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beels-burger-babe · 3 years ago

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Melodious Mourning

***Ben Platt?! Hell yes! Okay! I am so so excited about this! Thank you so much @ester-is-here for reminding me how much I love this song. I hope everyone enjoys it. You can listen to the song, if you haven't already, here. Disclaimer: In Case You Don't Live Forever and its lyrics do not belong to me. They belong to the brilliant Ben Platt*** Poly!MC Summary: It's MC's anniversary of their relationship with the Lords of the Devildom. They've planned a little something special to share with them; something that will express how much they love the brothers, while also preparing them for a tragic truth. The time had come. After a long night of celebrating your anniversary with the seven sins, it was time for you to finally show them the surprise you had prepared for them. You giggled as you dragged a tired Belphegor into the music room by his hand, the others following closely behind you. Asmodeus made a small noise of disappointment and leaned against the grand piano in the middle of the room. "You know when you said you had a surprise for us, I must admit this wasn't exactly what I had in mind, " you snorted as Satan smacked Asmo on the back of the head. Asmo yelped and held his head as he glared at Satan. "Though I'm sure that whatever this surprise it will be equally as lovely. Geez, let me finish before you ruin my hair!" Mammon came up beside you. "But what is this surprise though? Is it a diamond? Money? Jewelry? That lost treasure that we never found?" You smiled softly at the Avatar of Greed and poked his nose. "It's better than that. Or at least I hope it will be," You sat down at the piano and took some sheet music out of your bag. "I um...I wanted to sing a song for all of you," you nervously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "With our anniversary being today, I've been thinking a lot about us and all the time that's passed and the what the future will hold, and I-I just thought that this song would be the perfect way to express all of that."

Lucifer placed a hand on the small of your back as he looked down at you with an awe-filled, adoring expression. "I wasn't aware you could play. I would've loved to play with you sometime." You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. "There will be time for that in the future. For now, it's time for your surprise," you hovered your fingers over the keys and hesitated. The song the message shared was important but would be hard for your lovers to hear. You glanced over at them. "J-Just listen, please. Okay?" Beel frowned at the serious look on your face and nodded. He could sense that there was something important about this performance, something almost dire, that clearly frightened you. "Of course." You took in a shaky breath as you began to move your finger across the keys.

"You put all your faith in my dreams. You gave me the world that I wanted. What did I do to deserve you?" Your smooth voice filled the room and wrapped around the hearts of each of the demons. They smiled gently at your words as a warmth filled their chests. In the years that they were fortunate enough to have you in their lives, they had spent every last second doing their best to keep you happy. They would give you the world if you asked for it, and you knew that. "I follow your steps with my feet. I walk on the road that you started. I need you to know that I heard you. Every word." Since coming here, the brothers have shown you a number of things. Lucifer taught you to be more confident and take pride in the things that you've achieved. Mammon taught you that it was okay to be selfish sometimes to do the things that you wanted. Together, you and Leviathan learned that the only opinion that truly matters is your own. Satan taught you that you define your own fate and meaning and that no one can say who you are except you. Asmodeus taught you to appreciate the pleasures in life, no matter how big or small. Beelzebub engrained in you that your body is a temple that you must cherish, look after, and love. And finally, Belphegore taught you that it's alright to take time for yourself. Each of them had impacted you and fundamentally changed the way that you looked at life, and you would never be able to thank them enough for that. "I've waited way too long to say. Everything you mean to me," you swallowed down the lump that was beginning to form in your throat. You had waited too long to tell them this, that much was true. By now they were irreversibly attached to you. Though you were grateful for it and loved them in return, there was something all of you had been avoiding discussing. You took in a shaky breath; you couldn't hold it off anymore. "In case I don't live forever let me tell you now," You could hear their breaths get caught in their throats. Lucifer's hand froze on your back, while Belphie quickly sat up from where he was laying on your shoulder. "MC, what are y-you saying? What are you-" Levi's voice stuttered from behind you. You couldn't bring yourself to look at them as you continued, "I love you more than you'll wrap your head around," you finally glanced over at Levi. The otaku's eyes were wide and filled with fear and concern as he scanned you for any missed injuries or signs of illness. At finding none, his eyebrows narrowed in confusion. You offered him a reassuring smile before looking back down at the keys. "In case I don't live forever, let me tell you the truth. I'm everything that I am because of you." Satan's trembling hand gripped onto your shoulder as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. "MC, my love, that is beautiful. But you can't just say something like that and not expect us to be concerned. Are you alright? Should I be getting a doctor or Barbatos or do I need to take you to a human hospital?" You paused for a moment to turn to your lovers. "I'm okay. There's nothing wrong with me, only that I'm human," you watched as they tensed in realization. "Treasure, that's not-" Mammon stepped forward, but you lifted a hand to stop him. "I've been thinking about the passing of time a lot lately, a-a-and I need to say this. Please, just let me finish?" The sound of your voice close to tears had the brothers wanting to do nothing more than wrap you up in their arms and never let you go again. But there was this desperate glint in your eyes, that none of them could deny. Belphie laid his head back down on your shoulder and buried his face into the fabric of your top. "Go ahead, angel. We're listening." You turned your head to lightly kissed his head, whispering a small thank you, before picking back up the song.

The music filled the room once more, but unlike before where it filled your lovers with joy at the thought of such a sentimental gift, a feeling of dread and unease now swirled in their stomachs. "I've carried this song in my mind. Listen it's echoing in me. But I never helped you to hear it." Your mortality was something that had weighed on your thoughts for years now. You never mentioned it for you knew that the brothers would just brush off the subject. They had lost so much already; they didn't even want to begin thinking about the day when you would no longer be with them. But with each passing year, the subject had become more and more crucial, yet you were still too much of a coward to bring such a distressing topic to light. You had hoped the song would lighten the blow, but based on the way Mammon's eyes were squeezed shut and his fists were pressed to his mouth, as though whispering a prayer, it hadn't. Tears pricked your eyes at the sight as you felt your throat tighten. "We, we've only got so much time. I'm pretty sure it would kill me if you didn't know that pieces of me were pieces of you." It was true. You carried the boys with you where ever you went, both literally through your pacts and figuratively through the pieces of their personalities that you have mirrored throughout the years. You often find yourself mimicking Lucifer's eye-brow raise when someone is acting particularly stupid. The sight of food or beautiful clothes causes your heart to thrumb with excitement, just like it does for Beel and Asmo. You have a deeper appreciation for anime and astrology from your many nights with Levi and Belphie. You're more knowledgeable and educated in literature from your countless hours in the library with Satan. You were more conscious with your money after your few attempts of trying to teach Mammon how to budget. You were one with your boys; a beautiful collage of the experiences and times that you had all spent together. You just hoped that they knew that. "I've waited way too long to say. Everything you mean to me." Asmodeus claimed your other side, as one of his hands moved up to delicately wipe a tear from your face. You noticed, with an aching heart, that his cheeks were tearstained as well. Your lip trembled as you opened your mouth to sing the chorus. "In case I don't live forever let me tell you now. I love you more than you'll ever wrap your head around. In case I don't live forever, let me tell you the truth. I'm everything that I am because of you." At this point, you weren't singing so much as you were sobbing. You could feel your hands tremble heavily as you pushed them to keep playing. The only thing keeping you from breaking down completely was the solid feeling of the brother's touch supporting you as they lent you their strength. You squeezed your eyes shut and played hard on the keys, causing the brothers to jump a little as you began to belt. "I have a hero if ever I need one!" Flashes of the countless times that they had come to your rescue flashed in your mind. Unknown to you, the brothers weren't thinking of them rescuing you at all, but rather how you had saved each and every one of them. "I just look up to you and I see one! I'm a man 'cause you taught me to be one," your voice quivered with emotion as you held the falsetto note at the end. You leaned over the keys, suppressed cries falling from your lips as your shoulders shook. Beel placed a hand over top of one of your own and met your gaze. "You don't have to finish this MC. We understand what you're trying to say and we can just end the song here and talk if you want." It was tempting. Honestly, your hands our practically useless with how much they were shaking. But this wasn't just for them anymore. Speaking the words that had been swarming your mind for too many years out loud, although painful, also freed you from a sense of guilt that you weren't even aware that you were carrying. "I-I'd like to finish it. I-If you all don't mind." Belphie's arms came to wrap around your waist and Asmo

pressed a kiss to your cheek. Lucifer's hand on your back moved in comforting circles, while Satan repeated the motion with his thumb on your shoulder. Levi moved closer to lean onto the piano for support. Mammon gave you a tearful smile as Beel lifted his hand off of yours. "Of course. Take your time, honey bun." You took several deep breaths to calm yourself before lightly playing the chords. You met the eyes of your partners and hoped that they could see the utter adoration and passion that was flooding through your veins for them. "In case you don't live forever let me tell you now," you playfully elbowed Belphie and turned your head to kiss Asmo's cheek. "I love you more than you'll ever wrap your head around." As the music picked up the tempo once more, you couldn't help but grin even as tears poured down your cheeks. "In case you don't live forever, let me tell you the truth. I'm everything that I am-" You closed your eyes, tilting your head back, as you allowed yourself to give in to the music and fully feel everything that you had been suppressing. "Woah, Woah, Woah. " As you began to sing the melody again, your eyes snapped open as you heard the brothers harmonize alongside you. Lucifer, Satan and Beel's low voices rang deep like the growl of thunder. Asmodeus and Belphie hit the higher octaves, chiming like bells ringing in the wind. Mammon and Levi sang the original notes with you, remaining strong and pure like waves against a shore. You laughed brightly as a radiant sensation of love blanketed you in warmth and soaked up any traces of fear that lingered. "In case I don't live forever, let me tell you the truth." You looked around at the brothers tenderly and softly played the final notes. They all smiled back at you, eyes gleaming with that same sense of passionate affection that you had felt moments earlier. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you came to a realization. No matter how much or little time you had left with each other, you would spend every moment of it at each other's side loving another unconditionally. "As long as I'm here as I am," you rested your head on top of Belphie's and smiled softly, "so are you." *** This was so sweet and sad at the same time and I just LOVED writing it! Oh my goodness, I haven't written a song fic in ages, so this was a little challenging, but I just loved it so much. Thank you @ester-is-here for this beautiful request!*** TAGLIST: @thegrimgrinningghost

@henry-and-the-seven-lords

@satans-beloved-riv

@cosmixbun

@sufzku

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mimi-cee-hq · 3 years ago

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Wildfires - Atsumu x f!reader

Summary: You're burned from last year's rumours, now fearing any hint of smoke. Yet you can't help, but fall for the childhood friend who's a balm to your wounds.

Genres, tropes, etc: angst with a satisfying and happy ending, angst to fluff, hurt/ comfort, exs to lovers (but not the usual kind), secret dating, drama and romance, but it's still somehow cute because that's just how I write lol

Warnings: false rumours about cheating and an illicit relationship, so it still technically mentions those things.

Words: 1.9k

Author's Notes: Hi Lia (@chimielie)! I'm your ☀️ anon. 🥰 You suggested exs to lovers and hurt/comfort for this prompt and it still technically is those things, but it's probably not what you expected.

If anyone is new to my blog and doesn't want to read angst, here's a cute fluff Atsumu x reader instead. :)

This fic is for the Heatwave Fic Exchange (@heatwave2021). Thank you for hosting this!

~*~*~

"I hadn't realized you two were still together."

Not even the overworked fan's whirring can drown out the strained silence that follows.

"We're not."

The air is dry and sweat forms on your brow. With the sun beating down, it's the perfect combination for a wildfire.

Atsumu's chin sits on his fist as he avoids your gaze. Lowering your eyes, you stare at the wooden table.

"Did he still care?" you ask yourself.

~*~*~

Plaid skirts sway as two students peek into their new classroom, attempting to be discreet. You hear their whispers from a distance, waiting in front of your own classroom.

"Look! We get Kinjou-sensei this year!" one exclaims.

"Are you serious?" the other asks after letting out a gasp. "I don't know if that's a good thing or not. I might end up staring at his face all day."

"Maybe it'll help you pay attention," her friend snickers.

You clench your jaw as heat rises in your body. They're able to indulge in frivolous remarks, ignorant of how you're left scarred from one fleeting gesture, a tiny piece of kindling that ignited into uncontrollable flames.

Cool hands cover your ears from behind you. Your jaw relaxes and the tension dissipates from your shoulders. You turn around to see Atsumu wearing a scowl on his lips. Sighing as you cross your arms, you ask, "Atsumu, what are you doing?"

"Well if only there was a way to make 'em shut up," he replies with a sharp tone.

You lean away from him and swat his hands back. "You're too close," you tell him.

"Alright!" he says, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'll go!"

As he walks away, he crosses his thumb and index finger behind his back, forming a little heart. You smirk at his hidden gesture to you.

"I love you too, Atsumu," you silently tell him as a smile graces your lips. However, it vanishes like the mist in the sun when yet another person calls after him, someone he doesn't know.

You skirt around the other students, avoiding their path, and rush to your desk. There are too many dry leaves around; a single spark can burst everything into flames.

Why does everyone have to know Atsumu?

~*~*~

"I wish you could've been my partner for the project," you say.

Atsumu pours a glass of water and places it on the table in front of you. "You ended up with that new girl, right?" he mentions and you reply with a nod. "She should be safe to work with."

You're startled once again when you hear the chimes from the front door. A rattan room divider obstructs your view of it, but you hunch down anyway as you finally pick up your spoon.

Atsumu sits across from you, sharing something about his team. His eyes dim when he realizes you haven't been listening.

"This isn't working," he tells you. "I thought this restaurant would be better because people can't see us from here." He runs his fingers in his hair, a sign he's frustrated.

"I– I forgot people can still hear us," you say in a low voice.

Atsumu sighs. "Let's just watch a movie at my house," he says. "Osamu already knows anyway."

"You know we can't," you protest. "Not when Hana and Haku drop by so often. They're going to realize we're together."

"But how are we supposed to have any fun when you're so scared?"

"I–" You lower your gaze, eyes unfocused towards your untouched bowl of rice. "Sorry, Atsumu."

"It's not your fault," he reminds you yet again. This exchange has become all too familiar. "Maybe we should finally tell Hana and Haku what happened to you."

"And have them find out the guy in the rumours is their beloved brother?" You cross your arms over your chest and rub your hand on your sleeve. "I still want to be comfortable around them, Atsumu. Ignorance is bliss right?"

His mouth twists before a groan escapes from it. He slouches in his seat and stares at the food in front of you, which remains the way the waitress left it.

"Let's take the train to Tokyo next time," he mutters. "Nobody'll know us there."

Your eyes grow before looking up at Atsumu. "What?" you slowly enunciate just above a whisper. "Don't you know how expensive that is?"

He presses his lips together before sharing his next suggestion. "I know where 'Samu's secret stash of money is…"

You narrow your eyes at him. "No, we're not stealing from him to go on a date, Atsumu."

"Alright," he says, lowering his eyes and dropping his shoulders.

Seeing his expression, you offer another idea. "How about Osaka?" It's only one city away.

Atsumu's eyes light up, excited at the chance of finally getting to enjoy some time with you. Although your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes, you hope leaving the vicinity of last year's wildfires would be enough, for Atsumu's sake and yours.

~*~*~

Your heart beats faster and your throat becomes dry. You weren't getting enough air.

"You're okay," you tell yourself. "She's not talking about you."

"Seriously! That happened at my old school," your project partner snickers as she recounts her story to you. "They even got the kiss on camera too! I felt so bad for her, but it's her own fault for cheating on him."

You begin to feel dizzy, catching a whiff of smoke from another victim's fire. Her words add fuel to a fire that cannot be stopped. Wildfires burn and burn, and are never satisfied until they run out of kindling.

"Oh! I've been meaning to ask. Are you dating Atsumu? The two of you seem really close!"

Your throat struggles to take control, attempting to keep your stomach down; it doesn't want to burn either.

They'll say you're cheating on Kinjou-sensei.

The tongue is a powerful weapon, causing destruction by those who are both untrained and ignorant as well as the truly malicious.

Your knees buckle as you pant for air, your grip weak on the knob. You need to get out.

Atsumu's figure is before you and you relax as he catches you. You never would have imagined that this guy would be your fleeting oasis.

~*~*~

"Let's break up," you tell Atsumu.

You both knew this was coming, yet a bucket of icy water chilled to the bone regardless of whether or not it was expected. Speaking those words aloud shocked you back into reality.

You hesitated dating each other in the first place, but you couldn't help but caress his strong hands when he admitted his feelings for you. Growing up together in your group of five, he was by your side from snotty noses to acne breakouts.

You didn't expect to fall for the hot-head of your bunch when rumours of you dating Kinjou-sensei spread. Atsumu attempted to extinguish every flame he spotted, witnessing your anguish each time you got burned.

"Maybe we can still do this," you say, contradicting your previous words.

"And what? Have ya pass out again every time someone asks about us?" Atsumu protests. He lowers his eyes as he clutches your hand. "Do ya know how worried I was about ya?"

Your heart flutters for a moment before you remind yourself that you can't keep him, the boy who has been by your side for so long.

"Aghhhhh! This is so stupid!!! Why are we suffering because of this made up crap?! 'Kinjou-sensei' had put a bandaid on me a thousand times more than he did t' ya! But nobody gives a crap about that!"

"I'm sorry Atsumu."

"Why the heck are ya sorry?!" he says, raising his voice.

"I– If I was just strong enough... If I could withstand their stupid words"–your lip trembles–"maybe I wouldn't have to choose between you and having some peace."

There's another silence between the two of you. Your fingers are loosely intertwined together, barely holding the fragile string between the two of you, as if it were a wick that would combust and disappear in a split second.

"Maybe we should just run away," Atsumu mumbles aloud.

"What?"

"Ya know, transfer schools. Or even drop out if we need ta."

"Atsumu! You can't! We can't! You have volleyball! And I... this is the only school that gave me a scholarship."

"Agh! Why is this so frustrating?!"

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, ya idiot! Ya did nothing wrong!" He presses and rubs his forehead with the heel of his palm. "I just… I wish I could do more for ya." His arm drops at his side. "I wish I didn't feel so useless."

Your tears drip down your face. Could they be counted any more? If only you didn't fear getting caught dating Atsumu, terrified that last year's fires would morph into a raging beast. But another wildfire would not only destroy you but also the man you loved. If only your sores healed by now, you could have shown off your boyfriend, disregarding any of the flames.

If only you were fireproof.

But you weren't and now you're forced to loosen your grip on Atsumu, the balm to your wounds, and let him fall out of your hands.

~*~*~

"I hadn't realized you two were still together."

Not even the overworked fan's whirring can drown out the strained silence that follows.

"We're not."

It was three years since you talked to Atsumu, four since rumours first raged through the school. The two of you went through cycles of getting back together and breaking up again every time you learned that fear was still crippling you. Cutting off contact was the less painful option.

Years later, you're at a friend's cottage and Atsumu comes along without knowing you're here as well. Now that high school has come and gone, the smoke has dissipated and the fires have finished their course. You can finally breathe.

But does Atsumu still want you?

To anyone else, Atsumu is bored out of his mind, resting his chin on his fist. Nobody sees his thumb and finger forming a tiny heart.

Your heart flutters and you blink back tears. You attempt to hold back your growing grin, but you have no reason to hide it anymore.

You wrap your arms around him, almost causing him to topple off of his chair, Atsumu letting out a yelp. "What the heck are ya doing?"

You can finally release your feelings for him, openly and freely. The dam opens and waters rush to engulf him before you settle into his embrace.

"I love you too Atsumu," you tell him without a care in the world.

Osamu tells you he changed when you cut off contact. He desired to be a man, not wanting to feel so powerless, and poured himself into things he could do. It paid off.

"Did ya want to go somewhere together? I could even take ya all the way t' Rome if ya want."

The two of you hold each others' hands as the ocean's edge cools your feet. You lean against his shoulder, cherishing the moment that at one point seemed like an inaccessible dream.

You give him a peck on the cheek and smile. "Tokyo seems like a nice place for a date for now."

~*~*~

I hope you enjoyed this fic. :) (And I hope you liked it Lia!!) I guess I can be poetic if I try. lol. I had a whole commentary written out for this fic, but I decided against posting it here and making my author's notes as long as the fic itself. 😂

If you enjoyed this fic, I don't really have any similar pieces of writing at the moment. The only one that's similar is the hurt/comfort Kunimi WIP I've put off writing for so long because I didn't think I could pull off this type of fic. (And also because I think only one person will read it.) The theme in that one is pity/pride because pitiful is Kunimi's most hated word.

Anyway, if you want to see my usual style of writing, I have a cute tooth-rotting fluff Atsumu x reader one-shot. I currently also have an ongoing fake dating chaptered Suna fic, which is probably my best planned fic with the hints and foreshadowing and a nice mix of humour, fluff and shoujo-type angst. :)

I also have a Google form for my taglist if anyone is interested.

#miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu angst #atsumu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #miya atsumu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #atsumu fanfic #miya atsumu fanfiction #haikyuu fanfiction #hihqnetwork #animehorizons #angelwalker’s virtues #atsumu scenarios

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

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Beyond Death

Alcina Dimitrescu x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Death, Loss, Grief, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst

Summary: After fighting triumph over Lady Dimitrescu in her dragon/monster form, Ethan thinks he’ll have to face one last threat before leaving the castle but said threat happens to be nothing but a hollow ghost carrying a broken heart.

Requested by Anon. Hi hun! Thank you so much for your wonderful and extremely heartbreaking request! So sorry that it’s taken me so long to write and post it but I still hope you’ll come across it and give it a read. If so I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

It’s over. It’s finally fucking over.

Ethan Winters lets out a heavy but shaky sigh of relief that practically deflates him as though he had been holding it in - was holding it in during the entire duel against Lady Dimitrescu who is now nothing my an ashy corpse on the floor, leaving behind only a crystal sculpture to her name - the nine foot tall vampire lady that reigned over the village with a reputation stronger than the village’s actual ruler - Mother Miranda.

And now her and her daughters remain a memory - quite an unpleasant one - for the villagers, leaving one less Lord for them to fear yet remaining a figure they cower in fear just by thinking about her.

Pushing past the cloud of confusion, relief and disbelief, a soft sound that appears to be footsteps approaching reaches Ethan’s brain, kicking his heartbeat up and forcing him back into a fight-or-flight mindset. Of course he’s gonna choose fight, of course this fool is gonna see this all till the end.

But what if it’s not a fight the person approaching wants?

What if all they want is to have made it there a few minutes earlier?

What if they are no threat now and they never have been? What if that’s why the Dimitrescus kept them safe in the hidden chambers and quarters of their castle, places not even Alcina’s dear Miranda knew nothing about.

Y/N L/N Dimitrescu, Alcina’s one true love.

They were a neighbor of Alcina’s prior to the experimentation process. The two got along nicely - well, more than nicely. Pleasantly enough for Alcina to develop feelings for them along the way. Feelings that the pain and suffering of the experiments never managed to wipe away, ones that still resided with Alica even years later and only flared up stronger when Y/N recognized her on one of their ventures into the outskirts, near the Dimitrescu Castle.

“Alcina?“ They had said, their wide and confused eyes meeting the vampire’s terrified ones.

The typically fearless Lady Dimitrescu found herself at a loss of words, her throat dry, her stomach aching and her chest tight at the sight of the one last connection she has to humanity - her feelings for Y/N. But she was left on the fence, suffocated by the suspense of how Y/N would continue onward with the interaction. How they’d react to her drastic change? How they’d address her?

“Y/N...“ Their name was barely a shaky whisper on the tall woman’s lips, trembling hands clenched in tight fists to prevent from letting her emotions show.

