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angelamajiki · 4 years ago

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PARINGS: Shouta Aizawa x Reader

CW: yandere, stalking, rape/noncon, pain kink, pain play, mild scent kink, home invasion, gags, restraints, virginity kink, scumbag aizawa, pet play, humiliation, cum stuffing, fingerings, snowballing, voice kink

SYNOPSIS: You have been calling the same phone sex operator for months, creating stalker and CNC fantasies. What happens when he rings true to his words?

AN: this is very dark, be warned! just had to make a fic out of the little idea I had <3

It’s always you who requests him. He can tell you're a virgin, the way your voice wavers when you feel like responding to him. Sometimes you don’t, letting your breathy moans do the talking for you.

“Good little girl.”

“Getting off to a phone call from your stalker? What a whore.”

“Cum for me, pretty girl.”

”Do you like that, pretty little kitty?”

He never had a knack for giving nicknames, but he had to make it known that he remembers you. Remembers that voice. Hopefully, he’ll be able to remember your body one day.

Tracking you down was easy enough; you didn't bother to block your number and public records was just calling his name. God did he love untouched girls like yourself. So wet and pliant, so easily manipulated, so naive to believe everyone had good intentions.

Cameras were placed around your house so he could watch you when he couldn't hear you. If it was a stalker you wanted, he was going to give it to you.

You called often and asked for him always—such an obedient girl. The live feed from your bedroom streamed in front of him whenever you rang, but he was tired of playing games this week.

“Just look at the way you’re kneading yourself; you like to tease yourself. Don't you, kitty?”

Your breath hitched, but he knew it wasn't from pleasure. Looking around, he chuckled at your confused expression.

“You got a real cute face, you know that kitty? I can't wait to fuck it one day.”

Be rational, you told yourself. Its all part of the fantasy, right? He can’t actually see you.

“That’s a cute bed spread you got there, I didn’t take you for the type who liked lilies. You always keep roses in your kitchen vase.”

Okay, he was definitely listening to you now.

“Say, you live on 14th Street, don't you? Why don't I come down and give you an in person session?”

“What do you say, kitty? Or should I just break in like I always tell you I would?”

The phone hung up after that comment. Sure, you were up to the fantasy of being stalked and raped; that’s why you called him. It was too embarrassing to tell a partner your fantasies, not like you had one. Or roommates for that matter.

His voice is what soothed you after a hard day, but now it kept ringing in your ears. Listening to his breathy chuckles sent shivers down your spine, but you never expected to feel them there.

Three raps came from your bedroom door before it opened. You were buried in your sheets, hopelessly, desperately attempting to be asleep. Like that would stop him.

“I know you're awake.”

An “ah” of realization came from him.

“Unless you sleeping peacefully is part of the fantasy. This is new, but I can indulge you in that kitty.”

The bed dipped and creaked with his weight, fear sinking into your heart further as a hand smoothed itself over your shoulders.

“So tense.” He tutted. “I’ve got something that can help you relax.”

His tongue lapped at the outer shell of your ear; arm slung over your blanketed body.

“Such a naughty girl. Tell me, how many times did you get off to the sound of my voice telling you I was going to take your virginity by force.”

A hand snaked its way up to your throat, squeezing gently enough not to cause pain but enough to cut off part of your air.

“Tell me you want me to rape you, here and now. Or I’ll take you out to the alley and make a display of it.”

His voice barely reached above of a whisper the entire time, the same soft sound he used over the phone. Hot breaths tickled your ear and neck as you squirmed, gasping at straws for air.

“I promise to be gentle; I know you like a tender man who takes what he wants.”

Your throat restricted even more under the hand to the point where you felt light-headed.

“Please!” You gasped, using your nails to scratch at his wrapped fingers. The pressure withdrew.

“Please what, kitty? C’mon, you can do it.”

“P-Please rape me.”

A sharp laugh came from behind you.

“Is that any way to address me? I thought we were using special nicknames here.”

He let you have your moment, apparently amused to see you choke for air as he stroked your back.

“Please rape me...sir.”

“Atta girl.”

The hand made its way back to your throat, only resting there as the thumb stroked over your tender flesh. The other one snuck under the blanket and groped at your chest.

“You're a virgin, aren't you, kitty? Don't worry; your owner is going to talk you through it. Nice and slow so you feel everything I'm giving you.”

Fingers wiggled their way under your bra and began pinching at your nipples, tugging and pulling at the hardening nubs.

“Stop squirming, or I’ll have to tie you up. You'll get your treat soon enough, kitty.”

You yelped after a particularly rough tug, tears springing in your eyes. His one hand managed to rip your bra apart, giving better access to his perverted fingers.

“I know you like it, the way I knead your pretty little breasts. Come, take your clothes off. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Everything came off before he instructed you to stand at the edge of the bed for him. He circled you like a predator, making inspections.

“I have to make sure my kitty is well-groomed and taking care of herself.”

The weight of his hot breath on your skin weighed down on you, pulling you further under his spell. He lifted your arms and smelled your scent.

“Lavender deodorant? What a shame; I wished I could have smelled your natural musk.”

Humiliation flushed your face hot. Disgusting pervert, it seemed he was into everything as long as it wasn't consensual.

“Sit down on the bed, legs spread.”

The baritone of his voice shook you to your core, but not in the pleasurable way you're used to.

“Don't make me ask twice, pet.”

His command was hard to ignore after following them for such a long time; it was practically instinctual to do as you were told. Shaking legs spread as you turned your head to the side. Another tut rolled off his tongue as he gripped your cheeks with one hand.

“Don't turn away from me. I want to see the look in yours when I take you and make you mine.”

You hadn't even realized before that he had brought a bag with him. From it, he took a bar spreader, rope, and a spider gag, all of which he put on you. The gag made your mouth uncomfortably wide, leaving nothing to his imagination.

Rough fingers pull you tongue from your mouth, his own coming down to lick at before spitting down the back of your throat.

“Swallow.”

You did.

“Good kitty.”

The name didn't comfort you anymore. Nothing about him comforted you anymore. Not his voice, not his nickname, and certainly not his breath, which you felt like was burning all over your body.

“I’m going to be nice and leave your throat alone today. However, if I give you a treat, you will swallow it. Do I make myself clear?”

You nodded, terrified at the notion that he intended to come back after tonight. Crouching down in front of you, he inspected your wet pussy before spitting on it as well. Gingerly moving your lips, he circled your tight hole and stood up.

“That should do.”

Watching him undress himself seemed to make time move slower, knowing that he was about to take your virginity within minutes. His hard cock sprung out from his boxers and hit his happy trail, bobbing slightly against his abs. Not only was this man toned, but he was also huge.

“In we go, kitty.”

Not even taking the courtesy to gather some slick from you, he pushed in, taking his sweet time as he locked eyes with you. He went agonizing slow, grinning as you wailed in pain.

“Hurts, doesn't it? Let's see how painful we can make this.”

You were hardly prepped, only having wetness left behind from your previous phone call. It stung, and it stung bad. Your eyes wept as you looked up at him with a pleading gaze, hoping he would take mercy on you. He did no such thing, pinching your clit between his fingers and rolling it with intense pressure. Moaning, he watched as you convulsed and twitched in pain beneath him.

“Being such a good girl for me, kitty.”

Another glob of spit landed in the back of your throat, making you gasp and choke on your sobs. He loved that you were an ugly, messy crier. It only served to make his dick harder.

Once he bottomed out, he stayed there for a while, letting you feel the fullness of his thick cock.

“The name’s Shouta, by the way. I'm sure you must have been curious.”

He spoke so casually, so calmly. It made you furious how collected he was while you were a whimpering, sniffling mess.

“Don't worry; we’ll have all the time in the world once we’re done to get to know me.”

Goddamn, that voice. That hypnotizing, nauseating voice. It's the reason you're stuck here underneath a fucking phone sex operator that turned out to be your stalker. What a mess.

A tap to the temple pulled you back to the present.

“Keep your focus here, kitty.”

Hips drew back and snapped into you, not letting you take a moment to adjust as he set a brutal speed.

Oh, how you wished you could leave your body, but if anything, your senses were all the more enhanced, taking in every last drop of your surroundings. The sounds of the bed creaking under his pounding, his grunts and breaths, the skin slapping against skin, your own cries of misery. The feeling of his breath, how your once silk sheets now felt like sandpaper across your skin, the metal of your binds, and the burn of your rope. Everything and nothing all at once.

The minutes seemed to draw themselves out into hours as he continued his assault. He, or Shouta, you supposed, wasn't lasting very long. It didn't suit him; he seemed like a man of stamina. Maybe it was because he played out a sick fantasy of his that made him cum in minutes.

Unprotected, he came deep inside you before sliding out, giving your pussy a slap as he made his exit.

“Such a tight little kitty you've got there.”

Fingers at the ready, he stuffed his cum back inside you, toying with your clit all the while. He was quick to make you cum, making you see stars at the intensity of your orgasm.

“Don’t worry; I'll make you cum on my cock next time. I have plenty of games planned for us when I take you home.”

Pulling his fingers out, he pushed them down your throat to clean them before getting up and dressed again. He left you there, tied up and gone without a word.

In reality, he was just getting his car ready for you, but who was he to deny himself the pleasure of seeing your panicked face when he came back?

You were going to make a fine pet for him.

#yandere shouta aizawa #yandere shouta aizawa x reader #yandere aizawa #yandere aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere mha #yandere bnha #tw: noncon #tw stalking #yandere x reader #yandere

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years ago

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Draw your swords, pt. 3

Summary: While his bride is exacting her plans from the very first day in Little Palace, the Darkling finds he has a soft spot for the enemy.

Warnings: sexual references, swearing, angst

Part one // Part two

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The last thing Y/N expected upon waking up was to wake up alone. Spreading out in the bed, she huffed a loose strand of her hair off her face. Narrowing her eyes, she stared up at the canopy with her wicked husband on her mind.

After the way he had acted the night before, she found herself wondering what game he’s playing. They were meant to be married in paper only, yet he seems to have a possessive streak that extends to her as well. A part of her wasn’t sure if he truly had a shred of decency within considering he didn’t take advantage of their marital status, but the other part of her wasn’t easily swayed. That part of her remained defiant as it was forged in a fire the Darkling set. Intentionally or not, his actions have damaged her before they ever even met and she wasn’t very forgiving.

Opening the door, unannounced, strolled in the most beautiful woman Y/N had ever seen. Her long, auburn hair was perfectly styled and framed her face without obscuring an inch of her stunning beauty.

Genya, she realized. Even on the other side of the fold, Y/N knew of the empresses’ tailor.

Large, amber eyes fix on Y/N who slowly sat up. She stared at Genya without shame, admiring her appearance.

“Well, from what the general told me, I expected I’d have more work on my hands.” Genya huffs, her hands on her hips as her lips form a thin line.

“I have nothing wrong with me”, Y/N defends, graciously getting out of the bed that was far too comfy considering who she shared it with. “And where is the general?” Raising her eyebrow, Y/N folded her arms. No matter where he disappeared to, she couldn’t let him wander too far in case he tries to break their agreement and attend a meeting alone.

Humming, Genya didn’t try to hide her curiosity as she looked Y/N up and down. “Are you sure you don’t need my services?”

Glancing at the door, Y/N saw the servants waiting in front for a command. “Leave us”, Y/N waves them off, swiftly closing the door behind them. Her eyes settle on a seemingly startled Genya who cocks her head to the side.

“Interesting. So you do need me?”

Inhaling deeply, Y/N nods. Coming closer, her eyes remain on Genya’s whose gaze drifts at first. Once Y/N stopped before her, their eyes met.

“I need you, but not as a tailor.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Genya steps back. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N licked her lips. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you hate the emperor and you’d do anything to make sure he never lays a hand on you?”

Genya’s nostrils flare, her lips drawing back between her pearly whites. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m loyal to my emperor.”

“I know”, Y/N reaches for her hand, “I’m saying if your loyalties shifted, I’d make sure that fat fuck died in agonizing pain.”

Yanking her hand out of Y/N’s reach, Genya stepped back with wide eyes.

Gnawing on the inside of her bottom lip, Y/N wished she was more tactful. Hearing of Genya and her fate, she assumed she’d gladly ally with her in this fight. Not only does she need Genya on her side to fight against Kirigan, but the emperor as well. Genya would have been an ideal ally if only she was willing to hear her out. But she should have waited, befriended the Grisha. She should have been more tactful.

“Does the general know of the treasonous plans you speak of?”

Chuckling in disbelief, Y/N shakes her head, “Do you truly believe I’d be breathing if he did?”

Pursing her lips, Genya turned her back on Y/N, contemplating all the possibilities that could stem from her decision.

“It’s a lot, I know, but I am here with a few secrets of my own.” Y/N takes a step closer, her hand clasping Genya’s shoulder as a show of support. “I realize you barely know me, but we can change that now.”

“How?” Genya whispers, more to herself than Y/N who released a shaky sigh.

“By revealing a secret that would be lethal for me if you shared it with anyone.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Genya’s eyes narrowed at Y/N who felt genuine, more than anyone had been since the day she arrived in the Palace. Despite the initial mistrust, Genya nods.

The guards stationed outside of Y/N’s room only heard a loud gasp behind closed doors, unaware that very gasp was a start of a friendship that would define Ravka’s future.

Meanwhile, the Darkling had spent the morning out in the fields. Riding his favorite horse usually served as a way to distract his mind from ongoing worries, but it had no such effect today. No amount of speed or distance could possibly erase the feeling of Y/N’s hand on his body, much less of her body pressing against him.

He behaved as a pious man, an honorable gentleman with self-restrain of a saint. If he could, he’d have taken her without regrets, but he never crossed that line and doing so with a woman meant to be his wife would set him on a path of no return – of true evil.

The Darkling may have done some heinous things, but they were never without reason. If he had done anything against her wishes, he’d be beyond redemption and he couldn’t help but grit his teeth every time he imagined himself losing his mind around her long enough for her to turn him into the villain she sees him as.

Another thing he’s decided to do is break the rule he knew she expected him to uphold – sleeping in separate chambers was the worst thing for them now. He had to be in her bed every night, regardless if she wanted to let him between her legs or not. He wouldn’t force her, that much would be true, but he wouldn’t sleep in his own room anymore. The room they were given last night would be the one he goes to, stumbles to, crawls to, in order to fall asleep beside her. And though it’s a risk as he could easily find himself with his throat cut, he refused to back down.

Dismounting, he headed to the map room where his subordinates waited for further instructions regarding the war.

“Shall we start?” The Darkling tossed his riding gloves on the desk as he looked at his people. A new face caught his attention, making him do a double take until his dark skies narrowed at her.

“Now that you’ve arrived”, Y/N stands, smiling sweetly. “I believe we can present to you what we’ve discussed while you were off on a joy ride.”

There’s nothing sweet about her, Darkling realizes. Even her smile is coated in honey but laced with poison.

He licked his lips, “Well, if you want my opinion-“

“I don’t”, she stood her ground, “I have my own.”

Chuckling darkly, he leans forth on the table. His nostrils are flared, his hands gripping the edges until his knuckles turn white. “And what exactly is that?”

“We agreed on having the First army general having a vote in the decision making process as you all do, and since I’m his proxy, I’ve decided you will no longer use humans as canon meat.”

Gliding the tip of his tongue over the inner side of his teeth, he stared at Y/N as if she were made of glass he had every intention on shattering. That would be a mistake – glass is only brittle until it breaks, the shards can cause more damage.

“We will train Grisha to protect humans and humans will use their weapons to protect the Grisha in a more effective manner with the emperor’s gold.”

“Gold?” Kirigan says through gritted teeth as she approaches him, her hands behind her back and he has no doubts she’s stashed a weapon in them and the blue kefta she wore. He’d tell her to take it off and never wear one since she’s but a human, yet as his wife, she was entitled to a kefta. Besides, she looked like a dream in one.

“The emperor agreed to fund the First army’s armory during breakfast”, she smirks, lifting her head up to maintain eye contact.

“Get out”, he grumbles.

Raising her eyebrow, she giggles, “Are you that incapable of admitting I may have opinions and capabilities with potential to do better than the ones you brought before the emperor?” Hardening her gaze, she cups his cheek so tenderly he felt a shiver run down his back. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“GET OUT!” He turns to the others, watching them scramble to leave before he unleashes the darkness everyone feared. Once the last one left, the door slamming behind them, Kirigan locked his eyes on hers.

“Don’t ever try to get inside my head”, he snarled, slamming her against the door. As his heartbeat echoed in his ears, they stayed there with his grip crushing her wrists, keeping them pinned to the wall.

She didn’t breathe, trying to guess his next move. There was a risk she’d push him over the edge and she quite liked herself in one piece, so she waited – waited for him to move first despite the aching pain in her wrists. Releasing a shuddered breath, her chest deflates.

Finally, his eyes soften as he realizes he might have scared her and while he’d usually triumph, he found no satisfaction in being rough with her. He imagined himself releasing her from his grip, cupping her cheeks and asking for forgiveness, but the way she refused to blink made him unsteady. Yet he whispered still, “It’s too dark for you.”

Squinting, Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line. She easily breaks out of his grasp, shoving him against the wall with her forearm on his chest. Trailing her hand lazily towards his neck, she tightens her grip, lightly choking him. Pulling him down, she stands on her tiptoes as well. Leaning in, her lips brush against his ear; whispering, "Darling, you may wield darkness but you don't know the meaning of dark."

Stepping away, she raised her chin defiantly and he wished he could grasp it and pull her lips to his until her jaw relented and her mouth opened for his. And that’s when he realized – why would he hold back?

Her eyes drifted up to his and she knew his resolve was gone. His lips captured hers in a hard kiss, driving them apart with the force of it. There was something gentle about it, regardless of the brute strength he used to push her into the door. She felt the door rattle against her back as he shifted, pressing her into it, taking her face between his hands.

When he kissed her, she felt as if she were losing his mind. She couldn’t comprehend why her hand wasn’t holding her dagger at his neck, or why she allowed herself to moan into the kiss as if he had brought her pleasure.

Every thought she once had evaporated as the darkness of lust drew her in, bending all her rules, stealing the last trembling bit of restraint. She tries to pull away, to stand firm and turn away his affection if she could call it that.

“No”, he whispers, bringing her lips back to his.

And when he kissed her again, she wasn’t sure she wanted her sanity back. She slid her hands under his kefta, wrapping arms around him to press him closer. The low groan at the back of his throat, a small, pleading noise set every inch of her skin on fire.

Opening her eyes, they widen as she notes his are closed as he lost himself in their passionate exchange. A single intelligent thought formed inside her mind, sparking others to appear as well. Playing with fire is her favorite hobby, but this wasn’t a game – not when she was losing.

Pushing against him with all her might, Y/N gasped for breath as he stumbled back. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she narrowed her eyes at him. Lifting her chin, Y/N met his gaze decidedly. After all, she couldn’t avoid her marital duty if she allowed him to kiss her like that. He may not be an old, unattractive, undeveloped man she had imagined in her mind, but Y/N still wasn’t quite keen on giving herself to him. She had kept her maidenhood all those years only to lose it to a man who shall never be more to her than a husband in name only. She’d never love him…she promised herself that. She never broke a promise before and he would not be the one who changes that.

“Don’t touch me”, she spoke through clenched teeth.

He looked at her in surprise. There was hatred in her enchantingly cold eyes, her cheeks flushed red. If possible, her anger made her even more beautiful. Never had he felt such a raging desire.

His hand went around her neck, his thumb digging into the soft flesh. “You are my wife,” he said in a low voice. “You are mine!”

“I believe we have already covered that. I’m not yours and I never will be.” Y/N told him with such spite, such determination that he let her go immediately.

“You’re untouched, aren’t you?” Darkling’s voice softened, his eyes holding more understanding than she liked. Had he acted unreasonably and taken her against her will the night before or now, she’d at least be right about his horrid heart and vile mind…but he didn’t. Instead of being a savage she imaged him to be, he offered her gentle understanding.

“I’m sorry I was rough. I’ll try and be gentler. If you don’t want to go through with this, I won’t force you.” Running a hand across his face, he leaned back on the table. “I want you…really fucking bad, but I won’t take you against your will.” The Darkling sighed as she stared at him with her doe eyes, seeing confusion pass her features.

“Good to know where you draw your line. Murder – good, rape – bad.”

Rolling his eyes, he squinted as he looked at her again, “We can’t sacrifice Grisha for your men.”

Knitting her eyebrows, Y/N could hardly believe he just forgot the kiss they shared. In seconds, he crossed his arms and the lustful look was gone. The man before her was a general once more, and though he tried to hide it, he was still a man who had a hard-on despite the subject change. She wished she could ignore the evidence his blood is still boiling for a touch, more so because he was fucking right – he wasn’t small at all.

“If you keep wasting human lives, we will stop defending yours entirely.”

Raising an eyebrow, his face hardened, “We’ll kill you.”

Scoffing, she raises her eyebrow to mimic him. “It’s you or Volcra or the Druskelle and Fjerdans or Shu. We end up dying either way.” Stepping closer, she folded her hands behind her back. “We can work together and lessen our losses or you can do it your way and have a massacre instead.”

In less than a minute, her eyes turned from ice to flame and he found himself captivated by the change.

“I’ll agree on one condition.”

His gaze roamed over her as if he is unable to fully comprehend her beauty. Only when he looked back at her eyes did he see she was troubled. Was that expression fear? The possibility struck him as so humorous he nearly laughed out loud.

“State your terms”, she snapped, refusing to concede when she’s close enough to do something she’s wanted for years – to protect the soldiers used as a shield for those who are perfectly capable of protecting themselves.

“I plan on getting to know you better”, he leaned in closer. He raised his hand, cupping her cheek just as he imagined – tenderly, enough to show dominance but not quite capable of harming her. “If you let me.”

Heart fluttering inside her chest had made her doubt herself. She stared at him, stubborn and unrelenting. “I’m still not sleeping with you.”

Chuckling, Kirigan drops his hand, noticing her relax as he steps back. With a tightness in his chest, he looked back at his wife, so small, so alone and still so fierce. He would never admit it, but he had already a sliver of love for her and knowing she did not had hurt him.

His smile falls and he nods. Clearing his throat, “How about we go for a ride in a few days?” He took her hand in his and gave her a gentle squeeze, looking up at her weary eyes.

“Does that mean I have the bed all to myself?” Raising her eyebrows expectantly, she squeezed his hands right back, as bold as ever. Genya seemed to trust him, yet Y/N couldn’t understand why. He’s too charming to be trustworthy.

Using his grip on her hand as an advantage, he tugged her closer to him and she found herself between his legs as he remained, leaning against the table behind him. His eyes flicker to her lips, “Better find more pillows, my wife. We wouldn’t want you to be the big spoon again, would we?”

With that, he turned them so swiftly, she had barely blinked as he pulled her up on the table and she gasped in surprise. Heart beating fast, she nearly gripped his kefta and claimed his lips, but he leaned in on his own accord and she had no need for brutish behavior.

The tip of his nose brushes hers and just as she begins to lean in, he takes a step back. Winking, he takes another step back.

“If you want a taste, you’ll have to ask.”

Watching his retreating figure in shock, she remained perched on the table with her mouth open and her eyes wide.

Covering her mouth, Y/N shakes her head. Her mind was right, the heart cannot be trusted.

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless @azure23x

PART 4

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #shadow and bone #the darkling fanfiction

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erismerald · 4 years ago

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𝑰 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 (Jacob Frye x reader) 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 2

Hello creed, I bring you here the second chapter of my Jacob Frye fanfic, I hope you like it and maybe I would like to remind you that my requests are always open in case someone is interested!

Without further ado, stay safe, and happy reading!

