky by the shivering you cannot stop. She raises an expectant brow.

“And yet, there you are. Not standing on your tiptoes.”

The haste with which you rock up onto the balls of your feet when she begins to approach almost costs you your balance. You waver there for a moment, close to falling back on your heels again, even closer to sprawling face down on the hard ground. With your arms bound behind you, you would have no hope of shielding your face from the impact; your nose, already sore from the cold, throbs at the thought. A strangled whimper works its way through your trembling lips.

Missy narrows her eyes. In the low blue light her features are sharpened, shadows darkening under every curve and arch of bone with the angle at which she tilts her head. “You told me you were bored.”

You shrink, not only from her tone, but also from the memory of your own impertinence. At the time - curled up on the tiled floor at her feet, left with nothing to occupy your restless mind or hands and scolded every time you dared to fidget - you had hoped that she would let you assist her, even if only with a trivial task, or at least set you some busywork to spare you from having to sit still and silent in the cold.

“You told me you were bored, so I gave you something to do.” She takes hold of your jaw with icy fingers just as the thrumming of the toy kicks up a degree. Your hoarse gasp is due, in part, to both. “I went to all this trouble and you keep disobeying me.”

“Missy, I- I can’t...” Spasms shoot up the backs of your legs, settling in your abdomen, shortening your breaths as you speak through a grimace. “I didn’t mean- I wasn’t-” It’s impossible to straighten out the words behind your quivering jaw. “I’m really trying.”

“You certainly are, dear.” Her thumb curls under your chin, her palm slowly moving to cup your cheek now. She bares her teeth. “Consider my patience tried.”

The slap catches you off guard. Its sting is only aggravated by the chill of her skin, and of yours, so that the pain is sharp as frostbite. Your heels meet the ground again as you struggle to steady yourself. The shifting of your weight brings relief, but this is smothered by the knowledge that you have, once more, failed to follow her instructions.

“I’m sorry!” With your face turned down towards your shoulder and your eyes clamped shut against the welling tears, you try fruitlessly to rise back onto your toes. Though the balls of your feet burn with the effort, your legs are too shaky, your knees too weak. You cannot seem to settle into a balanced position. All the while, the shifting of the plug inside of you is torturous, its constant vibrations irritating your nerves and flooding you with scalding arousal that cools on your parted thighs. “I’m sorry, Mistress, I- please-”

Her knuckles brush against the blazing skin of your cheek and you flinch from the touch. “Oh, it’s alright, poor love.” With a sympathetic click of her tongue, she coaxes your eyes back to hers and gives you a pitying look. “Now, I know how you humans can struggle with these things, so I don’t mind giving you some help, just this once.”

She shows you her other hand and finally loosens her fist to reveal the spoils of her earlier search. Your cry of alarm hones her lips into a knife-edged grin.

“I’ll do better!” The words are too loud in the close quarters, ragged with unsteady breaths as your wide eyes flit between her face and the pair of inch-long screws resting in her open palm. “I will, I promise, I-” Again, your voice is robbed by a sudden and brief change in the pitch of the maddening vibrations.

“Well, if you’re going to do better, then you won’t mind this at all, will you?” Missy presses the sole of her boot down lightly on the toes of your right foot, cool and smooth and with no weight behind it. “Stand on your tiptoes.”

You shake your head, teeth clenching to stop the chatter there, tears turning cold as they begin to escape at last. She pushes harder, the touch growing uncomfortable, still wavering just this side of pain.

“On your toes,” she repeats, her smile flickering with the threat of a snarl, “or I will break them for you.”

For the barest of moments you try to weigh up the impossible choice - obey, and feel the pointed tip of the screw beneath your raised heel; disobey, and test the sincerity of her words - until the bones of your toes grind painfully between boot and tile and the far more present peril wins out. With a choked gasp you lift yourself once more onto the balls of your feet.

Her voice lowers to a stage whisper and she gives you an exaggerated wink. “Good choice.”

You twist your head at an awkward angle to watch her moving behind you, but this threatens your balance and you quickly correct your posture again. As she sinks to the ground, her fingernails carve a stinging path down the back of your left calf, following the curve of cramping muscle from knee to elevated heel. You jerk under the touch, but cannot escape it without falling.

“If I were you,” she begins, with a faint stirring of amusement, “I would think very carefully about which foot I favoured.” To emphasise her meaning, she pricks the arch of your foot with the screw. You squeak pitifully.

“Please, Mistress.” You cast your blurry eyes to the ceiling, trying not to shift your weight when she repeats the motion on your other foot. Your thighs quake beneath you, cold and strain and horror all taking their toll. “I’m sorry, I- I was rude-”

“You were bored.” She drags her nails up your right leg when she straightens up and leans in to show you her indulgent smile. “And now you’re not. You’re welcome, dear.”

Missy returns to the control panel without a second glance. Your babbling protests fall on deaf ears as she sits back down, swirling her fingers across the touchscreen. It takes only moments for the futility of your efforts to sink in. Despite her earlier impatience with your complaints, she seems entirely impassive to them now.

Fighting every screaming nerve in your body, you bow your head and try to concentrate.

The most tentative of attempts at shuffling forwards is quickly thwarted; with your ankles bound this far apart and your arms restrained behind you, you have no hope of shifting away from the threat underfoot without your forehead meeting the tiles. Through harsh and wavering breaths you are forced to accept the dawning realisation that your balance is tentative, your muscles are fatigued, and it is only a matter of time until you fall one way or the other.

“Missy!” Her name is a panicked sob. Your feet are beginning to cramp and you shrink in on yourself, clawing at your forearms, seeking stability that you cannot find. In your anguish, your muscles draw tighter around the plug, drawing your attention once more to the unpredictable nature of its constant pulsing. “I can’t stay like this!”

She turns to look at you over her shoulder, her expression one of arch disinterest. “Well, you can put your heels down if you like, poppet.” Her eyes crinkle at the corners with her smile. “But you’ll only do it once.”

Unseen, she slips a hand into her pocket and deposits the two screws inside.

#mine #nsfwork #missy x reader #gomez!master x reader #the master x reader #hahahHAHAha I love this gif so much #Missy: [bares her teeth like a fckn feral cat]#me: 🥰😍💕#anyway she's terrible I love her #well she's Babey but in this fic..... she's Terrible

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sevi007 · 4 years ago

Note

(have not played hades but-) Can you imagine Persephone dragging Hades to the surface for just a minute, just for a moment. He's grumbling, he's BUSY, there is so much work to do and-what, is that-? huh. He doesn't remember the sun being that. warm. did he forget? no. Must be because he's with her.

I hope it says something about HOW MUCH I JUST WROTE for this prompt if I post a link to AO3 first, before the story - Because it just got SO long. XD

Read the answer to this on my AO3 under the name “Home is not where you live (but who cares when you’re gone)”

Or read it under the cut, but in worse formatted form:

„Mother really does not do things halfway, does she?”

Persephone’s voice was strained, the chatter of her teeth laced into her every word. And yet when Hades turned to her she was smiling wistfully, her gaze directed at the glittering white around them fond and amused both.

As soon as he noted the shivers wracking her frame, Hades immediately moved to cross the distance between them, already loosening the clasp of his cape while cursing himself to the depths of Erebus and back again. Even to him, with his cape and internal fire, the air was frigid. To the goddess of spring, it must have been positively arctic. How could he not have thought of that?!

For all his anger at himself and his mother-in-law, his hands were infinitely gentle when he draped his cape around Persephone’s stiff shoulders, pulling it closed around her. “Your mother,” he grumbled to himself, nearly letting the words get lost in his beard, “always had a talent for holding grudges for a very, very long time, even for us gods.”

“Oh, I…,” a little sound slipped from Persephone’s lips, a curious mixture of surprise and awe as she watched his hands wrap her gently in the cloth. Once he was finished, she reached up and touched his retreating hand gently, effectively rooting him in place when she smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

Feeling as frozen as the land around them, Hades could not muster a single word. He nodded jerkily, murmuring something which could count as assent, and forced himself to take a step back again, to put distance between them to be able to breathe again.

At least Persephone seemed to need to get her bearings about herself as well. She blinked into empty space for a beat before shaking her head, laughing quietly, and focusing on him again. “Well!” Let’s keep moving, before we freeze in place.”

“I would not even put that option past her,” he mumbled. He had thought the crunch of snow under their feet would have swallowed the quiet words, but Persephone actually laughed, blindsiding him completely with the melodious sound and nearly making him stumble. Blast.

„You are still going on about that? I’m sure this is not her holding a grudge; this is...” Persephone gesticulated about, clearly at a loss of words, until she caught sight of him and the way his bushy eyebrows had risen nearly to his hairline. Defeated, she snorted and let her hands drop. „Perhaps a little. A very little grudge.“

“Perpetual winter. And only here,” he reminded her gruffly, only to bite back a court laugh when she leveled a glower at him, stubborn and defiant for a beat – before she deflated.

“She really is good at this, isn’t she?” Once he nodded gravely, she was already smiling again, her good spirits not that easily deterred. “But grudge or not – it really is quite beautiful, in its own way. Look!”

Hades grunted and would have kept walking, but of course she would not have any of it. She stopped right before the way bent around a corner, and with how close she had positioned herself at the edge of the plummeting cliff, he could not bring himself to simply continue on and leave her there. With nothing left to do other than to follow her gaze or stare at her, he heaved a soundless sigh and allowed himself to take in the sight.

As far as they could see, the land was clad in powdery white, glittering in the early morning light as if diamonds had been ground into the finest powder and strewn out. And where the last edges of his - their - realm ended, there was only the sea, dancing lights reflecting on light waves, and the sky above, tinted in hues of orange, pink and palest blue.

It really was quite beautiful; he was at a point where he could admit it was. Once upon time he had been blind to the beauty of the surface and the skies; too hurt to see anything but a disappointment in those domains which had been denied to him. Not because he envied his brothers for the realms they governed over; blood and darkness, no! He could not have cared less about lofty highs and watery depths, and much less wanted to call them his own.

No, his ire had been drawn burning hot because it had been a short straw which had decided it all.

His life, his future, resting on a single straw. What a cruel joke that had been. Had the decision not been made by the Fates, anyway, long before he had made his draw? And they all had known so. He had known – had known that neither his brothers nor the Fates had even left him the pretense of having a say in the matter.

Now, eons upon eons later, he had embraced his fate and accepted the Underworld as his to govern over, much like it had accepted him in return. And with it, his rage had cooled. He was no longer blinded by it while gazing out over the mortals’ realm, feeling not awe over it, but at least a certain… contentment.

Although maybe most of it was because of the goddess at his side. Hades found he forgot all about the landscape once his gaze settled on Persephone; her eyes shone as she took in the sight, and the bow of her excited smile was so familiar and near-forgotten both, it wrenched painfully at his heart.

A portrait could never come close to the real sight of her.

It felt nearly sacrilegious to draw her away from something which could made her smile like that, but she would be miffed if she did not get the work done what they had come here for. Hades was reaching for her before his mind caught up with it, and only managed to draw his hand back an inch from her shoulder. “Persephone,” he called instead, quietly. „The garden?“

“Hm? Oh! Right,” another laugh; this time, he was better braced for it, and did not feel as weak-kneed as before when he followed her away from the cliff and up the mountains again while she chattered on. “My apologies. Here I am dragging you up to the surface to gather some plants from my garden, and then I get sidetracked at every opportunity.”

“You did not need to drag me,” he reminded her firmly, although not unkindly. “You asked if someone had the time for a short trip. I did, so I agreed.”

«And that was very kind of you,” Persephone’s steps were quick and sure, finding their way up towards the cottage blindly even while she glanced back at him. “Don’t think I’m not aware that there is now work piling up for you! But I would have had to ask Charon, otherwise, and I so hate to keep him from his duty...”

“It is doubtful he would have found the opportunity.” Frowning down at the slippery snowmelt his fire-clad feet left behind, Hades swallowed a grumbled and shook the cold wetness off as discreetly as he could. “With all the time he has spent selling useless clutter to the boy-… Zagreus, he is behind in his work as it is.”

His harsh words did not seem to deter her in the least. Green eyes flashed with mirth over her shoulder as she chuckled. “All that selling of clutter you have not forbidden him yet, you mean?”

A grumble left him, too indistinct to pinpoint if it was embarrassed agreement or offended muttering, and she laughed heartily. He kept silent, letting her have her fun at this expense. She was right, anyway, and it would distract her from questioning his decision to accompany her, which was a relief in itself.

What would she say, he wondered, watching her sure-footed gait up the hills and the smile he could only make out the curves of from his position, when she knew he had never intended to let anybody but him accompany her up here? He would have loaded the chthonic gods with work himself if he had needed to, only to make sure he was the only one who had time for her.

