#the green knight packs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soaps-mohawk · 6 days

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 37: The Silence

Summary: Tensions are at an all time high in the pack as an eerie silence settles over the cottage

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,069 words

Warnings: Angst, heavy emotions, arguing, medical stuff, injuries, descriptions of pain, brief discussion about strangulation, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, panic attack, PTSD, language

A/N: Uh yeah, this one did emotional damage. Prepare yourselves.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

They stand there watching like four knights in a tower guarding their kingdom. Their eyes are glued ahead, staring through the glass out into the backyard. They’re alert and watchful, eyes assessing and scanning for any threats. There are none except for your trembling legs.

They stand there watching like four knights guarding their princess. None of them are brave enough to move, none of them dare break the moment. They can’t help but wonder what’s going on in your head, what drove you to push past the pain and exhaustion to shuffle your way outside.

Panic bubbled in Kyle’s chest when he saw you shuffling your way across the living area. He’d nearly intervened when you stumbled, but John’s hand on his chest stopped him. You were in your own world, oblivious to everyone and everything as you shuffled determinedly toward the back door. They’d silently followed you, Johnny and Simon joining them when they descended the stairs.

All you’ve done is stand out there. It feels like it’s been an hour, but it’s been less than five minutes. You’re frozen there, all except for the tremble of your legs and the subtle shake of your shoulders.

You’re crying.

It hurts his soul. It tears through his very chest as he watches you. He wants nothing more than to run out there and take you in his arms and soothe your tears.

He can’t.

He lost those privileges when they left you, when they betrayed you, when they abandoned you. It may have been John’s choice, but they were all complacent in it. None of them fought that decision, none of them questioned it. Would John have changed his mind if they did? Could they have avoided all of this if they had just questioned their alpha, their captain?

Not all of it would have been unavoidable.

You would have still been hurt. You would have still been traumatized. There was no guarantee Graves would have held off, even if they came for you in the first place. Things might have been worse. Graves might have gotten impulsive as soon as he realized the outcome of his own situation.

Shepherd fucked him over too in the end.

Things happened the way they did and they can’t change that. That’s what Christine keeps telling them. The past is the past and you can only work to build the future.

It’s going to take a lot of work.

“How long has she been out there?” Christine asks, stepping up next to them.

“About four minutes.” Simon answers.

“She shouldn’t be out there like that.” Christine goes to move to the door, but John stops her.

“Let her have a moment.” He says, still staring out the window. “She needs it.”

Christine lets out a quiet huff but she doesn’t move, turning her gaze out the sliding glass door as well.

You continue to stand there, frozen like a statue. Time passes slowly, all of them captivated by the silent moment they’re witnessing. It’s almost hypnotic. The fading light, your figure standing there surrounded by grey skies and green earth like some sort of painting.

Pain and bliss.

That’s what he’d title it. He knows that’s what you must be feeling. Pain, visible and invisible from wounds that go far deeper than the flesh. Pain in its purest form as you stand there under heavy grey skies that echo the heaviness in your mind. The bliss echoes from John’s words, his reveal of your desire to see the ocean again, to stand on its shores and let its essence consume you.

It all makes sense now. No wonder you would cling to him the most, press your face into his neck and just breathe. His own briney scent was a gateway to what you desired in your landlocked position. How long had you been holding that desire in? Were you disappointed when you rolled up on their doorstep to find yourself still far away from the sea? You hid that desire from the knowledge that, as an omega, your wants and needs would always come last, in the knowledge that their jobs would come first and you would be at the mercy of that job.

His eyes burn with tears as he stares at you.

You begin to tremble more and more the longer you stand there, shifting on your feet. It breaks the haze they’ve all been frozen in, the five of them snapping back into reality. Christine is out the door before any of them can move, hurrying to your side. She wraps an arm around your back, careful not to touch your left arm as she steadies you. Kyle jumps into action automatically after her, hurrying to your new designated room to grab the wheelchair. With how much effort it took to walk out there, you won’t be walking back in.

He wheels it out, holding it still as Christine maneuvers you into it. As much as he doesn’t want to, he turns, slipping back in the door as Christine wheels you towards the house. The four of them watch as she passes, time pausing as they stare at you. You don’t look up at them, don't acknowledge them at all. Your gaze is turned down in your lap, head lowered as you hunch, shoulders rounded.

Pain and exhaustion are weighing on you from your exertion as Christine takes you back to your room. How heavy the world must seem from the combined weight of your physical and mental injuries. The state of your mind would be one thing, but being stuck in a temporary handicapped state due to your physical injuries must be driving you nearly insane. There’s no getting away, no isolation. You can’t even walk fully unaided yet.

There’s no freedom.

All of them share a look in the heavy silence, understanding without even needing to say a word.

The mug is burning his fingers but he can’t bring himself to care. His gaze is locked, mind focused elsewhere. He hasn’t moved in so long his joints are aching, but he can’t find it in himself to even shift his position.

“Drinking it black?” His fingers twitch as Kyle takes the seat next to him, his own mug of tea in his hands. It clunks as he sets it on the table before he lowers himself into the chair with a sigh. “That’s low even for you.”

Simon lets out a grunt, eyes still focused out the sliding glass door.

“She’s fine.” Kyle says, pulling out his phone. “The Doc won’t let anything happen to her.”

“Don’t like that she’s out there alone.” Simon says, finally releasing the mug, squeezing his burning fingers into his palm.

“Technically she’s not alone,” Kyle says, giving him a sideways glance. “We’ve been over this. We’re perfectly safe here.”

“For now.” Simon lifts his mug to his lips, ignoring the burn of the tea on his tongue. He’s long become numb to that sort of pain.

“No one knows we’re here except Kate and my sister. Neither of them would say anything, no matter what.” Kyle turns his gaze back to the sliding glass door, to your figure huddled in the chair outside. “She’s where she needs to be right now.”

Footsteps thud down the stairs, John letting out a groan as he reaches the bottom. He takes a moment to stretch before heading for the kettle in the kitchen.

“Rough night, sir?” Kyle asks, taking a sip of his tea.

“I’ve slept worse.” John grunts, grabbing a mug from the cupboard.

Both of them had tossed and turned last night. Simon had listened to the occasional creak of the bed frame as they turned. He knows that’s what it was. They’re not ready yet. None of them are. Things are too fragile, too frayed.

“Anyone thought about breakfast?” John asks.

“Still some eggs left, and some bread. We need to make a store run soon.” Kyle says.

“Today.” John says, pouring water into the mug. “A lot of things we need to pick up.” He turns to face Simon and Kyle, leaning against the cupboard. “Simon and I will go.”

Simon shifts in his seat, his hand tightening around his mug again. “That’s not a good idea.”

“What, you’re doubting our ability to watch the house?” Kyle says, turning to Simon.

Simon glances at him, his eyes hard. “No, There should just be an alpha here at all times.”

“Really? Because that sounds a lot like you don’t trust Johnny and I.” Kyle says, getting angry.

“Enough.” John says, setting his mug down on the table. “We keep fighting amongst ourselves, nothing is going to get better. Tensions are high, but none of this is about us. We have to keep our heads on straight for the sake of our pack, and our omega. Simon and I will go to town today. That’s final.”

Kyle and Simon both lower their eyes to their mugs of tea as John takes a seat at the table. He is right. Fighting amongst themselves will only make things worse for you. You’re already struggling, and the bonds fraying further will only cause more damage, more stress for you. Their bonds with you are delicate enough. They can’t risk the bonds between themselves getting any thinner. They have to be strong for you. They have to be strong for each other. They have to be strong for the pack. The whole pack.

It falls silent between the three of them as they sit there, sipping their tea. Johnny is the only one still in bed. He cried most of the night last night. He’s cried most of the night the last three nights. He’s probably shed more tears than you have.

Simon feels stuck in the middle, like he’s being torn in two separate directions. He got up in the night to free himself from the sounds of Johnny crying just to hear your own quiet sobs through your closed door. Each broken sob had his heart splitting in half, the ache in his chest getting worse and worse. He was sure he was having a heart attack that first night, his chest compressing and squeezing, his hands going numb from how tense his body was.

He wants to reach out and make it better, but he can’t bring himself to. Johnny will just shrug him off, and you won’t even look at him. Even John and Kyle are distant, gravitating further and further away. The gravitational field in the center of their pack continues to get bigger and bigger, forcing them further and further away from each other, and none of them know how to stop it. They’ve lost their point of equilibrium. They’re all spiraling further and further away. Eventually that gravitational field will dissipate and they’ll be left free-floating through space and time.

They all turn to look as the sliding glass door opens and you crutch your way in. Dr. Keller is right behind you, closing the back door before guiding you back to your room, the blanket you had been draped in folded neatly over her arm. You’re moving better, even just in two days since their arrival. Steadier on your feet, walking better with the crutch. You even look a little better, more alive than you were when you arrived here.

They all watch you walk to your room, but you don’t spare a glance their way. You haven’t looked at any of them in two days. You haven’t spoken a word to them, to anyone, in two days.

Kyle gets up to make breakfast as soon as you’ve passed, broken from the spell as Dr. Keller gets you settled in your room. You’re almost hypnotic now, all of their gazes drawn to you as soon as you enter the room. They’re all thinking the same thing every time you pass. Maybe this will be the time you finally look at them, when you finally glance their way. What he wouldn’t give to have you smile at him, give him that cheeky little grin after sassing him.

Little shit.

His hand tightens around his mug again as guilt floods him. You’ve sunken into an empty shell because of them. They sucked the life right out of you. They dragged you into this and failed to do what they were supposed to do. Anger bubbles in him as he thinks back to that moment. He should have fought back. He should have used his position to change John’s mind, or forced him to change it. He should have stepped up for you.

He’s not your alpha.

He almost wishes he was.

He stares down at the scabbed imprint of your teeth on his skin. He should pick up a bottle of ink in town, tattoo that mark on his skin forever as a reminder of both you and what he did to you.

“How is she?” John asks when Dr. Keller enters the kitchen. Simon’s shoulders square as she passes him, having been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t even noticed her enter.

Bloody hell, he’s as bad as you.

“As good as she can be.” She sighs, grabbing a can of soup out of the cupboard. You won’t get the eggs and toast Kyle is making. Your diet consists of soup and only soup.

“Hasn’t said anything still?” John asks, turning to look at her.

“Not a word.” Dr. Keller shakes her head. “I’d be worried, if it wasn’t expected.” She pulls out a pot, opening the can before dumping the contents in. Chicken noodle. The staple soup in your diet. “Strangulation can be a hard thing to recover from.”

“I know.” Simon winces, taking a sip of his tea.

The doctor gives him a sympathetic look. He doesn’t want it. “She had some mild damage done from it, which will take time to heal. And, everyone deals with trauma differently. Silence isn’t that unusual of a response.” She puts the pan on the hob, turning the heat on. “If I was worried, you would know.”