“I missed you.“

That was what hit Alcina the strongest. That one single sentence had her assuming her true form - a pile of shard of the past, present and the many possible futures ahead. A pile of shards glued together with a weak glue threatening to give at any moment, collapsing the tough, graceful and untouchable façade of Alcina Dimitrescu. That’s how the woman knew she still had something human in her. Or rather with her as long as she had Y/N.

And so she kept them like a precious pearl in the palm of her hand and they never once neglected showing their gratitude for all she did for them. They never once hesitated to show their love and appreciation in return to all they received from her. But, the most important gift Alcina was keen on giving was the presence of her true self around Y/N. She never bothered with an act around them. Never lied, never put on a show. She was more human than ever around them. She was fragile, vulnerable, honest and bare before them. And they never made her feel any less than the feverous Lord she was despite her human side.

“It only makes you stronger.“ Y/N would say, referring to Alcina’s human side, ��As a human myself, I can confirm we humans aren’t that bad and incompetent. Not all of us, at least. I remember you aren’t, that’s for sure.“

“Who are you?!“ Gun pointed at the pale figure moving barefoot across the room to crouch down next to the ashy corpse of Alcina Dimtrescu, Ethan can feel his blood starting to boil again. It’s not real fear but it’s most definitely a feeling of hostility fueled by massive adrenaline that seems to have taken complete control of him and has him in a death grip, leading him to do and say crap he normally wouldn’t. This behavior of his would be enough to get even Chris Redfield to take a step back but this person doesn’t seem to even acknowledge his presence let alone be intimidated by him.

Focusing their complete attention on the mess of crystals before them, they gently run their fingertips over the creature’s wing but sadly even their light touch manages to crumble a small bit of ash from it, the dust falling to the floor along with Y/N’s heart.

“Hey, answer me! Who the hell are you?! What are you doing here? Are you...are you like them? One of them?“ His voice becomes more and more uncertain, decreasing from an angry shout to a shaky whisper.

“You killed her. You took her from me.“ Is the response he eventually gets, spoken by a monotone flat voice that doesn’t go with Y/N’s appearance at all. Their eyes remain fixated on the tiny spot on the wing they touched seconds ago as if their gaze will bring it back to live.

Bring her back to them.

That on its own is enough to get Ethan to keep his mouth shut, gaining a vague idea of what’s going on here and who this person might be. What the deceased means to them. In his eyes, she was nothing but a monster, but in theirs, it’s obvious she was a lot more.

And so, when he approaches them and and tries to communicate with them one last time, he says and does the only thing he sees as even moderately right in this situation: he sets the crystal remains of Alcins Dimitrescu by their side. “Have this, I believe she’d want you to. It’s all that’s left of her that you can keep.“ He knows their face is emotionless and still but something about that stillness is the exact reason why he doesn’t want to look at them while he says those words. He can’t find it in himself to apologize, not that an apology would help him much in this situation anyway, so all he can attempt is pointless. All that matters to them is gone - that’s the price of him gaining a stronger chance at getting his daughter back before it’s too late.

And just like that, without another word, the blonde man walks out of the castle, leaving the broken heart and soul that used to be a complete human being behind him. A complete human being in love with someone extraordinary. Their love for her knew no bounds, and not even death as they sit there by their lover’s remains, refusing to leave their side even when they are not both present in this world.

A lover’s true love and devotion is shown when tested - unfortunately, Y/N and Alcina’s love was faced with the ultimate test: death. And it hasn’t faltered, nor will it ever as it seems.

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

Text

Mute

Prompt: I absolutely adore your writing! Could I ask for a request too, please? I was thinking of a back-and-forth between Janus and Logan, just lies after truths after lies, until one snaps and accidentally causes the other to lose the ability to speak? Since they can both technically change the reality around them. Either the recipient becomes forcibly mute or the very angsty "sowed up mouth" method. Whoever caused the other to lose their speech freaks out and tries their best to fix their mess while apologising. Either a platonic or romantic ending -whichever you decide- but with at least a happy ending please? - willowaudreykeyes

Thanks for the prompts, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic janus, logan gets his mouth sewn shut but it's okay we fix it

Pairings: can be platonic or romantic I don't care, but we hit logince, rociet, lociet

Word Count: 2922

He doesn’t even remember how it started.

Or, an argument between Logan and Janus spirals dangerously out of hand, and powers in the Mindscape are sometimes more curses than blessings.

It hadn’t been something Thomas knew about, it hadn’t been a group discussion—he doesn’t think the others know where they are. Virgil is probably in his room, Roman is working in the Imagination, Patton is baking with Remus.

He doesn’t remember how it started.

He does know how they got here.

“I fail to see what use this is,” Logan had grumbled, standing up from the library table, “I will be better off figuring this out myself.”

“Oh, yes, of course, because that’s always gone so well for you in the past.”

Logan’s eyes had flashed with anger he still denies he has. “I fail to see what gives you the opinion that you have any right to complain.”

“Because I’m certainly the one saying that I’ve done all my best work alone.”

Janus had smirked cruelly as Logan shoved his glasses back up his nose and pointed a finger at him. “Your track record, may I remind you, has certainly shown that.”

Janus had thrown his head back and cackled, filled with mirth that sat like rot in the pit of his stomach. “And yet I managed to do so much more in the few times I appeared than you.”

“Oh, like that’s the same thing.”

He had held his hand to his mouth in a mock gasp. “Why, Logan, surely you can’t be insinuating that you think the others are incompetent. How hurtful, what on earth would they say?”

“I did not say that.”

“But you meant it, didn’t you?” Janus had morphed his expression into a mock pout. “They’re all so slow, so irrational, all they do is get in the way, they’re so irritating.”

“You’re attempting to convince me that I said something I did not,” Logan had said firmly, “it will not work. The meaning of my remark, as you are aware, was that you, as your role in the videos, have an easier time disrupting the flow of conversation that I do as a member of the main cast.”

Logan had ignored—or perhaps not noticed—the subtle tightening of Janus’s fist. He had simply sniffed and looked down his nose.

“And even then, it’s a surprise you haven’t been more capable.”

Janus had bared his teeth. “Yes, because obviously, you could’ve done better.”

“Oh, please.” Logan had tucked his notebook into the crook of his arm. “Can you name one of your haphazard schemes that actually worked?”

Janus had gritted his teeth as Logan opened the notebook and began to read down the list.

“Your attempt to get Thomas to lie to Joan failed when Roman started to believe that lying was wrong as well, leading to Thomas discovering your true identity.”

“By all means,” Janus had growled, “keep going.”

“Most notably, your attempt to get Thomas to go to the callback backfired quite spectacularly—something that wouldn’t have happened in quite the same fashion had you actually let me participate—“

“Keep talking, Logan,” he’d said again, inching closer to the nerd, “that’s a wonderful idea.”

“—and of course, led to what is the most disruptive event in recent memory,” Logan had continued, undaunted, “the wedding.”

Janus hadn’t even bothered with words this time, reaching for the notebook with a growl. Logan had tucked it away before he could reach it.

“Tell me,” he had said, “was it worth it? Knowing how much it cost us?”

“Surely,” Janus had growled back, “then you know it’s not because you didn’t do your job well enough.”

Logan had stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

“Well surely you haven’t realized that the reason I was able to make it into that video in the first place,” Janus had said smoothly, sliding back into the ‘villain’ persona Logan has so graciously cast him in, “was that you were so painfully easy to replace.”

“Falsehood,” Logan had said lowly.

Janus had raised his hand again. “Oh, so you did notice. Splendid. Then you know that when it comes to pushing blame around the Mindscape—“

He had leaned closer.

“—you’re where we should be looking too.”

“I am—“

“Easy to overlook,” Janus had sung, prowling around Logan in a circle, “easy to silence. And surely there’s no correlation between when you attempt to override the others and when Thomas gets hurt. You want to talk about my failures? Then let’s not forget getting the others trapped in Patton’s room, shall we?”

Logan’s fists had tightened. “That’s not—“

“After all,” Janus had continued, speaking over him to illustrate his point, “if I’m to blame for knocking all the dominos down, you certainly didn’t give me a hand setting them up.”

“As if that in any way equivocates to what you did,” Logan had spat, the emotionless facade finally giving way as he whirled of Janus, “I did not use, manipulate, and lie to get the others to do what I want.”

“Oh, of course you didn’t.”

“And if I did, my lies would be nowhere near as comically obvious.”

“Ah, yes, of course you’re never comical.” Janus had tapped Logan’s flushed cheek. “The possibilities of you being a joke have always been…infinitesimal.”

Logan had bared his teeth as Janus chuckled. “At least my concept of a joke never hurt anyone.”

Logan’s mouth had tugged up cruelly too.

“Setting Remus loose on Thomas when you knew he was already upset, pushing the others to follow on whatever path you decided was best. And let’s not even start on what you did to Roman.”

Janus had flinched.

“Have you ever apologized?” Logan had shaken his head. “For everything that you’ve done to hurt him?”

“Have you?”

The room had dropped several degrees.

Janus had dropped the villain persona, staring directly at Logan.

“You want to talk about hurting the others, hurting Roman,” he had said lowly, “what do you think it is that you do?”

Logan had opened his mouth to speak but Janus had raised a finger.

“No. Do you know how much you’ve hurt him? Over how many years you’ve made him ashamed of who he is?” He had shaken his head. “I know I’ve hurt him. But you don’t seem to recognize it.”

He had looked Logan up and down, mouth curled in disgust.

“Maybe I’m not good enough at my job for your liking, but I sure was good at yours.” He had raised an eyebrow. “Maybe they wanted you silenced permanently. They did press the ‘skip’ button, after all.”

He had looked for the shadow of the bruise on Logan’s neck.

“And it was so easy to replace you. To silence you properly.”

He had turned away, not bothering to look at Logan’s face.

“Maybe I should do them a favor and keep you quiet.”

There had been a strangled gasp behind him.

“Oh, what,” Janus had drawled, turning around, “did you finally realize you don’t have a smart comeback for…”

The room had frozen.

…so that’s how they got here.

Janus, standing a few paces from Logan, turning back to face him, the sharp quip dying on the edge of his lips as his mouth drops open in horror, staring back.

Logan, his eyes wide, shining with unshed tears, glasses blurred and obscured by the bright light shining from the golden stitches that sew his mouth shut.

Logan raises trembling hands to his mouth, feeling the stitches, tears rolling down his face. His fingers disappear into the bright golden light as he fumbles with his mouth, until he realizes that he can’t.

The strangled scream lingers in Janus’s head long after Logan shrinks into a crouch on the floor.

No.

No, no, no, no—no, not Logan. Not Logan.

“Oh, god—“ Logan’s hands keep pressing fruitlessly against his mouth— “no, oh, god, Logan—“

He runs back, ready to crouch and pry Logan’s hands away before he hurts himself, chest splitting open from the ache of hurting the poor thing like this.

He doesn’t think it could hurt more.

Like so many other times today, he’s wrong.

The instant Logan catches a glimpse of him moving toward him, he shoves himself away, scrambling backward until his back hits the wall. Eyes wide, breathing as heavily as he can through the stitches, utterly terrified.

As he has every right to be.

“No, no, Logan,” he murmurs frantically, “no, it’s okay, I’m not trying to hurt you—“

Does it matter that you’re not trying? You certainly were earlier.

“—I promise, Logan, please, I’m—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

Through the pants, the sobs, the shakiness of his chest, Logan huffs, disbelieving.

“I didn’t, Logan, I promise.” Janus drops to his knees in front of the crying man. “I—we went too far. I’m sorry, I didn’t know this would happen, I didn’t mean to, please—“

The poor thing presses himself further against the wall. Janus swallows, feeling guilt press hot and heavy against the underside of his tongue. He reaches out, trying desperately to show him that he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to, he doesn’t actually believe anything he just said, he’s nothing but a liar, a horrible liar, please—

“I didn’t mean it, Logan, I promise, you’re—you’re not replaceable, I don’t want you silenced, the others don’t hate you, they don’t want you gone, I’m sorry—“

Slowly, too slowly, and not slowly enough, Logan’s breathing begins to settle. His eyes lose that awful whiteness and he slumps a little against the wall. His cheeks are damp, his glasses knocked askew, but he stares at Janus and slowly, slowly, nods.

“L-Logan?”

Another nod, a little less hesitant.

Janus’s shoulders slump. “Oh, Logan, why does it always end up with you being the better person?”

A tiny quirk of the eyebrow, nowhere near Logan’s typical sass levels, but it’s enough. It’s enough. Enough to make a weak smile come to Janus’s face.

“Can I come over, please? Can I come help?”

Logan nods, still wary as Janus shuffles across the floor. Before he makes it all the way there, he tugs off his gloves and stuffs them in his pocket.

“There,” he says quietly, wiggling his fingers to get used to it, “don’t want the fibers getting caught on anything.”

Logan’s wide-eyed stare tells him he knows why Janus really took the gloves off. Something Janus confirms a moment later.

“And I want you to know that I mean it.” He reaches forward. “Can I touch?”

Logan still flinches when Janus runs his thumb carefully over the cruel stitches sewing Logan’s mouth shut. He winces as he takes in how taut the thread is, how many stitches there are.

“Oh, Logan, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, “does it hurt very badly?”

Another miserable nod.

Then it clicks.

Logan.

The one who submits least to the Imagination. The one who tethers himself tightly to the fact that they are metaphysical, they are subjective, they need not subject themselves to real-world consequences of whatever nonsense the other Sides pull.

Logan still has the stitches.

It threatens to break Janus’s heart all over again.

“Oh, sweetie,” he murmurs, cupping Logan’s face and slipping his glasses to the top of his head, “I’ve hurt you more than this, haven’t I?”

For indeed, if Logan is too upset to remember how to pull himself out of turns of phrase, then the poor thing is distraught.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, gently wiping away Logan’s tears, “it’s okay, sweetie, I’m not going to hurt you, it’s over, I’m not angry, I’m going to take care of you.”

And oh, the way Logan pushes shyly into his hands feels warm.

“Does this help, sweetie, is this alright?” At Logan’s nod, he moves, tucking Logan’s legs across his lap with his other hands. “Come here, yes—that’s it, shh, I’ve got you, you just focus on me.”

Logan’s eyes fall closed and a muffled whimper comes from his throat.

“I’ve got you, sweetie, I’m right here,” Janus murmurs, still cupping the poor thing’s head as it leans into him, “shh, shh, let’s get you a little calmer before we have a look, okay?”

Logan gives a huff of ‘what do you think I’m trying to do?’

“I know you know that, sweetie,” he chuckles, lifting Logan’s head to gently knock their foreheads together, “you’re clever. Our resident brain cell.”

He wraps one hand around the back of his neck.

“It’s just like what you taught us, remember? Object impermanence. This won’t last forever. I’m right here. You were so brave, you are so brave, so wonderful, so sweet…just give yourself time, sweetie, it’s okay.”

Logan relaxes a little in his hold as he keeps talking quietly. The poor thing gets over his hesitation and buries his face shamelessly in the crook of Janus’s neck.

“Shh, shh, that’s it, sweetie, easy now—“ Janus cradles him as he sets his glasses out of the way— “I’ve got you. I’m right here, sweetie, I’ve got you. It’s almost over, now, you can do it, shh.”

Another muffled noise from Logan.

“You’re not easily replaceable,” Janus says firmly, “you’re not unwanted. You’re not a joke, the others know how much you care about them, how much you help them, how important they are to you, how important you are to them.”

He tilts his head to press a kiss to Logan’s temple.

“How important you are to me.”

The golden light dims, sputters, and vanishes.

“…sweetie?”

Logan pulls back, carefully rubbing his fingers over his stitch-free mouth. He opens and closes a few times.

“Ouch.”

“Are you alright, sweet? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“I know,” Logan says quietly, “I’m sorry too. That…escalated very quickly. I did not mean the things I said either.”

He squints.

“Oh, here—“ Janus passes him his glasses.

“Thank you. But that’s not why I—what were we arguing about, to begin with?”

Janus huffs a laugh. “I had been meaning to ask you that question.”

“Well, whatever it is, it must not have been very important.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry too,” Logan repeats after that pause, “you are not just a villain, you are not incompetent, and you…you are not to blame for everything that has gone wrong.”

Janus chucks him lightly under the chin. “Neither are you.”

“I know that, intellectually, and yet…somehow, it remains difficult for me to grasp.”

“Because even though you’re Logic, sweetie,” Janus says, “you’re Thomas’s Logic.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because Thomas is, frankly, something of a dumbass.”

It startles a laugh out of him at any rate.

“I mean, that also makes you a dumbass.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly aware.”

Logan’s smile is wonderful. “What is it that Roman is quite fond of saying?”

“That he’s pure of heart, dumb of ass?”

“That’s is.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“It is.” Logan frowns. “Even if he’s far more intelligent than he gets credit for.”

Janus nudges him. “I hope you know that you can be big of brain and dumb of ass at the same time.”

“Ah. I see.”

There’s another moment of silence as they reflect on what’s been said. Then Logan nervously adjusts his tie.

“Speaking of Roman…”

“I was about to say.” Janus gives his knee a pat. “Shall we see if we can find him?”

“I believe his business in the Imagination should be done.” They help each other to stand, Logan keeping a grip on Janus’s sleeve. “Should we check his room first?”

“I think so.”

Roman, of course, swings open the door with a cheerful greeting, the role of the pompous prince firmly in place until he takes in their tear-stained faces and he melts, dropping the act almost immediately.

“Oh, my darlings,” he coos, cupping each of their faces in a hand, “what’s the matter? Why do you look so upset?”

“May we come in, please?” Indeed, poor Logan looks as if he’s about to melt into Roman’s arms. Janus can’t talk, though, he’s about to do the same.

“Of course, come on, let’s get you sat down—“

Roman bustles about the room, fetching them a glass of water, sitting on his bed with them, almost bursting into tears himself when he hears what’s happened and promptly telling them they’re going to spend the rest of the day right here, in comfy clothes, watching ridiculously obscure documentaries until Patton and Remus call them down for dinner. They keep a hand on each other at all times, laughing at Janus’s snarky responses to awful narrators, Logan’s quick corrections when the information is out of date, and Roman’s impersonations of the strange wildlife. Roman’s room is pleasantly noisy and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

He doesn’t remember how it started, but he will always remember how it ended.

Curled around each other, in the warmth and safety of the people who care about him.

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smellslikemultifandomimagines · 4 years ago

Text

sex dreams (smut) || jason todd (titans)

Summary: you woke up from a sex dream about jason. unable to fall back asleep, you go to him for help.

warning / additional tags: fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), teasing, penetrative sex, rough sex, light choking, kind of a sir kink??, asking permission to cum.

word count: 2,537

(gif credit)

I wake up suddenly; panting with hair sticking to my forehead and neck from sweat. A dull and needy ache can be felt between my legs and my underwear is soaked. Sitting up, I reach for my drink bottle and take a massive gulp, still processing the events of my dream. It was of Jason. Arrogant, impulsive Jason Todd.

My hands fist around the sheets in front of me as he held my hips up. Jason’s slamming into me from behind, grunting with each rough thrust. His hand snuck around my hips and his fingers circled my clit in such a way that made my pussy clench tightly around his cock. god, he felt so good.

“Jason, fuck! Yes!” I whimper, feeling him thrust harder.

I change out of my pj's, which had become wet from the sweat that is still dripping off my body, into an oversized shirt. I change into fresh underwear and scroll through the apps on my phone, hoping it’ll coax me back to sleep.

It didn’t.

Locking my phone, I place it back on the bedside table and close my eyes, using the ‘counting sheep’ trick. nope. didn’t work either. My mind wanders back to Jason and the dream. The way his hands gripped harshly at my hips. The way he drove his cock so deep and good into my pussy. God. My pussy throbs at a needy pace; desperate for someone - him - to touch it. I need to see him.

Hesitantly, I crawl out of bed. Legs trembling as I reached my bedroom door. why is he making me nervous? I’ve never felt like this about Jason before. Shaking my head as I rid the ridiculousness off me, I tiptoe down to his room. I knock on the door and a soft ‘come in’ could be heard. Jason’s lamp that is on his bedside table is the only thing illuminating the room. His back is resting against the headboard, with one ankle crossed over the other. the record player is spinning a Hozier record. Never would’ve pegged him as the Hozier type - but here we are.

“can’t sleep either?” he chuckles, closing the comic book he was reading. I nod in response, hoping to god he can’t sense my nervousness - or desperation.

“Come sit,” he nods to his bed. I squint my eyes at him cautiously.

“what?” he chuckles again, crossing his arms over his chest in slight amusement.

“I'm surprised you haven’t made a snarky comment about me visiting you late at night,” I said.

Jason laughs a breathy laugh, an eyebrow cocking up at me in further entertainment. He always found entertainment in teasing me. “no, I was waiting until you at least sat on the bed first.”

I roll my eyes and sat cross-legged on his bed a few inches from him. Jason shuffles in his spot, uncrossing his arms and placing them on his lap. He keeps eye contact with me, watching as my fingers twiddle with the hem of my shirt.

“So why’re you visiting me? you never just ‘visit me’, let alone late at night.”

“I-” I pause, trying to come up with a plausible answer. Obviously, I wasn’t going to tell him a had a fucking sex dream about him. “You make me bored enough to fall asleep.” I tease.

“Damn ouch,” Jason places a hand over his chest, pretending to be offended. We both laugh. This is probably one of the most sentimental moments I think I’ve ever had with Jason ever since I joined the titans.

“Can I tell you something?” Jason says after a moment of silence between us. I nod cautiously, unsure of what he’s gonna say. That’s the thing with Jason; you don’t know what he’s gonna say. “I don’t actually hate you, you know that right?”

“I don’t hate you either; you’re just fun to tease,” I giggle. Jason’s lips twitch into a sheepish smile as he rolls his head to the side. A cute chuckle slips from his lips again.

“Same could be said about you,” the glimmer in his eyes makes my heart beat faster, and suddenly, I’m nervous again. He leans over to place his comic book on his bedside table before he shuffles closer to me. Our knees are touching and the air just got hotter.

“Can I?” he whispers, eyes flickering down to my lips. Without wasting another moment, my hand comes up to cup his cheek and pull him forward to close the gap between us. He’s shocked at first, but after a few seconds, his lips moves in sync with mine.

“Wait,” Jason mumbles, pulling away. “this isn’t a one-time thing, right?”

“Maybe, maybe not. let’s just see where this goes first,” I respond, leaning in to kiss his soft lips again. He kisses me hungrily, pulling me into his lap.

“Wait, wait I’m confused,” Jason pants, pulling his lips away from mine again. His eyebrows knit together, but his hands snake up my thighs and grip at my hips. “you’ve never shown even an ounce of interest towards me, why now?”

“I guess sex dreams really change your perception of someone,” I shrug, feeling my toes and spine tingle as he slides his hands up my shirt slightly.

“oh, so this is what this is?” Jason’s all-too-familiar cocky and arrogant ego is back. “you, miss [y/n]: the ‘i hate Jason because he’s such an asshole and I��m so much better than him’ [y/n] had a sex dream about me? and now you want me to fuck you like I fucked you in that dream of yours?”

“well are you going to or not?” I challenge, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck.

“Not until you admit that you wanted me all along.” Jason's hands work to take my shirt off, an audible gasp leaves his lips as he notices I’m not wearing a bra. His dark eyes stare longingly into mine, waiting for me to say the words.

“fine, I wanted you all along, happy?” I roll my eyes, feeling the ache in between my legs growing needier. Jason grips my waist and flips me over, his hands sliding up to pin my hands over my head.

“say it like you mean it or I’m leaving,” his hot breath fans across my face. Leaning up, I manage to capture his lips with mine.