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 1

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Fluff and a bit of teasing ;)

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 3953

𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧 𝟏𝟖𝟔𝟖

Your head hurt a little, and your vision was blurred, you felt moving but you were still, you looked around, the environment you were in was different from the wet and scary street, with a little more effort, you tried to look for details that would help you identify where you were, you were on a train. ... but how? the room you were in was well decorated, you knew that style well, your nanny was doing her best to decorate every part of the house with the rustic and elegant theme of the Victorian era, so none of that had been a dream?

You sat up in bed, feeling your body weakened, you took a deep breath and gained strength to pull yourself together, the clothes you were wearing were different, it was a nightgown, made of cotton, all black with gold details on the sleeves, after all you had really traveled in time. ... but how was that possible, one moment you were with your friends and the next you were alone in the world, flash all the memories of last night had burst into your mind, the dark street, the rain... the man who tried to abuse you, and your savior, who was he? was it him that brought you here? doubts hovered empty in your consciousness, you looked at your wrists small black marks tinged your skin, you felt pain when the palm of your fingers ventured to touch them, without realizing it you let out a 'auch', you couldn't control the fear you felt, you were alone. You wanted your grandmother by your side to calm you down, you grabbed your knees and pulled them up to your chest, and laid your head down lightly letting the tears run down your face, feeling them fall on your hands, you felt small, you felt abandoned.

Suddenly the bedroom door opened revealing a woman, still quite young she must have been in her early twenties, she smiled sweetly at you, no matter how hard you tried to hide under the blanket, that smile warmed your heart and made you smile back.

"I see you're awake at last" She approached with a tray of food that she set down on top of the couch where you were lying "My name is-" she was interrupted by a man, you recognized him, he had been the one to save you, your heart pounded hard when your gaze met.

"Ahhh finally, I'll be able to sleep in my room again" he laughed sitting down in the armchair opposite you, you bowed your head in shame

"Jacob! The girl just woke up, and you're already being a real jerk, I can't believe you're my brother sometimes" The girl said turning her attention back to you " Dear ignore him, he's just a jerk, how do you feel?"

"I... I'm confused just... I feel sick and hot" your voice came out shaky, you were nervous.

"It's because of the fever the doctor said you would feel like this for a few days, but that you would be fine, what's your name?" The girl asked meekly, sitting down in front of you, your gaze shifted a little to the man sitting in front of you, he seemed asleep.

"M-my name is Y/n L/n" again your voice betrayed you, as you said your name the girl looked shocked but interested in you.

"Your family is a great help to our brotherhood, it is an honor to have you here with us!" The girl said with a gentle smile kissing her lips, a feeling of hope embraced your body, would there still be a way back home? But in a flash, you recalled what she had said.

"M-my family? how do you know them?" you asked pulling your body forward-facing the two people sitting in front of you.

"The L/N family has always been a great help in training young assassins" Assassins? What? you didn't want to believe what you heard, all the memories were joining the truth about your family, the story your grandmother told you and you preferred not to believe was really true? It wasn't possible, but why now? why now that you had decided to find out who you were? Why now that you have finally traveled to London? And who were the people in front of you? The girl stood up and stretched her hand towards you "My name is Evie Frye, and that idiot over there is my twin brother Jacob Frye" the words that came out of her lips were like glass tearing your mind, you felt dizzy as if you couldn't breathe right, was all that true? Wasn't it possible? Was it? But how did you end up in their time? Was your grandmother right, weren't they just children's stories?

"How is it possible?" you whispered, both brothers looked at you curiously, " No, it can't be real, I must be dreaming... "Your gaze was fixed on your hands resting on the thin cloth that covered your body, crystal clear tears came out of your eyes, Evie seeing your reaction to finding out who they were hugged your body and pulled you in, you hid your face to her shoulder, letting the sadness leave your heart.

A few minutes passed, but it seemed like hours, your body was still weak from crying, in 18 years of life you had never cried so much, you took a deep breath, hugging Evie's body tightly.

"I know very well who you are" you finally said, Evie knelt down beside the sofa looking puzzled at you.

"How do you know us, love?" Jacob said getting up from the armchair and staring at you, he was much taller than you, and you felt a little embarrassed to feel his gaze fixed on yours, in one small movement you looked away from Evie, you took a deep breath and gathered your courage to expose your whole story.

"My name is Y/n L/n but I am not from here... in fact until a few minutes ago I believed that you two were part of the stories my grandmother used to tell me when I was younger... "I know well who my family is, I just didn't know their true position in this brotherhood, my grandmother used to tell me stories of the Frye twins and the adventures of the assassins to free London from the grasp of the Templars, but I always believed that you were a lie, I am not from here, nor from this time and I honestly don't know how I got here," you said between sobs, raising one of your hands to your face wiping the tears that were falling "I don't even know why I came here, for one second I was in 2020 and the next I traveled back in time to here. .. BUT I DON'T KNOW WHY! I WAS JUST TRYING TO FIND OUT WHO I WAS, WHY DID I HAVE TO VISIT LONDON AND IGNORE ALL THE WARNINGS MY GRANDMOTHER GAVE ME? WHY DID SHE LET ME COME? DID SHE KNOW THIS WAS GOING TO HAPPEN?" Your crying turned into anger, you felt like your body was going to collapse, you felt dizzy, everything was becoming blurry but something broke your fall and held you tight, with the tremendous effort you looked up to see what had happened, the next thing you knew you were in Jacob's arms, he protected you from falling or passing out, you wanted to talk but all you could say was 'ahh' or 'I...'.

"Okay love I know it's a lot to process but you're not alone here, you have us now, we'll take care of you," Jacob said stroking your hair and holding you close to his body, the beating of his heart helped you calm down. "Now what do you mean 2020? We can tell you're not from here but did this happen? Evie?" Jacob called his sister's name they both looked at each other, and after a few seconds, Evie had an idea.

"Let's wait for you to recover so you can tell us everything straight so we can understand what's going on, but..." Evie stopped sighing "Until you can get back home we have to make you unnoticed, we have to make you mix with the people of our time, only then you will be safe, and since your family is a big influence here in London we can visit them and try to ask for help, what do you think?" Evie smiled at you and you smiled back, you felt your eyes grow tired, and without much effort, you fell asleep.

Your eyes opened slowly, it was hard to sleep with the storm of thoughts that rambled through your mind, occupying every neuron, it was still night, you looked at the clock on the desk, it was 4 am, still so early and you were already so awake, you couldn't deny that you felt anxious and nervous with what was happening, Your body moved from side to side on the sofa where you slept, the rain hit the glass loudly, the sound of the wheels on the rails, the wind whistled lulling your body, but you couldn't sleep anymore, the stress, the fear, the frustration of not being home, it was agonizing, you stared at the ceiling, thinking, those memories were still very fresh in your mind, it would take a while to accept.

With a little effort you pushed your body up, sitting down and crossing your legs, the window above your head was splashed with raindrops that slid with speed, the landscape was beautiful, the city lights in the background made your heart beat faster, Even in another epoch London was still London, still a beautiful, attractive city, without you realizing it, a weak smile broke out on your lips, it was ironic that you wanted to visit a place so much and when you did it was as if it vanished through your fingers.

You observed the room and noticed your bag lying on the side of the sofa, with one hand you pulled yourself towards you and took out your drawing notebook, you appreciated the picture sticked on the leather cover, it was your grandfather who had made it, he made a dozen of them just for you, every time the pages of one finished, another one came on the scene, with canvas for more adventures and emotions, since you were very young that writing and drawing were a way to represent your emotions and represent the world you lived in.

With a few gestures you let your hand flow across the white page, drawing and sketching empty emotions but full of comfort, looking on the bright side, when you return you will always have something to show your grandmother, a memory, the sound of the pencil scratching the sheet of paper, soothed your heart so full of bitterness, 'so this is what it's like to discover who I am? Is this what you wanted me to see grandma?' you thought to yourself, is this the destiny that was destined for you?

You sighed and let your hand fall on your thigh, you looked forward, and saw Jacob's coat resting on the back of the armchair in front of you, a wave of warmth and embarrassment invaded your chest, you felt strange every time you thought about him, he was mysterious but gentle and protective, when you felt his body wrap around yours it seemed that they had connected to each other, and all the negative energies and scary thoughts disappeared, your heartbeat as he did, your breath calmed down as you felt his fingers tangle in your hair to comfort you, without a second thought, you began to draw his face on that once white page, you remembered every detail of his face, the two scars, his unshaven beard, his hazel eyes, his lips. ... he was an attractive man, you would never in your life think of meeting him, but now that you know him, he was something you didn't want to forget, you put the notebook against your chest and smiled like a little child, feeling butterflies playing with your belly.

But something interrupted the moment, that moment when you were no longer present on earth, you were lost, hidden in a world of thoughts:

" Rough night?" A voice coming from behind you, scared every inch of your body, you put your hand on your chest letting the notebook fall to the floor, you recognized the owner behind that hoarse and funny voice, Jacob laughed a little "I didn't want to scare you, love, I just came to check if you were okay and since I saw you were awake I decided to come in" Jacob said sitting next to you, his gaze crossed with yours. "How are you feeling?"

"I-im okay, and don't worry you didn't scare me, I was just lost in my thoughts and didn't even see you coming...." you replied shakily, like a leaf in the middle of a storm, his smile was directed at you, you could feel your face getting warm, it was obvious you were nervous, but why?

Jacob sat in the armchair in front of you, he looked tired, but more importantly, he was completely flushed, your gaze was fixed on his body, his hair was dripping, his breathing was racing, your heart was beating unregulated as if you were in a sprint, your breathing became heavy for a few moments.

"Do you like what you see love?" Jacob teased, bending his body forward, you jumped a little when hearing his voice, and quickly looked the other way, the rain was still beating strongly on the window, but the train had stopped, maybe because of the bad weather? "I was just messing with you, I just came from a mission, and well... since you are sleeping in my room and my stuff is here, I came straight to you." He laughed a little, his laugh was wonderful.

Even not looking directly at him you could feel his smile, unbelievably you were feeling calm again, your breathing was quiet, but you felt Jacob's gaze on your body, something captivated him about you, but he still couldn't know what it was, maybe because you were exotic? Because you were new to him, his gaze was fixed on your neck, the necklace that belonged to him was now adorning your neck.

"I wanted to thank you, Mister Frye, thank you for saving me from that... you know, I wanted to thank you earlier but, I've been busy with my mind-" Suddenly you felt his fingers slip up your neck to your jawline turning your face to face his, his curious gaze was focused on the necklace, he smiled.

"How funny I have a necklace just like that hanging around my neck, matching aren't we" Again his laughter filled the room, you couldn't contain yourself, and a small giggle broke out from your lips "Oh you do laugh too, you have a very adorable laugh" Your face flared, a pink color graced your cheeks as you heard his voice, he was so close. ... his scent intoxicated you, as if you were drunk on his scent alone, you felt your eyes getting heavier, but something woke you up, a fallen drop of Jacob's hair fell on your cheek.

"Shouldn't you take off your wet clothes, or at least dry yourself? Mister Frye you might catch a cold" the words escaped from your lips, the concern was explicit on your face, Jacob found it adorable, but he laughed a little, confused you looked at him pouting, you were just trying to help and he still laughed.

"Darling, my clothes are all here and if you haven't noticed, you're here, it would be inappropriate to undress in front of such a delicate lady, besides I'm used to it, after missions I usually go to some pub to celebrate with my rooks but Evie asked me to keep an eye on you, and I didn't want to leave you alone either," Jacob said sitting back in the chair.

You blushed but nodded, he was right, it wouldn't be appropriate, but something wandered in your mind, he didn't want to leave you alone? Jacob's watchful eyes noticed your notebook lying on the floor, he reached out to pick it up, you felt a wave of embarrassment and shame hit you like a stone, no, a bunch of them.

His fingers slid across the pages looking at the drawings, especially the one you had done the day you arrived in London, he looked like a child watching a cartoon on TV, he was mesmerized.

"Ahm Mister Frye, may I ask you something?" you asked as he looked at your notebook, he nodded without saying a word. "What was this mission you went on?" his gaze was still focused on the drawings, but he took a deep breath and answered finally.

"Y/n you know what an Assassin does right?" He asked, you nodded, waiting for his answer to continue "I was assigned to kill templars and free London from the disgusting and profiteering clutches of theme, today I helped rescue some of my rooks who were taken hostage in the middle of one of their rounds when they warned me,

I ran immediately to save them, they are like a family

family, and I as their leader have to help and protect them.

His words were like melodies, he sounded just like the way your vein described, ruthless, brave, gentle and playful, fearless, you smiled, was it possible for a man like that to be true? Was it even possible that your childhood hero was right there in front of you watching your drawings? Was it really true that after many years of hearing about him, you were having a conversation with him? You felt so confident that for a few minutes you forgot that you were stuck in 1800.

"You are really brave Jacob..." Finally, you said, slowly removing the necklace from your neck and holding it between your fingers, circling it from side to side. "You know I spent years adoring you... wanting to be like you and Evie, my grandmother spent years telling me about your adventures, I remember when I was younger and climbing up on the roof, jumping from window to window pretending to be you, pretending to be with you, and well. ... years later here I am in front of you, talking to my idol, and I still don't know how to react to this situation" You laughed a little sarcastically. You were nervous but you knew you could trust him, when you looked ahead again his gaze went through every detail of the drawing you had made of him, he seemed excited.

"I thank you Y/n, for idolizing me when you were younger, it must come as a shock to you, finally meeting me hum?" He said with a tinny smirk on his lips.

"W-well it is but I think you can even exceed my expectations Mister Frye" You laughed nervously, you tried to avoid looking at him, you were afraid you wouldn't know how to react.

"How do you feel about your family belonging to the brotherhood?" He questioned you as he put your notebook down on the desk next to him, you sighed, honestly you didn't even know what to say, or what to think about it, of course, you knew for many years that your family came from a long line of assassins but, you preferred to believe that it was a lie or just another story invented by your grandmother to entertain your creative mind during the most starry nights, you never imagined that they were real, and you still thought that taking someone's life for the sake of a brotherhood or to protect others was wrong, and you didn't want to be associated with that, so you forgot that story, and went on with your life, but now that you knew that they were real, you were a little afraid to confront them.

"I... honestly I don't know how to answer you, when I was younger, I heard the stories told by my grandmother over and over again, but I never thought that they were real, and even when she talked about the brotherhood I... preferred to ignore it, in my view, it isn't right to kill someone, I thought that the assassins were cruel monsters who had no feelings, so I never really wanted to know that part of the story, but I confess that I am afraid to confront them tomorrow..." Jacob seemed to understand what you were feeling his eyes were downcast, you could hear his heavy breathing, you felt a little worried, would you said something wrong, but something surprised you when his gaze met yours you could see a little fear and sadness in his gaze.

"Do you think I'm a monster?" Jacob asked getting up and walking towards you again, you felt your body harden like a stone, your heart was beating uncontrollably, you couldn't think of anything to answer him, he knelt in front of you, still with his gaze fixed on yours, you couldn't even think, he was very close to you, his hand wrapped around yours and took the necklace you were holding between your fingers "Your grandmother gave you this didn't she? and by some fluke of life you came right to me... tell me Y/n even after I saved you, do you think I'm a monster?" His voice was husky, his touch made you sensitive, his smell made you dizzy, you are hypnotized.

"N-no, I don't think you're a monster, I... just didn't know much about.... I... and by some fluke of life you came right to me... tell me Y/n even after I saved you, do you think I'm a monster?" His voice was husky, his touch made you sensitive, his smell made you dizzy, you are hypnotized.

"N-no, I don't think you're a monster, I... just didn't know much about.... I..." Jacob's hand moved closer to your neck his fingers slid across your skin easily, you sighed deeply as you felt his skin in contact with yours, Jacob smiled, it was funny to see your submissive reaction to him, with a small gesture, he placed the necklace around your neck, caressing the back of it, but before he left, his breath-focused on your ear and with a whisper, he made your world crumble.

"Don't take this necklace off, so I'll always know why you're here"

He stood up and grabbed his coat, you were completely paralyzed, you were blushing, your breathing was heavy and panting, your gaze seemed glazed on him, he smiled and walked towards the door, but before disappearing into the darkness his voice echoed once again in the room "you better get some more rest Love tomorrow we have a long day, it was nice talking to you miss L/n". And with that he left you there alone, your heart pounding, panting, and nervous, your only thought was his voice softly caressing your ear.

You let your body fall back, staring at the window, and the rain sliding on it, you didn't realize that the train was moving again, you just let your mind wander, what would have happened if he stayed here?

Feelings and thoughts left you awake for the rest of the night, before you knew it the birds were already singing, the first rays of sunlight illuminated your smiling face.

#jacob frye x reader #evie frye x reader #evie frye #assassin's apprentice #assassin's creed brotherhood #assassin's creed syndicate #uncharted #sam drake #samuel drake x reader #assassin's creed #jacob frye #eivor #life is strange #until dawn #video games #detroit connor #detroit become human

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years ago

Note

God please can I get anything with Rook hunting down his escaped darling? This man has a thing for chasing you down you cannot convince mo otherwise

I’ve been meaning to write a special headcanon/scenario post about Pomefiore to celebrate the release of Chapter Five, but,,, this’ll have to do, for now. I’m doing a disservice to the best dorm, but hopefully, some Rook content will delay by inevitable shame.

Title: The Hunt.

TW: Violence, Kidnapping, Strong Predator/Prey Themes, Implied Stalking, and Mentions of Death.

You really used to think Rook was just on the extravagant side.

That’s how it’d seemed when he first introduced himself, dropping to one knee and pressing his hand to his chest, declaring something loud enough and incoherent enough to draw the eye of every onlooker within earshot. Some of his actions were questionable, his gaze often leaning towards the unnerving side, but you’d never thought he was villainous, he hadn’t seemed to want to do harm. He meant mischief, as far as you could tell. He didn’t try to hide the way he watched the more particular members of the student body, but he never took anything beyond a picture. He never made a secret of his fondness for you, but his affection was a fleeting thing - he’d said as much himself a dozen different times. You figured Rook would move long as soon as something newer and shinier came along. You thought he was just having fun.

You supposed you weren’t wrong. He had been having fun. He was still having fun.

It just wasn’t fun for you, anymore.

“Mon cœur,” Rook called, the familiar term of endearment stretching into something twisted, something perverse as it echoed through the lifeless woods. The forest surrounding the Pomefiore dormitory was always dark, always daze-like, always horrid, but tonight, it felt especially misleading, as if the trees themselves were uprooting and rearranging to guide you in any direction but the one that’d lead you away from your hunter. That’s what he was now, really, your hunter. Rook had a way of making his prey feel like pets, of making you feel like a partner rather than another trophy for him to decapitate and mount on his wall, but all of those blissful lies and domestic fantasies had dissolved into thin air the moment you slipped out of your chains and threw yourself out of that elegant, stained-glass window of his. It’d been a stupid move, in hindsight, you were only doing damage to yourself and giving him a blood-trail to follow, but a lifetime of picking crystalline shards out of your skin would be less agonizing than another minute spent in his captivity. You just wished his footsteps hadn’t fallen in-tempo with yours so quickly.

“You really should come out, (Y/n).” His voice was calm, projected with the all the tranquil serenity of a man who already knew he’d won. It wasn’t close, it wasn’t deafening, but the fact that you could hear him at all was damning. It meant he’d be able to hear you, too, even if you had no plans to announce yourself so blatantly. “I know you love your games, and I do want to play with you, but staying up so late is bad for your skin, no? And you must be so tired, dear. If you put an end to this silly show of defiance now, I may even let you sleep in my bed, rather than the cage where you belong.”

You didn’t respond - you wouldn’t have, even if you hadn’t been hiding. Pushing forward, you drove yourself to run faster, to escape both his cage and his bed. There was a clearing in your path, a spot where the leaf-canopy broke apart and the ground grew barren, harsh moonlight seeping in like an unwanted thought, but you skirted around it, following its borders until you found the spot where the foliage was at its thickest. You didn’t think as you forced yourself into the narrow space between branches and trunks and vines with so many thorns, you had to wonder if you’d die of blood loss before Rook got a chance to wring your neck himself, only pressing a hand over your mouth and doing your best to control your panting. You just had to stay put for a minute. You just had to give him time to move on. Then, you’d be able to circle back and beat on every door in Pomefiore until someone recognized you as the student who’d gone missing weeks ago. Then, you’d be safe.

Rook, on the other hand, had no reason to tuck himself away. He stepped into the large clearing without hesitation, letting out a long, labored sigh as he idly glanced towards his surroundings. He must’ve begun his chase as soon as he noticed you’d gotten out, his intricate wardrobe cut down to little more than a black shirt and an insulated, camouflage jacket, both doing leagues more to block out the biting cold than the simple button-down shirt you’d been given to wear. He hadn’t had time to choose a proper weapon, either. Rook preferred traditional bows, the kind without cogs or cables to alleviate the tension of the draw, but he was carrying a simplistic compound bow tonight, made for efficiency and speed rather than enjoyment. Made for maiming his target, rather than indulging them in their rebellion, an arrow already knocked and ready to be drawn back at the first hint of an opening. “Perhaps I should call you mon ange, instead, considering you’re so eager to fly away.” Another sigh, this one accompanied by a graceful turn on his heel and a smooth survey of the forest. His eyesight was good, but it couldn’t be that good. You could barely see your hand in front of your face, where the shadows were their deepest. “Wouldn’t it be easier to come out on your own? You know how much I hate having to drag you home.”

Liar. That dirty, filthy liar. He’d already dragged you away from Night Raven, he’d already dragged you away from your classmates and your family and your friends, and all because he was under some deluded, pathetic notion that he’d only be able to love you - truly love you - if he nailed you to the ground, first. His gaze wandered, he was the one who couldn’t be trusted to keep his promises. He’d just wanted to ensure you’d still be there, waiting for him with open arms, when he got back from all his many expeditions. He’d imprisoned you, and he’d delighted in it, reveled in the joy that came with a source of companionship he’d be able to bleed dry. He was only unamused now that you’d refused to let him cut you open.

You could feel your cheeks begin to flush in anger, your nails curling into your palms, but that did little to stop Rook from going on. Always going on, never stopping. You hadn’t realized how much you hated the sound of his voice until you’d been forced to listen. “I’ll admit, I’ve been busy, lately. Have I been neglecting you?” He laughed, the sound airy, non-commital. As if it suddenly didn’t matter if you came out, as if he suddenly didn’t care. “This is childish, is it not? I mean, I never thought you would stoop so low just to buy for my attention.”

It was so little, it was nothing, just a shift of your weight in the barest hint of a reaction, but dried leaves and twigs seemed to crack under your feet as if you’d thrown your biggest tantrum yet. You reacted immediately, scrambling to free yourself from your constrictive hiding place, but Rook was so fast, he was so ready. It was all you could do to catch a glimpse of his bow as he took aim, your efforts to escape from his line of fire turning out all-but futile. You pressed yourself against the nearest trunk, but in the end, he was the one who faltered, his arrow barely grazing your bicep, cutting through your sleeve but only leaving a thin, red line in your skin, the shallowest wound he’d ever inflicted. You allowed yourself to smile, you allowed yourself to laugh, but Rook didn’t move to fire again, only slinging his bow over his shoulder, slotting it into place as if he wouldn’t need to use it again. Not on you, anyway.

“You really should come out,” He said, one more time. “These kinds of things tend to get rather ugly when they’re not given the proper treatment.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what he meant, but before you could gather up the confidence to ask, something sharp and frigid pounded through your injured arm, stretching from your fingertips to your shoulders, and out of reflex, you glanced towards the cut. A pale, lilac fluid was smeared across your skin, dripping from the small wound, the color so faint, you hadn’t noticed it before. The same shade of purple that coated his arrowhead, even after it’d buried itself in the ground.

Oh.

That made sense. For Rook, at least.

