#title from florence + the machines what the water gave me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leslie-lyman · 2 years ago

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i cannot get you close enough [alpha!Max Phillips x omega!fem!reader]

[title from the Florence + the Machine song “100 Years”]

summary:

“You have to invite me in, sweetheart.”

Oh. Right. Vampire.

“Come in, please,” you say demurely, and Max’s smile widens as he steps over the threshold into your apartment. He reaches for you again immediately, kicking your door closed and pulling you close.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Such a polite little Omega.”

rating: E 🚨 (you must be at least 18 years old to read/interact with this fic or anything else on my blog)

warnings: oh lordy, here we go. A/B/O dynamics; one small scene of men being creepy and threatening towards reader (but, perhaps surprisingly, one of those men is not Max); extremely self-indulgent Halloween costumes on the part of your author; a bit of angst; fEeLiNgS; absolutely way too much plot and character backstory for what was supposed to just be porn; Alpha!Max is his own warning; heat sex; biting; blood-drinking; breeding kink; many, many creampies; Max has an absolutely filthy mouth; look, it’s heat sex with Max, it probably (hopefully?) entails exactly what you think it does

word count: 12.4K. You heard me.

a/n: HAPPY (belated, forgive me) BIRTHDAY @ezrasbirdie!!!!!! This one’s for you, babe. Thank you for encouraging me to finally write down my alpha!Max idea and for always being the most supportive, wonderful, amazing friend. I love you to bits and hope you had the loveliest of birthdays. ❤️❤️❤️ also thank you to @whataperfectwasteoftime for being my sounding board while I worked on this and for willingly subjecting yourself to increasingly unhinged screenshots of snippets of heat sex as I wrote them.

Masterlist. Taglist.

———

You meet Max on his very first day.

Water cooler gossip had preceded him:

He’s the youngest person in company history to be made a Senior Director of Sales.

He really turned around a failing branch in Albuquerque, if you know what I mean, and now he’s being brought in here to HQ.

He’s a vampire.

He’s an Alpha.

“A sales guy, a vampire, and an Alpha? Sounds like this guy won the douchebag lottery,” Morgan, your closest work friend, murmurs to you over lunch one day after overhearing some of your colleagues gossiping about the impending new addition to the sales team.

You snort into your salad, fiddling with the silver bracelet on your right wrist - a subconscious tick you did whenever your conversation involved talk of an Alpha.

“Well for better or worse, at least we have lots of experience dealing with men like that around here,” you reply. And lord knows you did.

The company was full of men like that, especially here in its New York headquarters. Men who swaggered around, cocksure and confident whether it was warranted or not (it usually wasn’t), hitting on female subordinates and superiors alike (though there were unfortunately few of the latter).

And good god, the smell. Most Alphas, in your experience, smelled like they’d recently emerged from a dunk tank filled with Axe body spray. It was a scent that pushed its way into your sinuses and took up residence like a squatter, overwhelming and nausea-inducing.

But most Alphas, in your experience, also overlooked you. Why should they give you, a Beta, any more than a glance, when they could otherwise be chasing some poor unmated Omega? And you were glad of it, the Alphas you encountered in your workplace and out in the world rarely giving you more than a passing leer and a sniff before they realized you gave off no scent of your own and moving on.

You can’t imagine trying to navigate through life if they knew the truth: that you were an Omega. You just went to great lengths to hide it.

Modern suppressants worked wonders, acting as birth control while keeping your Omega subdued and limiting your heats to two miserable weekends a year. But pills alone could not hide what you were entirely. The delicate silver chain around your wrist did the rest, the unassuming metal imbued with a powerful charm that erased all outward evidence of your designation, making your Omega undetectable to the senses of others. An old-fashioned relic from a time long before the invention of suppressants, handed down across many generations of your mother’s family.

Apart from your heats, you never took it off, and were grateful for it every day. You were content to make your own quiet — if often lonely — way in the world, confident that if someone ever were to take notice of you, they’d do so because of who you are, not what you are.

And you were comforted by the knowledge that Max Phillips, whoever and whatever he was, would leave you be just like every other Alpha you’ve met, and be none the wiser.

Max’s boss, Hector, an older vampire, brings him by your division as part of an introductory tour on his first morning. You’d been prepared for the perfunctory handshake and sly, flirty grin he gives you as you tell him your name.

“Nice to meet you, Max.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, sweetheart,” he responds in that overly confident, borderline-inappropriate way typical of both Alphas and salesmen.

You had not been prepared for how handsome he is. The smooth, sharp cut of his jawline looks like it could cut glass. His strong nose is slightly hooked, but it only enhances his features, rather than detracts from them. His skin has a golden hue that’s a richer shade than most vampires you’ve met, who tend to have a paler, more washed-out quality to them. His expensive three-piece suit fits him like a glove (with the exception of his cuffs, which, you note, are a half-inch too long), and it shows off his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He’s going to break hearts all over this building, you can already tell.

But how he looks is nothing compared to how he smells.

It had hit you the moment he’d walked in, strong and overwhelming. But where other Alphas’ scents make you want to retch, this scent makes you go weak in the knees. You can almost feel it curl around you like a living thing, warm and comforting, with a hint of spice and an undertone of something a little sharper, like clean linen, and you wonder if that’s his vampirism’s influence. You want to wear it like a favorite sweater, you want to rub up against this man like a cat, you want him to scent you…

That ridiculous thought makes you shake yourself back to reality. Hector is introducing Max to your coworkers, your brief moment of introduction long over, but you notice Max stealing a glance or two back in your direction. There’s a hint of a frown tugging at his plush lower lip when he does, like he’s confused about something. You resist the urge to spin your bracelet around your wrist, not wanting to draw attention to it.

It’s alright. You’re fine. He can’t smell you. He can’t know. Even with his enhanced vampire senses, your Omega is hidden. And that’s for the best. Just like it always has been.

You watch as Max and Hector round the corner to head to the next suite of offices, and Max’s scent begins to fade. For a moment you have the ludicrous desire to follow him, but you quickly shove it aside and turn back to your work.

You’re a paralegal for the company’s legal department, so you and Max will be working on complete opposite sides of the office from each other. It should be easy enough to avoid him going forward.

And you need to avoid him, because even though you’ve only interacted for a few moments, one thing is painfully obvious:

Max Phillips is, above everything else, trouble.

———

His first month in his new role has Max busier than he’d anticipated. Unlike in his previous roles with the company, working at HQ has him surrounded by more Alphas and more vampires than he’s ever been before. Forget the endless cubicles of lazy mediocre employees spending their time building their fantasy football leagues and watching porn instead of working; the New York office is full of people like him: driven, competitive, ruthless, intelligent. Alphas. Vampires. He can’t coast here, not when he’s amongst so many peers who all have the same sorts of biological and supernatural advantages that he does.

Max has to work hard to keep up and get ahead here, to outmaneuver the other Senior Directors, to suck up to the bosses, to think up the Next Great Sales Idea before someone else does.

He loves it, even if his schedule is more packed than it ever has been. This is what he’s meant to do, this is what he’s so good at, and however much time and effort the company demands of him, he’s happy to give it.

So why, then, during his rare moments of free time, do his thoughts keep returning to the pretty Beta over in Legal?

There’s something about her that he can’t quite figure out. He only sees her occasionally, happening to pass her in the hall or going in or out of the break room with a mug of tea (never coffee, he notes). Rarely he’ll manage to catch her eye, but she always looks away the moment he does.

He can’t help but notice the way her clothes always fit her perfectly; dresses in rich jewel tones that sweep over her beautiful curves; high-waisted trousers that make her petite frame seem tall and statuesque; blouses with jeweled buttons or other delicate details. He should ask her, he thinks, where she buys it all, and how she affords such an immaculately tailored wardrobe on a paralegal’s salary.

Someone brings donuts into the office one day, and Max has the strangest urge to bring her one. Before he can waste too much time thinking about it he plucks one from the box and makes his way over to her desk.

———

You aren’t in your chair, but your purse and coat hanging off the back of it make clear that you’re here somewhere. Max deposits the donut and napkin next to your keyboard, and takes a moment to snoop.

There aren’t a lot of personal items on your desk - a framed photo of an older couple who must be your parents, a coffee mug emblazoned with the name of your alma mater currently holding an assortment of pens, a little figurine of that baby Yoda character from that Star Wars show everyone but he seems to have seen.

But then he notices the drawings. There are a few tacked to the fabric walls of your cubicle, all women in different outfits, done in a combination of pencil, marker, and watercolor, all of the kind you would find in a fashion designers’ sketchbook.

Then Max realizes that there is, in fact, a sketchbook sitting on your desk, large and well-loved but cheap-looking, something you could pick up for a few bucks at any craft store. Is this your hobby? More importantly, why does he suddenly care to know? Max is no judge of art, but the drawings are beautiful, and he can’t help but imagine what these dresses, if made real, would look like on you…

“Can I help you, Mr. Phillips?”

He jumps, turning to find you standing there, watching him be far nosier than he should be around your desk. You’re wearing a sleeveless dress and matching long blazer in deep cream linen today. He glances down at the donut he’s brought you and feels uncharacteristically foolish. What is he even doing here?

“No, sweetheart, I was just…” A coworker - one of the actual lawyers - walks by. “I was just waiting for you, Clark!” He swiftly catches up to the other man and throws an overly friendly arm around his shoulders as they walk back towards Clark’s office. “Buddy, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I’ve been told you’re the man to talk to about IRS compliance issues, or, rather, how to get around IRS compliance issues…”

———

Well that was odd.

You sit back down at your desk, reassured that Max doesn’t seem to have opened your sketchbook. You just keep it around in case inspiration strikes at work.

Then you notice the donut, the unmistakable scent of a certain Alpha all over it. Did he - did Max really - ?

Alpha provides, your Omega purrs, and you want to roll your eyes at yourself. Is the bar for men really so low that one of them bringing you a donut should make you want to open your legs for him?

But you also can’t help but smile, finding it a sweet gesture in spite of yourself.

———

You and Max become…workplace acquaintances, shall you say, after that. You don’t force yourself to avoid eye contact with him whenever you pass in the hall. You allow yourself a few moments of small talk when you happen to be in the break room together. You start calling him Max, instead of Mr. Phillips.

His scent doesn’t get any easier to bear, though. Nor does the way his shoulders fill out his suits.

It’s pleasant and superficial, even if you know it can never go any deeper than that. He’s friendly and nice, and even seems to get a little flustered by you sometimes, which you enjoy. And he doesn’t openly hit on you, which is a surprise, one you tell yourself you’re grateful for even if your Omega desperately wishes he would.

It’s all well and good, until it isn’t.

You’re crammed into the back of the elevator one day when you're running late and trying to get up to the office. Max and several of the other Alphas he spends much of his time with get on last, and suddenly you’re privy to an ongoing conversation you soon wish you could tune out.

“—nothing like it. But you’re telling me, Phillips, that you don’t see the appeal? Having a little Omega mate always waiting for you at home? Some insatiable thing always there with a warm meal and a wet cunt?”

You can hear Max make a hmm of acknowledgement at the other Alpha, who apparently sees nothing wrong with sharing his misogynistic views of Omegas in a public elevator surrounded by colleagues. Typical.

“Omegas can be fun, don’t get me wrong,” Max replies. “But they’re also so clingy and always want to talk about bonds and mating and commitment.” His dismissive tone makes very clear what he thinks of those ideas. “Why would I tie myself down when there’s so much of me to go around? Omegas are more trouble than they’re worth.”

It shouldn’t hurt. It shouldn’t. There’s two rows of people separating you; Max doesn’t even know you’re in this elevator, let alone that you’re an Omega. You should be glad he feels that way — then if he ever discovered your secret, you wouldn’t have to worry about him being interested.

Omegas are more trouble than they’re worth.

The elevator dings, and Max and the other Alphas file out.

“Just wait until you meet your mate, Phillips. You’ll change your tune real quick.”

“Yeah, and god help whoever ends up mated to this asshole.”

“Shove it, Bret, you’re just still pissed my team outsold yours last month.”

The rest of their conversation fades away, but the inexplicable nugget of pain in your heart does not.

———

The company’s Halloween party is its biggest employee event of the year, surpassing even the annual Christmas soirée. It’s always held at a ritzy hotel in downtown Manhattan, the kind of place you couldn’t afford a room at even for one night. Attendance is optional.

Technically.

But really, it’s one of those events where failure to show up signified a lack of enthusiasm for the company. And even though you approach this job as just a thing you do that lets you afford rent instead of your great calling in life, you don’t want to risk making things more difficult for yourself by skipping out this year. Besides, you just finished an incredible new costume and you’re eager to show it off.

Even if you are cutting it awfully close with your heat this time.

You’ve felt it coming on all week, that telltale prickle of warmth under your skin that won’t dissipate even in the crisp autumn chill that’s finally descended upon New York. The Friday night of the party, it’s almost upon you, but you figure you have until the next morning before it truly arrives. You can make it to the party. Say hi to a few people, make sure your bosses see you there, have one drink, then bail.

You’ve already put together your nest, the pile of blankets and pillows and the odd stuffed animal carefully arranged on your bed. You’ve stocked up on Gatorade and cheese cubes and popsicles, things you can snack on quickly in between rounds of feverishly fucking yourself on one of your knotted toys. You’ve done everything you need to do to make this heat bearable just like you have for your whole adult life, to minimize the deep ache in your core that will never stop reminding you of the one thing that’s missing:

An Alpha.

And you know, deep down, that this time when you’re alone in your nest and begging out loud to no one for an Alpha to come and fill you up, you’ll be picturing a very specific Alpha in particular.

You try to put Max from your mind as you zip yourself into your dress and put the finishing touches on your hair and makeup, making sure your silver bracelet is secure around your wrist. You’ve managed to keep your interactions with Max to a minimum in the two weeks since overhearing him in the elevator, and that is for the best.

Nothing but trouble, you remind yourself. He can be absolutely nothing but trouble.

———

You are sure that most of the time, the ballroom where the party is held each year is a perfectly elegant place. Multiple chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and large gilded mirrors on the walls lend the place an elegant, old-fashioned, Gatsby-esque vibe.

Unfortunately, whoever at your company is in charge of planning the party insists on ruining the natural classiness of the room by putting a light-up dance floor in the middle of it, over which looms a DJ playing tacky remixes of “Thriller” alongside whatever counts as Top 40 these days. The walls are flooded with aggressively purple uplighting like you’re at every wedding in New Jersey circa-2012, and there’s a bar shoved into every corner serving every liquor imaginable and featuring multiple bowls of questionable punch on beds of dry ice. It’s like all the loud, drunken Halloween parties you went to in college, but with a much larger budget.

But it’s fine. Get in, be seen, one drink, get out.

You smooth your hands over your skirt as you walk in. Your costume with its petticoat is a far cry from the skimpier outfits many of the other women in your office tend to gravitate towards for this party, but you don’t mind.

You’ve been making your own Halloween costumes since you were a teenager. Your mother made them for you growing up, and passed on her love of sewing and fashion to you. Last year, you were the Scarlet Witch, handmade headpiece and all. The year before that, you came to the party in a replica of Belle’s blue and white dress from the beginning of Beauty and the Beast.

This year’s costume is more obscure, but near and dear to your heart. The bodice is blood-red satin, with a swooping boat-shaped neckline that shows off just a hint of your breasts. The fabric bunches together in off-the-shoulder sleeves that stop at your elbows, with a scrap of delicate ivory lace attached to the end of each one. The skirt falls in ruffled tiers of black, but for an open panel at the front that shows off the layers of white petticoat underneath. Black lace bows cut across the white three times, and the silhouette makes your waist look small while the skirt flares and moves like waves when you walk.

You’ve built a few pockets into the skirt for practical reasons, but otherwise, it’s a damn near exact replica of Catherine Zeta-Jones’ dress from The Mask of Zorro.

You quickly find Morgan and your small group of work friends giggling over drinks in a corner, and they appropriately ohh and ahh over your outfit, having come to look forward to seeing what you’ll come up with for your costume each year. A trace of Max’s scent reaches you, but it’s faint, and hard to detect under the myriad scents of the other Alphas in the room. He’s here, somewhere, but you don’t see him. Which doesn’t matter, because you aren’t looking for him, despite the way your nearly-in-heat Omega is growing increasingly wild over it.

You’re halfway through your one drink when it gets to be too much — too many people, too many scents, music loud enough you have to shout to be heard, a room that feels far too warm. Pinpricks of light start to dance at the edges of your vision, and your bodice feels too tight; you can’t get enough air. You excuse yourself from your friends, and take your drink into the hall.