Not because he did not trust anybody else to protect her. She was very capable of taking care of herself, nobody knew that better than him.

It was the destination of her trip which made him uneasy. Having to let her go, months at a time, for her visits to Olympus would be terrible enough already; he was aware of all his subjects and colleagues already conspiring not to bother him during those times, since his mood would be at all-time low the kind of which even titans and giants would have feared. But when it came to Olympus, he was at least sure she would always return to hi– to the Underworld. She did not like the mountaintop any more than he did, after all.

But here? The place she had made for herself; the everlasting reminder that he had chased her away once already? That she did not need him to be happy? He could not bear the thought of letting her go here alone and risk that he was left in the dark about her changing her mind about the Underworld, about her place amongst them… about him.

If she did, he would not stop her, of course. He would let her go, no matter how it would break him. But at least he would be there, and would know where she was; that she was safe.

And at least he could say goodbye this time.

So lost in his increasingly hopeless thoughts was he that he did not notice the sound of her footsteps changing; the crunch of snow was replaced with the soft sound of grass swishing around her ankles. It was the change of temperature that alerted him to a shift, seconds before her voice made him look up, “We’re here! Zagreus did not promise too much, he really has been taking care of… Hades?”

Hades could not have answered even if he had really heard what she had been saying. He was frozen in place the moment he had looked up and laid eyes on their destination.

It was not what he had expected; not that he had been sure what, exactly, he expected to find on this trip. Perhaps something akin to the garden adorning the House down below: plants which could flourish despite the close proximity to the beyond, and which had likely survived more because of the magic of their owner rather than his own clumsy care in her absence.

But this place was different. This place, down to its very core, was her.

Persephone.

She was everywhere here, in the air, in the ground. Not only her magic and her vitality were represented in the eternal spring garden – no, better. Worse. He saw the warmth of her smile reflected in the magical golden sunlight; heard the lilt of her happiest laughter in the gurgle of the stream further ahead; could feel the smell of her hair wafting up from the multitude of flowers tickling his nose.

The kindness and strength of her very soul was represented in every single piece of nature around them, and it was so overwhelming that even the God of the Dead stood stunned, unable to tear his eyes away from it all – away from her, standing there in the middle of the golden sunlight, looking every bit like the goddess and queen she was.

“It’s alright.”

Her gentle voice pulled him from his stupor.

Persephone was smiling patiently at him, hand offered out with its palm up. “It’s alright,” she repeated gently, softly. “You won’t burn any of it, I promise.”

Hades’ confusion was short-lived; only long enough to notice that in his shock, he had stopped just short of stepping onto the lush green grass. Of course, he knew his fire would not, could not, burn any of this; it had never burned any of her plants down below, either. And still he felt hesitant to take the first step into this sanctuary of hers.

How could he possibly be welcome here, a distant part of him wondered, in this domain which was hers and hers alone, when he once had been the reason she had left the Underworld in the first place?

When he should have come here to beg her to return back home, yet never did?

And yet, there was still her hand offered out to him, her smile directed at him so kind and gentle. Even the deepest guilt and most crippling doubt could not stop him from taking such an invitation, and he reached for her haltingly, allowing her much smaller hand to slip into his and draw him over the invisible line between them.

Persephone’s widening smile was fully worth it.

Ripping his gaze from her features before he could be caught staring at the crinkles around her eyes or the bow of her lips, Hades directed his attention to the quaint cottage in the corner of the magical garden. While commonly and unassuming at first glance, upon closer inspection it was shimmering with the same power as the rest of the place did. “You made this yourself. Everything?”

“Mhmmmm,” even Persephone’s hum was proud. “The very first living quarters I made and maintained myself.”

You should not have had to. “It is… comfortable.” Internally, he cursed his clumsiness. He could thunder orders powerful enough to halt titans in their tracks, command respect with a single cold word, yet this was causing him trouble?

Luckily, Persephone seemed blind to his inner war, beaming up at him as if he had made her the biggest compliment. “Right? I was quite happy with how it turned out; so homely. Although it became a little quiet from time to time, but… oh, well! Here we are.”

Her hand slipped from his as she moved to kneel next to a patch, immediately leaving him feeling cold. His fingers flexed, feeling the lingering ghost of her touch, while he watched his wife fuss a little with the ends of her peplos and chiton to get comfortable, setting the yet empty basket down next to herself. His cape, neatly folded, found its place next to it. The careful way with which she stroked over the cloth for a beat, lingering, made Hades’ heart turn over in his chest, and he had to look away.

In the middle of pushing her hair back, Persephone suddenly seemed to remember him standing there – already lost to her work, he noted with a surge of staggering fondness – and shot him a half-reassuring, half-apologetic smile. “I will try to be as quick as I can. You, hm. You still might want to get comfortable, however? There are chairs right over…there… oh.”

Her voice trailed off and into silence when he lowered himself to kneel beside her, mirroring her stance. She was still staring at him silently by the time he tucked the tips of his long beard aside so they would not get in the way, and in lieu of having to say much else, Hades murmured, “It will be faster, this way.”

“Right. Right, yes, of course.” She ducked her head, yet was not fast enough to hide her smile completely.

Unsure if she was making fun of him or not, he swallowed his instinctive, defensive retort and raised an eyebrow at her profile. “I do remember a little of what you taught me.”

“You do?”

The question was high with surprise. He felt his hackles rise immediately, jaw tensing. Of course she could not even imagine that he would-…

“Oh, I’m sorry, Hades,” her hand settling gently on his elbow made his rage draw back like the tides, as quickly as it had come. When he glanced up again, Persephone grimaced in a way that was apologetic and self-deprecating all at once. “That was silly of me. I should have known you – I know you still remember. After all,” and here, her expression softened in a way that made his throat go tight, “after all, you took care of the garden by the House in my absence, right?”

Once more he tensed; this time not from anger, but because he suddenly felt caught out. He nearly ripped his arm from under her hand but couldn’t bring himself to do it, so he simply avoided her gaze, rather decisively. “I attempted to.”

“And you did a wonderful job at it,” Persephone said, so firm he dared not even scoff at her words. “I was so happy to see it all flourishing when I came back. After all this time, I thought… well. To be honest, I thought it would all have wilted.”

Hades looked up at her sharply, searching for her gaze, but now it was her who was looking away. She thought…? “Never,” his own voice startled him a little, raspier than he had meant to be. “I could never have…. It was… it was yours.”

The mere idea of the garden wilting and dying made him sick, even now. It had been one of the two only things that he had left of her, apart from their son. All to remember her by. Raising Zagreus like the way the boy had deserved… well, he had failed at that, hadn’t he? But the garden. The garden he had somehow managed, to his own astonishment.

While he watched, Persephone’s features softened; Hades could not decipher the emotions swirling in her green eyes, yet the intensity there made his mouth go dry. Before he could further question it, she looked away, releasing him from his stupor. “Let’s get to work; I have kept you long enough.”

His first instinct was to deny it; he had come here willingly, after all. But she was already handing him a little spade to work with, avoiding his gaze as she began to explain what she would like to do. All he could really do was accept the tool and nod jerkily along to her words, trying to get his whirling thoughts into order and focus.

In the end, it was not as difficult as first feared. They fell into a kind of easy rhythm, a dance they had danced long ago and with steps that now quickly came back them. Persephone directed him with gentle words and helpful pointers while she made quick work of her own half of the patch; he, in turn, was content to follow her lead without missing a beat. Most of the time, he dug a hole around the plants she pointed out to him, graciously leaving space around the roots so as not to damage them, and then let her lift seedlings, seeds and bulbs out of the earth to dust them off and set them aside in her basket.

Often, Hades got momentarily lost watching her. Watching her simply… being. He had nearly forgotten how radiant she was when content. The tilt of her little smile when she found a particularly strong little seedling. That she would praise the plants for their beauty and growth. More than once, he had to force himself to look away in time to avoid her questioning gaze, for he did not know if his staring would be welcome at all.

Only once the sun had already passed its zenith did Persephone sit back on her heels with a deep, content sigh and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, cleaning sweat and dirt off her brow. “Phew, that should last us for quite a while now.”

Hades followed her lead and sat back; he knew better than to make a snide comment about the plentiful assemble of plants nearly spilling over the sides of the large basket. He already knew she would probably return here at some point in the near future, no matter what she said now. The surface was part of her, and she needed it like her flowers needed the sunlight. “Shall we heed back, then?”

“Probably,” but even as she said it, Persephone did not sound convinced. Her gaze lingered on the garden around them, travelling here and there, but never quite meeting his. “You will have to meet Zagreus by the temple soon, won’t you? He was preparing to leave when we went out.”

Ah. Hades nodded with a quiet grunt, hoping his surprise was not as visible as he thought. He had completely forgotten about that while they had been here, and he did not quite like to admit it.

The curve of Persephone’s smile betrayed her pride as she glanced over at him once more. “He got so good at this. Do you think he has passed through Asphodel already?”

“He will be leaving it soon,” Hades corrected absentmindedly and without a hint of doubt. He felt it, the same way he felt his heart beat and his lungs draw breath: While they spoke here peacefully, tremors shook Asphodel beneath their feet. Ear-splitting hisses sent tortured souls scurrying for cover while the trashing of an angered Hydra sent more magma over the edges, flooding what little solid ground was still left with the Phlegethon’s liquid fire.

Zagreus had become quick in his escapes, Hades had to give him that; with each run to the surface, the young god got faster, stronger, more strategic about his approach, and the Underworld had little to offer that could keep him chained, at this point. The Hydra would not be able to hold him in place long. The champions of Elysium would slow him down somewhat but even they would fall before the prince, as they had done many, many times before. And then soon, it would be the Lord’s own turn to try and send him back to the House.

By sunset, Hades guessed when he checked the sun once more, sunset at the latest he would have to face his son. And while those fights had gone on from a bitter deed over to an annoying nuisance and ended up being something he actually looked a little forward to – well. Today was different, wasn’t it.

Persephone was still looking at him questioningly, ever patient, when Hades glanced back at her. There was still a streak of dirt on her cheek which she did not have seemed to notice. It made her look younger, somehow; every bit the young, spirited goddess with dirt under her fingernails and the stars in her eyes whom Zeus had one day dropped at his doorsteps as a “gift”, and who had immediately started to worm her way into his heart.

Without making the conscious decision to, Hades reached out and gently, carefully, wiped the dirt of her cheek with his thumb. Under his palm, he felt her draw a breath and then fall entirely still, and when he realized what he had just done, he dropped his hand immediately.

He had not made the first move to touch her ever since she came back. And now he was not sure if the wide-eyed look she gave him was to mean he had made a horrible mistake.

Changing the subject right now seemed the safe thing to do.

“Hades…”

“There is time yet,” Hades interrupted her softly; unsure if he wanted to hear what she had to say. “I can remain for a little longer, if…”

He trailed off, gaze flicking away from her as he cleared his throat uneasily. How to continue on without making it sound like he was trying to make her decision for her was beyond him. Yet asking her to please, stay here, with me, a little longer, seemed like too much, still.

“Hades.”

It was said much firmer now, a gentle command which immediately made him listen, even when he could not yet bring himself to look back at her. He nearly did, his whole arm jerking in surprise and shock, when she gently took hold of the hand he had let drop away from her moments before. Her touch felt alien, after all this time; his fingers twitched when hers ghosted along them, cradling them, torn between holding very still and grabbing hold of her.

Persephone’s gaze was a near corporal thing, drilling into his temple, but he still refused to meet her gaze; couldn’t bring up the courage to do it. She seemed to sense this, since she took a deep breath after a moment and began talking again without waiting for eye contact. “When Zagreus visited me, here, before… he told me something.”

Both of her hands settled around his now, holding him, staying him. It might have been a good thing, for a suspicion already rose in his mind, making his muscles lock as if to bolt.

“He believed you might still love me.”

Suspicions became reality, All air leaving him in a great rush, Hades closed his eyes, remembering – remembering very vividly: the door to his chambers just the slightest bit ajar on his return; dust on a side table disturbed ever so slightly; and the portrait… the portrait which had been standing half an inch more to the side as it had for the last eternity.

He should have been furious, then; he should have been furious now. At his son for meddling in things that were not his to care about; at Achilles, for abandoning his guard duty out of misplaced loyalty; at the Fates, perhaps, for continuing to make a fool of him.

Instead, he only felt tired. So very, very tired.

And she was not even done yet.

“Do not be angry with him.” The force in her voice nearly made him smirk despite the circumstances; every bit the queen he still remembered after all. Then her voice softened again, making him listen very closely despite himself, to catch her next words. “He did it to convince me to come back, you see. Because I said -… well, I said to him there was nothing left for me, in your House. Not after…after all this time.”