You hardly tried to resist it, your body buckling under its own weight, crumbling until you were little more than a mass of stained clothes and writhing limbs, every part of you contorted in agony so vivid and bright, the darkness seemed to dissolve, kept at a faithful distance by an unmoving wall of white-hot pain. It was relentless, it was ruthless, and it only got worse as Rook’s calloused hands took hold of your tense form, lifting you off the ground and pulling you against his chest, cradling you as gently and as tortuously as he could. His hum was liked a needle to your ears, the click of his tongue as fatal as a dagger to the back of your neck, but even then, you knew it wouldn’t kill you. No, no, that’d ruin Rook’s fun. That’d be too merciful for him. That’d be too kind.

And to think, you’d almost forgotten the flare your hunter was capable of.

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dimensionwriter · 5 years ago

Text

Stick To Me

Male! Merman/Octoperson x GN! Reader

Warning: Talking of ocean

Word Count: 3028

Part Two

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Blue. Everything around you was this nice calming blue. The waves gently brushed against your boat before pardoning itself around it. The air held a slight salty scent to it that helped create this relaxing atmosphere.

For the last few weeks, you have been traveling around the world to see some of its natural beauty. Your boss sent you on this trip in order for you to write a story about the importance of connecting to untouched beauty of the world. In reality, you just took it as 'You are going on a paid vacation'.

The plan was to find hidden gems on land, but you couldn't help spending a few days in the water. It was something about the soft sounds of the waves and sometimes seeing a sea creature swim by that just enraptured you.

Lifting your hand, you spread the paint against the canvas. You weren't the best at painting, but you felt so inspired to at least attempt to. You were trying to paint how the ocean looked at sunset, but you doubt you could do it justice.

You put the paintbrush in the paint water. As you were painting, something kept catching your eye. A flash of orange kept appearing.

Maybe it was a fish. Maybe not. However, your curiosity was getting the best of you.

The thing was that when you were focused on the painting, the creature would appear. Then as soon as you lifted your head, all you would see was blue waves.

Quickly, you dropped to the ground and scooted away from your seat. The walls should cover you enough so that whatever sea creature it was, wouldn't see you.

Five minutes passed by and you were starting to think what you were doing was stupid. That was until the left side of the boat lightly tipped over. Water splashed against you, slightly soaking you

You looked up to see a mass of orange tentacles coming from over the edge. An octopus? How did an octopus manage to get this high up?

"Stupid humans."

The mass of tentacles dropped on the floor in front of you before sliding towards the area you were at before. Your eyes drifted up from the orange tentacles to the shift into a more human torso. Attached to the torso were a pair of long skinny arms. You couldn't see the face of the creature since you only saw it's backside. However, you could see a bunch of tiny tentacles curled near their shoulder.

"The human is marking the spot." Their voice was a lot deeper and grumblier than anything you've heard on land. The best way you could describe it was the roaring of waves during a storm. "They won't get away with this anymore."

You weren't dumb. You knew what you were looking at wasn't man nor fish. They seem to be a hybrid.

"Um, hi," you croaked out. It was inevitable that the creature would find you. Your feet were barely a foot away from them. You would hate for them to discover you while you looked like you were hiding. It's best to seem friendly.

The tentacles curled around themselves as the poor creatures jumped. They turned around quickly with a hand draw up in defense.

The face was that similar to a human, except there was no nose. Most of his face were large black eyes and the other half was a thin black line connecting to his thin dark orange lips.

"Nice to meet you," you spoke softly. You lifted your hands up to grab the railing and pull yourself up. The creature didn't say anything and only just squinted his eyes at you. "Can I ask why you came abroad?"

He glanced at your painting then back at you. "To protect my people from your kind. I'm tired of you attacking and harming us."

You froze up at the accusations. You haven't done any fishing or hunting in this area at all. You've been eating the food that you stocked up on from the other places.

"I think you may have the wrong person, buddy. I just got here a few days ago and I've been eating the food on my boat. I haven't hurt any merm… octopus people?" Could you consider him to be a merman? You didn't want to judge, but didn't they usually have one tail?

"Your kind constantly comes through with big boat like this and pull out guns and other horrific land weapons. You have the big boat like them," he growled out. The tentacles curled and began to tuck themselves underneath him, making him rise in height. Oh, he was definitely trying to intimidate you. Lucky for him, it was working.

"I'm not a hunter, I swear," lifting your hands, you tried to appear more innocent," I'm just a simple traveler trying to enjoy mother nature's beauty." You really feel like a traveler from the medieval time who just got stopped by a gang or something. Hopefully, you can make it out of this without getting attacked from this octopus man.

"You're marking the land on this weird paper," he stated while grabbing your canvas and presenting it to you as if he caught you red handed. "Do not try to lie to me, human."

You glanced at the painting of the sunset ocean and then back to the cold angry eyes of the man. "The sunset looks pretty on the water. So I painted it."

His eyes narrowed at you and you swore slits appeared on his neck. They flared out for a second before sliding back into the skin. His light orange skin was slowly starting to turn blue.

His tentacles were curling and uncurling, making his form seem a little unstable. He was beginning to shake the longer he stood there. The blue was slowly spreading down his thin face.

"I'll.. see about…that." The slits on his necks were wide open now. His mouth even parted as he attempted to breath. However, it seems the more he inhaled, the worse his condition got.

"Get back into the water," you yelled as you finally connected the dots. You ran over to him, mindful of his twitching limbs, and wrapped an arm around his waist.

Instantly, most of his weight was dropped on you. From how close you were, you could hear him struggling to breath through those slits.

You pulled quickly to the edge. Before you could warn him, you shove him off the boat. You'll have to apologize later for it. Although you would rather him be mad at you for throwing him then for him to suffocate on air.

A loud splash came from below. A few droplets of water got onto your face, but you could care less. The only thing on your mind was 'Is that octoman okay?'

A few agonizing seconds, nothing happened. He didn't pop up on the surface and you didn't see him swimming away. What if you killed him? It was only an 8 feet drop. Did he land in the water wrong?

Light blue. The water where he dropped in was changed to a light blue. Then, it shifted to a dark red colour. The red covered most of the area he went through.

You killed a octoperson. First, you try to convince him that you aren't like the other humans who harm him and then you kill him by throwing you off the boat. The guilt was already starting to overwhelm you.

"Human." You can still hear his grumbly voice. Is this what people mean when they say they feel their sins crawling down their back?

"Human!" Oh, his voice is getting louder. You can't even seek help for this. There's the one part of where people wouldn't believe you. Then there's the second one where humans would terrorize these creatures and probably do some traumatic research if you told anyone about this. That's not what that poor creature would have wanted for his people.

Water sprayed against your face. You didn't even realize that you had put your head on the railing in your moment of panic.

Glancing down, your eyes were met with small orange tentacles curled around a light orange face. Around his cheeks were small little blotches of blue.

"You're okay," you yelled out in excitement. You threw the upper half of your body over to the railing to get a closer look at him. The water around him was still that uneasy red, but his face wasn't showing any visible pain.

He floated up a little more, allowing you to see his upper waist now. Something red and blue were smeared across his chest. How did that happen?

"I'm so sorry for throwing you off like that. Did anything get hurt?" His eyes stayed on the water as he just silently floated next to the boat. It looked like something was bothering him. "Do you need some help?"

"No, I'm fine, lander. It's just.." His skin started turning blue again as his eyes narrowed. The slits on his neck open again before closing. "I apologize."

He lifted his arms out of the water. Red and blue water trickled down the curves of his arms before running down his chest. His fingers were completely red and orange. Held within his fingers was your painting. Well, what was left of it. He must have never let go of it when he went overboard.

"It's okay. I could always make another one of those or ask someone better to make it," you spoke lightly. You felt a smidge of disappointment because you actually worked hard on it. But that's not what matters at the moment. "What matters the most is that you're okay."

For the first time, his eyes stared up at you without any hatred in them. In those black orbs shined nothing but awe. His peach lips parted slightly before closing.

He launched forward and dove under the water. A wiggling mass of bright orange tentacles was engulfed by the water. After a few seconds, the water began to calm.

For a split second, you had hope that maybe he would come back, but you knew it was foolish. That was probably a once in a lifetime interaction. It wasn't going to last forever.

He stated earlier that humans were attacking his kind, so he most likely still holds that fear. It's shameful that your species would do something like that to another beautiful creature. Maybe you guys' interaction could help his heart. You're just one person, but maybe he could see that all of humanity is not like that.

You won't admit to yourself on how long you stayed outside just in case he came back again. Or how much your heart sunk when it finally dawned on you that he truly wasn't coming back.

That night as you closed your eyes, you let your thoughts wander to those fierce black eyes and light orange skin.

Sunlight. Thunder. Rough waves. All of those things you were used to waking up to. However, the feeling of something wet and slimy sliding across your arm, wasn't it. In your sleep hazen mind, you wondered if maybe some water had slipped in.

Then it dawned on you that you're in a boat that's thousands of miles from land. The last thing you would want is water slipping in.

Your eyes shot open and the first thing you noticed was a figure hovering over you. In a panicked daze, your right arm scrambled to your bedside dresser in search of a weapon.

Light flooded the room as you accidently hit the light switch. The figure above you flinched and stumbled off your bed.

The thing about living on a boat is that the space is extremely small. The space between your bed and wall is barely enough for you to squeeze through while standing. So for the poor intruder who just went butt first, he didn't have any space to leave.

Reaching to your left, you grabbed a wooden bat you brought from the last place you went to. Who would have thought that your decoration would be used for it's intentional purpose?

"Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!" Your eyes looked over at the intruder. Orange tentacles and black eyes. His skin was still dripping water making that orangish glow pop.

"You scared me," you whispered, dropping the bat onto the bed. You waddled across the bed to where he was. His tentacles were stuck between trying to grab onto your comforter and failing or pushing against the wall, but not having enough space to.

"I didn't mean for your slumber to stop. I wanted to gift back the fancy land paper while you slumber," he grumbled. That's when you noticed in his arm was what looked to be your canvas.

Instead of the smeared paint from the water, all of it was washed away. However, he found a way to replace it. The blue water was made with blue pearls and some sort of purple plant. The red skies were shimmering scales. The setting sun was made of something you couldn't name, but it held a slight glow to it.

"Woah, did you make this?" His hand reached towards the bed again to pull himself up, but the fabric just slipped through him. He dropped more into the hole.

Okay, slow down. Free him first, then ask questions later. You reached out for his hand, but stopped for a split second. You didn't want to seem like all you do is haul people around.

His eyes flickered from your awaiting hand to your face. A frown slowly came onto his face. "Again."

His hand was extremely cold and wet when it wrapped around yours. His black eyes blinked slowly as if he was shocked for a second. Whatever surprised him wasn't enough to stop him from pulling on your arm to free himself from the hole.

Orange appendages spread around your bed as he slides up onto it with you. Since the poor man was so tall, he had to slouch down to avoid hitting his head on your low ceiling. It didn't bother you much due to the fact you had an inch or two before your head hit it.

"I didn't know humans were so hot," he grumbled. He ball his fist up before letting the tension slowly dissipate. "I am in a position to give you gratitude. May the sea goddess know of your good deeds and send blessings your way."

You weren't a hundred percent sure what he meant. Maybe it was the octo-people way of saying thank you. It was adorable in it's own way.

"Apologies too for swimming into your pod without permission. I have tidals of faith in the water goddess for gifting you, however-" He trailed off as his fingers rub across the edges of the canvas.

"Did you create this?" You couldn't help admiring the painting again. It looked a million times better than anything you could have created. It took you days to make that painting and he made something like this in a few hours.

"No. I am not the best in this craft. I received help from someone within my shoal. I don't comprehend the pleasantry of seeing this. Do you find this pleasing?"

He extended the canvas towards you. A small brush of blue appeared on top of his cheek. He wasn't wheezing like last time, so why was he turning blue?

"Of course it's beautiful. I haven't seen most of these gems in real life. It's so much more vibrant than anything I could get with some paint." You couldn't help the smile that appeared onto your face. The canvas held within your hand seems to be glowing with beauty.

It's almost like he was inflated at your compliment. His shoulder squared up more and the corners of his orange lips quirked up more.

"Good. Good. I may not understand, but I know humans best out of my shoal." A tiny smile slipped onto his face. With his lips parted, it revealed a row of pointed teeth. That's kind of unexpected.

"Trust me when I say I really love this. Thank you-" You mouth stayed open as you realized you never got his name. Is it too late to ask? "I never caught your name."

His lips closed and his black eyes squinted at you. "I am Loire from the middle realm of the East Ocean Kingdom."

It was kind of surprising how seriously he said that. Maybe that's something about this new found world. You wouldn't mind seeing more of it.

"Well, Loire. I truly thank you for the art work. I will cherish it forever." You gave him a grateful smile as you hugged the canvas. It was slightly wet, but that didn't matter. It was the thought that counted and he truly proved that.

Loire didn't move a single inch. His black eyes just unwaveringly stared at you. You were expecting him to maybe leave after that. He gave you this beautiful gift. Maybe there was something else?

"Um, is there something else, Loire?" You asked, looking up at him with a patient smile. A small blue blush coated his cheeks as he called out your name.

"I stand with you until our actions are equal," he whispered. He slowly slithered forward until he was barely an inch away. His face was so close to yours.

Being this close to him, you could see small blue freckles scattered across his skin. His hair, well more like tiny tentacles, was slowly moving to stay out of his face.

"Our actions?" You don't know why you were whispering too, but with him so close, you couldn't help but feel meek.

His hand brushed against your arm as he made his way up. Softly, his hand landed against your cheek. He was so cold to the touch.

"You saved my life. Our actions need to be equal. I have to save your life." He leaned closer to you. His eyes scan you before looking back into your eyes. "Or, I stay with you…for eternity."

"Oh."

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

This is the closest I will get to doing something for Mermay. I've always wanted to do something, but I miss it, but not this time. I actually like Loire as a character. (Still have room in my heart for Kai though).

Now for the question to answer if you've made it this far. What's one thing you would love to do with Loire if you found yourself in this situation?

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soulmate-game · 5 years ago

Text

It had been a trip to Metropolis. Why would Francois-Dupoint go to Gotham, a crime-ridden city crawling with danger and supervillains, vigilantes that toed the line of being bad influences, and a really high chance of lawsuit, when they could go to the city of Superman himself?

Exactly. No good reason.

At least, that was what they all thought. Marinette’s parents even volunteered to chaperone, deciding that they could survive shutting the bakery down for one week. Marinette had helped raise enough money for the trip that the school could compensate them a bit for their time, and their food, hotel, and plane were all paid for. It was supposed to be a great trip. One to remember. And yeah, Marinette would never forget that vacation.

Because she stood with the rest of her class, watching smoke and dust rise off of the pile of rubble that just dropped on top of her parents. The fight was over. Marinette couldn’t even remember who it was. But even with his son by his side, Superman and Superboy couldn’t save everyone. Nobody could. It was asking too much, to expect any one or two heroes to save everyone when an entire city was being attacked and buildings reduced to rubble.

But that wouldn’t soothe the sight of blood creeping out of the rocks.

That wouldn’t soothe the scrapes on Marinette’s knees when she dropped to the ground.

It wouldn’t smother the sound of her agonized cries.

It wouldn’t heal the burns and scrapes and bruises, the chipped fingernails and bleeding fingertips that Marinette gave herself as she tried desperately, sight blurry through tears, to lift each and every piece of still-hot concrete off, shove it to the side, in an attempt to unearth them. They could still be alive, right? Right?

The fact that she was shoveling what amounted to pebbles off of a hill of rubble argued with her. No. No, they weren’t.

It wasn’t until gentle, but unyieldingly strong hands clasped hers, making them still.

“You’re hurting yourself,” that soft, deep voice came from whoever owned the foreign hands, but she didn’t have the mental strength to look up and identify them. Instead, she resorted to kicking rubble away. The voice sighed. “Back up. I can help. Okay? Will you let me help?”

It had been so long, Marinette furrowed her eyebrows. When was the last time someone had actually asked her that question? When was the last time someone ever offered her help? Legitimate help, not just something superficial.

She couldn’t remember. How should she respond?

Marinette’s tongue darted out, wetting her dusty lips. Her deep breath came in with a disconcerting rattle. Somehow, she managed to nod. The foreign hands loosened slightly.

“Okay. Good—“

“I can’t stop,” Marinette finally managed to choke out. “I can’t— I need to—“

“I know,” the voice said again, endlessly patient. Endlessly understanding. “But you’re hurting yourself, so put these on first. Then you can keep digging.”

With his help—yes, him. She vaguely managed to pin down that the voice was male— she was able to slip on thick gloves. They were several sizes too big, probably belonged to one of the firefighters nearby, her mind numbly supplied. She didn’t care. As soon as they were on, she dropped down and began to dig again. The man who had offered to help did just that, moving just a foot or two away and lifting up impossibly large chunks of concrete before placing them down gently in an open area.

With his help, they were uncovered. They were carried away, under blankets, as best as they could be. Marinette saw none of it. Hands covered her eyes, younger than the voice-man’s hands but almost as strong. The only thing she saw was whatever was left once most of them was taken away. Later, she would thank him. But in the moment she was furious.

“I’m not a baby!” She growled at him, her voice lower and scratchier than usual because of all the smoke and dust clogging her throat. “I need to look at them! I need to remember!”

“Not like this,” the new voice said. When he removed his hands, Marinette saw Superboy. He was probably just about her age, but that offered little comfort for her. At least his eyes were understanding, calm, and empathetic. “You don’t need to see them like this. Remember them like they were, not how they ended,” the young hero advised gently, keeping a respectable distance between them now that he was no longer covering her eyes. He wasn’t even floating, staying on solid ground to stay closer to her eye level. “Today will be hard enough on your mind as it is. You don’t need to make this more painful than it is.”

Marinette could only bite her lip at that, her shoulders trembling. Is this what it took to have someone worry about her? To have people realize that she wasn’t superhuman, that she wasn’t infallible or mentally indestructible? Is this what it took, to finally have people try to help and care for her?

Because if it was, she would gladly deal with Lila Rossi and be held to far too high a standard for the rest of her life. She would rather suffer quietly for decades with that much more gentle pain than deal with this agony right now.

She finally let the tears fall, but they were mostly silent. Only hiccups and gasps for air added sound to her sobs. Superboy gently removed her hands from her arms before she could draw blood on herself, and when she lunged into the touch he drew her into the hug she clearly needed. When she pretty much collapsed into his hold, getting snot and tears over the symbol on his chest, he said nothing. He just held her and shared a glance over her shoulder with his father.

—*—*—*—*—*

Lois Lane was an investigative reporter. And when her husband and son asked her to make sure the girl they had sat with for hours after the latest attack on their city would be taken care of, she did not cut corners in her research. What she came up with was less than reassuring.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng. With her parents gone, she didn’t have much in the way of possible guardians. Her paternal grandfather was dead, just a few months earlier of old age. Her paternal grandmother Gina was consumed with wanderlust, not very responsible and not likely to be able to win custody. Even if she did, Lois doubted Marinette would do well in such an unstable, constantly moving lifestyle. Some people would, but Marinette was much like her son from what she gathered from her investigation. She would need stability before anything else. There was her Uncle from her mom’s side of the family, but he only spoke Mandarin so the language barrier was not promising either. The last thing Marinette needed was pressure to learn a new language. If she hyper focused on anything to deal with her grief, it should at least be something she chose on her own. Lastly there was her maternal grandmother, but she had gotten in an accident and passed away almost two years prior.

Luckily, Lois Lane was also a woman of extreme, if mostly secret, political power. She knew several billionaires with political sway, international superheroes, and politicians. Also, not that she would ever tell her husband, but she might have squared away some blackmail and favors that she might cash in with some folks in the legal system if it decided to fight her on her new personal mission.

Nobody got in the way of Lois Lane and lasted long.

But first, she ran her idea past her family. It wouldn’t do any good if they didn’t agree with her, after all. Luckily enough, her offer seemed to be exactly what they had hoped for. Apparently Marinette was the type that was easy to get attached to.

And that was how, after twelve hours of intense phone-call sessions and very, very many in depth discussions, arguments, debates, bargains, and subtle manipulation, Marinette Dupain-Cheng ended up in the temporary custody of the Kent family.

The process itself was extremely complicated and in normal circumstances would have taken anywhere from days to months to complete, but as mentioned before Lois Lane is a secret political superpower in and of herself.

Officially, Marinette’s grandmother Gina assumed custody. Unofficially, her grandmother had plans to enroll her in school abroad in, you guessed it, Metropolis, so that she wouldn’t have to deal with the melancholy memories that Paris would supply her. In doing so, she contacted the Kent’s who were apparently old family friends and asked them to take her granddaughter in for the time being. She was oh so busy traveling the world, after all. And that’s no life for a teenager recovering from grief.

After two weeks to allow Marinette to go back to Paris for the funeral, pack up her things and say goodbye to her friends, she ended up on the Kents’ doorstep with her grandmother by her side. Any attempts to get more information out of the old woman were futile, she refused to say a word on why nobody had mentioned these “family friends” before.

(Lois figured out fairly quickly that Gina Dupain was not somebody to take lightly. The fact that Gina answered the phone thinking that Red Hood was calling was a giant tip off. Lois was pretty sure that Gina knew damn well who her son and husband were, but wasn’t saying anything about it. It really was a shame that she wasn’t exactly prime parenting material at the moment.)

Lois and Clark opened the door together, having been double and triple checking that everything was set up and ready for their new addition. Sure, Marinette wasn’t being adopted or even officially fostered by them, but they would still treat her like a Kent.

“Marinette, hi,” Clark greeted, smiling warmly down at the short girl. “I’m Clark, and this is my wife Lois. If you need absolutely anything, don’t be afraid to ask. Okay?”

The small girl nodded, her hair flopping behind her a bit. Normally she would have it held back in pigtails, but she just didn’t have the energy for that anymore. Maybe she would regain it one day. With that, Gina and Marinette said their goodbyes and she started her life with the Kents.

—*—*—*—*—*

It took a while. Luckily the trip to metropolis had already been in the early summer, so Marinette could be excused for the last few weeks of the school term and relax over summer before being forced back into society. Her grades at Francois-Dupoint were finalized, Marinette doing all the extra work during her two weeks in France for the funeral. She had been told it wasn’t necessary and that she could take her time with it but, as the Kents soon learned, Marinette hated being idle.

But even though Marinette was nowhere near healed, it only took a week for her to warm up to the youngest Kent. Jon was a very much welcome presence in her new life. Just about her age, he was always patient with her and never pried for information or asked about why she occasionally couldn’t bring herself to talk. Words just failed her sometimes, she couldn’t get her throat to work. Something would remind her of her parents, or that day, and she would just feel the dust in her throat again and the blisters on her palms and she just couldn’t say a word.

All three of the Kents helped her through these episodes as best as they could, but Jon always stayed close by so she could tug him into a hug when she was ready. As a very tactile person, she really appreciated that.

And somehow he and Clark, despite being very awkward and physically unsure of themselves on the surface, gave the best hugs.

But, even though Jon and Clark had resigned themselves to being slightly more on-guard about their identities than they usually would be at home, they hadn’t quite anticipated just how hard it would be to keep a secret identity. Not necessarily from Marinette, since the girl spent most of her time out in their backyard or in her room, or occasionally going out for short visits to the city with Jon. No, it was the other way around.

Because of course Marinette couldn’t just give up being Ladybug and the Grand Guardian. Fu wasn’t there to take over for her anymore, so she took it upon herself to watch over Paris twice as vigorously. Mostly through keeping an eye on news channels and texts with her friends, general media stuff. She didn’t want to tire Kaalki out.