“Thank you for looking after her.” John says, nodding at the doctor. “You didn't have to stay.”

“I made a promise.” She says, stirring the soup. “She's still my patient, even if the initiative was bogus. I still have a duty to perform as her doctor. Kate wouldn't have chosen me from the start if I was the type to just up and leave as soon as I found out my job wasn't actually real. I care about her a lot, and I want to help her get through this.”

“We all owe a lot to you.” John says. “We wouldn't have made it this far without you.”

“No,” The corner of her mouth twitches. “You probably wouldn't have.”

Christine lets out a quiet sigh as she steps into your room. You're in the chair by the window, your usual spot when it's too damp and cold to sit outside.

It's dark in the room aside from the light coming through the window. It’s always dark in the room, except at night when you sleep with the bedside lamp on. She flips that lamp on, not wanting to blind you suddenly with the overhead light. You’ve been blinded by enough bright lights over the last week. Nearly a week and a half. It feels like so much time has passed, yet it still feels like yesterday when she was coming to in her office after being attacked and drugged. The terror she’d felt upon finding you missing still fills her stomach, and she finds herself getting up in the middle of the night to check and make sure you’re really there.

She’s not the only one that does it.

The paper bags in her arms crinkle as she carries them over to you, setting them on the other chair. Your gaze is far away, staring off at the grey, stormy sea in the distance. How fitting the weather is, both for you and the members of the pack. The tension between them is still palpable, all of them moving stiffly around each other. They’ve lost the natural fluidity of a pack comfortable in their bonds. They’re stuck, and they can’t, they won’t, heal until you do. They won’t allow themselves to until they know you’re willing to at least try.

“John and Simon went to town and did some shopping. They picked up some things for you.” She says softly, breaking the heavy silence in the room.

You don’t even turn to look at her.

“More warm clothes.” She continues, looking in one bag. “As well as some boots.” She pulls a box out of another bag. “A nightlight, so you don’t have to keep using the lamp.” She looks in the third bag, the heaviest one of the three. “Another stuffed animal.” She says, pulling out a stuffed bear. It’s a nice thought, but she’s not sure you’ll even want to touch it. “And some books.” She says, pulling the stack out of the bottom of the bag.

There’s three of them, ones not in the collection on the shelves in the living area. Some of your favorites. They’re trying, putting in efforts to try and make you as comfortable as possible in the only ways they can right now. She sets the books on the side table next to you, taking a long look at you as you sit there.

You haven’t picked up a book in the two days they’ve been at the cottage, though she’s not surprised. You’ve been in and out of it, sleeping off the pain medicine, or sitting in a haze, mind far away from the cabin. She wonders where you are, where your mind is going. Out on the water? Out on the beach? Or maybe somewhere back in your memories where it’s safe. Receding back somewhere when life was easier and safer.

Are you thinking of your mother? Are you imagining her here with you?

Her heart hurts for you, being torn away from her at such a pivotal moment in your life. If she had the ability to find her she would. If she could track down your mother and bring her here for you she would.

You begin to sniffle, almost as if you can somehow read her thoughts. The tears are falling, streaming down your cheeks again. She doesn't say anything, she doesn’t have to as she stands there beside you, gently stroking your hair. She’s seen many things in her time as an omega specialist. She’s had patients that have gone through things that would make even the most seasoned doctor’s stomach churn. She’s helped omegas that have been pushed to the brink of insanity, omegas pushed to the brink of death. Yet none of them have affected her the way you have. Maybe it’s because she’s never been quite so invested in an omega’s life before, never been quite so inserted into an omega’s reality.

If she was a better doctor, she might have refused to stay here, keeping distance between herself and your pack. She’s gotten too close, pushed past the barrier of professionalism. If she was a better doctor, she’d distance herself, stick to the decorum and expectation of doctor/patient relationships. She knows omega specialists can get too close. She’d been warned over and over about how easy it is to invest too much into the lives and well beings of omegas. There’s a boundary that must be kept, both for the professional and for the sake of the omega. She won’t be around you forever.

Eventually she’ll have to distance herself. She’ll have to go back to America, return to her practice. Now that the initiative is over, now that her job doesn’t even exist, she’s running on borrowed time. She’ll have to leave you at some point, close your case and move on.

When is the question there. When will it be the right time? When will she decide you’ve healed enough to be graduated from her care? When will she be confident enough to break the bond that has formed between the two of you.

Will she be able to? That’s the deeper question.

Those are thoughts for a different day, she decides, pushing them aside. Instead she pulls you into her side, resting your head against her hip as she continues to stroke your hair.

You look just about as happy to be at the table as they do. It's quiet in the room aside from the clanking of dishes in the kitchen and the occasional sizzle of food in a pan. Your gaze is in your lap, assuming your normal position of a drooping head and rounded shoulders.

Your back and neck have to hurt from being in that position for so long.

The only time you're not in those positions are when you're outside. Then your gaze is out at the sea in the distance. You sit there and stare, almost like a statue. You’d make for a good painting, seated still enough for long enough a skilled artist could make a masterpiece of it.

He's surprised Johnny hasn't even sketched you like that yet. Perhaps if you can ever come to be more comfortable around them, you'll allow him to paint you. You’ll be taking up residence out there in that chair as often as you can.

He’s not even sure rain or storm would deter you, if it wasn’t for Christine’s intervention.

Kyle sets a plate of chicken on the table as Christine brings over your soup, setting it down in front of you. Always a bowl of steaming hot soup. How you’re existing off of mostly liquids is beyond him. Maybe that’s why you look so fragile and frail.

“There you go,” Christine says as she sets a spoon down beside the bowl. Chicken and rice, a changeup from your normal chicken noodle. “I know you don’t want to, but you need to. You’re not going to feel better without food in your system.”

You let out a quiet noise, just barely audible over the shuffling of bodies as they sit at the table. Simon is to your left, Kyle next to him, Christine and Johnny on the other side. He’s on the opposite end of the table, staring right at you. No wonder you don’t want to move from your hunched position.

They keep their eyes off of you as they begin serving themselves. The food they’ve managed to make is decent with the help of their combined cooking skills. They’d had a long discussion about the intricacies of British food versus American food the first morning after their arrival. Christine advocated for more American-based dishes, with Johnny taking her side purely out of spite for the three Englishmen.

John has caught Christine sneaking seasoning into the food every so often. He hasn’t said a word.

“Come on, eat up.” Christine says, gently nudging your hand where it rests over the spoon.

Your face screws up in a grimace as you stare down at the steaming soup. It’s a breath before your fingers wrap around the spoon, lifting it to the bowl. Every movement feels practiced and calculated as he watches you sink the spoon into the bowl, just barely sinking below the surface to get just broth. He watches as you lift the spoon, holding it halfway to your mouth. There’s a subtle shake to your hand, not much but noticeable to him. You stare down at the spoon for a long moment before lifting it the rest of the way, quickly putting it in your mouth before your hand starts shaking too much.

You grimace as you swallow, a quiet grunt leaving your lips. He can’t bring himself to look away as you sit there, taking in a couple deep breaths. He can’t bring himself to eat as you stare back down at the bowl, your fingers trembling around the spoon.

Fuck.

You sniffle as you sink the spoon into the bowl once more, the spoon shaking more now as you bring the second spoonful to your mouth. It’s like watching some kind of sick, twisted children’s windup toy as you feed yourself, following the pattern of spoon in soup, soup to mouth, pained grimace, quiet sob. It gets worse and worse with every bite, John barely able to stomach his own food as he watches you with every bite.

You stare down at a chunk of chicken on your spoon, a fearful look on your face. Your hand is shaking enough that soup is dripping off the bottom back into the bowl. Christine had cut the chunks up smaller, yet you stare down at it like it might jump off the spoon and bite you.

Tears start rolling down your cheeks as you bring the spoon up to your lips, forcing it into your mouth. You chew and chew and chew, delaying the inevitable. The face you make as you swallow nearly breaks him. He lowers his gaze to his own plate, barely touched despite the fact he feels like they’ve been eating for a lifetime.

“Take a break.” Christine says quietly, lowering your hand with the spoon back onto the table.

None of them can bear to look at you. Johnny and Kyle are busy staring at their plates as they eat while Simon glares holes into his water glass. He’s watching you just as closely, he’s just not brave enough to stare at you so openly.

The tears continue to fall as you start feeding yourself again, Christine watching you as your hand begins to shake more and more, the pain starting to get to you. John wants to reach out, to take the spoon and feed you himself, but he can’t. It’s destroying him inside, seeing you struggle so openly. Christine won’t intervene, she won’t do anything as she sits there. Rationally he knows why. You need to get used to feeding yourself again, you need to work past the pain and exhaustion to keep yourself going.

His alpha is screaming.

Your hand is nearly vibrating as you hold another spoonful up, this one full of rice and chicken. You let out a quiet sob as you stare at it. That’s going to hurt. He can nearly sense your pain, the agony you’re feeling. Your scent is like a cloud fogging up the air, sour with fear and pain. It’s sinking right into his brain, his alpha clawing at him to do something. You’re in such open distress in front of him but he can’t move. He’s frozen, staring at you in shock, unable to look away.

It’s Simon’s quick reflexes that save you, his hand darting out to flip the spoon onto the table before you drop it on yourself. It lands with a clang, startling all of them out of their ruminations as it hits the bowl of peas, splattering rice and chicken and broth across the tablecloth. Christine is on her feet almost immediately, checking you over for burns from any of it that might have landed on you.

“You're okay.” Christine says, wiping your face with a napkin as you sob loudly, openly crying now. “It was a good try. Come on.”

She helps you to your feet, grabbing your crutch before leading you back to your room.

All four of them sit there in silence, still as statues as they process what they had just witnessed.

“Fuck,” Kyle breaths, his eyes glued to the half-eaten chicken on his plate.

Johnny starts to sniffle himself, his gaze locked on his own plate. Simon's eyes are on the spoon he'd flipped where it lays on the table.

He had no idea just how bad things really were. He knew they were bad.

He just didn't think they were this bad.

You’re sitting outside in that chair again. It’s a lovely morning, cold but the sun is rising up over the hills, casting a pink and orange glow across the sky. You look almost ethereal out there, even if he can only see the back of your head. Your eyes are cast out at the sea in the distance, where your gaze always seems to lie.

His fingers itch in a desire to draw you, the art supplies Simon had picked up for him sitting unopened upstairs. It’s the first time he’s felt the desire to draw in weeks. Not since your heat when he’d sat there by your side, drawing to keep the thoughts away. The pictures are probably still up on his wall, the pieces he’d done to keep his own distress away. Had you laid there and stared at them after they left you? He can picture you laying there numbly, eyes glazed as you stare at them, picturing yourself far away.