By the end of it, her voice had taken on such a softness, such a dejected tone, that he could no longer look away. His head swiveled around, but ironically, now she was avoiding him; keeping her gaze fixed intently on their joined hands and making it impossible for his incredulous stare to decipher her meaning.

Nothing left? She could not be serious. She could not have possible thought, all this time…

“I could not quite believe it, when he told me,” Persephone continued on, either blind to his inner turmoil or ignoring it for the moment. “That could not possibly be true, because… because. After all this time? After… I left you, without as much as a goodbye.”

She laughed quietly, then, but it was nothing like the sound he loved to hear so much; it was watery and quivering, and he could not stay still for any second longer, reeling as he was. Turning his wrist in her grip so he could cradle her hand in his palm, Hades squeezed it, hoping it would get her to look at him as he reminded her gently, “You left me a letter.”

“A letter,” the shaky sound repeated itself, laced with a scoff, but at least Persephone looked up at him now. Her eyes were watery, but steely as she shook her head. “That letter was not enough to tell you-…”

“I understood,” he hated to interrupt her, but he would not let her go that spiral of doubt and she was working herself up to. “I understood that you did not want to stay.”

She fell quiet then, her gaze darting over his features, searching for something. A deep breath, then a sad smile formed on her face once she seemed to have found it. “Perhaps. But perhaps, you misunderstood my reasons to leave.”

What? Hades slowly shook his head. It seemed ridiculous. Of course he had known. There might have been a great many things he had not known anymore, then – why they had to suffer; why she had to be punished for their love; why anything still mattered with her gone. But this, he had known.

“Really?” Persephone prodded, gaze sharpening a little at his denial. “Did you really know? I did not tell you. I should have told you.”

“You were not happy,” this was the easiest part, painful as it might be; the sound of her crying had haunted him for a long, long time, after all. “It was obvious. What was there to tell me?”

“Is that really all you thought? Or did you think, maybe, that I was not happy with you?”

Already having opened his mouth to reassure her once again that he had understood, Hades paused, carefully considering her words once more. To him, there had never been a difference; if his wife had not been happy in their home, then it had to be his fault. If she had to leave because she could stand it no longer, than he had failed her. What husband was he, when he could not even make her feel welcome, and happy?

“That is what I feared,” Persephone interpreted his long silence immediately, and correctly. She looked positively grief-stricken when she shook her head. “Oh, Hades. That is what I meant when I said the letter was not enough-… you were never the reason why I left!”

He had not been? He had not been. But still…

“I was not reason enough to make you stay, either.” He cringed the second the words left his mouth, hating how petulant and selfish they sounded.

“… Back then, no, I suppose you weren’t.”

It hurt to hear her say it, even when he had always known it for a fact.

“You always made me so happy. However, at that time, there were so many things that made me forget what happiness even meant.” Persephone’s breath caught a little before she shook her head, drawing aimless pattern on the back of his hand. “My insecurities over my place in your realm…. If I was able to be the queen you deserved. My loneliness. And, most of all…. when Zagreus…”

Her voice gave out on her, then; he did not need her to finish, hold around her shaking fingers instinctively tightening.

(Their son had been so very small. So very beautiful. So very dead silent.)

Quietly, Persephone sniffled, one hand coming up to discreetly wipe at her eyes before she continued, keeping her head ducked. “Some of those things, I am still not sure about, even looking back at them. But I had time to… get some distance from it all. And Zagreus… well.”

She looked up, smile soft yet radiant. “He found me.”

What should have been a reason for joy only made Hades twitch guilty, nearly pulling his hand back; her touch suddenly so undeserved. For none of that had been his work. He might have believed his decisions right, once, everything only to protect her. But in the end, he had only kept mother and son apart at every turn. “I should have told you,” he muttered, knowing she would understand without words.

And she did. For one terrifying moment, Persephone’s features closed off from him, lips tightening from a smile into a frown. No longer the warmth of spring, but rather cold disapproval. “Yes, you should have. On that, our son and I agree wholeheartedly.”

Again, he cringed, her soft words like a whip. He did not deserve their forgiveness, he knew, but… but. He feared, anyway.

“But that is not why I’m telling you all this. Not today,“

Barely able to believe his ears, Hades dared to risk another glance at her. Persephone had softened once again, her warmth returning. Yet she seemed hesitant to begin talking once again; he was familiar with the way she bit her lip, eyes lowered.

After a moment of hesitation, he allowed himself to shift his thumb, letting it ghost over her knuckles in silent encouragement.

Persephone‘s eyes darted to his, briefly surprised, before her smile returned and she squeezed his hand back, clearing her throat. “So Zagreus told me you might – might still love me. Well. I wasn’t convinced, as I already said. Not even when he told me about the portrait. A portrait could just be a memory, after all. Collecting dust, no longer getting any attention.”

At that point, Persephone faltered once more, her gaze asking for his understanding. Hades nodded slowly; not in agreement, for her assumption could not be further from the truth, but in the hope she would continue. He needed to know what she was trying to tell him.

And she did. ”But… Zagreus’ claim stayed with me. In the end, whether he was right or not, it was the only thing he could have said to convince me to come back.”

She fell silent, then. Hades could barely breathe, anticipation and fear warring in him as he waited for her to explain, one moment, two, what seemed to be an eternity. Finally he realized that it would not happen, not without his prompting.

Swallowing tightly, he managed a rough „Why?“

It had been the right thing to do, judging by the way her whole demeanor relaxed and she smiled at him. „Because out of everything I left behind, it was you whom I missed the most.“

A wave of disbelief and relief swapped over him, strong enough to leave even a god dizzy. After all this time, all his shortcomings - knowing that she had missed him even a little was a balm on his broken old heart.

Fates, but he did not deserve her.

Hands trembling faintly under the onslaught, he forced them to calm long enough to wrap them around Persephone’s, dwarfing them, while he searched for words. They were not his strength, ever been. But she had been so terribly brave and strong, and now – now it was his turn. It was the least he could do for her.

“Not only a memory,” was what he finally managed, tongue so heavy with emotions he could barely get it out. “The portrait, it was not that. It was always there, Persephone. You... you will always be my queen.”

It was not the great declaration of love he had hoped to make. Not that he had ever been the best at those, anyway. Perhaps it was for the best; at least for now, when he was not sure such a declaration would even be welcome.

And still, great words or no, her eyes started to glow as she took in his words, a slow smile spreading on her face. She had always been the one to understand what he meant, no matter what words he did or did not say. Carefully, so very carefully, she slipped her hand from his – his heart missed a step in fear – only to take his hand in hers instead, to lift their joined fingers to her cheek in a mimicry of his earlier touch; a tiny thing that seemed to long ago now.

The whole world seemed to stop when she leaned into his touch, searching for it instead of balking from it, and smiled, eyes wet. “Husband?” Said as a question and an invitation both.

Something in Hades’ chest unraveled; a knot he had been carrying around ever since she left – ever since he had heard her cry out in anguish over their unmoving baby – finally loosening, letting him breathe at last. His hand was shivering against her cheek when he let his thumb gently stroke away the single tear slipping from to the corner of her eye. “Wife,” he breathed, answer and plea in one.

The sound which ripped from Persephone’s throat then was both incredulous laugh and broken sob; before he could worry, she was leaning forward, swaying into him until their brows touched.

The connection was – everything, Hades decided, releasing a breath he had not realized he had been holding. Once more he was enveloped by her, her scent, her warmth, her touch; he had thought he had lost any right to this. His second hand rose to gently cup her other cheek, fearing she would vanish like a dream in the morning light if he did not keep her close. “Persephone.”

“Hades,” she answered his broken plea without a beat of hesitation, her hand cupping his, holding it tight. There were tears in her eyes, only visible because she was so close. “Husband; I missed you so.”

“You should be furious with me…”

“Shhhhh,” her firm headshake nearly knocked their noses together. “We have been angry long enough. We have been hurting long enough. Not now. Please. Let us… let us think about how to be better in the future, but… later. Yes? Not now.”

Who was he to deny her? He did not know if it was the right thing to do, but then it was not his place to decide, either. He would do anything his queen asked of him. Anything, if they could just stay a little longer like this.

And stay they did. For how long, he did not care, and hoped she would not, either. It could have been an eternity but it still felt too soon when Persephone took a deep breath and leaned back, his hands slipping from her face.

He immediately missed her but stayed, waiting for what she had to say; for he did know the cheeky gleam in her eyes still when she considered him from close up and yet too far away, head tilted. “Persephone?”

“Not in a hurry to get back to your paperwork?”

He snorted loudly without a thought, the notion too ridiculous to take it seriously for even a second. Only after did he register the mirth dancing in her green eyes, the smile twitching at the corner of her lips. It all seemed so familiar, quite suddenly, but why…?

Oh. Oh.

The realization was sweet and warm like the ambrosia he pretended to hate so much.

An eternity ago, this question had been a secret joke between them – a relic from old times where they were still so familiar which each other that she could tease him with the question without fearing his ire, and when he could tease right back without feeling like a clumsy fool.

She still remembered that. She thought it time to bring that old familiarity back. The thought filled him with a warm to battle even Demeter’s harshest winter.

What had been his answer, back then? Right. Something along the lines of…

“Why, always,” he rumbled, making sure to draw the syllables out as if in consideration, “but I can make time for you.”

Pure delight lit up on Persephone’s face then and she laughed, heartily and happily, warmer than the sunlight around them. It prompted an answering smile from him, the kind of which he barely even remembered anymore. She was beautiful, his queen; now more so then ever, since he had her back. He would have loved to…

He was reaching for her before he could think better of it, now more sure of his welcome than before. Yet once his fingers were trailing along her jaw, he hesitated. Was this too fast?

“My queen,” Hades murmured, waiting until her eyes were on him before he let his gaze drop to her smiling lips. “May I…?”

She understood, of course she did. She understood, and instead of rejecting him, Persephone only laughed quietly and made the decision for him – something he would have not permitted, never again, had it been anyone else but her. Before he could even blink, she was rushing forward, arms settling around his shoulders securely, and lips crashing into his to kiss him with a ferocity and passion no god or mortal would have expected of the goddess of spring, except perhaps her husband. And a good thing indeed that he did, for it made him spring into action the moment their lips meet, readily welcoming her back into his arms and steadying them before she could topple the both of them.

Back home, Hades thought, blurrily, as the world fell away around them, everything but their joy, their longing and their love ceasing to exist. He was back home.

And for the first time ever, he actually felt like thanking the Fates for his lot in life.

#hades game #hades #persephone #persephone hades game #supergiant hades #rex101111

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yuzusorbet · 4 years ago

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Continuing Kikuchi-sensei's book 'Strongly, beautifully,....'

Chapter 3

3.4 Looking at deviations of the torso 3.5 Icing as a recovery method (not translating these 2 sections; I may come back to do them after I have done the parts that interest me most.)

3.6 Experiencing the world's stage as trainer

The season after Sochi Olympics, that is, 2014-15 season. It was hard for Yuzuru to get into good condition. The 1st competition, Finlandia Trophy, he withdrew because of back pain. Yuzuru was in Canada and I did not know of his injury. I only knew about it from the news.

But, one week before GP series Cup of China, held in November 2014 in Shanghai, I received a message on my smartphone.

"Sensei, can you come to the competition in Shanghai please?" "Didn't you say that the Canadian trainer will accompany you?" I replied. After a while, "Sensei, come to Shanghai and do treatment for me please....?"

Because in the previous season, he had told me, "For competitions in Japan, please may I have your care, but for overseas competitions, the trainer in Canada will go with me, is that alright?" Perhaps he felt a sense of guilt. He was probably fiddling with Pooh-san's ear and hesitating for some time before sending the message.

"Alright, I understand. I will be there," I replied. I cancelled all my plans for the week ahead and went to Shanghai.

After a long absence, when I touched his legs, I felt the confirmation of his evolution, and also, in my heart, I felt some sense of relief that I could do treatment for Yuzuru again.

2014 December, GP series NHK Trophy in Osaka. Yuzuru, far from ideal condition, headed for competition. His short programme was only 78.01, and with scores lower than any he had in recent time, he finished in 4th place. He managed to qualify for the GP Final in Barcelona which was for only the top skaters of the GP series.

Right after NHK Trophy was over, Yuzuru came to my hotel room.

"Sensei, can you also come with me for the Final?" he said. "Oh? For Europe, the other sensei (Canada) will go with you, didn't you say that?" I was also being mean. "But, sensei,........" his eyes made the plea. "Ah, seems like it's unavoidable, shall I go to Spain and see Sagrada Familia as well?"

In this way, I was called back to be Yuzuru's personal trainer.From then on, for competitions in Japan and overseas, support for Yuzuru was done by me. Well, to him, I think it's because he has known me since he was little, and calling me "sensei, sensei" is easy and comfortable. But to me, it became a major event that happened in my life.