“fuck, I’ve always wanted you, Jason Todd,” I mumble against his lips. Jason lets go of my wrists, letting one hand drop to my hips and the other to the side of my head to hold himself up. His lips detach from mine once again but kiss a path down to my neck. A whine slips from my lips as I buck my hips against his sweatpants-covered crotch. He chuckles against my skin before sucking gently on the mellowness of my neck. Reaching my hand down to grab his hand, I place it on my breast. His groans out a ‘fuck’ and squeezes my breast gently, his breathing becoming heavier as he hears the gasp escape from my lips. My head rolls back further into the pillows and my hips grind up against him once again. J trails kisses down from my neck to the other breast, taking my nipple into his mouth before sucking on it in the most pleasurable way.

“shit,” I moan out, tangling my hands in his hair. Jason’s hand travels down my body, his fingertips grazing over my skin so delicately, it makes me want to melt. They rest on my underwear, twisting the fabric between his fingers as he laps his tongue over my nipple.

“please, J,” I whimper, rolling my hips against his crotch again. Getting the message, he pulls my underwear down my legs at such an insufferable slow rate, I was so tempted to just take them off myself. “fuck, baby,” Jason whispers as he sits back on his knees in between my legs. “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“what, get in my pants?” I tease, propping myself up on my elbows.

“no, stupid,” J laughs, arms planting on either side of my body so he could lean on them as he kisses me. This kiss is different. More passionate. More delicate. “I meant what I said before. I’ve always liked you.”

“Then why be mean if-”

“because this stuff scares me,” he cuts me off. I capture his lips with mine again.

“It scares me too,” I whisper against him. He kisses me again, and I take this as an opportunity to lift his shirt up. J rests on his knees as he takes his shirt off, his eyes trailing down to my exposed pussy.

“can I?” he asks. I nod and watch closely as he shuffles down the bed before laying in between my legs. His warm hands push my thighs apart and he flicks a finger up my folds, watching as I bite my lip and close my eyes. Jason presses his tongue against my clit, swirling it around and gaining more confidence as he hears my soft moans. He begins sucking at my clit, alternating between sucking and swirling his tongue around; completely indulging himself in the taste of me.

“Jace,” I moan, rolling my hips against his face as my hands tangle in his hair. He lets out a grunt as I pull at the strands, the vibrations running over my clit making me moan loudly. Clasping a hand over my mouth, I muffle my moans in case anyone could hear. Jason chuckles at me, pulling away to kiss my inner thighs before toying with my entrance.

“Jace, please,” I beg, my other hand moving from his hair to the sheets. I gasp as his finger slides in with ease. He thrusts it slowly at first, but as he adds another finger, the pace grew faster and harder. His tongue goes back to work on my clit; circling and sucking at my clit, which only made me whimper and moan into my hand in pleasure.

“shit, Jason, I-”

“gonna cum for me?” he groans, fingers curling at the spot that made me clench around him.

“mhm,” I moan, biting my bottom lip to muffle my moans even more. Jason groans against my clit, the vibrations sending me into complete overdrive. My vision goes white as I cum on his fingers, an audible moan can be heard from him too as he feels my walls pulse around his fingers.

“Oh my god,” I whimper as I come down from my high. Jason carefully took his fingers out and began sucking on them, moaning at the sweetness of my taste. It doesn’t take long for us to discard his sweatpants and boxers, our lips crashing together in messy kisses. I flip him over and straddle his hips, leaning down to kiss his neck.

“baby,” he breathes, hands gripping tightly on my hips. I hum against his neck as I suck on the skin, a mark I’m sure will be visible tomorrow. His hard cock can be felt again my thigh, a whine passes his lips as I graze my pussy over it.

“don’t tease me,” Jason groans. I ignore him and teasingly grind my wet pussy against him, feeling his cock twitch underneath me. Fed up with my teasing, J flips me over and reaches over to his bedside table. He opens the drawer and pulls out a condom.

“damn, aren’t you prepared,” I chuckle in amusement.

“Yeah, well you never know,” J winks. Lining himself up at my entrance, he pushes in slowly. I gasp and claw at his back. Jason groans against the crook of my neck before kissing the delicate skin. His thrusts are slow, and he’s careful not to hurt me.

“Jason,” I whine, rolling my head back against the pillows. He thrusts faster and become needier with each roll of his hips. A hand snakes down and grips at my hips as he rocks into me. He moans quietly, pressing his forehead to mine as he looks down. J watches as his cock disappears deep into my pussy and it makes him moan even louder.

“Shh, pretty boy. Don’t want the others to hear, don’t we?” I moan quietly, raking my nails down his back as he thrusts harder. He sits upon his knees and fucks me faster. Jason’s hand tightens on my hips while the other comes down to wrap around my neck.

“Oh my god,” I whimper as quietly as I could. The bed squeaks with each rock of his hips, and neither of us cared anymore.

“you like that? you like being choked?” Jason grunts, hips slowing into hard, but agonisingly slow, thrusts.

“fuck yes,” I moan. “faster, please, J.”

Jason complies and starts fucking into me again; so hard that the headboard started to bang against the wall. My hand snakes down from my hold on my breasts to my clit and just as I start to rub circles, the hand that was previously on my hips swipes my hand away.

“This pussy is mine, do you understand me?”

“yes sir,” I whimper out.

“Sir? fuck that’s hot,” Jason moans. His hand rubs rapid circles around my clit, making my back arch and fists ball into the sheets. His cock is hitting all the right places in my pussy, and he just makes me want to scream his name in pleasure.

“[y/n], oh my god,” he moans out, moving both hands to my hips. The new angle causes me to clasp a hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming. Jason could sense this, so he removes my hand crashes his lips onto mine. His thrusts slow as we kiss, and a whine leaves my lips as he pulls away.

“look at you, so needy for me,” Jason grunts as he feels himself twitch inside me. His fingers begin to circle my clit again, and the knot that has been building in my stomach feels like it could snap at any moment.

“fuck, Jace, can I come? please can I come?” I plead. Jason hovers over me again and presses light kisses on my neck.

“cum for me, baby girl,” he moans into the crook of my neck. he fucks into me faster and harder; the wall taking it harder from the bed frame again.

“I- fuck!” I whimper as I cum around his cock.

“oh my god, [y/n],” Jason groans, his fingernails digging harshly into the skin of my hips as he sloppily thrusts into me while he chases his own high.

“come on, pretty boy. You gonna cum for me?” I moan, scratching my nails down his back. J lets out a loud groan into the crook of my neck as he rocks his hips into me.

“fuck, oh- fuck,” he moans as he cums, his breathing becomes uneven as he releases into me. He pulls out and disposes of the condom before collapsing next to me.

“fuck me that was so much better than the dream,” I chuckle as he pulls the sheets up over our naked and exhausted bodies.

“damn hope so,” he laughs in response.

━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━

Jason todd sleepover!

#jason todd #jason todd titans #titans #titans imagine #titans smut #jason todd sleepover #fuck this even got me wet just writing this damn #also sorry if this sucks a bit im literally so sleep deprived lmao #also i dont proof read so if theres any mistakes just ignore them aha #jason todd smut #jason todd imagine

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

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Pain Is For The Living [Javier Peña x F!Reader] - Chapter 3

Summary: Sex work in the heat of 1980’s Colombia was never going to be a walk in the park. Especially not when you had a crush on your number one client, agent Javier Peña. You’d been warned about him and his reputation, but after one very specific incident that would change your life forever, you find yourself attached to him like never before and you’d do anything to make him yours. Even if it means endangering your own life.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Javier being kind of an asshole, allusions to sex, a ~moment~ in the bathtub, mention of PTSD and trauma, food mention, drink mention, ...feelings?

Word count: 4200

Author’s Note: It’s been so long! I’m sorry. It’s been pretty hectic and I’ve been doing my best to wrap up my other series’ and complete requests. I appreciate you all for sticking around and asking for updates on this chapter. I’ve mentioned it a few times, but PIFTL is very difficult to write. It deals with very sensitive issues and so not only can it be mentally draining to write, it takes a lot of time to research and edit. I won’t give up on this series though. I adore this story and can’t wait to share it all with you.

Pain Is For The Living Masterlist

* Reblogs appreciated and my ko-fi is linked in my bio if you wish to support my writing!

Nina pushed off Javi quicker than a bullet leaving a gun, grabbing a blanket from her bed and wrapping it around her naked body. “What the fuck Javier?” she spat.

Jesus Christ -- Javier had never made that mistake before. Moaning someone else’s name? He was better than that. It took him a moment to just process what happened, Nina’s yelling and accusations only a blur in the background. “Who is she, Javier?” Nina questioned, her tone venomous. That was enough to snap the agent out of his thoughts. Her cold eyes burned like wildfire as she glared at him. “Who. Is. She?”

“Uh…” Javier racked his brains to try and figure out a way he’d be able to save this situation. But the longer he took to answer Nina’s question, the more infuriated she got. “Informant.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie. You’d agreed to help him. But whether or not you’d actually be able to provide Javier with any relevant information was a different ordeal in itself.

“You’re still sleeping with your informants?” Nina gasped a little, clicking her tongue and shaking her head in disappointment. “Why am I not surprised?”

Javier sighed and rolled his eyes, pulling himself off Nina’s bed and grabbing his denim jeans that had been previously discarded on the floor. “C’mon Ni, don’t get jealous now. We haven’t been together for like, a year.” Javier hummed, zipping up his pants. His eyes darted around the room as he tried to locate his shirt. Maybe there was no fixing this. For a split second, he’d forgotten why things had ended with Nina, but now it was becoming clear again. He just had to get outta there. He needed air, and a smoke.

“I let you cum inside of me and you moan out another woman’s name!” Nina exclaimed, shaking her fists in the air. “Javier Peña I fucking hate you!”

Javier offered Nina a small shrug of his shoulders before finding his shirt and buttoning it up. “I’ll see you around Ni.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Called him seventeen times Con, he’s taking the piss.” Steve grimaced, aggressively flicking to the next page of the Bogotá local newspaper.

“Will you just calm down? He’s our friend. We’re doing him a favour. He'll be back soon,” Connie sighed, glancing back over to you, where you had been sleeping on the sofa for the past two and a half hours. “She sleeps better than our Liv,” Connie noted. “Wish we could sleep as well as that.”

Steve hummed in agreement. “I’ll go check on Liv.” He announced at the mention of his daughter. He’d put her down for a nap about an hour ago in Javier’s bedroom.

“No honey, I’ll go. You keep working on your crossword,” Connie giggled before pointing her index finger into one of the blank squares. “Fourteen down: Los huevos revueltos.”

“I would’ve got that,” Steve huffed, scrambling to write the answer down. He definitely would not have. The Spanish puzzle was made for infants and yet he was still struggling.

“Whatever Murph.” Connie rolled her eyes, leaving the table where they were both sitting at.

The second she left the room, you woke up in a cold sweat, feeling dizzy and shaking from a nightmare you didn’t want to remember. Your cheeks were wet, tear stained and goose pimples pricked at your arms. You checked your surroundings in a fluster, not recognising the brown leather couch you were laying on, or the oak wood coffee table in front of you, or even the television pushed against the cream coloured walls. A man with blonde hair and mustache raced over to you, and dropped to his knees, holding you by your shoulders.

“Are you okay?” The man quizzed, his blue eyes searching to meet yours. You were horrified, the feeling of an unfamiliar man grabbing you like this. You screamed in terror, and defensively dug your fingernails into his skin. The man yelped out and stumbled back from you, hitting the coffee table in the process. “Fuck-- shit-- ow--” He gasped. “Connie!” he called. “Connie, she's awake!”

The way he yelled and screamed your name... it was like you were some kind of monster. You hated it.

The sound of footsteps padding into the living room alerted you, and a woman, not much older than you, knelt down in front of you. But unlike the man, she knew well enough to keep her distance. “Hi sweetheart, are you alright? I’m Connie, don’t be afraid. You’re okay.” she assured you, her voice sweet like honey.

“Where am I?” you choked out, tears filling your eyes.

Connie hesitated for a moment. “She doesn’t remember where she is?” Steve asked Connie with concern, scratching the back of his neck as he pulled himself together and shuffled over to you. Taking a note out of Connie’s book, he kept his distance. Connie briefly explained to her husband how your behaviour right now actually made a lot of sense, and how victims of PTSD can often have ‘memory blanks’.

“Darling, I’m Connie Murphy. I’m a nurse. And this is my husband Steve. Steve is DEA. He’s friends with Javier Peña. You know that name, right? Javier Peña.” She repeated his name slow and steady, allowing you to take your time to process the words. Javier Peña. Just like that, a wave of calmness washed over you. His name felt like home. It felt like safety.

“I know Javi.” you whispered in admittance, shuffling around on the sofa. You could feel your lips trembling. It was strange. You were new to Bogotá, and you didn’t really have any friends, other than the late Rosa. And well, Javier too. He was a client, sure, but he was always kind and gentle with you, unlike your other customers. You’d like to think of him as a friend. Right now, he was the only person you had.

“This is Javier’s place. He’s going to watch over you for a little while, okay?” Connie explained. “We are your friends and we’re not going to hurt you. I promise,” the lady soothed. She turned to Steve. “Bring over Olivia.”

“What-- why?” Steve quizzed, his eyebrows furrowing together in bewilderment.

“She needs to know she can trust us. Bring over Olivia,” Begrudgingly following his wife’s instruction, a wary Steve stood up and padded into Javier’s bedroom where Olivia had been left to sleep in a small, transportable crib. He picked up his daughter and carried her into the living room. “This is my daughter Olivia,” Connie told you quietly, smoothing out Olivia’s black hair. “She’s one year old. Would you like to hold her?”

“Connie are you fucking crazy?” Steve snapped.

“I’m a fucking nurse Steve, I know what I’m doing.” Connie hissed back, taking Olivia from her father. She looked back over to you and her deep frown turned into a comforting smile as she slowly handed you the baby. Connie’s hands never left Olivia, and she made an effort to support her head as you cradled the sleeping baby in your arms.

Holding Olivia Murphy gave you a feeling of responsibility. If Steve and Connie were dangerous, they would never have shown you their daughter, let alone allow you to hold her in your arms. You contemplated everything and although it was hard, you decided that you probably could trust them. Still, it raised the question: “Where is Javi?”

Steve shook his head incredulously and stood up, grabbing the phone from one of the side tables and dialling his partner’s number again. You didn’t know what was wrong with the blonde haired agent, but you got the impression that he did not want to be here.

“Steve is going to call him, again. He went to get groceries. I’m sure he won’t be long.” Connie informed softly, and you nodded your head.

“Your baby is adorable,” you announced quietly and Connie smiled, thankful you were beginning to talk a little more. Seemingly, you’d calmed down, which meant Connie’s comforting approach had worked.

“She’s a real gem, isn’t she?”

Javier was just a couple of blocks away when his carphone began to ring. He eyed up the display and read the ‘17 missed calls’, cursing under his breath. He clicked the accept button and continued to drive.

“Javier Peña. You prick.”

“Hi bestie.” Javier grinned, shaking his head at Steve’s introduction. Typical.

“You left us here for three fucking hours with some random girl -- who, by the way, is incredibly unstable, Javier. I don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, but I’m not here for it. Where the fuck have you been? No, forget that. You better be home in the next ten minutes and you better have the ingredients for my fucking paella.” Steve growled before angrily slamming the phone down on the hook.

Javier couldn’t help but chuckle. Steve Murphy was ever the drama queen.

As he drove down the street, he made one final attempt to shrug off what had happened with Nina. Okay, yeah, saying your name was a little uncalled for. But she always got so needy and possessive -- even when she had no reason to be. Nina and Javier weren’t exclusive and hadn’t been for a long time, so, what was her deal?

What was even more concerning to Javi, was the fact he said your name in the first place. Nina looked rather similar to you. Not identical, but from a distance, there was a chance she could’ve been mistaken. Only, when he was pounding into her from behind, he wasn’t at a distance. In fact he couldn’t have been any closer, and yet he still said your name. He was really struggling to justify it.

Sure, he’d been thinking about you when he was inside of her. But was that really so bad? You were clearly on his mind, and Javier just pinned that down to the fact he’d been out all day investigating the crime scene at the brothel. He’d been with you, he’d held you and comforted you. Fuck, even before noon he had been fucking your mouth. It wasn’t exactly unreasonable…

But moaning out your name… shit, could Javier really get past that? Was there any way to justify that -- other than the blatant and glaring honest reason that Javier refused to admit. He wouldn’t even let his mind go there. Whatever, it was fine. He was home now. The end of a long day.

Javier grabbed the groceries from the back of his car and buzzed himself into the DEA apartment block where he and Steve were living. Making his way over to his apartment, he opened the front door and set the brown paper bag of ingredients down on the kitchen counter. When he got home, Connie was just finishing up painting your nails a beautiful sea blue gel colour. She turned around and she looked up at Javier. Your eyes, however, were already fixated on him the second he entered the room.

“Where’s Steve?” Javier asked, diverting his gaze from the two women and continuing to unpack the food.

“He went home. He’s pissed, Javi.” Connie admitted, shaking her head in annoyance and placing the pot of nail polish on the coffee table. She walked into the open space kitchen and nudged the agent.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Javier muttered, stacking the canned goods into a cupboard.

“I’m going home, but don’t think we’ve forgotten about the paella. Steve wants that fucking paella,” Connie chastised. Javier nodded his head but remained silent as he emptied his bag of shopping. “Unbelievable.” Connie scoffed incredulously, and opened the front door before slamming it behind her.

“Thanks Con!” Javier called, but there was no telling if she even heard.

Javier was half way through putting his shopping away when he heard your meek and softly spoken voice call his name in a questioning tone. His dark eyes looked over at you. You were sitting upright on the sofa and his face softened. Stopping what he was doing, he neglected the bag of groceries and padded into the living room to sit down next to you.

“Hi.” Javier murmured, crossing his legs and adjusting the crochet blanket that was covering your lap.

“Hi.” you replied, feeling somewhat shy and slightly nervous, for a reason you couldn’t quite place.

“How are you feeling?” Javier asked, bringing himself to look at you.

“Um,” you fumbled at the blanket and thought for a moment. It was a loaded question. Other than the overwhelming feeling of distress and helplessness, you decided to give the agent a simple answer. “Well rested. A little thirsty.”

Javier nodded. “How would you feel about taking a bath?”

You swallowed back a knot in your throat that you hadn’t even realised was there in the first place. “...Do I smell?” you asked, You stretched out and gave your underarms a sniff, prompting Javier to burst out into laughter. Shit, had you always been that adorable? Your nose scrunched up at the distinct smell of dried up blood on your clothes and your shoulders slumped sadly. Javi, noticing your change in demeanor, gently lifted up the blanket and wrapped it around your body.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he cooed. “Believe me, I get stinky too. It happens. Let me help you take a bath. Come with me.”

Taking his hand, Javier navigated you towards the bathroom. It was a small boxy room with barely any space to move around, and yet, to your surprise, it fit a bathtub. Javier twisted the faucet, and the tap began to run warm water. He picked up a bottle of bubble bath and a tub of salts. “I have a bad back,” Javier told you. “These salts really help me relax. And the bubbles are nice too.”

You nodded with a smile. As he emptied the contents into the tub, you watched the products swirl into a colourful abyss. “It smells like you.” you uttered, without really thinking about the weight of your words. Javier said nothing, and you both sat by the side of the tub in comfortable silence, watching as it filled up. He occasionally dipped his hand in the water, checking the temperature.

“Will you be okay?” Javier asked you, taking out a towel and folding it up on top of the toilet seat.

You weren’t really sure, but you nodded your head anyway. Just as he was about to leave, you spoke up again. “Actually, Javi, could you stay?”

Javier fumbled a little but smiled. “Yeah, of course.”

Javier had seen you naked countless times due to the nature of your job but for some reason, this time, it felt different. He’d never had a woman use his bathtub before, let alone be requested to stay in her presence as she got undressed and stepped inside. You slipped out of your sultry, blood stained dress and let it pool to the floor. Javi’s mouth parted as he took in your naked form under the amber tinted bathroom lights.

You stepped inside the tub and almost slipped over, but Javier, as quick as lightning, grabbed your arm and steadied you. “Sorry,” he muttered, and your hand slid into his. As your fingers interlocked, you felt something. It was like a bolt of electricity, running up your arm, and judging by Javier’s reaction, he could feel it too. “I should’ve warned you. It can be a little slippery.”

You giggled and tried to tear yourself from Javi’s grip, but he didn’t let go of you once. Instead, he helped you sit down comfortably amongst the bubbles and aromatic hot water. You moaned, feeling your body become indulged and your muscles soften. You smiled and laid back, the bubbles fizzing around your neck and chin, and Javier felt his heart swell in his chest as he noticed your lips curl into a smile. It was the smile he would kill to see, and he hadn’t even realised how much he missed it.

“Just relax,” Javier soothed. “I’ll be back faster than you can count to ten.”

Javier ran into the kitchen and took a glass from one of the cupboards before racing back to the bathroom. Kneeling down by the side of the tub, he dipped the glass into the water, filling it up, and gently emptied it down your hair.

“Close your eyes,” he requested, continuing to wet your hair ample enough until it was ready to be shampooed. Taking the bottle of his musky scented shampoo, Javier squirted the thick liquid into your scalp and began to massage it in. You couldn’t believe how gentle he was, and how he was taking his time with you. You’d never in a million years imagine Javier Peña being like this, or acting this intimate, with any woman -- especially not you. To be honest, his own behaviours were even coming to shock Javier. But he just let his instincts take over. He wanted to protect you and make sure you knew just how safe you were. That was the most important thing on his mind.

Once he rinsed your hair, he grabbed some soap and a sponge, handing them to you. “Do you uh-- uh-- do you think you can wash your own body?” He asked, his dark eyebrows knitting together. “If not, that’s okay. I can help. But--”

You smiled and rested a wet hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay Javi. I’ll be fine.” you promised, taking the sponge from him.

“I’m going to find you some clothes to change into.” He told you. “Shout if you need me. I won’t be long.”

And he stuck by his word. Javier raked through his drawers and picked out a pale yellow button down shirt that he hadn’t worn in a few years and a pair of boxer shorts. Padding back into the bathroom, he presented you with them. “It’s not much but it’s all I have,” he told you. “I’m sure Con will take you out shopping at some point. Or we can hop on back to your place tomorrow to grab some of your stuff,” You smiled and stood up, making sure to be careful not to slip this time. Javier held out the towel for you and wrapped you in it. “I’ll leave you to get dried.”

When Javier went back into the kitchen, he figured he should put the rest of the groceries away, only to notice that the once frozen paella ingredients had become defrosted and been rendered completely useless. “Shit.” Javier cursed, pushing them to one side and running a hand through his hair. Looks like after all of this, he couldn’t make paella tonight. He knew he was about to get an earful from Steve at work tomorrow.

“Do you like pizza?” Javier called, rummaging around for a take-out menu and grabbing his phone from the counter.

“I do!” you called back, buttoning up Javier’s shirt and wrapping a towel around your head.

When you padded into the kitchen, dressed in Javi’s clothes, the agent felt his throat dry up. You were a sight to behold. You smelt distinctly like him, but you already looked one thousand times better now that you were clean and comfortable. You felt better, too. It was amazing what a bath could do to you. You shimmied onto one of the bar stools Javier kept by the counter and rest your elbows against the laminate. Javier passed you the menu so you could look over the dishes.

You agreed on a simple chilli pizza, which was one of Javier’s favourites anyway. Javi called the deli and asked for a large, planning on sharing it with you. Remembering that you’d mentioned you were thirsty, he poured you a glass of water and handed it your way.

“Steve is gonna be so mad at me tomorrow,” Javier chuckled, rubbing his temple. You peeked up from the glass that you nursed and looked up at him through your eyelashes. “I promised him paella and I’m not gonna be able to make it tonight. Not only that but he’s gonna ask me where I’ve been. He’ll know I wasn’t out getting groceries for three hours.”

You furrowed your eyebrows together and tilted your head. “Three hours? Where were you?”