And this was how, two months after Marinette started living with the Kents, she walked through a portal into her room and was met with Clark and Jon staring right at her. The elder Kent had his arms crossed, posture oddly confident for the man she had come to know, and one eyebrow raised. Jon looked like his smile was about to rip his face in half, and he was bouncing a bit on his heels. Even then, though, Marinette could pick out the slight worry in his blue eyes. In both of theirs.

She immediately jumped backwards and closed the portal. Trapping herself back in Paris.

And instantly crumpling down to moan in despair on top of a random Parisian rooftop.

She was sitting on the very top of the Eiffel Tower when Superman and Superboy found her, and it didn’t take much for her to guess that they had flown straight over from metropolis. Stupid super-speed flight. She drew her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees as they floated to her side of her patiently. She had long since separated Kaalki, and sat in just her Ladybug costume.

“I knew Lois could contact you guys, but this is a bit too quick even for you don’t you think?” Ladybug drawled monotonously, looking over at both of the heroes dryly. Now that she was mostly of sound mind and not in the middle of a traumatic situation, she was able to make connections she couldn’t before. She was able to actually observe their faces, whereas before she hadn’t really been in the right mind frame to really commit anything about them to memory. But now?

Ohhh, she knew those faces.

Marinette’s eyebrow twitched as she did a double-take, followed closely by a deep breath. Maybe the glasses and, for Jon, baseball cap, would be a good enough disguise for most people. Especially when combined with the frankly impressive body acting they both pulled off on an apparently daily basis, they felt like totally different people in and out of the suits even if they looked the same.

But Marinette was not a normal person. She was a designer, she had a very critical eye, and she had just spent the better part of the last two months living in the same house as these two. And now she realized that they severely toned down the body acting and general “disguise” of their civilian selves when they were at home rather than outside. She had shrugged it off as them simply relaxing at home and, while she was right, it wasn’t until this moment that she put everything together.

“No masks, seriously? Some day, someone with eyes as good as mine is gonna figure you guys out,” she told them blandly, earning shocked blinks followed quickly by soft grins.

“I would normally sit down next to you at this point, but you haven’t exactly left us any space,” Superman— Clark, Marinette reminded herself— joked lightly. Marinette looked down to the small tip of the Eiffel Tower and back up to him, pointedly raising both eyebrows. Jon giggled.

Rolling her eyes and fighting a smile, Ladybug stood up without any apparently care about her footing. Somehow, balance seemed to just come naturally to her. It was so different from the usual Marinette that Clark and Jon had seen literally walk into a wall on multiple occasions that they had to grin. Seems like she fit right in on their acts-clumsy-and-awkward-but-isn’t trope.

(No, they later realized, that was completely Marinette. Ladybug just brought out a different side of her, but the awkwardness was still there. Just better hidden.)

“I was kinda trying to stay somewhere that nobody else could join me on purpose. You know, I was a little busy catastrophizing about you guys wanting to get rid of me now.”

“What?!” Jon asked, horrified. “No way! Even if we were normal, we wouldn’t just toss you away because we found out you’re a hero. That just— do you honestly think we would do that?”

“No,” she admitted softly, crossing her arms and sighing as she looked down over Paris. Over her city. It was a bittersweet view nowadays. “No, but I always freak out over things like that pretty easily. I’ve had people leave me over less. Sometimes it’s hard to convince myself that anyone else will be different.”

“Marinette—“

“Ladybug, actually,” she corrected with a small smile. “Don’t wanna slip up here. You never know who’s listening.”

Clark blinked, needing a moment to let that sink in before forcing himself to continue. “Ladybug, then,” he paused to gently lay a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to meet his gaze. As always it was soft. Patient. Just like his voice had been that fateful day. And, oh, there were the memories. They had both been there, helped her, and they stuck with her. Even though it hadn’t been their fault, even though they could have easily stepped back and let her deal with own problems and who had her custody on her own, they didn’t. She would have blamed them if they did, who was she to expect heroes to care about her like she was their child? That would be horrendously selfish of her. They saved hundreds of people every week.

And yet here they were, treating her like family.

And there was the phantom dust, clogging her throat. Strangling her words. She opened and closed her mouth, but nothing came out. Clark understood, he always understood, and his grip just tightened slightly. It tethered her.

“Ladybug,” he repeated even more softly. “We are not going to toss you out. Not for something like this, not for anything. You’re family now. You might not have the Kent name, you might not be kryptonian, but you’re one of us. Lois understands. Heaven knows she’s put up with both of us long enough, one more hero in the family is probably not that surprising. I just hope that… that you knowing doesn’t—“

“I don’t blame you,” there we go, her voice finally decided to work again. It came out a little hoarse, so she cleared her throat and started again. “I don’t blame you. I never did. It’s stupid, blaming a hero for things that never would have happened if the villain hadn’t attacked in the first place,” she told them, ripping her gaze away from his to trace over Paris again. “Maybe it’s because I understand that not everyone can be saved. I get it. But I never blamed you. I was actually grateful from the very beginning. You helped me dig them out even though you very well could have just carried me to the sidelines and stopped me from digging at all. And you, Jon, you didn’t complain once when I pretty much tackled you in a hug. You both sat with me as the paramedics looked me over. You didn’t leave until you were sure I was back in my hotel and in good hands. You never got impatient with me. That’s more than I could have asked for,” suddenly her mask was wet, and she roughly swiped away the tears that had leaked from her eyes. “You guys being Superman and Superboy isn’t going to make me treat you differently. It’s… actually nice. Not having to hide anymore, I mean.”

Jon grinned and flew over, enveloping her in a tight hug. Ladybug only chuckled and returned it, never once faltering in her balance. “I know exactly what you mean!” He said happily, making Ladybug laugh even more. It quickly devolved into Jon having to compensate for Ladybug’s balance, since she was suddenly leaning all her weight on him as she laughed her little heart out and no longer seemed to care about her balance at all. Not that it mattered much, Jon was more than capable of keeping her safe at close range like this, but it was cute to see. And for Clark? It was really relieving to see the girl he had come to think of as a daughter laughing so genuinely for the first time. Not a chuckle, or a soft huff of amusement, a full blown belly laugh.

It was amazing.

“Come on. I think you have some explaining to do, if you are comfortable with it anyway. Do you want to fly back, or portal back?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. He wouldn’t force Marinette to use her powers, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about them. Marinette straightened up, easily regaining her balance on the pointed tip of the tower beneath her, and slipping on a pair of glasses that she pulled… out of her yo-yo?

Wait, why was a yo-yo on her hip her only weapon? Maybe Clark should look into the Paris situation a bit more in-depth. He was clearly missing a lot, and none of what he was seeing was necessarily filling him with joy and confidence. Maybe Marinette could help soothe his worries later, if she decided to explain her abilities to them.

One transformation and a portal later, and all three of them stepped back into Marinette’s room. And when the portal closed and Marinette let down all her transformations, she took a deep breath and looked around. At both men in the room with her. At her bed and all her belongings. At the way this space has become her own. It felt nice. Warm. Welcoming, familiar.

Home.

It felt like home.

And Marinette’s smile hadn’t been quite so wide since before that infamous Metropolis trip.

Part 2

Yes, Lois kept her last name when she married Clark. I just like alliteration, okay? Besides, my story my rules lol :P

#maribat #mlb x dc #ml x dc #platonic jonette #jon kent and marinette #Marinette joins the Kent family #Marinette Kent

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shinsoukokuvalentine · 4 years ago

Text

What the Water Gave Us

Hi all! Time for a fic! This one was part of a zine and can also be found on Ao3. Warning for graphic depictions of violence.

The screaming. The screaming wakes him, shrill and agonized.

Ryuunosuke’s eyes shoot open, and in one swift motion, he jerks upright in bed and tosses his thin sheet to the side, chest shaking as if he had just experienced a nightmare.

But the nightmare’s claws remain deep in his mind, for he can still hear the screaming. It cries out again, very real and very loud, echoing from the cove. It almost seems to call to him, and shivers travel down Ryuu’s spine every time it splits the night. He’s never heard someone scream like that.

Swiftly reaching into his nearby chest, Ryuu grabs his clothes before even making it completely out of bed. He rushes through his motions, the screams piercing his ears, hurrying him as he throws on his trousers and boots.

The bright moon guides his path. He runs out the door of the mill, plain and modest, leaning a bit in its old age. He runs down the trail, through the thick pine forest, nightingales ceasing their calls in fright as he darts past their trees. He runs, and the screams grow louder, drawing him closer.

He reaches the cove as his heart, pounding in his ears, nearly drowns out those screams. Squinting, he looks down to the small, rocky beach, encircled by high cliffs. With the moon’s aid, he can barely see a figure writhing in the sand.

Ryuu wastes no time in running down the stairs carved into the cliffside. The screams compel him, even in their wild dissonance, begging for him, pleading for him.

Soon Ryuu can only see the figure. He has eyes for nothing else, charging straight towards the hurting man, the glass-shattering cries. He feels ready to give his life for-!

He stops. The illusion breaks as the man’s struggles slow and his screams die down. His voice quiets, dropping the spell, trading his cries for dry rasps and gurgles as he coughs up blood.

And Ryuu’s once-enraptured gaze quickly becomes one of pure malice.

“You,” he snarls.

The siren stares up at him with its mouth hanging open and its body convulsing. Ryuu instantly sees the source of its pain: a harpoon embedded deep in its side, fresh blood still flowing from the wound, turning the sand dark and wet beneath it. The siren’s scaled tail lashes, glittering like hundreds of opals, and its wide eyes stay fixated on Ryuu, deep purple and vibrant gold. It gasps for air. Ryuu scowls.

“You picked the wrong man to come to your rescue,” he snaps. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t wait here and watch you die.”

The siren only stares, twitches. It whimpers, possibly the only noise it can make, a far cry from its seductive song or its calls for aid. Ryuu scoffs.

“You’re pathetic,” he says. “Your song has haunted my dreams for months, and this is how you choose to show your face again?”

Its wide eyes reflect the moon, its choppy hair shines in the silver light. And it stares. It wheezes, it trembles, blood drips out of the corner of its pink lips, and it stares.

With a growl, Ryuu reaches down, scooping the monster into his arms in one motion.

“I swore to kill you, siren,” he snaps. “Not some fool with a harpoon.”

The siren’s eyes close as Ryuu carries it home, harpoon and all, holding it close even as its blood begins to stain his clothes. Its tail drags on the ground as he walks.

When they first met, Atsushi hadn’t eaten a human in moons.

His stomach growled as he stared up at the ship from the ocean floor. The bland taste of the fish in his hands still lingered on his tongue, its blood dissipating into the water around him, its dull scent unappealing even in his hunger.

Flashing lights to his right drew his eye, and floating there, Dazai raised one eyebrow.

“If you hate it that much, why keep eating it?” He asked, the bioluminescent stripes along his tail lighting up in patterns so he could “speak” underwater. Atsushi’s shoulders sagged a small bit, relaxing at the familiar presence, sinking deeper in shame.

“Because I don’t have to promise it anything to catch it,” he flashed back, dim lights flickering among his scales, an aquatic equivalent to mumbling. “Have you ever considered how bad that sounds? Seducing someone just to kill and eat them?”

Dazai, ignoring him, swam closer. His dark hair flowed around his face as he moved past Atsushi, and he looked at the ship above with growing hunger in his eyes, his scales lighting up to say, “I wonder how many humans it holds.”

Atsushi shrugged, continuing to nibble on his fish. It tasted like coral and sand ground into a paste.

“Wanna look with me?”

Dazai’s lights drew Atsushi’s attention once again. He stared at him, at the eager but cunning glint in his smirk, the way his tail wagged slightly. And Atsushi sighed, the gills on his neck ruffling.

“Just one look,” he flashed back. Dazai grinned and darted upwards, with Atsushi following in his wake. He left his half-eaten fish behind.

Their heads only barely broke the surface. The ship’s hull creaked as they looked up from its side, careful to stay in the shadow cast by the sails. Dazai’s eyes immediately resembled angelfish; large, bright, and flashing like diamonds.

“Atsushi,” he whispered, staring straight at the ship. “Those flags.”

Following his gaze, Atsushi saw them too; black flags, marked with a skull and crossbones.

“Pirates,” he breathed. Dazai nodded, but his following smile almost appeared giddy.

“Do you know what this means, Atsushi?”

Atsushi only stared forward. He watched the men on the ship, those he could see, scrambling back and forth like rats. Even with sea salt filling the air, he could still catch their scent when he opened his mouth.

“With the pirates around, less ships have been coming to the island,” Dazai said. Atsushi could see him from the corner of his eye, looking back and forth between him and the ship. “Less ships, less humans, less food.”

Atsushi closed his mouth when it began to water. Despite the fish in his stomach, it still growled when he began to imagine biting into a human again, its blood dripping down his chin, its bones crunching in his jaws.

He clenched his fists as if that could silence those thoughts.

“We wreck this ship,” Dazai murmured, “the humans - the food - will come back.”

Atsushi shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He could still smell them.

“We don’t have to eat humans,” he stammered. His body quaked when he heard Dazai’s low chuckle.

“Oh, but Atsushi,” he said, “you really want to.”

Atsushi’s eyes snapped open, his gaze whipped upwards to the ship again, and he breathed in their scent. His stomach growled again, louder.

“When was the last time you used your song?” Dazai asked. Sympathy oozed from his words as he cooed, “When was the last time you tasted human meat?”

Atsushi said nothing, eyes darting from man to man, as if tearing his gaze away from one would make him less hungry for the next.

“Why fight your instincts?”

Suddenly Atsushi’s eyes stopped. They stared, fixated on one man, unwavering. The man stared back.

He looked over the prow of the ship at the sirens. His mouth hung open, his white shirt billowed in the wind like sails. His gray eyes, like storms over the ocean, bored into Atsushi while his black hair danced around his face. They seemed to stare at each other for moons.

Then the pirate screamed.

“SIRENS!” Rang his warning cry. Atsushi’s song filled the air before the pirate even finished.

The next few minutes happened in a blur, whirling past Atsushi’s head in a song-filled bloodbath. He only remembered Dazai joining his melody, lending his voice, causing men to tumble into the sea as if begging to be devoured. He remembered the ship crashing into the rocks, splinters flying, more men screaming. He remembered many of them dying by his fangs.

He remembered the taste of man. Sun-hardened skin squished between his teeth, hiding large, juicy muscles beneath it, their bones and organs bursting with flavor in his mouth.

But none of them were him.

When his high finally fell, like a wave building to its peak only to break, he stared at the remains of his meals. He couldn’t fathom eating so much, but he felt full for the first time in a long while.

Even so, he was hit with the realization that his prize had escaped; the man he had truly wanted, the man who had raised Atsushi’s song from his throat. He was not among the dead, the loose body parts floating in the water like shark bait. Atsushi couldn’t smell his blood.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Atsushi,” Dazai flashed his scales, beaming as he gnawed on a leftover bone, picking it clean.

But Atsushi only looked up at the surface again, watching the wreckage sink. The sky above had begun to turn dark.

His heart pounded, his stomach ached; his prize was still out there.

Their attacks increased in number. It became Atsushi’s addiction; eating whatever humans he could whenever the craving arose, although they could only satisfy him temporarily. None of them were him, and his cravings all but consumed him.

“Hello? Earth to Atsushi.”

Atsushi jumped a little when Dazai’s hand clapped onto his shoulder. The other siren grinned, rubbing his thumb on the fabric of his stolen tunic.

“We’re not here to think about him tonight, okay?” He said. “You’re relaxing if I have to force you.”

Atsushi nodded, faking a smile for him. His insides felt as if they were tearing themselves apart, collapsing inwards, but he smiled.

“And you like this place?” He asked as his eyes began to dart around. The humans walking around the port city each smelled delicious, and he had to resist opening his mouth, tasting the air for their scent. The days when he resisted eating their meat seemed years ago.

But none of them gave the pair of sirens a second glance, not when they looked completely human, even though Atsushi still wobbled on his new legs. A siren’s shapeshifting abilities could only provide the form, not the skill.

“Trust me,” Dazai said, holding onto his wrist to drag Atsushi’s tottering body alongside him. “Travelers pass through this town all the time. No one will bat an eye at this tavern.”

Atsushi’s lips flattened into a tense line, but he only nodded as Dazai pulled him into the inn. The sign above the door, reading “The Bucking Seahorse,” swung back and forth in the evening breeze.

Warm light filled the tavern, lit by a fire at the left wall and candles hanging from the balcony above. Tables sat scattered around the ground-level floor, with various townspeople and seafarers clustered around them, some laughing and grunting, others keeping quiet.

“You haven’t tasted human ale yet,” chuckled Dazai, pulling Atsushi to a table near the fireplace. “You’re in for a treat tonight, Atsushi.”

Silent, Atsushi could only nod. He let Dazai order, trying to ignore how his stomach growled, how the scent of humans filled his lungs until it nearly stifled him. When his tankard arrived, he chose to drink instead of breathe.

He couldn’t be sure how much he drank. It tasted vile at first, yet the more he downed, the better the ale tasted. It poured into his head and overpowered every feeling except a strange, warm buzz, spreading numbness from his fingers and up his limbs. It felt like drowning and breathing deeply all at once.

And for a moment, he forgot.

Then, like a bell ringing all around his head, he remembered when he smelled that scent once again.

Immediately his senses were flooded. He opened his mouth, breathing it, sure of it over the scent of alcohol and tobacco.

“What’s wrong?”

He heard Dazai’s voice, but he didn’t respond. The noises of the tavern filled his ears, loud and boisterous, growing rowdier and the night grew longer and the tankards emptied. Atsushi only stood and looked towards the door, eyes struggling to focus.

It was him. Atsushi could pick that dark hair out of a crowd, his storm-like eyes from a sea of gray.

He seemed paler than before as he walked forward, into the tavern, his hair pulled back in a small ponytail, his white-tipped bangs still hanging around his face. Eyes traveling, distaste pricked at his expression, his lips in a frown.

He bumped directly into Atsushi. Either because he hadn’t been looking where he was going, or because Atsushi’s body moved without his consent and he stepped in front of him. The man snarled.

“What do you think you’re-?!” He began to snap, immediately grabbing Atsushi’s shirt, but he stopped when he saw his face. Just like before, he stared.

Despite the ruckus of the tavern around them, everything seemed to silence. Atsushi could finally see his face up close, with his fair skin and pale, thin lips. Atsushi’s lungs held his breath captive.

Then the man’s features darkened. His brow furrowed, his lips turned downwards in a deep scowl, and hatred like Atsushi had never seen flared in his eyes.

“You,” he snarled like a wild dog.

Atsushi’s hands seemed to move on their own. They settled on the man’s cheeks, stroking them. They felt softer than sea moss.

And before the man could sputter out another word, Atsushi’s voice filled the space between them.

His mouth formed words, notes, a song spilling from him before he understood its meaning, and

the man’s eyes and body began to relax. His expression softened, almost melting in Atsushi’s hands. A smile even formed on his ever-so-slightly parted lips.

Atsushi reveled in it. He wanted him to keep smiling, to stay content in his touch, in his song. The look in his eyes almost seemed hypnotic, unfocused and turning upwards.

“Atsushi!”

Though he still sang, Atsushi turned ever so slightly to Dazai, who stared at him and grabbed onto his shoulder.

“What are you doing?!” He hissed.

Atsushi couldn’t answer without breaking his song. But as he looked back at the man’s face, to his own hands, he could see the scales forming on his skin, watched as his claws grew longer.

“Your transformation’s breaking,” Dazai snapped.

Atsushi could feel his breath hitch. His song faltered. In that split second, he saw everyone else in the tavern watching him with that same vacant look on their faces. Each of them had fallen under the spell of his song.

But he didn’t stop. If anything, his voice grew louder. He just wanted to watch his one human, watch the contentment and happiness on his face. Atsushi’s voice alone seemed to cause shudders of pleasure all throughout his body.

Atsushi’s mouth began to water again. He opened his jaws wide, fangs extending as his transformation shed off his body like dead skin. The trousers he had been wearing fell to the ground as his legs turned back into his long tail, and he leaned forward even though he struggled to stand, bringing his mouth to his human’s neck.

He jumped when the gunshot rang through the air. His voice broke, his song ending abruptly as he tore his gaze from his human and to the door where armed guards suddenly stood, guns in their hands..

“I TOLD YOU I HEARD A SIREN!” One of them shouted at the man directly beside him, wax filling their ears to block out Atsushi’s song.

Paralysis shot through Atsushi’s body like a lightning bolt. His human began to stir, Atsushi’s spell wearing off as he looked directly into the barrel of a gun.

Dazai scooped him into his arms and ran before the bullet flew through the air, bursting from the gun with a deafening bang. Atsushi covered his ears as Dazai jumped out the nearest open window, landing in the alley, tumbling to the ground.

“I can’t leave you alone for a minute, eh?” He huffed as he sprang to his feet, hurtling onto the cobblestone road. Atsushi clung to his neck like a hatchling.

People in the street began to scream, shouting and pointing at Atsushi as Dazai darted past them, Atsushi’s tail failing.

“THEY’RE RUNNING AWAY!”

Heart pounding, Atsushi looked behind them. He watched as the guards burst back out of the tavern, their boots pounding on the cobblestone street, their bullets flying past the sirens’ ears.

“We just have to make it to the ocean,” grunted Dazai, scrambling in and out of alleyways to avoid the guards’ bullets. Atsushi could only nod, panic and confusion and dizziness overwhelming his body, flooding his head. He couldn’t taste anything but ale, couldn’t smell anything but his human.

They wound around paths, the smell and roar of the ocean growing nearer, yet still too far. The world seemed to spin around Atsushi, blurring in front of his eyes.

Then he could see it. Dark, glittering in the moonlight. Dazai gave a small, strained smile before a cry of pain split the air.

Dazai stumbled. His lips turned downward in a grimace, but he still hobbled out onto a pier, gripping Atsushi to his chest. The scent of siren blood began to spill from him.

Atsushi didn’t have the chance to see where he had been shot. Before he could even ask, Dazai tottered off the pier and into the ocean.

The cold water slammed into Atsushi, petrifying him. He could only see bubbles, could only hear the roar of the ocean, could only see tinges of red in the water. His head seemed to spin in circles.

He gasped when he broke the surface, looking around frantically.

“DAZAI!” He shouted, eyes darting back and forth. Nothing rose from the water.

One glance behind himself, and he saw they had been followed. The guards ran out onto the pier, pointing their guns at the water, shouting orders to the nearby ships.

“FIRE ON THE SIRENS!”

Atsushi dove back under the surface, darting back and forth. His blurred vision trailed behind him as panic rose in his throat like bile.

“Dazai!” His scales flashed.

That had been his mistake.

Pain suddenly flared up from his side. He screamed, bubbles pouring out of his mouth. The smell of his own blood mingled with Dazai’s.

He thrashed, whipping around to the harpoon buried in his side. Instinctively, he sunk his teeth into the rope, tearing into it easily before it could pull him back to its ship.

He could hear his own heartbeat now. Blood trailed behind him. He only thought of swimming, of swimming far away from the gunshots and guards and ships.

He swam until the pain overwhelmed him. His body fell still, feeling as if fire flared from both of his harpoon wounds, piercing beneath his ribs and out of his back. Only the tide moved him as he cried out, a sound absorbed by the sea.

He only knew he had washed ashore when he could clearly hear his own screams.

He wove his song into his cries. Perhaps instinctively, perhaps desperately; he couldn’t be sure.

He couldn’t tell how much time had passed. He simply blinked, and the sky changed, the stars moved. Blackouts washed over him with the frequency of the sea, rushing over and off his body, stinging his side with every salty wave.

Atsushi’s voice slowly gave out. Rasps and choked noises replaced his screams, and his wide eyes stared upwards. Dreams began to pile on top of him, dreams of seeing his human, of hearing his voice.