3.7 PyeongChang Olympic season, starts

2017-18 season, also an Olympic season. First competition, Autumn Classic, Yuzuru had a world record score of 112.72 for his short programme, breaking the previous record which was held by himself. The media, in anticipation of a 2nd Olympic gold, saw it as a good start towards PyeongChang Olympics, but......

After Autumn Classic, I met Yuzuru; his body that had been loaded with training, headed for competition at GP series Rostelecom Cup, could not be said to be in very good condition.

That not-ideal condition indicated the pressure of a 2nd Olympic win. In summer, he was pushing himself hard and the body was very overworked. The thoughts of 'must win' put a great burden on his legs. Putting multiple quadruple jumps into his programme layout was extremely demanding on the ankles.

I thought it was not so hard to win at PyeongChang Olympics if he maintained the level of record-breaking 2015-16 NHK Trophy and GPF. It seems his coaches also told him "you don't have to overdo it to that extent".

But, Yuzuru thoroughly pushes himself hard. "Not doing it, is not me" he says and continues to practise so that he can raise the level. Even if someone said "stop!" he would still continue to skate.

The Olympics becoming a heavy burden, there was not a single word of this from Yuzuru's mouth. He did not show it even in his behaviour. But when I touched his legs, I knew. To what extent was the harsh training he had put in.

For Yuzuru who has an overabundance of fighting spirit, I felt a sense of uneasiness. Unfortunately, my premonition came true. 2017 November, GP series NHK Trophy in Osaka, during official practice, he fell on a quad lutz. The ligaments of his right foot were damaged.

After he was injured, we were talking and joking and laughing. If we did not keep the mood cheerful, Yuzuru would be too pitiful. When he fell, I knew it was a serious injury. If it was the usual sprain, my treatment could help in some way. But not this time. Yuzuru had to withdraw from NHK Trophy. The trainer from Canada and a doctor took care of him and I returned to Sendai.

A long recovery period was needed for his foot. He was absent for Japan nationals. He remained in Toronto, undergoing treatment, and prepared for the Olympics. I could not be at peace. The condition of his injury, I only knew about it from the news, as usual.

It was about a month and a half before PyeongChang Olympics. Yuzuru's father, holding a form for registering the size of sportswear and blazer for the Japanese delegation, came to my clinic. Same as 4 years ago for Sochi Olympics. "How is Yuzuru?" I asked, but Yuzuru's father only smiled and nodded, as he always does.

But it was definite that Yuzuru would compete at the Olympics. What I could do was, no matter what the situation, to send him into the rink in the best condition. And I was ready.

3.8 Do carefully one by one

The free skate at PyeongChang was at an earlier timing than the usual competitions, and the practice started from 8.25am. Without getting all worked up like at Sochi, I could face it calmly this time. That morning, the taping for him was completed at first try.

Yuzuru did not say anything. Of course, his foot could not be said to be in very good condition. My role was to help him get the ideal feeling that he wanted in his legs and I believe it went very well. Warming-up also had no problems.

Supporting Yuzuru's beautiful performances are his well-trained body and senses. Elegant jumps and spins are created by his steady torso and ability to sense tiny differences. These are important for flowing movements. That is why Yuzuru is always concerned about the training of the torso and any deviations.

And so, about one year before PyeongChang Olympics, torso awareness training was introduced into the warm-up schedule. There was a video showing Yuzuru sitting on a bucket with wheels and moving around; that was one of it. People who saw it may have thought, "What is he playing?"

That is a custom-made product, a bucket-shaped chair fitted with wheels used for wheelchair basketball. To move around freely on it, one has to be very conscious of the transverse abdominal muscles that surround the abdomen, the erector spinae muscles that support the spine, and other such parts of the torso; it is a training device. It is well-known that the balance ball is effective for conditioning the torso. However, it is not enough for a torso that supports the flowing movements of figure skating. Quadruple jumps do not go directly above the head. They go forward 3 to 4 metres while rotating. And so, (thinking) can't we condition the torso while moving forward, backward, left and right, this bucket-chair was developed.

Usually I would say "next, bucket", and Yuzuru would sit on it and move around, like writing the character "ハ" (t/n. this is number 8 in kanji). At the warm-up of the short programme, he jokingly said, "Sensei, I've become good at this." For the free skate warm-up, even though I did not give the instruction, he himself went to sit on it and started moving around quietly. What he did was exactly the same as how I had pictured it in my mind.

As he often says, "When I am focused, I know very clearly what I need to do."

The last part of warm-up was always, still in gym shoes, jumping straight up with rotations on the spot. Doing this, one will know if there is any shift in the body's axis.

At this time, I once again felt "this guy is incredible..." and got goosebumps all over.

In the tension, there must have been countless times of feeling almost crushed by the considerable pressure. Nevertheless, he spent his days pushing himself hard, and studying and researching all that he could. And raise himself higher, refine his skills, brutally overwork his body...... 4 years of it, for the sake of this moment.

Perfectly conditioned. To Yuzuru who was heading to the middle of the rink for his free skate, the only thing I could do was to say, "(You're) alright, so just do carefully one by one." But I don't know if he heard me.

[end of chapter 3]

[some sentences are left out or summarised]

Translated by me from this Japanese book by Akira Kikuchi: https://www.amazon.co.jp/%E5%BC%B7%E%… (please consider buying it, if you can)

(photos: searched from internet)

#Yuzuru Hanyu #Akira Kikuchi #kikuchi sensei

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immortalstrand · 4 years ago

Text

I’ve grown accustomed to his face

Coming home after a double 24 hour shift Carlos just wants to sleep, however firefighter boyfriends with cold feet might have something to say about that

This is my first bit of writing in over six years so it's short and a bit too fluffy and has not been beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Hopefully you like it!

Read on ao3

It was still early, that was all Carlos could tell at this point as his sleep deprived brain tried to switch on to whatever had woken him up. He had gotten off a double twenty-four-hour shift, maybe a few hour ago and he was looking forward to just sleeping through the first part of his two days off. But something had woken him. Adjusting his position slightly, shifting more comfortably onto his hip facing the door, bending one leg at the knee and kicking the other out behind him, he figured it out. Two cold ankles wrapped around his calf and a cold nose was suddenly pressing into the space created between his shoulder blades, hair ticking the skin just above. TK. The firefighter must just have gotten back from his own forty-eight-hour nightmare. Grunting softly at both being disturbed and in greeting, Carlos let his mind drift off again, they had plenty of time later, but for now he just wanted to sleep.

Three months, that was all it had taken for TK Strand to worm his way indefinitely into Carlos’ life since they had become official. Three months was all it had taken for it to feel strange when the other man was not sleeping beside him, three months for them to have a side of his bed each, and for the striped shirts and hoodies to accumulate in his laundry. It had been some of the best months of both their lives he hoped, it was some of the best of his own. Ever since TK had reached out to hold his hand while laying on the Camaro, it was like something had changed within the other man and now all he wanted to do was have some part of himself touching Carlos whenever they were together. Sitting on the soft, his feet would be on Carlos’ lap, or tucked under the larger man’s thigh. Walking anywhere, hands would be tangled together, or hips bumping constantly.

Carlos was stirred awake once again, he was not sure how much later, but the warm body settled behind him was no longer there. That was not unusual, but it still caused a small frown to appear on his face. Normally during their shared time off they stayed in bed for a while, TK normally did not get up and leave him without waking him up. Rolling himself sluggishly out of bed, grabbing his old worn APD sweater that always lay on the chair next to him, Carlos headed out into the main living area.

He could not see his boyfriend straight away until he turned towards the kitchen and spotted him leaning tiredly against the counter cradling a cup of what Carlos assumed was coffee. Rubbing his eyes, he finally spotted the possible reason for TK’s early rising and was suddenly very much awake. The great big and purple bruise covering what looked like half of his face.

“What the hell happened to you?!” He questioned as he moved towards the other man, gently lifting his chin up to get a better look at the markings.

TK winced, “It’s not as bad as it looks, I swear, I just hit a car during my shift last night…”

Carlos interrupted before he could finish, “You were hit by a car?! That’s something you tell me when you get in, TK!”

He didn’t appreciate the aborted eye roll he got in return, “I did not get hit by a car, I hit the car.”

Carlos was confused, “How can you hit a car? Explain now. Did Tim or Nancy check you over?” he questioned as he moved to lift up his boyfriends sleep shirt and find any other damage. The whole right-hand side of TK’s body was a mottled range of purple, black and blue. But overall it didn’t look worse than some bruising.

“Car slide over the top of a ditch with the rain, went down on a rope to check it, lost my footing and hit off the car. That’s how I hit a car, me being clumsy. And yes, they had a look and it’s just bruises, no breaks.” As he explained TK shifted a little to rest his thankfully clear forehead against Carlos’ shoulder with a sigh. “As much as I want to be asleep right now, sleeping on my side was not the most relaxing experience.”

Pressing a kiss to TK’s head, Carlos sighed, “You taken anything for it yet?” He felt more than seen the other man nod in the affirmative before rubbing his back. They both needed some more sleep, that much was clear. “How can I help?”

The tension drained from both their shoulders as they stood in the quiet and thankfully reasonably dark kitchen, “Unless you know how to stop me rolling over onto my right while I’m asleep, I’m not sure. I’ll be fine.” TK replied as he placed his mug on the counter and rested his chin on where he assumed the end of Carlos’ collarbone was under his sweater, peering up at his boyfriend through tired eyes.

Shuffling them over to the couch Carlos smiled gently, “I might have an idea.” Removing his arms from TK’s waist he quickly turned on the TV to whatever movie they had been watching previously, letting it start to play even though neither was paying much attention to it. Guiding TK down onto his left side against the back cushions of the couch, Carlos manoeuvred them, so he was on his back with his boyfriend laying on his chest, allowing the other man to have all his weight on his left and supporting the sore skin. “That work?” he asked.

TK nodded and sighed as he started to relax again, helped by the fingers his favourite cop was trailing through his hair, the calm and the painkillers starting to have their desired effect. Watching as the firefighter drifted towards sleep, Carlos turned his attention towards the movie playing in the background. He had no idea what was happening, they had not been watching it too closely the other night either but for very different reasons. The slow rise and fall of the chest resting on his own and the dark quiet noise around him was enough to release any adrenaline he had and for sleep to beckon once again. Glancing down he confirmed TK was enjoying some well-earned sleep before he let himself join him. They would be okay, although he may need to order some bubble wrap. Clumsy boyfriends.

#tarlos #9-1-1 lone star #911 lone star #Carlos Reyes #tk strand #immortal writings of the strand variety #eek I'm actually really nervous about posting this

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fairytsuk1 · 4 years ago

Text

falling back to peace (a)

part of the autumn experiences collection.

pairing: shoto todoroki x reader

genre: zombie apocalypse!au, angst

warnings: suicide, blood

words: 2.2k

summary: i miss our warm bed and the cuddles in the morning.

prompt: apocalypse

Blood splashed noisily on the wall. The drips and the sound of the initial slap were absolutely disgusting; you'd grown used to it. Todoroki yanked the dagger out swiftly and shoved it into its casing before turning to you.

"How's your ankle? Can you keep going, or do you need to rest?" His eyes flitted down to the foot hovering just above the ground and frowned.

"It's tender. But I can keep going!"

Your boyfriend crouched down and took hold of the tip of your shoe. He flexed your foot back towards your shin and shushed you when you gasped. The back rooms of the mall you'd been wandering were mostly empty aside from a few stragglers. Obviously, you didn't want to bring unnecessary attention to yourselves if you could avoid it.

"It's warm. You're working too hard. I told you to tell me if it got worse."

His tone is sharp and has a slight edge to the natural baritone. He's stressed, you're both hungry and haven't found a single crumb. He didn't want to return back to your newly found group empty-handed. They were already wary of you two. Plus, the streets were not safe to be walking out and about like before.

He sighed and looked up at you, heterochromatic eyes boring into yours to guess how he was feeling. You looked at the cracks on the ceiling and counted how many stains littered the beige roof.

"Please look at me," Todoroki felt like he'd go insane if he didn't see your eyes. They were so warm and carried so much humanity, he thought he might seriously lose it if he didn't look at something alive within the next minute, "please."

Guiltily, you look down at your lover. There's a glassy film that clouds the orbs, and it just barely shines under the light. He offers a small smile before kissing your bruised bone, mindful of the dirt and grime before standing up. You're so little. When you blink, fat tears roll down your cheeks. Quickly, he tugs you into his shirt; he smells so clean.

Todoroki had made a decision at the very beginning of this nightmare that no matter what, he'd smell the same. It was hard to carry so many bottles of the comforting scent of amber cologne, but he did it for you. You liked the smell of autumn, he figured he would try to be a pillar for you.

"You smell good."

"I know. Please don't cry anymore."