You wander until you find a much more quiet corner where the noise from the party is subdued. There are several padded velvet benches along the wall and you sink onto one with a sigh, closing your eyes and trying to determine whether you’ve stayed long enough and whether you’ll be missed if you head home now. What you wouldn’t give to be able to snap your fingers and skip the ride home, to just be magically transported straight to your cozy nest in your dark, quiet apartment…

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t notice the way a particular scent grows stronger, indicating that you’re no longer alone.

“Buenos noches, Señorita Montero.”

Your eyes fly open.

It’s Max. It has to be, the way his delicious scent sinks into every inch of you, invading your senses and making your stomach clench. But for a split second you blink at him in confusion, forgetting for a moment that you’re at a Halloween party, because the person standing before you isn’t Max.

It’s Zorro.

Zorro, in head-to-toe black, from his boots to his (tighter than in the movie) pants to the billowy shirt that exposes a significant amount of his chest. A fancy-looking sword hangs from his belt, his shoulders draped in a cape that falls to behind his knees. The trademark black mask covers his eyes, but the wry twist of his lips gives the illusion away — that look he’s giving you is all Max.

You recover from your initial surprise, laughing at your serendipitous coordination.

“Well, if it isn’t Zorro himself,” you say, playing along. “I’m surprised to see you at a party — you’re not here to cause trouble, are you? Should I be worried that there’s danger afoot?”

“Tonight, I am only here for the entertainment,” he replies, in a surprisingly accurate imitation of Antonio Banderas’s accent. “And to perhaps enjoy the company of a beautiful lady.”

You chuckle, but the humor’s gone out of it.

“Well if I see any, I’ll be sure to send them your way.”

Max frowns.

“On the contrary,” he says softly. “I’m speaking to such a woman right now.”

You flush, your body growing even warmer at his compliment.

“Can I sit?” He asks, dropping the accent. You gesture to the bench cushion beside you.

He settles next to you, maintaining a respectful distance and taking care not to step or sit on any of your dress.

“I had such a crush on Catherine Zeta-Jones in this movie,” he admits. “It’s still one of my favorites.”

“I had such a crush on her and Antonio Banderas in this movie,” you tell him. “That scene where they dance together basically invented sexual chemistry.”

Max nods in agreement.

“Where did you ever find a costume of Elena’s dress from the party?”

“I made it.”

“You…made it?”

“I’ve always made my own Halloween costumes. I make most of my own clothes, actually.” You’ve also got a shelf holding several awards from cosplay competitions you’ve accumulated over the past few years, but you don’t mention that to him. He doesn’t need to know the full extent of how nerdy you are.

Max raises his eyebrows in surprise (or at least, you think he does under the mask).

“So that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Why you always look so good. I mean — ” if he still had the ability, you think he might be blushing right now. It’s adorable. “Why your clothes always look so good. On you. Why everything always seems to be…well-tailored.”

“Well-tailored,” you repeat, your Omega preening at his praise, odd though it is. “That’s one of the more unique compliments I’ve ever been given, Max. Thank you.”

He grins at you for a moment, before his features soften into something else.

“I haven’t seen you around the office as much lately,” he says quietly. “Everything okay?”

Your heart stutters in your chest. Your fingers go to your bracelet, the metal cool and comforting.

You can’t tell him you’ve been avoiding him, let alone tell him why.

“I’ve just been really busy lately, I guess. Some days I feel like I never have a free minute to leave my desk at all.”

“That’s a shame,” Max says, shifting just an inch closer to you on the bench. “But perhaps if you don’t have time at work, we could find a time to see each other outside of the office? Maybe…I could take you to dinner next week?”

Oh my god. Is he — did he just — ?

It’s not a come-on, it’s not a lewd proposition, Max Phillips is genuinely asking you out. You’re sitting here dressed as Zorro and Elena and it feels like you’re no more than five damn minutes away from your heat and Max Phillips is asking you out.

You want so badly to say yes. Your Omega is screaming at you to say yes (and then jump his bones right here in this hallway).

But you can’t. There are so many good reasons why you can’t.

That overwhelmed feeling is starting to suck you under again. You can’t think clearly, not when he’s this close to you and you’re this close to your heat. You have to get out of here.

You stand up.

“I’m sorry, Max, I — ”

“Whoa, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” He stands and reaches out a hand to steady you, but you step away before he can.

“Nothing, I just, I don’t feel well. I should be getting home.”

“Let me walk you out — ”

“No!” You nearly shout it at him, and the look that crosses his face makes you feel like you’ve just kicked a puppy.

“I’m sorry, Max. Let’s talk about this in the office next week, okay?”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he says softly.

You beat a hasty retreat for the exit, and don’t look back.

———

The entrance to the hotel is on a more quiet side street rather than one of the main avenues, and you’re grateful not to be thrust into the ebb and flow of a crowded Manhattan sidewalk the moment you step outside. But it also means there aren’t many cabs venturing down this way, and you know you’ll never make it if you have to take the subway. You whip out your phone and call an Uber.

Eight minutes away. You can handle that. Eight minutes in the fresh, chilly air, eight minutes to clear your head of the Alpha your body is craving more desperately with each passing minute. Eight minutes, then twenty minutes drive to your apartment. Less than half an hour until you’re home, until you’re safe in your nest.

“Well now, look at what we have here.”

Shit.

Three Alphas are stumbling their way down the sidewalk towards you. Their scent and their inability to walk straight making it very clear they’ve been drinking.

“Look at this pretty little mouse,” one of them says.

Maybe if you just ignore them, they’ll keep walking past you.

“Little mouse is all dressed up like she’s going to a party,” another says.

No such luck. They stop only a few feet from you, taking up the entire sidewalk. Each of them is nearly a foot taller than you are, and they’re blocking your path back into the hotel.

“You wanna come party with us, pretty thing?”

“No, thank you.” You try to say it calmly, but your voice wavers.

“Aww, don’t be like that, honey, we can show you a good time!”

The third one leans towards you and inhales.

“Shit, she’s just a Beta.” But that doesn’t seem to deter them either.

“We can still have fun with a Beta. C’mon little mouse, come have some fun with us.”

“I’m not interested. Please leave me alone.”

“Maybe she’s just never had a real Alpha show her a good time,” the first one says.

“I bet we can make you change your tune real quick, honey — ”

It happens so fast. The second Alpha reaches out to grab your arm, but as you flinch away he catches your wrist instead. When you try to jerk away from him, his thumb snags on your bracelet, and you watch in horror as the clasp breaks.

It falls soundlessly to the ground. But the Alphas harassing you barely notice, all of them immediately interested in something else.

Your skin immediately breaks out in a cold sweat, your scent glands on either side of your neck now visible, red and swollen. And you can see the moment your scent — your real scent — hits them. The three men seem to grow bigger, all of their Alpha instincts triggered at once by the sudden scent of an Omega in heat right in front of them. All three of them breathe deep, and you’ve never felt more like prey.

“Not a Beta,” the third one growls, practically licking his lips.

“Look at that, it’s a little Omega mouse,” the second one says, and his malicious delight makes your blood run cold. The bitter taste of adrenaline floods your mouth. What should you do? If you scream, someone from the hotel has to hear you, right?

“Looks like this is our lucky night,” the first Alpha grins. “Come here, Omega.”

You fight it, you try to fight the compulsion of an Alpha’s command with everything you have, but it’s useless. You take an involuntary step towards him—

But suddenly the Alpha isn’t standing in front of you anymore. Some invisible force yanks him away from you and flings him clear across the street. There’s a painful-sounding crunch as he lands on the windshield of someone’s parked car and shatters it. The effect of his command dissipates.

His companions are just as confused as you are until the next moment they find themselves both shoved up against the building, a figure dressed entirely in black holding them up with a hand on each of their throats.

Max.

The sound he makes is inhuman, a warning snarl that starts deep in his chest. Alphas are strong by nature, but against a vampire, there’s no winning.

There is only one predator here now.

“‘Evening, boys.” He must be showing them his fangs, you can hear it affect his speech. “Looks like you’ve chosen a lovely night to die, hm?”

“Max! Don’t!” You place a placating hand on his shoulder. These men frightened you, yes, and would have done who knows what else, but you didn’t want them to die for it. And more importantly, you didn’t want Max to get in trouble for killing them.

“They threatened you,” he seethes, his grip on their necks tightening. “They touched you.”

“They’re not worth it, Max. Please, I’m safe now.”

He doesn’t let them go. But then the first cramp of your heat hits you, and you gasp in pain.

“Max, I need you. I — please, Alpha.”

That gets through to him. He cocks his head like he’s listening for something.

“Sounds like your friend is still alive over there. You’d better get him to a hospital. And if I ever see any of you again…”

He throws each Alpha one-handed to the ground like they weigh nothing, his point very clear. They pick themselves up, wheezing, and go collect their companion before slinking off into the night.

Max gathers you into his arms, your whole body starting to shake.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, “I have you, I have you, you’re alright.”

“How did you know?” You mumble the question into his shirt.

“I could smell you. All of a sudden. Your scent — you were afraid.”

He tilts your chin up so he can look at you.

“Omega?”

There are so many different questions contained in that one word, but you only have one word for him in reply.

“Alpha.”

Then he’s kissing you, his lips soft but demanding and you yield to him instantly.

“Omega,” he breathes, kissing his way down your throat till he reaches your gland, tracing it with the tip of his nose, his lips, his tongue, scenting you. “Omega, all this time…”

You cling to him, your hands scrabbling to pull his shirt free so you can get your hands on his skin, though you’re not sure to what end.

There is every chance you would have let this man fuck you right here on the sidewalk if not for the interruption of your Uber driver honking at you, having finally arrived.

“Oh shit,” you say, suddenly coming back to yourself. “That’s my ride.”

“Let me make sure you get home okay,” Max sounds like he’s out of breath, an impossible circumstance for a vampire. “I swear to you, sweetheart, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to, but please, just — let me make sure you’re safe.”

The absolute last thing you want is to be alone right now, so you nod.

Max bends down and scoops something off the concrete, a thin silver chain glinting in his hand.

“My bracelet,” you say, having forgotten all about it.

Max turns it over in his palm, and seems to understand. He loops it around your wrist, despite the fact that it’s broken.

“I need you to hold this right here until we get you home. Can you do that for me, baby?”

You can, and you tell him so. When you hold the ends together, the charm re-activates, camouflaging your designation once more. When Max slides into the Uber next to you, you think you see some of the tension leave his body, that at least he won’t have to sit in this confined space with the scent of an Omega going into heat. He settles his hand on your knee, and his touch helps calm you.

You pass the drive to your apartment almost in complete silence. You use the time to consider your options. Max knows you’re an Omega. He knows, and he helped you anyway. In fact, based on the hungry way he kissed and held you back there, maybe you could ask him to help you a little more…

By the time you arrive at your place, you’ve come to a decision. You’ll ask Max to help you with your heat, but that’s all. If he’s willing to do that, despite his stated aversion to Omegas, you can make it through the next 48 hours without doing too many of those Omega things he finds so distasteful. You won’t alienate him completely. You will not be more trouble than you’re worth.

Forty-eight hours, and that’s all you’ll give yourself with him. There’s no use getting attached and hoping for more now that he knows the truth. You’ll ask Max to be yours for the weekend, and no more.

When you finally make it to your front door, it takes you several attempts to get your key in the lock. Max hovers behind you, a hand on your lower back, like he can’t help but touch you.

You turn to him.

“Thank you, Max. I don’t know what would have happened if — ” You can’t even finish the thought.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, but I’m glad I was there.”

“Listen, about my designation, I - ”

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” Max says, shaking his head at you. “And besides, I think I got a pretty good example of why you’d hide it a few minutes ago.”

You both fall silent, just looking at each other, and it’s obvious neither of you wants to part.

“Do you want to — would you stay?”

His lips quirk up.

“What I mean is, it’s my heat, and I was wondering if you…”

“I know it is,” he says quietly. “Since the moment I caught your scent at the hotel, I’ve known. You’re in heat, baby. You want me to stay and take care of you?”

You whine, but that’s answer enough.

“Good,” Max nods. “I want that too.”

You reach behind you and somehow get your door open, letting your bracelet fall to the floor. There’s a moment of confusion as you don’t feel Max follow you inside, his hands slipping from you and for the first time since outside the hotel he isn’t touching you. You turn to face him as anxiety rises, fast and irrational: is he having second thoughts? Does he not want to do this? Is he going to leave you to face your heat alone after all?

These questions must be written all over your face because he gives you a small smile and gently says:

“You have to invite me in, sweetheart.”

Oh. Right. Vampire.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Such a polite little Omega.” And even that bit of praise makes you shiver in his arms, slick starting to leak into your underwear. Max’s nostrils flare and you know he can smell it. Perhaps you should be more worried that you’ve essentially invited a fox into a henhouse, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Alpha is here, and he wants you.

You’d assumed the moment Max got you alone he’d be all over you, and you can feel the tension in his body and smell the desire pouring off of him, but he holds himself back, pressing almost lazy kisses against your lips while he holds you flush against him, his hardening cock thick in his trousers.

“Where do you want to do this, pretty girl? Tell me now, before I strip you down and knot you against your front door.”

Another whine escapes you, your Omega having no objections to that plan, but the rational part of your brain prevails.

“Could we - ” you start, trying to take a step backwards towards your bedroom, “I made - ”

Max grins against your cheek, moving with you down the hall without letting any space come between you.

“Did you make a nest, baby? You make a nice, soft place for me to fuck you in? You wanna show me?”

You nod furiously, pulling him back down to kiss you as you both stumble inelegantly into your bedroom.

———

Max takes care as he undresses you, peeling you out of the layers of your costume without damaging it.

When he’s finally got you bare, he cups your face in his hands and kisses you, just once, before pulling away.

“Go get in your nest, baby, and let me get you ready.”

You obey him eagerly, making yourself comfortable among your blankets while Max strips, his body just as broad as his suits make him seem, but not overly muscled. His cock is big, thicker and longer than any you’ve taken, and you can’t wait to have it inside you.

He strokes himself lazily as he kneels on the bed and looks at you, a little wave of self-consciousness rising in your chest. Does he like how you look? Does he like your nest? You press your thighs together, suddenly worried about what this Alpha might think of you.

But Max quickly puts those fears to rest.

“Spread for me.”

You part your legs, and Max lets go of his cock to run his hands up your legs, just barely ghosting the tips of his fingers over the lips of your cunt, already shiny with slick.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. “You gorgeous girl. Made such a good nest, made such a perfect place for me to breed you.”

Your cunt bottoms out at his words, your Omega all happy and warm at his praise. He drapes himself over you and proceeds to cover your whole body with kisses, starting with your lips, your throat, your glands. He plays with your breasts, cupping them in his palms, and sucks and bites at your nipples until you’re a squirming mess beneath him.

He’s sucking a little bruise into your tummy, just next to your belly button, when he finally breaches you with his fingers, three of them filling you with ease.

“This okay, baby?”

“Mmhmm.” You bite down on your lip and roll your hips, wanting him deeper.

“You’re so wet already, Omega. You wanna cum for me?”

Yes, yes you tell him, and he curls his fingers and puts his thumb on your clit. In a matter of minutes he has you rippling around his fingers, slick gushing onto the bed below you.

“Good girl.” Max sticks his fingers in his mouth, licking up every drop of your slick. He leans down and kisses you, his tongue possessive as it tangles with your own, sharing the sweet flavor of your slick with you.

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart. Get on your hands and knees for me.”

His cock pushes into you slowly once you’re in position, his hands on your hips holding you firmly, not letting you fuck yourself back on him.

“You’ll take it slowly this first time, Omega,” he says, finally seating himself to the hilt. He gives you time to adjust, until finally your patience breaks.

“Please move, Alpha. I’m ready, I wanna feel you.”

He obliges, driving into you with long, powerful strokes. The tip of him bumps up against your cervix, stretching you on his cock, and it’s indescribably good. His fingers had been one thing, but this is something else entirely. You’re surrounded by him, drowning in his scent, and it works you up to another climax astonishingly quickly.

“Alpha, I’m — I’m gonna cum — ”

Max reaches down to rub at your clit and you clamp down around him, keening his name.

“Yes, Omega, let me feel it. Fuck, you get so fucking tight when you cum.”