Javier paused and absent-mindedly brushed a finger along his mustache. “I bumped into an ex at the store. Went back to her place and-- you know.”

Your eyes fell back into your glass of water. “Oh.”

Javier picked at his short fingernails and another sigh left his lips. “Shit, I just--” he shook his head. “Made a mistake. A very big mistake.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Yeah, that would probably be for the best but how could he even begin to tell you what happened, when you were part of the problem? Javier figured it might even scare you away. “It doesn’t matter… she’s just…” Javier scratched his head. “She’s fine. It’s a ‘me’ problem, I think.”

The doorbell rang and Javier was grateful for the interruption. He paid the pizza delivery guy and sent the stone bake on the table.

“It looks good,” you smiled. “I’ve never had Colombian pizza.”

Javier’s jaw dropped. “You--?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Dulzura, how long have you lived here?”

“A month,” you grinned, with a mouthful of pizza. “Tastes good.”

After you’d finished eating, it had gotten pretty late. You and Javier exchanged small talk, learning little things about each other. You liked it a lot. He had always been an enigma to you, and even though he offered little information, it was still something, and you appreciated that a lot.

“It’s been a difficult day,” Javier noted, folding the pizza box and throwing it away to be recycled. “You should take my bed.”

“No,” you insisted. “I’m fine on the sofa. Honestly.”

Javier sighed. “I’m not going to let you sleep on the sofa any longer. You’ll get back ache.”

“Then I’ll just use your bath salts.” You smirked in retaliation. Javier laughed and you relished the way small crinkles appeared in the corner of his honey coloured eyes.

“Please, take my bed.” Javier said, staring at you pointedly. His eyebrows were raised and his strong arms were crossed over his chest.

You were about to argue further but truthfully, sleeping in a bed tonight sounded like exactly what you needed. You took a few steps closer to Javier, a pool of butterflies swirling in your stomach as you broke any distance between you both. You wanted to kiss his lips so desperately, taste him once again. It was only earlier today you’d had your lips wrapped around his cock, and yet, so much had happened in between then and now. You wondered if Javier was thinking about it too.

“Get some sleep, hermosa.”

Your eyes were completely trained on his soft pink lips. You wanted to kiss-- you just wanted to kiss him. Just one kiss. Just one-- you leaned in and shut your eyes, and neared him, closer and closer... but Javier stepped away.

And you felt your heart shatter in your chest.

“Nothing personal,” he told you. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Nothing personal? How were you meant to accept that? You had literally sucked him off just a few hours ago and now he wouldn’t even grace you with a kiss? Maybe Rosa was right; you shouldn’t form crushes on clients. Especially not Javier Peña. You’d only get hurt. You tugged on the sleeves of his button down shirt and balled your fingers into a fist, trying to ignore the pain in your chest.

Without uttering a word, not even a ‘goodnight’, you sulked away and into his bedroom.

Javier wanted to shout out. He didn’t want you to be mad at him, or even upset. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. It took him all the strength he could muster to deny you of that kiss. Your perfect lips looked so soft and delicate and if Javier could have it his way, he would’ve taken you in that very moment.

But you were more than just a sex worker now. You were a compliance in the hunt to catch Escobar -- and he had to be careful. No matter what, he couldn’t risk losing track of the bigger picture.

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

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viking-raider · 4 years ago

Text

Seals of the Lost - Prelude

Summary: An Order of Riders in the East and West, united in keeping the World harmonious, is fractured by greed and corruption. The survivors go into hiding to protect the world from the evil that wants to destroy it and rule all. But, nothing remains lost.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 7,648

Rating: PG - Language, Violence and Death, World-Building, Mythology, Lore, Magic, Historical and Modern Fiction

Inspiration: A mash-up of several movies and books I've seen and read.

Author's Note: Thanks to @wondersofdreaming for her support and encouragement and @firefly-graphics for the divider.

Tag List Blog: @viking-raider-taglist

Once, in bygone millennia, two groups and majestic creatures lived in true harmony with one another, and did for many centuries.

They had always been harmonious, the East and the West, even separated by the vast ocean between them, like they were. Both cultures took great pride in caring for the majestic creatures that inhabited the world with them. Even though in the beginning, when the creatures first appeared, it was not that way.

At first, the sightings were brushed off as nothing more than crack stories of drunks and attention seekers. But, more and more of them came in, then the first attacks started happening. Whole villages burned to the ground, all across the East and West, no side was shown special exception or spared; countless people displaced and killed.

Before, one man, Edward Williams, the East's best tracker, managed to follow one of the creatures back to its lair. But, when Edward sneaked inside, he found an entire world inside the earth, filled with every type, size and shape of the creatures, more than any of his people, East or West, could ever have imagined.

The creatures easily outnumbered all of the humans outside of their world-like cave, and it scared the life out of Edward.

What he hadn't expected was one of the creatures appearing behind him as he spied them, from what he had believed to be a hidden vantage point. Edward was sure his life was forfeit as it stood over him, caging him in with it mountainous body, thick and frothy drool dripping from its snarling, scaly lips and dagger-sharp row of teeth, puffing foul and hot breath from its nostrils into his face, like the great heat of a blacksmith's forge or a venting volcano. Edward trembled, squeezing his eyes shut and mumbling a prayer to himself, giving himself his own last rites, and lifting hand to his face to cross himself, when he felt a very gentle touch against the side of his palm, and dared to crack open one of his eyes.

“Well.” He dared to croak out, his throat dry, as the creature eased back from him. “That was an interesting turn of events.” He mumbled, blinking at the creature, thunderstruck by the fact the creature didn't either eat him or roast him, like something on a spit over a fire.

He flexed his fingers and slowly reached out and and touched two fingers to the creature's face, felt what he could only describe as a purr and relaxed, throwing out all the knowledge and preconceived notions he had about them.

Yes, they had attacked, blackened villages and killed, but he felt there had to be a reason for why this was, and endeavored in finding out why. So, Edward Williams vanished inside the creature's underworld, protected by his new friend and in the years that followed he became one with the creatures that lived and thrived inside of it, until he emerged and returned to the world of his own kind, with his friend, who he had named, Mavy.

Then, with time and many trials, the people of the East and West became harmonious with the creatures, protecting and caring for them, each group, each culture having their own way of doing so. They revered them and the creatures returned that sentiment in the same gratitude and measure. Many of the humans bonded to the creatures, becoming linked together, like one mind inside two very different bodies, even allowing the humans to have gifts, becoming what was known as Riders.

But, like all things, especially things of good and harmony, it did not last.

“The bond between us and them is a bond that should not be corrupted!”

“Aye!

“Who do you think you are!? This is not what we stand for, Christos!”

“This isn't what you stand for!” Christos roared back, slamming his fist on the stone table before him. “And I am sick of your do-gooier ways. The rulers gain riches from Riders protecting their borders, lands and people, and from what?” He hissed, looking around the table. “There hasn't been a war, a skirmish, not even a riot, in nearly four hundred years!”

“That's because of us, Christos!” One of the others at the table with him sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, exhausted and exasperated with Christsos's pettiness. “We don't do it for the money or the glory. But the greater good and prosperity of the world around us.”

“Both worlds.” Another agreed, nodding his head. “For humans and them.”

“Not any longer.” Christos growled under his breath, glowering at the table. “I'm sick of it. I demand a Rider's right, so I can get what's right; payment for protecting these greedy men's lands.”

The men around the table looked at each other, surprised at his demand to have the right to their lifestyle, their occupation and what had been passed down to them through birth and proof of passage. The leader of the group, who had remained silent during the arguments, stood from his chair, letting out a heavy sigh and shook his head at Christos as he leaned his hands against the table.

“No, Christos.” He told him, plainly. “You have no birth right to be a Rider, and you have not proven yourself worthy to become one either. Your greed and anger is plain to see, and even if it was not now, I fear it would be not too far in the future, corrupting your bond as a Rider, and as the head of this Order, I can not allow that.” He spoke honestly, meeting Christos's furious brown eyes.

Christos jerked out a stiff finger, pointing to the head leader. “You will regret this, all of you will regret this, from this moment to the very ends of time and your bloodlines!” He threatened, spitting on the table, before spinning on his heels and storming out of the hall, with a determination that would fuel the flames and tides of the war that would fracture and splinter the East and West into the world as people know it, in current times.

The Order didn't take Christos's word as a threat, in the beginning that is.

He vanished off the map, not a whisper on the winds or from the other Order Houses about his movements throughout the world. The leaders and rulers believed he had let out his hot air and ran off to pout and lick his wounded ego over his rejection. That was until people started disappearing all across the lands, of all statures and social standings, even the family members of the Riders, but that wasn't the worst of it, the evidence left behind the disappearances was damning, and damning for the Order and Riders.

“Sir, they're gathering outside!”

“Yes, Marcus, I can hear them.” The Order leader sighed, pacing the room, hearing the echo of the jeering voices in the stone room around him, causing the situation to weigh even more heavily on him.

“How could they think that we and our creatures are behind these disappearances?” Marcus asked, looking to his leader for comfort. “We've spent centuries in harmony, protecting them, keeping the peace and prosperity. We find what causes people to go missing, not cause them!” He roared, his temper overcoming him, and the room around him shaking.

“Calm yourself, Marcus, getting angry will solve none of this.” His leader sighed, resting his hands on his shoulders.

“But, it isn't fair, Alaric.” Marcus hissed, still angry.

“We will right this, Marcus.” Alaric assured him with a pat on the shoulder.

The doors to the Order house flew open and one of the other Riders came rushing in, out of breath and his clothing torn, from his struggle through the mob crowded outside, and skid to a halt before Marcus and Alaric, taking a moment to catch his breath again.

“What is it, Asher?” Alaric asked, with wide eyed concern.

“Whitewich has been attacked.” He wheezed, stumbling over to the table in the middle of the room to grab a tankard sitting on it and gulp down the remaining liquid inside, quenching his dry tongue.

“By one of our own.”

“What!” Alaric roared, flabbergasted at the news.

“Ronan, from one of the West Order houses, flew into Whitewich on his creature and attacked the village, torching the whole place. Nearly killing all the inhabitants within its walls, before denouncing the Order and the Riders, then flew off again.” Asher told Alaric, leaning against the table and mopping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

“What does Bowen say of this?” Alaric asked, lifting his brow at Asher. “He's the Western Leader for our Order there.”

“He and his Riders are trying to track Ronan down, to bring him to justice.” Asher replied, sighing heavily.

A door to the south of them swung open, admitting a bent back, severely bow-legged, elderly man, with long, thinning white hair, twisted into two braids, each resting on either shoulder. Alaric turned towards the old man and lifted a brow at him, giving him a patient moment to collect his energy and find the words in his senile mind, before letting out soft, but good-natured, sigh.

“What is it, Gilbert?” He asked in a gentle tone.

“Mess..enger—birds,..your..grace.” Gilbert replied in a shaky voice. “Many..of..them.”

Alaric pinched the bridge of his nose, not at all having a good feeling about the messenger birds appearing in their coop. “All right.” He groaned, and followed Gilbert very slowly out of the Order's central room and into the open air of a courtyard, where the angry voices of the crowd was even louder, and to a tall circular tower, dominated by the fluttering and flapping of bird's wings and their calls. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, Alaric, Gilbert, Asher and Marcus entered the tower, where a group of four men were gently holding ravens and pigeons, removing teeny scrolls from leather tubes tied to one of their feet, before letting them go, to fly up into one of the empty cubby holes to rest from their long flights.

“What are the messages?” Alaric asked the workers.

“Mostly the same, sir.” One of the men answered, carefully unrolling the message he removed from the raven balanced on his forearm. “Several Riders across multiple Houses, in the West mostly, but three here in the East have joined them, have turned their backs on the Order, attacking villages, towns and cities all across the world.” He read from the scroll, also reciting several of the others he and others had read before Alaric arrived.

“They're flying under the banner of a Serpent and uttering the same one name.” He said, looking up at Alaric. “Christos Forebine.”

“So,” Alaric sighed, dropping into a nearby chair. “He's kept his promise.” He whispered, dropping his face into his hands.

“Alaric, we must do something!” Marcus barked at him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him violently. “You are the Leader of our Order, you can't not admit defeat and let this monster take over! Christos will not stop until he has destroyed us all and taken every last one of our creatures, then has taken control of the world!”

“He's right.” Asher agreed with Marcus, nodding his head. “Christos could corrupt more of them and the Riders to tip the world's balance into his favor, making himself supreme ruler of us all!”

“We need to stop him, before this gets fully out of our control, Alaric.” Marcus said softly, frowning down at his long time Leader and friend.

“You're right, we need to gather our Riders and get things in the sky and ground under our control again.” Alaric nodded, biting his lip. “Gilbert, Tomas.” He looked to the workers for the messenger birds. “I want you to send out birds to as many Riders as possible, the ones here in the East and any remaining from the West. I want them here as quickly as they can get here.”

Tomas nodded and got quickly to work, while Gilbert stood in place for a moment, before shuffling away somewhere.

“Asher and Marcus, come with me.”

The resistance of Riders gathered in the East Order House, only one of the Order Houses from the West was left not corrupted from Christos and by the time all of the messenger birds were sent out to the Houses, two of the Eastern Order Houses fell under him.

Alaric knew Christos would never again sit down and talk with the remaining Order Houses about peace and coming to an agreement to stop the conflict and unrest he was creating between the East and West. There was only one thing Christos knew, especially now that he had a league of experienced and seasoned Riders on his side, and becoming a Rider-in-training himself, and that was war and skirmishes. The two groups that had once rallied together, now fought on that same land wrecking havoc and leaving behind bloodshed and death, fighting family and friends, leaders and teachers to maintain a way of life or to create a new one where they could be the new masters.

“Asher is dead, as is his creature.” Marcus informed Alaric, wiping blood from the corner of his brow. “Two of Christos's Rider's dragged them out of the sky.” He frowned, the sight of Asher's death still fresh in his mind.

“Neither stood a chance at survival.”

Alaric, leaning against a table as he surveyed a map of the current battlefield, bowed his head, devastated by the news of Asher's death, his worn and cut up face pinched with deep emotion. “It's a heavy blow.” He mumbled, not lifting his heavy head.

“Alaric Saintwatcher.” A voice called across the makeshift war room.

Alaric looked up and saw Darius Simperwill approach him, limping rather badly, a bloody rag bound tightly around his thigh, with several of the other Riders, in no better shape than he was behind him.

“What is it, Darius?” He asked, rubbing his face and standing, groaning at the stiffness in his back and limbs.

“We can no longer sustain the fight against Christos and his followers.” Darius said, stopping at the table. “More of our Riders either join his forces or die. We need a better plan.”

“And you have one?” Alaric replied, lifting an exhausted brow at him.

“There has to be somewhere we can take our creatures and people, where Christos and his filthy traitors can't get their hands on them.” One of the Riders with Darius grumbled behind him.

“Don't you think, if there was such a place, genius, we would have gone there already?” Marcus retorted, scowling at him.

“It might not exist now, genius.” He belittled Marcus back, huffing at him.

“Speak plainly!” Alaric roared, tired of the nitpicking and petty squabbles of late.

“We all know that our bonds with our creatures can give us power, aye?” Darius said, looking around the room.

“Aye.” Alaric sighed, nodding his head and dropping into his chair.

“Well, Edward Williams believed that Riders and their creatures could combine their powers together and open a door, creating a completely different world, only they could open and close.”

Marcus's head reared back, his laughter filling the room with a thunderous boom. “Open a door to create a totally different world, where we can all have a merry little jaunt into, while Christos stays here, in this world, and rules?” He continued to laugh, shaking his head and held his stomach.

“That's a marvelous idea, Darius.”

“Marcus, hush!” Alaric snapped and rolled his eyes at him, then looked to Darius. “How do you expect me to take those I now have under my care into this world we could possibly create for safety and leave those Christos has under his corruption here?”

“They are already lost!” Darius hissed at him, slapping his hands on the table.

“And the innocent people that wouldn't be able to cross this door with us?” Alaric demanded, angrily. “I've read of this theory in the old texts before, only a Rider and the creatures can cross the doorway. Regular humans would be trapped on this side of it.” He said, jabbing his finger into the table top.

“Leaving them to Christos's fury, when we vanish into it. I won't do that. I won't leave them to that fate, it's against everything we stand for.”

Darius huffed and pushed away from the table, frustrated and at his wit's end.

“What about an ambush?” Marcus asked, biting his lip.

“What kind of ambush?” Alaric asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Set Christos and his traitors up in an ambush of some type that allows us to kill them and their creatures. Then, once they are gone, we can open the door and take the remaining Riders and creatures through, protecting them, so no others are able to do such a thing like what he has again.”

Darius turned back towards Alaric, holding his gaze for a long moment, before they nodded at each other.

“Gather all those we have left.” Alaric said, his eyes never leaving Darius.

Within the hour, the remaining twelve were gathered in the war room and were told the plan on how they intended to put an end to the war.

“How do we open this door?”

“It takes five of us to create and open the door to the world we make for ourselves, but three of the five, must stay behind.” Alaric explained to the group.

“Why?”

“Three Seals will be forged within the door, when it is created. To lock the door behind us, the three Seals must be removed from the door.” Darius picked up explaining. “We can't allow just anyone to watch over the Seals once the doors are closed. It has to be three people out of this trusted group, or all will be for not.”

“I'll be one of the three.” Marcus spoke up, standing up from his seat. “It would be my honor to guard the door that gives my people safety.”

“As will I.” Another Rider vowed, standing with Marcus.

A soft murmur went through the room.

“Aye, I'll be your third.” said a man in the back, raising his hand above his head.

“Then, those two, Marcus, Alaric and I will open the door.” Darius said, nodding his head as the plan came together. “Now,-”

“I won't be going.” Alaric interrupted him.

“What?” Marcus and Darius snapped in unison.

“We need someone to set the ambush.”

“Absolutely not!” Marcus hissed, stomping over to Alaric's side. “You can't! Take my place, protect the Seal. I'll set up the ambush with Christos, it was my idea after all.”

“No, Marcus.” Alaric shook his head, sighing softly at him. “Christos won't go anywhere without just cause. He's always been suspicious and paranoid, so for him to be led into a place for any reason, has to be for a good reason.”

“Am I not a good enough reason?”

Alaric smirked at Marcus and lifted an amused brow, his face getting the point across that he certainly was not good enough to lure Christos anywhere, making Marcus's shoulders slump.

“You couldn't lure him out of the loo.” Darius teased him.

“Oh, shut it.” Marcus hissed at him, angrily. “I can't let you do this.”

“Marcus, I am the Leader of the Order, it is my job to protect it and all those inside of it.” He told him, sincerely. “I am also the only one Christos will deem valuable enough to meet.”

“He's right.” Darius agreed, sadly nodding his head. “What do you have in mind, Alaric?” He asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Just leave that to me.” Alaric replied, his mind already working on it.

“All right, then we need one other for the door.” Darius sighed, looking around the room.

“I'll help.” A soft voice in the back answered.

Heads turned and looked at the timid face of Tomas.

“I know the history behind it.” Tomas said, gulping and looking around the room.

“Thank you, Tomas.” Alaric said, smiling at him.

Tomas smiled shyly at him, nodding his head and shuffling his feet.

“There has to be someone else.” Marcus whispered into Alaric's ear.

“I chose Tomas, he'll do well.” Alaric replied, dismissing Marcus's notion.

“Where do we make this door?”

“We need a safe place. We'll scour for it, while preparations are made for the refugees to go through the door, once it is opened. Make sure to gather as many supplies as possible, for all those that cross the threshold. There's no telling what will be found there, once on the other side.” Alaric said, meeting the eyes of everyone in the room.

“I might have a place, as well.” Tomas spoke up, lifting a pointer finger.

“Where?” Darius demanded, narrowing his eyes at the younger man.

“The original world cave is nearby.” Tomas started to explain to them, moving over to the table, where several maps were laid out. “Here, this was the original world cave, where Edward Williams discovered our creatures.”

“It's unmarked and very few actually know where it is.”

“How do you know where it is?” Marcus asked, looking at the map where Tomas's finger was tapping.

“I've spent my life studying the ancient texts.” Tomas answered, looking up at him. “He described the specific world cave countless times, and I've explored several of them myself, and this is the one that fits the description of it.”

“You're sure?” Alaric asked, leaning forward to look at the map.

“On my creature.” Tomas nodded, sure of himself.

“Then, what?” Marcus asked, lifting a brow at Tomas.

“We go to the world cave, open the door and those going can enter through the doorway. Once that is done, the Seal Keepers remove the Seals and the door will lock behind them.” Tomas explained to the room. “I do propose, once the door is closed and the Seals removed, that the three of us Keepers collapse the entrance of the cave, preventing anyone from finding it again. So, anyone that would wish to take Christos's cause up after his demise can not find it and do so.”

“That is a solid idea, Tomas.” Alaric replied, stroking his chin and nodding his head. “I want the five of you to go there and start the preparations to open the door, the rest of you will start gathering supplies to go through it.” He said, standing up.

“And you, Alaric?” Darius asked, standing up with him.

“As I said, leave that to me.” Alaric replied, before leaving the room.

The five who agreed to open the door arrived at the world cave discovered by Edward Williams all those centuries ago, finding a small path that laid to a shelf and a reasonably flat enough rock face.

“This'll do.” Tomas said, pressing his hand against it. “It's perfect for what we need.” He nodded, then turned to the others. “Do you all know the words?” He asked them, hopefully.

“I know them.” Darius spoke up.

“Darius told me about them after the meeting.” Marcus added.

The two others just glanced at each other and back at Tomas.

“Right, so.” Tomas sighed, pressing his fingers into his eyes and paced the narrow shelf. “The words go like this; 'Through our shared bond, with we and them. We call upon it, in this time of need, to open this door, so that we may soar into a new world and be free, once more'.” He recited the words.

“Understood?”

“Aye.” the four other men nodded their heads.

“Place a hand on the stone.” Tomas motioned for them too.

The four approached the wall, reaching out a hand to touch the cool wall alongside Tomas.

“Now, tap into your bond with your creature.” He instructed them. “Let the bond flow wide open and free, like the flowing of a river.”

They all took a deep breath, opening themselves and feeling the tingle and hum of their bonds strengthen to their fullest potential, making the air around them shimmer with it.

“All together now, say the words.” Tomas said. “And push it into the rock.”

“Through our shared bond, with we and them. We call upon it, in this time of need, to open this door, so that we may soar into a new world and be free, once more.” They all said in unison, squeezing their eyes shut.

They repeated the incantation over and over, the words slowly getting muddled as they did, but their meaning and purpose was not lost with them. With each completed pass of the incantation, thin glowing blue lines cracked through the face of the wall, tracing and weaving the outline of a mighty door, making the cavern around them rumble and quake, then slowly scrape open.

“It actually worked.” One of the men huffed, stepping away from the door, mouth hanging open.

“What did you actually expect, you daft monkey?” Marcus snapped at him.

“Calm down, Marcus.” Darius sighed. “Ian doesn't mean anything by it.”

“Yeah, I don't.” Ian replied, making a smug face at Marcus.

“Ian, come with me, we'll go and tell Alaric that the door is ready. The rest of you stay here and make sure no one comes that shouldn't, and set up the explosives for us to close the cave entrance, when the time comes.” Darius said, motioning for Ian for him to follow, making for the mouth of the cave and returning to the sanctuary, where the remaining Riders were holed up.

“Alaric, we're ready.” Darius said, entering the Leader's private chamber.

“Good, excellent.” Alaric nodded, standing near the fireplace in his chamber. “I'm leaving soon, Darius.” He said, staring into the flames. “But, before I go, I have one more thing I need to do. To ensure.”

“All right.” Darius nodded, frowning at Alaric's back.

“Will you help me with it?” Alaric asked, turning towards him.