You sniffled once, then two times more before pulling away and rubbing at your eyes. He cringed and pulled a tissue out of his bag before patting the sensitive skin. A smile tugged your lips, and he swore his heart jumped.

"You baby me, you know that? The girls at the camp gave me a hard time for it."

Snickering, he pecks your nose and turns around, "you are my baby. They must be really jealous if that's what they want to talk about."

You covered your laugh with your hand and grabbed his own with your free one. You let out a loud final giggle before quieting down and beginning to walk side by side.

He slowed his pace down for your sake, and you were immensely grateful. Your ankle really did hurt quite a bit. You two were connected though, the same thoughts circling each other like a schoolyard game. The group you two had found was okay, not too small and not too big, but it was harsh. They expected a lot from you two, and you felt sorry watching your Shoto do so much labor while you washed clothes.

The fact that they wanted you two to prove yourselves was irritating too. Naturally, both of you were hardened and healthy survivors. You didn't need to prove yourselves to anyone! That wasn't how things were dealt with, though; the constant scrutinization was almost as bad as the lack of rations you received.

Things just weren't fair nowadays, watching all your hard-earned canned goods get used for a stew that you only got a cup of. The anger inside you bubbled once again. You were stuck doing the womanly activities but then expected to pick up the slack and then be told to deal with the unjustness of it all?

"It's bullshit."

"Huh?"

"The group's shit. I hate it." You spoke with the voice of someone who had felt indignation to the highest degree with a splash of sadness. You were so tired.

Todoroki sighed and nodded. He felt the same. He was keeping you safe, but that didn't mean it was easy to wake up at five in the morning. He barely saw you as well. Some days, you were stuck inside till the sun went down. Other times, the strain they put on you was too much, and he begged them to ease up. This group had a lot of expectations.

He missed Midoriya. He just wanted to sleep.

Your ankle...that was another story. He'd been stealing medicine for you. He'd used to be a good person, to know right from wrong and that stealing was bad. When it came to his girlfriend, he'd kill for her. He knew this, and she knew this. So when he saw the painkillers sitting so openly on the shelves, he took them. He was relieved to see how much better you felt, but he knew that they'd be onto him soon. Naturally, he'd deal with that situation when you two got to it. For now, he needed a map of the mall so he could figure out how to get the fuck out of here--

"Is this a coffee shop!?" Todoroki hadn't even realized he'd spaced out till he saw you peeking your head through a door.

"What? Hey, be careful!" he grunted and grabbed your waist to support you before opening the door fully.

"Look, it is! There's coffee machines and tons of cups!"

The simple things nowadays were the best. Forgoing the pleadings of rest from your ankle, you ambled forward and picked up a bag of beans.

"They even have the ones I used to use for coffee nearly every day! You were more of a tea guy, maybe they have a few spare packets…" trailing off, you began to open cabinets like second nature to find food, "I'll try and look for stuff that might have lasted!"

"If they have black tea, grab me some, please."

Todoroki let his hand rest on the small of your back before walking past the counter. It seems these people had used their common sense and closed the security gates, effectively locking out the dead. He frowned when the smell of rotting bodies permeated through the air when he passed by the bathroom.

"Bathroom's out of order, so if you want to go…"

"Hah, you sure that's all you wanted to do in a bathroom?"

He smirked and winked before turning to the counter of creams and sugars. Nothing useful.

You, on the other hand, swear that opening the cabinet of boxed mixes might have been like discovering America. Without the genocide, of course. There were tons of mixes for sweets and different types of bread. Pushing them aside, cold metal shocked you as if it was burning hot. You reached in and pulled out the can, a grin taking over your face and your stomach grumbling the loudest it's ever had.

"Shoto, have you ever had cherry pie?"

"...Like once or twice, I think. Why?"

"Well, it'll be my job to make it for you then!" you turned and held the can out, the bright red packaging matching his dual-toned hair, "cherry pie filling!"

For the first time in a minute, his smile matched yours as he quickly rounded the corner. He took the can, and for a second, you saw the boyish grin he used to sport in high school. So genuine, there weren't many happy moments in this life anymore. That's why you treasured every time one showed up. You drank in this moment and seared it into your brain. You didn't name it then. Only later.

You decided that moment was called, "The last time you were happy."

Getting out of the mall was easy when you had a seasoned fighter by your side. You swear that your boyfriend could've been an actual samurai with the way he swung zombies out of the way with ease. You had taken brief looks at him as you did your best to run alongside him, the cherry tin bouncing around in your bag.

His hair bounced with every step, and you could feel tears brimming in your eyes. Why did you want to cry so bad? He looked at you and gave you a confused look.

"Why are you crying?"

"I don't know."

Perhaps it was the preparation for what would come when you arrived back at the safe zone. There was no warm welcome or claps on the back. It was silent. Though their eyes did the talking for them. The tension in the air was overpowering.

"You're back," Ryuji stalked forward and crossed his arms, "I'll let you tell us first. If you're honest, I might be lenient on you."

Shoto stared and narrowed his eyes before using his forearm to prevent you from standing next to him. He was in protection mode. He didn't break the soul-sucking stare with the leader, but his trembling hand let you understand all you needed to know. This was bad.

It happened in a flash. Ryuji's arm swung up, and guns were aimed from every direction. His yelling was garbled, and you knew Shoto was panicked from the way he kept spinning and spinning. There was no way to escape. The pain in your ankle throbbed. You could practically hear the pulsing in your skull.

"We can compromise this, Ryuji! We got food too! Just stop it with the guns!" You broke through the disassociation and cried out towards the enemy. Didn’t he have any sympathy?

The gunshot that dug into the ground just next to your feet made you scream and back up into Todoroki's hold. If they kick you out, what about your picture of your class? That's yours in your room. You brought it everywhere. The promise ring that you didn't want to get dirty too. The pressed leaves in your old journal and--!

"Get the fuck out!"

You two had slowly begun to back up since the very beginning of the confrontation. You hadn't even realized how much you’d retreated until your back hit the entrance door, causing you to stumble. Your anxiety was through the roof as the guns came closer, you swore you could see down the barrel.

The doors had opened, and you turned to see...so many. It was like all the zombies in the world had been waiting for a feast. There had to be at least one hundred of them. Shoto squeezed your shoulder, and you flinched when your bag was thrown beside you. They weren't really human, were they? These people were monsters.

This was cruel and mean. There was no way you'd be able to survive this. Shoto beat down on the doors and screamed for mercy, but you could only focus on one thing. The photo of your classmates smiling and cherry pie. The zombies grew closer. You felt so bare and empty. You knew you didn’t have the strength to keep going. Not like this.

You also knew that Shoto had aimed a gun at your head whilst you sunk to the ground. He couldn't, wouldn't, watch you turn. Never in a million years did he want to see those dead eyes. For the first time in a while, the tears started to flow. He'd cried so many times, but he always kept it to himself.

"I love you, Shoto,"

"...I love you too."

Acceptance is the first step. Then you don't feel anything after that. Shoto doesn't feel anything once the shot rings out. The tears drip onto the ground but his head is blank. He supposes he should feel something. Anything. He's done this a few times and always felt awful before. Though he can't find the energy. Motivation. He'd worked so hard in his life, he just wanted to rest. How badly he wanted to close his eyes and sleep.

Besides, a part of him had died with you at that moment. He supposes that at least he didn't have to see your eyes. He turns the gun on himself.

Acceptance is the first step. Then, he doesn't feel anything after that. He's had a long life even if it didn't seem that way to those who thought of age as linear. But he'd lived for a long while. Now, he'd have a long rest.

When Ryuji came outside later that night, the two bloodstains remained, but the bodies were gone. Burning somewhere, he assumed. The photo stuck out at him. He crouched down and picked it up. You two looked so in love.

"Too bad. Could've been really helpful."

The picture falls into the dirt, overtaken by nature. Utterly forgotten.

"Shoto... I'm so glad we can rest."

"Me too."

#todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki #bnha shoto #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki angst #shoto todoroki angst #bnha #bnha angst #bnha imagines #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero academia angst

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razorblade180 · 4 years ago

Text

OC test: Survive pt1

Each character has been split off from one another by hard light fields to form a circular ring divided evenly; with a safe zone in the very center. They can all see and hear each other, but that’s it. All characters will face grimm at the same time. The type of grimm is dependent on what will give that individual trouble. Once a character defeats their grimm, it is their choice to what zone they want to go to next to help. The test is over when a winner in every zone has been decided.

Aero:Anybody getting Saw vibes from this, or at least something sinister?

Kovu:It did say “a winner” meaning the grimm might own us.

Summer:Remember the good old days where a test was make breakfast? I do...

Veronica:Just don’t fuck up and you’ll be fine. I’m ready for everything!

Sienna:Aren’t you technically a civilian?

Veronica:Pfft, I can still kick butt. I’m a Xiao Long!

Jacquelyn:I think the test is beginning.

Yujin stretches out her wrists and grabs her sword. It was soon after that ten pools of grimm opened up with Ursa Majors clawing out, fully armored and foaming at the mouth. One final pool had a King TaijituYujin wasn’t expected anything less, yet she was still upset. “I am sick and tired of these stupid things! Why all at once!?”

“Because it’s called survival...” Tenzen said, witnessing dozens of baby deathstalkers marching towards his as hives of lancers swarmed above. “Guess I’m playing exterminator...” he syched himself up, before a Beringel came stampeding in. It beat on it’s chests and let out a roar. “And....fighting baby King Kong...”

Jael hadn’t wasted any time making headway on her test. She knew herself pretty well and what she could handle. That still did not entirely prepare herself to fend of eight fully grown manticore in aerial combat. “So this is a manticore? Yeah, about what I expect .” She said , dodging their fireballs. “Air or land, they seem pretty dangerous. Guess I got no real advantage, yet.”

Sparrow was on the ball. Military training served him well. Armed only with an Atlesian pistol and a fishing rod, he controlled the battle ground. His mother had taught him long ago what his limits were and how to make up for them. A single Sphinx flew down to swipe at him. The young man back stepped and shot a high powered round at its foot. The beast roared before trying to fly.

“Oh no you don’t!” He casted the line right in the Sphinx’s mouth and yanked back down on the injure foot. “You’re gonna move the way I want you to!” Another round hit its front paw, making the creatures spin around, using its snake tail. Sparrow had already dropped the line and cought the second beast. He didn’t hesitate to press his gun right to its eye and blow up the head of the...tail. “Whoo! Still got it!”

While several of the kids quickly understood their enemies, others were left a little perplexed. Sienna was one of these people. “Uhhh I know Remnant is a big place, but since when do grimm look like roaches?” She stuttered.

The question got many to take a glance. Yep, roaches, but not the small kind. These roaches looked on par with the size of house cats. The black insects with bone white wings scattered around the floor. Several stood on two legs while grinding their human-like teeth together that made a shrill noise Sienna found personally irritating. The only Kovu alone seemed to grasp that situation.

“Don’t run! Walk in big circle! They’ll be huddled up that way!” He shouted. Sienna followed his instructions without question. The heard of roaches began following her on two legs while the others reached outward.

“Ohhh don’t like that!” Sienna looked at Kovu with a look that said, “what I’m the actual hell” very apparently. “Kovu-”

“They’re called Feasters. Do not let them swarm you and do not run! They will get on all of their legs and be much faster. Also don’t jump! They fly; just whack them with your chain.”

Sienna did just that. “I hate this I hate this I hate this, they’re so many! And that stupid noise!!!! Agh, my ears!” She winced. A second of stopping prompted the infestation to lunge at her like a wave. Sienna quickly tumbled backwards and kept walking. The last thing she wanted was for those things to take a bite of her. All things considered though, this was manageable. The benefit of no semblance she supposed. “How we looking everyone?”

“Peachy!” Veronica yelled, rider kicking a Tar Maw, a voracious gator like grimm that had a bond white back with black carvings. It’s red eyes glared and the tar black underside dripped like a leaky faucet. The sixteen foot beast opened its gaping mouth, hurling up grimm fluid before diving into it and through the ground subsequently; as it the dirt itself has become as flowing as water. Veronica phased through the ground to try and hit it from underneath but was shocked to see the beast diving down for her. Along with two more smaller but equally dangerous Tar Maws. Quickly, Veronica shot upward through the ground and into the air to barely avoid the the creatures that burst through the ground almost as forceful as her.

“As if one wasn’t enough.” Veronica snarled. Her body rolled forward midair to deliver a swift axe kick to one of the grimm’s hid, knocking it into the others. “I think Summer and I finally agree on something! I miss breakfast tests!”

“Glad you see it my way...” Summer groaned, watching a Arma Gigas rise. She looked over to her brother’s section to see the same exact expression of annoyance. Of course he had one as well. Nick looked at her as if she could do anything about it. “I know, it sucks.”