He plants one hand by your head, fingers splayed wide. His thumb rests barely an inch from your face, and without thought you stick out your tongue and lick it. Max hisses above you and you do it again, shifting your chin so you can take his thumb fully into your mouth.

“Oh, baby girl,” he growls, slamming his hips against yours, “you need it, don’t you? You need me in every hole? I’ll fucking give it to you. Need me to fuck your ass next? I’d love to see you all stretched out on my cock, watch you try to cram my knot inside that pretty little asshole - ”

You manage to garble out a little mhm around his thumb and Max moves his other hand to your shoulder for better leverage, trying to go faster, to get himself deeper inside you.

And it feels so good, his cock filling your pussy, his fingers in your mouth pushing you even further into the submissive haze of your heat. Drawing your Omega further up from where you’d buried her for so long, until she rises to the surface, set free. It feels good to be used, to be a good set of holes for Alpha to fill as he wishes, to have such a clear and useful purpose.

“You ready to take my knot, baby? You gonna take it all for me? Gonna let me breed you?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you moan, and Max comes undone. You feel his knot swell and catch inside you, locking you together and he cums and cums, filling you over and over with his spend. He trails kisses across your back, murmuring praises into your skin.

“You okay, sweetheart? Does it feel good? Such a good Omega for me, taking my knot, taking all my cum. Gonna make me such pretty babies, aren’t you? Gonna keep all my cum inside you until it takes, hm?”

You try to lift your hips, try and press yourself even closer to him. He won’t get you pregnant, he can’t. Vampires only shoot blanks, but when your heat takes control of you, your body doesn’t care about such technicalities. You’re so eager for it, you want it so badly.

And the small part of your brain that’s still capable of rational thought wonders how the hell you’ll ever come back from this, from him. Now that you know how good this can be, how can you ever go back to going through your heats alone?

You are, in more ways than one, so, so fucked.

———

Max is a surprisingly attentive Alpha. When you make to get out of bed to get something to drink, he pulls you back in, going to get it himself with a small growl of “stay.” He brings you back a bottle of Gatorade and a glass of water, along with some crackers and trail mix you’d left out on your counter. When you reach for the water, he makes a noise of discontent.

“No, let me,” he says, sitting down next to you and holding the glass to your lips. He looks a little sheepish at insisting on doing this for you, and it occurs to you that his Alpha instincts are probably riding him as hard as your Omega instincts are riding you. His innate need to care for you a perfect compliment to your need to be cared for.

Max tips the glass up and watches as you take several long sips.

“Good,” he murmurs, eyes on your throat as you swallow. When you’re done, he sets the glass on your bedside table. A drop of water clings to your bottom lip, and he leans over to kiss it away. He licks along the seam of your lips, politely asking for entrance, and you happily grant it. He tugs you into his lap and you can feel the fever rising again, your brief reprieve from the all-encompassing need to be fucked nearly over.

Max’s eyes darken and you know he can smell it, the way your body is starting to get you ready to be bred again.

“What do you need, baby?”

You squirm in his arms.

“You, Alpha.”

The grin that splits his face is so cocky that under normal circumstances you’d be tempted to smack it off him. But doing so is the last thing on your mind when he twists you around so your back hits the mattress, your entire field of vision taken up by your Alpha.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he coos, reaching down to line himself up with your entrance, “that’s fucking right.”

———

This is the odd routine you find yourselves in: your mutual desire rising to an inevitable peak, culminating in a furious round of mating that ends with Max’s knot filling you over and over with his seed. But once you’re both temporarily sated, you get periods of lucidity to rest. Sometimes you take a short nap on Max’s chest, other times he feeds you from the plethora of snacks he’s fetched from your kitchen.

One time he carries you into the shower, refusing to let you walk there on your own. You intend to finally get all of your makeup off and product out of your hair from the night before, and you do, but barely have you done so before Max has you pressed up against the tile, frantic to replace the scent of him on you that you’ve washed down the drain.

He fills you again but doesn’t knot you, instead wrapping you both in a towel and rolling you back into your nest, still damp all over. He wedges his shoulders between your legs, spreads you open with his thumbs, and just looks, mesmerized. Then he leans in and licks up the steady trickle of slick and cum that leaks from you with a groan.

“You taste like me, baby. Look at how much of me you have inside you. You can’t even keep it all in.”

He gathers what his tongue missed on his fingers and pushes it back inside you.

“That’s what - ngh - that’s what your knot is for, Alpha,” you pant.

Max nods sagely in agreement.

“It is, Omega, that’s true. But I think I need to make some room for more before I breed this needy pussy again, don’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for your reply before diving in with his tongue once more.

———

“How long have you been a paralegal?”

“Since I finished college.”

In all the things people told you about what to expect during your heat, “making small talk with an Alpha while you wait for his knot to go down” was not one of them.

But you find you don’t mind it. Max is surprisingly easy to talk to. He’s sharp and funny and laughs at your wit. He asks you more questions about yourself while you’re locked together on his knot than you’ve been asked during the entirety of some first dates you’ve been on, and seems to genuinely care about your answers.

You like him. A lot. Fuck.

“My parents want me to go to law school,” you tell him. “Being a paralegal is a way of appeasing them, though I don’t know for how much longer.”

“You don’t want to be a lawyer?”

You shake your head no, brushing against Max’s chin from where he’s lying on his side behind you.

“I like my job well enough. It’s predictable, and I’m good at it, and it’s good money and rarely insane hours. But the law isn’t my grand calling in life.”

“What is?”

You burrow your head into the pillow.

“It’s silly.”

Max gently runs his hand up your side, trailing his fingertips along the outer edge of your breast.

“I’m sure it isn’t.”

You take a deep breath.

“You know how I told you I make most of my clothes?” He hums the affirmative. “I’ve done it a few times for other people, too. A few formal dresses, some Halloween costumes, even a cosplay outfit or two, all for friends or their kids. If I could do anything…I think I’d do that. Make beautiful clothes for people that make them happy.”

Max is quiet for a moment. Then he asks:

“Why don’t you?”

You snort. “What?”

“Why don’t you? I’m sure you’d be amazing at it.”

“I can’t exactly work full-time and take commissions, Max.”

“So quit your job.”

You almost sit up in surprise before remembering at the very last second that you need to be careful how much you move right now.

“Quit my job? Just like that?”

“Why not?”

“I — I wouldn’t even know where to start. I don’t know the first thing about how to set up a business.”

“That’s okay, I do.”

You freeze.

“What do you mean?”

You feel him shrug.

“Well, not to brag or anything, but you may have noticed that I’m kind of amazing at the whole business thing. If you need help setting up a business plan and getting things off the ground, I could help.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. He isn’t yours, you remind yourself. So what if he just casually offered to help your biggest life dream come true? Who knows if he even really means it. It’s dangerous to get too close to him, it’s dangerous to let him into your life that way. This is. Just. Temporary.

“That’s…very kind of you, Max.”

“I know. I’m really quite something.”

You reach back and elbow him in the ribs the best you can from this angle, but he just chuckles and curls himself back around you.

“What about you?” You say, eager to change the subject. “Why sales?”

“I like making money and I’m very good at it,” he says simply.

“Typical Alpha.” You roll your eyes.

He tickles your side in retaliation.

“Hey!”

You giggle, trying not to move in a way that will pull painfully at his knot.

“I just mean…Alphas like to win. Lots of opportunities to do that in sales, where you have exact numbers that can show exactly how much you’re dominating your competition.”

Max playfully nips at your ear.

“I guess that’s true. I’ve never thought of it that way before.”

He curls his hand over your hip and grinds his knot even further into you, making you gasp.

“Although, Omega, speaking of dominating…”

———

Max is asleep next to you. At least, you’re pretty sure he is. Do vampires need to sleep?

Regardless, his eyes are closed, and he’s unnaturally still in a way that’s a bit unnerving. His chest doesn’t rise or fall, he doesn’t snore or twitch, his pulse doesn’t beat beneath his skin. Still, he must be tired. You’ve probably exhausted him. He’s sure as hell worn you out over the last 24 hours.

But your skin still feels flushed and hot, your body insisting that it’s time again. Slick leaks steadily onto your thighs, your cunt starting to throb with the need to cum. You hate the idea of waking Max up, hate the idea of seeming that desperate and needy, of embodying all of the things you know Max doesn’t like about Omegas.

Maybe you don’t have to bother him this time. Maybe if you can just sneak your hand down towards your clit, if you can just get yourself off one time, it’ll trick your body into calming down until Max wakes and can fuck you properly again. If you can just be quiet…

You circle your clit with two fingers and bite back a small sigh of relief. It’s nowhere near the same as when Max does it, but hopefully it’ll suffice until -

“What do you think you’re doing, Omega?”

You freeze, turning your head to see Max now wide awake and pinning you with a stare that lets you know you are in a lot of trouble.

“N-nothing.”

“Nothing?” Max hums, shifting until he’s hovering over you. He pulls your hand away from your cunt and secures both your wrists above your head in a one-handed grip. He trails his other hand down your body until he’s petting gently at your clit.

“It looked like you were touching yourself. Were you?” His tone is calm, but there’s a wicked gleam in his eye that says otherwise.

“Yes.”

Max tuts, his fingers still barely stroking you, enough to make you squirm but not enough to get you anywhere near your climax.

“I - I thought you were asleep,” you say by way of apology.

“Vampires don’t sleep. We - ” Max searches for the right word, “rest, in a way. But if this pretty little pussy needs to cum, all you have to do is say so.”

He dips his head to pull your nipple into his mouth before letting it go with a dramatically loud pop.

His fingers start to move faster, pressing more firmly against you, touching you in a way you know will make you cum, but you’re still so empty. You need something to cum on, you need to be full of Max’s cock. You can feel it hard and hot against your thigh as he lightly grinds it against you.

“Max, please, I need to feel you - ”

“Oh no, sweetheart, I don’t think so,” he tells you sternly. “You decided to take this orgasm for yourself when you thought I was asleep, you decided to make yourself cum without being filled up, and now that’s exactly what you’ll get. Naughty girls don’t get to cum on their Alpha’s knot.”

You writhe underneath him, seeking more stimulation, but he’s so much stronger than you are that you’ll never be able to get more than exactly as much as he’s willing to give you.

“It’s not enough, Alpha,” you whine.

“Shh,” Max hushes you, his fingers never stopping. “Of course it isn’t. But punishments aren’t supposed to be satisfying. Cum for me like this, just this once, and then I’ll give you what you need, okay?”

You can’t do anything other than nod, and it isn’t long before you’re cumming, your orgasm barely more than a few ripples of pleasure compared to the tidal wave you know Max is capable of giving you when he’s fucking you full. He watches your pussy clench weakly around nothing.

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos at you with false pity. “That wasn’t a good one at all, was it? See what happens when you don’t let your Alpha take care of you like he should?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you say meekly, trying to appear as submissive and compliant as possible.

“You still wanna be my good girl?”

You can’t tell him yes fast enough.

“Then turn over, sweetheart. Show me all of that pretty cunt.”

You scramble to obey, going down on your forearms with your hips in the air. Max spreads your cheeks apart and inspects you, everything on display for him. You nearly jump when you feel him run his tongue all the way from your clit to your little puckered hole, tasting every inch of you.

“Mine,” you hear him murmur, almost to himself. Then you feel his cock nudge against your folds, and in one swift stroke he fills you. You don’t get even a second to breathe before he starts to move.

Max cups the back of your neck, his hand large enough that he can reach both of your scent glands at the same time, and presses his fingers and thumb into them. The message is very clear: submit. You instantly go limp like a ragdoll, the pleasure overwhelming. Another orgasm rolls through you from the stimulation, this one so strong you’re reduced to whimpering and drooling onto your blankets as you quietly pulse around him.

“Oh fuck, atta girl, atta girl,” Max grunts behind you. “This is what you really needed, isn’t it? Just needed a firm hand and a big cock to take care of you, hmm?”

And it is. It really fucking is.

———

Keeping track of time isn’t the highest priority for you at the moment, but you’re vaguely aware that Saturday night has bled into Sunday morning has bled into Sunday afternoon. The periods of rest you get are slowly becoming longer. Another twelve hours or so, and you’ll be almost entirely out of your heat. Normally, you’d be counting down the minutes. Instead, you’re dreading having to give Max — or at least, this fantasy you’ve built with Max over the past two days — up.

You’re lightly dozing and trying to forget about it when you become aware of Max spooning himself up behind you. His cock is hard against your ass, which isn’t surprising, but what is surprising is the way he nuzzles into your neck, kissing and lapping at your gland before moving up and fixating on a spot just under your jaw—where you know he can hear your heart beat.

“Max?”

“Mm?” Is his only response. He hooks an arm over your stomach and pulls you closer, precome smearing from the tip of his cock across the small of your back. He sucks at the skin of your neck, rolling it between his lips and giving you what you’re sure will be a hell of a hickie. You hiss at the feeling, and the sound snaps him out of it.

“Fuck.” He sits up, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Max? Are you alright?” You reach out and lay what you intend to be a comforting hand on his forearm, but he goes still under your touch.

Run, whispers some primal part of your brain, some base instinct that understands before the rest of you does. Max runs a hand over his face and nods, but his gaze falls to your wrist and fixates there.

Right where you know your pulse is beating.

“You’re hungry,” you breathe, and the instant you say it you know you’re right. “You need to feed.”

“I normally shouldn’t, not for a few more days. Though in my defense,” Max says with his typical dark humor, “I’m expending an amount of energy I wasn’t necessarily anticipating this weekend.”

A pang of guilt lances through you. More trouble than they’re worth.

“No, hey, it’s alright.” Max places two fingertips gently on one of your glands, responding instantly to the distressed change in your scent and going to soothe you. “I have people I can call.”

He shifts away from you like he means to get up, like he means to leave your nest, and you tighten your hold on his arm.

“Just feed from me.”

Max shakes his head.

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.” It comes out perhaps more harshly than he intends. He turns back and crowds you into the bed, cupping your face in his hands.

“What if I can’t stop? You smell so good, you have no idea how much I want to devour you, consume you, in every way you’ll have me. You smell better than anyone I’ve ever - ”

He cuts himself off with a groan, burying his nose in your skin and licking a long stripe up the skin of your sternum.

It should scare you, the way he talks. You should heed the little voice that now screams danger, predator, run. But instead you thread your fingers through his hair and pull him closer, grinding your hips up against him, and all you can think of is yes.

“You won’t hurt me,” you say, and you mean it. “I trust you. You can have me, in whatever ways you want.”

You tilt your chin up and to the side, exposing your neck to his wild gaze. An invitation, followed by words you know he cannot possibly resist:

“Please, Alpha. Take it, it’s yours.”

Max snarls, flipping you both around so that you’re in his lap, the hard length of him trapped between you. The first hint of his knot is already starting to pulse at the base in his excitement. You roll your hips, rubbing your clit along the underside of his cock, automatically seeking that friction. His hands wrap around your waist and egg you on, your slick starting to coat him.

“Fuck, sweetheart, can you take me again? Let me be inside you when I - yes, that’s it baby, there you go - ”

He lifts you up just enough that you can sink down on him, and despite how wet you are and how many times you’ve done this it’s still a delicious stretch. There’s something about this position, too, where you’re face to face and chest to chest, that feels more intimate than the other times he’s fucked you. Max’s skin may be cool to the touch, but his eyes are so warm, a rich, deep, unrelenting brown you’d never truly noticed before.

He’s so beautiful, you can’t believe he’s yours.

For the weekend, you remind yourself. Just until your heat is done. You have to try your best not to lose sight of that fact.

You duck your head down to press your nose into the skin of his neck. He has a pair of scent glands here too that match yours, larger but usually less obvious. Now, though, you can see how they’re swollen and reddened like your own, and the little bird called ego flutters in your chest that that is all your doing. You swipe your tongue over one, and the taste of his pheromones is exquisite. It makes you clench around him.

“Come here,” he murmurs, guiding you up with a hand on the back of your neck. He kisses you, slow and deep, gliding his tongue across yours like he’s trying to capture the taste of himself from you.

“Are you sure?” He asks, grasping onto his very last thread of control.

“I’m sure,” you reply, offering him your neck again.

“No,” he tells you, one hand circling your wrist and pulling the inside of your arm towards his mouth. “Not your neck, baby. Too much risk.” You open your mouth to protest, but Max reaches down to circle your clit with his thumb and your ability to form complete sentences deserts you.

“Cum for me first. Let me make this so fucking good for you.”