“Aye, tell me what I can do?”

Alaric touched a pendant hanging around his neck, then took it off. “Come here.” He said, motioning Darius closer to him.

Darius regarded him for a moment, before approaching him, and Alaric held the pendent out to him, both of them holding it together.

“I, Alaric Saintwatcher, give you, Darius Simperwill, the pendent of the Order of the East-” Alaric began.

“Alaric, wait.” Darius began to protest. “You can't do this.”

“I can and I will, Darius.” Alaric growled back. “Those remaining will need a Leader.”

“Marcus is the second in command.”

“He's one of the three Seal Keepers, he can't be the Leader of those who go through the door.” Alaric barked at him, agitated that Darius was causing them precious time with foolish protests. “You are the only one it can be. You're the only one I trust enough, with enough experience and respect for those going.” He argued.

“Now, shut up and let me finish.” He huffed, squeezing their hands around the pendent. “I, Alaric Saintwatcher, give you, Darius Simperwill, the pendent of the Order of the East to take responsibility for all those that the Order encompasses, for their safety and well-being.” He recited the oath from heart, remembering from when he had taken it, all those decades before.

“Do you take this oath, Darius Simperwill?” He asked, meeting his eye.

Darius stared at him for a long moment, conflicted about taking the oath, of taking his place, knowing Marcus would lose his mind when he found out. But, it was what Alaric wanted. “Aye, I'll take the oath, Alaric Saintwatcher.”

“Then, I pass this on to you.” Alaric said, letting the pendant go. “Wear it with pride.”

Darius stared at it for a moment, rubbing his thumb over the raised symbol on the pendant, before hanging it around his neck by the worn and frayed leather cord. “I'll do you proud, Alaric.” He said, a lump in his throat.

Alaric clasped him on the shoulder. “I have no doubt otherwise.” He smiled. “One last drink?” He asked, grabbing an emerald green bottle off a nearby table and held it up.

“Aye, one more drink.” Darius nodded, tears burning in his eyes.

“To the Order, to the Riders, to our Creatures and to our ways of life!” Alaric declared, holding up his glass in salute.

Darius nodded, holding up his glass. “To true friends.” He added, holding Alaric's eye with a soft smile.

“To true friends.” Alaric agreed, quietly choked up, before both of them swallowed their drinks in one mouthful.

Alaric watched as the Order's refugees silently funnel out of the sanctuary, carefully vanishing into the dark hills that surrounded it, making their way towards the mouth of the world cave that secreted the door to their refuge, led by Darius, their new Order Leader.

Sighing, he turned to his creature and mounted, flying off to do his last bidding. He took a deep breath of the cool night air streaming past his head, his eyes falling shut and letting the free and weightless feeling take over him, an ocean of inky purple clouds and sparkling stars and constellations all around him.

“Our last ride, Tila.” He murmured, resting forward and wrapping his arms around his creature's thick, scaly neck.

His mind flitted back to the message he had sent to Christos in his own battlement, giving him a place to meet, under the false pretense of peace between both sides. He arranged for them to meet inside a world cave, claiming it was Edward's world cave, what perfect place to set him up in, making him think it was the cave that started it all, the cave that would give him all the power he wanted.

The mouth of the cave came into view and Alaric could see a few of Christos's Riders standing outside, waiting for him to arrive and join them inside. Letting out a heavy breath, he and his creature landed, ignoring those already on the ground and entered the world cave, those outside following him inside, closing in around him and Tila.

“Where are the rest of your brats?” Christos's voice echoed over to Alaric.

“Back at our sanctuary.” Alaric replied, slipping off of Tila.

“Doing things on your own, as always, Alaric.” Christos mocked him. “Keeping your pups cowering behind your walls.”

“Do you want to talk or throw insults, Christos?” Alaric sighed, rolling his eyes, feeling antsy.

“Peace!” Christos screamed, throwing his arms out wide, and turning in a circle, making every one of his followers laugh. “The great Order Leader, Alaric Saintwatcher wants peace, in exchange for what, exactly?”

“You stopping this crusade, this needless bloodshed of our kind.”

“Ha!” Christos hissed back. “Now, I'm one of your kind.”

Alaric sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose, knowing there was no real way to get through to Christos Forebine, unless it was on his own terms.

“How about I take my Riders and torch your precious sanctuary and Riders?” Christos suggested, pandering to his riled up followers. “Then, there will be true peace!”

“With you as the ruler of us all?” Alaric replied, lifting a brow at him.

“Exactly.” Christos grinned at him, impishly. “But, that starts with getting rid of you.” He growled, narrowing his eyes at Alaric. “Kill him!” He screamed at the top of his lungs.

Alaric's heart started to pound against his ribs, he rested his hand on Tila's neck as Christos's followers started closing in on him. He waited, calmly, before it was almost too late for him to make his move.

“Now, Tila!” He shouted, patting her on the neck.

Stretching her long neck and letting out an ear splitting shriek, Tila opened her mouth and shot a blueish-purple flaming orb into the dome of the world cave, causing the entire cave to quake, huge pieces of the ceiling came crashing down and hitting Riders and Creatures alike, startling them. As they started to recover again, Tila let out another blast to a separate part of the world cave's ceiling, causing

even more of the ceiling to collapse on top of them.

“Alaric, what are you doing!?” Christos shouted over the noise of crashing rock and panicked voices.

“What I must!” Alaric roared back at him.

With one alarming rumble and strong tremor, the rest of the world cave's ceiling gave way, crumbling away on top of them. Many of Christos's followers attempted to escape, to get to some kind of safety before it was too late, but it was too late, the mouth of the cave fell in on itself, closing them in, with no other way out, leaving them to their deaths.

Meanwhile, Alaric's remaining Riders and creatures, now under the watchful leadership of Darius, felt the ground shake as they ascended deep into Edward's real world cave towards the Seal Door. Darius and Marcus glanced at each other as they stood beside each other at the door, knowing what was causing the shake.

“Well, I'll assume Alaric was successful.” Darius sighed, watching the last few remaining Riders funnel in.

“We'll soon find out.” Marcus replied, biting his lip and felt a sharp heaviness in his chest. “Still can't believe he made you the new Leader of the Order.” He huffed, folding his arms over his chest, dejectedly.

Darius sighed again, rubbing his fingertips into his tired eyes. “I told him, it should have been you who took his place. But, he said, since you were chosen to be a Seal Keeper, it had to be me.” He said, dropping his hands to his sides and looking over at his long time friend.

“I know.” Marcus answered, lightly jabbing his shoulder into Darius's and gave him a teasing smile. “Still can't believe it.” He chuckled.

“Do me one solid favor, though?”

“Anything, Marcus?” Darius nodded, his brow pinching with sincerity.

“Will you take care of Icarus for me?” He asked, looking at his creature, with a loving, but sad, smile. “She's a good ol' girl, spits ice farther than any I've ever met.” He reminisced, petting her incandescent blue wing.

“You have my promise.” Darius swore, resting his hand on Darius's back. “I'll take care of her, like I care for Elio.”

“I appreciate it, Darius.” Marcus sighed, clasping him on the arm. “I really do.”

“Everyone's here and ready.” Tomas said, approaching Darius and Marcus.

“Ian and Coda, are you ready?” Marcus asked, looking at his fellow Seal Keepers.

“We are.” Ian nodded and glanced at Coda.

“All right, that just leaves the rest up to you, Darius.” Marcus said, respectfully bowing to him.

“Oh, don't go giving me any of that bullshit, Marcus Cuillen.” Darius huffed at him, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders and pulled him into a bear hug. “I'll miss you.”

“Don't go soft now.” Marcus roared, squeezing him back, before they broke apart, and he stepped away from Marcus to stand beside Coda and Ian.

“Riders!” Darius called out, his voice reverberating off the stone walls.

“We are all that is left. We and our creatures, who we are tasked with protecting, but we are also tasked with protecting the way of our life, of our Order.” He shouted, meeting the eye of as many Riders he could. “For that reason, we will enter this door, into a new world, where it is safe for us and them. I do not know, if ever, we will return to this world, or what we will find, when we do.”

“But, for now, this is what we must do, and as your new Leader, I will step through first, to show to you, it is safe!”

Taking a deep breath, Darius turned towards the open stone door. He couldn't see what was on the other side of it, because of a shimmering, dark purple membrane stretched across the opening stood between the Order and their new world. So, squaring his shoulders and fortified by what he was doing was for the greater good of his people and the world at large, Darius strode forward with his head held high and confident. He reached his hand out, touching the membrane with his fingertips and found it to be cool, as the rock face itself, before pushing his hand through it, making it ripple, like water.

Darius looked over his shoulder and smiled at the group behind him, then stepped through, vanishing on the other side. A gasp rippling through the group left behind. A moment later, Darius's creature, Elio, stirred its scales and approached the door, slipping through it without a thought or hesitation.

“It must be safe.” Ian spoke up, after a minute of nothing. “Or he wouldn't have summoned his creature to follow after him.” He pointed out.

“True.” Marcus nodded his head. “Okay, everyone!” He shouted, getting the group's attention as they all stared at the doorway, wide eyed and astonished. “Single file, start going through. No pushing or shoving! Nice and easy, that's it.” He nodded his head, as the group started to trail in, somewhat hesitatingly at first, through the door with what belongings and supplies they could carry, as well as with their creature.

Once all of the Order was inside, the three Seal Keepers said their last good-byes to their own creatures, knowing for their safety, they had to also go through the doorway, and sent them on their way; Ian tearing up a little bit as his creature's tail disappeared through the membrane last.

“Now what, Marcus?” Ian asked, looking at him, as a lonely feeling starting to spread inside of his chest.

“We close the door.” Marcus replied, having a similar feeling. “Help me push it.” He said, moving around and planting his hands on the door.

Nodding their heads, Coda and Ian joined him, then with grunts and groans, they pushed the door closed, slotting it back into the rock face seamlessly, except for the eerie blue glow it still had to it.

“Right.” Marcus sighed, dusting his hands on the thighs of his pants. “I'll take the top Seal.” He said, reaching up for the object slotted into the front of the door, and after a moment of figuring it out, gave it a half turn to the left and popped it out, feeling the hefty weight of it in his single palm.

“I'll take the right one.” Ian replied, grabbing it and with a quarter turn to the right, had it out in his hand as well.

Nodding his head, Coda removed the left Seal with a full turn. The three of them stood together for a long while, staring down at their Seals, each with a different symbol on it. They could feel a faint hum of power slowly fading out of them, as the magic that opened the door vanished into the thin air around them, causing the glow of the now closed and locked doorway to dull and darken, leaving a pale outline of where they had once been, the only evidence of their existence, other than the Seals.

“How about a pint?” Ian suddenly suggested, looking up from his Seal.

Marcus heaved a sigh. “I could use a drink.”

“What about you, Coda?” Ian asked, lifting a brow at him.

Coda stared at his Seal a moment longer, then looked up at the other two men, shook his head and started making his way back out of the world cave. Marcus and Ian shrugged their shoulders at each other, but followed him out of the cave as well. They stopped outside of the cave, tucking the Seals away on their person for safety, before lighting the fuses to the explosives they had laid, then put several yards between them and the cave as the muffled explosions went off and the earth around it folded in on itself. With a respectful bow, Coda took his leave of Marcus and Ian, going off into the night, on his own.

“I think it's best we also part ways, as well.” Marcus said, setting down his pint, as he and Ian sat in an ale house in the nearest town. “We're no longer Riders.” He sighed, staring into the foam of his drink. “Even if we still had our creatures, we couldn't do anything with them, it would be too dangerous.”

“I believe you're right.” Ian burped, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “We would be daft to be in the same town, let alone the same city with our Seals, should anyone come looking for them.”

“No one should even be alive, other than the three of us and those that crossed the door, that know about the Seals either way.” Marcus commented, flicking his hand to motion to the full room of patrons. “If Alaric's plan went off like it should have, all of Christos's followers should be dead.”

“You know, there has to be some low life, wanna-be, Rider that followed that madman out there.” Ian huffed, lifting a brow at Marcus. “You would be an idiot not to be slightly paranoid about it.”

“I am.” Marcus barked, lifting his tankard back to his mouth and took a deep drink. “That's why I suggested we separate too. Just like Coda did.”

Ian bit his lip and pushed his jaw forward, nodding. “All right.” He huffed, rubbing at his face and feeling the weight of his Seal in his pocket. “I've always loved it across the sea, the land is nice.” He mumbled. “I'm sure Coda is going back to his corner in the far East.”

“Why don't you stick around here, we'll all three cover those bases.” He suggested, lifting a brow.

Marcus cleared his throat and thought it over. He wasn't opposed to staying in the part of the world they were in, but he still wanted a change in scenery, just like Ian and Coda did. “I might wander up North a bit. I'm sick of this area, nothing but heartache and bad omens.”

“That's up to you.” Ian replied, shrugging his big shoulders.

“I doubt the three of us will ever see each other again.”

“Good.” Ian chuckled, hoarsely. “I'm sick of your face and have been for years.” He said, cracking a smile.

“The feeling's mutual.” Marcus grinned, lifting his cup and knocked it against Ian's, when he lifted his. “To the Order and, hopefully, a better world.” He toasted, before they both gulped down the rest of their ales, shook hands and took leave of each other, their Seals safe with them as they went.

“Yes, Mum. I just got the box delivered ten minutes ago.” Henry replied, pressing his phone to his ear with his shoulder and pulled a steak knife out of the drawer, to cut the packaging tape off the box his mother had shipped to him from Jersey.

“How are you liking the new place, love?” Marianne asked her son.

“I really like it.” He answered, pulling open the cardboard flaps of the box. “It's quiet out here and there's a ton of yard for Kal to go wild in.” He grinned, twisting his upper body to look out the kitchen window in time to see a Kal sized blur bolt across the backyard and into the side yard. “He's already dug five holes.” He chuckled, turning back towards the box.

“Anyway, what's in this thing, mum?” He asked, peeking inside.

“Just some stuff from your room and things I didn't know what else to do with.” She answered him.

“Ah, I see, it's my turn to house some of the family nick-nacks.” Henry laughed, pulling out a few things that had been in his childhood bedroom, smiling fondly at them.

“Oh, I have another call, Henry. I'm glad you love the new house! I'll call you later”

“Thanks, mum!” He replied and hung up with her, then put his full attention on the things in the box. “What's this?” Henry frowned, pulling out an old, round disc that had a bit of weight to it and a worn marking on one side. “Weird.” He mumbled, turning it over and looking for any marks that could tell him what it was, the nerd in him interested and drawn to it.

“I wonder if there's a place I could get you checked out at.” He said, biting his lip and set it down on the kitchen counter, but he wasn't even sure where he would start to look. “I'll have to do some research later on tonight.” He decided, then finished unpacking the box and putting the things inside of it away in various places around his new house in the English countryside.

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bratdjarin · 4 years ago

Text

For if I am not yours, what am I?

Summary: Family has always been important to The Mandalorian, he needed to have something to cling to and call his own after everything he once possessed had been taken away. Watching him grow increasingly tender with his little stolen green asset had only left you with thoughts on what it would be like if you were to give him a child of his own, little did you know how unlikely that was to ever happen.

Warnings: Discussion of infertility and sex.

A/N: After reading so much smut involving Mando with a breeding kink, the only reasonable place my brain could go afterwards was straight to wondering what would happen if you were, in fact, unable to bare his child like you both wished? If you’re brave enough, I highly suggest going and listening to Mitski’s song “Wife” as that is where I got the inspiration for this fic.

Din stood outside the lavatory with his hands balled up into tight fists, a tenseness had settled in his shoulders from the second he had watched you enter and they had shown no sign of easing since. Across from him, Grogu sat within his makeshift bed, chubby green hands entertaining themselves with a small bundle of charms you had picked up at a market on the last planet you’d stopped off at.

It hadn’t been long at all since he had returned with something small and green bundled up in his arms and yet Din couldn’t imagine the ship without the sound of babbling and cooing. It would be as hard to imagine it without you, the smallest things seemed so necessary, like you leaving the shower setting on hot when he preferred them as cold as possible, or finding crumbs in bed from late night snacks when you thought he was asleep. They had become so ingrained with his image of the Razor Crest that if you were to leave it would be like tearing out circuits or dismantling the wings.

He knew it had been only mere minutes since you had entered the lavatory with the test in hand but each second felt like an eternity, it felt like a knife to the gut to simply know there was something you knew that he didn’t. It sounded possessive but when he had showed you everything there was to him, every part he’d sworn to keep secret or at least die trying, he couldn’t stomach the thought of there being something you didn’t share together.

Maybe it was possessive, would that be so wrong?

Grogu cooed absentmindedly and Din tilted his helmet towards him, watching as the kid brought one of the charms up to his mouth to chew on. The noise would have bothered him once upon a time, the ship had never been silent per say but it was quiet enough to have any new sound feel intrusive.

When he’d first offered you a ride after being caught in the crossfire of a bounty collection gone wrong, he was almost certain he would kick you off in a matter of hours as a result of the increase of noise you brought along. Eventually though, after being thrown off course and into a detour of massive proportion, he got used to the noise of having you around, even grew to miss it when he did finally get you to where you were initially going. Sure, the separation only lasted a few hours before he was storming off to insist you come back, offering good pay to look after the ship while he went out on his collections but even with that clunky helmet covering what you felt in your gut to be a pretty face, you knew his true intentions.

That was many cycles ago, so much had happened since then that there simply wasn’t time to stand and ponder over it all. However, Din always allowed for a moment in every day to think back to the time he first had you in his bed, more specifically the morning after when he’d awoken to the sight of you curled up beside him, hand warm on his belly and your head tucked neatly beneath the sharp edge of his helmet. Months of tension had finally been cut and instead of the shame and regret which he thought for certain you’d feel after bedding a man you knew so little about, he found you by his side looking more peaceful than ever witnessed before.

The lock on the lavatory door turned and Din’s head whipped around to face it. He didn’t know what to expect upon your exit, he had been hoping for at least a smile, but he recognized melancholy faster than anything else. A sickness twisted in his stomach and if it were not for the heavy helmet keeping him covered, you would have witnessed how his eyes softened with woe.

He watched as you extended the pregnancy test out which he took slowly, the tips of his orange gloves brushing against your skin and he noted the slight tremble in your hand. Maybe this was all a mistake, it wasn’t right that you once again be placed into a position of failure because of something he craved so deeply.

It was not the first time that you had found yourselves together in this predicament. It had been your idea originally, a wish you’d kept a secret from the moment Din softened himself around you. It sometimes still amazed you how that Beskar hid a man capable of such warm laughter and gentle touches. Falling for him wasn’t an immediate thing, truthfully you found the man a pretentious bother to begin with but somewhere along the way, maybe when you first heard him speak to the kid with such tenderness, you found an affection for him that hadn’t faltered since.

You could recall with complete ease the first night he fucked you. He wasn’t gentle per say but there had been a hesitation in his hands, as though he had never had the chance to touch someone without the intent to harm. The weight of his body on top of you was welcomed with no qualms, there was little he could do which would have made you want him to leave, especially when slid that beautiful cock inside of you as though he had been made to fit there.

With your naked skin pressed to the cold metal of his amour and his spunk warm between your legs, never had you felt so content before, so incredibly safe. As you had drifted off to sleep that night, your mind wandered to how Din’s hand had settled down on your stomach as he fucked you, those thick fingers kneading at your soft belly in admiration and you wondered how tenderly he’d touch you there if it there was his child there inside.

Din ran his thumb over the test, rubbing across the negative sign flashing with an obnoxious red light. Despite having shared his face with you before, while on the ship he still wore his helmet the majority of the time, you knew it to be a thing of comfort for him and while perfectly content to see him whenever he gave you the chance, all you wanted right then was to know how he was feeling. His gaze remained pointed down at the test when you spoke up, your voice raspy yet quiet in fear of breaking.

“We can try again.” Since the third time hadn’t been any luckier than before, you concluded that some of that luck must be carried onto the next attempts. That had to be the case, the alternative would be to admit that it was unlikely that you were to ever get a positive and that was a defeat you could not handle.

Silence, that was all Din gave you in return. He continued to stare down at the test, caressing it with a gentle touch which couldn’t have been any further than what you wanted to do to it; throw it out into the dark realms of space, stomp on it till the floor was littered with crushed plastic and a smashed light, flush it down the toilet and pretend like none of it ever happened? All were good options and way better than Din’s decision to stroke the thing like it was something precious.

Grogu babbled something behind you and the sound made your eyes begin to water. It was your fault, you had let yourself think about having a little one around alongside him, convinced yourself that this would be the time you’d witness your kids taking naps together and waddling after their father, pulling at his cape when they wanted attention. You’d promised together that the time you got pregnant would be the time Din found you somewhere to settle down together, a planet warm and green, with pretty scenery and lots of space for the children to play.

That was what you needed, somewhere far away, somewhere Din could take off his helmet in the privacy of his home and not fear there was someone lurking outside waiting to strike.

“I don’t think it’s meant to be.” Din said after a long moment of consideration. His voice was soft, more so than you think you’d ever heard it before. For a second you thought he was going to hand the test back over to you but then he thought better of it, instead slipping it into one of the many pockets on his amour.

It was not a game of fault or blame but Din couldn’t help but think if this was in fact a problem of his own creating, maybe he was the one who was unable to provide you with a child. Although he stood tall, thinking he had been the cause of more than even a second of pain for you, let alone months of hope being crushed, it made his knees feel weak. He watched with a tremble in his lip as the tears that had threatened to spill from your eyes finally flooded over, clinging to your lashes as you tried to blink them away.

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing you could think to say. After everything he had been through, all you had wanted was to give Din something good. You knew if you were to tell him that he’d brush it aside, tell you that he had everything he wanted right in front of him but you’d seen it before, you’d learned to follow his gaze as you walked past families filled with smiles and laughter.

It only took you to blink once before you found yourself being wrapped up tight in Din’s arms, pressed up tight against his Beskar. It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions, not with your cheek squished up against his chest and your arms flush to your side with the suddenness of it all but it was him, being in the same room was comfort enough so a hug was Maker-sent.

“It’s not your fault.” Din’s voice, despite being warped slightly through the modulator of his helmet, was a comfort; it was slightly croaky, however, as though he too was on the verge of crying. Those big hands slid across your back comfortingly, tucking his fingers around your sides and squeezing you tight whenever he felt you let out a shuddered breath. “You did everything right; this isn’t your fault.”

“I wanted to give you a son.” The words escaped your mouth before you could stop them. Most days, it was all you could think about. A little boy, big brown eyes and dark hair, maybe even a dimple like his father had. You’d lay in bed waiting for Din to return home from a collection and pass the time thinking about the two of them playing together, Din’s patient and calm demeanor contrasted by the fiery giggles of your child, of course not helped with Grogu’s mischievous nature.

There was no reply after that, not for a long while and for a moment, you swore you could hear sniffling from above you. Before you could say anything more, Din’s hands slowly retreated from your back and went up towards his helmet. Despite hearing the noise many times before, the clicking of his helmet being released made your stomach clench and you clung tighter to him, to be one of the few to have seen his face was still a thrill you could not get over.

You knew if you wanted, you could look up and see Din’s face, he’d made that perfectly clear by now but not wanting to cause him anymore discomfort, you instead decided to keep your eyes closed. His helmet fell to the floor with a loud clatter that made both you and Grogu jump in surprise. Then, ever so softly, you felt his lips press to the top of your head. It was gentle, might not have even been processed if you weren’t so on edge from the sudden noise.

For all you knew, you stood there together for days straight, Din holding you as you rode the waves of tears that came and went. His hands had returned to the soft expanse of your back, even sliding up your shirt at one point so you could be reminded of his warmth― Din was still there, despite everything, he was still there.