“Royally.” He added. Nick armed himself with Mort Froide and placed 15 upright ice glyphs around it in a diamond formation. His next move was summoning a gigas blade in his left hand before running towards the emerging knight that has yet to form from the shins down. With limited options it swung its blade which Nick proceeded to jump onto an continuing his charge towards its face. “I’ve killed one before. I can do it again!” Nick jumps at the face to slash it but is knocked back by a headbutt. Fully formed, the gigas bends its knees to prepare a jumping slash. However, blades of ice rockets out of the glyphs, wedging themselves between the knees and ankle armor space to stall movement long enough for Nick to recover. He runs his head and grunts, “Gah, okay. This one has a bet more heft. Noted...”

Valerie watched her two closest friends head off to fight their grueling challenge. “Always setting the pace.” She faced forward towards a fresh Nucklevee, free of any armor but still big enough to be a problem. “What, is this some kind of generational test? Too bad dad isn’t here. He’d love this!” Valerie leaped forward, twirling her battle axe before smashing it into the ground to break up the floor. “Can’t let move easily.” She leaped again.

The Nucklevee shot it’s arms out into the crushed floor and then upwards, it’s hands full of rocks. They flew up and over Valerie before crushing the rubble. A cloud of dirt and debris rain down and struck her back, throwing her balance off. Both arms came plummeting downwards to wrap her up and slammed them into the earth.

“It’s thinking!? But it’s new!” Valerie struggled trying to break free of the elastic grasp. “Huh?” She looked up to see the horse mouth exhale a plume of black smoke along the floor and headed right to her. “That’s not good...” through pure strength and will, Valerie got to her feet and started pulling with all her might. The arms wiggled and where dragged up from the ground but would not break. The fog crawled closer and closer until the edges of it began stinging her skin on her ankles like fire. “Gah! Aw screw it!” She yelled, taking a deep breath and releasing the tension of her struggling. Her entire body slingshotted forward through the smoke and to the best, striking it with a double kick to the skeleton like face. It’s arms finally loosened enough for her to escape. She went to sever an arm until the beast turned around and struck her with it’s massive hind hooves. Val tumbled back and onto her legs. A strange numbness and pain resided in her ankles. Moving felt...odd. Valerie looked up to see the fog continue to spread and the beast beginning to charge. “Tsk..” Maybe it was best her father wasn’t here after all?.

In a other section, a much better circumstance was taking place for Lucas. The man effortlessly weaved around the onslaught of razor sharp feathers, bouncing some back to clip the Nevermore wings that sent them. It helped, but only a little considering he was dealing with an entire flock. Multiple enemies that used a wind ranging attack with multiple projectiles. Quite the headache for one who sees the future. So he did what he always did, not even try.

“One thing at a time Lucas. This moment, right now.” He said to himself as more feathers rained. He transformed his blade into a whip and began flailing it to deflect only what he could see and hear coming his way. The moment he found an opening he would swimg the whip around the bird’s neck and yank it down for him to cleave it. A simple strategy, effective. However, it was time consuming. Not a problem for him specifically, but his mind could only think about the people around him. He hadn’t been paying close attention to all of them, but the screaming grimm he could hear outside his zone let him know they weren’t all getting lucky in this test. “EVERYONE OKAY!?”

“NO!” Aero cried as he crashed to the ground, his wings covered in webs. The flexed it off the best he could while avoiding Soul Suckers, enormous spider grimm that had a real bad habit of draining aura and turning people into soulless husks that were robbed of will. Seven of the bastards shot dense web at him in an attempt to do just that. Aero spread his wings and slammed them towards the ground, rocketing himself upward with one powerful flap. “I AM NOT EQUIPPED FOR THESE!”

“They have spider grimm!?” Lucas said with concern. “That’s just sadistic...”

“You’re telling me!?” Aero looked over to Mona’s section, who was dealing with a single Goliath. Her spry nature allowed her to maneuver around its legs, quickly attacking. Unfortunately she was up against a Goliath. Simple daggers might as well be paper cuts. “You hanging in there Mona!?” He asked before having to dodge more webs.

“Worry about yourself Bird Boy!” She yelled sprinting. Mona went into a one armed hand spring onto its trunk and rolled onto its back, sliding down it with her dagger running through it shallowly before hitting armored bone; killing her momentum and hurting her shoulders. “Shit!” She winced. She yanked her blade out and jumped off as the Goliath’s trunk tried grabbing her. “Uuuggh this big bitch might as well be made of clay!” She pulled out her second dagger and took one giant lunge that sent her flying like a bullet. Mona began spinning like a sideways buzz saw as she went by the grimm’s left and right leg, making an average size gash. Not enough to cripple it but enough to piss it off.

The thief couldn’t stop her speed correctly and ended up tumbling along the ground and barely missing a tree. Her head buzzed loudly and her vision blurred enough to not realize the two ton monster charging until it was severely feet away. “Oh f-” she tried blocking. The tusks were aimed right for her blades but suddenly, her entire body was shot up in the air and away from the attack. “Aaah! What the heck!?”

“Stop screaming!”

Mona was spun around to see Eliza hovering with the power of wind. “How the- you finished!?”

“Yeah I had those gross centipedes and a couple annoying alphas with majors as well.” Eliza said. She causally pointed behind her to a zone charred beyond belief. “My semblance was useless so I had to go all out from the start. Guess you’re in a similar situation? Let’s waste this thing.”

“Hmm you’re lucky I like the way you look. I’ll take you up on that, not that needed help.”

“Whatever you say. Maybe I should’ve checked in with Kovu!” She looked his way. “But considering with Carmine said I’m sure his challenge-”

“oPeN UuuP...” gurgled a cold, torn voice. One that reached all ears, freezing grimm and human alike. It came from Kovu’s section. There the young man sat pinned and shaken up. Nothing but the dust barrier against his back and his own bubble-like barrier in front of it, constructed from his golden aura. The thing gnawing it, a very big and very aggressive Hound. It’s teeth grated against the aura, barely cracking it but cracking it nonetheless. “oPeN UuuP...”

Kovu’s face dripped sweat. His arms were completely stiff from trying to maintain his gaurd. “Guys, I don’t want to sound needy, but...” he grunted.

Several of his friends began working harder on their matches. Yujin and Veronica in particular had a fire lit inside them to make sure Kovu would be okay.

“Hang on Kovu!” Yujin yelled. “Just give me a bet of time and-”

“I thought you wanted to be a huntsman?” Carmine interjected, gaining Kovu’s attention. “I thought you wanted to try and catch up to me, but you’re asking for help this quickly? Not only that, but now you’ve caused others to worry more about you which could make them rush and make a mistake that’ll be disastrous. Hmm, I thought better of you than that.” She said bluntly.

He said nothing. Veronica on the other hand. “Hey!” She had a few words. “Isn’t that your cousin!? You of all people should be-”

“Worried?” Carmine finished. “I’m not saying I’m not, but I’m more worried about the thing behind me, I’m case none of you payed attention.” Carmine looked over her shoulder to the massive grimm pool that all but filled the entire area and continued to flow.

Of course nobody else noticed. It wasn’t big enough to caste a shadow over them all until this moment. Once again eyes looked to see the danger but it was their ears that heard it before anything else. A deafening roar that shook the ground like a disaster. Carmine fully turned around to look at her opponent. It was cruel. Downright evil to the letter. What could she have possibly done to earn-

“Leviathan!?” Tenzen yelled.

“I know right? It’s ridiculous.” Carmine said, a bead of sweat running down her head. “I rather switch with Jacquelyn.”

“Hehe, is that a fact?” She laughed nervously, witnessing the creation of a fully realized dragon staring her down as the shook off excess fluid. Yet another huge thing that nobody but Carmine was aware of apparently because they were once again floored. Not necessarily at the beasts even though they were scary, but because that was two people’s test!”

Yujin looked briefly at Carmine in awe. “You can take down Leviathan!?”

“What? Hell no! Are you crazy!?” Carmine said, unapologetically. “That thing is a kingdom killer! Look it’s flattering that you all seem to think I’m super badass but you do know I’m one person right?”

“Well when you say it like that I sound stupid. Didn’t Ruby beat one of those?” Yujin said, dodging.

“My mother flashed her eyes while a giant robot sucker punched it with a drill. Her eyes didn’t even do much but make it stuck for three seconds. Nobody just beats a Leviathan!” Carmine brandished her sword to face it. Her eyes looked back towards to see her cousin still struggling. “....Did you all know Kovu has never beaten me in a fight? He’s always been a pretty average fighter. That being said, I could never knock him out or keep him down for long. He’s resilient as hell. Almost like surviving is his special talent.”

“Carmine...” Kovu uttered.

“Surviving doesn’t mean winning. I’m definitely not about to win this and I doubt Jacquelyn over there is coming up with a grand slam plan to solo a dragon. Buying time though, I can do that all day.” The leviathan shot out a breath of immense flames. Carmine dove out of the way immediately. “Do not make me do this all day. I’m tired. Twenty minutes at best. More than enough time for anyone to lend a hand and then some, right?” Without another word, she got to work.

Carmine was an odd ball. If she had said anything like that to a stranger, it may have come off as rambling. But those around her in this test, they got the girl’s message. Kovu most of all, while Jacquelyn understood from the start given her enemy. Twenty minutes. Nobody was to aid her for that long or to worry. Carmine had temporarily removed herself the equation. One less thing for other’s to worry about.

“Twenty one.” Kovu said. “I got this mutt right where I want him for twenty one minutes.” Sure he was being optimistic, but this barrier bursting wasn’t game over right away. Like Carmine said, he was resilient.

Jacquelyn couldn’t help but smile. Part of it was the touching pep talk. The other was nervousness because no way was she about to put herself before kids. “Ah what the hell. I’m the winter maiden. A badass one at that. Thirty.” Her eyes glowed.

“Of course they want to out do me” Carmine chuckled. Alright everyone, nothing fancy! Those who know they can win, will. All others, do this test, survive!

Finally the stage was set. Everyone was on track. “Right!!!”

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haiky-u-lously · 4 years ago

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King Kuroo and the Red Knights (13)

Summary: A Camelot AU where King Arthur is Kuroo Tetsuro, and the Knights of the Roundtable of characters from seasons 1-4 of the HQ anime. Eventual Kuroo X Reader.

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Humor, Eventual Romance

Warnings: Mentions of stalking and abuse of power, Language, Angst in feelings, Eventual gore and fighting

Word Count: For Chapter: ~4000words

Questions/Comments/Concerns/Ideas welcome as always. Enjoy! –Admin Red

Chapter 13: Round 1C

“Do you have many tournaments in your home?” The King questioned you as he took his seat while the arena was cleared of the fallen trash from the stands surrounding it.

Shaking your head in the negative, you also moved to take a seat.

“Generally we hold them in celebrations, or as contests for some big prize.” He said, smiling while you presumed he reminisced about past memories. “When my father got sick and I had more responsibilities placed on me, I ended up planning almost one a month to give me a reason to expel some of my stress. The men, they just went right along with my whims.” His eyes took a fond look over them as he paused in his spiel, “But the month he died, I didn’t feel like doing much of anything. It took much effort on all of their parts to get me to do regular duties, let alone plan and prepare tournaments. Yuurei too had more burdens to bear from my lack of control over my own state. She had to do a lot more that one month than any Queen in Camelot’s history.” Kuroo shook his head, before bringing a small smile back to his face. “Sorry about that, kind of went off there for a bit didn’t I?” He seemed to try and laugh away the serious atmosphere he’d created, but you knew there was more in his head.

Unfortunately, now wasn’t the time to press him further, but let him get away with shaking off his own concerns.

He faced you with a wide grin, “So, is Sugawara a good fighter?”

You nodded, thinking to yourself about memories past. Your cousin was one of the youngest men to be granted the title of Red Knight. He was exceptional when it came to forming strategies, and using things and those around him to win battles. His fighting skill, while not being the top of the order, was nothing to laugh at.

“Have you fought him yourself?” Kuroo asked you, and you thought you heard a teasing tone in his questioning, but you just smiled to yourself before nodding. “Interesting, interesting. I’d ask deeper questions,” He laughed and then added, “But I know you won’t answer out loud, so I won’t press the matters. But, just know I do want to ask more than simple yes and no questions.”

Nodding once more, you accepted the King’s explanation for what it was, as just a way for him to express himself.

“Hey, hey hey!” Bokuto called from behind your sitting pair, approaching the side of Kuroo’s chair happily, “Did you see my win? Pretty great, wasn’t it!” He shouted, excitedly pumping his fists in the air before taking what had been Suga’s seat. “Sorry I missed your fight, Red Knight. But, now we get to face one another, that’ll be great!” He smiled to you, leaning far forward to see you around the other side of the King’s sitting form.