You don’t need his drawings now to imagine yourself far away.

You’re still as a statue as you sit there, the thick blanket he’d picked up in Texas tucked around you. It warms his heart, even if he knows it was Christine who wrapped you up in it. The mug of tea beside you is still steaming in the cool air, untouched as it will remain until Christine eventually brings you back inside where you’ll recede to your room to sit in front of the large bay window to stare out at the sea.

He wants to take you.

He wants to load you up in the car and take you the short drive down the road to the beach. He wants to let you stand there in the sand, see the waves as they crash onto the shore. Hell, he’d let you walk into the water, let it soak your shoes and pants. Whatever you need to do, he’d let you do it.

John would have his hide if he left with you like that.

Simon would eat him alive.

He won’t do that, though, mostly because he knows you wouldn’t be strong enough to make it down to the beach, nor stand there for a long period of time. Carrying you would be out of the question. You’d never let him that close.

Instead he takes a gamble, getting as close as he dares as he slides open the door, stepping out into the cool morning. You don’t move, don’t even look up as he takes a seat in the chair next to you, the one Christine occupies when she’s out with you. He’d volunteered to watch you through the door to allow her some time to herself, something she hasn’t been getting much of. She’s been caring for you nearly 24/7, only getting breaks here and there while you sleep or nap, or on the rare occasion she trusts one of them to watch you. She never complains, but he knows she’s tired. Anyone would be after everything they’ve been through, after everything she’s had to see and experience over the last week and a half.

It’s the least they can do, even if you won’t allow them to do more. They all wish they could. They wish they could ease some of your suffering, take some of the strain off of Christine’s shoulders. Kyle even went so far as to invite his sister to visit over for the weekend in hopes she might be able to lighten the load, and to see if you’ll allow her closer than you’re allowing them to get.

He moves cautiously like he’s approaching a wild animal, not wanting to startle you and cause you more pain than you have been in. He can be a bull in a china shop, or he can be silent and deadly. He chooses something in the middle, making his footsteps just loud enough to be heard across the wooden planks of the porch, but he moves slowly enough he won’t startle you as he appears in your peripheral.

Your gaze never leaves the horizon, focused and far away even as he takes a seat next to you. His mug of coffee is warm in his hands, fighting off the chill outside. It’s a natural response to the sudden temperature change after being inside in the warm house. He almost wishes he had his own blanket, but then again, he’s not sure he’ll be outside very long.

He’s prepared for yelling, screaming, getting hit with your crutch as you tell him off, chasing him back inside. He’d almost prefer it over the eerie silence. He has to glance at you just to make sure you’re breathing, make sure the blanket is rising and falling over your chest. He follows your gaze out to the sea, sitting there silently as he gazes out at the dark blue water. Silence is hard for him. He can feel it throbbing in his ears, the ringing that fills his head when it’s quiet. He likes noise. He needs noise.

He just wants to hear you speak again.

He needs to hear you speak again.

He wants to talk to you, he wants to say something, he wants to drop to his knees and beg forgiveness. He wants to feel your touch again, even if it’s just a brush of fingers across his hand. He wants to get something out of you, some kind of reaction. You’re an empty shell, a ghost of what you were.

Tears fill his eyes as he stares out at the blue water. The silence is deafening as he sits there with you, still and quiet.

He might as well be sitting alone.

It’s the dead of night. The stars are out, or they would be if the clouds weren’t blocking them. It makes the world seem so much darker without their light. The fire is out, the curtains drawn closed. The only light is from the porch and the lights on the patio out back. The house is quiet, not even the hum of appliances filling the silence.

Kyle’s breaths are quiet and even, finally asleep after laying awake for far too long. Their backs are turned towards each other, yet the double bed forces them close enough they can feel the warmth radiating from the other. It’s the only position they can sleep in, even if they’ve woken up cuddling a few times in the night. It’s almost as if their brains are subconsciously trying to force the bonds back, to force the healing. It’s as if their instincts are laughing at them for trying to deny what they want deep down.

John lays there in the silence, his mind racing. He can’t sleep again for the fifth night in a row. He hasn’t been able to sleep since they left weeks ago on their mission to track down the missiles. No, it’s been longer than that. Not since you revealed the cameras to them. How long ago that seems now. How inconsequential it feels. If he knew back then what was going to happen, he would have changed a lot of things.

You can’t undo what was done. You can only change what happens going forward.

Things happened the way they happened. Now he has to make up for it. Now he has to prove himself not just as a capable alpha, but as a trustworthy human being. Your omega is screaming. He knows it. He had sensed it at dinner with your quiet sobs, the pain flooding your scent. He can still smell it, the sourness permeating his nostrils and sinking right into his brain. His alpha is still clawing at him angrily for just sitting there, for just letting it happen.

Simon intervened. Simon saved you once again.

He had barely comprehended the quick movement of Simon’s hand as he knocked the spoon out of your grip. He’d gotten soup on his hand, the droplets visible, yet he hadn’t moved as he sat there, letting it burn his skin. Better his than yours. He could almost hear Simon’s thoughts at that moment.

What a good alpha Simon is.

What a failure of an alpha John is.

Your omega must be screaming in your mind, clawing at her cage. It’s almost like he can hear it rattling in his ears, reminding him of the pain he’s caused you. The pain brought on by his failures.

Something is rattling in his ears, piercing through the silence.

It is a scream.

It’s your scream.

To be notified about new chapters, please follow HERE and turn on notifications

#call of duty #call of duty fic #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse

2K notes · View notes

a-kind-of-merry-war · 30 days

Text

After emerging from its egg, the humble squire, but one of a clutch of as many as fifty, gorges itself on porridge oats before finding itself a safe space beneath a shield or within the buttresses of a castle where it can undergo its extraordinary transformation into a knight.

Once safe, the squire wraps itself in spun chainmail which develops into a sturdy, protective cuirass to guard it from natural predators such as clergymen, lords, and even fully mature knights.

After a sennight, the squire begins to emerge from the cuirass as a juvenile knight. This time and energy intensive process, aided by the squires specially developed dagger, can take a full day.

Once freed from the cuirass, it takes a further three days for the juvenile knight's plate armour to harden. This armour is formed of interlocking plates, which depending on the genus of the knight may be made from iron, steel, or in some cases even bronze or copper.

During this process, some sub-species of knights also develop their heraldic colours. These are typically displayed through shielding or upon the knight's cape, which will usually fully unfurl in the few hours after they emerge from the cuirass. These colours are often used to attract a mate, indicate allegiance, or as showy threat displays.

Once a knight has reached sexual maturity, it will develop a lance; a hard, long protuberance used to attack and ward off competitors. Territory challenges are regular and deadly, and mature knights can often be observed jousting in the field, during which they rush at each other with their lances. Often, this results in the shattering of a lance, which will lead to the knight's death.

During breeding season, knights will construct an intricate bower to attract a mate. The choosing of a mate is demonstrated through the giving and receiving of a favour, entering the two knights in a season-long bond. Favour-stealing is extremely common, especially amongst younger knights.

Despite their territorial nature, wild knights are very social, and thrive best in areas where they are able to feast and play fight with other knights. Solitary knights can become depressed and reclusive, and have been known to create vast, maze-like bowers, steal mates, and invade pack knight's feast days. Solitary knights are often easy to identify thanks to the vibrant green patina of their armour.

#i dont know why i did this #knights #medieval #history #knightposting

195 notes · View notes

zweiginator · 2 months

Note

pls hear me out on this🙌

so like you live in a small home town, and when the zweigs move there to settle down, they join the local church to get to know people better, but patrick is completely against it until he sees reader — who is so cute and innocent and would never do anything to upset God because she’d feel so guilty and immediately go to confess her sins — and he just wants to corrupt her completely so the only person she can worship is him🤭

yes. and mr. zweig was so well-respected and established in the city they lived in before they decided to move. they want a farmhouse and to live by the countryside. a simpler life. patrick loves the bustle of the city and being surrounded by people. he despises the idea of moving and everyone knows it. the family just wants to ground themselves a little better in your town; they aren't highly religious people, but given the role of the church, it would be stupid to stay neutral.

so the zweigs join. and patrick figures they're pulling his leg, or it's something they'll back out of once 8 am on sunday rolls around. but there his father is, knocking on his bedroom door at 7:30, telling patrick to get his slacks on and he just can't fucking believe this.

they're too small for him; he's grown a few inches since he last wore them for his high school graduation three years ago. he really doesn't want to go but arguing with his father would be a death wish and two hours wouldn't kill him. he packs a joint and shoves it in his front pocket, slips a lighter in the other.

when they get to the church, a bonafide chapel with a pointed white roof and rows of scratched wooden pews, windows with rainbows of stained glass--patrick realizes this is the real fucking deal. it gives him the creeps, but he sits down and then he sees you across the aisle, smoothing your pristine ivory dress. you're sitting so straight and you're oh so attentive to the pastor. your hands are already neatly folded on your lap, as if you can't wait to pray and fuck--why does patrick always want what he can't have? what he shouldn't have?

you look over at him, feeling the intensity of his stare, barely visible in your peripheral vision. patrick's green eyes meld into yours and even how he looks at you is demanding. all-encompassing and powerful. it makes you blush and you've never seen him before. but you're not involved with boys. your father wouldn't allow it. and even though you've had crushes, temptations and desires, you don't give into them. it's not worth your father finding out. even if he didn't find out through word of mouth in your tiny little town, he would inevitably hear it from you, yourself as you confessed to him, knelt in that wretched little booth as you begged the Father--and your father--for forgiveness.

so you didn't dare break the rules. you would sit patiently and wait for your knight in shining armor like your father always says will happen. you would move slowly until he asked you to marry him and you would only consummate the marriage after everything was perfectly official. that's how it works.

but patrick's eyes don't stop watching you for the entirety of the service. you feel like a tiny ant, stuck under a microscope in the burning daylight because you swear his gaze is making your skin burn and you just want to tell him to stop. what does he want? hasn't he heard of being respectful? a gentleman?

you can also hear his foot tapping. his pressed shirt crinkling as he raises his wrist twice every minute to check the time as if that will make it go faster.

you glare at him. it's rude, but you're annoyed and this is church. who doesn't listen to the word of the lord?

patrick isn't affected. he winks at you and then you see he's flipping a red lighter in his right hand and you look at him quizzically. you shake your head at him and revert your attention back to your father, leaning forward slightly.

patrick starts flicking his thumb across the starter of the lighter. it's loud and obnoxious and distracting. your jaw tenses but you don't look at him. you won't.

two minutes later, you look over and he isn't there anymore. there's an empty space between who you assume are his parents. thank goodness, you think.

no more distractions.

and then you hear rustling by the window you're closest to. and through the kaleidoscope of the red and blue stained glass that separates you, you can tell it's patrick. and he's smoking.

you excuse yourself and pretend you have to go to the bathroom. you'll ask for forgiveness later.

you go outside and turn the corner. sure enough, you were right.

you tap him on the shoulder.