You’re not sure how he could make this feel better than it already does, stretched on his cock that hits something deep and spine-tingling inside you at this angle, his thumb expertly working your clit and pushing you quickly towards your orgasm.

You hang onto his shoulder with your free hand and rock against him. Max rubs his nose against the soft skin just below the inside of your elbow and breathes you in. At first you think it’s a trick of the light, but then you realize his features really are starting to change. His skin darkens to a ruddy red. His brow bone thickens and distorts his face. His eyes go black, and when he speaks, you can see a hint of his fangs.

“Don’t be afraid, baby. You’re doing so well, doing so good for me. Perfect little Omega, giving her Alpha everything he wants, everything he needs - ”

But you’re not afraid; the very last thing you feel at this moment is fear. Max presses his lips against your arm, right where you know he’s going to bite you, drink from you, and it sends you over the edge.

You cry out and Max growls in triumph, finally sinking his fangs into you as you cum. It hurts for the barest moment before the pain blurs into pleasure, a numbing, tingling warmth emanating from his bite. His other hand leaves your clit and grips your hip hard enough you know you’ll bear marks from that too, pulling you down onto his cock as his knot swells and catches inside you.

It’s so much, it’s too much - you’re sure you’ve never cum so hard or felt so good in your life, and all you can do is hold Max’s head against where he suckles at your arm, breathing a litany of yes, Alpha, yes, against his temple.

Eventually, you start to come down from your high, the two of you still locked together by Max’s knot. He lifts his head away from you, blood coating his mouth, and presses his forehead (which morphs back into its usual size, shape, and color) against yours.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You nod, or at least you think you do. You haven’t been awake long, but you’re so tired all of a sudden, and are content to fall against Max and sleep.

———

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s time to wake up. I need you to wake up for me, c’mon now.”

Max strokes a hand up and down your arm, gently shaking you into wakefulness. It takes longer than usual for you to fight your way up to consciousness, your head a different kind of fuzzy than what you typically feel during your heat. Finally you blink your eyes open to see Max above you, and you swear you see relief cross his face when you do. He cups your cheek in one massive palm.

“There she is, my pretty Omega.”

You smile, leaning into his hand, sleep already trying to claim you again.

“No baby, stay awake for me. I need you to sit up, okay? Can you do that?”

You make a noise of protest, but allow Max to maneuver you into a sitting position. He climbs up behind you and settles you sideways across his lap, one arm supporting your back.

You rest your cheek on his chest. The lip of a bottle is pressed to your mouth.

“Drink some of this for me, okay?” Max says. “Wanna make sure your blood sugar doesn’t get too low.”

“Can I keep my eyes closed?” you mumble, still so tired.

He chuckles, and you hear it reverberate through his chest.

“Yes, baby. Now come on, drink up.”

You let him tilt the bottle and it’s not until the taste of sweet lemon-lime sports drink hits that you realize how thirsty you are. You down half the bottle before Max takes it away. Maybe Max feeding from you took more out of you than you thought.

“Eat something and then you can rest again, okay?” Max says. “Open your mouth.”

You do, and Max places a square of dark chocolate on your tongue. You close your lips a moment too soon, catching just the tip of his finger as he withdraws it. You hear him murmur a barely audible “fuck” above you, but he makes no move to turn things sexual. You let the chocolate melt in your mouth, and when it’s gone he gives you another, then another, dripping a soft litany of praise into your ear:

Good girl, that’s so good, such an obedient Omega, so good to let me take care of you like this.

He smoothes one hand over your hair and you swear you’ve never felt safer or more cared for in your entire life.

“Told you you wouldn’t take too much,” you tell him. “Told you I trusted you.”

Max’s nose nudges at your hairline.

“I was so scared there for a minute,” he admits. “You had more faith in me than I had in myself.”

“How often do you need to feed?”

“It depends,” he says. “But usually once a week or so.”

“‘M sorry I interrupted your routine.”

“Don’t be,” he rushes to reassure you. “It’s…I’m glad you did.”

And it has to be a combination of exhaustion, blood loss, and the last of your heat hormones that finally removes your self-preservation filter.

“You don’t have to say that, y’know. I know it’s just…” you wave your hand weakly in front of you, “instincts.”

You can feel Max frown.

“What are you talking about?”

You huff a sigh, still not processing the potential consequences of what you’re saying, but instead slightly annoyed at having to summon the energy to explain further.

“Instincts. Like when you call me your Omega - I know it’s just all heat of the moment stuff.” Whatever combination of factors is making you loopy also has you smiling at your pun. “And I know this isn’t even usually your thing. Being with an Omega.”

Max puts a hand around your jaw and forces you to look at him, confusion and anger starting to permeate his scent. You blink up at him.

“That’s what you think?”

“I heard you!” You say, growing indignant. “I heard you that day in the elevator, talking with all your Alpha buddies. Omegas are more trouble than they’re worth, remember?”

You having overheard this is clearly news to Max, who looks away from you. And this is the thing about heat hormones - you can’t resist the urge to soothe your Alpha, even when you’re cross with him, just like you can’t resist the way your body pingpongs from one mood to another so easily, feeling tears start to prick at your eyes.

“But it’s okay, I appreciate you helping me, and I - I promise I won’t do that clingy, needy Omega thing to you. I hid my designation for so long because it was just easier that way, you know? And we can just - just go back to how things were before, after this, and no one else at the office has to know - ”

“Fuck, I was an idiot.”

Wait, what?

“I did feel that way, for a long time. Everyone always says when you meet the right person, it’s different, and I thought that was a load of shit. I didn’t want a mate. I didn’t need a mate. I’m sorry I said those things, and I’m sorry you heard them.

“And I think…I think my Alpha knew, even from the beginning. I liked seeing you in the office. I liked talking to you. I wanted to spend time with you. And then this - ” he gestures around you, “this happened, and it feels…right. Yes, my Alpha instinct is to take care of you while you’re in heat, but I like taking care of you. I want to take care of you. I like…I like having you rely on me, I like knowing you need me. I’ve never felt that way before. And it’s, y’know…it’s not so bad.”

Max smirks, but it’s entirely self-deprecating. There is a feeling in your chest that is dangerously close to hope.

“Really?”

“Trust me, no one is more surprised than I am at this turn of events.”

“So…what happens now?”

“From your scent, I’d say you’ll be out of your heat tomorrow morning, does that sound right?” You nod. “I’d rather we finish this conversation when we’re both more clear-headed. But I think it might mean something, that we’re so…compatible. And I think we should explore that in the near future when we’re not both being driven by a bunch of chemicals that make us want to fuck each other’s brains out, if you’re amenable to that?”

“I am.”

“Good.” He smiles at you, and for once it’s not smug or coy or full of wry humor. Max smiles at you like he’s simply…happy. You want to see him smile at you like that all the time. And maybe you will.

“As for what happens right now,” and ah, there’s the smugness again, as he slides a hand between your legs and cups your mound, “I have a few ideas.”

And it turns out you’re amenable to those, too.

———

It’s Tuesday morning when you show up back at work, having taken Monday off to fully sleep off the effects of your heat and get your bracelet repaired. Max had (very nobly, he claimed) offered to take the day off too, just to make sure you were okay (“and, you know, just in case we need to have sex again” he’d told you with a grin before you’d playfully shoved him out of your apartment). But now you had his number in your phone and a promise to talk later this week.

You walk from the elevator to your cubicle, oddly nervous and excited at the prospect of seeing Max again, even if it’s barely been 24 hours. You don’t spot him, and you try not to be too disappointed. He has his own office, of course, quite a distance from you, and a very busy schedule.

But as you approach your cubicle a familiar scent greets you, and while there’s still no sign of Max, you know he’s been here recently.

A donut sits on your desk. There’s a note scribbled on the napkin underneath it, of a kind you haven’t gotten since about the third grade, but it’s so perfectly Max that it makes your heart melt a little.

Do u like me?

[ ] yes

[ ] no

If yes, dinner Friday?

[ ] yes

xoxo,

Max ;)

You reach for a pen.

[Fin.]

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #max phillips fanfic #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #bloodsucking bastards

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awindylife-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Meeting Martha

Relationships: 10th Doctor x reader, Martha x reader (platonic), Martha x Doctor (platonic), Rose x reader (mentioned, platonic)

Summary: s3e1 Smith and Jones rewrite. The Doctor and you meet Martha and defeat the Plazmavore Florence.

Warnings: short description of a panic attack, mentions of the loss of Rose, the Doctor almost dies again

Genre: angst and fluff

You had just gone to get a cocoa. Just a cocoa, from the coffee machine, in a hospital, ON EARTH, and then suddenly there was an earthquake and you were ON THE MOON. You had stopped to help the terrified people around you and then when you got back the Doctor's room, HE WAS GONE. And you couldn't even go looking for him because there were SPACE RHYNOS marching around. You evaded them, because you figured they were searching for aliens and for all you knew you were alien enough to be in danger. And that meant the Doctor was DEFINITELY in danger and that made breath catch in your throat.

Okay okay okay. Don't panic, just don't panic. He's okay, he's clever, he'll stay alive long enough for you to find him.

You breathed deeply and started your search.

Dangerdangerdanger and he couldn't go looking for Y/N, there wasn't enough time. He knew she was clever and perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but the thought of her alone, out of his sight slipping through his fingers youcan'tprotecther everythingyoutouchcrumblestodustNONONONO-

Martha was calling his name in worry.

"I'm alright, I'm alright," the Doctor assured her as soon as he could breathe.

She gave him a flat look. "I'm almost a doctor, Doctor, and that was a panic attack." She squeezed his hand. "What's wrong?" she all but demanded.

He found himself speaking, "I have a friend, Y/N, she was here with me, and she's not here. She can take care of herself," he assured Martha, "but..." Griefgriefgrief a hole in his chest that could swallow the universe, terror coursing through him like a river and he'll drown-

He was prepared this time and managed to pull himself out, focused on Martha's warm hand in his. "We don't have time for this," he told mostly himself but her too and turned back to the computer. Distraction, he needed a distraction.

Seemingly coming to a decision, Martha asked helpfully, "What are we looking for?"

"I don't know, say, any patient admitted in the past week with unusual simptoms? Maybe there's a backup!" He grabbed the computer and started examining it.

"Just- Keep working," Martha told him. "I'll go ask Mister Stoker, he might know." She left, throwing a worried look over her shoulder.

"That's the thing about Slabs, they always travel in pairs.

"Where the hell have you been?" You finally found the Doctor crouching behind a water dispenser. He was with a doctor, and wasn't that funny. "And why are you barefoot?" you went on in disbelief before he could answer, then decided you really didn't care. At least he was alive, which meant they hadn't found him yet. Relief was so, so good.

You waved in a 'nevermind' gesture and turned to the woman crouching beside him. "Hello, I'm Y/N Y/S," you offered her your hand with a smile. She took it and you helped her stand up. "I travel with him. I hope he hasn't been rude yet."

"Oi!" the Doctor exclaimed, offended. You grinned fondly at him and then focused back on the doctor.

"I'm Martha, Martha Jones. And no, he hasn't been rude yet," she replied, returning the smile and firmly shaking your hand.

"Nice to meet you," you said, pleased, and then there was a platoon of pink rhinos four steps away from you.

"Run!" you yelled, and off you went. (The feeling of the Doctor's warm hand in yours did wonders for your nerves, even though you were being shot at.)

"Y/N, I need time," the Doctor told you.

"Okay, what do we do?" you asked, looking between him and the aproaching army.

"Hold them up." The Doctor was holding your face in his hands and kissed your cheek. "Stay here, get processed!" he ordered and then he was off.

You and Martha glanced at each other. "Well, this should be fun," you remarked. "Don't worry, you're completely safe. You should go before me so they don't mistake you for my associate."

Martha shook her head. "Wait, aren't you an alien too? What if they execute you?" she asked, her black eyes wide with worry.

"Nah, I'm as human as you are," you assured her with a grin and then there were rhynos marching down the corridor towards you. You never did ask the Doctor their name, there hadn't been time.

They flashed that light in Martha's face ("Human.") and then it was your turn.

"Human. Wait. Non-human trace suspected. Non-human element confirmed. Authorize full scan." They pushed you against the wall.

"What are you. What are you."

When the army moved on, you and Martha followed them.

Then there was a room, and a door, and then there was the Doctor. He was on the floor, unmoving. He was as white as a sheet. He wasn't breathing.

"Conformation - deceased."

Everything stopped.

There was someone rushing past you but you didn't care. Then there was something cold against your back and you slid down to the floor. There were shouts and screams but they were so far away.

The chasm in your chest opened and swallowed you whole. There was nothing. There was nothing anymore.

Sometime after darkness took you.

Your eyes flew open and you gasped for breath. You sat up, looki-

Doctor. The Doctor was holding your hand, warm and grinning and alive. Something in you burst and you fell around his neck. He held you tightly as you clung to him, desparatly repeating, "You're-alive-you're- alive-you're-alive-you're-alive-"

"I'm here. I'm here, I'm so sorry, I'm here..." his soft voice joined yours.

You realized you were sobbing and hot tears were streaming down your face. "I thought-" Your voice broke and you couldn't go on. You buried your nose in his shoulder instead, eyes closed, and breathed.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Y/N. I didn't know any other way." His warm breath brushed your neck. The Doctor's voice was tight with sorrow, but there was fear too. Fear that he'd gone too far.

You stopped him, "I know. I know. And I don't blame you, but if you ever-"

"I won't," the Doctor cut you off and held you even tighter. "I swear I'll try to stay alive. I'll be careful, at least for the time being," he vowed, his voice serious.

You nodded into his shoulder. "Good. 'Cause I know what we do is dangerous, and that this'll probably happen again, but please, not now. Not yet." (Not after Rose went unspoken, but you both heard it.

"I promise," he vowed and something in you relaxed. This didn't mean the pain is gone, but the terror had been subjued. You would carry their marks for a long time.

The Doctor gently let go of you enough to see your face. "Promise me too," he pleaded softly.

You were a bit lost so he went on, "D'you think I could bear it any better if it had been you?" His voice was increduolus but full of sorrow, like he couldn't believe you didn't know already.

You squeezed his hand with a nod. "I promise."

He exhaled in relief and found your gaze with his own, then he smiled and his beautiful brown eyes were a little brighter. You returned the smile.

He pulled you to him again now, and you settled in his arms. You held each other for a long time.

When you finally let go, Martha came closer. She'd been opening the windows, and then you thought she'd just stayed away to give you some space.

"Who did you lose?" she asked gently. She wasn't stupid. She was a doctor and she knew grief.

The Doctor and you turned to look at her, and then glanced at each other. "Rose," he answered. You could hear the pain in his voice. "Her name was Rose."

"She was our best friend," you continued. "We loved her, we were a family, and she's gone." You were NOT going to cry.

"She isn't dead," the Doctor gently reminded you, holding your eyes with his intense gaze. "She isn't."

"I know. I know. But we'll never see her again," you said to him and goddamnit you were on the verge of tears. "Not ever."

"She's in a parallel universe," the Doctor told Martha while looking at the floor, "locked away. The walls are sealed, we can't get to her and she can't get to us. The end."

Silence followed.

You took a steadying breath. "But she is alive," you nodded to yourself. "We can hold onto that. She has a future, and we have a future, just not together," you smiled sadly at the Doctor with tears in your eyes. "We'll be alright," you nodded.

He returned the smile with the same sorrow on his face. "Yeah."

You could hear talking somewhere below you, and then sirens and the crowd outside.

"We should go," you told the Doctor, looking up at his face. He sighed and nodded, then pulled himself up and offered you a hand.

After you stood up, you turned to Martha. Brave, strong, clever Martha. You stepped towards her with open arms. She smiled, her black eyes warm, and pulled you close.

"Thank you," you told her, your voice tight. "Thank you so, so much. I can't thank you enough, not just for saving everyone, but for saving him. Thank you."

She chuckled and pulled away to look at you. "You're welcome, and no problem. All there in the job title," she joked.

"Well, thank you, doctor Martha Jones," you grinned.

"But I'm not a doctor yet."

"You will be," you said and it was time.

"Right then, you two. I have patients to tend to, and I'm sure you have some place to be, so off we go." Martha waved you toward the door.

You and the Doctor left the wrecked room and started down the left, while she went down the right corridor.

Next challenge: how to get out of the hospital unnoticed. After a day like this, you thought it would be easy.

"What if we took Martha with us?" the Doctor suggested when you were both safe in the TARDIS.