“We can’t do this again.” Din said after a long silence. It was a surprisingly easy decision to come to, he would always prefer you safe and content, having you alone was more than enough and certainly more than he thought he ever deserved. There was no denying that letting go of the promise of watching you swell with something so beautiful would be hard, he too had let himself ponder on all the warmth and happiness to come but it was for the best. Much like how he didn’t want to see you in pain again, Din could not handle another defeat so heavy.

You knew he was right, there were few times he wasn’t, but it didn’t make it any less painful to hear. Rather than reply, you simply held him even tighter, unable to let another thing go. Perhaps you could still go to that planet, find that pretty home in the solitude and allow that love to go fully to each other. You still needed to look after Grogu anyways, poor little green thing was still a child in his own right and needed the both of you around.

It was possible that this wasn’t the loss of something but the start of something new, something better. It didn’t feel like it right then but maybe one day it would. Until then, you knew you had Din and Grogu to make things feel complete.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #din djarin x female reader

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sidespromptblog · 4 years ago

Text

Between the Mask: End

One, Two, and Three

Warnings: Panic attack (Virgil), Crying (Virgil), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, and Awkwardness.

Summary: Roman confronts Janus about how exactly Roman should act around him, after being told by the others that both being nice and mean to him is wrong. Only to discover that, after everything he’s been through Janus isn’t the person he portrays in front of everyone else.

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 2871

This could not have been more awkward if they’d tried, it was scarily resembling the first time that Thomas had ever brought over his boyfriend to his parents house. Except this time it was just Janus, and Virgil staring holes right through the other side’s head in a silent attempt to slay him where he sat.

So all things considered… not bad.

“So Janus…” Patton tenderly broke the silence that had been sitting amongst them all as the others poked and prodded at their food, only nibbling morosely at the food that had been dished onto their plates. If anything, Patton hoped that a light conversation would ease the tension of the room, even if it was with Janus.

“Logan told us that you made some suggestions on what he should change in his wardrobe? Are we allowed any hints about what might be changing? I never knew you to be very conscious about what we wore before.”

A quick flicker of Janus’ eyes from his food, to Patton, to Logan, and then back to Patton was the only hint of surprise that Janus gave away. Both at the topic of conversation and the fact that Logan had felt the need to even tell Patton of all people that much. Although… he did suppose that in order to get a little, one must also give a little.

“Yes,” A tiny proud grin curled on Janus’ lips as he set his fork down. “I’ve taken up knitting as of recently, and I wanted Logan to model some of the scarves and sweaters that I was planning to make. If he liked any of them I wanted him to be able to keep them, if it made him happy to do so. I’ve already started on my first set of socks,” Janus proudly admitted, his chest puffing out a little at the thought of the cozy midnight blue socks he had painstakingly knitted over the past few days. They weren’t anywhere close to being finished since he was actually making them instead of summoning them, but… it felt nice to work hard on something that someone else could enjoy like that. “Logan picked out the color himself.” He also added softly, a tiny genuine smile playing on his lips.

Virgil merely huffed silently, ignoring the overly wary look that had come from Logan at the motion whereas the tension seemed to bleed out of Patton’s shoulders at that. A much more relieved look on his face as the moral side found it much easier to relax after that, where Virgil found it to be just the opposite.

It was clear to him at least that Janus was just playing some kind of game to get Patton on his side so that he could-

“Have you tried crocheting?” The question came easily enough, and thus the topic of conversation had been started almost as easily as breathing, but even so, with that one question it felt as if the wind had been knocked out of Virgil’s lungs.

Something that seemingly went unnoticed as Patton smiled more easily.

The normal and casualness of the conversation made the tight feeling inside of Patton’s chest loosen at the look of excitement that bubbled up in Janus’ eyes, excitement that Janus was clearly having to tamper down as he readjusted himself in his seat eagerly leaning forward. There were no lies here, and there was no false bravado and slyness like there was in the courtroom. Just… genuine happiness and conversations between two people who could be friends. It made Patton understand all the more just how Logan was easily able to talk with Janus outside of the scope of Thomas, and just how Logan was able to relax around Janus. Janus was… smart, really smart, but there was no denying the level of comfort that the dishonest side practically oozed when he too was feeling comfortable. It was almost like…

The warm hearth of a fireplace.

“I have,” Janus popped a cherry tomato into his mouth, chewing quickly before swallowing. “But crocheted clothes are often times more still, and they’re better suited to blankets and hats, or even curtains if you’ve got a lot of dedication.” Janus gestured to the beanie sitting snugly on his head, only letting out a few wisps of his curly hair. “So while knitting is more challenging, it's better suited to that purpose even if I don’t quite understand it yet. It’s good to challenge the mind every now and then. That’s how you grow after all.”

The clatter of silverware stopped whatever Patton was going to say next.

All attention shifted over to the source of the noise, as Virgil’s hands landed solidly on the table with his plate rattling from the motion. The look on his face wasn’t that of the disbelieving anger he had aimed at Logan mere hours ago, or even one of hate like he had in the courtroom, but one of honest relief and disbelief at the same time. His fingers dug into the wood of the table, his knuckles scraping against it as he clenched his fists as the anxious side took in one deep shuddering breath after another. He looked rather shocked to say the least, well… shocked was a rather tame way of looking at Virgil’s reaction.

“Virg-”

“You’re crocheting again?” Virgil cut in before Patton’s worried exclamation could go any further, as if needing to hear the answer and assure the others that he wasn’t angry all at the same time. There was a desperate pleading look in his eyes, one that barely showed the tears that were welling up in his eyes like a sink on the verge of over flooding.

His breathing hitched for a moment, as Janus answered with three simple words:

“I never stopped.”

It was with those words alone that the hardy anxious side cried, the tears spilling over with ease as he slumped back into his chair as if all of the strength had been knocked out of him. Honestly, none of them had ever seen Virgil cry before, he had always been rather aloof when it had come to expressing or even partaking in emotional moments with all of them. Happy to join in on the fun and good moments, but always so quick to withdraw when it came to sad discussions about his own emotional state that didn’t involve his own anxieties as Thomas’ residential anxiety.

In a last ditch effort to hide the state of his own emotional turmoil Virgil pulled his hood down to cover his eyes, although it did almost nothing to hide the dark mixture of tears and eyeshadow that had already made their way down his face already. If anything it only made it that more shocking to see the other side like this, being so careless as to cry in front of the others.

It was a massive shock for all of them.

But none more so than Janus himself.

The hurried scraping of the chair told Virgil that Janus wasn’t wasting any time in getting to him, just the sound alone reminded Virgil of a time when things had been different. When his caplet and hat didn’t exist, when the most flown thing that Janus had ever owned was a blanket that he kept constantly draped over his shoulders for no reason other than the fact that it was comfortable. He had thought that Janus would be okay without him, that if he were to go to the light sides to be listened to… Janus would be fine, and yet..

He had looked so different when he had finally shown himself to all of them.

The warm person he had grown up alongside might as well have been killed and replaced with the snarky vile person who had slapped Logan’s hand over his mouth the moment the logical side tried to reveal him to Thomas too soon. And the worst part was…

He had no idea what had happened to him, and he could only assume that him leaving had done it.

For good.

“Virgil? Virgil can you hear me?” Soft warm hands cupped his cheeks, as thumbs gingerly brushed away the tears that had made a mess of his face. Through the blurring of his eyesight it almost appeared to be Patton who had come to his rescue, however, blinking hastily up at the person his vision cleared enough to show him the worried face of Janus staring down at him. Fear, concern, and terror all mixing into one big emotion on the dishonest sides face, as the ungloved hands soothingly brushed his messy bangs out of his face. “Virgil?” Janus softly repeated, the snide tone that he had used the last time he had seen Virgil lost, and one of warmth replacing it as if he had never gone to begin with. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

The side in question hated the weakness that welled up in his chest at the warmth in Janus’ voice, it made him feel soft in his hands, like putty ready to be molded for whatever purpose. It felt genuine and.. and just so damn nice, like sinking into a warm back after a long day out in the cold snowy weather.

He hated even more how his bottom lip trembled, and more tears snuck their way down his face only to be brushed away by Janus’ fingers.

“Why did you change?” Virgil croaked out, he wanted to scream and shout this question, to seize Janus by the front of his shirt and shake him until he got his answer. But the emotions clogging his throat made it practically impossible to do much more than whisper, “You changed so much since I left… what happened? Why are you so different? Do you.. do you hate me?”

It would make sense, Virgil constantly acted like he hated Janus after he showed his face to Thomas. But after the other side’s personality seemed to go through such a drastic change… how could he not? It was like whoever was parading around in Janus’ skin loved to rub it in that he wasn’t the same anymore, that he was gone and that he would never go back to the way that things were before. All he wanted to know was why, and just how this had happened to Janus. Was it him? Was it Remus? Or… was this the person that Janus had finally become after having to deal with him for far too long?

He hated who Janus had become, and he hated not knowing why even more.

All was silent around the table, with Roman and Logan trading looks between the two of them and Patton looking as if he’d love nothing more than to quell whatever pain was inside Virgil. Although he knew this time.. this time it was up to someone else to deal with that emotional turmoil now, it was his turn to watch and provide support from the sidelines.

A heavy kind of sigh left Janus’ lips, “Virgil…” He mumbled softly, stooping down even lower so that he could wrap his arms around the anxious side, allowing his chin to rest right on the other’s shoulder leaving his mouth right next to Virgil’s ear. “I… Can’t.” He guiltily mumbled out, he wanted nothing more than to blurt everything out to Virgil, especially seeing how his “change” had hurt the anxious side so much. But he couldn’t, not like this in the very least, not with Patton watching and certainly not in such a desperate kind of moment. He needed everyone to be calm when he explained everything, so that it could all be explained correctly without any kind of misunderstandings.

Regret boiled in his gut as Virgil’s eyes filled with a hurt kind of betrayal stilling the anxious side completely. The fingers that rested on his back dug almost painfully deep as it clenched the fabric of his shirt, as Virgil chewed angrily onto his bottom lip. That alone told him that Virgil wished to do more, to scream, yell, and tear into him. But he held back, if only by digging his fingers in deeper in an attempt to tame to his famous temper from doing those things.

Regardless, Janus endured it.

Janus’ voice was no louder than it needed to be for Virgil and Virgil alone to hear the secret that was finally coming to light. “I promise,” Janus’ arms squeezed Virgil a little tighter, a grimace appearing on the dishonest side’s face. “I can’t tell you right now, but I will soon, it’s just…” Janus relaxed slightly as Virgil’s grip on him eased just the tiniest bit. “I am quite scared, both of your reaction as well as Patton’s and Thomas’. But I’ll tell you why, you just.. you just have to trust me a little.”

Virgil wanted to shout at Janus.

Not only had Janus almost burned all of his bridges with Virgil, but it had hurt all of them a lot. And for what? Virgil had started to hate him, he had almost convinced Thomas to never ever take what Janus said as any kind of value. He had tried his hardest to fight back against Janus, he had tried to stamp the other side down before he could ever get the chance to tell Thomas any kind of thing. And for what? For the sake of being the bad guy?!

Oh...

Oh.

The bad guy…

He had been the bad guy once hadn’t he? Hadn’t he?

He’d tried to use fear and intimidation to make Thomas listen to him for once, when he had first shown himself to Thomas he’d scared the man so badly that he had tried to use Roman to get rid of him. Roman who now was looking at him from across the table with a wary kind of understanding in his eyes, he had to have known. It was impossible for him not to, not the with the kind of looks he was shooting Virgil right now. Maybe he hadn’t known right off the bat, but when Logan had revealed he had been talking to Janus, Roman hadn’t been at all surprised. He had even attempted to defend Janus when he hadn’t even been there, as well as when Virgil had been talking badly about him.

He’d known.

It was hard not feel a sense of betrayal washing over him, after all, in the past he had been much closer to Janus than Roman and Logan ever was. They knew something that he definitely didn’t about Janus, and it was something to do about how Janus seemed to do a complete 360 in terms of personality. Especially with how coldly Logan had defended Janus from Virgil, only to be backed up by Roman. They were all in one big secret that was being kept from him, a secret that was well within arms reach right this very second.

However, before he could fully allow the stinging betrayal to hold any sway over his heart…

A part of him felt as if Janus was justified in this and that… that Virgil should have known well before all of this had gone down in the first place.

He had been where Janus was after all.

He had walked the same path as Janus almost a year beforehand, he knew what it was liked to be shunned by everyone around him. He could have helped, he.. he should have helped instead of relying on his gut instinct that had proved him wrong multiple times.

“So which one was it?” Virgil dryly croaked in a whisper, feeling Janus’ startle he quickly elaborated. “I have the feeling that you were dead set about going in for the long game. So… was it Roman or Logan that urged you to give it up?” It had to be one of the two, or even both of them. Janus was a patient person, to the point where he could spend months let alone years trying to do something.

It wouldn’t have surprised him in the least.

Janus chest rumbled with a tiny uneasy laugh, “It was actually Roman,” He softly admitted, feeling the creative side’s gaze burning through his back and scorching Virgil. “He actually busted into my room one night to confront me after our last… altercation involving my name. Scared me shitless at the time too, I thought he had come to take off my head or something...”

“Oh really?” Virgil’s eyebrow dangerously quirked upwards, as he locked eyes with Roman. The dark rolling sensation only slightly satisfied when Roman glanced away from him, “So when exactly are you going to tell me what he knows? Or for that matter, let me into your room?”

Something warm blossomed in Janus' heart at Virgil's question, it reassured him, in just the slightest little bit that when he told Virgil the truth… the anxious side wouldn't hate him for it and that perhaps they could once again be friends.

"Anytime." Janus gradually raised his voice, finally allowing Patton and the others to hear what was being said between them. "My door will always be open to you Virgil. It always has been."

#patton sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil angst #janus angst #ts sides #ts sanders sides #sanders sides #ts sanders sides fanfic #ts sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

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shallow or deep

— “Why would you want a guy with such a large and disgusting burn?” he whispered, his tone thoroughly rejected, broken. It was then that it hit you: did he think he wasn't good enough for you. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, angst (insecurities), cursing

word count: 2,544

a/n: I took the shouto has an insecurity over his scar even if it isnt that deep headcanon and ran with it, I hope yall enjoy this!!!! its been awhile since ive managed to write a fic in a single day!!!

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“You’re quite the handsome man!”

“Oh, thank you.”

“But that scar... don’t you want to get that fixed? I know someone with a quirk who can fix that up for you!”

“Thank you for your concern, but I think I am content with it.”

“Without a doubt, you are by far one of the most attractive Pro Heroes to have existed!”

“Thank you for your compliment, but I think it’s my ability to—”

“Don’t you think you would look hotter without your scar? Have you ever considered getting it removed?”

“...no, I haven’t…”

“Just imagine how Shouto would look like without his scar, here are some edited pictures for reference!”

“Wow, if I didn’t want to give him my life already, I would sell my soul to the devil to get with a scarless Shouto…”

“I don’t know, I think the scars sexy! Like look at it, it makes him so mysterious and badass! Guys with scars are so fucking hot! But in my opinion, without the scar? Shouto isn’t shit!”

“Guys with scars are hot, I’ll give you that, but not one-fourth of the face scars! He’s extremely handsome still, but it’s a bit tacky for the scar to be there. If it had been like Deku’s arm and hand scars — hell, even Eraserheads face scar — he would be so much finer.”

“And just how did you get your scar, Shouto?”

The American interviewer who sat in front of Shouto during this live national interview had the kindest smile on her face, but to the Pro Heroes who sat on the stage alongside Shouto could recognize that shark-like glint in her eyes. Her face was calm, tranquil, beautiful, but her eyes sent bitter acid through the Heroes mouth.

“I’ve already explained what happened in a previous interview,” Shouto spoke calmly, his fingers digging into his knees.

Your eyes looked over to your boyfriend, who seemed to be trying everything in his power to remain calm. You’d only seen this happen through a screen, never in real life.

The interviewer seemed unconcerned with his rebuttal, most likely expecting this from the man who wasn’t one for repeating big stories. Her chin tilted up almost like she was looking down on him, looking down on who he was.

“Well then, I’ll bite,” she leaned forward, and you felt on edge to attack, but a hand gripped your wrist when a cruel smirk spread on her face. “Do you resent your mother for burning you that night? How do you feel about the fact that it was your mother who ruined your charming looks?”

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The car was silent.

Your eyes tried to remain focused on the road ahead of you, but to your misplaced anger and hurt, you focused on the side of Shouto’s face every so often while he drove.

The radio wasn’t even on, something the both of you enjoyed blasting because you would sing stupidly loud and Shouto would hum along in his own mirth. The only sound heard was the tires driving against the gravel road and your irritated breathing.

The two of you had dropped off your friends five minutes ago, the once awkwardly tense car melting to this angry silence between the two of you in the front.

You hadn’t defended him on live television because Momo held you back, and Shouto allowed the interviewer to defile his family’s past abuse with her keen touch. The silence between the two of you was also irritating you.

Once the interview was done, Shouto had been the first to rise from his chair and to leave. And you were hot on his heels. You hadn’t been forgiving to Shouto when you finally corned him.

“How could you let her talk to you like that, Shouto?” you blazoned, your heart hammering in your chest, anger, humiliation, and sorrow riling you up. “She was a total fucking cunt, and you just took it!”

Shouto stared down at you, that old yet familiar distant look in his eyes — that anger that burned brighter than any fire he could produce flaming in both eyes.

“Drop it, y/n,” he all but hissed, his face stone, his tone fierce. “You don’t need to fight every single fucking thing that makes me uncomfortable.”

Those words weren’t enough to make you drop it, had it been any other fight you would have continued to press him for what was wrong with him, but it was that look in his eyes. The old look that you had sworn long ago you’d never allow to meet his eyes again.

The anger, humiliation, and broken look that he used to wear every day.

When Shouto finally parked, he didn’t hesitate to get out of the car, the door slamming loudly while you stumbled to follow after him.

But he was tall, too tall, and was in the house well before you could close your own door. It didn’t deter the way that you stormed towards the house, the devil, and god riding on your shoulder in this battle to figure out what the hell was wrong with Shouto.

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“I don’t resent my mother,” Shouto cooly stated. “It was an unfortunate accident, but fortunately, it hasn’t kept me from anything. I still have complete sight and functionality, so I’m okay. I could never resent my mother.”

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“Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” you ask, coming into the house.

This was Shouto’s house, something that Endeavor had gifted to him in his expression of apology. He and his siblings had been given their own homes the moment they turned twenty, and shortly after starting your relationship, he had asked you to move in.

You both were now twenty-three. You were neither each other's firsts on many levels, but there was no denying that this was the best relationship the both of you had. You comforted each other to no level, loved each other like no other. It was almost a shame that you didn’t have any feelings for your old classmate during high school because maybe then you’d been together for longer than a year.

But nevertheless, the two of you held no regrets. His house had become yours with him.

It was a bright place, no matter how dull the day was, it was always vivacious and warm in here.

But not now.

The door closed behind you, and you saw Shouto standing at the kitchen table, head lowered, arms tense. The world seemed grey, dull, and cold. You almost swore the house’s temperature was ten degrees cooler while you approached your boyfriend, who appeared to be trapped in his thoughts.

You neared him, your own anger diminishing slowly when you saw the shadows over his eyes, his teeth gnashing in a grit.

Sorrow, humiliation, guilt.

That’s all you could read from him, but you needed more from him.

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The interviewer seems to have expected that answer for she remains unfazed, but that predatorial glint in her eyes remains. The eyes of someone who hasn’t shown off their strongest of cards.

“How about relationship-wise? Have any of the beautiful ladies you’ve dated or have wanted to court in the past told you that you’d be much more handsome without it? Don’t you wish that you could be more normal for y/h/n?”

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“Why would you want a guy with such a large and disgusting burn?” he whispered, his tone thoroughly rejected, broken. It was then that it hit you: did he think he wasn't good enough for you.

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You stood up, the chair you were sitting on scraping loudly against the black floor. The interviewer snapped her attention on you for just a moment, eyes sparkling with the thrill of getting a dramatic reaction from someone.

But Momo and Uraraka held you down, and Sero’s tape came across your mouth to keep you from talking your mind.

“There have been words like that before,” Shouto says, his voice steely smooth. “But as you can see, I’m not dating anyone who shares those same opinions.”

The interviewer seemed to deflate at that answer, obviously not the juicy breakdown she was hoping for. She continued down the mass interview with the most successful class from UA’s hero program, and you continued to fume in your seat. Anger that couldn’t even be quieted by the sour emotions coming off of Shouto in large waves.

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“W-What?” you say almost in a horrified whisper.

Your eyes were wide, unsure if you had heard Shouto correctly. You prayed you had. A fist clenched on your chest, your gaze followed Shouto’s clouded face when he stood up completely.

“You heard me right,” he repeats, his focus on the wall. Finally, his blue and grey eyes focus on you; they’re distant, so far away, you weren’t sure if you could get him back anytime soon. A soft sigh ragged in his chest, nearly choking in his throat when he looked at you. “I was never insecure about my scar growing up… I didn’t have anything in sight except for wanting to be a hero, and hell, even through high school, it didn’t matter. No one in our class mentioned it, and I went on to believe that it while it wasn’t normal, it was in some way.” His hands found your cheeks, pressing onto them gently, and you could feel them tremble slightly. “Then I finally liked someone romantically, and we were thrust into the crazy world of media, and I realized that my burn isn’t normal.”

“S-Shouto…”

“The first person I ever dated told me they knew someone who would fix it up for me for free. The second person… well, they were an idiot and thought if we had children, the burn would be transferred over. More and more people both privately and publicly told me that I would be s-so much better without it… Do you think I’d be better without it?” his lips twisted, and you could only stare up in his eyes that seemed so far away so broken. “Even the ones who liked it, it was some weird fetish of theirs… the truth is, I don’t know how to feel about it. I shouldn’t hate it because it’s who I am, but I hate it because people always have some opinion about it, and no matter what I hear, it always pisses me off. I just… you’re beautiful, y/n. You’re the person in my life that I never want to see leave, and I know that it’s shallow to value people only for their beauty, but I’m not beautiful. Scars and burns are not beautiful, they’re ugly... My looks are decent at best, but that’s all that makes me desirable. Not you, though. You’re gorgeous, your personality and attitude never fail to make everyone feel better, and yet you’re here with me… why would you love someone like me?”

There it was.

His eyes kept to your feet as if he wasn’t worthy of staring you in the face. His hands continue to hold against you in a weak grasp, as if he pressed any harder against you, you would crumble to dust or say you hated him.

Your hands grasped his wrists, pressing his hands even more against your skin. It was an intense action, so out of the blue that his eyes snapped up to meet yours finally.

Shouto wasn’t sure what to expect when he looked at your face; he knew you were upset about the interview, and truthfully he wished he hadn’t warned Uraraka, Momo, and Sero to keep you down when those questions were asked — should they have been proposed. He also expected tears, you were always one to be more emotional than he was.

What he didn’t expect were steely yet warm eyes.

“You’re an idiot, Todoroki Shouto,” you finally speak. You took a step closer to him, your heartbeat in your throat. This was a raw Shouto standing before you. A Shouto, you had no idea how he reacted, no matter how much you knew him. So, if this was a rebuilding scene, a moment to get him to see what you saw, you would take it. “You’re right, scars and burns are ugly. They shouldn’t be romanticized. It’s also not the same as others, who take scars as a sign of overcoming hardships and victory. Your scar is one of a kind… but like you’ve said, shallow traits aren’t enough…” Your chin trembled just the slightest bit, but you couldn’t let yourself cry. No, you had to be strong for him. “You’re the kindest person I know, which knowing the saint that is Midoriya and All Might, it means a lot. I don’t mean it because you’re my boyfriend, or because I want you to feel better, but you had every reason to not be kind in your life and look at you, you’re gentle, you’re sweet. You also speak your mind, no matter what. Your opinions are valuable, and that’s why you’re such a great leader. You were made to become a hero that surpassed All Might, and you did it without ever once going down the road your father had intended for you. You did that. But if we’re going to be looking at the shallow traits, we can do that.