"mm." his eyebrows raise as he takes a puff of whatever it is he's smoking. it smells awful. "hey. do you want some?" he extends his arm and you shoo it away.

"no, no! what is that? you can't be smoking here." you cross your arms. patrick is much taller than you. he smiles down at you and although it could be genuine, it feels condescending regardless.

"what do you mean what is that? are you serious?" patrick coughs.

you shrug, egging him on to just tell you.

"it's weed. jesus, you're sheltered."

your eyes widen and patrick kind of feels weird because it turns him on and he realizes you can't believe he just used the lord's name in vain. jesus christ.

"hey, don't say that." you watch his, as he takes another puff. sharp inhale, deep exhale. his chest is broad like his shoulders. he has a scattering of freckles and a smile that is almost endearing. he's obviously a year or so older than you, but his smile has the remnants of a boyish charm. mischievous.

"or what? i'll go to hell?" patrick leans forward and it's too close.

"can you at least aim away? i don't wanna smell like that stuff."

you're so proper. your brows are furrowed but you don't commit to your anger. patrick assumes you feel bad for being upset. like you're going to get in trouble with the man upstairs. so it's a soft anger. you'll do your due diligence in keeping things holy, but you won't yell and scream.

"then why did you come here?"

"because you were distracting me."

patrick laughs. "so i was distracting you and you wanted to distract yourself more by coming out here to let me know i was distracting you?"

"if that's how you wanna see it, then sure."

patrick swears you roll your eyes at him. it's cute, how sweet you are. he can smell the repression emanating from your pores.

"you probably already smell like it, by the way." patrick winks.

it's thursday, and your father knocks on your bedroom door.

"we're having guests over for dinner tonight. wear something nice." he smiles at you and you return one. you don't think much of it, until it's 7 and you're walking down the stairs and there he is. you don't even know his name.

he hands it to you as he grabs your hand to shake it.

"i'm patrick zweig." he says, beaming. you introduce yourself and you can't help but be a little cold. your mom looks at you, shaking her head. a warning.

the zweigs are very respectable, you realize. patrick's parents are successful and kind and charismatic. patrick's little sister is going to brown in the fall, and patrick himself is a nationally ranked tennis player. you congratulate him.

your father brings up how you've always wanted to learn how to play tennis and you shake your head.

"oh, i don't think i have enough time." you push your potatoes around with your fork.

"honey, it's summer. there's plenty of time." your mother says.

you feign a smile at patrick, who pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

and then you feel his foot against your shin. the rubbery sole of his leather dress shoe as it pushes up your leg, moving your skirt. you kick him.

you excuse yourself. there's something in your throat you say.

when you come back, dessert is on the table. patrick eats the strawberry shortcake sinfully. he's making a show of licking his fork and complimenting your mother on her baking skills. you can tell she's eating it up.

there's whipped cream on his lip.

"there's whipped cream on your lip." you point.

he pretends not to be able. he acts stupid, until you lean over and wipe it off for him and he thanks you profusely, like a perfect gentleman.

your father gave patrick your phone number. for tennis lessons. he even said he would pay patrick fifty dollars an hour.

how does a lesson at 4 sound?

it's patrick btw

you groan. you really don't care about tennis at all.

i can't. plus, i'm not interested in tennis. sorry

but somehow, your father finds out you declined and now it's 4 pm and patrick is picking you up. he smokes a joint on the car ride to the courts.

"stop! you're going to get in trouble and you're going to get me in trouble!"

patrick blows smoke out the window.

"relax, why would you get in trouble? you're not driving."

he's so nonchalant. doesn't care about consequences or doing the right thing or being holy--he only cares about himself. it's so unattractive.

patrick thinks the opposite of you. loves how you give him a hard time. how you're a piece of work, a perfect angel, daddy's little girl. here you are, in his passenger seat in a little white skirt and a tight tank top. patrick tells himself that in a way, it's all for him. you excite him.

and you're really bad at tennis. he can tell it frustrates you, and patrick is deliberately making it hard. serving the ball harder than he should, smacking it out of bounds.

"come on, you got this! just gotta get to the ball faster!" patrick yells.

you groan and throw his racket down. "can you play fair? you're supposed to be teaching me!"

"god wouldn't like that you're taking the easy way out."

patrick is mocking you and you hate how he always brings god up like that. like it's a joke. you walk over to him.

"take me home." you demand.

"it's only been thirty minutes." he peers down at you, like you're his subject.

"i don't care take me home."

patrick moves closer to you. "can you get my racket?"

you jump over the net and bend over to pick it up and when you turn around patrick is ogling you. you smack his stomach with the racket.

"what the hell!" he holds his stomach but he's laughing at you and he makes you feel so small and stupid and you march to the car. he won't unlock it.

he just stands in front of you and watches you gnaw on your lip, listens to the tap, tap, tap of your sneakers on the pavement. he opens his mouth to sigh and you don't know what you're doing or why you're doing it. something just comes over you; a wave of sinful lust, or something akin to hatred--it all boils over and you pull him by the collar. kiss him hard. patrick pushes you against the side of his car. the black metal is hot against your back but you don't care. your tongue shyly pushes into patrick's mouth and he smirks against you as his lips part and he sucks you in like a serpent, licking into your mouth and seducing you. like some sort of devil. his hands roam and pry and he touches your waist and the curve of your ass, barely covered by the skirt that had ridden up during your short practice. you try to resist the urge to kiss him again but nothing can stop you and patrick just pulls you closer and closer and he tastes like weed which is even worse. you're guilty before it's even over. would it really be so bad not to confess?

patrick picks you up and opens the backseat. he pushes you inside and closes the door and you're still latched onto him. your innocent eyes beg him for more. he ruts his clothed cock against your pussy, your skirt flipped up to reveal the tiny shorts underneath. his lips ghost over yours and he resists your desperate pulls on his collar to get him to connect them to yours.

instead his hand glides down your body. slides between your tits and over your naval until he reaches your cunt. you're wet.

"what's this?" patrick asks you.

your breath is shaky.

"you're a bad, dirty girl. do you know that?" patrick grabs your jaw. you have to hold back a moan.

"no, i'm not." you shake your head.

"good girls listen to god." patrick lets the saliva build up in his mouth. it's easy when you look like that beneath him. when your voice trembles. "good girls don't listen to boys like me. and they certainly don't like this."

he lets a glob of spit drop from his mouth and you watch as it falls into your own.

your brain wants to hate it. you want to tell him he's disgusting and push him off of you. but you don't. you moan. and it's guttural and you pull his collar so hard you tear the seam as you kiss him again.

#ask #challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #challengers smut #corruption kink lets go

179 notes · View notes

satinroses · 4 months

Text

Off the beaten path

Yan! Albedo x reader x Yan! Susbedo

4874 Words

GN! reader

Summary: Albedo has been frantic about keeping you far away from Dragonspine for reasons unknown but when Sucrose asks you to go to Dragonspine to gather some ingredients for her you can’t help but go there however when you arrive Albedo doesn’t seem at all upset over your sudden arrival in Dragonspine… rather he seems uncharacteristically enthusiastic.

guys this is my first fic so erm I'm sorry if it’s really bad :[

Warnings: typical yandere behaviours, non-con kissing, both Albedos being little creeps, Y/N needs a break and has official permission to execute them both, Y/N is a smidge naïve, Manipulation, gaslighting

The brisk air of Dragonspine doesn’t sit gently in your lungs, instead its crispness demands your attention. Each breath is invigorating. You were never one to focus on meditation or breathing techniques, seeing little interest in self-reflection or mindfulness however on mornings like this one on Dragonspine with the bright morning sun rising to full mast you couldn't help but feel rather contemplative.

Admittedly you were not as alchemically inclined as your lover, the chief alchemist of the Knights of Favonius however when sucrose entered Albedo’s office late at night in a state of utter disarray as the samples of flora she had procured from Dragonspine had seemingly vanished from under her very nose you couldn’t help but take pity on the poor girl in her panic. Tomorrow morning she would be too busy refining the remaining electro hypostasis’ lightning prisms from her last journey outside the walls of Mondstadt for yet another experiment… She simply wouldn't be able to make the trek to Dragonspine and back while also completing all of her tasks but despite her pleading the knights were far too busy to waste their time collecting mere greenery.

You shifted on your feet, you always thought she held herself to a far harsher standard than she deserved, constantly focusing on her shortcomings as Albedo’s apprentice rather than acknowledging what an accomplished and gifted alchemist she was in her own right. You walked towards the distraught green-haired alchemist, firmly grasping her on each shoulder. At your steady grasp sucrose looked up at the reassuring smile you gave her “Sucrose! Don’t fret so much, you’ve already done more than enough. I’ve got it handled, I’ll head to Dragonspine first thing tomorrow morning and I'll have the samples for you before lunchtime.” For the first time since Sucrose entered the room you could feel your lover's eyes rising from the notebook where he had been scrawling away his recent findings for the past few hours, his turquoise eyes piercing into your body as though if he stared hard enough he’d be able pierce your subconsciousness and reprogram you, as though if he impressed his vision into you long enough you would eventually be remade in his vision, as though staring could somehow convince you to rescind your offer.

Although Albedo was typically indifferent about how you spent your time and who you associated with, you couldn't help but notice that recently he had been very clearly trying to shepherd you away from the snowy peak of Dragonspine. Any ideas of visiting him while he was working was quickly shot down with a “It’s not worth the trek, most of my work in Dragonspine will be done soon enough, there is no point in journeying all that way”. Any mentions of stopping by to drop off some warm food for himself, Sucrose and Timaeus was quickly halted with a “we pack more than enough food and there are plenty of braziers around the camp, please don't worry yourself” much to the dismay of Timaeus. It felt as though every attempt to come see him working had been instantly stopped by some rebuttal he had regarding it as a waste of time and energy.

It would be a lie to say your heart didn’t ache with every blatant refusal to your attempts to visit him on the mountain. He let Kaeya, Klee and Sucrose visit him freely but he seemed particularly insistent that you do not come to Dragonspine, that you don't even entertain the idea. In spite of Albedo's recent reluctance for you to venture to the frozen mountain, you refused to be deterred. This particular voyage was not a selfish endeavour for your own entertainment… no! Sucrose needed your help and you refused to let her down. It would be a breeze to wander about the mountain picking flowers for a little while before meandering back to Mondstadt to what would likely be a hero’s welcome from the young woman, besides with your pyro vision strapped to your waist you sincerely doubted any hillichurls would be causing you issues and you knew well enough to steer clear of any Fatui outposts placed along the winding frozen pathways.