He stared upwards at him. Even if this were a dream, Atsushi only wanted to see his face, to imagine him standing close once more. He gasped for air when he meant to speak to his illusion, remembering the low tones of his voice in a faroff mumble.

Everything grew dark again as warmth wrapped around Atsushi. His head rolled back, the pain overwhelming his body until it enveloped him, pulling him down into itself. But at the same time, he thought he felt himself lifting into the air, something like arms holding him tight.

If only his human would truly hold him that tenderly, thought Atsushi as he could no longer keep his eyes open. Maybe that’s all he had wanted.

Maybe if he lived, he could fix things, he mused as his cruel dream carried him away, taunting him with his human’s voice, his touch. Maybe they could just be happy together. Maybe his human would forgive him.

Atsushi smiled sadly as darkness overcame him. Dreams could be cruel.

#shin soukoku #sskk #atsuaku #akuatsu #siren au #mermaid au

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dai-png · 4 years ago

Text

Lessons~ Hawks

word count 2,100

"Y/n I believe we have been over this You have to cut the attitude, or other agencies won't want to work with us!", hawks explained. "This agency means a lot to me, and I need you to put more effort into it." You nodded, listening to the same agonizing mantra.

You rolled your eyes as you sat in front of his desk " Well Hawks, since you know how it should be, maybe you should teach me instead of repeating yourself every day", you said in a mocking tone.

Hawks walked over to his office door and locked it, while closing all the windows

He continued on over to his desk, standing in front of you. "You know that's not a bad idea but, before we do anything I would like your consent to touch you in any way I see fit."

You almost laughed in his face due to his ridiculous request, but you couldn't deny yourself such an opportunity. Yeah he pissed you off most of the time but he was such a sight to look at

You looked him up and . " Yes, you have my consent." You said

Hawks lifted you up and sat you on top of his desk; the faint smell of his cologne filling your nose. "Lesson 1....begins now, " He rasped.

You stayed quiet when you felt him nearing towards you, his dominating aura spilling out.

"You're pretty quiet for someone who always has some smart shit to say, Where's all that talk now, beautiful, hm?" He smirked

You squirmed underneath his gaze, knowing that he was full aware of your arousal.

Hawks was always very observant and nothing ever went unnoticed with him, it was truly scary sometimes, because he could be far away from you or the agency itself and he still knows everything that goes on.

You shifted your attention back to hawks and saw that he was tugging on the hem of your button down shirt. The air in the room becoming seemingly thicker as he played with one of the buttons.

"Wouldn't it be a shame if.... Oops." he said undoing a button; "I'm really sorry my finger slipped, but it bothers me that only one is undone, so it looks like i'm going to have to undo the rest." Hawks grinned

You grew irritated as his fingertips were just barely touching you. "Hawks how the fuck is this going to help me?" you muttered.

He grabbed your chin, closing the distance between you two. " You really need to learn how to shut. Up." He growled, keeping his face close to yours.

"You see Y/n, the reason I have you on top of this desk, touching you so faintly is because I want you to learn your place, If that means I have to fuck the attitude out of you, I will not fail to do so." He scoffed

You looked at him astonished by his words, but you wanted him to touch you even more because of it. Hawks continued to hover over you, observing your body language.

Getting impatient, you grabbed his tie pulling his body even closer to yours. He chuckled by the sudden move.

" Aww, Look at you becoming so bold."

He groaned, feeling the bulge in his pants growing bigger. "I'll ask you one more time before we do this y/n, do I have your consent to touch you in any way I see fit?" You let go of his tie and reassured him

" Yes you have my consent, I promise."

Hawks smiled, while trailing his fingers down your chest. His touch was gentle but his eyes were full of lust.

"I strive to make you ache for me beautiful, now be a doll for me and take off your bra, I mean I would do it myself but, I can't let you have too much of my touch without earning it, now can I?"

You shifted on top of his desk, doing as he said. You stared down at your bra as it fell to floor, leaving you completely exposed. Your nipples hardening as the cool air hit your chest. Even though you were staring at the floor you could see Hawks keeping a vigorous gaze on you.

He leaned down to place sloppy kisses on your neck and collar bone, his warm tongue sliding across your skin, it's almost enough to make you moan his name, but you know better than to give him the satisfaction.

"Playing the quiet game are we?, If you think that you can stay quiet for long then you've got it all fucked up angel." He rasped in your ear.

You squeaked as you felt him rubbing his middle and his forefinger against your slit. Your hips grinding further into his touch and the wet spot on the outside of your panties becoming more evident.

"Tsk Tsk Tsk, See now I have to draw back, because someone's being a greedy little slut." Hawks said taking his fingers away from your pussy.

You grew irritated and blurted words you knew you would regret " You probably couldn't get me off anyway." You shrugged

Hawks furrowed his eyes and reached under your skirt, grabbing the hem of your panties, jerking them down. His hands roughly grabbing your hips and pulling your unclothed pussy into him. You could feel his precum leaking through his dress pants.

" You talk a lot of shit, I think it's time I shut you up. Get on your knees like a good girl." Hawks threatened.

The anger radiating off of him made you realize he wasn't fucking around. You quickly got off of his desk and sunk down to the ground. Hawks pulled up a chair directly in front of you, sitting with his legs spread like he was some kind of god.

He stroked his dick at the sight of you being so vulnerable, his tip red from teasing it so much. He gathered his precum on his fingers and motioned for you to come closer.

" open your mouth and taste this, I want you to have a preview of what you will be tasting before you start choking around my dick."

You opened your mouth around swirled your tongue around his fingers letting the sticky substance marinate on your tongue. " I need more.", You thought. You had never thought you would be this fucking horny for a man that would work your nerves every single day. A man that had always criticized and annoyed the hell out of you.

But here you are, on your knees, wanting to beg for more. Wanting him to touch you in ways that no man or woman could ever imagine. You wanted him- no you needed him.

"Well angel, I'm waiting, hurry up and take me into that sweet mouth of yours." Hawks grinned

You hesitantly wrapped your lips around the head sucking it softly. You didn't really know what you were doing and Hawks caught on to that very quickly. " Do you need me to teach you how to do it?" He asked. His tone was a bit more sincere rather than mocking.

You shook your head yes and patiently awaited for his instructions.

" Don't take it all in your mouth at once just suction the head a little, yeah just like that." Hawks grunted, while guiding you.

His hands tangled in your hair to keep your head in place, you could feel his body tense up as his length touched the back of your throat. You gagged as tears swelled up in your eyes, the sensation almost becoming too much for you.

"F-Fuck angel that's it, look at you taking my dick like a champ." Hawks chuckled. His Groans becoming louder as you bobbed your head up and down, your throat tightening around him.

He looked so good like this, his head thrown back with low lidded eyes, looking down at you. His groans were so deep and sultry sounding. Listening to him made your pussy wet. You reached down to touch yourself, gliding your fingers against your slick.

Hawks grip on your hair tightened as he pulled you off of him, " What the fuck do you think you're doing, he said raising his brow. " Do you need to be touched that bad angel?" He laughed

"No that's not it I just-" You tried to say, but you were taken back by hawks guiding you too his lap.

"Well since you're so damn eager, come and sit on this dick, come and show me who's boss why don't you? He teased.

You sat in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck while, slowly sliding down on his girthy dick. You winced a little from how much he filled you up, the mixture of pain and pleasure taking over your body

You looked at hawks whose body was all tensed and frozen, you rotated your hips around him just to get used to how big he was. But your hips came to a halt when you felt a hand wrap around your throat.

F-fuck, quit playing around and just start bouncing already, please? He begged.

"Please?!" you thought. Hawks was never the type of person to beg for anything.

Hawks was always a very dominating man, a man that never let his guard down for anybody. Always wanted people to obey and take commands but right now that seemed to be dismissed.

His hips bucking up into you, out of anticipation, just waiting for you to do something, anything

You took advantage of his vulnerability and slid down on him, painfully slow. You smiled at how he squirmed underneath you, whimpering like you were his mistress.

"Damn it Y/n I swear- you have one more chance to quit teasing me or else" Hawks warned.

You raised one eyebrow and smirked at him. "Or what Ha-........ You were silenced by him lifting you up and walking from the chair to the couch in his office.

He laid you down and pinned you all in one swift movement. " Alright beautiful I let you have your fun but now it's my turn, so get on all fours and arch it for me. He smirked

You turned your body around without any hesitation and placed your ass up in the highest position it could go. You pushed your ass back against him wiggling it a bit, still not wanting to give him that full satisfaction.

"Is that an invitation sweetheart"? "Well if you insist."

Hawks gripped your hips slowly pushing in. You moaned feeling him stretch you once more. His precum leaking inside you.

He loved the way you felt around him, so warm and inviting. His dick dragging along side your sopping walls was just enough to make you wail

"What, does that feel good? Those deep and slow strokes just penetrating your little hole." Hawks chuckled

You wanted to retaliate and say something back but he was just making you feel so damn good.

"Feels so good Hawks-, ahh please." You purred

You started push back on him, matching his thrusts, your slippery pussy was gripping him so tightly. Your hands gripped the sides of the couch as he pounded you even harder

Nothing but The sounds of his balls slapping your clit and the squelching of your pussy, filling the room.

"Hah- quit squeezing around me like that or I'll-" Hawks breathed out

He was losing his control his thrusts becoming sloppier and his groans getting louder as each second passed. He leaned down and aligned his mouth on your neck.

"Come on baby, don't hold back, let it go for me." He soothed

You reached down and rub your clit vigorously, feeling your walls convulse and throb around his dick.

Hawks breath staggered as he felt you let go around him, your pussy was tugging at his dick over and over again, wanting to drain his cum filled balls.

Damn, you look so pretty cumming all over my dick."

Hawks pulled out, turning you over onto your back. " Open your mouth for me beautiful, and take all of my cum, don't you dare let a drop go to waste."

He grunted, while fisting his dick a few times, before spilling his seed at the back of your throat. You took all of it, obeying him like a good girl.

Hawks soon collapsed on the couch with you, His wings covering and embracing the both of you.

I hope you're prepared beautiful, because lesson two starts tomorrow.

#mha #mha fanfiction #hawks #hawks x reader #pro hero hawks #hawkssmut #hawks imagine #hawks x y/n

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raviotherabbit · 3 years ago

Text

royal pain in the ass- chapter 6

Chapter 6: Era of the Great Sea Captain Tetra saves some castaways.

[first] - [previous] - [next] read it on ao3!

△ ▲△

There was just something about Outset Island.

Tetra hated pretty much everything about it. The people there were soft, even the fishermen who spent their days hunting down the monsters of the sea. Everyone was preoccupied with their simple lives. Rearing their children, washing their clothes and hanging them to dry, playing with wooden swords…

They all went on like this, day after day, as though a great and powerful kingdom did not lay in ruins, miles below the sea.

But still, some little part of Tetra couldn’t help but want it. She wanted that simple life, to live without a care in the world. The burden on her shoulders was heavy, but the time she’d spent on Link’s little island, where nobody needed anything from her, had lifted it.

So when she found Link on Outset, of all places, well… that just sweetened the deal, didn’t it?

Rats… Wind was his name, now, wasn’t it? At least for now it was.

The best part of Outset, though, had to be the woods. The Forest of Fairies was quiet these days, which perhaps made it all the more ideal in Tetra’s opinion. She never got a second alone on her ship, not truly, but she could here.

Gently, she placed a hand on one of the trees, tracing the grooves in its bark. She was familiar with this one. When the Helmaroc King dropped her, it was this tree that she fell into, the branches snagging on her clothes. And then she met Wind.

Goddesses, where would she be without Wind? If this one, special, stupid kid hadn’t found her that day. Part of her wanted to think she could have taken Ganondorf on her own, and that was the part of her she let control the narrative.

Still, the Forest of Fairies was beautiful. Tetra could only hope their new home would have places half as pretty. With its cool breeze rustling fallen leaves, the ever-present smell of fresh dew, and gentle harp strumming…

Wait. Who the hell was playing the harp up here?!

Her good mood thoroughly ruined, Tetra followed the sound of the harp. Eventually, she came upon one of the heroes, sitting at the forest’s cliff.

What was his name? Cloud? No, that’s close, but not right… What’s a Hero of the Clouds, anyway? That sounded stupid. Hero of the Sun? Hero of the… Wind? No wait-

Sky! It’s Sky!

Yikes, though. Sky didn’t look so good. He kept plucking at the strings of his harp, but each time he only made it a few notes in before wincing. There were dark circles under his eyes, which kept darting up towards his clear, blue namesake with desperation.

Tetra almost left right then and there.

But there was a voice in the back of her head, one that sounded a bit like Wind, a bit like an old king. A princess would try to help her people.

Ugh. Fine. This would be a good practice run, anyway.

“Hey, buddy,” Tetra awkwardly tried to put on her cheerful princess voice. “What’s- what’s up?”

Sky looked back at her, almost no emotion on his face. “Oh, Zelda.”

“It’s Tetra,” she responded instinctively, mentally cringing at her own bluntness. She’s trying to be nice now!

“Right, Tetra,” Sky nodded, as if reminding himself. “I have a question for you.”

“Alright, I can answer questions.” Tetra took a seat next to Sky, letting her legs dangle off the cliff’s edge. “What do you want to know?”

“Your Hyrule,” he gestured towards the Great Sea, expanding as far as the eye could see. “How did it come to be this way?”

Right, this guy’s the first one. “Well, Ganondorf was sealed in the Evil Realm,” she started.

“Then what happened?”

“He broke free. The people of Hyrule, they prayed to the Goddesses to save them from his wrath, and-” Tetra swallowed. “And they flooded the land.”

For a moment, Sky was silent. His grip on his harp was tight, and for a moment, Tetra was concerned he’d break it. It was such a nice piece of treasure, after all, and it’d be a shame if it were harmed.

Finally, he spoke again. “How many died?”

“What?” Tetra almost shouted, certain she’d misheard him.

“When the flood came, how many died?” Sky reiterated, his gaze focused on the waves lapping at Outset’s shore.

“I- I don’t…” she sputtered helplessly. “I don’t know.”

“This is the legacy I’ve left the world,” Sky said. “What did their blind faith bring them?”

△ ▲△

Standing on the stern of her ship, Captain Tetra takes in a deep breath and sighs. There’s nothing like the open ocean, is there? Cutting through the waves, the smell of salt in the night air…

With Wind gone on his little hero quest, searching for new land has taken a backseat. He would kill her if she even thought about founding her kingdom without him there by her side. Well, at least try to. They both know who would really win that fight.

But it’s not so bad. New Hyrule can wait, Tetra has a chance to focus on some of her own passions.

“Captain!” It’s Gonzo, Tetra’s right-hand man. He stops a few feet behind her. “We’ve spotted the Ghost Ship at Greatfish Isle!”

Like hunting down and destroying every last Ghost Ship on the high fucking seas.

“Excellent.” Tetra smirks. “Alter course for Greatfish. We’re going to destroy some undead tonight.”

“Uh, that’s just it, Captain,” Gonzo says. “There’s people on the island, yeah? And they’re fighting the monsters!”

“What?!” Tetra snaps back towards her subordinate. “Who would be stupid enough to fight a Ghost Ship?!”

△ ▲△

Of course, the second they noticed the ship, that’s when the undead started jumping onto their islet.

“Get it off get it off get it off get it off!” Flora desperately shouts as, using the Magnesis Rune, she slams the shield from Artemis down onto the Stalfos that has an iron-tight grip on her ankle.

“Flora, use the shield!” Dusk shouts over her shoulder, focused more on parrying off the sword of a Stalfos. In the same swift movement, she drives her rapier cleanly into its skull. As much as Artemis hates to admit it, Dusk is good. “Don’t make it a mallet!”

“She knows what she’s doing!” Artemis contends, just as her sword meets the lantern of a poe. “She doesn’t need you telling her what to do!”

“Now isn’t the time for arguing with each other!” Sun’s exasperation drips off her words. She’s just barely able to duck, dodging a swing from a Stalfos. On the ground, she kicks a leg out, knocking the walking skeleton off its feet.

Artemis’s eye twitches, and she snaps back around in anger. “I’m just saying-!”

But that moment of distraction was just a smidge too much. The Poe rises behind her, raising its glowing hand, preparing for the one, fatal strike. But before Flora can even gasp, or Sun can yell for her to watch out-

BANG!

The Poe’s lantern shatters, and with an agonizing shriek, it disappears.

There’s another ship in the water, bearing a red and white sail with two crossed swords. And there, gripping onto a rope as she leans off the bowsprit, is Tetra, the barrel of her gun smoking.

“Tetra!” Artemis could breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank the Goddess you’re here!”

Tetra blinks, taken aback for a moment. “Queenie?! I thought the Time War was over!”

“Fight now, talk later!” Sun shouts over the Stalfos she has in a headlock.

Tetra nods, tilting her head back towards her ship. “Boys! Lend them a hand!”

At her word, a crew of men lapel down from the ship and into the shallow waters. With their cutlasses drawn, they begin slicing away at the Poes and Stalfos attacking the stranded ladies.

Tetra sharply whistles, catching Artemis’s attention. “Queenie, take your best, leave the other two behind! We’re boarding that ship!”

Artemis bites her cheek. Her best, huh?

Well, there was no doubt about which of them had the most training.

“Dusk!” she cups her mouth as she yells.

And Dusk almost instantaneously freezes, her rapier dropping slightly as she looks at Artemis, her eyes wide.

“Come with me to the ship!” Artemis points towards the Ghost Ship. “We need you!”

For a moment, a very brief one, Dusk doesn’t react. Then, she smirks, a smugness only a queen could have.

“It’s about time,” she says.

△ ▲△

The second they step into the Ghost Ship’s hull, Dusk’s nose wrinkles. “I can practically feel the dust in the air.”

The whole interior of the ship seems to be filled with smog, solidifying the undead ambience. Its wooden walls groan as it’s rocked by the sea, giving off the same eerie blue lighting it had on the outside. Below them, on the ship’s bottom, were monsters. Poes and ReDeads.

“We need to get back there,” Tetra gestures towards the back of the ship with her cutlass. “Once we take the treasure, the ship will disappear.”

“Right, because you’re pirates,” Dusk crosses her arms. “Remind me how you two know each other, again?”

Artemis and Tetra exchange a glance. “The War Across the Ages,” the former explains. “We recruited many individuals adrift from their own eras.”

“But pirates? Really?” Dusk gestures to Tetra with a hand.

“I’ll have you know, I’m the greatest pirate who ever sailed this sea,” Tetra jabs her thumb towards herself.

Artemis rolls her eyes. “Come on you two, behave. You’re cousins, after all.”

“Wh-what?!” Dusk sputters. “I thought you said her name was Tetra!”

Tetra snorts. “Yeah, but to some people, it’s Princess Zelda.” She holds out her hand, winking at Dusk. “Welcome to the family, cousin!”

Hesitantly, Dusk shakes her hand. Tetra responds with a shocking amount of vigor.

“Now that that’s settled,” Artemis claps her hands together. “How about we defeat some undead?”

As if answering her question, Tetra shoots right at the ReDead’s skull. While her bullet is enough to defeat the single ReDead, the sound also draws the attention of the other monsters on the ship. Slowly, they begin shambling towards the ledge the ladies stand on.

“Oh great,” Dusk mutters to herself. “There goes our element of surprise.”

“Dusk, we should stick together,” Artemis suggests, careful in her phrasing as she draws her rapier. “We can watch each other’s backs.”

With a nod, Dusk retrieves her own sword. “Let’s go,” is the only thing she says before she jumps off the ledge.

△ ▲△

These new guys, Sun decides, are good. They’re decent with their swords, though she knows they’d be better if they’d attended the Knight’s Academy. At least they’re good enough to make up for both Artemis and Dusk’s absences.

One of the taller pirates slices clean through the neck of a Stalfos, its head landing just at Sun’s feet. Rearing her foot up, she crushes it under her boot. Of course, she’d never admit it, but that crunch! is such a sweet sound. Like music to her ears.

Sun’s ears twitch slightly as they pick up the faint sound of clanging metal. She’s just in time to duck again, missing a swing from an angry Poe.

“Hey, pirates!” she shouts, hoping to catch the attention of at least one of them. “Think one of you can take this for me?”

The tall one with the bandana nods, quickly moving himself between Sun and the Poe. She sighs. She just isn’t equipped to deal with that, today. Maybe if she’d remembered to bring a sword…

Sure, hand-to-hand combat isn’t usually her first choice, but Sun has grown to appreciate it over the past few minutes. Hylia, not just appreciate it. She loves it, more than she ever thought she would. Who would have guessed that punching things would be so fun?

“Well, well, look who’s decided to grace us with her presence.”

Oh, that sounds considerably less fun!

Turning behind her, Sun sees what must be the monster Artemis and Flora told her about. Because as her eyes lay on him, it’s almost as if his form is wobbling, before solidifying into a figure she knows well.

It’s a shadow of Sky. A representation of her Link, but if he was dunked in black paint and given terrifying red eyes.

“I’ve heard of you,” Sun’s eyes narrow at Dark Link.

“Ah, and I know you, your grace,” Dark Link laughs, and though it’s cruel and contemptuous, some part of her head thinks, ‘That’s familiar.’

“But tell me,” he continues. “What’s Hylia herself doing so far from home?”

Sun freezes, her blood running cold. “How did you…? Who are you?”

“What, you don’t recognize your own hero?” Dark Link frowns mockingly. “You know, I thought he’d take the longest to crack, but just a few whispers about the sea, and-” he abruptly snaps. “He was as good as gone. Now that fairy brat, on the other hand…”

“Stop it,” Sun snaps at him. “Just tell me where they are.”

“Oh? And why would you care?” The shadow tilts his head, and for a moment, his confusion almost seems genuine. “You goddesses have never cared for the fates of your heroes.”

And then, there’s a spark inside of Sun, and it sets her whole mind on fire. “I am not Hylia,” she asserts, grabbing onto his arm. “I. Am. ZELDA!”

It’s a moment of pure focus, the first time she’s ever said anything like that aloud, let alone screamed it. Unfortunately, it’s also a moment of distraction, just as Dark Link wanted. He draws his shadowy Master Sword, raises it above his head, and-

“SUN!”

Suddenly, Flora pushes Sun out of the way. The sword’s hilt strikes her head with a loud, sickening CRACK! She ends up collapsing right on top of her ancestor.

“Flora!” Sun gasps, tilting the scholar’s chin up to get a better look at her. After such a nasty blow, it makes sense that she’s out cold. But there’s blood, a lot of it, practically running down her face from above her left eye.

“You hurt her!” Sun exclaims, drawing Flora as close as she can bring her. “You son of a-!”

But, just then, they’re interrupted by two more shouts. In all the hassle, Sun hadn’t even noticed the Ghost Ship’s disappearance. Dusk, Artemis, and Tetra stand on the shore, staring right at the mess in front of them.

In an almost simultaneous burst of light, Artemis and Dusk summon their Bows of Light. Tetra draws her pistol, all three taking aim at Dark Link.

“Not another move, asshat,” Tetra warns him. “Attacking a princess is rude, you know.”

“She’s a queen,” Artemis informs her.

“Attacking a queen is rude, you know,” Tetra amends.

“Well,” Dark Link raises his hands above his head. “It seems we’re at an impasse.” He catches Sun’s eye one last time. “Farewell for now, your grace.”

Before any shots can be fired, Dark Link’s shadowy mass collapses in on itself. Like a splash of water, he sinks into the ground and disappears.

As the adrenaline fades from her body, Sun suddenly looks down at the bleeding body in her arms. She tightens her grip around her descendant, instinctively covering Flora’s wound with her hands.

“Oh no,” she mutters to herself as her fingers turn red. “Guys! We need help!”

△ ▲△

It’s just a head wound, Tetra told them. And a head wound means it looks worse than it is, and it’ll bleed more than usual. Flora’s fine, she insists, she’ll wake up soon. All they have to do is keep an eye on her bandages and wait.