Your scar is a sign of growth. It’s ugly, and it’s beautiful. It’s ugly because it makes you feel like you’re not good for me. It’s ugly because it was such a dark time for you when it came. It’s ugly because it’s an insecurity. But I also see beauty. It’s beautiful because it’s another place I can tenderly love at night. It’s beautiful because who you were back then is just a scar of who you were. It’s beautiful because it’s a source of your strength despite it all. You can think whatever you want of it, Shouto, think it’s good or bad, but because it’s apart of you I have to and I choose to love it. Why would I ever want you to change who you are if you’re comfortable with it? What kind of lover would I be if I decided to love everything but one part of you?” your fingers trailed to his scarred skin, the red skin forever warm under your touch. “Shallow or deep, I will never stop loving you.”

Tears fell from his eyes, and his lips crashed against yours.

The two of you sink to the floor in this wet and sweet embrace. Lips never tearing from each other, fingers wistfully holding on, a silent prayer to each other of your devotions, and hope to never leave each other’s sides. Your fingers continued to stroke against his scar, and he held you so close until you could no longer kiss.

So your wet and bruised lips pressed against his warm scar, gentle and soft reminders that you were there for him until his faint cries became steady breathing.

Todoroki Shouto may never get over the insecurity of his scar, but he’d be damned if he thought for a second whether it was there or not, you’d love him any more or any less. You loved him entirely, and for that, he was forever grateful.

#todoroki shouto #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha x reader

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gallickingun · 4 years ago

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who i am today will love {whoever you are tomorrow} || s.k.

SUMMARY: Sugawara Koushi has managed to get you to fall in love with him once. He will not let a simple case of transient global amnesia keep him from sweeping you off of your feet time and time again, until he has you enraptured once more.

PAIRING: Sugawara Koushi x Fem!Reader RATINGS: T+ WARNINGS: angst. literally just all angst. a little fluff here and there. but mostly angst. some language, a little bit of relationship struggle, but nothing too intense! WORD COUNT: 6k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’m not very happy with this, but this is my post for the Haikyuu Headquarters SFW collab centered around the prompt Amnesia! Please check out all of the other rad fics HERE! I haven’t written a full length fic for Sugawara yet, but apparently my first one is going to be Angst City. I hope you all enjoy 💔

Sugawara knew from the moment he saw you that you were going to be the puzzle he was trying to put together for the rest of his days.

He would spend moment after moment trying to piece together the parts of you that created this wonderful masterpiece, the prettiest picture he could never have even imagined would grace his life. He is careful with your sharp edges, the pieces of you that have been forged by years of difficult situations you have had to claw yourself out of.

There were pieces of you that fit into place easily, of course. The softest sides of you which you bared to him from the day you met him. Your smile, the color of your eyes, the way your cheeks lift when you grin. He knows these parts by heart, has run his fingertips over them countless times, until he has memorized the exact curve of them, until he can put them into place without looking.

You are like hieroglyphs from a long-lost language, something incomprehensible if only because you are so cryptically enticing, hiding pieces of yourself for him to discover throughout the years that you develop your friendship and eventual love.

There are days where Sugawara could spend every waking moment between the blinks of his pale lashes purely studying you, irises narrowed as he watches the way your body moves, the way your hands tense at your sides. He notices the quirk of your lips and the curl of your toes when you get anxious, how you gnaw on the inside of your cheek, and how your forehead wrinkles. At times, he breaks himself away from his study long enough to press a warm, gentle kiss to the crinkled skin of your forehead, coaxing you from the prison of your mind, begging you to relax under his ministration. You will reach out, fisting the fabric of his shirt as timidly as you can within your knuckles, and he feels your skin go lax.

When he pulls away to gaze down into the beautiful shade of your irises, Sugawara feels safe, like there is a nestled home tucked away in your pupils that he can retreat to when life becomes too much, too overwhelming. His heart patters within his chest and he knows that if you were to peel his shirt away, you’d find a bruise in the shape of the organ outlined in bright purple and blue on his porcelain skin, like a small galaxy of pain that represents the intensity of his love for you.

Koushi’s hands reach for you in the dead of night, his head resting on your shoulder so he can breathe in your familiarity, and the closeness of you settles in on him as a weighted blanket would. Your presence alone calms him, and the feel of your skin beneath the pads of his fingers only adds to the reverie. His fingerprints dance underneath the thin fabric of his tee shirt that is clad on your body, your body second nature to his touch, and he can map out your ribs and hips with ease. He kisses your shoulder and his eyelashes flutter shut, the awareness of your proximity making him feel safe.

Every day is a new day to find a new piece of your beautiful puzzle, Sugawara thinks as he drifts off into the realm of unconsciousness. And he cannot wait to wake up to discover the next, most unique piece in the morning.

Only, when his eyes peel back as the sun rises the next morning, his perfect puzzle has been ruined, torn apart and left for scraps, and now there is a piece missing.

“Wh-Who are you?” Your voice is a stutter, eyes bright and wild, feral in the worst way. You cower away from him, holding yourself together as though you might shatter if you breath a moment longer, “Why are you in my bed?”

Sugawara laughs at first, if only because he cannot believe that this is something more than a prank at best. He reaches for you, fingertips barely grazing the hem of your shirt sleeve as you skitter away from him. Your body falters as you fall from the bed, and the last thing he sees before you plummet to the floor is the way your irises are engulfed by your pupils until your orbs look inked out with darkness, a void quality to them that makes his heart wrench within his chest.

“Love, c’mon,” Sugawara crawls across the mattress so he can get a look at you, still clinging desperately to the idea that this is a sick joke that you are playing on him – where are the hidden cameras? What will Daichi and Asahi think of this when you send them the video?

Your jawline is trembling, your teeth clenched together so tightly that the muscles are quivering, and you shake your head, “I-I don’t know you, wh-who are you?”

Koushi clambers from the bed to stand near you, arms crossed over his chest as he looks down where you are still a mess of limbs on the floor, a blanket you found discarded beside the bed wrapped around your partially bare body. He shakes his head, his chin wobbling as reality sets in, “Sweetheart, this isn’t funny. Cut the crap. What’s going on?”

When you shout, voice in a frenzy because you do not recognize the man loitering over you like a thundercloud, Sugawara feels lightning strike his heart and shatter it into a thousand pieces. Shards of emotion lodge into his chest as you speak next, “Please d-don’t hurt me!”

He was unaware to the tears building up behind his lids until he feels the wetness of a saltine droplet drip down his cheek, collecting on his jaw before dripping onto the floor. Sugawara’s hands shudder and he reaches down for you, “I think we need to take you to the hospital.”

“I-I’m not going anywhere with you,” you are biting in your tone, a resonance to the fiery personality you have shown him all your natural born life.

You have known him since you were a child, infatuated with him since you were teenagers, encapsulated in love with him once you turned twenty-two, and now you have been married for three wonderful years.

And yet, the frightened look in your eyes, the tears that make your irises glassy, tells him that there may be no coming back from this, that he cannot rely on the years before this very moment to build back what seems to have broken. Sugawara’s hands shake and you can tell, but that does not keep your breath from shuddering in your lungs, busting open your teeth as you release the pent-up oxygen.

“Please, love,” Sugawara’s voice is broken, each syllable grating against his esophagus as he forces them through his throat, but you cannot notice past your own panic, “let’s just get in the car, okay?”

Your body warms at the sound of the pet name, but you cannot place the fondness he has for you with the devoid space in your heart, although there is a quiet voice in the back of your mind telling you that he cares for you, and you for him. Even still, you have been birthed into this place as a confused creature, someone who does not know their purpose or intentions, and the only thing on your one-track mind is to find some answers to the intimidating list of questions percolating in your subconscious.

You know that he will not rest until you listen, and so the fight or flight response in your mind begins to flare until you tame it, stoking the fire down to embers as you rise to your feet. You grit your teeth and shake your head, signaling your defiance, but stumble towards the car nonetheless. You are not sure just how you knew where to go, like a blueprint has been embedded within your mind, but somehow you find your way despite the confusion clouding your thoughts like a raging storm.

Usually, Sugawara would reach across the console and buckle you into the front seat. Only now, as you shy away from his hand that reaches for your elbow, flinching when he gets too close, he realizes that so many of his second-nature tasks will have to be stubbed to a halt until you remember that you are a piece of his heart. He recoils from you, drawing his wrist back against his ribs, as if capturing himself, “It’s okay. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

You should hear the sincerity in his voice, but everything is a lie to you, even his kindness. Your body trembles as you pull the belt across your body, securing it into the latch with a gentle sound. Sugawara watches you closely, trying urgently not to seem like he is hovering over you, but the mission to keep you safe is still rooted firmly in his spine and he will not waver from it, even as you sit before him unknowing to all of the times he has done this very simple action for you.

There is this insatiable desire that sits in Sugawara’s gut, bubbling beneath the surface like a grotesque acid, tumultuous enough that he is steadily reminded of it’s presence, of it’s hungering need to keep you safe and happy, to keep you reliant on him. In the smallest of ways, such as holding your hand as you climb into the car, or buckling your belt for you, it makes him feel important, necessary. He has spent too much of his life feeling like he has been sidelined to warrant other’s have their moment to shine, and you allow him to stand center stage every day, even if the platform is only your heart.

It makes you feel special and it makes him feel strong, like a protective alpha animal. Your generous reliance on him allows his pride to swell, to balloon until his chest is held high and his chin is tilted upward. It may seem silly from the outside, but the way his torso sinks into a concave position as you shy away from him creates a void cavity in his chest that Sugawara is sure nothing else will ever fill.

He has never seen you resemble a frightened animal before, like you were too afraid he would throw you into a cage given your pensive stare and shaking limbs. Sugawara could not hunt you even if he wanted to, and the idea that you believe this is his intent makes a fresh wave of tears well up behind his lids, the heat of it all giving his face a dark flush, easy to see against his pale skin.

As you close your door, Sugawara thinks of how Daichi would handle this. He stalks from one side of the car to the other, the gears of his mind turning so loudly that he startles. A thick gulp rakes against his throat, making his neck bob as he imagines the advice Sawamura might give him in a time like this.

Daichi would not falter, would not crumble. No, the captain would not have tears in his eyes and fear in his heart, rather he would bolster his shoulders and steady his feet, holding his chin high as he did whatever needed to be done to ensure that you were taken care of. And so, Sugawara tightens the chains around his heart that have your name engraved upon them, guaranteeing the organ will not float away or sink down until there is a hole in the floor of the car.

Your newfound independence mocks him, even as you take charge in the hospital and tell the front desk nurse exactly how you are feeling. How can you be so articulate when you are so far gone from the woman he knew just the night prior? Have you truly turned into someone else? Will you ever love him the same as before?

Doubt digs into the base of his shoulders and rips his dark crows wings free. The appendages stand slaughtered at the ground, his eyes unable to waver as the doctor takes a pacing step back and forth at your bedside while he reads your charts. The part of Koushi that longs to keep you safe mocks him as his wings lay crumpled beneath his amber irises, pupils dilating to try and focus on the metaphor that has manifested in front of him in his delirious state.

He reaches out and his fingertips scrape linoleum where he expects to find wings, and he realizes that he truly is a clipped little thing, fallen to the ground with nowhere to go, no way to fly.

“It is a rare form of amnesia,” the doctor’s words reverberate in his mind relentlessly once they are spoken aloud for the first time, “she has forgotten everything prior to approximately fourteen hours ago.”

And oh, Sugawara has never wished more to be able to fly.

You are surprised as ever when he looks up at you, broken irises seeking you for answers, “Would you like to go home with me? Or I can always drop you off at your mother’s.”

The room goes quiet, and Sugawara swears he could hear a feather drift to the floor.

Your voice is trembling when you answer, “I want to go home…with you.”

It would seem the glittering diamond on your left hand, in tandem with the records the hospital has found regarding you and Sugawara Koushi, has given you some semblance of relief. At least enough to be willing to ride in the car with him again, to find solace in the home you two have built.

You toy with the ring as Sugawara looks at you with his jaw unhinged slightly, just enough for you to see the pink muscle of his tongue twitching on the bed of his mouth. You giggle, the first time he’s heard you laugh since this whole escapade began, and your eyes crinkle at the sides just how he remembered, “Well, the house is half mine, is it not?”

Sugawara cracks a smile and stands to his feet, shoulders creaking as he feels his barely-there wings begin to molt into something new. Not the same, no he will never be the same, not after this, but possibly still a semblance of the old thing, a reminder that maybe life can return to what it once was.

And so, he walks you to the car, hand hovering at the base of your spine, but not touching; he does not want to push away the small amount of progress that has been made in such a short amount of time. He treats you like a glass box, opening the door and shadowing you as you climb into the front seat. You feel the ghost of his fingertips, a heat along your spine, and you do not flinch, not this time.

“I’ll order dinner,” he says when the door has shut behind the both of you. “Do you want from that dumpling place you li-”

The words reverberate in the small space of your living room, a recollection of what once was casual between the two of you that is now something far-off and forgotten. You swallow thickly, your throat bobbing as you look away from him so you don’t have to face the fallen expression on his face when he realizes that he will have to rework his entire existence around your new condition.

Your heart freezes, clogging up your lungs and making it harder to breathe. Sugawara shrugs off his jacket and slips on his house shoes, forcing himself to move toward you, “There is this dumpling place I think you’ll like. Want to try it for dinner? I doubt either of us feel like cooking.”

Licking your lips, you turn to find him quite close to you, his hands hovering by his side. You wonder if he aches to touch you, if his fingers burn with the desire to reach forward and brush your hair away from your face. You take a short breath, collecting yourself before glancing up into his amber irises, warmth seeping from them directly into your bones through what feels like osmosis.

“Y-Yeah,” your voice catches in your throat once you take him all in. “That sounds, um, that sounds nice.”

Your body screams at you to either run away or hold him closer, and you’re not sure which part to listen to. You grit your teeth to bring yourself some clarity in the form of pain, but it only serves to make your head dizzier.

Sugawara Koushi is handsome, borderline pretty, and you are enraptured by the sight of him. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body, and the irrational side of your brain wants to succumb to the heat, to be engulfed by the flames. Instead, you tuck your arms around your midsection and pray for patience, “I’m going to go take a shower, Sugawara. If that’s okay?”

He winces at the sound of his formal name coming through your teeth, turning his head so he doesn’t show you the dismay that tugs on his features. He chuckles, but the sound is forced, “Of course, the bathroom is, uh, just through the bedroom and on the right. Towels are in the closet on the left.”

“Th-Thank you,” you nod your head, stepping past him to walk toward the bedroom. Out of what must be pure instinct, you reach forward and rest your hands on his hips to guide him away from your path.

Simultaneously, you both breathe in sharply, the oxygen piercing your lungs like a dagger.

Your eyes meet amber and for a half-second, you are overwhelmed at his closeness. You breathe in the scent of his cologne and shampoo and it brings you back to some place that was previously tucked far away in your mind. You wrap your fingers around his shirt, if only to push him away.

Before Sugawara can ask you what is going on, you have blown past him towards the bedroom, the door closed and locked behind you.

You press your back into the door, relishing in the coolness of the surface, praying that it will help to bring your mind back down to this realm from where it is floating somewhere between this universe and the next. You cannot make sense of any one stream of consciousness, begging every thread of yourself to return to the nucleus so you might take a moment to collect all of your thoughts and press them back into your head.

Clambering forward on your knees, you start the bath water, flipping the level to turn on the shower. Your body is so disconnected from your brain that you almost step into the tub fully clothed, but seeing your sock clad foot makes you pause before you soak your clothes. You swallow your inhibitions, trying to keep the tears locked behind your lids, and step out of your undergarments.

You have barely stepped underneath the steaming water before you break down into sobs and tears. You crumble to the bottom of the tub, your arms around your knees, your head tucked beneath your biceps, and you release every pent-up moment from the day in the form of salty tears dripping down your cheeks to mix with the streams of clean water from the showerhead above.

“Is this my life now?” you whimper to no one in particular, your voice muffled by your forearm. You sniffle and rub at your face, although it doesn’t much matter, given the water running down it in rivulets to hide your tears. You look at your palms, stretching your fingers in front of your face, curious if you’ve always looked like this, or if there was something different from when you woke up this morning.

The knowledge that you have no knowledge of who you were before this morning makes a fresh wave of nausea and tears roll through your body, making your spine shudder as you cry into your own cocoon of a body. A sob tears through your shoulders, and you feel like your eyes might fall out of your skull, they’re throbbing so intensely. You press the heels of your hands into your sockets until you see a full galaxy of inky planets and stars behind your lids. The pain was what you were hoping would bring you back to the present, merely multiplies the devastating hole in your chest.

This is not the first time you find yourself curled up in the bottom of the shower, your head leant against the tile wall as the water runs from searing to freezing while you contemplate your entire life existence.

Of course, Sugawara has been nothing but accommodating during this strange period of time. He has moved his items to the spare bedroom, even though most nights he favors the couch, given he finds it tough to fall asleep on his own. You have woken in the middle of the night to terrible dreams only to find the television playing a show that is trying to sell a rare set of jewelry or a stellar non-stick frying pan.

There is one night, a few months after your first visit to the hospital, when you gather enough confidence to carefully step into the living room and turn off the television. Sugawara stirs at the sudden change in light, his eyes barely cracking open, irises hardly peeking from behind his lids, but he is still able to spot you from where you are stood in front of him. He sits up as best he can, forcing his stiff body to straighten when he makes limited eye contact with you.

“H-Hey,” his voice is gruff, as if it were stuck in his throat, and you can’t help the flush of embarrassment that makes your cheeks burn at the sound. “What are you doing awake?”

You run your palm along the back of your neck, rubbing at your vertebrae anxiously, unable to keep your gaze narrowed in on him when he’s making you feel this way. Your toes curl in on one another and your socks find friction against the carpet, “Just another nightmare.”

Sugawara is at full attention now, the warmth in his irises tripling at your small voice and nervous posture. He sits so he is facing you, his palms on his knees, fingertips itching at the hem of his shorts to keep himself from reaching out to take you by the hands. He licks his lips and looks upward to try and make eye contact with you to no avail, your pretty orbs still hidden from him as you look away, “You’ve been having a lot of those lately, haven’t you?”

There is a beat of silence that passes between you before he adds, “I’ve been hearing your screams.”

This is all that it takes to crumble what little resolve is left cementing your heart together. You crumble to your knees, your hands covering your face so you do not bare your pitiful, glassy eyes to him. Sugawara is quick to react, catching you before your knees can find the carpet, pulling you close to cushion your fall. You do not care that you cannot remember what his hold felt like before you lost your memories, all that matters is how safe you feel now.

He is like an anchor to your flighty soul, keeping you bound tightly to this earthly plane instead of allowing you to float away to whatever universe your subconscious has been visiting since the day your whole world was rearranged. You cling to his shirt, your fists bunching up the fabric of his tee when you lean in closer until your temple is pressed to his neck.

“It’s okay, honey,” Sugawara’s voice is warm, like honey, and you wonder if it might seep into the cracks of your broken soul and seal you back together, “I’m right here, it’s okay.”

For a moment, you pretend that this is what you are used to. You allow your mind to believe that this is your normal, that this has how things have always been. And, in some sadistic, twisted way, you might be right. Maybe before you forgot what he smelled like and how he kissed, this was how he held you – firm and secure, sturdy as a rock and kind as a beam of sunshine. Your heart hammers in your ribs and you can’t stop the tears from flowing, from the feel of both of your hearts breaking in the small space between your bodies.

You wonder if his chest feels as tight as yours, as if your ribs are the only thing keeping your hearts from bursting directly out of your skin. The beating is loud, thunderous in your ears as you cry into his shoulder, staining his shirt dark with your tears. You sob and snot and cough, but never once does he judge you or push you away. All you hear is the gentle hush of his voice in your ear, reminding you that he is here, reminding you that everything will eventually be okay.

And for a split second, you believe him.

And without inhibition, you allow your heart to speak, your throat but a conduit for the emotions bubbling within your belly like lava.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” you admit, your chest splitting open as the lava sprays through your teeth, burning your mouth to ash, but somehow you still speak, “please, Koushi, I-I think- I think I need you.”

When you look up at him, the absolute adoration reflected back to you in shades of tawny brown, dark and light swirling within his irises until it is overwhelming you like a storm cloud. You suck in a deep breath and dive back in, tucking your head underneath his chin and wrapping your arms around his shoulders until you are conjoined, unsure of where he ends and you begin as you become a mess of limbs on the sofa.

“I’m right here,” he repeats in a whisper against the crown of your head, holding you around the waist and beneath the thighs as he stands with you still in his arms. You latch onto him tighter, curled around him like a frightened animal, and your place against his neck makes it so you cannot see the way his lips stretch into a smile.

This has been what he has craved for the past few months – a genuine closeness that you chose; you choosing him. Sugawara cradles your body as tightly as he can without hurting you, walking towards your bedroom with careful steps. Your toes curl as he settles back against the mattress, slowly guiding your body down with him so you are both laid out horizontally on the bed, your knees dug tightly into his sides and your fingertips still clutching his shoulders relentlessly.

Sugawara runs his fingers through your hair, ruffling your tresses in a soothing manner as his chest begins to rumble with a melody. Your whole body buzzes as his lips maneuver in the tendrils of your hair surrounding your face, mouth pressing warm kisses to your scalp as the humming grows louder, more confident. Tears are flowing silently down your cheeks, staining your skin and his shirt, but neither of you seem to care, rather paying attention to the way you soak one another in like you have been a person starved for water and this is your first sip after days without drink.

It takes you a few minutes, but his humming in tandem with the ministrations of his hands soothes your mind into a dreamlike state. You release your grip on his shirt, smoothing the wrinkles in the fabric, if only to give yourself something else to pay attention to other than his searching eyes. Sugawara allows you a moment of exploration before his index finger is crooked underneath your chin, tilting your jaw upward so he can look you directly in the eyes.

“Stop being so hard on yourself,” he murmurs, voice kind despite the circumstances, “you’re still learning, adjusting. It won’t happen overnight.”

“And if it never happens?” Your tone is curt, words biting. You grit your teeth together and the creaking of your molars makes your bones shudder. A wobbling chin gives way to another bout of tears, but you do not falter this time, rather looking him in the eyes than succumbing to the exhausting heave of another sob, “What if I’m never the same? What if I can’t- what if you don’t love this person?”

Sugawara’s hand drifts from your chin to your cheek, his thumb brushing along the apple of your face, swooping downward to trace your jaw. A gentle smile tugs on the corners of his mouth and you want to scold him for laughing at your pain, but the faraway look in his eyes suggests that he is thinking of another time, possibly one much more simple in nature where you were sitting on his lap just like this, but there was a stream of knowledge, of combined thought, that flowed between the two of you. You knew one another, backwards and forwards and inside out, but now there is a barrier built, one that has kept him from teaching you who you are and from you allowing him to take the chance to do such a thing.

He is kind, something you suspect he has always been, when his mouth unhinges to let his words out of their cage, “Better or worse, angel. And if this is the worst life has to throw at us, then so be it.”

There is a hesitancy in his gaze, but he leans forward to brush a kiss against your cheek despite it, “I would rather go through this with you than be in a picture-perfect situation with anyone else.”

The sight of him in tandem with the brutal, raw honesty of his beautiful words overwhelms you, like a wave crashing along the shore, suffocating the sand. You want to be the beach, to be greeted with his kissing crest each time he chooses to seek you out despite the call to the sea, and it is that thought alone that ignites your need to seek purchase with your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. Sugawara’s eyes go wide, if only because he does not want you to do this out of desperation or obligation, but out of choice and choice alone.