The mint-haired woman let out a deep sigh of relief, her breathing steadying as she looked at you hopefully “really?! You will? Thank you so much Y/N I- I don't know how to repay you I-'' you laughed warmly at the girl’s gratitude “think nothing of it! It’ll be a piece of cake, besides I haven't left Monstadt’s walls in weeks, going out and exploring will do me some good.” It seemed as though this past month almost every commission took place within the walls of Mondstadt, if you had to clean that blasted statue of Barbatos or tell that creep Albert to knock it off one more time you were going to go crazy, on the rare occasion you were given a commission that left the walls of Mondstadt it was something mundane like a food delivery to Springvale and back. You hadn’t had a single combat commission in weeks. you had filed several complaints to Katherine about the distribution of commissions and despite her promises to reach out to her higher ups regarding potential flaws in the commission distribution system, she still hadn't gotten back to you.

With Sucrose’s issue resolved and her mind soothed you gently guide her to the door of Albedo’s office “It’s getting late and I’m sure you’ll have a busy day tomorrow” you say to her, clasping the bronze door handle and holding the door open “I’ll see you tomorrow, verdure in tow!” you exclaimed as you watched the girl amble over to the exit of the Knight’s headquarters, waving you a polite goodbye.

You softly shut the thick oak door to Albedo’s office not wanting to disturb the diligent genius, taking his silence during your conversation with sucrose as a sign of him returning to his work. Ever the academic, Albedo rarely allowed himself to be distracted from a task once he had dedicated himself to it, however upon turning around you were greeted by Albedo still staring at you intently, his eyes having never once left your frame. His pupils were dilated, the darkness engulfing his iris leaving only a sliver of blue as an outermost ring. He didn’t blink as though afraid you would slip from his grasp the moment he shut his eyes. His body was still, his entire being focused on watching you as though he was waiting for something to happen. He hadn’t written a word since your mention of Dragonspine, his studies completely paused as his pen stayed pressed on his crisp white notepad, a thick ink blot seeping into the page and staining it but in spite of this, the observant Albedo didn’t make any effort to move the pen.

Seeing Albedo so on edge subsequently had you unsettled. You gently walk across the plush red carpet approaching Albedo, taking the pen out of his hand and setting it down on his desk before he could further sully his work. Only upon your contact with him did he seemingly snap out of the daze he was in, blinking softly. His eyes still zeroed in on you but they seemed softer, less frantic. Upon setting the pen down you began to wrap your coat around your shoulders “you know what i said to sucrose is right, i should be heading home soon before i have to bump into the crowd of tavern crawlers on their way from The Cat’s Tail to The Angel’s Share” you joke gently attempting to lighten the mood, Albedo barely manages a smile at your jest. instead getting up and shoving his arms haphazardly into the sleeves of the jacket he stripped off hours ago “let me walk you home. It’s getting far too dark for you to be wandering about Mondstadt alone. I wouldn't be able to rest well unless I knew you made it back safely.” You smile bashfully at the consideration he's shown for you.

“Oh Albedo, i don't want to be a bother I'm sure you have plenty of things to-”

“I insist.”

“Well if you insist” you smile softly, your heart fluttering at his show of chivalry

You nodded and fiddled with the buttons of your coat, your fingers trembling as Albedo stood by the door waiting for you to be ready to leave. Upon noticing your battle with your buttons Albedo quickly faced you as he placed your hands by your side to instead button your coat up himself. The moment you were suitably clothed to brace the cool Mondstadt evenings Albedo’s arm snaked around your waist as he ushered you out of the Knight’s headquarters. Your cheeks warmed at his gesture as the reserved alchemist’s hand enclosed your waist tightly, pulling you closer into him as though he was trying to mould you together, unable to be separated by anyone or anything. You attempted to initiate some small talk as you wandered through Mondstadt, however Albedo hardly noticed. He muttered vague replies or made noises of affirmation as you discussed your day and how cold it had been recently and how excited you were for the next Windblume festival. Instead Albedo’s eyes were fixed intently on the shadows the dim streetlamps of Mondstadt cast as though a ghost was about to peer out from one of the alleys. As you reached your home you opened the door yet Albedo's hand didn't move from your waist. You stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to release you from his grasp but he didn’t move his hand until several awkward seconds had passed before he hesitantly allowed you to walk through your front door. “Goodnight Albedo” you whisper gently before pressing a gentle peck to his cheek. You disappear behind your door trying to forget about Albedo’s peculiar behaviour tonight, fretting about what could have possibly made him so troubled. In spite of your concern about Albedo’s recent behaviours you slipped into an uneasy sleep, unaware of how he remained steadfastly on your doorstep like a statue keeping watch until the sun began to peak over the rolling hills of Mondstadt and he reluctantly retired to his own abode.

●・○・●・○・●・

The crunch of the fresh layer of snow beneath your shoes invigorated you as you continued your trek along the mountainside. Your head felt light as you inhaled the overwhelming saccharine scent of the half dozen sweet flowers you had found, your hand clutching the stems of the flowers gently, determined to bring Sucrose back the best possible samples. Alas you couldn’t help but feel as though your luck had all but run out when you began to search for mint. Perhaps some traveller had plucked the last of it in this area or maybe you were just unlucky. You bent over in the snow, your head almost grazing the ground as you sifted your hands through the snow hoping your fingers might latch onto even a mint sapling, that perhaps the constant winter snowfall had simply covered up all the fresh mint. After a few minutes of sifting through the mountainside snow you began to instinctively reach for your weapon as a distinctly humanoid presence loomed over you… there shouldn't be Fatui this far from the main path but perhaps these were scouts for a larger group. You held your breath not wanting the person to realise you were aware of their presence until you were ready or you were forced to act, likely the latter. As several minutes passed and you still pretended to be focused on the frost dusted ground beneath you rather than the presence looming over your form you were confused as to why they hadn’t approached yet… perhaps it was just some freezing adventurer too sheepish to ask for help so they were simply waiting to be noticed… or perhaps it was an inquisitive little snow fox or boar who would scurry away the moment you acknowledged it yes, that sounded much better. You would turn around and be greeted by some shy little forest animal who would flee the moment you acknowledged it. Yes. That was it. Nothing bad is behind you. You began to repeat in your head as you rested your numb hands on the hilt of your weapon before taking a deep breath and turning around.

Of all the potential scenarios you imagined being greeted by, seeing Albedo staring at you in utter shock was not one of them. You exhaled softly before you began to chuckle in relief, pressing your hand over your thumping heart as you chastised your over-active imagination. You smile gently “‘Bedo I didn't think I’d bump into you, what are you doing on this part of the mountain?” You awaited a response yet you weren’t greeted by one, you looked back up at Albedo but instead of him offering you a small smile or him trying to usher you off the mountain he simply stood there staring at you as though it was the first time he had truly seen you. He drank in deep breaths, his mouth slightly agape as his eyes danced across you, blinking softly as though trying to dispel some sort of illusion “Albedo? Everything okay?” you ask gently, your mind already on slight alert after his peculiar behaviour last night. Suddenly he let out a deep gasp as he stuttered out “what are you doing here? I thought… i thought you weren’t fond of Dragonstone…” you look up at Albedo in utter confusion “Not fond…? Albedo what are you talking about, you’re the one who practically forces me off the mountain” you say, half joking, half serious.

Albedo’s gaze becomes cold as he spits out “of course I do” with a venom unfamiliar to his voice, his eyes glaring into the ground with such profound hatred it startles you. He quickly remembers your presence and haphazardly attempts to regain his composure with a deep breath and a few blinks before he says in an even tone “then what are you doing here then Y/N? Shouldn’t you be in Mondstadt?” Your heart beat steadily accelerates as you feel your skin crawling as Albedo stares at you, his gaze seeping into your skin as he drinks in every little detail, his eyes fixating on every mole and birthmark and freckle, desperately imprinting them into his mind like this is the last time he might ever see you “we discussed this last night remember? I’m looking for some flowers for Sucrose’s experiment” you state, your voice tight as my body tense like a coiled spring ready to launch itself out of the grasping hands of the alchemist.

Albedo puts his hand on his chin as he begins to mutter “Sucrose… Sucrose… Sucrose… Sucrose!” he had sounded utterly befuddled by the mention of her until the final mutter of Sucrose seemed to ignite some spark of familiarity, like Sucrose was more of a passing acquaintance rather than his most promising protégé.

“Yes of course Sucrose needed some flowers like we discussed last night”

“Yes that would appear to be the case” You giggled breathlessly, trying to ignore the pit of bile bubbling in your stomach “I just want to find some mint and then I'll begin the trudge back to Mondstadt”

“Oh… some mint? I think I know where you might be able to find some”

“O-Oh are you sure I don't want to be a bother and I don't want to get in the way of anything or be a nuisance or knock something important over in your lab” You stuttered out sheepishly, trying to find any way to get back to Mondstadt.

“Nonsense I’ve set up a temporary second camp just a little ways up the mountain, follow me. I’m sure we’ll find plenty of flora up there”

“Okay yes you’re right” You beam trying to ignore how tight the grin feels, like your skin is cracking underneath it. He holds out his soft cool palm waiting for you to grab it. You gently settle your hand in his unable to hear how his breath hitches softly as your numb fingers are clutched by his, a barely noticeable flush spreading across his complexion. Each step in the direction of this second camp makes your foot feel heavier until eventually you’re practically shuffling through the snow. As you wind through the passageways of the mountain you can’t help but feel like you’re going far too high but each time you ask Albedo about the new camp’s location you’re greeted by the same excuse “just a little ways further.”

“‘Bedo…” you stutter out “I should turn back, I need to get these flowers back to Sucrose soon. I promised she’d have them by lunchtime and the sun is getting rather high”

He stopped in his tracks, the hand that had been grasping onto yours tightens with an unnatural grip “but we’re almost there” he smiles out, the smile far too large and toothy to look natural on him, mimicking a lion baring its teeth far more than a reassuring grin “just a little further” he repeats once more as he continues up the path, your hand still held tightly in his. You had followed him for as long as your reason had allowed but now you were venturing into parts of Dragonspine unknown even to you as he dragged you up yet another beaten path. You smile half heartedly, trying to ignore the primal sensation of fear when Albedo smiles at you, the undeniable emotion of something being deeply wrong every time he tightens his hold on your hand.

You stop walking and begin to try to coax your limb out of his grip but the gentle tugging of your hand out of his makes his smile drop. He balls his now empty fist as he pauses and stares down the offending limb as though it had personally wronged him. you stare at your feet, your eyes darting between your snow scuffed boots and the sweet flowers clasped tightly in your other hand as you try to avoid albedo’s gaze permeating through you. Albedo’s lack of social adeptness was often something you found endearing, another quality which raised the alchemist’s standing in your eyes but right here in the crisp morning air of Dragonspine with the sun shining far too bright, there was never another quality you despised more. The chief alchemist simply stared. you tried to move. You could apologise to Albedo for your behaviour later but as you were about to move your legs his fist grasped onto your wrist with a bruising grip. You reflexively dropped the sweet flowers that you had kept grasped securely in your hand as Albedo’s cold hand fixed around your wrist. You couldn't find it in your panic stricken haze to even think about the flowers that were now resting on the cold mountain snow.