Bobbing your head in response, you grinned behind your mask. This knight in particular was overly excitable, and that was something you could use as a tactic in your fight against him.

Your vision was caught by movement from the tunnels into the heart of the stadium. Two knights walked in, side-by-side from either entrance. By the lack of marks on his borrowed uniform, you could tell which was your cousin, and noted that he walked in next to a knight marked in dark teal. By the way the two seemed to interact, you pieced together that he was entering the field with Futakuchi. Which meant the pair of knights entering the arena opposite were Semi and Yamagata, both marked with purple boxes. They were distinguished by one box having a vertical white stripe on the left half and the other bearing a horizontal white stripe on the top half.

Though in the moment it was hard to tell which knight was which, you knew you’d find out as soon as they split up for their fight.

Seeing Suga being friendly with the magician of Camelot made you happy that you’d switched places with him, and though not for the first time that you found more pleasure in it than just as a selfish reason.

You watched as the two men high-hived before your friend continued forward to his side of the makeshift battlefield. And despite yourself, you wondered what they’d been discussing.

Shaking your head to rid yourself the thoughts swirling in your mind, and ultimately deciding that you should trust Suga’s words that he’d win his fight and that you should watch Futakuchi’s.

Before Kuroo could begin the bout, you were finally able to distinguish between the two knights marked in purple and white. The horizontal striped one apparently was Yamagata as he stood with Suga, while the vertical striped one still approached Futakuchi’s side.

____________________________

Suga spun your blades against his palms, flashing the pristine shine against the sunlight to catch his opponent’s eyes. The pause in his spinning wrist, told the makeshift squire that he’d achieved the desired effect.

“These blades belong to the royal family of the Order. Passed down from generations since they are made from what is now an extinct substance.” He smiled behind the chainmail sticking out from under his borrowed helmet.

The giant metal ball hanging from the chain of Yamagata’s flail swung back and forth with the after force from the swing coming to a succinct halt.

“Are those really an alexandrite and painite pair of blades?” While unable to see the knight’s face, the heavy tone of shock and awe in his voice told the visiting fighter that the knight in front of him was primed for their battle.

When the King of Camelot shouted for the bout to begin, Suga took the brief time of his opponent's confusion to lung forward.

He elbowed Yamagata in his vambrace, knocking the fighter’s shield out of the way, and let the flail wrap itself around the alexandrite stiletto. However, to his surprise, pulling back on the blade didn’t pull the weapon from Semi’s hand.

The knight of Camelot must have regained his focus as he gritted his teeth, tightened his hold on his weapon of choice and twisted his shield wielding arm around to Suga’s breast plate and pushed him away.

Suga managed to untwist his blade from Yamagata’s flail before being shoved back, but had to quickly adjust to defending as his opponent went on the attack.

Spinning, the ball of metal kept Suga’s focus and he was forced to think solely on defense instead of how to attack. It was definitely a well practiced tactic, and in his mind, the silver-haired fighter applauded his counterpart. Unfortunately, he couldn’t break his word to the Princess of his home, he couldn’t break his promise to his cousin, his best friend. He had to find a way to counter the attack, not only defend.

Busy with his thoughts, the unmarked knight lost his footing and fell back against the hard ground.

Yamagata took note and moved fast as his flail flung over his shoulder , into the air and began rushing towards the cuirass protecting Suga’s upper chest. In the brief time that the resistance of the air between them gave him, your friend rolled to his side and the metal round hit the near solid earth.

Without really thinking, Sugawara rolled back to his original fell position--trapping his opponent’s weapon between the earth and the rear of his pauldron. The purple marked knight struggled as the chain attached to his wooden stick resisted his pull. Behind his helmet, his face contorted as he tried to manipulate the angle of the pull as the unmarked knight furthered the trap by squeezing his arm against his side, keeping the chain locked and the ball stuck where it fell.

Suga took the moment to try and think of an attack strategy. He realized that his opposite had at some point let go of his shield, and that he was using both hands in an attempt to tear back his weapon. Blinking slowly, he recalled a move he’d seen you do against some of the others back when you were still allowed to train and not sneaking behind the King’s orders to do so.

______________________

“(Y/N)!” he’d yelled out as he helplessly watched your body be flung into the ground. Your opponent was much larger than most of the knights in training. He knew the King had the instructors set this line-up to try and convince you to make the decision yourself to withdraw from this line of work.

You had barely caught your breath before the towering, older trainee hovered above you. Your lying form pulled up by the collar of your shirts, you were swinging at the forearm of your current sparring partner. A tight frown took over your features and your cousin watched as the man sneered at you, “Stupid royals, thinking you’re such tough pits. This ought to teach you why those idiots died so easily.”

He pulled back his dominant arm, preparing a full fledged power punch. And Suga saw as you half attitude-half fearful demeanor turned into pure rage. Your eye color flashed between a myriad of hues before settling on your natural shade, your lower half swung through the air, trapping your opponent’s arm and neck between your thighs right before you started to squeeze. The fighter’s shoulder blade must have been pressured against his airways as his face began to darken and everyone watching saw as his group loosened on your clothes. Your legs tighten their hold further as you cross your ankles and swing the lower half of your body to replicate a handstand before continuing the flip. Forcing the opposer to his backside and screaming through clenched teeth until he passed out and the adults in charge rushed to try and pry you off the other trainee.

________________________

The memories of other times you’d accomplished similar feets rushed through his mind and Suga’s mind locked onto one path to victory.

His legs spun over Yamagata’s head, his upper body keeping the flail trapped in its place as he brought his opponent face first into the dirt beneath him. His legs hooked under the dark haired knight’s arms as he practically sat on his backside.

With the weapon no longer in anyone’s hands, it fell limp between Suga’s arm and side. Grabbing it with three fingers while holding the painite sai with the other two, he flung it across the field and out of reach.

Yamagata’s head sat on its side, as he huffed in anger about how easily he’d been caught and disarmed. He knew he shouldn’t have changed weapons with Satori, but his friend just had to match Terushima for his fight. Guiding his breath back to a normal pace, the dark haired fighted thought about what his next play could be. Knowing his opponent helf two blades, even small ones like a sai and stiletto, was a troubling factor as he had nothing left but his armour. If he could only get the flail back...bucking his hips, he caused Suga to slightly waver in his solid position, Yamagata dropped to a lying flat position before lifting his upper body up by his arms and sliding Suga so far down his backside he could pull his legs up to his chest and bounce to a standing position. Spinning as soon as he did to face the visiting fighter for hand to hand combat.

Suga saw the stance and thought how he wished to proceed, to showcase your blades or disarm himself to fight with his body alone.

“COME ON THEN!” He heard Camelot’s King shouting, and a quick glance over his shoulder allowed him to see that King Kuroo was watching his fight with a look of pure joy across his features. While he couldn’t see your face, your body language told him you weren’t even watching his battle. Taking this to mean you expected a proper outcome from him, he held the painite sai such that all three tips stuck between the fingers of his gloves. The stiletto held by his fist.

Yamagate rushed Suga’s form, your cousin slightly jumping as the Camelot knight went low for a better hold of his missed target. Swimming the stiletto back, the tip rested against the chainmail beneath the purple marked knight’s helmet.

“Yield.” Suga warned, putting enough force into the blade that it could not be further ignored.

To his favor, the dark haired knight could sense the bloodlust in that single word. His fist slammed into the ground in anger as he realized he was out of options. Mentally he tallied that it's two losses for his team within the knights, making half of them out of the tournament. He felt like he’d let everyone down by becoming the fiftieth percent.

The unmarked knight pulled back the alexandrite stiletto enough for Yamagata to rest back on his greaves.

“Good fight Sugawara,” He commented, taking his helmet off before resting his hands on his knees, leveling out his breath before trying to move.

Taking off his own head protector, your friend smiled down at the man he’d just faced. “You as well Hayato, but I’m guessing you don’t regularly use a flail as your main weapon.” He laughed out at the face flung towards his sneer of a comment. “Gotta admit, had I not accidentally trapped it beneath my shoulder, not sure I would have figured out a quick way out.”

“Don’t try sugar-coating it, it's not helpful having the person who’d just made a complete fool of you tell you it was just luck.” The brown haired knight scowled, looking at his tightly held fists in annoyance.

Suga scoffed before taking a seat next to him, “Every fight has a shred of luck in it, and despite the attitude I believe you know that to be true. It's not that I won solely because of luck, it was that luck allowed me the slight chance to utilize skills I’ve developed through training and hard work. Just as past battles have allowed you. I am sorry if you feel I was...what did she always call it...badgering you about your loss, truly.”

Yamagata looked at him fully, recognizing the honesty and sincerity in his voice. “Badgering, huh? Guess that is as good a way to say you were picking on me as any. Can’t say I’ve heard it before. Who exactly said it always?” Half joking, half really wondering, Hayato pushed his thought forward, “Your princess cousin?”

“Yes.” Suga answered bluntly, spinning the stiletto against his open palm and watching the light alexandrite blade sparkle in the sun’s rays.

“Oh.” Was all he could respond with before glancing away from the man beside him. Thinking it must be hard to be away from someone you were so close with, without knowing when you’d see them again.

The pair stood at the same time, shook hands and then walked off the field.

_________________________

“Are you not watching your friend fight?” The King sat beside you had asked at the very beginning.

Shaking your head in the negative, you fully turned your body away from the pair in question facing the King’s magician.

“Ouch, guess he must have upset you in some manner. Well, as he is the only one to speak with you I am sure you’ll have to talk to him soon enough. But if you ever need an escape I am sure any of the knights would be willing to tour you around the main city.”

Smiling to yourself at his kindness, you considered using your powers to send him your thoughts as you did with Suga. However, you thought better of it before taking action. It had only been a week, these people couldn’t even tell what your cousin could do, let alone yourself. If you shared too much too soon, it could spell disastrous. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath you focused on watching the match before you.

__________________________

It seemed odd that Futakuchi held a two pronged weapon to you. One end matching Aone’s mace while the other looked to be a bill. The hook coming off the sharp tip protruding in a way that made you tilt your head in wonder of what his power play would be.

The attendant held the weapon with both hands, either end facing the sides rather than forward towards his opponent.

Semi however stood in front of the magician, head free from the protection offered by a helmet, nor chainmail set against his cranium hiding his hair. The dark-gray strands cadging his face in a light that reminded you of Suga whenever he scowled at you as teens. Attached to his back was the sheath for a machete, which he seemed to be reaching for as he seemingly moved in slow motion. You noted a couple other sheaths attached to his armour with other weapons ready to be drawn.

In an instant, you nearly missed as his hand wrapped around the handle of his main blade and he flung it straight at Futakuchi before it was completely pulled from its carrying place. The opponent also barely catching on to the fighter’s plan as his magic, or a very dulled down version of it in any case stopped the thick piece from hitting his own protective headgear right between the eye slits.

Before you could blink, Semi was in front of Futakuchi’s barely balanced form with a tanto fisted with the thumb on the flat rear. The sharp tip of the blade striking from its hold against the magician as he tried to put space between his attacker and self to utilize his own choice weapon.

He must have determined the big thing as obstructive as his grip loosened enough to pull Semi’s attention slightly, allowing the attendant a split brief in which he pulled a miniature dagger from seemingly nowhere. Pushing it against the tanto and forcing both weapons a safe distance away from the weaker points of his armour.

Semi smiled, as his arm swung back to its original position from a lower angle then how it was ushered away. The magician sneering to himself behind his helmet as he realized Semi had been practicing for such an occasion to face him.

“You can’t beat me every time, Futa.” He whispered into the side of his opponent’s obstructed face. “I’m a knight of Camelot, and as respected and appreciated as you are, to the people you are still meant to be a servant.”

The call from Kuroo towards the fight on the other side of the arena caused you a slip in focus and you weren’t sure how but suddenly Futakuchi was without his large weapon, barely fending off from Semi’s swings of his tanto and a dirk that had made an appearance.

The men battled it out and you were sure that Futakuchi was only using his powers to make a protective layer of energy around himself so as to not feel the brunt of force from the swings connecting with his armour. It stood to reason with his power hold that he should be defeating the knight without issue, and you wondered to yourself if he held similar standards as your troupe. If he did not want to utilize his powers if unnecessary or if he was more inclined to follow your own beliefs. It was a toss up as either would have fit the bill of not using powers against a friend in a mock-battle or training match, but it left a lot of room for questions as well.

Dooking it out some more, you felt a draw to look over at Suga, turning your head, you saw him jump aside from Yamagata’s rush and figured it was your imagination playing tricks on you. Focusing back on the pair you were determined to watch, you saw a glint of gold flash from behind Futakuchi’s helmet. Semi’s tanto swinging arm stopped midair, Futakuchi ducked beneath it and rushed to get behind his opponent before releasing the appendage and letting the swing complete its path.