“I mean, you’ve seen my Link,” Tetra explains, leaning against her ship’s railing. “He gets a concussion every other week. He’s bounced back from worse than what Flora has.”

There really was no reason to stay on Greatfish any longer, now that they had Tetra and her crew. She’d been so generous as to waive the transport fee, something about a family discount that Artemis didn’t really hear. They’re heading to Windfall Island, so that they can restock their supplies before the next portal appears.

Flora was set up in one of the bedrooms below deck, tucked safely into one of the beds. Artemis has taken it upon herself to remain by her side, at least until she wakes up. She’s just so pale, and she hasn’t moved an inch…

As the first rays of light touch the sea, there’s a light knock on the door.

“Come in,” Artemis calls out, rising from her chair at Flora’s bedside.

The door creaks open, and Dusk pops her head in. “How’s she doing?” she asks, tilting her head towards Flora.

“No change,” Artemis crosses her arms and sighs. “I know Tetra said this is normal, but still…”

Dusk steps into the cabin, closing the door behind her with a sigh. “Sun’s a bit of a wreck. I told her I’d check in on Flora if she ate something.”

“She doesn’t blame herself, does she?” Artemis questions, wringing her hands together.

“The hit was intended for her, from what I can gather,” Dusk reveals. She gently places a hand at the top of Flora’s head. “You’re quite brave.”

Artemis smiles weakly, sitting back in her chair. “How are you holding up, Dusk?”

“I’ll admit, pirate ships aren’t as bad as I thought,” Dusk chuckles lightly. “It’s quite cozy here.”

“Dusk, I’m-” Artemis starts, but she swallows and starts again. “I’m sorry. You haven’t really spent that much time travelling before, and it was irresponsible of me to assume you’d feel comfortable with it immediately.”

“Artemis,” Dusk sighs. She kneels next to her, taking her hands into her own. “I should be the one apologizing. You were trying your best, but… I’m sorry, I was rude about your night watch, and I really ruined the whole thing, didn’t I?”

“Oh come on,” Artemis scoffs, but for once, there’s no malice behind her words. Her hands return Dusk’s grip with a tight squeeze. “You clearly weren’t okay with it, and I took that personally instead of making sure you were alright.”

“I just…” Dusk purses her lips together. “I’m scared of being alone in the dark.”

“Then you won’t have to cover any watches,” Artemis asserts. “But, you know, I spent a lot of time in a warped version of your era. I even met the most peculiar woman, a princess of the Twilight Realm…”

Dusk gasps. “You met Midna.”

“I did,” she nods. “So if you ever need someone to talk to, please consider me.”

Wordlessly, Dusk leans forward and pulls Artemis into what might be the warmest hug she’s felt in years. And instinctually, Artemis hugs her back.

For a long time, they stay like that.

“You know, I never figured it out,” Dusk suddenly speaks. “Flora’s down the family tree, and Sun’s up it. When exactly does the War Across the Ages take place?”

“From your perspective? You have about two-hundred years to go,” Artemis reveals. “You’re my grandmother a few times over, by the way.”

“What?!” Dusk suddenly draws back. “Why didn’t you lead with that?!”

△ ▲△

Waking up is quite the process. When Flora opens her eyes for the first time, her vision is blurry. Like the world’s been spun around. Just barely, she’s able to lift her head, though her neck protests such movements.

There, sitting at the edge of her bed, though. That has to be Mipha. Who else would wait for her like that, within arm’s reach should she need an extra bit of healing?

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Daruk and Urbosa just a few feet away. They’re talking to each other, maybe about her. Their tones are quiet and subdued, though. And Revali! Revali is waiting, just by the door. That's just like him to hover, even if he pretends not to.

‘Did I pass out in the spring again?’ she wonders.

“Flora?”

But then, she blinks, and it’s almost as though the scene shifts. It’s Sun sitting on her bed, a look of hope clear on her face. Artemis and Dusk freeze, gaping at Flora’s awakening. Tetra is the one who’s by the door, though she’s clearly keeping her distance.

Right. Of course.

“Flora!” Sun springs to her feet. “You’re okay!”

And then, before Flora’s sluggish mind can catch up with her, Sun wraps her up into a tight hug. Flora’s head throbs at the sudden, jerky movement.

“Ow…” Flora groans.

Sun gasps in shock, dropping Flora back onto her pillow. “Sorry!”

“Hylia’s fucking tits-” Tetra curses, missing Sun covering her chest with an arm at those words. She pushes herself between Sun and Flora. “Do none of you know how to handle head injuries? Stop moving her around!”

“I’m sorry, it’s just-” Sun awkwardly fidgets with her fingers. “She got hurt because of me! I need to make sure she’s okay!”

“And I want to make sure my travels with you four start off on the right foot,” Tetra insists. “Without anyone dying.”

“I’m fine,” Flora croaks out.

Dusk gestures a hand to the young queen. “See? She’s fine.”

“You’ve decided you’re coming with, then?” Artemis suddenly appears at Flora’s side, lightly patting her head. “You didn’t need much convincing.”

Tetra shrugs. “I figure I owe Link this much. He’d do the same for me.”

“Woo,” Flora weakly cheers, lamely raising a fist in celebration.

Artemis gently pushes her hand down. “We’ve still got a few days left on the Great Sea, Flora, don’t get your hopes up. We’re not going anywhere until that head wound of yours closes.”

“Aw…” Flora pouts, crossing her arms.

“Get some rest, kid,” Dusk instructs her. “You look like you need it.”

“You,” Flora points to Tetra, though there’s already a drowsiness to her words. “You’re going to tell me more about your time.”

Tetra nods mockingly, taking Flora’s hand into her own. “When you wake up, your majesty.”

#linked universe #lu tetra #lu flora #lu artemis #lu dusk #lu sun #rpita #fanfic #rav's writing

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bubblyani · 4 years ago

Text

Bail Out : 10 (FINAL)

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi Chapter Series

Chapter 10: Life Sentence (Final Chapter)

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 6200+

Rating: Mature (18+)

Warnings: Violence, Swearing and Sexual Content

Author’s Note: The Final Chapter is finally here! As much as it makes me happy to give this the ending I wanted, I am truly sad to part with this Series. Hope you will enjoy this for the last time <3

CHAPTER LIST

Serene was the nocturnal sky, generously adorned with stars that shone like diamonds. Though an obstinate circle of clouds slowly advanced from the distance, the sky brimmed with enough confidence. Enough to conquer the night with its serenity. A sheer contradiction to the chaos that conquered the rooftop of Wayne Tower. Chaos that morphed into a fight to the death.

Gripping on to the phone, a surge of hope rushed through your system within a matter of seconds. For Blake’s message helped. It was the solution to all this. “LOOK OUT!” Batman’s growl made you look back. Your face grew pale the moment your eyes caught the sight of Emilio, pointing a gun at you. All happened in a matter of seconds. “You’re getting away that easy!” He said, chill embodying him with his hand in the trigger. It seemed death was greedy for your company. Frozen in place, Would you accept? “Goodby-Ow!” A surprise attack greeted Emilio from the back as the Dark Knight forcefully bashed his head with his elbow, leaving Mr. Slender on the ground, fully unconscious. You sighed looking at Batman, relieved to find him well. Except, you realized the evening was not fully resolved. Wait! Your heart raced frantically. Where was Clara all the sudden? Darkness was an ally to Clara, camouflaged as she ambushed Batman from the back. You gasped as you saw her grab his neck with a black wire, forcing him to fall on his knees as she began to strangle him with it. A strong man, he certainly was. You needed no proof. However, sneak attacks such a this were practically anyone’s weakness. Thus, his agonizing roars frightened you. Seemed that death turned its attention somewhere else. And that frightened you more. “No…Bruce” You whimpered to yourself, as your heartbeat grew fast in ten folds. Never had you lost anyone you cared for. And as weak as it seemed, you were not prepared to lose him. Not him. Not him at all.

“Wait! WAIT!!” You yelled at Clara, “DON’T DO THIS! NOT TO HIM!!”   Unfortunately, those words did not reach Clara’s ears. Not when her focus was elsewhere. Even through the cowl, Bruce’s face had turned gaunt, struggling to pull the wire off his neck, but failing miserably. With gritted teeth and groans of frustration, Batman was as helpless as he could be. Smothering yourself by the sight of him this way, tears pooled around your eyes. And at that moment.That very moment, was when a memory flashed before you:

 “You know what? It’s a darn shame Joe Chill didn’t finish the job…He should have gotten rid of the entire Wayne family”

You remembered Henderson’s harsh words, insulting and harming the reputation of the man you admired before you at the hotel one fateful night. Then you also remembered the rage in your eyes, taking justice into action as your fist bashed through his nose.

Now here you were, having to stand up for the same man once more, except in actual dire circumstances. For it was his life that was harmed instead of his reputation. Being the reckless woman you were before will certainly not help.Not with her. Not with an opponent of this magnitude. As time ticked fast, you had to take action. Smart was key. Practicality was key. His life was key. Tightening your fists, you drew in a deep breath:

“ALPHA!!…” You cried out, to which she did not answer once again. Pressing your lips together, you yelled louder: “CLARA!! I KNOW, OKAY?…” You said, "I know, being in your position, you don’t wanna hear me out. I know!” You continued, “Especially me being the target but…” drawing in another breath for courage, you added, “But I ask you to make an exception...Oh god!” Covering your mouth, You gasped as she strangled him tighter. Unaffected, Clara scoffed:   “No offense but…A job is a job…” Gathering the courage that spilled all around, you held on to the phone tightly: “Yeah maybe but..What if the job is NOT worth it?” You inquired loudly. Looking up, she seemed a bit surprised. “What?” “I mean…” you paused, “Is Henderson really giving you what he promised?” You said, raising both arms, “Or don’t you have a feeling that he’s stalling ?” Clara stood straight. “What makes you say that??” She snapped defensively. “This…” You replied, pointing at your phone as you played the Blake’s file on loudspeaker: It was a conversation between two men.

“Sir, about the Bruiser, I think the police maybe onto us” One man said, his tone rife with concern. “Don’t worry, she’ll finally be taken care of” the other voice replied. Which seemingly was Henderson’s. “When do you want to wire the rest of the payment to Alpha?” Henderson’s cackle was loud, “Payment??” He repeated, “No that’s not gonna happen, Paterson” “Sir?” Paterson was confused. “This Alpha..he’s is a sly one, and definitely not the obedient kind. Do you think my plan was to pay that son of a bitch in full?? Nah...as soon as the job is done, I’m gonna get them all arrested...Cause no one...No one messes with Henderson” “But sir-” “THAT’S FINAL!”

Calmer was what you felt, as you put the phone back in your pocket. A few seconds of silence was all that required for Clara to loosen her grip on Batman. Her expression changed. It was filled with shock, as if the recording had slapped her in the face.

“Don’t you see??” You chuckled sadly, “Henderson is trying to make a fool out of ALL of us.” As you pointed at her, at Batman, even Emilio, “In the end...it’s us who’s getting screwed” Staring at the ground, Clara’s eyebrows furrowed. Being a pawn in someone else’s game was never good news, “That message could have easily been fabricated! ” She snapped with naiveté. You smiled sadly.

“I think you pretty much know that I don’t do that. I never do that” you said, tone brimming with confidence, “Remember, you once called me an unprofessional thug with anger issues? Well guess who’s exactly just that??” You added, “You’re not a reckless one, Clara. I know that. Don’t... let one bad client ruin your life, just don't”

Silence followed you soon after, sending you in to spirals of concern. Yet, it was evident you did your best. And waiting with bated breath seemed worthwhile, when Clara released finally Batman from her grasp. Falling on to the ground, you watched him gasp for air. As much as you longed to be there by his side, you merely kept standing, resolute in protecting his identity and your relationship with him. You stood as if he meant very little for you. Painful as it was, it had to be done. Yet, it did not stop you from smiling with relief.

“Here you are, getting away from death once again” you heard Clara say, as you found her looking at you with a smug expression, “Wait!” She paused, her smile disappearing, “ If I shot you…” she said, pointing at you, “…then…why aren’t you bleeding?”

Standing up slowly, you pulled up your t-shirt, revealing the black bulletproof vest, with the bullet still intact. Mouth slightly parted, Clara certainly appeared surprised. Upon seeing her reaction, you were certainly relieved to have listened to Alfred Pennyworth’s careful instructions earlier. You were relieved you actually listened.

“Loyalty has its perks, you were right” You said with a smile. You sensed Bruce looking at you, pleased. And if Alfred was there, he would not hesitate to offer a prideful nod.

Clara chuckled, before walking towards the now-groaning Emilio. And truthfully, you did not mind.Bad blood was never a necessity between the two of you. Regardless of all that happened, regardless of her attempts to wipe your existence off the face of the earth, your eyes could never put in a pair angry glasses when it came to Clara. Hurt you were, truly. But never wrath. And you were relieved. For you could empathize, for you respected her for who she truly was: a woman who took her job very seriously. Picking Emilio up, she looked over to you: “Everything aside…” she began, “I meant what I said...” she said, “...it has been an honor knowing you. But...it’s up to you to believe me” she added whilst shrugging. All you could do was to nod. For it seemed the most appropriate. And with a sudden cloud of smoke bursting before you, she and Emilio disappeared.

“Bruce!” You breathed worriedly, dashing towards Batman helping him slowly get back up. For finally, you were free to feel relieved for him. Breathing deeply, he looked you straight in the eyes through his cowl: “Are-Are you oka-”

He was cut off, as you decided to kiss him with utmost passion.

This kiss, it encompassed relief. Relief to find him alive and out of death’s reach. It encompassed of your guilt, of your inability to assist him sooner. And by his enthusiasm kissing you back, a rush of excitement coursed through you. Especially when you came to the realization you not just kissing Bruce Wayne, you were also kissing Batman. And that was not a common occurrence. Shrieking Police sirens from downstairs pulled both of you away. Given the sounds coming from inside the building, you knew there would be police company.

“Go...” You said to him, “...it’s okay” “You sure?” He inquired deeply, to which You nodded. “Absolutely...I can handle it” And you certainly were confident about it.

The roar of thunder surprised you, signaling the hasty arrival of cold showers, descending from the dark clouds that now had completely taken over the skies. Looking up, you smiled as the continuous drops refreshed your face.

“Well, whaddaya know?” you began, as you turned to look back at him “…it’s-” Only to find he had disappeared, “….raining”.

Amused once again by his signature move, You smiled to yourself, “So cool…” you muttered, looking over your shoulder the moment the rooftop door suddenly flew open, as a group of policemen finally swarmed out with John Blake’s familiar face leading them.

Though the clear skies were serene, the clouds truthfully seemed to have actually brought rains of hope in disguise. For finally, all was well for you. With an non washable smile on your face, you indulged in the rain for as long as adulthood permitted you to.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Gotham city, yet again declared its intention to never rest, and the Gotham Police was clear proof. But as you sat across John Blake’s desk, you were certain of the fact at least your heart could rest easy tonight. And you were grateful.

“Thanks for this by the way…” you said, gently pulling the neckline of the gray hoodie you had on. The rains of hope were refreshing, yet you were drenched by the end. Thus, the gray hoodie that was lent to you was a life savor.

“Oh, Officer Langdon had a spare one so..”

Blake replied casually, before looking over at Nina Langdon. You also looked over at her with surprise. Working on her police reports with diligence, she was the epitome of bad-assery in your eyes.

“You’re welcome” eyes meeting yours, Nina said coolly with a smile. Relieved, an inaudible “Thank You” escaped your lips as your head slightly bowed involuntarily. Nodding back, her eyes quickly move towards Blake’s, her smile growing larger. And you were immediately reminded of the visit from last time.

“I know…” You began softly, forcing Blake to look back at you, “…it’s not my place but…” you added, as he leaned forward with concern “I’ve been tracking some serious sparks between the two of you since my first time here…” you stated. And to your relief, Blake chuckled, making John chuckle, “…please tell me something’s going on-”

“Oh yeah there is…” John said, “…for sure” He confirmed with a nod.

“AHA!” You snapped your fingers victoriously, “So I DO have the sense. Thank goodness” you laughed alongside him. As the laughter subsided, you took a deep breath: “You were the real hero today, Officer…” you uttered, crossing your legs, “…I mean, if it weren’t for the recording…” you breathed in, “…it would have been one hell of a bloody evening…”

“Yeah…but …" he began, “I don’t know if I can use this against Henderson” a downcast expression clouded his face. Your eyebrows furrowed as you suppressed a sudden yawn.

“What do you mean?”

“You kidding right? An Officer recording a conversation through eavesdropping?” His eyes questioned your sanity, “ Wouldn’t exactly go well with our case…”

“Oh yeah…” a trace of enthusiasm left your system as you nodded. How naive you were to even assume this would be child’s play, “…and I bet the CCTV cameras had something to catch” you muttered, slowly coming to the disappointing realization. You may have escaped death. But the root of all danger, the man with the power and the riches, would be left unaffected. As if nothing significant occurred.

“I’m sorry this was a dead end,Ma’am” Blake said sadly. The vibration of your phone urged you to look down, seeing the text brought a smile. A comforting smile. “Not entirely” you replied, looking back at him, “I mean, We know who planned it all, right?And the assassin will have no business with me anymore..so…” you paused, “…not all hope is lost” Smiling warmly, you slowly got up, “You saved many lives today, that counts. Thank you...for everything, Officer Blake”

Officer Langdon stood next to Blake, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Looking at her hand, he turned back to you with a smile full of content. Fortunate you were truly to be arrested by him that fateful evening. Fortunate you were to have him believe in you. You were truly fortunate.

Standing by the entrance of the precinct, you breathed in deep. A smile was inevitable the moment your eyes caught the sight before you. Dressed in a fine suit as always, Bruce Wayne leaned against his Black Lamborghini as he waited for you late at night. With the streets almost empty at that hour, you were truthfully quite relieved to find him there. And admittedly, the sight of him instantly grabbed you by the hand, leading you to the very first morning when he showed up this way.

“You clean up pretty good, Mr. Wayne” You jested, slowly walking towards him. He smiled: “Part of the job, I guess” he responded which drove you to a chuckle, “Let’s go home”

A faint camera shutter sound intruded your ears, capturing your attention. Looking to your left, you spotted a young, scrawny looking man shyly scurrying away with a camera phone in hand. What photo did he take? A part of you longed to know, however the other greater part did not seem to care, for you truly were not in the shape to mind at all.

Getting in to the vehicle, memories that still seemed fresh revisited you. That first conversation, getting your hand treated, accidentally having your poor heart stirred. Leaning against the passenger seat, a luxurious sense of comfort brought out another yawn from you.

“I gotta say…” Bruce began, starting the engine, “The vest, I really did not see that coming”

“Hmmmm” you hummed, occupied in the comfort with your eyes closed. “But really, that was very clever of Alfr-”

His words were faint, growing even softer. For you were a willing victim to the exhaustion , which was effortlessly brought out by the comfort of an expensive leather car seat.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Erik Henderson was impatient, and it certainly showed. With his silk robes moving around, he paced from one corner of his bedroom to the other with speed. For along with impatience came disappointment.

“Is the girl here yet?? Where the fuck are they?”

He snarled loudly, when he sat on one of armchair. As for the Bruiser, he was promised the deed would be done tonight, with the result presented tomorrow morning. But until then, it did not hurt for him to engage in some early celebrations. Preferably with the company of his usual lineup of high end call girls. However, they were late.

Along with his ill temper and lack of appreciation to his wife, infidelity was high on the list. And tonight, his body was ready with much enthusiasm. He was ready to feel like a man. Ready to indulge in the sight of the women pleasure one another, only to pleasure him soon after. Still, they were late.

“Apologies! Mr. Henderson”

His eyes to shot up by the sound of a brunette woman. She stood by entrance of his room wearing a trench and beige heels, her full lips and big eyes growing distinctive as she began to walk towards him. Henderson raised his eyebrows:

“Wait a minute!” He said, as she approached him, “You’re not the girl I asked for ...” he said, rising from the chair angrily, “Why aren’t you answering me, you bitc-ARGH!”

Henderson cried out loud, when he realized the woman grabbed him by the arm, only to twist it effortlessly, switching to grip his neck tightly before she stabbed his stomach with a small knife. With his defenses weakened and knife still in stomach, he was lowered back to his chair. However, her hand did not leave his neck.

“Wh-” Henderson began breathlessly, “Who the fuck are you?” He inquired.

“Perhaps this...might jog your memory” the woman said, as she proceeded to wear a black mask, that shaped like a skull. Eyes widened, Henderson just could not fathom what he just witnessed.

“Alpha!?” He breathed. “Indeed, I am…” Clara replied, now in that familiar robotic voice. “You’re…” he stuttered, “…you’re a wo-”

“Ugh!” She shook her head,“Save me the sexist bullshit” she added annoyingly, whilst taking off the mask,“Looks like you were never gonna pay for our services, huh?” She inquired, “And I bet ...” she said, her free hand going through his chair while the knife was still intact, “….you have an alarm for the police to show up, hmmm?” She raised her eyebrows, finally discovering his mobile phone, “Heh! Just what I thought...” She remarked with a chuckle. So the Bruiser was right all along.

Speechless and injured, Henderson only could hyperventilate weakly. Clara smiled at him coldly. Funny how the tables have been turned. Funny how the man once was powerful now reeked of sheer desperation.

“I knew You’ve always been bad, Mr.Henderson” she began, “…but THIS? This disrespect? is just unforgivable. So…here’s what we’re gonna do…” She added, menace evident in her tone while she twisted the knife harder into his stomach, that sent him screaming, “You and I…we are gonna take a little trip… out of Gotham”

Fear translated in to Henderson’s quivering lips, “For-For h-how long?”

“Oh….” Ready to show her true colors, Clara Bennett flashed an evil grin, “…indefinitely”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The blue hour greeted your fluttering eyes gently the next morning. Stretching lazily, you felt your presence on a bed. It seemed the car seat was full of comfort it sent you to the deepest slumber. The blue hour appeared more graceful at the Wayne Penthouse. It was indeed quite the beauty. But the beauty was intensified the moment your eyes glimpsed upon the man laying beside you.The man who gazed long enough for you to smile shyly.

“I dozed off last night huh?” You inquired, your tone rife with sleepiness.

He nodded gently. Pressing your face against the pillow, embarrassment took control. The thought of Bruce Wayne carrying your sleeping figure all the way to bed was more than you could imagine. What if you snored? What if you drooled? Oh! The horror!

“I’m sorry...” you mumbled, looking at him. However, he shook his head.

“Don’t need to...” he replied, his breathy tone sending shivers down your spine. You raised your eyebrows: “Shouldn’t you should be sleeping?” you inquired playfully, whilst laying on your side.

“Don’t want to...” He said, moving closer to you.

His tone may have been gentle, yet it did not mean he was not confident about it. And the moment you felt his lips press against yours, that confidence suddenly had more reason. Kissing him back, you indulged it as you would indulge your morning coffee. Even better. His kiss at dawn was a gentle fire, that was lit to spread warmth around a once cold and lifeless room, to give it the life it once had. His kiss was also a reminder of what you needed. A need that was urgent. Pulling away gently, you glanced upon the surprised expression in his face. You could empathize why, and you were surely were not planning to disappoint.

Maintaining his gaze, you dipped your hands under the white sheets, stripping yourself off your sweatpants and underwear as fast as you could. He was certainly fascinated as you tossed the sheet aside, only to slowly straddle him, wearing nothing but the gray hoodie. A faint gasp left you when your naked mound made subtle contact with his shorts. It caused friction. More importantly, it caused sheer arousal that stimulated the entirety of your senses. Seeing him so calm beneath you, it certainly was a pleasurable sight. Balancing yourself over the mattress with one hand, you were surprised at how you managed to pull down his shorts with ease, receiving his full cooperation to remove it completely. You were calm, yet daring this morning.