You can tell that he wants to say something, but before you lose your nerve and before he says something that will make the both of you overanalyze, you have crashed your mouth to his in a bruising kiss.

His fingers are hesitant to clutch at your sides, but once he realizes that you are not going to pull away, a familiar desperation sinks into his movements and he has you caught by the waist to anchor you to him. Your thumbs press into the pulse points on either side of his neck, like you were checking to make sure his heart is still beating. Sugawara’s breath stutters and he tilts his head so your chins bump to tear you apart, “Honey, I-”

“Kou,” your voice is quiet, seeking out solace in his silence.

Your tone is exploratory, and the sound of his given name shortened in the way you have said it a dozen times makes his head spin, but you sound awkward when you say it, as if you were taking it for a test drive and it’s not the car you were comfortable driving. You swallow and try again, “K-Kou, I want you to stay here tonight, with me.”

The edges of his thumbs slip beneath the hem of your shirt, and for the first time since he pushed his lids back earlier to take you in, he realizes that you’re clad in one of his old college tees. It was one of your favorites, a staple in your sleeping collection, a comforting item you sought out when you were distressed beyond measure. He wonders if your subconscious held on to this thought, and brought you this tattered, worn piece of clothing to give you some semblance of healing in your despondent time of need.

“As you wish,” Sugawara whispers against the bow of your lips, your mouths brushing with every syllable. He smiles, a gentle pecking kiss nestled on the corner of your cheek before he speaks again, “Now, we both need to rest.”

His words are accented by his body curling around you, turned to the side so he can wrap you up in the quilt that has been strewn across the bed in your haste of sleep. Your body is encased in warmth, a mixture of his natural body heat and the cocoon the blanket creates. The two of you tuck into one another as if you were built to be together, your pieces perfectly slotting into the spaces his body creates.

Silence stretches for what feels like hours, nothing but the sound of your beating hearts and quiet breaths to fill the air. You run your thumb along the stretch of his collarbone, gnawing on your lower lip as you work up the courage to speak.

“Go ahead,” his voice is gravelly with the desire to succumb to sleep, muffled from his position of being tucked into you, lips in your hair. “What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you whisper in fear, unable to recognize even your own voice. You swallow, the heat of tears welling up behind your lids already overwhelming enough without the stumble of your words to accent your anxiety, “And I’m scared I can’t be who you want me to be.”

Sugawara surprises you with a chuckle breathed into your hair, a light, lilting sound making his throat hum, “Oh, angel. You’re my everything, how could you ever be a burden to me?”

“I-I dunno,” you can feel yourself starting to panic, the darkness closing in on you until it’s choking you from the inside out, “Wh-What if I don’t laugh the way I used to? O-Or what if, uh, what if I don’t like the same foods? What if-”

You are hushed by the warmth of his mouth on yours, stealing your frightened, nonsensical words straight from your throat as you gasp against his teeth. A firm palm tilts your head upward, fingertips grazing the curve of your jaw and neck, soothing you with a simple touch. He massages his digits into your shoulder as he pulls away, watching carefully as you chase after him for another display of affection, as if you were searching for even more reassurance.

“Hush now, love,” he settles back into you, circling you in his arms and tucking your head beneath his chin. Your knee presses between his thighs and you find your hands nudging underneath his shirt, seeking out the skin-on-skin contact. Sugawara litters kisses in your hair, almost like he were planting a garden of affection, begging it to grow as he encourages it with kiss after kiss.

You are on the precipice of sleep, your body worn down from your anxious efforts of before, when you hear his next words mumbled into the skin of your neck, barely audible even in the utter silence of your bedroom. The few syllables make your heart press stiffly against your ribcage, begging to be let free, like a caged dove sitting pretty within the confines of your chest.

“And to think,” he whispers, “I get to fall in love with you all over again, every time. How exciting, right?”

You want to laugh, to indulge him in his monologue, but your body is heavy, weighed down from the tears and the pressure of all the time before this that you can remember. Finally, you feel like you are floating, the only thing keeping you tethered to this dimension is the cuff of his arms around your waist, circling you and holding you tight, piecing back together every broken part of your soul.

Sugawara’s breath tickles your ear, and you swear you hear him snore. And you might be making up the last few words that he breathes before he is overwhelmed by unconsciousness-

“I can’t wait to fall in love with whoever you are tomorrow.”

But you pray to whoever is listening that it’s the truth.

a/n: wow i wrote most of this while delirious and drinking yoohoo so please don’t come for me if it doesn’t make sense.

my original plot idea was to have reader have continuous amnesia where she forgets her memories every few years, and sugawara always manages to get her to fall in love with him every single time, but that fic would have been upwards of 20k and i didn’t allot myself enough time to write it, which i’m upset about. maybe i’ll do an extension of this fic sometime, but i just feel like it won’t be as impactful. u g h. alas, here we are. i hope that you enjoyed it! i plan to write more sugawara in the future. and thanks again to the hqhq for putting on this collab! the nsfw one is next -- i have daddy daichi for that one! 💕

#sugawara koushi #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara x you #sugawara x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #hq x you #hq x reader #hq x y/n #morgan writes hq #my writing #haikyuucreations

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years ago

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As Lightning to the Children eased Chapter 14

Chapter 14 is out! Read on AO3!

Padmé did not call Anakin out when she found him hiding in her living room, arms tugged beneath his knees, his chin resting on top of them. He didn’t look like he had gotten any sleep lately and she was not about to stop him from getting at least some rest.

Instead, he merely put a cup of tea in his hands and went about her work. Halfway through midday, she got the call she had been waiting for.

“Senator Organa,” she greeted her ally and friend. Bail Organa was a good man, friendly and charming on top, and Padmé wondered what would happen if she were to let him meet Obi-Wan sometime. The two seemed like the kind of people who’d get along like a house on fire. “How are you?”

“Quite well, thank you,” Bail replied. He glanced at Anakin once but didn’t further react to his presence. “And yourself?”

“Exhausted, if I’m honest,” Padmé said. “The war hasn’t even truly started and I already feel as if I’ve aged years, but let’s not linger on that. How is your charge?”

“Adjusting,” Bail said. “I offered to take him home to Breha, but he decided that he wanted to stay on Coruscant. I’m not sure whether it’s the proximity to the Jedi or if it’s because he has to protect me in turn for keeping him safe, but I decided it would be beneficial for his health to remain at my side.”

Padmé smiled at him, honestly and truly happy. “I’m relieved to hear that.”

Finally, some good news during this catastrophe. When the Jedi had taken them all back to Coruscant, nobody had been too sure what to do with little Boba Fett. Technically speaking, his father – no matter how undeserving Padmé thought him of the title – was a deceased criminal and there were enough people who wanted Boba to pay for his father’s crimes. Hi status as a clone also didn’t really improve his situation. Padmé would have taken Boba in himself, as would the Jedi, but neither was quite the right fit, and when Bail Organa had offered to take him in, then that was just good fortune.

“If you ever need someone to babysit, I can jump in last minute,” Padmé joked.

Bail smiled and nodded. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Padmé, but I believe Boba would protest quite heavily against being babysitted.”

“He can be part of my protective detail then,” she amended. “I’m sure he will do excellent work.”

The Council room was dead silent.

“You’re joking, aren’t you?” Qui-Gon asked, allowing disbelief to seep into his voice.

Whereas some of his fellow Masters smiled in tired exhaustion, others only rolled their eyes.

“A new member this Council needs,” Yoda said. “Wise in the Living Force you are and raised a brilliant Padawan you did. A new member of this Council you may be if you accept.”

Qui-Gon wondered what Dooku would say about this. His Master had already departed with his own clone battalion, heading straight to the Outer Rim and into the zones that promised the most gruesome battles. Dooku was a brilliant talker and given his relationship with the Senate, he’d probably be more useful on the Council than Qui-Gon. He had already been on the Council once.

Qui-Gon knew he was stubborn and thick-headed and unlikely to change his mind unless proven wrong. Both Dooku and Obi-Wan had told and shown him so often enough. Qui-Gon wasn’t chosen for delicate and amicable peace talks. He usually went to do the negotiations where they expected things to blow up, and more often than not, they did.

He was not the best option for a War Council, especially when he struggled to wield the Force as he used to.

“Why me?” he finally asked when he didn’t know what other question there was left to voice.

“Love this Order more than anyone else, you do. Had Knight and Padawan Skywalker not found their way here, found your way to them, you would have. Listen well to the world, you do. Not afraid to speak your words, you are. Ready for this, you are.”

Not yet. Speak first. Right a wrong, my dear child, explain your scars—

“I have to talk to Anakin,” Qui-Gon said, his heart hurting at the thought of the youth, yet rejoicing at finally getting a glimpse of the Force again. “I cannot give you an answer before I spoke to him.”

The Masters nodded and Qui-Gon left.

Anakin was easy to find, hiding away in one of the lowest accessible levels of the temple. These days, he was either at Obi-Wan’s sickbed when Obi-Wan was asleep, at his mother’s when she wasn’t telling him to finally go talk to Obi-Wan, hiding away in Padmé’s apartments or down here. Qui-Gon had first thought that Anakin would try to go deeper, search for what lingered beneath the warm marble of their temple, but he never moved from his spot.

“Anakin.”

The Padawan winced when his name was called, then slowly turned his head only to return to staring blankly at his hands. He looked absolutely miserable, tired too. Qui-Gon sighed.

“Do you remember the mission to Naboo? When we accompanied Padmé back to it?”

Anakin gave no sign that he was listening to Qui-Gon, but he decided to keep talking anyway. “When we entered the ship, you collapsed. Something set you off, something incredibly dark and harmful, and, best I could tell, it flipped a switch for you. Revealed something it shouldn’t have.”

Anakin’s hands curled to fists as Qui-Gon sat down next to him. “Obi-Wan and I didn’t know what to do, so we- no, I decided to do what I thought was best. I blocked those memories, dressed them up in kinder images.”

Even now, so many years later, Qui-Gon remembered it so clearly. The chains wrapped around Anakin’s entire body, the sun burning him, reminding him that he was not supposed to be there.

“And then, when you tried to heal me later on, you needed the knowledge that I had hidden from you to do better.”

“To let you die, you mean,” Anakin said. His voice was hoarse as if he hadn’t spoken in days. “It would have stopped me from resurrecting you.”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon agreed. “I would have died and it would have been alright because it was my time. My actions took away something you should be able to recognize subconsciously and I want to apologize for it.”

Silence followed Qui-Gon’s statement as they let his words linger. It was true. That he realized now. Whatever he had done, it had shifted something within Anakin that wasn’t meant to be shifted sideways.

“I think you made me human,” Anakin replied, wings unfurling as bones cracked. “I don’t think I was meant to be human.”

His eyes were still closed, but Qui-Gon could still fill all of them watching him, waiting for a reaction, a confirmation.

“No, you were not,” Qui-Gon replied. “And I’m sorry I made you something you weren’t supposed to be in my fear of what you might have become in that moment.”

“I want to be human,” Anakin muttered. He stretched out his fingers, sharp claws, golden like his teeth, bleeding as if from scratching his arms raw, trying to dissect himself and sew his flesh back together in the right way, anything less hurtful. “I don’t want to be like this. Everything is so loud and I’m always too much and if I get angry, I break the world apart. It isn’t fair that I can feel so much, but I’m not allowed to embrace it.”

“Oh, Anakin.” All thoughts of logically expressing this to his Grandpadawan were forgotten. “Who told you that you can’t embrace your emotions? You just can’t let them become too much. You can’t let them consume you. You need to find your balance again.”

Qui-Gon knew it was a cruel demand to make when he had been so afraid of what would become of Anakin almost a decade ago now. There was no telling whether Anakin would still exist once he found that balance again or whether he’d return to his silent parent. After all, what parent would abandon their child if not because they knew they weren’t needed anymore?

“I’m scared,” Anakin admitted. “I was afraid my mother would be put back together again wrongly if I healed her so I lashed out and murdered all of them in cold blood and then I was scared to lose Obi-Wan and instead he lost his arm because of me and I’m scared that if I try to fix me, I won’t be me at all. I know I can do it. I’ve been looking, I can see where you used your paint on me, but I just—”

Anakin looked up, bright blue eyes staring at Qui-Gon as he cried and wrapped his arms around him, hiding his face in his robes.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Gently, Qui-Gon held onto Anakin. How strange that a being as bright and strong as him needed an anchor as fragile as Qui-Gon. He ran his fingers through Anakin’s hair, humming a melody under his breath he’d been taught years ago on a small Mid Rim planet.

Minutes passed, hours without either of them moving until Anakin’s shoulders stopped trembling.

“I can’t tell you what the right path is, Anakin. You have to decide that for yourself. The only advice I can give you is this question: do you love the Jedi?”

“What?” Anakin’s confusion was painted across his face in broad brushstrokes.

Qui-Gon smiled. “I asked if you loved the Jedi?”

“Of course! You’re my home, my family! How could I not?”

“Good.” Qui-Gon nodded. “Then you will remind yourself of the fact that you love your family and that your family loves you every day and every action you take will be in this knowledge. Do not act against this love in your heart, Anakin, and may it ease the burden on your mind.”

May it guide you well.

Obi-Wan’s hand trembled. He hardly had any control over his new appendage and it frustrated him to no end. He was a perfectionist at heart, had spent hours training his fine motor control to become a Master of his form. He tried to keep his breathing under control, to focus, and not let the pain overwhelm him. If not for his own sake and to resist the temptation of just throwing his lightsaber halfway across the room, then for Anakin.

His Padawan already felt so guilty for Obi-Wan’s injury, he didn’t want to make him feel worse.

He couldn’t stand the thought of looking at Anakin’s sad eyes.

“Rough night?”

Obi-Wan turned his head around to find Shmi standing at the entrance of the training hall. Her injuries had healed well during her stay with the Healers, only a few faint scars across her face and shoulders revealing what she had been through. She was dressed ready for battle, wearing the new armor the Jedi had been given. Obi-Wan had tried it on once and immediately wished he could message Satine and ask her whether he could borrow one of hers for the war. Mandalorian armor was so much more comfortable.

Not that he thought the Jedi should wear any at all.

“Are you shipping out?” he asked.

“Yes, Dooku asked for backup. Apparently, he’s been dealing with a Sith apprentice – a different one than the one you encountered on Geonosis – and intends to chase her down. Someone must take over his battalion. Since he dragged me back home from Tatooine, I’ll return the favor.”

“Take Anakin with you,” Obi-Wan heard himself say. “He needs to get out of the temple.”

“You haven’t talked yet,” Shmi stated, her tone not allowing for any disagreement.

“No,” Obi-Wan agreed. “And I don’t think Anakin will talk to me as long as he hasn’t gotten a proper break. So, please?”

Shmi studied him for a moment, then she sighed. “Alright, but the moment you’re fit for duty, he’s your Padawan again.”

Obi-Wan managed to crack a smile at that. “Of course, I’d never trade him for another.”

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #shmi skywalker #fanfic

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memory-mortis · 4 years ago

Text

Little Kitten (Dio x Reader)

Why hello there! First of all, I have no clue what this is. It’s not smut. It’s not fluff either. It’s just... huh. A random idea I had like 2 days ago. Secondly, to all of you who sent me a request months ago, I am really sorry. Don’t worry! I am still working on them! But it’s taking really long because I just went through a small writing block and I was feeling a little depressed. I will finish them one day, it just might take a while. Anyway, without further ado, let’s get this bread

WC: 1.8k TW: blood, the usual Dio stuff

So this was supposed to be a self-insert, which means the reader was originally meant to be female, but now that I think about it, it could be perceived as gender neutral too. The reader wears dresses, but fuck it, boys and nonbinary folk can wear dresses too, fuck gender stereotypes amirite?

This one contains NSFW themes. 18+ only.

“My, my… what do we have here? A soaked little kitten.”

Those were the first words he ever spoke to you. They came within a fever dream, his voice coated in honey and silk, reaching for the deepest desires hidden within your soul. He clenched your heart in his fists, dug his sharp nails into its tender meat. Figuratively speaking, of course.

Lord Dio had found you on the side of the road, soaked from the rain, beaten and bruised. You were trembling, barely conscious, and the memory of him walking towards you, his steps reminiscent of those of a proud lion, was hazy and blurry. It is safe to say that you were very close to death, and you would’ve had perished had it not been for him. You couldn’t tell to this day why he chose you out of all the poor women lying on the street, but he took a liking to you and while many men and women came to his mansion only to never return home alive, he kept you by his side and even fed you. In return… he made you his little play toy. You didn’t mind. You had nowhere else to go, and no one had treated you as respectfully as Lord Dio. He knew your boundaries, and whenever you asked him to stop, he stopped, and that is exactly why you chose to accompany him to Egypt.

The full moon hung low over the streets of Cairo littered with dots of light created by street lamps. A cool breeze of fresh air poured in through the open window which you stood by, your eyes pinned to the view of the city that opened in front of you. You did not feel cold thanks to the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Lord Dio would freak out if you didn’t take care of yourself and that was the last thing you wanted. A sigh escaped your lips in the form of a cloud of mist. While the air in Egypt was hot and dry in the day, once the sun set, the temperatures dropped close to the freezing point. You admired your master for being able to sleep in the scorching heat. You had tried to adjust your own sleep schedule to match his but it was always just too hot to sleep and so you had to settle for seeing him late at night and early in the morning, despite how lonely that sometimes made you feel.

You started reminiscing of your first days spent with Lord Dio. The very first night he took you home you were sick and tired, so you didn’t protest when he cleaned you up and helped you get dressed into warm new clothes. Besides, from the aura he gave off, you knew you couldn’t escape even if you tried to.

“My poor little kitten, malnourished, your cheeks are so thin and your eyes so sunken,” he purred into your ear as he washed your hair. You were so exhausted you leaned back into his touch and didn’t move when he ran his hand over your throat. Dio was pleasantly surprised by your reaction, you could practically feel the smirk growing on his face as he leaned over to smell your neck. “So compliant, so submissive,” he whispered as he stroked your cheek. “I think I’ll keep you around.”

You were not a fool. You knew that Dio wasn’t human from first laying your eyes on him. Everything about him was so surreal, so ethereal, he was inhumanly gorgeous and radiated the glow of a supernatural being. You knew he was a vampire. It wasn’t your first time spotting one. But you didn’t mind. You didn’t care if you were just another meal for him. You fell prey not only to his predatory instincts and tendencies, but also to his otherworldly beauty. You craved every single look of those sharp, golden eyes, you needed his cold touch. His attention was a drug that kept you up at night.

To your surprise, it took weeks for him to show any interest in drinking your blood. In fact, he hadn’t shown himself to you at all in the first few days. Each morning, you would wake up to eggs, bread and tea on your nightstand, and every evening you would find dinner on the floor in front of your door. Lord Dio was elusive, nowhere to be found no matter how hard you tried. Sometimes you would run to the door upon hearing footsteps, only to find a completely empty hallway, and for a moment you thought that you were crazy or living in a haunted mansion.

But then… you found him. He was sitting in an armchair in the library, an open book in his lap. Despite having his back to you, he registered your presence.

“Hello there, kitten,” he greeted you without even looking at you. You shuddered at the sound of his voice, just as soft and alluring as you had remembered. Finally, he closed the book in his lap and set it aside, stood up and looked at you. The view was breathtaking. He gazed down at you hungrily, a couple of golden locks falling into his face. He had no shirt on and his broad chest and toned abs were clearly visible to you. You noticed the scar all around his neck and you would’ve questioned him about it had it not been for sudden anxiety rising within you. Before you could notice, he was behind you, brushing your hair aside to take a good look at your shoulder. “Hmm, you’ve put on some weight. Good, good… now you don’t look like a walking skeleton anymore. Tell me, kitten, what’s your name?” he asked, his voice low and somewhat comforting. You immediately felt at ease, as if intoxicated by his presence alone. “Y/n,” you answered obediently. “Y/n…” he rolled your name over his tongue as if savoring it, engraving it into his memory. “What a pretty name for a pretty little creature. Say, y/n,” he spoke in a low voice, his lips close to your ear. You couldn’t help but lean your head towards him in a trance, drunk from the vibes he radiated. You couldn’t explain it if you tried, but something about him made everything feel right. “What do you say about becoming my personal plaything? I’ll treat you well. I’ll take you everywhere I go.” You nodded all too furiously, which made him let out a chuckle that took your breath away. “Good, good,” he growled excitedly and in a matter of seconds he was gone and back in his armchair. “Go prepare yourself. There are some dresses in your closet. We’re dining together tonight.” You didn’t waste any more time.

Lord Dio didn’t need to eat. He mostly just watched you while drinking his wine. Or blood. Who knew what he held in that wine glass. At first you felt really awkward. The food was really good, but you didn’t like people watching you gobbling down on it. Eventually, however, you got used to it. Every now and then you would look up and see him either reading or smirking to himself. Sometimes, his eyes would linger on the lower parts of your body. The dresses he would bring you every now and then were very pretty, you almost felt like a doll in them. You rather didn’t ask where he got them. But what was even more exciting was him getting you out of them.

The first time, he was surprisingly gentle. You could tell that he wanted to ravish you right then and there, but he held back, just for you. You were his little kitten. He couldn’t let himself break you, at least not so soon. It was a difficult task, but he did his best to make it a pleasurable experience. Still, to this day, your favourite nights were those where he let himself slip. The ones where he would rip your dress to shreds, push your face deep into the sheets of his huge bed and tear your body apart. Every thrust of his hips felt like the first beat of your heart, every “little kitten” whispered in your ear brought you alive, the real you that was not afraid to scream. You didn’t care if Vanilla Ice, or anyone else for that matter, heard you. It was hard to do so with Dio’s cock stretching your insides, the spell he cast upon you made it hard to form a coherent thought during those times.

He loved to hear your moans, he loved the way you called out his name. It gave him an incredible power trip, and his satisfaction brought even more pleasure to you. He never even tried to tone you down. He liked it loud.

You ran your fingers over the laced choker around your neck. It was one of his many gifts, and by far your favourite. Because it was his favourite too. It quickly became a necessity to wear these. After all, you didn’t want to walk around with the bite marks on your throat exposed. He didn’t drink too much. Every now and then he would get excited during sex and drink more than usual, which caused you to be dizzy, but you didn’t mind this either. In fact, it became something of a pleasant ritual. Your brain connected the dots between drinking blood and breeding and after a while you were conditioned so well your core would throb if he so much as licked the wound.

You’d seen the corpses of all the women and men he would drain of all blood. Something about you was special, your blood was different. He said it was like a juicy cherry on top of a cake. That’s one of the reasons why he kept you around. That, and the fact that you didn’t really question his decisions.

“You’re up late,” lord Dio’s voice echoed from behind you and you didn’t even flinch when he put his hands on your shoulders. “Can’t sleep,” you mumbled. “Oh? What’s keeping you up? Need to burn some energy?” He stroked your cheek with his knuckles and you shuddered at his touch. He froze when he saw the tears welling up in your eyes, turned you around and lifted your chin up to take a proper look at your face. “What’s wrong, kitten? What’s making you shed those tears? Did someone try to hurt you?” You shook your head in response. “They’re getting close, aren’t they?” Though it was a question, your tone made it sound more like a statement. Dio went silent for a moment. “Are you worried about me, Dio?” he said with a growing smirk. “I am the greatest being alive. They can try to get as close as they want, there is no way they could ever lay a hand on me.”

You sniffled and did your best to stop your quivering lip. Dio looked at you like you were a fragile little flower, wiped the tear on your cheek away with his thumb and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Come, let’s go to the bedroom, little kitten. It seems that you need to be reminded of how powerful I am.”

#dio brando #dio jojo #dio x reader #dio x y/n #dio

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