Unfortunately, the short lived victory was...short lived. The gray-haired knight spun a one-eighty and right-hooked Futakuchi’s chin into the air. Knocking his helmet off and sending it flying as well as forcing the magician to shoot enough inches into the air that his own body flung back.

Thumbing his chin, still practically lying on the ground, the attendant grumbled to the knight, “Nutting toff! I give, happy?”

Smiling down at the brown haired man, Semi smiled with a killer grin, “Seeing me win does indeed make me happy.” He winked at Camelot’s magician, and you heard as many of the girls in the stands screamed at his apparent beauty.

Holding a hand out to help him up, the knight relinquished whatever pride he’d been fighting with. Taking it, Futakuchi showed he held no malice towards his counter. The two made way to pick up their discarded weapons and left the battlefield without another word spoken in front of any prying eyes.

“Good fight?” The King asked you, seeing as both battles were now finished.

Nodding your head, you thought about what could have been the reason behind such an easy defeat on the magician’s part. Recalling that he was pressed to beat the men, and that many thought Camelot’s magician would face your own in Suga. Now with that not as an option, you couldn’t help but question yourself as to why.

“Can I overshare again?” Kuroo seemed hesitant to ask. Nodding simply, you turned to face him, giving the King the full attention he seemed to desire at the moment. “I can’t remember the last time I fought with someone sitting in this box. Yuurei always seems to be caught up or sick or not around, Daishou either is fighting or not around. The knights never feel like they can be here long--even Bokuto does as before where he drops in, says his piece and leaves without saying a word. I’ve always felt like if I am here, everyone can feel me watching them and they can get a sense of strength from that, but whenever I really think about how this box is empty when I fight...it’s not a good feeling to say the least.”

You caught yourself from pitying him, he was a King, and while yes he was currently spilling a deep thought of his to you, you knew it was more because you wouldn’t be able to tell anyone more so than him wanting to actually talk to you. This was something he as a person needed to get off his chest so that he could continue being the royal his people needed, and being a royal yourself you understood that better than anyone else.So, you would let him get it out.

“I like the tournaments despite that though, because it brings such joy to the citizens and the men. I’d go through it every day if it could help even one more person. And I’m sure you’d agree to that sentiment since you seem to have such a strong sense of justice.”

Wait, what? His comment caught you off guard.

“It’s not so much as I think we are kindred spirits, but I am pretty sure you are the offspring of the Order’s King as your friend stated that first night. And, should that case be truth, I feel you would understand where I am coming from.” He smiled at you directly, and it took more willpower than you would ever admit to not move under the blinding features. “Thanks again for participating in the tourney, and for the heavy assist last week during the raid on the castle. From one royal to another, I truly appreciate having been able to meet your acquaintance.”

With his comments apparent to be done, the King strode out of the viewing box without another word.

You sat back, dumbstruck and frozen in the time it took Suga to return and lose his mind at your unresponsiveness. Staying mostly ignorant of your surroundings until Futakuchi came into the large stall and said something you didn’t really catch.

_______________________________________________

Author’s message: So, anyone shocked? No? Hmmm... Guess I’ll have to try harder on ROUND 1D.

_______________________________________________ Table of contents:

Chapter 12 Chapter 14

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notchesandbullets · 4 years ago

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Ryokuryuu’s Lifeline

Part 7: The Trap

"Stay away from me!" You hissed venomously as he came closer to you. The officers had done exactly what you had expected them to do: they brought you directly to their boss.

The man everyone was after, Lord Yang Kum-ji of Awa.

They had tried to toy with you, but you refused to give in, fighting with everything you had at your disposal. Only Kum-ji hadn't been that interested in you at first, giving you the opportunity to attach a piece of green metallic cloth on the ship's flag, smirking as the lookout didn't check it and let the color fly. You had planned on staying silent, keeping your head down after you fulfilled what you promised Captain Gi-gan in your letter, but when he started tormenting the two girls across from you who were chained, you couldn't take it anymore. You shouldered your way in front of them, sheltering them behind your body.

You bared your teeth in a vicious snarl to ward him off but Kum-ji ignored your threatening displays. It was clear that he didn't recognize you, eyes light with greed and corrupted hunger, instead of being dark with vengeance.

It was best that you didn't provoke him or jog his memory, so you bowed your head and whimpered, attempting to appear pitiful.

Kum-ji sneered at you, "The pretty lamb doesn't want to play anymore? What happened to all your fire you had just a minute ago?" He taunted.

You didn't fake the flinch as your body reacted to his words, seemingly submitting to his display of power. Your breath came out shaky as you struggled to hold onto the slipping image of Jae-ha in your mind.

His soft green hair.

His vibrant lilac eyes.

The gentle smile that he reserved only for you.

You stiffened as he shackled your wrists behind your back and your feet together. Jae-ha would want you to fight against him. He would want you to come back to him. The lies of not being good enough to deserve his love faded into the background as you looked at it clearly for the first time.

You did deserve to be loved. You were loved.

"You're not getting away from me this time." He spat.

Ah, so he did remember you.

Well, that was unfortunate.

He would have a hell of a time trying to escape the wrath of your family.

Your family.

Kum-ji snickered, assuming that he had finally broken you when tears of anger blurred your vision.

But he couldn't. He couldn't even touch you. What you had probably put Jae-ha through hurt indefinitely more than his words ever could. You had to make it out alive to see him.

To beg for his forgiveness.

You bared your teeth ferociously and Kum-ji's eyes widened at your defiance.

You had stayed in that shadowy room for the whole day. He had ended up chaining you to the bedpost at one point because of how much you were trying to defend the obviously terrified girls by his feet. You used the moves Jae-ha and Captain Gi-gan taught you, breaking free of his hold countless times. He was growing quickly frustrated with you, enlisting the help of his men to keep you still while he taught you a lesson, roughly kicking your stomach until you couldn't lift yourself up anymore.

You knew you wouldn't win against them all, so you struck a bargain with him.

"Let them go, and I'll do whatever you want."

Yang Kum-ji's sadistic smile was less than satisfying, but you needed the girls out of the room and out of harm's way if you were to carry out the next part of your plan. You knew he liked submissive women, that he viewed them not as people, but rather things that needed to look pretty on an arm and not speak. It was clear that he was going to call them back once he was done with you.

You weren't going to give him the opportunity.

You stayed awake the entire day, well into the night, lashing out when he got too close to you, but he came back and struck you in the face with the back of his hand. Your face turned to the side under the force of his blow, spitting out blood. Your head was throbbing in pain, and your right eye threatened to shut under the swelling, bruises forming around it.

You made sure not to intake anything he tried to force you down your throat, knowing it was most likely either drugged or poisoned, but your body was bearing the consequences as you felt exhaustion weigh down your limbs. You weren't used to the lack of food and water, and it was shutting your functions down.

"Throw her in with the others!" He commanded, fed up with your games.

A minute later, you were blindfolded and thrown below deck. You could smell the seawater and feel the slime of seaweed slicked on the floor once they tossed you down.

It wasn't all quiet once they left. You could hear the girls' panicked whispers rise to terrified shouts as one of them started banging on the locked door.

"It's impossible," An unfamiliar voice cut through the atmosphere, silencing everyone. "I was put in here two weeks ago. Nobody came to get me out. To Lord Kum-ji, we're no different than objects."

She sounded defeated... hopeless...

You had to do something. You wriggled into a sitting position, iron cuffs clinking together as you tried to prop yourself up as best as you could with the restrictions.

"Haven't you ever," You stopped struggling, ears straining to hear more as you questioned if you heard right. "... wanted to change this town?"

Yona!

That meant Yoon was here, too...

"Yoon..." You mumbled softly, and within a second your blindfold was tugged off, revealing a battered but relieved genius pretty boy.

"Y/N!" He shuffled behind you, trying to pry off your cuffs, but stopped when you winced in pain.

"Ah..." You hissed, and Yoon pulled back in alarm. "It's fine, just leave it."

Your arms were cuffed behind you, but you scooted backward, bringing your hands underneath your hips and around your ankles so that they were now in front of you.

"Are you hurt?" Your eyes scanned over Yoon's shaking form. Yona was whispering words of inspiration to the disheartened girls, encouraging them to reach out a hand back if someone reaches out theirs to help them. He shook his head and you felt relieved.

"What she's saying it's true," You supported Yona's indirect claim of aligning with the pirates, who unbeknownst to them, were making their way to the ships right then and there. "We're going to escape and we're going to rescue you all. Will you let us?"

Their eyes shimmered with forbidden hope.

"Yoon," You mumbled, and he leaned forwards, straining to hear you. "Where's the firework?"

"In my sash," Came the quiet reply, "It's small but it'll shoot high."

You nodded, now informed. "We've got to get on deck." You mused. "I'll clear a path for you."

Yona and Yoon's eyes widened. It was dimly lit in the cargo hold, but they could still make out the many injuries on your face, blood dripping down from your forehead and Yoon noticed how you kept your arms pressed to your stomach, as if to alleviate the pain.

Together, you tricked one of the guards to come down by banging your restraints against each other, and he clambered down to investigate the noise. Yoon shot a tranquilizer dart at him halfway down, and Yona yanked at the rope by his feet, causing the guard to lose his footing and knock his head against the steps.

Your eyes widened as you heard the sound of cries ringing faintly through the air and swords clashing together.

The battle's started.

"Yoon, we've got to hurry!" You hissed.

"I'll help too." The girl who had seemed so desolate and hopeless before was standing with determination. "My father was a ship's carpenter, I know the layout."

Yona beamed at her offer and she introduced herself as Yuri. Quickly you all made your way out of the ship's cargo hold as silently as you could, not wanting to attract any attention this late into the plan. There were two guards near the entrance leading up to the deck and you gestured for the three of them to hide behind you.

"I'll get their attention, run past them when you have an opening." You instructed firmly. Yona began to protest, voice cracking with anguish at having to leave you behind again, but stopped when she felt your hand resting on your head. "Send up the flare. The girls are our first priority."

Yuri looked between you and Yona, noting the reluctance the red-haired girl had at the idea of parting with you. "I'll help her."

You gave her a nod of thanks, turning swiftly back to Yoon and Yona beside you. "Go. Keep each other safe."

Yoon nodded, pulling Yona behind him to hide behind some crates as they waited for you to make the first move. "Yuri, stay behind me. Do your best to not get captured, that's more important than anything else, understand?"

She dipped her head in understanding, surprised at the turn you took from gentle older sister to merciless battle tactician.

You stepped out into the guards' line of sight, waving at them seductively, eyes hooded. They shouted as they saw you, and you led them towards the back of the ship. Yuri was hidden in the shadows, and you saw Yona and Yoon dart out from their hiding place, effectively making it onto the deck as the guards were distracted by you.

You sidestepped their sloppy attacks easily, enlisting the aid of the swaying ship to time it perfectly. As it swayed to the side abruptly, they became unbalanced and you saw your chance. Lunging at them, you tackled the first one, causing his sword to slide out of sight. The second one didn't get much farther as Yuri hit him over the head, knocking him out. You gave her a subtle glance of approval.

You heard whistling as the firework was launched into the air.

"Go back below deck, free and then gather up the rest of the girls. There will be a lot of shouting above you, don't come out until it dies down, okay?" You ordered, urging her back down.

She hastily nodded and you sprinted towards the hatch, bursting out onto the deck, gagging at the think stench of blood in the air. You saw a flash of crimson hair from the right and your body filled with dread as your eyes landed on the sight in front of you.

Yoon was tied up and getting beaten by a bunch of mercenaries, and Yona was shooting anyone who came close to him with a bow and arrow.

You ignored the question of how she obtained that, opting to kick aside one of the guards attempting to sneak up on her instead of asking how she managed to get her hands on a weapon. The others turned their attention towards you and you grinned, but then you remembered your hands and feet were still chained together.

Time to have some fun then...

You pushed Yona to the side as one of them went to grab her by the hair, effectively grabbing you instead. You snarled, wrapping your cuffed hands around the back of his neck, bringing it down as your knee came up to smash into his chin.

"K-Kill her!" Came the shaky order as he looked at his comrade who laid in a pool of his own blood.

Your tongue grazed over your teeth lightly, poking out of your parted lips that were curled in a confident smirk.

Their numbers quickly overwhelmed you, and you crashed into the floor, face shoved roughly against the wood. You resigned, closed your eyes and accepted your fate.

I 'm sorry, Jae-ha...

Then, wind whipped around you as a familiar set of robes fluttered in front of you, emerald green hair darting into view.

The mercenaries cried out fearfully. "W-Who are you?!"

"I'm the pirate who has submerged countless ships... the pirate who dances through the skies. But more importantly," Violet eyes glinted dangerously, "You had better not approach me recklessly."

Jae-ha growled, "I'll kill you."

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