The sight of Bruce draw in his shaky breath as you slowly sank into his abundantly erect manhood caused weakness in your knees. However, you had to be strong. Your damp opening welcomed him whole, as you finally sat with comfort. Finally becoming one, you stretched yourself, pulling your hoodie off, leaving you completely bare. With your hands resting on his bare chest, you permitted the gentle blue morning filter wash over you when you began to roll your hips in slow rhythm. For you were a lazy rider, mounted on a horse who took you home with relaxation. For you were both relaxed, for you were both calm. This morning, it need not be a passionate race that needed a speedy finish. It was merely just two lovers on a slow journey, intimate and brimming with emotion.

Amidst the breathy moans exchanged between the two, Your eyes conversed with his. You told him how indebted you were to him in every way. You stressed how you wished every second with him was longer than the others. You apologized for every single moment you hurt him without your knowledge. He acknowledged them all, surprising you as he sat up in a flash. Wrapping his arms around your waist, his fingers explored your bare back, feeling its curves before he proceeded to envelope his lips in yours in a slow, yet passion inducing kiss. He kissed you with a mission. As if he longed to fulfill your wish, as if he was on a fierce attempt to slow down time. The manner his tongue embraced your own, certainly was a display of how this pleasure was to be indulged in the slowest, possible manner.

And it certainly meant taking one’s sweet time.

Distracted with his kisses, you were even unaware of his right hand roaming over to cup your left breast. In the midst of the morning chill, he warmed it with his generous palm, his thumb gently running over the now erect bud. The fact he savored this act slow, roused you even further. Shivering moans exited your lips the moment his delicious mouth replaced his thumb, latching on to it. The manner of which he suckled it, the manner he tasted it with passion, provided a new form of life within you. Kissing his head frantically, you continued to moan. You adored this man, you could not deny it. In fact, you could burst into tears by the thought of it. With his lips now placing gracious kisses around the softness of your breast, sparks of fire began to spread. Your fingers traced over the strangle marks on his neck, causing your lips to quiver with emotion.

Kissing his neck with determination, you hoped you would not inflict more pain upon him ever again. He heard your hopes, as his own lips frantically looked for yours to kiss you once again. Surprise was clearly the main role this morning. Your eyes widened the moment he quickly turned, flipping you back to bed, hovering over you.

Holding on the headboard, Bruce continued to move inside of you, frustratingly slow. His soft breathy moans blessed your ears, while his finger felt your sensitive nub at your opening, providing ample stimulation to throw your head back and feel the headboard behind you. He breathed in your name religiously, urging you to look at him. He spoke to you in hushed tones. He swore to protect you always, no matter what may come his way. He swore with such passion and desperation.

You believed him, with all your heart you longed to. However, you were also realistic. This was all on the brink of passion. For truthfully, Life never was always kind to everyone who walked this earth. Exceptions would always exist, even where he could not show up. And you did not take them to heart. Not one bit. For you knew better. As he buried his face on your neck, adorning it with kisses, that was when you decided, deep in your heart, to make your own promise.

Blinded by passion or not, you swore. Your swore to be at your best, and keep yourself safe. And whatever trouble may announce its arrival, he would never blamed for it. Never ever. For he was no god. He was only a man. And he was yours.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hues of yellow infused with the blue as the sunlight secretly crept into the penthouse. It brought more color. But nothing could replace the magic of the blue hour, and you were grateful to have made great use of it this morning. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you slowly put the pants back on, whilst the gentle yellow light grazed over your naked torso. Bruce’s hand stroked your shoulder blades, surprising you even further when you felt his blessed lips on the lower back. Biting your lip shyly, you proceeded to dress yourself with the gray hoodie once more. But in fact, butterflies still managed to flutter within you. If only words existed for you to describe the effect this man had on you, they would be used fervently. But since there were none, you knew you would fail to do him justice. The value you held for him was beyond all measure. And that was why you were reminded of what you longed to tell him before:

“Bruce?”

“Hmmm?”

Lazy hums escaped Bruce when you turned to his reclined figure in bed. Sitting crossed legged, nervousness washed all over. You wished for a distraction. You wished to remain in his arms a bit longer. But this was mandatory, thus a deep breath was a necessity:

“I got a job offer...from Hudson’s”

You said. Surprised, Bruce slowly sat up.

“The HR company?”

To which you nodded slowly, “Yeah…And I think…” you paused, “I think I’m gonna take it”

You watched him slowly process the information he just received. It was evident with his concerned expression. “You’re… leaving Wayne Enterprises?”

He breathed in inquiry. You froze. For that sentence simply forced your heart to clench tightly. And the fact those words exited his lips in an innocent manner, made it truly worse. Nostalgia hit you violently in the head. After an entire decade of devoting one’s life to this company, it would seem unthinkable. Yet, decisions such as these were not for the faint hearted. And you certainly were not one.

“Yes I am…” you admitted, “But not right away…” you quickly added, moving closer to him, “…I still have a lot to do, like cover for Lillian during her leave, and If I am leaving, I’m gonna have to train whoever will be taking my place…I just…” you paused, “I just wanted to let you know…before I accept it”

Your clenched heart remained so, as silence filled the room. His doe-eyed expression was clear as day, taking in the news: “So…” he began, staring at you, “…It’s finally happening, huh?” He muttered.

Exhaling deep, you smiled softly: “I’ve been holding onto this company for so long cause of loyalty...that I didn’t even think of my own career…” you said, “But…after I met you, everything is starting to make sense, everything I need to do is coming to me” you continued, “So, If I leave… I can finally do what I’m really good at”

There was no mirror, yet you could feel your own eyes sparkle with excitement by the mere thought of it. You could imagine it already, walking over to Lucius Fox, handing in your notice of resignation. And you could certainly imagine his response as he would smile with a nod: “I understand” He would say, with a silent exchange of understanding for it was clear you were doing the right thing. You could imagine it all. Blinking that future away, you looked at Bruce:

“And if I leave…” you said, “I don’t have to question my liberties anymore, especially when I think about us...” you paused, breathing deeply, “If that’s what you really want. Cause…” you added as you bravely cupped his face, “…that’s what I want”

When silence overpowered the atmosphere, you grew concerned. But before you could make your way down that path, Bruce expressed his opinion by leaning forward with a loving kiss. A loving kiss that encompassed everything: His acknowledgement, his excitement, and even a taste of sadness.

“Well...” he breathed into your lips, “As much as I’m going to miss seeing you at office-” You chuckled, “You rarely get to see me unless you come by-” Chuckling back, he nodded, “Point made”. Concerned, you looked directly at him. “You upset?” You inquired, to which he immediately shook his head. “Actually…” he smiled, “I’m proud of you. The way you truly want to go far for what you really need, you inspire me. You give me hope” he added, “And yes! I do want this” holding both of your hands, he stressed, “So it’s definitely worth it” You gulped, as you realized that your heart had more to reveal that expected. Especially when you saw him show this much of enthusiasm. With a heartbeat strong enough to penetrate through your entire being, you began: “Bruce…” you paused, “That day when you bailed me out, I got a Life Sentence”

Suddenly, that smile of his disappeared with concern. To which you could only smile wider with amusement.

“I got a Life Sentence, because you stole my heart” you added, “And that’s a Sentence I was willing to take on. That’s a Sentence I could never get over.” You said, “I know, there will be a day…where you and I can walk hand in hand in public, with nothing to fear. We won’t have to worry about our reputation or our safety. I know that day will come soon” you continued, hope filled in your tone, “ But until then, I’m willing to do anything. I’m willing to be quiet, I’m willing to pretend, I’m willing to let the whole world believe I’m minding my own business, when I’m actually happily minding my own business…with you” holding his hands tightly, you spoke with adoration, “Cause given the current circumstances, I am not gonna give a shit about what everyone is gonna think, or about showing off. I just wanna be happy. And being by your side is one important factor of it. That’s it…” you took a deeper breath, “I love you, Bruce” you spoke in an emotional tone, “And the more time passes, I think I find it harder to deny that…”

Letting it all out, never did anything feel this taxing on you. Especially as you kept looking into his beautiful eyes that were a journey in itself to embark on.

“I wish you know…” Bruce began, “…how it frightens me to make promises” he said softly. The pain in his voice was evident. The pain he seemingly had held in all these years. You nodded fast.

“I know, i know…” you admitted in honesty, “Being in your…position, I don’t blame you. Not one bit. You don’t have to say anything, Bruce” you said for you truly meant it.

“But…” he began, holding your hands once more, “You will know in time...you will know how much I love you. Cause I do”

Jaw dropped, suddenly your clenched heart loosened up completely. His face formed a puzzled expression. “What?” “You just said it...” You said, chuckling when he finally came to the realization of what he just admitted. Euphoria, rushed though you as you covered your mouth with emotion. For ever since the day you fell for him, those words were what you always dreamed of hearing.

“Wow! You love me...” you voice broke, as tears formed within you, “…you do love m-” mumbled last words did not seem to matter when Bruce pulled you in for another gentle kiss. He loved you. Bruce Wayne he loved you. Unfathomable yet real. Immersed in his arms in an embrace, you rubbed his back with love.

“Don’t worry…” you assured, “I know what I’m getting into. And I’ll be here…” you paused, “…for a while. Okay…maybe even longer than that” you jested, as he began to laugh out loud. The sight of his laughter was what you cherished. And what you hoped to provide for him as long as you could.

You fixed your hair hurried upon seeing Alfred Pennyworth enter the room with morning tea. The fact he found you in bed with Bruce made you embarrassed.

“Sorry Alfred...” you muttered shyly. Alfred however, never looked this pleased. “Never apologize for putting a smile on Master Wayne’s face, Miss” He said, as he placed the tray on the bedside cupboard “And mine...”

A trickle of warmth engulfed your heart, to the point you felt your nose itch with the urge to cry once again. Scrunching up your nose, you smiled. Blessed it was truly to be this loved.

“Apparently,Henderson is missing”

“WHAT?” You and Bruce both inquired, looking at Alfred.

“That’s what it says in the papers” He responded, waving the newspaper in his hand.

Was it Clara’s doing? Was it her way of acquiring revenge? You could not help but wonder as Alfred began to read the mentioned article to Bruce. And then again, how ironic. Erik Henderson strongly wished for you to disappear, yet ended up disappearing himself.

The bedside cupboard beside you vibrated. Taking the phone, you found a text from Allison:

lol…did you see this?

Below the text was a link attached. A link that directed you to an article at a familiar website: wheresdabat.com

Your eyes widened by the sight of the photo that was above the article. A photo that showed you standing outside the Police Station with Bruce from last night. The article was written as the following:

Just when we were filled with hope of a possible spark between Batman and the Bruiser, we run into another hurdle. For here we can see the Bruiser’s employer, Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne arrived to her legal rescue once again last night. What could it be? A Love Triangle perhaps? Or are we just kidding ourselves completely??

Amused laughter erupted from your throat, causing Bruce and Alfred to look at you.

“Everything okay?” Bruce inquired.

“Yeah, its just...” you smiled, “It looks like the name Bruiser is gonna stick around for a while” you said, showing them the website article.

“Well…” Bruce began, “… it does have a ring to it” he added with a smile.

“You know what?” You looked at them, “ I like it” You chuckled, “ I used to hate that name, so so much. But not anymore. Guess it’s my own alias now.” you said jokingly.

It was evident it would be a scar you would have to wear for a while. But in truth, it was a scar you would gladly wear. For that scar, it bailed you out, it brought you the liberation you desired, and it led you to love. Thus, you were not remorseful at all. No wonder you like it so.

Excitement bubbling within you in great speed, you began to form a text reply to your friend:

Fuck!

You sent in an instant.

FUCK!!!

It certainly did not take long for Allison to respond: 

Oh no ...what is it, Sweetie? I’m sorry but I thought it was just hilarious...

Chuckling, you texted back:

No it’s not that. Ali, I think...

Over excitement led to accidentally hitting ‘send’ before you could finish typing.

What ? What is it? You’re freaking me out here…

Smiling upon seeing Allison’s reply, you looked up. Never did you imagine the sight of Bruce and Alfred causally having their morning tea would bring you such joy. With your smile still intact, you replied with the most happiness and the utmost confidence:  

I think it’s officially official with me and Bruce Wayne!!! 

——————THE END—————————

Another Author’s Note: Thank You for all you lovely people who decided to join me in this journey on Bail Out! When I took a break and started planning this story, I never thought I would receive this much love. Truthfully this is one of the favorites I have written and with the most effort and hard work. So your love meant so so much! My heart is literally heavy now. You are all awesome! Love you all! Keep being awesome!

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years ago

Text

When the World is Free Chapter 2: From My Sinking Sand to Your Solid Ground

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

The first thing Claire was aware of was the pounding of her head.

She groaned loudly, and even that sound made her head split. She roughly rubbed her eyes and tried to open them, then chickened out when the sunlight sent a knife between her eyes.

The second thing she was aware of was that she was stark naked.

Oh, fuck.

That was enough to shake her from her stupor. She sat straight up and searched the room blearily, but John was nowhere to be seen.

Thank God.

She didn’t think she could bear to do a walk of shame in her own bedroom.

She’d thought perhaps it had been a wild, alcohol induced dream. But apparently she really had stripped herself and her homosexual husband naked and ridden him into oblivion. And then cried herself to sleep on top of him.

Jesus fucking Christ.

She pulled a robe out of the wardrobe and wound it tightly around herself, not bothering to dress since she most definitely needed a shower anyway. She emerged from the bedroom, already cringing. The smell of coffee wafted into her consciousness, and it was enough to draw her from the doorway and into the kitchen.

John was sitting at the table with his own cup, staring blankly at the wall in front of him until the pitter patter of Claire’s bare feet caught his attention.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice clipped.

Christ, he could barely look at her.

“The pot should still be hot.”

Claire forced a tight-lipped smile as she shuffled over to the pot of coffee and poured herself a mug. “Thank you.”

He hummed awkwardly in response. Claire sat down slowly with her cup, cringing at the sound of the chair scraping against the floor.

“That bad, is it?”

Claire groaned and rubbed between her eyes, carefully setting the hot mug down in front of her. “Indeed.”

They sat in uncomfortable silence for several agonizing moments, each quietly sipping their coffee.

“Claire, I want — ”

“John, I should — ”

They both snapped their mouths shut, then began stammering apologies over one another.

“I’d…like to go first. If that’s alright,” Claire said uneasily. John nodded, and she cleared her throat, setting her coffee down again.

“What happened last night…it was unforgivable. Me, I mean,” she added quickly. “That was despicable of me. To use your love for him against you like that.”

She felt her face flush hot with shame, and John averted his eyes, a blush creeping into his own face as well.

“I’m a nurse. I know that…arousal doesn’t always mean you…want to…go further.” She swallowed against a rush of tears. “I took advantage of you. I’m…so ashamed, John. I’m so sorry.”

John put his hand up. “It’s alright, Claire.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“If I’d wanted to stop you I could have.”

She stiffened in shock, her hooded eyes widening for a moment.

“I feel I took advantage of you as well, my dear. You were…quite insistent. But I should have stopped you.”

“John — ”

“So I am sorry. Truly and deeply.” His voice sounded pained, and he looked like he was about to cry.

She knew deep down she did not deserve to be apologized to, but to spare him any further pain, she acquiesced. “It’s alright.”

“I used your body for comfort just as much as you used mine. I admit it makes…far less sense to me than it must for you…but use you I did.”

Claire nodded. “I agree. We…used one another. In a way we shouldn’t have.”

John nodded as well. “I think we should…make an agreement while neither of us are inebriated. Something that we can refer to when one or both of us is in too much pain to stop ourselves.”

“I agree.” Claire straightened and took a deep breath. “I can’t believe I have to say this to a homosexual housemate…” Claire tried her hand at humor, and immediately regretted it before continuing. “But I don’t think we should have any more sex. At all.”

“Agreed. And we must not…” He cleared his throat and sniffled. “We must not use Jamie to hurt one another.”

“Never again,” Claire vowed solemnly, reaching across the table and taking his hand. “I promise.”

“I promise, too.”

They gave each other’s hands a squeeze, but were both reluctant to let go.

“What happened…was not right. I shall probably feel guilty until the end of time,” Claire said. “But I think it was just…something we needed to get out of our systems.” John nodded in agreement. “And I think we can move past this, together,” Claire continued. “For Jamie’s sake.”

He nodded again, and gave her hand another squeeze. “And for the baby.”

Claire’s stomach flipped, and her free hand automatically came to rest on her abdomen. “Yes,” she said, and then swallowed thickly. “For the baby.”

He gave her hand one final squeeze before releasing her and standing up. She quickly swiped at the tears that spilled down her cheeks.

“I’m going to make some porridge, it may help with your headache.”

“I’d like that, thank you.”

——

They began a careful dance, a dance with no choreographed steps, but rather an improvised routine that they both fell into. Sidestepping where they needed, pushing and pulling to avoid stepping on each other’s toes in every sense of the word. At first, they stayed as far away from each other as possible in bed, to the point where Claire thought they would both tumble off if one of them so much as sneezed. She’d even considered pawning off the double bed and using the money to buy twin beds. Maybe then she’d be less tempted to ravage him in grief again.

But then, one night, she woke in the night to use the loo, as she’d started doing about a million times per night to empty her pregnant bladder. When she returned, she heard quiet sniffles and small whimpers.

The poor, dear man was weeping.

She crept back under the covers and faced him, his back turned to her. She couldn't tell if he was awake or not, so she reached out and touched his shoulder.

“John?”

He froze. He was awake then.

“Are you alright, darling?”

He continued sniffling, but the little sobs ceased.

“You can talk to me. It’s…what I’m here for. As your wife.”

Claire knew that her time to be married to the love of her life had come and gone. Love as fierce as her and Jamie’s was not meant to last for a whole lifetime, and she was lucky enough to have experienced it at all. Her time had come now to be something else for someone new. Though their marriage was devoid of carnal love and pleasure, she could not deny the growing tenderness for this sweet, thoughtful man.

She whispered his name again and gave his shoulder a light squeeze, and he finally turned to face her. In the glowing moonlight, she could see the tear tracks, the redness of his swollen eyes. Her hand fell on the pillow next to his face, and she waited.

“I…I dreamt of him.”

Claire swore she heard her heart break.

“It was…very real. And when I woke it was like…”

“Like losing him all over again,” Claire whispered hoarsely, understanding immediately. She’d had many a similar dream.

John nodded, blinking back another rush of tears.

“I wasn’t even…we weren’t even…”

Claire nodded; he didn’t have to elaborate.

“He was with you,” John said. “And I didn't even care. Seeing him smile at you was the greatest joy my heart has ever known. I didn’t even care if that…that look was never meant to be mine. I just…wanted him to be happy.”

Claire let out a tiny sob that seemed to echo until she realized it was John breaking down again.

“I wanted to see him grow old and have children…he wanted to so badly…”

Claire fiercely pulled herself right up against him, cradling his head at her breast and weeping into his hair as he clung desperately to her nightgown.

That was the first night Claire was grateful she shared a bed with someone; sharing a bed meaning something different than she’d ever imagined it could. She’d mused recently that to sleep, actually sleep with someone gave a sense of intimacy, as though her dreams could flow out of her to mingle with his and fold them both in a blanket of unconscious knowing. It was an act of trust to sleep in the presence of another person. If the trust was mutual, simple sleep could bring people closer together than the joining of bodies. She could somehow feel this with John, that just allowing her body to fall away into unconsciousness as he did the same, that building that mutual trust between them in this new way was bringing them closer. Especially since their particular joining of bodies had been the farthest thing from bringing them closer.

Some nights she woke to his weeping, or he to hers. They’d grown accustomed to just reaching for the other’s hand, and they would fall back asleep with several inches between their bodies and their hands clasped between them.

It was a comfort that Claire was quickly growing to depend on.

About a week after they'd been married, John took a job as an architect, the career path he'd been preparing for before the war. While he was gone, Claire taught herself to cook, failing miserably more often than not and serving her husband failed dish after failed dish. She went on walks, she read, she picked herbs and flowers in the park, she tended to a small pot of herbs that John had surprised her with in the window of the kitchen one day. She was a terrible cook, but at least her garlic, chamomile, and peppermint were thriving.

The peppermint quite came in handy when the morning sickness started in earnest. John was quite darling about the whole ordeal, never entering the bathroom until he could audibly tell that she’d stopped retching, but he was already prepared with a hot rag and a glass of water, peppermint tea brewing and nearly ready for her consumption.

It wasn’t right away that Claire began missing him during the day, not right away at all. In the beginning she’d enjoyed the alone time with her plants and any strays she decided to pluck from the side of the road or the middle of a field. She enjoyed the time alone to scream into a pillow and weep until her heart could no longer stand it. She enjoyed the time where she held onto Jamie’s old rosary and talked to him like he could hear her.

But the more weeks that passed, the more Claire realized that she’d grown fond enough of John’s presence to feel his absence when he was gone.

It wasn’t that she was never fond of him to begin with. The times she’d visited Jamie during the war and had drinks with John and laughed with him were truly wonderful. She’d always admired his intelligence, his wit, always respected him and appreciated everything he’d done for the man she loved.

But things had somehow changed in that she was truly beginning to see him as a companion. She was truly starting to feel lonely in the hours that he worked, truly starting to look forward to his return home like she supposed a wife should for her husband.

Claire had always sworn that she would not leave her entire life’s purpose to being a wife, even a wife to Jamie. She’d shared her far-off dream of medical school with Jamie, and he’d kissed her with joy for her eventual success; the memory caused deep pangs of sadness in her chest. So for her to find meaning in looking forward to her husband coming home, however amicable a companion he was, could have felt like a betrayal to her very character.

It didn’t, though.

It was an odd comfort, relying on John, and she supposed he felt the same. They read by the fire in their respective armchairs at night, John occasionally remarking on a particular passage to her. In the beginning, she’d only hum in amusement in response, but as more time went on, she allowed it to open discussion, and she’d even started doing it with her own books, engaging him like that.

After reading, they’d strip themselves of their guises of husband and wife. The only visible remnants of their marriage were shared smiles over books or meals (or lack thereof) or flowerpots. Without those, they were just John and Claire, frightened and lonely as they’d always been, hands entwined under the covers in the wide gap between them.

He actually brought home flowers on occasion, on two or three random days throughout the month. Claire found it incredibly endearing. He strode into the bedroom to change out of his work clothes for supper one night as Claire arranged bluebells in a vase, and she allowed perhaps the first genuine smile in months.

He’s trying, God love him.

Claire kissed him on the cheek as she put his plate in front of him that night at supper, and he kissed hers in bed before rolling away and reinstating the gap between them.

Always touching hands.

——

Before she knew it, Claire’s clothing wasn’t fitting anymore, her stomach finally showing true evidence of the life it grew after months of hiding.

And then she felt it, like a bubbly champagne stuck in her chest, like the flutter of butterflies.

Hello, little one.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Claire said that night over supper. She’d managed a fine beef stew that night, impressing both John and herself. “I don’t want to have the baby in the hospital.”

John comically appeared to choke on his stew. “Beg pardon?”

“Women do do it. Home births, I mean. I had a friend in the army who delivered babies at people’s homes.”

“Isn’t it…” He swallowed a lump of soft carrots. “Painful?”

Claire chuckled. “Well, certainly. But I’d…rather be awake. I can’t stand what they’re doing these days, putting the mothers under with God knows what. I wouldn’t be able to stand it, not knowing what was happening to me for the entire birth. If something were to happen, I would want to be awake.”

“But what if something were to happen?” John said, laying down his spoon.

“If something truly dire were to happen, the hospital isn’t far.”