You yelped out in pain before looking up at Albedo for an explanation for his sudden change in demeanour. He offered none, instead he shifted his cold, stiff body closer against yours so your fronts were pressed together, chest to chest. He breathed down on your face, his breath wasn’t warm or wet like you had expected, instead it felt cool on your skin. Snowflakes settled on his long lashes as his pupils dilated, flickering to your lips. You stood stock still as confusion began to cloud your mind. Albedo’s gloved other hand rose to your lips, gently caressing them. “So warm…” he muttered absentmindedly as he traced the curve of your cupid's bow before his finger fell down to your lower lip. You enclosed your only free hand around Albedo’s, coaxing his fingers away from your lips instead you placed it down by his side “‘Bedo… I promised Sucrose those flowers, I need to get back to Mondstadt soon” his expression hardened before he finally acquiesced. Albedo’s dismay at you having to leave so soon was apparent until a mischievous glint alit in his eye. He tightened his grip on your arm before he whispered against your lips “I'll let you return to Sucrose if you promise me adequate compensation…” you could have laughed at the absurdity of Albedo’s demands “compensation?” you guffawed “You can't be serious Albedo.” he pulled you closer, no space was left between you as he tittered airily, running his hand softly through your hair “shh shh shh… I don't want mora and I don't want favours, I just want” his cheek flushed pink in spite of the confidence he exuded as he breathed out “I just want a kiss. That's all.” You were perplexed at Albedo’s request, since your relationship with the chief alchemist had been formalised he had rarely felt the need to formally ask for permission to kiss you but the Albedo here and now was blushing like a virgin at the mere thought of it.

Typically you might have questioned his sudden change in behaviour but with some divine intervention seemingly handing you a way out of this awkward exchange on a golden platter you didn’t feel inclined to throw it back in the face of whichever archon had decided to bless you with this opportunity. Instead you leaned in softly before pressing a gentle, hesitant kiss to Albedo’s lips. To your relief his remaining grip on your hand loosened as your lips skimmed his but the sudden slackness didn't seem to affect just his hand but rather his whole body as he didn't kiss you back. Instead Albedo kept his eyes tightly shut as his entire body froze, the only part of his body that seemed tense was his furrowed brows. It was as though he were in a state of deep contemplation, focusing only on memorising the feeling of your warm lips on his. With his attention completely on the feeling of your mouth slotted against his own and his arms resting loosely by his sides, you took the chance to quickly separate yourself from him, turning away and fleeing along the frosty pathway down the mountain in a desperate attempt to escape the unnerving encounter.

You couldn’t hear Albedo calling out to you or following behind you so once you had made significant distance between where you and Albedo had been standing you turned to face him. To your surprise Albedo hadn’t moved an inch, he stayed exactly as you had left him, as though suspended in the moment in which your lips left his. The only difference is that this time his eyes were ignited with a cold determination, a look you knew to be unique to Albedo when he made a breakthrough experiment, when he found an ingredient he had been scavenging for months to find, when he finally located a dusty old tome or scrap of paper which had the information he needed and now when he stared at your frame scurrying down the mountain. As the base of the mountain came into view and your nerves began to settle you realised that in your desperation to get away you had left the flowers on the snowy ground. You halted for half a second, your foot pivoting as you prepared to venture back up the winding path but as your eyes met the incline up the mountain you were filled with paralysing nausea. Every single instinct in your body was fighting against the idea of going back up the mountain. Whatever interaction you and Albedo had shared up there, a raw, primitive, instinctual part of you knew that it had been wrong, that it had been off, that if you went back up the path then you truly believed you would not make it back down the mountain for a second time.

●・○・●・○・●・

Almost slipping down the mountain in your haste to escape your peculiar encounter with Albedo you didn't dare stop until you reached the Adventurer’s camp on the outskirts of the mountain where you finally felt the hammering of your heart slow for the first time this morning now that you had escaped the sheer cold of Dragonspine but even then with Albedo’s peculiar behaviour these past few weeks and in particular today you still couldn't feel at ease, even as you began to trudge out of the Adventurer’s camp and back towards Dadaupa Gorge.

You almost did a double take when you saw a frantic Albedo hurrying towards Dragonspine, his hand resting tightly on the hilt of his cinnabar spindle, his body tensed and ready to pounce. “...Albedo…? How did you get down here so fast?” you called out, eyeing the alchemist wearily. You had never felt more bewildered. Upon hearing you call out to him Albedo’s hand loosened on the hilt of his blade. He ran to you and wrapped you tightly in his arms, one arm wrapped around your waist so tightly it was suffocating you, the other clawed into your hair, his fingers digging into your scalp. He pulled you close as he had on the mountain however this time he buried his head into your neck as he inhaled deeply.

As you stood there embracing the startled alchemist you could feel just how intensely his hands were trembling but you couldn't help but pry for answers in your state of bewilderment. You were certain Albedo had been behind you as you descended the mountain and even if he had followed you down (which you suspected he had) how would he have gotten ahead of you? Albedo hadn’t been leaving Dragonspine when you met him here but rather he had been approaching, he had to have come from the direction of Mondstadt. You asked louder this time “Albedo, how did you get ahead of me?” You were up on the mountain last time I saw you.” At your declaration Albedo finally peeled his from your neck, his manic eyes darting across you assessing for any damage before he finally seemed to regain some semblance of awareness “how did i… i know dragonspine like the back of my hand Y/N. it wasn’t hard to overtake you” Albedo stated trying to steady his voice. Although it’s likely the Alchemist knew the Mountain far better than you did… you didn’t fully believe him. You couldn't fully believe him. Not when you saw how terrified Albedo had seemed as he bounded towards the mountain in such a distressed state you almost didn't recognise the alchemist, not when you felt just how tightly he had clutched onto you as though you were about to slip through his fingers, not when you could feel how frantically his heart was beating as he held you to him.

You continued to insist Albedo explain what had happened, why he had been acting so strangely. The expression in Albedo’s eyes was unreadable, something you had never seen in the chief alchemist’s eyes before, something almost reminiscent of fear. As you both traversed down galesong hill towards the city of freedom you stopped Albedo and turned him to face you as you whispered in a pleading tone “Albedo please… just explain to me what happened up there. I’m not upset with you, I'm just confused. What happened up there? You seemed rather out of sorts.” Albedo’s lips grew into a thin line, the expression on his face was a grim one but instead of any explanation he simply pressed the back of his palm to your forehead “you’re burning up” he mutters. Yet again Albedo’s actions fill you with nothing but confusion.

“Burning up? What are you talking about Albedo? I feel fine just please, answer my question” you cry out, frustration beginning to rise as he dances around your question yet again

“Yes, you’re shivering too and it’s clear you’re in a state of confusion, from these symptoms I’d estimate that you’re suffering from the early stages of hypothermia” Albedo says in an even, methodical tone

“H-hypothermia? Albedo what on Teyvat are you-?” you pause as Albedo begins to take off his coat, wrapping it tightly around your shoulders

“Honestly you should have dressed warmer if you were planning to go to Dragonstone, you need to take better care of yourself Y/N. now come on, you’ll need to be treated for this but I'll only be able to do it back in Mondstadt where we can warm you up” Albedo said wrapping his arm around your waist as he began to walk even faster towards Mondstadt, keeping you tucked closely into his side. You didn’t feel weak and you didn’t feel tired, the rational part of your mind wanted to doubt Albedo’s diagnosis but an equally significant part of you wanted to accept what Albedo said, to dismiss this whole morning as some strange illness induced hallucination. yes that must be it... You insisted internally. You’re unwell and this illness is messing with your head like Albedo says. You’re not being completely rational so right now just need to trust Albedo and head back to Mondstadt for treatment and you need to forget how Albedo keeps glaring at Dragonspine with pure loathing as though daring the mountain itself to come and try to take you from him, It must just be the cold getting to you.

186 notes · View notes

masked-men-fantasy · 4 months

Text

Ask about their manhood size Headcanon (Dead by Daylight)

Headcanon for my beloved masked men from Dead by Daylight. What have they got for us?

NSFW Content. MDNI.

The Trapper

In this case, you didn't ask to know his size. You learn about it accidentally when he secretly washes himself in the heavy rain.

He takes off his workwear bib and lays it on the ground; only his fully naked body is shown. He scrubbed his body to wash out all the blood stains.

That is when you find out how beautiful his body is.

Well-built, gorgeous muscle, perfect body fat ratio, thick pecs, mass thighs, and well-rounded buttocks.

And, of course, his manhood part.

The sight is not clear, but it can be assumed that he has an 8-inch shaft. Not to be surprised, there are open wounds on it as well, making you wonder if it hurts or not.

Curiosity does kill a cat; your foot makes a cracking sound because of the dried branch nearby. Notified by the sound, he quickly reached for his cleaver and walked directly to the source of the noise.

You attempt to run, but then your foot steps into the bear trap that he placed inside the bush.

Evan finally reaches you. The shadows of his body covering your entire body show how big he is compared to you.

To your surprise, he does not pick you up to bring you to the sacrificial hook. Instead, he pushes you down on the floor, and your face tastes the ground. The trapper lifts your hips up and tears open your pants.

You are in trouble—very deep trouble now. Hopefully, it is a kind of trouble that you have on your mind.

The Knight

"If I were to show you such a private matter, would you accept to be a sex slave for me and my pack for a week then?" Tarhos makes an offer. One that is very difficult to turn down.

You slowly took out the metal armor on his lower part until it revealed a thin red loincloth and what he had inside.

Around 4 inches when flaccid. Then you have to put in some work to make it hard.

6.5 inches when fully erect, and the tip of his cock is pretty red, so it can be assumed that he has not done it for awhile.

He is also uncut.

Not well-trimmed pubic hair. It is not so shaggy or dirty; you can assume that he does not have much self-grooming experience, so he might use any convenient blades he could find to cut those hairs.

Now that you know the answer, you know what is going to happen next, yes?

Tarhos strikes his sword down the ground, a green aura lights up through his sword, and the faithful three are summoned.

"Let us enjoy this slave I found," Tarhos said, his lustful eyes looking through his helmet. The same goes for those three who just show up.

You are so done for.