"I think that's a fantastic idea," you replied with a smile. "But we have to make sure she doesn't feel like she's... like she's second best," you said seriously. "Like she's a rebound."

The last thing you wanted was to hurt the brilliant woman you had met. You knew the Doctor, and you knew yourself. You were both emotional messes right now but that didn't mean you got to demean Martha. You wouldn't stand for that.

"We won't," the Doctor assured you. "We're making a friend, that's it."

"That's no small thing," you told him. "And we're not taking her for just one trip, because if that's what you mean, then it's better to leave her alone," you made sure to look him in the eye. "That would just be cruel," you said sadly.

"I know," he nodded, looking down at the console. "And we're not just taking her for a spin."

"So, if she agrees, she still might not," you pointed out, "she's in for the long haul. Or until she decides she's had enough." But deep down you didn't think she would. She would always have the option to, of course, but there was something telling you that she wouldn't.

"I think she'll stay," the Doctor voiced your thoughts with a soft smile on his lips.

"You know what?" you grinned. "I think so too."

"Let's go get our Martha," he said in that playful tone of his and released the hand brake. At once the TARDIS shook wildly and you both laughed.

Off you went.

#doctor who #doctor who x reader #the doctor x reader #10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor #tenth doctor #the doctor #reader insert #doctor who fanfiction #martha x reader #martha jones x reader #martha jones #martha #rose x reader #rose tyler x reader #rose #rose tyler

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captainkappa · 3 years ago

Text

Fanfic:: What the Water Gave Us

Din can tell something is wrong the minute he walks off the ship. Luke and Grogu meet him on the landing pad as always, but there’s something in the way Luke holds himself, the simple way he says “Hey.”

Din doesn’t run down the gangway, but it’s a near thing. “What’s wrong?”

In which Din and Luke deal with some of Grogu’s more recent trauma, Din gets wet, ripcords are abused, and both of them are trans.

So this was supposed to go up for dinluke week day 6... and then day 7... and now it’s now ^^; BUT I’m still really excited for it and I hope yall are too!

Title inspired by Florence + The Machine’s What the Water Gave Me

AO3 Link

-=-=-=-=-=-

Din doesn’t run down the gangway, but it’s a near thing. “What’s wrong?”

“I-” Luke sighs. “Nothing’s wrong, I’ll tell you later.”

“Tell me now.”

Luke doesn’t say anything as he passes Grogu to Din, letting Grogu get settled in his arms before continuing, “Grogu is fine, there was just… an incident. He fell into the lake and got… really scared.”

“Oh.” And Din immediately realizes the reason for that. When he had first gotten his quest, his focus had been on finding Grogu a teacher and he hadn’t considered the long-term effects of the events of Trask. Whenever he wakes up from dreams of water pooling up under his helmet, he considers it a good night and waits for sleep to claim him. He hadn’t considered…

But Luke is still talking.

“…so, I feel the easiest way to help him would be to teach him to swim but…” and now Luke looks embarrassed. “I can barely tread water and Grogu is so scared so… would you be able to help?”

“How?”

“I think you being there to show the water is safe would do a lot. Plus, if you knew how to actually swim, that would just seal the deal.”

“I… don’t.” And there are a lot of reasons for that. The main one being the Creed. All those years ago, Xi’an had made a quip about beskar bikinis and… yeah, the crew wrote a lot of terrible jokes. The second reason is that buying specific swimwear for him was never a priority. They had felt like a frivolous expense in the face of the Covert’s financial situation. As the covert’s bounty hunter and main source of income, he had limited all expenses on himself.

“But,” he continues before Luke’s expression can crumble further, “I want to help.”

“Okay that… that’s good. You’re not afraid of water, are you?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll be good.”

“I don’t think it’ll take that much to help him. We could try tomorrow? Forecast says it’ll be hot, we could go to the lake after lessons?”

Din nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

He smiles like the sun. “Great, let me show you to your room.”

Din knows where his room is, he’s been here a couple of times, but he doesn’t comment as he follows the Jedi.

-=-

As he gets ready on the next day, for the first time in maybe ever, Din thinks about what he’s going to wear, which is a futile effort. He doesn’t exactly have… clothes, just beskar and flight suits. He leaves the armor in his room save the helmet. He’s been slowly trying out not wearing his helmet in front of people, but he only lasts maybe a half hour around people and situations he knows, so the helmet stays on.

Midway through zipping up the flight suit, he pauses, considering his compression top. Wearing it wet is never fun, but he also doesn’t need to disappear in his head when he’s trying to help Grogu. He keeps it on, figuring he’ll just endeavor to stay dry above the waist. Most of his weapons he leaves behind as well, except one blaster and a knife. Weapons are still his religion, even if he’s spending most of the day at a lake.

The sounds of Luke and Grogu leaving the Temple filter past his window. It’s a normal routine; Luke and Grogu doing their lessons, leaving Din to putter about for the day, and then they rejoin for the evening. He and Luke agreed he could come for some lessons, but Grogu should learn to control his powers independently of Din being there.

Thankfully, there was enough broken in the temple to leave Din’s hands busy. By the time he’s gotten the basement lights to stop flickering, Luke has lunch packed and Grogu in a sling at his side.

“I figured we could end lessons early to go to the lake,” he explains. Din nods, trying to take in the words and not be distracted by how Luke looks in a birikad.

It’s a longer walk than Din expected to the lake. It’s less than an hour away from the school, but between maneuvering the wild forest and the sun beating down, he’s actually looking forward to going for a dip. He guesses it wouldn’t make sense to have a large body of water near little kids.

When they arrive, Din can’t help but take a moment to admire it. The lake is a dark blue color, nearing green by the rocky shore’s edge, but the sun still makes it sparkle. Low hanging branches edge over the lake, casting shadows in the water. There are some large rocks to the far side as well as other clear pieces of shore.

They settle on a dry part of the shore, putting both picnic basket and Grogu down. The child immediately toddles towards Din, one hand gripping his flight suit, looking warily out at the water. Din leans down to scoop him up.

“It’ll be okay, ad’ika,” he says, “The water can’t hurt you.”

Luke chimes in, “Your dad’s right.”

Grogu doesn’t seem convinced yet.

With lunch set away, Luke pulls off his robes and then his tunic and oh- Din hadn’t been expecting that.

The other man looks up at him, suddenly sheepish. “Sorry, I hope you don’t mind? I’m baking under all those layers.”

Din stumbles through telling him it’s fine, hoping Luke doesn’t realize his gaze is at the twin incision scars on his chest, somehow drawing his eye more than the fractal scars that span the rest of his chest. It’s not a rarity to find others like Din in this wide galaxy, but it’s an unexpected familiarity, especially to find with his son’s teacher.

Luke pauses, still holding his tunic. “Are you okay? I don’t want you getting heatstroke either.”

“I-I’m fine!” he stammers out. Maker, he’s met other trans people before, why does it feel so different with Luke?

“Well, don’t feel obligated to take anything off,” Luke says, folding his robes. He pauses to look Din up and down. “Well, maybe your shoes if you plan on going in.”

Din takes the opportunity to set Grogu back down on the rocks, forcing himself to tear his gaze away. He kneels down to fumble his way through untying his laces.

“So, what is the plan?” he asks, gaze firmly on his boots.

There’s a thump of fabric. “I figured we could start by just getting the two of us in the water, show him it’s safe. Then we’ll just… play it by ear?”

Din looks up once he has his boots off and flight suit pulled up to his knees. Luke looks… nervous? That’s not the word, but there’s something in the expression that Din recognizes as Luke picks up Grogu, speaking softly to him and pointing across the way at the lake. He wants to get this right.

Grogu is still looking at the water hesitantly, big brown eyes threatening to wobble, ears pressed tight against his head. Din walks up and strokes one of them.

“Grogu,” his son picks up his head to look at him, something Din doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of. “I’m going to go in the water, but I’ll be fine, okay? You can just watch.”

He tilts his head, considering him for a moment and when there’s no resistance, Din walks into the water.

He bites down on the curse threatening to escape when his bare feet touch water. It’s cold, despite the sun beating down. He looks behind to see Grogu staring at him wide eyed.

“I’m fine, ad’ika. See?” He waves his hands in what he hopes is reassuring.

He walks deeper into the lake, water halfway up to his calves before he hears Grogu’s whimpers. He turns, but his foot catches on a rock and suddenly the ground isn’t firm beneath his feet. The world goes sideways as he loses his balance and cold water is pouring through his helmet.

He scrambles up into a seated position, thankful beskar doesn’t rust. His chest feels tight with the compression top soaked though, which he files away to take care of later. He lifts the helmet just enough to spit out the water, to catch his breath. It’s only then does he hear the kid’s cries, Luke’s attempts to settle him.

“Grogu, Grogu, I’m okay, see?” But something tells him Grogu doesn’t care about his words right now. He sighs, soft enough for it not to be picked up by the voice modulator, and gets out of the water. He slogs through the water, happy that his son doesn’t seem to be reacting in any more dramatic way beside crying.

That is, until he reaches shore and the tide comes in with him. He sits none too gently besides Luke and his son. Grogu immediately holds his arms out to him.

Din takes him, only considering for a second before taking off his helmet. His son touches his face none too gently, grabbing and pinching with those tiny nails of his.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m safe, Grogu,” he says, softly.

He doesn’t rush Grogu, letting him touch his face, feel the breath escaping his lips, touch the wet flight suit. He doesn’t think about Luke being right there, able to see this moment between them, able to see his face.

Grogu settles in his arms, head tucked between his shoulder and chin. Din turns just enough to catch Luke’s eye

“Call it a day?” Din asks, not being able to calm the annoyed feeling in his heart.

Luke shrugs. “We still have lunch.”

They do, so they settle a couple feet farther from the shoreline, Luke offering his robes by way of a blanket. He hands out the food he made for them. Grogu still seems scared for a couple of minutes, but then he’s wolfed down his food and found an insect to follow in and amongst the trees. Din knows he should stop him from then trying to eat the creature, but he doesn’t have the heart. Neither, it seems, does Luke.

The two of them eat in silence, eyes on the still lake or Grogu running around. Din can’t help but berate himself for such a simple slip-up.

He sighs, no longer hungry, as the question that had been on his mind since yesterday bubbles over.

“Did Grogu show… Did you see…?” He doesn’t understand the Force enough to begin to ask the question, but Luke, whether because he’s a Jedi Master or just a good person, seems to understand.

“He… showed me what happened. He was unharmed, but I think he was just… scared.”

“I should have realized he would remember that.”

“You had – have a lot on your plate.”

“But he’s my kid.”

“And I’ve met plenty worse fathers than you,” Luke says with an easy smile that betrays the weight of his words. “But really, you were trying to get him to safety. If we’re going to play a game of what ifs, then I should have gotten to the cruiser faster.”

“You got to us just in time,” Din says, the hint of a question in his tone.

Luke shrugs, “I was too far away. If I was closer, I could have stopped him from experiencing all of that fear and anger.”

Din’s heart clenches, remembering those few days between losing Grogu and getting him back, those sleepless nights, unable to think of anything but the worst possible scenarios.

“Maybe we should stop asking these questions.”

“I agree.”

The conversation dies down after that.

With his heart marginally calmer, Din finds himself better able to appreciate the space around him. The sun’s rays feel like a physical thing against his face. Has he ever had a moment like this? Was this what he was missing when he never took off his helmet. Can he say he missed it when this is the first time that he’s experienced it?

Grogu walks back a little later, dirty with an insect leg poking out between his teeth. Din and Luke share a look before they start packing up.

When they get back to the temple, Din is suddenly made more aware of his wet compression top, clinging to his skin like a vice. He also suddenly doesn’t feel like wearing his flight suit, like a too-small second skin.

Luke seems to notice some of this, because when they get back to the temple, he scuffs his foot on the cobble and asks, “Do you need a change of clothes? We’re not exactly the same… build, but I should have something that fits.”

Din thinks about how long it would take to dry out his clothing, whether he’s even done the laundry yet.

He shrugs. “Sure.”

Luke nods, beckoning him forward to a set of rooms he hasn’t been to before. They’re no bigger than the rest of the temple’s rooms, they honestly might be smaller, but that might be the clutter of droid parts scattered around the floor with every flat surface available covered in objects of strange shapes and yellowing books. It’s not at all what Din expected, but that seems to sum up his entire experience with Luke.

He stands there as Luke pushes aside machinery to open a set of closet doors. He roots around in there before pulling out a couple of black garments.

“These will probably do fine! Just let me know if they don’t.”

Din takes them and thanks him, but he stays where he is, a battle warring in his throat. He’s hyperaware of his chest and while he knows the robes will probably flow well enough to hide, he still feels the need to say something. He knows he doesn’t owe Luke or anyone an explanation, be he wants to.

“I… Back at the lake, I wasn’t staring at you… I mean… I’m trans too.”

“Oh, okay,” his smile is bright enough to fill his chest. “Will you be fine while Grogu and I finish up his lessons?”

Din nods and his heart feels a little more at peace.

The robes are indeed too short, leaving his wrists and ankles completely exposed. He’s not used to the extra layers, how it flows behind him, but the layers help hide his chest, so he’s able to get through the rest of the day.

Any initial discomfort is worth seeing Luke’s face when he comes back in from afternoon lessons. He tries to hide it, but Din spots how he pauses in the doorway, looking straight at Din as he cleans his armor. It only lasts a second before Luke is distracted by Grogu again, so Din files it away for later and goes back to rubbing out the lake smell from his helmet.

-=-

It’s the day before he has to go, but Din feels more restless than normal. Every day since they went to the lake, it’s rained, a downpour that soaked them to the bone if they had to leave the temple for anything.

Din turns to watch Luke and Grogu out the window, meditating in the rain, twin domed force shields above their heads to stay dry. His HUD lights the two of them up in bright reds and yellows as compared to the calm blue of everything else.

He turns back to the lamp he’s been trying to fix for the past hour. He just can’t stop thinking about that day on Trask, how he hadn’t seen the obvious trap, how he’d been unable to rescue his son, how his son still remembers that.

He has to make it right.

When the two come back inside to start their lessons, Din unceremoniously takes Luke by the elbow and brings him into the kitchen. Starts thank Luke, he doesn’t question the sudden detour and just stands there, waiting for Din to put his thoughts into words.

“Can… I borrow Grogu?”

Luke gives him a look. “Of course? He still has time between lessons so, yes?”

“No, I-” Din sighs, “I need both of you… for something.”

Luke tilts his head to the side and Din explains, haltingly, not knowing if this is the right course of action, but it feels necessary. Luke just smiles.

“I think it’s a great idea, and I’d be honored to help.”

They wait until after dinner, when they’ve cleaned up. Grogu just looks at them as the tree of then sit on the couch in the common area. Din’s heart has been jackrabbiting since he and Luke agreed to this, most of his afternoon taken up by what exactly he was going to say, what would happen if it went poorly.

He takes off his helmet, setting it on a side table. Grogu looks up at the movement and is already reaching for him. He can’t help the smile as he lifts him up. He glances over to Luke, who gives him an encouraging nod.

“Grogu?”

He looks into his eyes at that and Din feels his heart break a little more.

“I… I don’t want you to feel bad for being afraid of water. It’s understandable considering… everything. Luke and I will help you be less afraid if… if you want. I should never have put you in danger like that on Trask. I will always prioritize your safety. Ni ceta. Can you forgive me?”

Grogu stares at him with those big brown eyes before reaching for his face. Luke’s ungloved hand comes up and touches his son on the back.

Luke opens his eyes and gives him a smile.

“You were already forgiven.”

Din pulls his son in for a tight hug. If tears form at the corner of his eyes as he thanks Luke for his help, Luke doesn’t say anything.

-=-

The next day was supposed to be Din’s last day, but early that morning, when he wakes up and sees the rain has stopped, he calls Bo-Katan. What he wants to say is that he can come here to collect the damn darksaber because there’s nothing more he wants to do than stay here. He doesn’t say that, but he does tell her he’s staying a few days more. He hangs up on her before she can reach a fever pitch.

At breakfast, he just tells Luke he can stay longer. Then he recommends they try going to the lake again.

The walk to the lake isn’t any more tense, but he can feel Grogu curl up tighter against his chest as trees give way to the lake. The lake is bigger than last time, much of the coast now disappeared under the water.

“Why don’t you go in this time?” Din offers.

Luke smirks at him, “Now are you afraid of water, Mando?”