#dead by daylight #dbd #the trapper x reader #evan macmillan #the knight x reader #tarhos kovács #x male reader #trapper x reader #knight x reader #the trapper x male reader #the knight x male reader

208 notes · View notes

walkxngdxsaster · 4 months

Text

'It's got like... caramel, right? Caramel, toffee, and a little bit of, like, nail varnish, I think.' 'We've got amazing alcoholics in the Patel family, so this is approved.' - Dev Patel, 2024.

ᴅᴇᴠ ᴘᴀᴛᴇʟ & ᴊᴏʀᴅᴀɴ ᴘᴇᴇʟᴇ ʀᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʟᴅ ꜰᴀꜱʜɪᴏɴᴇᴅ | ꜱɴᴀᴄᴋ ᴡᴀʀꜱ - 2024.

#dev patel #gif pack #dev patel gif pack #dev patel gif #jordan peele #monkey man #monkey man 2024 #old fashioned #દેવ પટેલ #the green knight #lion #slumdog millionaire #Indian #Indian food

34 notes · View notes

quillpokebiology · 2 months

Note

You mentioned a couple of times Bisharp and Gallade pair well, do you have any facts or pic on this crossbreed? :0

Yup! Here is one with a Bisharp father!

Pokemon Crossbreeds: Knight

Knight is the name for members of the Gardevoir line whose father's were members of the Bisharp line. The breed was named after their more armored and knight-like appearance. They've been bred by humans for a long time, as both Bisharp and Gardevoir have been by humans for centuries.

Ralts

Knight Ralts gain larger and sharper horns, a split-colored head that has a slightly metallic texture, and a mark on their chest that resembles a chest-plate. Due to the larger and sharper horn, these ralts are able to pick up on emotions easier, which can be overwhelming for them. These ralts are more defensive and aggressive than standard ralts.

Kirlia

Knight Kirlia no longer have flaps of skin resembling a skirt, instead, having fat wrap around their legs which look like pants. They have broader shoulders, sharper horns, and a darker stomach resembling a chestplate. It still follows the defensiveness and aggression of Bisharp, and they are often seen leading packs of Knight Ralts.

Gardevoir

My personal favorite of this line. Knight Gardevoir gain a sharp horn on their head, a green top, green gloves, and a bit longer hair. Knight Gardevoir have been loved for centuries for their mastery over battle and their more serious and knowing disposition. They lead groups of Knight Ralts and Kirlia. Some ancient kings in Galar had a Knight Gardevoir. Mega Knight Gardevoir gain long hair and longer ears, resembling Kingambit more than regular Knight Gardevoir.

Gallade

Knight Gallade gain the crest of Bisharp, border shoulders, extra blades on their arms, and larger hips. Not much changes behaviour wise, as Gallade are already aggressive and noble pokemon, but many battlers love this breed for their extra blades and extra defense. Mega Knight Gallade gain longer ears and a black cape, resembling the hair of Kingambit.

//My designs can be used by anyone if you credit me! Talking about designs under the cut

I had the idea for this crossbreed but I put it in the back of my mind bcuz there was always something new ig.

Ralts was pretty easy to design. It's hair already looks like a helmet, so I just made it look more like Pawniard's helmet. Was gonna leave the helmet primary colored, but then I went hack and gave it two color to match Pawniard's more.

Kirlia was more difficult bcuz it and Bisharp don't have much in common, so I instead just made it more serious looking and gave it the traits I could; like feet, hands, shoulders, and a chestplate.

I traced an old Gardevoir crossbreed I made bcuz I prefer the one I made over the canon one (for tracing at least. Also, its called Chantelaines Gardevoir!). But my main goal was to make it look a bit like those Warrior queens you see. For both Gardevoir and Gallade, I primarily used Bisharp as inspo because it felt right, but I did put Kingambit in there top (the sword mustache becoming long ears, the triangle shaped shoulders, and the markings on the shoulders).

I gave Mega Gardevoir longer hair to match Kingambit's. I also traced an older piece, which was traced from canon, but I just used it for the small edits I made when I made it.

Gallade was nice, and lowkey inspired by Roman Gladiators. Random fact, but did you know gladiators rarely ever killed? It was like wrestling back then, so it would be expensive to have them die, and extreme violence in Gladiator fights was frowned on. There were some cases where murder in gladiator fights were encouraged, but not as many as you'd think. Anyways! I was so happy to fix Gallade's hip wheel bcuz while Gallade may be one of my fav pokemon and I think the hip wheel is a furled up dress, I can still find it weird.

Not much changes with mega gallade, and I kept the OG color scheme. Though, the cap was hard to color since I kept swapping from blue to green to black. Eventually I decided on black to match with Kingambit's hair since it already didn't have a lot of Kingambit traits.

125 notes · View notes

catpriciousmarjara · 11 months

Text

Dp x Dc fic idea

Part 2

So I've been re-watching Yu Yu Hakusho lately and was struck with an idea. What if there was a tradition in the Infinite Realms that the Ghost King would conduct a multiverse level fighting tournament? It probably started as control measure of some sort or stress relief for extremely powerful beings and the Ghost King is the only one who's true neutral enough to judge and powerful enough to kick their asses if they misbehave.

And the final prize is that the Ghost King would grant you a wish? As well as one time access to Zeroth Hour? And that's a reward no one can resist.

I'm imagining a scenario where Darksied or something was gearing up to once again invade Earth, and the JL and affiliated all prepared to defend the planet but before the attack could be launched, a green blob appeared right in front of Darkseid and somehow it actually makes the tyrant flinch. That made everyone pay attention. And then the blob announces the beginning of the tournament and Darkseid promptly packs up and leaves, leaving the heroes dumbfounded.

So something like this:

The air was rife with tension. All eyes were on Metropolis, at the gaping maw of the portal opening right above the city. The forces of Apokolips were once again invading. Darkseid had declared war.

Earth's heroes stood grim, ready to give their lives in defence of the planet. Their gazes were fixed on Darkseid, standing in front of his army, surveying his opponents. His general stood behind him, primed for combat.

Abruptly the pressure doubled, and the heroes tensed, readying for battle.

Darkseid raised his left hand, to light the spark of war. But before he could bring it down, the space between the two factions, right there in the middle, twisted.

And from the distortion, a titanic, green, humanoid...blob appeared.

The heroes stared. The New Gods stared. The creature did not stare, as it had no eyes, nor did it care.

It then spoke, with a solid, booming voice completely incongruous with its make.

"Uxas of Apokolips!"

The heroes watched in bafflement as their greatest foe jolted.

"The Infinite Realms hereby declares the beginning of the Grand Tourney. You are cordially invited to participate on behalf of Apokolips."

Among the Earth forces, one John Constantine felt dread overcome his body as he realized what exactly was happening. Shit, was it that time of the millennium already?

Captain Marvel seemed to be on the same vein of thought as the Wisdom of Solomon as well as the knowledge of his predecessors filled him in on what was going on.

The Dark members in the know had similar reactions. All across the planet, and in the dimension, magical entities who had tuned into watch the fatal confrontation, felt excitement racing through them as they realized what this meant. Other beings? Not so much.

Batman was cataloguing these strange turn of events carefully. Superman was puzzled but still held himself ready. Green Lantern was trying to figure out why exactly his ring was behaving strangely and giving out sparks. Martian Manhunter was analyzing the curious psionic readings he was getting from the creature.

Wonder Woman and Aquaman however had the dawning expression of recognition on their faces, which did not go unnoticed by their Gothamite colleague.

Surprisingly the Flash was looking at the creature as if it wasn't the first time he saw it. That too was noted by the Dark Knight.

On the Apokolips side however, there were no signs of puzzlement. Instead it looked like excitement was spreading like wildfire through the army, and even Darkseid looked eager.

The creature took note of none of these developments and continued.

"The first event is the Great Hunt. As an invited participant, a hint would be provided to you should you accept".

It bent its great, gelatinous head towards the Apokoliptian ruler.

"Do you accept, Uxas of Apokolips?"

In response, Darkseid stepped forward. "I accept."

And in a flash, before the New God appeared a pitch black card, and the creature announced, "Uxas, Ruler of Apokolips, Participant Number R813."

It straightened to its full height. "Your first hint is on Apokolips, young ruler."

And the next second it was gone, with the same exact warping of space it had come from.

The two factions were left alone, sans eldritch green goop.

Most of the heroes had one thought: What the fuck just happened and did the green goop thing call Darkseid young?"

Darkseid did not waste anytime however. He turned to his army and ordered, "Retreat!"

And just like that the great army filtered back through the portal they had come from, and the mortals heroes of Earth watched, perplexed. They still held themselves at the ready, in case this was all a ploy of some sort, and half of them believed it was. After all, what could make an obsessive tyrant like Darkseid turn back?

A good portion of the heroes were trying to figure out what the Grand Tourney the creature had mentioned was.

And those in the know? Well they knew chaos was incoming.

The portal closed and just like that, Earth lived to see another day. Via interruption by magical goop.

..............................................................................................................................

And there you have it! Personally I think a scenario like this is hilarious. Imagine you're on the battlefield, facing a gargantuan, godly army, readying yourself for a battle that could kill you. And then the battle was cancelled cause your opponent had somewhere urgent to be.

I don't have a clear cut idea on what Zeroth Hour is beyond it being a great timey-wimey, wibbly-wobbly thing, so any ideas are welcome.

The Tourney only happens once every 100,000 years, and it takes place across the omniverse, on different terrains, different timelines, different dimensions and so on. The card that Darkseid got acts as an access key to tournament sites he doesn't normally have access to. The card also monitors participants and is programmed to hell and back to not allow the participants to misuse it. There are dire consequences if you do.

There are 14 stages in total, and the final, combat stage is conducted in a ever evolving, ever changing battle ground on the edges of the Ghost Zone.

Faerie here is not the Fair Lands in DC, and does not follow the dc fictional mythology.

Infinite Beings do not take part in the Tourney.

The last victor was a half dragon, half god prince from Dimension 976123065. He asked for the opportunity to court Princess Dorothea. It was a reality show moment for the Ghost Zone.

Also some extra details:

The JL would of course come to know what the Grand Tourney is, and then realize that if Darkseid won, he would get the anti-life equation that way. And before they could panic their mind would be blown by the fact that apparently, Darkseid is not likely to win at all, cos there are bigger players in the game.

Constantine would be forced to admit that even if you don't get an invitation, you can still participate if you register. Though you won't get the opening hint or any other boosts until Stage 5. He can't understand why anyone would want to considering that those who do get invitations are on the level of Darkseid and higher.

Batman would insist they check it out.

Constantine would say that he has no idea where the registration office is.

Captain Marvel would chime in that the office was most likely in the Faerie.

Constantine would then insist that they have no business messing around in the Faerie. JL Dark would nod vehemently in agreement.

Batman insists they at least watch the tournament. Constantine gets conned into organizing a watch party.