On instinct, forgetting he’s at a bright lakeside and thinking he’s in the sewers of Nevarro, he punches Luke’s shoulder like he would’ve Paz’s. Luke goes careening to the side, only barely keeping himself on two feet. His expression is shocked and there’s an apology on Din’s tongue until Luke bursts out laughing.

“Maker, if you wanted me in the water that badly, you only had to ask!” Luke says, punching Din back. The flight suit lessens the blow, but Din still feels as knocked over as Luke was.

“S-Sorry,” he manages to get out.

Luke waves him off, still smiling. “If I couldn’t take a punch like that, I’d never survive being Han’s friend. You just surprised me.”

He removes his robes again and Din is thankful he thinks to avert his gaze beforehand.

Luke walks in, hissing at the chill. He only goes up to his ankles, before kneeling down, black pants growing darker by the second as water laps around him.

“See, Grogu? The water’s fine.” Luke splashes his hands gently in the water, creating little ripples.

Din looks down at Grogu, still in his arms. His head is ducked into Din’s shoulder.

Din kneels down so they’re more at eye level.

“Grogu? Look, what’s Master Luke doing?”

The child turns and watches. Luke has the same kind smile on his face the whole time. Grogu watches, ears twitching the whole time.

And then a different expression comes over Luke’s face. He shifts his position, now sitting with legs crossed, his hands held out above the water and eyes closed. Din is just about to ask what he’s doing when the water around him moves and rises.

Individual balls of water lift into the air, surrounding Luke. A couple are as big as Grogu’s head, some are as small as a pebble, a multitude of sizes. Sunlight reflects off their surface so that it looks like crystals. Then they move, gently circling around Luke.

Luke cracks open an eye before smiling. “See, Grogu? Water can be scary, but it can also be beautiful.”

Din can’t get his mouth to work, still trying to put these two images together, of a man with a bright laugh and a decent punch, and this ethereal wonder.

He manages to break his gaze and look at Grogu, who for the first time this whole visit, looks at the lake with awe instead of fear.

-=-

The next time Din is able to make it to Yavin IV, after a long quest to retake a minor city in Mandalore, he’s met with smiling faces at the end of the ramp.

“C’mon!” Luke says with no preamble. “We have something to show you!”

It’s not the first time Luke has led with that. Grogu likes showing his progress and Din is the best audience, being impressed with whatever Grogu has to show.

Instead of the Temple or the usual outside training ground, Luke heads straight for the lake. As he follows, Din can’t help but spot how there’s more of a path worn in through the grass and plants. He can even see straight to the dirt in some areas.

The lake looks the same as ever, clear water, low hanging trees, a rocky coast.

Luke doesn’t bother shucking off his robes, just walks in the water with Grogu still in his arms and kneels down. Luke lowers Grogu down into the water and Din is glad his helmet doesn’t pick up his gasp when Grogu doesn’t fuss. He just stands there, waist deep, looking up to his teacher.

“C’mon, Grogu,” Luke says, smiling, “like we practiced.”

Grogu nods before taking a deep breath and blowing out air before slowing lowering his head into the water. Small bubbles escape the water where his mouth is. It feels like Din’s heart has grown in his chest.

“Good job, Grogu!” Luke exclaims as Grogu stands up straight.

Din rips off his boots before joining the two in the water. Luke picks Grogu back up so he’s not overwhelmed by the waves Din makes. He settles in beside Luke, sides brushing as he takes a knee.

“That was really good, kid!” Din exclaims, picking up his son and holding him tight.

Grogu burbles happily. Luke catches Din’s eye and he can’t help but smile more.

-=-

Trips to the lake become a regular occurrence when Din visits. Yavin IV is temperate, so if the sky is clear and the day warm, the three head out to the edge of the lake. Grogu is happy to chase frogs near the edge, less scared of falling in now, especially with more lessons in blowing bubbles and painstaking lessons in floating.

Din has since picked up swimwear of his own, after he couldn’t get the lake smell out of one of his flight suits. It’s a tank top that still functions as a compression top and board shorts. He still brings his helmet with him, but he finds himself wearing it less and less by the lake, especially when he gets in the water.

It’s… nice. It’s one of the nicest things Din has had in a while. It’s a sanctuary from the stresses and pain of life in the galaxy, something for just the three of them, even if three sometimes becomes four when Artoo gets bored, and sometimes four becomes seven or eight when Luke’s friends make supply runs and then linger after. Even still, Din thinks of that spot as “theirs;” him, Luke, and Grogu.

The thought frightens him sometimes.

What also frightens him his how his heart rate continues to skyrocket when Luke takes off his robes to bask in the sun, this time not because of that twinge of familiarity at seeing the incision scars. His heart also can’t calm down on the day when Luke explains how he feels more attune to the Force when he feels the sun beat down on his bare skin, how it almost feels like home.

Din doesn’t know how to respond, especially when he realizes in some way, he understands, so he can only nod.

-=-

Late one day, when Din is underneath his ship, tightening up a part that got loose the last time he jumped through hyperspace, he hears the familiar pat of feet against the launchpad.

“I was out by the lake late at night,” Luke says.

Din grunts in response.

“It was really beautiful. Felt like there were thousands of lightning bugs out there.”

“I bet it was.”

“I’d like to show it to you… tonight… alone.”

That gets Din to roll out from under the Crest.

“What about Grogu?”

“The Temple has a state-of-the-art security system and Artoo can keep watch.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Tonight.”

“Yeah, once it gets dark enough.”

And suddenly anticipation fills Din’s stomach for the rest of the evening. He doesn’t know what “dark enough” means, the sun’s barely set by the time he’s done with the Crest and he can see two lighting bugs blinking by the Temple Garden. Luke waits until after dinner and after Grogu is fast asleep to walk Din out, gloved hand in gloved hand, even though they both know the way there. Neither of them makes a move to disentangle themselves.

The lake is both gorgeous and terrifying at night. There are just as many lightning bugs as Luke promised, lighting up the area. Even still, the water is as dark as space, and looks just as infinite.

Din is thankful he kept his helmet on. He’s glad Luke doesn’t comment on it. In fact, Luke doesn’t seem to mind at all.

They only go up to their knees in the dark water, looking out at the dancing light show and just talking. Their hands keep finding each other, after taking off their shoes, after releasing a lighting bug that’s landed on one of them, after righting oneself after nearly slipping.

Din tries not to think about how perfect this feels.

-=-

It’s a couple of days later that they are able to go back to the lake. It’s another washout, but none of them particularly mind. Din finds himself bumping into Luke more and more, the physical contact a welcome novelty.

Neither of them talks about the night at the lake. They don’t have to.

Once the rain stops, they wait a couple of days for the waterline to recede before going back to the lake.

And he has to assume it was because of being cooped up in the temple for a couple of days that causes Luke to ask him, “Have you used some of those tools for… non-bounty hunting purposes?”

Din tilts his head in Luke’s direction and takes longer than necessary to respond. He knows its rude to watch Luke squirm under his gaze, but after a question like that, he has to.

“What do you mean?”

“I just… see that tree branch?”

Din looks in the direction where Luke is pointing and spots a tree hanging over the lake. He nods.

“I bet you could use your ripcord and swing into the lake.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Seems fun, I assume kids who grew up around water would do that. Seems like the kind of thing.”

It does, like when he and the other foundlings would climb the pipes in Nevarro before an adult found them out.

“I don’t want to be a bad influence.”

Luke gives him a look. “Grogu has seen you fly out of the mouth of a greater krayt dragon, which I still need more details on.”

Din snorts, before considering it. All of these days by the lake means he actually is a somewhat passable swimmer. He can’t swim fast, but he can hold his breath and maneuver pretty well.

Plus, the more he thinks about it, the more it does sound like fun.

“Fine.”

“What?”

“I’ll do it.”

“I mean… don’t feel pressured.”

“Nope, I have to now.”

Luke looks at him before cracking into a smile. Din just shakes his head as he divests himself of unnecessary gear. He takes only the gauntlet that contains his ripcord, leaving his helmet and everything else safely on the coast before walking in the direction of the tree.

He climbs through the thrush, glancing over to make sure Luke is still looking at him. Why does he care that Luke’s looking at him?

He has to circle back to find the tree Luke had spotted. He steps around roots poking out through the soil and into a flat rock. The tree itself bends over him, a couple of lower branches nearly skimming the water. He jumps up and grabs into the tree, making sure it can hold his weight and won’t snap when he’s airborne.

It feels solid enough, but he pulls on a few branches before spotting what looks to be the best for the job. He lets out the ripcord, tugging on the branch before disengaging the chord from the spinning mechanism.

He glances to the shore, where Luke and Grogu are watching him. Din shakes his head, why does he feel so nervous for something like this? Then he gives it a test swing, gripping the rope and running to the edge of the stone before jumping off.

He doesn’t let go just let, more focused on making sure the branch doesn’t snap as he swings back and forth. He lands back on the rock, firm ground beneath him.

He looks at the window of clear blue surrounded by leaves and trees. Something flies through his heart like hope, like joy, and he doesn’t think anymore. He grabs the rope, runs forward, swings out and lets go.

A whoop comes unbidden from his chest and soon he’s flying, but unlike those precious moments where he had the jetpack, he can feel the wind flow around all of him. He crests in the air and the weightless feeling lingers for a moment longer before he’s being pulled back down to the lake and is suddenly plunged into cold.

He takes a moment just to let the cold settle over him before searching out the light of the sun and kicking off a rock to shoot upward toward the surface.

He breeches the surface to twinned cheers and rapid beeping. He shakes the water from his eyes, peeling curling hair out of his eyes to see Luke cheering, with Grogu clapping on top of Artoo’s head. He waves, the grin on his face threatening to break.

Maker, he wants to do that again.

But with the buzzing on insects, the gentle lapping of the water around him, and the sun beating down above him, he can’t help but roll onto his back and float, his eyes sliding shut as the sun lands on him with warm pressure.

It only feels like a few seconds have passed when a loud and clear voice rings out tough the clearing.

“Look out below!”

Din opens his eyes and sees Luke, mid arc. He’s stripped off to his basics and he is soaring, arms spread wide, whooping and hollering as he flies.

He crashes into the water mere feet from Din, the waves he creates overturning Din. He tumbles briefly in the water before he’s able to resurface, coughing out a small mouthful of water.

Luke is beside him, golden hair clinging to his forehead, chest glistening, and absolutely beaming.

“Having fun?” Din asks, voice rough from the water swallowed.

“We have to do that again.”

“Where’s Grogu?”

“On the shore, being watched by Artoo.”

Din looks and sure enough, Grogu has attached himself to one of the droid’s legs.

“Race you back?” Luke asks, already turning in the direction of the rock.

“Wait!”

Luke turns back, an eyebrow raised.

Din pushes himself to close the small distance between them. “Can I kiss you?”

Luke smiles. “Yes.”

Din could count on one hand the number of kisses he’s had, and he’s definitely never been kissed while treading water. Their legs bump against each other and Luke has to steady himself on Din’s shoulders. Both of them taste of lake water and it’s hard to get a grip on Luke’s torso, but when Din lets himself forget about how they’re probably sinking a little, and just enjoy the press of their bodies, the glide of their lips, it’s everything he didn’t know he needed.

#dinluke #skydalorian #din x luke #luke/din #luke x din #i know it doesnt matter when a fic is posted #but this was like the first fic i had planned for dinluke week that had me super excited #especially when i made it t4t like i had that revalation and immediately wrote 2k lol #this is also the fic that made me want to write even more trans stuff for dinluke week #more trans dinluke yall its what we deserve #also this is one of those fics where i just had to stop looking at it and post bc just aaaaaaa #also now im taking a din/luke writing break bc 4 fics in a week is INTENSE lmao #and i dont want burnout #my fanfic #kappa writes #the mandalorian #star wars #sw

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trashquisitor-shirozora · 3 years ago

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playlists I make that aren’t fic-specific are me hyperfixating in unhinged ways a la dumbfuck fusion/crossover AUs and “how did kingdom hearts even happen????”

anyway I need to ramble about my current dumb hyperfixation playlist because all of the songs work somehow and also my brain is such a pressure cooker right now and I need to vent something. might as well be a stupid post about songs I listen to.

thots about a lot of stuff: just some thoughts about seafarers and starfarers and superheroes

Dusk Till Dawn :: ZAYN, Sia - Immaculate vibes. I wanted some night chill playlists to balance my retro/synthwave hyperfixation and this one hits the sweet spot. I can make it work for my M-rated dinluke fic and I can make it work for blackbonnet just you wait.

Automatic Call :: NINA, LAU - Retro/synthwave is life. More dinluke and blackbonnet vibes, and I am taking no questions at this time.

Ship To Wreck :: Florence + The Machine - I was using this for Mass Effect/mshenko stuff but *insert fuck-ugly laughter here* Actually Florence has immaculate OFMD/blackbonnet songs YOU KNOW I’M RIGHT.

What The Water Gave Me :: Florence + The Machine - I am very much feeling this Ed/Edward/Blackbeard/the Kraken song. Like if I were to write an OFMD fic (which I’m not, I swear) I would try to steal a lyric from this song to use as the title first.

The Chain :: Fleetwood Mac - David Jenkins & Co. were insane for using this song the way they did. I already thought James Gunn & Co. were fucking nuts when they used it in GOTG Vol. 2. Fleetwood Mac is a definitive part of my childhood because my parents grew up on them and I just... I love everything about this song so fucking much.

All The Stars :: Kendrick Lamar, SZA - First of all, one of the best CBMs of all time (Into the Spider-verse is still at the top of my list though). It gives galaxy brain vibes. Makes you wanna go off like an active volcano.

Never Let Me Go :: Florence + The Machine - someone said this was an OFMD/blackbonnet song and they’re right. It’s so good?????? It’s so fucking good what the fuck.

The End Of The World :: Skeeter Davis - I love The Eternals, flaws and fuckups and all. What a big-brained movie hampered by it being just 1 movie. Wish Chloe had the space, time, budget, whatnot to really dig into the MCU Gets Weird period. Also this is a nice palette cleanser of a song because every other song is just so fucking intense y’know???

Dangerous Dreams :: LeBrock - this is my dinluke/DinDjarin/The Mandalorian song. This is the song. This is the song to end all songs. Sometimes I wanna kick down doors and fuck shit up, and sometimes I just wanna cry because of all these feelings.

Spirit In The Sky :: Norman Greenbaum - Skeeter Davis’s song needed a companion, if that makes sense. Also I decided to revisit Thor Ragnarok after seeing OFMD for like the third time and I’ve been having thoughts about Star Trek sitting between Star Wars and OFMD in terms of space, the sea, and nautical terms? And then I thought about the worst AU I ever wrote in which the GOTG play a big role and that’s how this song ended up on the list. It makes sense. It all makes sense.

Counting Stars:: OneRepublic - I’ve been listening to this song since 2013 and I love it a stupid amount because it works every-fucking-where. I don’t need to find the right blorbo for this song because THEY ALL WORK this song fits ALL OF THEM.

Anyway that’s my stupid hyperfixation playlist of the moment. Man, finally feeling slightly less feral. What a great feeling. Time to

#shirozora listens to music #and has to ramble about it SOMEWHERE #i keep forgetting that I should add that one track from the Amelie OST #i found it on a jimbones fanmix and i think it'll fit nicely with blackbonnet too #meanwhile I got an entire stash of synthwave tracks for dinluke purposes #i don't have anything good for shang-chi but that's mostly because i love the OST a lot #i'm just... .listing all the shit I'm watching and rewatching to keep my brain going while we wait for Mando S3 #which I'm kinda dreading because of how TBOBF happened #dunno if I'll ever rewatch TBOBF in its entirety again #YES I'M STILL MAD ABOUT HOW THAT SHOW FUCKED IT ALL UP #Y'ALL HAD A GREAT IDEA AND THEN Y'ALL BLEW IT

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valhallanrose · 4 years ago

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What the Water Gave Me

In which Astoria unleashes something they cannot put back.

Astoria is nonbinary, and uses she/they pronouns interchangeably.

3.2k words. CW for discussions of blood. Also spiders. Fuck those.

Fic Title: What the Water Gave Me by Florence + The Machine

Lashes fluttering and a groan passing her lips, Astoria stirred in a darkened space, light beaming in from overhead and passing through the dust that they had kicked up from their fall. It swirled lazily above their head, settling on their clothes and making them sneeze the longer they laid there.

Where were they…?

As they carefully shifted each limb, assessing and determining they hadn’t broken anything - though their ass had certainly taken a hell of a hit when they fell, since their pack cushioned the rest of the blow. They began to work their way through the last things they remembered before they found themselves very much not on the surface they had started the day on -

Ah, right.