PART 2

487 notes · View notes

sarahghetti · 1 year

Text

missing piece; j.l.

pairing: jake lockley x reader centric, marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader

summary: how you and jake get together.

warnings: literally all fluff, a little insecurity from jake, a lot of nuisance from marc and steven, female!reader.

word count: 2.4k

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

out of the three of them, jake is the one you meet last.

marc and steven have mentioned him, of course: the third alter, a little sarcastic and a little aggressive, but who will still make kissy noises at every cat they pass even though his success rate is… quite low.

for a while, the extent of your knowledge about him is just tidbits like that—the things that jake lets the others share from the safety of their headspace.

he’s a cab driver. he likes 2% milk, the leather gloves laying on the corner of the coffee table are his own, and he thinks that steven is a better cook than marc.

(steven might have made that last one up. all you see is him looking into the reflective surface of the pot before he snorts, claiming, “yeah, jake definitely agrees, love, trust me.”)

but that’s not to say that jake doesn’t know anything about you.

he’s always been there throughout your relationships with marc and steven, watching as you smile and laugh and kiss them with so much light in your eyes that they might as well as hung the sun in the sky.

marc and steven have learnt about what you like, what you dislike, which means that jake learns these things as well, and even steps in sometimes to remind them.

marc’s on a grocery run, trying to recall which salsa you liked the most the last time he made tacos. “the one with a green label, pendejo.”

steven’s packing your lunch for work, signing off on a note to stick at the top when—"hey. draw a frog on that.”

“what?” steven felt jake watching, but didn’t actually expect him to speak up. “what are you talking about?”

“she’ll like it.”

“I—”

“nevermind, just give me control of our hand.”

it’s terrible. it’s ugly. the faintest depiction of a frog that’s ever lived, marked with a little “- j” so you know exactly who it’s from.

you absolutely love it.

he doesn’t mean to fall in love with you. truly, he doesn’t. to him, you’re theirs, and he’s still hesitant to get involved with their lives any more than necessary.

but how could he not? not when they spend so much time with you, and he feels that aching warmth in their chest whenever marc or steven look at you.

he finds himself laughing at your jokes even if he’s not the intended recipient, admiring how you look even when you’re not getting dressed up for him.

marc and steven know, of course they do, and accept his feelings far before he does.

because I think at the beginning, jake is nervous to front around you.

you fell so easily for marc and steven, and though he’ll never say it to their faces, he gets it.

marc’s a real softie once you get past the ten-foot tall wall he’s erected around himself, and steven’s… well, steven.

but jake? jake “protector of the body” lockley, who’s sole self-imposed purpose is to keep their heart beating? he’s not a “people-person.” he doesn’t know how to love someone, at least in not the way you deserve to be loved.

“so dramatic.” marc rolls his eyes as he finds himself fronting on their doorstep. jake heard rustling from inside, indicating that you were home, and immediately relinquished the hot seat to one of the others. “you can just talk to her, you know.”

“I know.”

even steven scoffs at him.

“oh, yeah?” to his credit, jake manages to maintain eye contact as marc stares at him in the reflection of a picture frame. “you wanna get back in here, then? say hello to our girlfriend like a normal human being for once?”

when jake doesn’t respond, he continues.

“that’s what I thought. it’s not complicated, you don’t gotta fuckin’ sweep her off her feet or something—"

marc’s words are cut off as you open the door, eyebrows furrowed. “marc? are you just going to… stand outside all day?”

he gives one last pointed glare to his reflection. “nope, we’re coming.”

jake is only coaxed out once you start asking the boys about him.

you don’t want to push him if he really doesn’t want to talk to you, but with all the little things he does, you can’t imagine that that’s the case.

“pass this along to jake for me, would you?” it’s the frog drawing that he made for you some time back, but now with the addition of your own smiling frog beside it. “I’d give it to him myself, but…”

marc can see you deflate a little as you trail off, and that’s illegal in this household. his heart sinks, and he knows that the others can feel it too.

fortunately for everyone, guilt is a wonderful motivator for jake—particularly where you’re involved.

so it starts off small. when it’s time for him to work a cab shift, he doesn’t wait till they’ve already left the apartment to front, instead taking over just before in order to say goodbye to you.

“I’m heading out for work.”

the voice—so clearly your boyfriends’ but a bit flatter than marc’s, more softly accented than steven’s—makes your head snap up from the couch. a flat cap, light jacket layered over a button-up shirt.

black leather gloves.

“jake!” you can’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed about how excited you sound, jumping up to your feet. your enthusiasm to finally see him has his face heating up, and he ducks his head to hide it before you can see.

he fiddles with his sleeves. “don’t be awake when I get back.”

“uhm.” you ruminate over that for a second, confusion so plain that jake has to hold back a grimace. then it hits you—

oh. he just doesn’t want you to stay up on his behalf.

“okay.” you smile. “have fun!”

he snorts. “I’ll try. good night, querida.”

those few minutes before he leaves has you looking forward to his shifts, even if it means that you have to go to bed alone.

initially, jake doesn’t let himself think that you always being around when he’s fronting is anything more than a coincidence.

but then one night, you’re out hanging out with friends, and he gets a text as he’s stepping out the door: be safe! have a good shift :)

jake can’t really argue with himself after that.

(that, and the other two heckle him about it so much that he has to accept it. steven already has to deal with marc’s self-confidence issues—dealing with jake’s are much easier in comparison.)

still—

“don’t even know if she likes me,” jake grumbles as he enters their building, hands stuffed into his pockets. he’d already parked his cab for the night, not too far from the flat, and the walk home has been the three of them running around in circles on the topic.

“don’t even know if she likes me,” steven repeats, not unkindly, but still very much annoyed. “mate, do you hear yourself?”

“she’s just kind, that’s all.”

“she remembers your schedule better than marc or I do, and we’re all in the same body!”

jake clicks his tongue as he rides the elevator, avoiding the reflections around him, lest he comes face-to-face with his alters.

marc chimes in. “you do know if you ask her out for dinner or something, she’ll say yes, right?”

he misses inserting their key the first time, swearing under his breath.

“I’m serious. we’ve talked about it before—”

“don’t be stupid—” jake opens their door a bit more harshly than intended, and the sound stirs you from where you dozed off on the couch.

“jake?” you rub your eyes, yawning. the sound of your voice shuts them all up, and you sit up just enough to look at him. “welcome back.”

“what are you…?” jake gestures vaguely and you shrug.

“wanted to surprise you, but I guess I fell asleep,” you chuckle softly, and his heart clenches.

“a-ha! you see? our poor girl was staying up late just to see you! how are you going to say that—”

jake tunes steven out as he walks towards you, pretending to be unaffected when he extends a hand.

“come on, let’s get you to bed.”

he doesn’t ask you about a date that night—you’re far too tired to be thinking about that, after all—but he turns the idea over in his head.

asking you out to dinner seems so formal, but it’s not like he can just buy you a coffee, either. what’s the protocol for asking out your alters’ girlfriend?

”you’re thinking about it too much.”

yeah, he knows, marc—that doesn’t make things any better.

gradually, he starts to front more during the day.

not as often as marc and steven, but enough for you to learn a bit more about him: how he likes his coffee (black, as expected), his favourite breakfast (eggs in a basket), and that he likes playing ABBA in the flat while doing other things.

jake is very much a ‘fake it till you make it’ kind of guy—is he nervous about spending time with you? of course not—how could he be, when he flirts and jokes around with you so easily?

and flirting with jake is fun. it’s all surface level—he refuses to touch the elephant in the room that is your obvious feelings for each other with a ten-foot pole—but he’s shameless in a way that marc and steven aren’t, making you hot in the face at the most inopportune times.

he might be wearing a smirk the entire time, but he means every compliment, every word that he says to you.

sometimes you hold his gaze for too long and see how his eyes soften when he looks at you, and it takes your breath away.

jake wants you so hard it hurts. he knows he’s digging himself a hole with how (little) he expresses himself, and although it fills him with anxiety, he knows that he’s going to need a different approach in order to actually let you know how he feels.

your hand is nestled in the crook of marc’s elbow as you walk past storefronts on the way home, pointing out the things you see in the window displays.

“those are the pots you were talking about, right?” marc gestures towards a set of expensive ceramics in all their glory, and while he’s correct, you shake your head with a sigh.

“’s not the colour I want.”

“your dedication to colour coordination in the midst of steven’s mess is admirable.”

you laugh, continuing on ahead until you stop in front of a boutique. in its display case is a sleek, form-fitting dress that falls so beautifully on the mannequin that it makes you suspicious as to how it’d actually look on someone. “oh, that’s pretty.”

marc hums from above you before stilling suddenly. you know what comes next; you’re ready to greet steven when—

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you in that, querida.” the corner of jake’s mouth curls and you roll your eyes, grinning.

“hey, jake.”

“hey.” his smile is lopsided, almost boyish. “don’t suppose you wanted to pop in now to try it on?”

“you’d like that.” he shrugs, guilty as charged. “but nah, I’m getting kind of hungry.”

jake gently tugs you with his arm. “then let’s go get something to eat.”

it’s a reoccurring joke between the two of you, and it’s your turn to deliver the punchline. your voice is teasing, “you asking me on a date, lockley?”

“yes.”

his tone stops you in his tracks. gone are any traces of humour as he holds your gaze. it’s the most serious you’ve ever seen him for a while.

that’s not right. he’s supposed to smirk, full machismo, and say something like obviously, princesa. your brain lags. “I—what?”

“I’m asking you out. do you want to go get dinner?”

you stand there, gaping like a fish as you internalize what’s happening. it takes everything in jake to not fidget on the spot or backtrack with another teasing comment. no, he has to make you see that he’s serious about this, even though his heart is racing a mile a minute.

slowly, a smile grows on your face until you’re beaming at him, and all the tension releases from his body. “yeah. yes, let’s—let’s go, jake.”

it’s nothing fancy. it’s not even new, either. he leads the way to one of your go-to places whenever nobody wants to cook, and though it’s your first official ‘date’, a sense of comfort settles over you.

begrudgingly, jake admits—the solution has always been a simple one. you don’t need him to be marc or steven, or to plan the perfect date. you’ve always just wanted to know him.

he can see as much in your barely constrained excitement as you both take a seat, legs brushing up against each other under the table. so, what else can he do but let his guard down for once?

finally, finally jake’s opening up to you, and he absentmindedly traces patterns on your hand with his thumb. “what do you want to know?”

well—lots of things, but there is something that you’ve been meaning to ask him…

you tilt your head, curious. “do you actually think that steven’s better at cooking than marc?”

“dios, are you kidding me?” his lips curl up with so much distaste that you can’t help but laugh, and you bury your head in your hands; the sight warms him from the inside out. there’s so much jake wants to tell you, but—

there’s no rush. you have all the time in the world, after all.

#moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing

815 notes · View notes