Astoria had been traveling with their grandmother into the Bulan mountain range with a few other archaeologists, and they decided to split up to grid out the areas of interest that they would spend the next few weeks investigating. And despite being the youngest of the group at a mere sixteen, they’d insisted they could map out a portion of the valley, given permission hesitantly by Granny with many, many promises that they would be careful and not stray past where they’d been told to go.

And then they fell directly into a hole within the first ten minutes, as well as knocking themself out for a little while as the cherry on top.

Lovely.

Sighing heavily, Astoria got to their feet, assessing the broken wood around them and turning it over in their hands with a critical eye. Granny Myrna had always taught them to be observant, after all, and the glasses weren’t just for show.

“So this was probably...a wooden door or panel of some kind, and the grass grew over it over time...no wonder. Shit’s so rotted I doubt it would hold a sparrow.” They mused, dusting their shirt off with one hand in hopes of cleaning off a corner large enough to wipe off the lenses of their glasses. “But why...?”

They blinked a few times, shielding their eyes with one hand to try and adjust to the darkness, before audibly gasping and taking a few steps out of the light.

A tunnel, lined with stone to create a long-standing hallway that led further into the darkness. It smelled...musty, and damp, and there was definitely some sort of fungus growing on the walls, but to Astoria, it might as well have been bricked with solid gold. And as much as they wanted to explore now, the right thing to do was to wait, because she didn’t have half the equipment she needed to go on a deep survey of the area that she should have - so with a resigned sigh, they turned around to assess the other side of the space.

A ladder was secured to the wall, and Astoria took a few steps closer, placing one foot on the lower rung in hopes that maybe it had been spared the effects of time -

Nope.

As soon as they placed one foot on the rung of the ladder and lifted themself up to climb to the next, the first rung crackled and snapped under her weight, making her yelp as she fell the short distance back down to the ground.

Slowly, Astoria groaned, letting their head fall back and assessing the fact that the opening they’d fallen through was still a good three feet out of reach - meaning they were very much stuck in that hole.

With a resigned sigh, Astoria kicked aside a few pieces of broken wood and sat themself firmly in the patch of light they had in hopes that it would make her easier to find. It might take a while, but...well, they were patient, and they’d been smart enough to at least pack a book into their satchel. So, they did just that, pulling open the covers and burying her nose between the pages as she began to wait.

And wait...

And wait.

The sun passed overhead and cast shadows down into Astoria’s patch of light, moving across the sky as she let herself get lost in stories of kings and queens and knights of the round table until she couldn’t read the lines on each page no matter how hard she squinted.

They tipped their head back and startled slightly at the realization that the sky was no longer clear blue, but painted with rosy hues and streaks of violet, meaning the sun was already dipping well below the horizon. And...they were still stuck, in this hole, with no way out.

Already they could feel their chest beginning to tighten as they quickly tucked their book away and got to their feet.

They hadn’t heard anyone calling, nor had anyone actually looked into the pit...and it was getting dark, which usually was the time everyone settled in to camp. But if they hadn’t come for her...maybe something had happened to them, too.

No. No, she couldn’t panic, couldn’t let her nerves get the best of her. If waiting wasn’t working, she’d just have to find her own way out. Rationally, if this were some kind of building or structure, it was more than likely that there would have been more than one entry or exit point. The point where she fell in was one, so...perhaps there was another way out somewhere else. And if the structure was too small, maybe she’d find something to at least boost her out of this damn hole.

They reached for their satchel, unhooking the small oil lantern that swung from the side and digging around for the matches they’d buried beneath god knows what in said bag. The key turned once, twice...and then the lantern sparked to life, illuminating a small space around Astoria with a comforting amber glow.

They raised the lantern higher, the light dancing on the lenses of her glasses for a moment before they looked beyond the flame.

In the daylight, the tunnel had seemed ripe for exploration, its shadows beckoning to Astoria’s sense of curiosity and practically begging her to venture deeper. But now, when the light was dying overhead...something settled heavily in their cut, making them wonder if they were truly making the right decision.

But they had to try. If nothing else, they had to try.

Squaring their shoulders and taking a deep breath, Astoria nodded to themself, blowing a few strands of hair out of their eyes as they took the first step forward.

“Right. Here we go.”

* * * * *

The complex was certainly bigger than they’d accounted for.

At the first turn, they’d dug into their back for a charcoal pencil, making a small mark on the stone wall to indicate which way they’d come. One turn led to another, then to another, long halls melting into winding staircases they took with great care to make sure they didn’t eat rocks on the way up. But no matter how far they went, it seemed that they found more to explore, and not necessarily the exit they wanted. They’d thought continuing up would mean more chances of finding one, but...it seemed luck was not with them.

They sighed heavily as they marked another corner, considering now that the smart thing to do would be to turn back and go back to where they started to keep from getting lost, but...the idea of giving up also left something bitter in Astoria’s mouth.

One more turn, they decided, and then they’d make their way back. If they didn’t find an exit then, that’d be the end of their exploration for the night. They needed rest, and tomorrow would be another day.

Astoria turned left, the only sounds to accompany her being the quiet crackling of the wick and the heels of her boots thumping on stone as she made her way down another long hallway. She came to another intersection a few moments later, huffing to herself as she realized that she was getting nowhere, and was about to turn on her heel and walk back when a crosswind came whirling down the hall behind her.

Astoria froze mid-stride, head whipping back to listen and hair flying away from her face as she stepped into the crosswind’s path.

Wind...underground. Which meant there was an opening somewhere nearby, which probably was what let the wind in and funneled it down the hallway she now stood in. Hope rising in their throat, they quickly set off down the hall, walking into the wind before breaking into a full sprint to find the source of the wind.

The hall seemed endless in those few moments but eventually, it dumped Astoria into what she thought for a moment was a cavern, but the longer she looked...she realized it was a sort of rotunda. Or chamber, perhaps? It was wide, with a domed ceiling, the whole room seemingly centered around an oculus carved into the ceiling and angled to allow ample visibility to see the moon. The room was...strange, certainly, but she wasn’t too focused on the shape.

As she stepped inside, something gleamed under the light of her lantern, making her step closer to the wall and raise the light closer with a critical eye - only to nearly drop her lantern at the same rate as her jaw.

Gold leaf, somehow spared the effects of time, painstakingly laid over armor of warriors from ages past. Their weapons were raised, and the movement of Astoria’s light revealed they were frozen in conflict with enemies in silver-plated armor to their gold and swords to their spears. Slowly, they began to walk the rotunda’s upper platform, guiding their light across its surface to take in the scenes before them.

They passed mosaics of bloody battlefields, burning villages, bodies aflame or decrepit with illness unknown - passed images of priests and priestesses mid-prayer to animal-headed figures that seemed to give no mercy, and then…

Astoria stopped at one of the murals, raising their lantern higher to try and take it all in even as it stretched far above their head.

Before, the animal headed figures had been those of foxes and owls, serpents and stags, but...this one was a goat. A dual set of obsidian horns rose up from its white-furred head, eyes crimson and face marked with black - for some reason, despite its unfamiliarity, it sent a chill down Astoria’s spine.

They guided the lantern down, revealing a black stole and a crimson stained throne where the goat-headed figure sat in profile, gazing down upon a person kneeling prone before them. Idly Astoria recognized the similar headdress to those of the priests and priestesses in an earlier panel, but the distinctive features were rubbed away, the only victim to time that they’d found thus far. Astoria moved the lantern again, only to pause when the light cast a long shadow over part of the mural they stood before.

Astoria moved the lantern back, watching the shadow move until their eyes fell upon the skull embedded in the wall, placed in the distorted figure’s raised hands in offering to the goat-headed one. They let out a noise of contemplation as their fingers brushed over the edges of the skull, feeling where the back portion of the skull had been embedded into the wall -

Only to scream loudly and nearly throw her lantern down as a spider crawled from the bleached eye socket and crawled over her fingertips when they passed down the bridge of the skull’s nose.

“Bloody spiders!” They yelped, swiping their hands over their arms, their legs, every inch of their body that they could reach. “Useful you might be, but you eight-legged bastards can fuck right back off to the hell you came from, crawling all over like that.”

Skulls were familiar. She’d been in plenty of burial mounds and crypts by then, knew the value of human bones for what insight they could provide to the scholar studying civilizations long since turned to dust. Bugs and similar creatures were also familiar and a topic of interest, but that didn’t mean she was perfectly okay with them popping out of nowhere and scaring the living daylights out of her.

They huffed, bangs flying up out of their face as they tried to settle themself, then gasped as they looked down toward the lantern at their feet.

“Oh, no, no no no - god damn it.” She muttered, using a booted foot to nudge the glass about as she assessed the damages and winced as the fragments crunched under the soles of her boots. It was completely shattered, unsalvageable by all accounts, which meant...which meant she had no light to lead her back the way she came.

The last embers flickered and died on the wick as it laid against the stone, and Astoria found herself plunged into near complete darkness.

Though full and bright, the moon did not cast enough light from where it shone through the oculus for them to truly understand where they were. They carefully reached for the stairs that would lead them down into the ‘pit’ they’d seen before but not observed, thinking perhaps they could find something wood to ignite - their preservationist heart cried at the idea of destroying a possible artifact, but this was a matter of survival - something somewhat forgivable in their own perspective, but that didn’t mean they had to be happy about it.

Feeling their way down the steps and around the ledges, they searched for something, anything made of wood, growing more and more frustrated as they found only clay and stone and tile - only to jump and yelp when they took another step down and liquid splashed up their calves and soaked into their boots.

Once she got over the surprise, Astoria let out a laugh, plunging her hands into the water beneath her feet and letting it flow between her fingers in the dark. She thought that the oculus must have allowed for the rainfall to gather, and the water had no smell, meaning it probably wasn’t stagnant or otherwise gross...and for a moment, everything seemed like it would be alright.

Astoria didn’t notice the way the room seemed to shift as she plunged her hands in again, hundreds of stone eyes boring into the back of her neck as her sleeves became drenched and her boots finally flooded with the weight of the water she now stood in. A smile pulling up the corners of her lips, she raised cupped hands to her lips and drank deeply from the water in her palms -

She wasn’t sure why it took her a few moments to process, in hindsight, but she knew from the moment the water passed her lips that something was very wrong.

It was the copper tang, first, quickly overtaking Astoria’s senses to fill their mouth with the taste of hot iron rather than the cool water they’d been expecting. They choked, clasping hands over their mouth to try and keep the quickly rising bile down, but everything burned. Their eyes filled with tears as they tried to stumble out of the pool, collapsing on the edge as searing pain in their chest sapped them of strength.

They fought for consciousness for what felt like hours, blinking up at the moon through a haze of tears, realizing that something in the water must have been toxic and they’d been so stupid as to drink without thinking - and now they were fairly certain they were going to die.

You are so much younger than those who came before you.

Astoria tried to lift their head, but an unseen hand smoothed across their hair, coaxing them into relaxing again as their hand found the person’s and squeezed tightly in desperation to hold onto something, anything that might help keep them grounded as it felt like fire licked across every inch of their skin.

“Help me.” They breathed, tears trickling down their cheeks. “Please...please, help me.”

The pain will ease soon, little one. It always does. But I cannot help you - the only way out of this is through it now.

Astoria was about to try and ask what they meant before the heat intensified, searing behind her eyes and making their lungs feel as if they were melting in their chest. The scream that passed their lips as their back arched up off the stone to a near breaking point was so shrill they could hardly hear it in their own ears, thrashing violently but unable to move as it felt as if two hands pressed down with bruising force on the slopes of their shoulders -

And then there was nothing, only the pitch-black nothingness of merciful unconsciousness that came to claim them as they lay in the pool.

* * * * *

When Astoria awoke again, their eyes met the clear blue sky for a few moments before the tear-streaked face of Myrna leaned into their view and pulled them heartily into a near crushing embrace.

“Oh, thank the gods.” Myrna breathed, her fingers smoothing over Astoria’s tousled hair. “You’re alright, my darling, you’re alright. You’re safe now.”

“Who…?” Astoria managed, but Myrna shook her head, pulling back to look them in the eye and give their shoulders a squeeze.

“Not now. Rest. We’ll talk about it later, I promise, but...I’m sure you’ve had a very, very long few days.”

Myrna pulled Astoria in again, whispering prayers in their native tongue to all who might listen, but their eyes had fallen to their lap - to the ruddy brown stains on their clothes and dried blood caked into the folds of fabric, the creases of their hands, even the ends of their hair that they could see out of the corners of their eyes. They turned their head, spotting the bruises peeking out from under the collar of their shirt, realizing with a tremor of terror that the crushing feeling hadn’t been their imagination.

And granny said a few days...days? How could she not remember a single thing after what happened at the pool, not remember how she’d found her way back out or how the others had found her?

A familiar voice, sweet as honey and deep as a river all at once, rose up from the depths of her mind as if in answer to a question she was too afraid to voice.

It would have done our partnership no good if you were to perish in the labyrinth. And how I have longed to breathe the mountain air again…

The voice chuckled, stroking a loving hand down her mind as if to ease her into slumber. Her lashes fluttered, and Astoria felt themself fighting sleep they did not want.

It has been...so long since another has taken the boon. In time, I will answer your questions, but for now...all you need know is that you may call me Agrippa.

And as Astoria unwillingly fell into slumber again, one thought prevailed on their mind, even when the world fell away and dreams rose up to catch them -

What had they done?

#astoria fenharrow #my writing #blood cw

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codenamewitcher · 5 years ago

Text

Mistress of Death Part Two || Geralt of Rivia

Title: Holy Water Cannot Help You Now

Pairing: Geralt x assassin!reader / Geralt x half-elf!reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Smut (18+)

Song: Seven Devils - Florence & the Machine / Worst Behavior - ALMA, Tove Lo

— ‡ —

The night that I'd met Geralt and the bard Jaskier was a strange one. I'd refused to let them run me off from camp. Yes, they'd saved my life, but I had still sat up camp there before them, and Geralt had agreed. It was that decision that caused Jaskier's face to turn so red it had almost looked like it was going to start steaming. I'd also learned that the wolf pack I'd killed was what Geralt was hired to hunt and kill, I'd told the witcher that I wasn't going to claim the money, that instead he could.

It was before dawn when I started preparing to leave. Geralt had woken up when I'd started packing, first it was silent between the two of us, him just watching me, until he decided to finally speak.

"You could've easily killed all of those wolves with chaos." I knew that his statement had a hidden question behind it, 'why didn't you'?

"I was itching for a fight." I hooked some of my bags onto Sonja's saddle. Wanting to fight was only half of the truth and the witcher knew it. When I turned around to face him again, he was leaning up against a tree, arms crossed in front of his chest, and an eyebrow raised as if saying 'that's a fucking lie'.

"You have no idea on what it's like living under Ramerd Gamward's thumb." I grabbed the last of my bags, the zhefar and arrows, and hooked them to the saddle. I climbed onto Sonja, ready to leave but I paused before I did and turned to the witcher.

"Thank you for saving me."

Geralt grunted in response, but there was something that seemed to glow in his amber eyes. I couldn't put my finger on it but when I reached the road, I knew some type of bond was formed between the two of us that left me wishing to see the witcher again.

It had been four months since I'd met the duo. I hated were I was currently staying, I hated being this close to Vengerberg.

Even though it got drilled into my head at a young age by Ramerd Gamward — who ironically was an elf himself — that neither elves nor humans would want me, I'd pick the elves over humans any day. I understood elves distrust and distaste for humans. It was a human that killed my mother. It was humans that slaughtered hundreds and hundreds of elves.

Even though it was Guleta, it was still too close to Vengerberg, it made my skin crawl and body kick into high alert mode. While I normally did this, I made sure there was no removing my cloak or its hood while I was here, but unlike normal I made sure no one could even see my face. I made sure that I was nothing but a shadow because if one of these humans found out I had elf blood in me, they'd want my head. My identity wasn't the only thing the cloak was covering, it was also hiding the elven bow and arrows, eleven sword, and multiple blades that were strapped to my body.

I found an inn in the outskirts of Guleta, it was shitty but necessary because no one would question whether or not they should let me stay. I tied Sonja to a hitching rail, already smelling the stale ale from inside, I grabbed a bag of ducat coins, and walked in. The smell hit me in the face when I walked in, but I held my composer. The inn was filled with drunken men and some wenches were spotted in some of those men's laps, the floor was sticky with spilled ale, I fought to not make a face in disgust. I walked up to the bar and asked for an innkeeper and it wasn't long after a round man with a face redder than his hair came up to me - he drank too much.

"What do you want?" He placed a large hand on the bar, leaning into it.

"I need a room for two nights and no one bothering me." I toss two golden ducats onto the counter; it was more than enough but I was in no mood to haggle with the man. The coins were gone the moment they hit the counter and a key in its place.

"Upstairs, second to the last room on the right." I grabbed the key and turned to leave when I heard a certain bard singing. I turned my head to his direction and find Jaskier drunkenly singing one of his stories about the white haired Witcher he followed around.

I turned back to the doors and walk out to see if the stable across the street would keep Sonja. I untie her and lead her over to the stables, stable boy sat outside of it playing cards by himself.

"How can I help you?" The boy asked looking up from his game when I stopped in front of him. The boy was nothing but skin and bones.

"Is there a stall available?"

"Yes, a silver ducat for a night."

"I need one for two nights," I hand him two golden coins. "Keep the rest for yourself."

His eyes widen in shock, "Thank- Thank you. Right this way." He got up and lead me to the stalls and stopped at an empty one towards the middle. "Is this one good?"

"Yes."

"I'll leave you to it then." He walked back outside, leaving me alone. I lead Sonja into the stable and started taking my bag, her saddle, and lead off. I pick up my bag once I got everything off her and dug into the bag for an apple. Once I find it, I hold it out for her, and she took it from my hand. Before she leaned down to eat, I stopped her and held her head up, so she'd look me into the eye.

"Behave."

She responded by giving me a huff of air, I shook my head and patted hers. I slung my bag onto my shoulder and left, making sure the gate was latched when I shut it. I looked up into the stall across from Sonja's to find the witcher's mare occupying it. Great.

I walk back into the inn and this time I spotted a head of white hair sitting in a dark, back corner while the bard sang one of his tones nearby. I quickly went up the stairs and found my room, I unlocked the door, and wasn't surprised to find nothing but a poor excuse for a bed that sat in the middle of the room and a little desk was off to the side.

I sat my bag on the desk and untied my cloak. I threw it on the desk and unstrapped my bow and arrows, I sat both on the side of the bed, I laid down on the floor, held my breath, and scooted underneath it. I made quick on strapping the bow towards the edge of the head of the frame, arrows right beside the bow, and got out and up once I felt like they weren't going to fall. I frowned as I dust my back off. I grabbed my cloak and slipped it on, sinking back into the shadows yet again. I picked up my keys, slipped them into my pants pocket, and left the room, locking the door as I walked out.

I wasn't thinking much as I walked and before I knew it, I was downstairs and headed towards the witcher. I didn't know why I was making my way through the inn towards him, but something was telling — pulling — me to go to him, then before I knew it, I was in front of his table.

"I don't want any company." He didn't look up from his mug of ale.

"I'd thought you'd have more of a finer taste in ale, not this stale shit." I leaned up against a support beam that'd connected itself to the bench opposite of Geralt. A smirk formed on my lips when his head shot up at my remark. I knew he could see my face hidden in the shadows of the hood with his catlike eyesight.

"Y/N." He breathed my name out with ease, a smirk played on his lips too at the sight of me. The bond that I had felt four months was back and pulling hard towards the witcher.

"May I?" I tilt my head down to the bench. One of his hands that were wrapped around his mug gestured for me to sit. I slide onto the bench with feline grace and placed both of my arms on the table, clasp my gloved fingers together, and leaned into them. We stared at each other like this for a bit both of us still keeping the smirk on our lips, his eyes almost seemed like they were sparkling as he stared me down.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, finally breaking the spell that we seemed to be in.

"What do you think?" I lean back against the back of the bench, hands still clasped on top of the table, enjoying whatever game it was that we were playing. He hummed in response. "What about you?"

"What do you think?" He shot my response to his same question back at me; this was definitely a game. I let out a low chuckle, a genuine smile gracing my lips and from the looks of it, his too. "How long?"

"A couple of days." I look down as I unclasp my hands and flatten them out on the table, I could almost feel the sexual tension between us on my skin. I fluttered my eyes a bit and looked up to meet his own again. "Why, did you miss me?"

He hummed again. "Just curious."

"Is that so?" I drummed my fingers against the table once. "Wh-"

"Who's this?" Jaskier interrupted me and stood at the edge of the table with his hands on his hips. I tilt my head back just the slightest so Jaskier could see my face, I gave the bard a shit-eating grin.

"Hello Jaskier." I purred out the words to fuck with the bard.

"Oh no, no, no, no. I don't know what's going on here, but no." He shook his finger in my face, I made a biting motion, he quickly pulled his hand back and held it to his chest, I laughed at his reaction. He turned to Geralt, "You must have you lost your damn mind? She's the devil incarnate."

There was a mischievous glint in Geralt's eyes, he just stared at the bard.

"You can't be serious?" The bard gasped.

"Well," I cut in and stood up, standing close to Jaskier, he took a step away. "It was nice seeing you two, but I've got to go." I fix my hood so the average human couldn't see nothing but shadow. "Goodnight Jaskier. Geralt." I flicker my eyes to the witcher, letting him see the playful look in my eyes.

I stepped away from the two and started for the stairs, I swayed my hips as I walked towards my room even though they were covered by the cloak, it swayed with my hips. I felt the witcher's eyes burning into my back, so I turn my head enough for the hood to move with it as if I was looking back at him.

I had gotten to my door and unlocked it when I felt the witcher's presence at the end of the hall. I turned my head to face him to find him swiftly moving down the hall, his eyes pinpointed on me. Once he reached me, I let him push me up against the door, his bright amber eyes were dark with lust, we were so close to each other our breaths were mingling together.

"What are you going to do to me?" I asked, my words dripped with lust. I laid my hands on top of his chest and brought my face closer to his, our lips inches apart, I flickered my eyes to his lips and back to his eyes.

He didn't say anything but placed his hand to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. So close that my lips were brushing against his. I finally kiss him, not being able to handle the proximity that our lips were at. He let out a low growl, deepened the kiss, and pushed me into the door, his knee pushing its way in between my legs, pinning me to the door.

I blindly reached for the doorknob and once I found it, I twisted it open. We both stumbled into the room but fought to keep our lips connected, he kicked the door closed once we got far enough in. I finally broke the kiss for air but he continued kissing me but down my neck as I gasped down air, one hand tugging at the tie that held my cloak in place and the other was gripping the ends of my hair and pulling my neck back so he could have better access to my neck. After I got enough air in my lungs and my cloak pooled at our feet, I turned us around and pushed him onto the bed. My eyes didn't leave Geralt's as I took my jacket and weapons belt off and let them fall to the floor. I moved to straddle his lap and he wasted no time to connect our lips once again. In the midst of our kiss, I started unbuttoning his shirt. When I got his shirt off, my hands started to roam around his chest and arms, his did the same to me but also pushing my shirt up in the process. I broke the kiss to let him take my shirt off. He's hands pushed down on my hips grinding me down on him, I bit my lip to hold in the moan.

"Stop biting your lip." His voice smokey as his thumb dragged my lip out from underneath my teeth. I held eye contact with him as I took his thumb into my mouth and sucked. I released his thumb after I was satisfied when I felt him get harder underneath me.

I rolled my hips down on him as I leaned in, brushing my lips on the shell of his ear, "Fuck me."

As if a switch flipped in him, a growl rumbled through his body and then he flipped me over, he nipped at my collar bone and undid the wrap around my breast. They met air but it did not take long for him to take a nipple into his mouth, he sucked on it a little and then moved to the other. The blast of cold air on it in contrast to his warm mouth caused me to moan, I could feel a smirk forming on his lips against my skin.

He moved away from my beast and grazed his teeth against my neck. "I'm going to ruin you."

His naturally low voice got darker with lust, another wave of pleasure pooled down at my heat. I gripped his hair, one hand pulling at the tie that held his hair back and the other pulling his head back so I could look him in the eyes. "Do it then."

"With pleasure." His smile was filled with sin, he moved down my body, his hair slipped through my fingers. His nose and lips danced across the skin of my abdomen. His fingers danced as he undid the laces on my pants, he started tugging at the waist and I lifted my hips up so he could pull them off. A loud thunk was heard when my pants, undergarments, and boots hit the floor due to the multiple knives there were strapped to or hidden within the clothes. He raised an eyebrow as if he was saying 'really', I smiled in return and sat up. I looked up at him as my fingers fumbled with the laces on his own pants and placed a kiss on his abdomen while still holding eye contact. When I got the laces untied, he pushed me back into the bed, and was already on top of me before I could sit back up to watch him strip. He grunted, fire in his eyes as he said, "I'm ruining you, not the other way around."

His lips brushed my legs with feather like softness. My back arched off the bed with his feather like touches and he took that as his opportunity to slide an arm underneath my back and he placed his other on my hips, holding me down. He bit the inside of my thigh, so close to my heat that I let out a quiet whimper, his glowing amber eyes flickered up to me and held my gaze as he licked a stripe up between my folds, a moan slipped from my lips. "You're so wet." He tutted and pressed a finger at my entrance as his tongue circled around my clit, my fingers gripped the sheets, it had been way too fucking long since I felt this kind of pleasure. Without a warning, he pushed his finger in me, so painfully slow, I bucked my hips up to try to get him to go deeper, but the arm that was behind my back was quick to move at pushing my hips back down. His tongue pressed down on my clit and he added a second figure, stretching me out while his fingers fucked me. I couldn't help the whine that I let out as I pushed my head into the pillows and squeezed my eyes shut, I needed to be fucked now.

"Geralt," I panted as his fingers sped up and I gripped his hair. "I need you now."

He pulled away from my heat, crawling his way up my body oh so slowly. He continued his torture by brushing his lips across my own. "Is that so?"

"Yes," The word was barely a whisper, but by the way his amber eyes flared, I knew he heard it. In a blink of an eye, his lips connected with my own. I could taste myself on his tongue and by the time I was fully detracted with his lips, he slowly sunk himself into me, causing me to gasp for air and him to groan. I sink my nails into his shoulders looking for a release due to the bliss. Once he was balls deep, he pulled out and slammed back into me again.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He grunted, burying his head in the crook of my neck and bit my skin as his hips fell into a steady pace and my legs wrapped around his waist. The pain from his bites and pleasure from his dick filling me and pounding into me was so overwhelming it was hard to think; all I could seem to do as he attacked my seizing body was moan and claw at his back. I could feel him as he pushed against the knot that was slowly forming in my stomach, every stroke brought me closer and closer to the edge.

"Ger... Geralt," His named was broken up by moans, I clung to his body.

"I know, wait." He grumbled into my skin, his forehead pressed into my shoulder, I tangled a hand into his hair. His pounding sped up and a hand slipped down between our bodies, one of his fingers pressed down on the swollen bud of my clit and made hard circles, I clenched around him as another wave of pleasure crashed down upon me. "Now."

The demand was all it took to send me over the edge, I screamed out in pleasure. He watched as I fell apart underneath him, my walls clenched and unclenched around him causing him to growl and bring him to his own release. My walls milked the witcher as ropes of his hot come shot deep inside me.

He fell on top of me after he finished and groaned in my ear, "Fuck."

Our chest pushed against each other as we came down from our highs, I closed my eyes and pushed my head down into the pillows, basking in the afterglow. After we both caught our breath, Geralt rolled over, pulling out of me as he did. I exhaled at the feeling of being empty of him and my body feeling heavy from the ecstasy I had just experienced.

A moment and then Geralt turned to face me, propping his head up on his arm so he could look down at me, he brushed a piece of hair away from my face. His chest was shining with sweat and I knew I wasn't any better, I was still taking deep breaths as I looked into his golden eyes which sparked with mischief.

A smirk ghosted his lips, "You know, not all of us are spoiled assassins that get the luxury of drinking expensive ale."

"What?" I laughed. He grabbed my hand, his thumb messaging my palm, a smirk played on his lips.

"My taste in ale."

"Ah," I laughed yet again, my heart felt like it was blooming with joy, something I hadn't felt in years. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face and while it felt strange, I didn't want it to leave. "You should feel honored."

He raised an eyebrow, now smiling. "Oh really, why's that?"

"Because I haven't smiled and laughed like this in a hundred years."

A chuckle rumbled through his chest; his hand now cupped my face. We laid like this in silence for a bit, just starring at each other, enjoying the rare moment of happiness we shared. It was then that I decided I had to protect this happiness and despite wanting to stay in this sunshine like feeling forever, I knew I had to change the mood between us in order to keep this same ray of light I found protected.

"Whatever it is you're doing here; I'd get out of town in two days." I say in the silence, hating that I took away the light and airy feeling around us.

He grunted and sat up and started moving to the edge of the bed, his back to me. I closed my eyes and took a breath trying to calm the empty feeling spreading back into my heart.

"I'm serious." I spoke so softly that Geralt wouldn't have heard the words if it wasn't for his enhanced hearing. "My target is going to cause the city to go into high alert and they'd think you to be the murderer." His body whipped around, his eyes burning into mine, his eyes squinting into a glare.

"Who?" It was more of a command than a question. I move to get out of bed, but his hand clamped down on my wrist.

"I can't t-"

"Who?" He cut me off, his voice darker with the demand.

"The Duke of Eysenlaan." I whispered low enough that only Geralt would hear, I didn't need any wondering ears hearing who it was.

He clenched his jaw, "Why?"

"I don't know." I looked away from him and towards the ceiling trying to blink away the tears. I hated not only the tears and the way my voice cracked at those words but also because Gamward shut me out on this one. He'd always given me a reason as to why I was killing someone, it gave me a peace of mind knowing that it was evil I was killing and not someone good, he'd known this. Not knowing why I was killing the Duke for tore at my insides, for the first time not trusting Ramerd’s intentions on this kill.

Geralt's hold on my wrist loosed and disappeared altogether, the silence killed me. I was terrified to look into his eyes. I felt the bed shift, but I didn't dare to look towards him, not wanting to see him leave. I let out a gasp as he started to pull my body towards him and wrapped his arms around me, my eyes widen in shock, this was the very last thing I'd expected him to do.

"What did he tell you would happen if you didn't follow his orders?" I felt his chest rumble along with his voice against my skin, I turned away from him.

"You don't want to know."

"Tell me anyways." I took a breath and told him everything, the amount of torture and pain that Ramerd had promised if I didn't do as he said, tears slipped down my cheeks. Geralt's arm tighten around me when my voice cracked from telling him the horrifying details. I could feel the anger rolling off him once I finished telling him.

After my confession, my body and mind were tired. And I was tired. So tired of this life. But for some odd reason, Geralt's arms around me brought a comfort to me that I didn't know I needed until now.

— ‡ —

When Geralt had first seen the assassin that night, he couldn't explain the pull his heart felt towards her, almost as if something had bound the two together, the bond hadn't stopped pulling at his heart until he had pulled her up against her door; his head pounded with thoughts of fucking her, as if he was under a spell. And now, all Geralt could think about as the assassin slept in his arms was four months ago when she'd uttered the words, 'you have no idea on what it's like living under Ramerd Gamward's thumb.'

She was right, he had no idea. He knew he had no idea when she'd said those words, but the reality of those words didn't hit him until she'd confessed the promise of torture her master gave her if she didn't complete his request.

'Her master.' Those words burned him with anger. It made him want to squeeze the life out of the man that had not only taken the life from others, but the life from the girl that lay in his arms.

The witcher knew when her voice broke while telling him she didn’t know why Gamward wanted her to kill the Duke, this normally didn’t happen to her, and that it tore at her not knowing the reason she was about to kill someone.

So once Geralt finally feel asleep, a smile found itself on his face as he dreamed about taking Ramerd Gamward's life and freeing Y/N from the bastard.

— ‡ —

Masterlist

There will be a part three! Idk when because I have to start preparing for a conference that’s in two weeks, but there is a third part in the works.

Geralt Tag: @alwayshave-faith

Tags: @pippin248 @american-duchess @agentdedf1sh @didi0666 @ayamenimthiriel @a-dorky-book-keeper @boiblunder @stretchkingblog97

If I missed anyone, please let me know. Also if you want to be added, let me know!

Also I’ve only written smut once and that was YEARS ago, so I apologize if this was complete shit.

#geralt #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt smut #geralt fanfic #the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher imagine #the witcher smut #geralt x assassin!reader #geralt x halfelf!reader #geralt z rivii #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader

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