“God, Claire! What if you died on the way there?”

“Please.” Claire rolled her eyes. “If I was at high risk, I’d go to the hospital from the beginning. Alright? But I truly think everything will be alright. I’d like to have a midwife start coming to make sure of that.”

“What about your friend?”

“Oh, she lives in Glasgow.”

He took up his spoon again, then got a gleam in his eye. “What if I could put her up here, in London?”

Claire put down her own spoon, the corners of her mouth twitching into a grin. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he said, as if it were the most simple matter in the world. “I can see you’re not to be argued with on this matter, and I’d rather have the woman in charge of your health and the health of our child be someone you already trust. She’s capable?”

Claire’s mind had momentarily gone blank at his casual utterance.

Our child.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

Claire jolted a bit, shaking her head. “Yes, yes, just a small dizzy spell…” She cleared her throat. “Geillis is quite capable, I assure you. You won’t find someone more so. And it’s as I said: if she thinks it unsafe for me to not have medical intervention, then I will not argue. I promise.”

John nodded curtly, smiling widely. “Then it’s settled. Phone her tomorrow, won’t you?”

Claire took up her spoon again. “I will.”

Our child.

“What’s brought all this on?” John said, spooning more stew into his mouth.

Claire smiled wistfully, her hand resting on the tiny bump. “I felt him today.”

He almost choked again.

“You did?”

“Yes. It’s…too tiny to feel from the outside, otherwise I’d have shown you already. But he’s…he’s fluttering around in there.” She smiled down at her stomach. “It’s…wonderful.”

“That is…wonderful news, my dear,” John said, his eyes bright with joy. “I’m glad of it.”

Claire allowed a few moments of amicable silence to pass between them, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“Did you…mean it when you said…our child?”

For the third time in one meal, Claire thought she had caused her husband to choke.

“God, Claire, I’m…I’m so, very sorry. I didn’t mean…I couldn’t ever…”

“It’s alright,” Claire interrupted gently. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s Jamie’s child. I know that.”

“I know. And I know you know that.” She held his gaze, and she could tell he very much wanted to melt into the floor with shame. “I can’t lie and say it didn’t catch me off guard. Because it did. But it’s…not a bad thing.”

She drew in a long, tremulous breath before continuing.

“Jamie is gone. The father of my child is dead.” Her voice only broke on the last word, and she sardonically congratulated herself in her head. “You are…for all intents and purposes…this baby’s father. And I…I want it to be that way. For the baby. It’s…what Jamie would want.”

John nodded, eyes watering.

“So it’s…it’s alright for you to call him…ours. Because he is.” She covered the small bump with both of her hands, cradling it as if her little child could feel it. “That was just…the first time you’ve said that instead of just ‘the baby.’ So I wanted to be sure you meant it. Or if it was just a slip.”

He looked at her thoughtfully, and she could swear she saw his pupils dilate. “I did mean it, my dear. I wouldn’t say something with that much weight so carelessly.”

Claire nodded, offering him a tight-lipped smile. “Good.”

Their spoons clattered in the thick silence between them.

“Him?” John suddenly said.

“Hm?” Claire looked up at him.

“You keep saying ‘him.’ That sure it’s a boy?”

Claire smiled and chuckled through her nose. “I just…have a feeling, that’s all. A feeling that I’m carrying my little Brian James.”

She could practically see his heart swelling, inflating his chest and causing him to sit up straighter. “For Jamie’s father.”

“That’s right. And for his father as well.”

“It’s…perfect, Claire.” He nodded in confirmation, his eyes wide with something that Claire could only describe as adoration. “Perfect for our son.”

——

John put Geillis up in a flat a few blocks away so that they could walk back and forth to each other with relative ease. Geillis determined that the baby was in excellent shape, and that Claire was a great candidate for a natural birth. Geillis was a bit flighty and slightly mysterious, but that was what Claire had loved about her when they met. She was very reliant on herbs and incense. Claire could tell that her witchy tendencies unnerved John quite a bit, and it often made her giggle to see him uncomfortable in her presence. He didn’t say anything, though, out of respect for Claire’s love for the woman.

Geillis was slightly better in the kitchen than Claire was, so she’d been sharing recipes (much to John’s chagrin; he didn’t trust that there wasn’t something supernatural in anything she fed them). They baked together in either of their flats when John was at work, went on walks together, enjoyed each other’s company. It was refreshing to have female company, and wonderful to have someone to spend time with when she would have otherwise been counting down the minutes until John’s return from work.

Two months after Geillis’s arrival as midwife and friend, Claire was nearly six months pregnant. She was starting to feel exhausted more often than not. She napped quite often, even in Geillis’s flat. Her feet and ankles were constantly sore and swollen, and John had taken to rubbing them for her, having asked her how to do it most to her liking. It was terribly endearing to her.

Claire left Geillis’s flat earlier than usual on one particular day, not wanting to fall dead asleep on her sofa again. She stopped for a few groceries on the way home, not sure if she had enough to prepare the recipe she’d decided on for the night. When she arrived home, she was pleasantly surprised to see John’s shoes and coat by the front door. She didn’t see him in the living room or in the kitchen when she put the brown paper bag down on the counter, so she shuffled into the bedroom to make sure he wasn’t home early because he was ill.

“John, darling, is everything — ”

Claire’s throat went dry and her eyes popped out of her head when she took in the sight on the bed. John was stark naked, cock in his fist, jerking his hips into his hand. He froze immediately at the sound of her voice, covering himself with both hands.

“Oh.” Her cheeks turned pink as she averted her eyes staring at a leaf fluttering by the window. “I’m…I’m sorry…” she stammered. “I saw your coat, and I thought…I’m sorry.”

“I’m…ashamed. Forgive me. I didn’t know you’d be home.”

“No, no. Please don’t be,” Claire said quickly. “It’s…perfectly natural.”

Claire had been very clear with John before they married that she would be perfectly alright with him taking male lovers. She knew she could never provide what he really needed, and she knew this marriage was not for love. He’d thanked her and said he would keep it in mind.

It would appear there hadn’t been any forward momentum on that front.

Claire had no conceivable idea why she was still standing in the doorway staring at the window. “I’ll ehm, just…” She cleared her throat and started to shuffle away, but then stopped herself. “Do you…” she began, only half turning to him. “Want help?”

She looked shyly at him, pointedly only looking at his face. He was beet red with embarrassment, and now looked terribly scandalized.

“The…agreement?” he said, his brow raised in questioning.

“I know. But we’re both sober at the moment, and it wouldn’t really be sex. I…I wouldn’t mind.” She flicked her eyes away from him and wet her lips. “But only if it’ll help. I know I’m not…you know.”

She saw him nod from the corner of her eye. “You, ehm, needn’t trouble yourself.”

“Alright. That’s alright.” Claire nodded curtly and then saw herself out of the bedroom, scuttling back into the kitchen to unpack her groceries.

She did not expect the strange thrill that coursed through her when she heard her name.

Her breathing went ragged as she put down a cabbage on the counter and walked slowly back to the bedroom.

“Did you…call me?” she asked timidly through the crack in the door.

“Yes…you can come in.”

She slowly pushed the door open, taking deep, trembling breaths.

“I’d…like your help. If you don’t mind.”

She blinked back her shock and swallowed against a sandpaper throat before taking slow, even steps across the room and sitting down before him.

He was not as well endowed as Jamie, but it was sizable nonetheless, and had still felt good in that drunken stupor all those months ago. She met his eye and cautiously brought her hand forward. He gave a small groan when her hand wrapped around the base of him. He was burning to the touch, and it fascinated her. She maintained eye contact as she slowly began pumping him, up and down, and he groaned again.

“Is this alright?” she whispered, rolling her thumb over the tip.

“Yes,” he choked out. “Quite…alright.”

Claire smirked and began pumping faster, but not maddeningly so. Not yet.

She had half a mind to ask him what he’d been thinking of before she’d interrupted, but she didn’t need to. She knew.

And she knew how painfully terrible it was to long for the ghost of someone’s touch.

So she didn’t pry, she just worked her hands as expertly as she knew how, until he was panting heavily and jerking his hips up toward her hand. Only then did she double down on the speed, her forearm burning with the effort. He came with a strangled cry, shooting his seed upward, landing on his stomach.

She slowed her hand until she felt him go soft, and then she rested her hand on his thigh, smiling shyly at him. He was laying back, staring at the ceiling as he caught his breath. Claire got up and returned from the bathroom with a towel, and by that time he had seemingly regained his senses.

“Thank you,” he said warmly as he took the towel in his hands, but Claire felt that he was perhaps thanking her for more than just the towel.

“It’s alright, isn’t it?” she said nervously, sitting down. “You don’t feel as if we’ve broken the agreement?”

“No, not at all.” He got up and dressed himself again, though he remained shirtless when he turned back to her. “You were just…helping me finish a job I’d already started.”

Claire nodded, smiling self-consciously, her cheeks blushing fiercely. “Right.”

“You don’t have to blush, my dear.” He closed the distance between them and sweetly kissed her forehead. “You’re my wife after all.”

She nodded again, painfully aware of the heat that had gathered in her stomach and farther down.

“You’re quite warm,” he said, ghosting his fingertips over the apple of her cheeks. “Is it…because…?”

She nodded.

“Ah.” He sat down next to her. “I’m afraid I…wouldn’t be much help. Your knowledge of male pleasure far exceeds that of mine concerning female pleasure.”

“It’s alright,” Claire said gently, covering his hand with hers. “I don’t expect anything from you.”

He smiled gratefully at her, holding her gaze warmly.

Claire had no idea what prompted her to blurt: “You could watch me.”

His mouth popped open a bit, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

“Women can do it themselves too, you know.” She smirked, though she was still blushing fiercely. “I wouldn’t mind if you watched. It may…help.”

He swallowed again, drawing his hand away from hers.

“But you don’t want me to…”

“You don’t have to.” She pushed herself higher up onto the bed and unbuttoned her dress, then slid it over her head. She wasn’t sure how John would feel if she got completely naked, so she left her slip on. She reached under it to remove her underwear.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” she said, a warning. Before she really began.

“I…I do. Want to.”

She smiled at him and set her underwear aside, away from him. She let her legs fall apart and ghosted her fingers over the slick, wet folds.

“When a woman is aroused…” she said breathily, taking a stuttering breath as her fingers reached the source of her moisture. “Instead of a cockstand, she gets…wet.”

She withdrew her hand to show him, and he stared at the glistening wetness on her fingers with vulgar curiosity.

Smiling devilishly, she returned to her task, gathering more moisture and setting to work on her clitoris.

“I…aroused you?”

John’s voice brought her out of a haze of pleasure, and she met his gaze with hooded eyelids.

She heard what he left unsaid:

I did…not Jamie?

“You did, John,” she breathed out. “It makes me feel…very good to give a man pleasure.”

It was the truth, really. Jamie was, of course, the subject of her every thought, her every fantasy. In her moments alone, when Geillis was not around, it was thoughts of Jamie’s hands, Jamie’s tongue, Jamie’s cock that roused her to the point of no return. And it was those thoughts that had her weeping in grief after she’d climaxed. But this was different. For the first time, she wasn’t aroused by a fantasy, but rather by the sight of a real man coming right in front of her. By her hand. Did she think of her love in that same position? God, of course. Was she imagining his touch? Certainly. But seeing John, sweet, gentle John, in the throes of pleasure had flipped a switch in her fevered mind.

It was different.

John swallowed hard again in response to her words, and she redoubled her efforts on herself. She did not hold back, allowing her eyes to fall shut and for her desperate keening to get as loud as it would naturally get without restraint. She laid back, neck arching as she moaned loudly with ecstasy.

She picked her head back up when she felt she was close, and made deliberate eye contact with John as she slipped a finger in, still keeping her maddening pace on her clitoris. John’s lips parted and he swallowed again, and with the insertion of a second finger, curling them in and upwards, Claire let out a ragged gasp. Her hips jerked off the mattress, thrusting into nothingness as she continued her rapid assault of her clitoris, her fingers frozen inside her as her walls clenched around them. She let out a sweet sounding moan as her hand finally slowed, and she gradually lowered back onto the mattress, her head swimming and her back slick with sweat.

She kept her eyes closed as she came down from her high, her chest heaving. When she opened her eyes, John was still staring at her, his mouth hanging open. She was still breathing heavily, and she smiled up at him shyly.

“Do you, ehm…” He cleared his throat. “Do you feel better now?”

She nodded lazily, feeling her eyes slide shut again.

“I can finish with your groceries. You seem tired.”

She nodded, eyes still closed, and curled into the pillow, draping her arm over it lazily. She felt like an infant, drugged with sleep after breastfeeding, having satiated herself.

Consciousness was just beginning to slip away from her when she felt a blanket drape over her shoulders, and a gentle peck on her temple.

“Sleep well, my dear.”

#outlander #outlander au #outlander fanfiction #claire fraser #jamie fraser #john grey #lord john grey #john x jamie #john x claire #jjc #john x jamie x claire #throuple #ot3

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veinsandknuckles · 4 years ago

Text

Break the cutie, pt 1

Ruben Patterson/f!Reader (Shootfighter: Fight to the Death) Explicit Content warnings: bdsm, hair pulling (with the assumption that the reader has long enough hair to make that possible), rough, unsafe sex... everything’s consensual but the powerless position the reader ends up in (and enjoys) might be upsetting to some. lmk if I missed anything. It’s not very kinky yet, I’m planning to take my time with the descent. Thank you @kingkarate for beta reading, concrit-ing and encouraging this! I owe you one <3 On the surface, Ruben seems like the gentlest, kindest red-blooded man you could hope to date but you have a hunch there’s a playful, rough, slightly selfish side of him that you’re determined to draw out. Ruben is perfectly willing to let you open that door, but whether he’ll be able to shut it again is another story. (Basically, the gimmick is this: what if his road to ruin began with sex instead of violence?)

“Here we are.” You stepped lightly onto the veranda and turned to watch Ruben.

His eyes glittered under the porch light and he smiled up at you. “I really hope you had a good time tonight. I know I did.”

“Of course. You really know how to treat a lady.”

“Well, I do my best...”

This was the moment for him to kiss you goodnight or ask to come in. You’d had two dates already, you’d given him every encouragement but he hesitated. It wasn’t strange - his and Cheryl’s engagement had only ended a few months ago and she’d been his childhood sweetheart. Maybe most men in his position would’ve been on the rebound by now, but the more you got to know Ruben, the more you started to believe he really was as good as he seemed.

He stepped in close, shook his hair out of his eyes and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. Tonight, he didn’t pull away immediately, not even when you let your lips part and teased his tongue with yours. He let his hands rest on your hips and sighed into your mouth, then broke away with a shy little laugh , just as it was getting good.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t get carried away.”

“No, I... I kinda wish you would.”

“Right.” It didn’t look as if he believed you.

“I don’t want to scandalize you, Ruben, but I mean it. If you want to come in for a cup of coffee or something, all you have to do is ask.”

“On the second date?”

“It can be a literal cup of coffee, you know. Nothing has to happen.”

“Uh... yeah, alright.” He deliberated for a moment and then smiled. “As long as you’re sure.”

You laughed and fished out your keys. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Why? Not every man is a dog.”

As you led him into the house, turned on the lights and shrugged out of your coat, you couldn’t stop yourself from silently wishing he was wrong, at least in this instance. Could he really not see how gorgeous he was? Or did he believe all that bullshit about women not having a real sex drive? “I’m not so sure. You may very well be the only exception.”

“Oh shit, sorry to hear that.” The look on his face was completely sincere. “You must’ve dated some real jerks.”

“Hmm. Maybe. But making a move wouldn’t mean you’re one of them.” You took his hand and led him into the sitting room, then ducked into the kitchen and brought back a bottle of wine and two glasses. “It’s not as if I’d mind it.”

Ruben accepted the drink gratefully, took a sip and sat down on the sofa, watching the light as it reflected off the glass. “I just, I... It’s not that I don’t want to. But after everything with Cheryl...” He trailed off with a vague gesture and looked so uncomfortable, you felt like kicking yourself.

“The last thing I want is to make you feel like there’s any pressure to-”

“No.” He looked up at you again, then took another deep drink. “No, I’m ready to move on. But, uh... we met when we were both really young.”

“I know.”

“And... I haven’t really been with anyone else.”

You smiled. This was easier territory. Somewhere deep and dark inside you, something stirred... he was so sweet, he seemed so innocent despite his experience and from what you’d pieced together, it sounded like the two of them had been the clean, wholesome romantic American ideal come to life.

There was a whole world out there and you could be the one to show him. If he wanted you to, of course.

God, you hoped he wanted you to. “That’s the opposite of a problem, Ruben. It’s sweet.”

“Yeah?” He set his drink down and slowly moved in close, gently, as if he worried he might startle you if he didn’t take every care.

You met him in another kiss. This time, he slipped his tongue in without waiting and pulled you to him to feel you close, with his hand running up your side and his pretty hair tickling your forehead. It was clear he had habits in how he moved and rather than taking the lead, you let yourself be soft and yield to him.

Even though he made you moan and you shifted in your seat to give him access, he didn’t press further. You put your hands to his chest and slipped them up to hold on to his shoulders and soon you heard him gasp. When he pulled away you saw lust written all over his face and heard his breath coming faster, and still he seemed nowhere closer to going beyond kisses.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

God, the idea of making out on the couch all evening like a pair of teenagers was absolute torture. Getting hot and heavy was one thing, but with the way he made you feel already if it didn’t build to any sort of release it might be less painful to just end it here.

“So are you.” You pulled the hem of his t-shirt between your fingers. “I bet you’re gorgeous all over...”

Ruben swallowed, hard, then tugged his shirt up over his head and let it fall to the floor.

You gasped. Forget your idle daydreams - he really did have the chest, shoulders and stomach of some sort of god. If he was shy, it wasn’t because he had any doubts about his appearance; his smile convinced you of that.

Well, you couldn’t let yourself fall behind. With slightly shaky hands, you reached around your back and unzipped your dress, too eager to feel self conscious.

“You don’t have to,” Ruben insisted but the look in his eyes betrayed how much he hoped you would.

This mutual, misplaced concern could get in the way all night, no matter how much you both wanted this. “How about we agree that if either of us wants to slow things down or stop, we just say so? That way we can skip past all this second guessing.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” His voice was so affected it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Then...” you held up your dress with the front pressed to your chest and considered your options. “You grab the wine and let’s take this to the bedroom.”

Ruben followed close behind you, shut the door and didn’t wait before helping you out of your dress. He watched you strip down the rest of the way in mute wonder and if he’d ever made you worry if his mind was on his ex, that ended now. Still, even though he felt achingly hard when he pulled you in for another kiss, even though he couldn’t tear his eyes from you, he undressed slowly and laid you down on the bed with such care.

Not every man liked it hard and fast, you knew that, but this was different... it was as if he’d made love a thousand times but had never even thought about fucking.

He didn’t try to hide that he was eager. When you reached for him, he moved into your touch and when you stroked and kissed him, he sighed out loud. There was nothing stoic about him, he just kept himself firmly in control and that was the very last thing you wanted. When he lay beside you and started kissing his way down your stomach, your patience finally wore out.

“Please, Ruben... I want you.”

He smiled. “I want you, too.”

It was one thing if your interests differed, but another thing entirely if he didn’t, or wouldn’t, understand what you meant. “I want you inside me, already. I want you to fuck me.”

His smile faded a little. “Am I going too slow? I just want to please you...”

You’d both promised to say if anything went too far. “You want to please me?”

“Of course.” The look on his face was so open, so sweet and pure.

It was wrong, but it only made you want to ruin him quicker.

“Then don’t hold back, just hold me down and fuck me.”

It was hard to tell in the dim light, but it looked as if he was starting to blush. His voice was a little rough as he forced himself to respond. “I-I really like you, I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

God, this was wrong. Which was a ridiculous thing to think - he was twenty eight years old, he was in no way a virgin and it wasn’t as if you were trying to force him into doing something he didn’t want. He’d promised to tell you if he wanted to stop. But it felt wrong because you wanted to break him and you didn’t want it to feel right. “Not even if I like it?”

Ruben gasped as if he’d been hit in the gut. His eyes darted across your features, searching for a clue to whether or not you’d meant it. Now he was tense, his confidence seemed to have vanished, but there was no way for him to hide it - the thought turned him on. After an agonizing pause, he whispered, “how?”

Wordlessly, you reached for him and he crawled up until his face hovered above yours. The hunger in his eyes was blended with conflict and shame and you felt your cunt tighten and something foul twisting in your gut. He let you guide his hand to your hair, he held on to it and when you nudged his grip, he took the hint and pulled. He pulled hard and watched as you twisted to follow the movement, then pulled harder.

You moaned and let your eyes roll back. If you thought you’d been wet before...

Ruben eased off. “...You really do like it.”

It wasn’t a question, even though he sounded like he couldn’t believe it - he could see how your legs fell apart wider and how your spine arched.

“Yeah, I do,” you whispered and looked up at him, making sure he knew that if there was any doubt, it was his alone. “I-I’ve fantasised about you, like this... getting you so hard you can’t help yourself, you shoving me into some dark corner and just ripping my clothes off and taking me.”

He made a noise like something between a sob and a moan. His lips parted and his shoulders tensed - you could almost see how he strained against his self-control . Before it’d been a matter of course, now it was a struggle. “This is so wrong,” he managed, his voice cracking as he spoke.

“Maybe.” You tried to keep your smile playful and worried that it just looked mean. “But it doesn’t seem like you mind that part.”

Ruben had told you himself one of the first times you’d talked that he trusted too easily. Maybe that’s what he fell back on now - whatever his justifications, he resumed his grip and, before you had the chance to steel yourself, yanked your head by your hair in the other direction and kept pulling so far you had to follow with your whole torso.

You kept your attention fixed on him while he forced you to cry out. It looked as if something in him snapped when he heard it.

His breathing quickened and his lips twisted into almost a smile. There was danger now, sooner than you could have hoped. You thought you’d wanted him before but now it felt as if you couldn’t go another second without feeling him inside you. He kept his gaze on you - you couldn’t tell whether it was to make sure you were alright or to drink in the look of pain and pleasure blended on your face - then reached down with his free hand to force your knees even further apart.

Ruben swallowed and for a second it seemed like he was about to ask again if you were certain. You held your breath waiting for it but he proved you’d been right about him - he didn’t even touch you to make sure you were ready, just rubbed the head of his cock against your soaking cunt until he’d lined himself up, then forced himself inside you, all the way, with one rough push.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, but it wasn’t enough for him. His grip on your hair tightened and his other hand pulled up your knee, too rough and strong for you to deny him access, and pinned you there with half his weight on his arm.

“How does it feel?” he whispered. A voice that soft had no right to sound so menacing.

“God, Ruben... it feels perfect.”

He pulled out slowly, then snapped his hips and buried himself back in so hard it hurt. You made sure to let him hear it and Ruben smiled, shocked and exhilarated.

“Oh yeah? What feels perfect?”

“When... when you fuck me like this.” You might not need to talk him into this any further, but the fire was lit and you wanted to stoke it. “When you’re rough with me...”

“Isn’t it painful?” And he twisted his grip in your hair again until it felt like he might pull it out by the roots.

“Ow, please! Yes, yes it’s painful...”

“God...” His pace was settled now, hard and fast, especially when he gave you those last couple of inches and sent the headboard bouncing off the wall. “You look even more beautiful when you’re hurting.”

“Just... don’t stop, Ruben, please don’t stop...”

He let go of your hair, ran his hand up along your side, caught one of your nipples between his fingers and with his eyes locked on yours, tweaked it roughly until you sobbed.

“Why would I? You’re giving me everything I want.”

When he shut his eyes and lost himself in the moment, you watched him carefully for any lingering doubts and found none. With your leg up and your knee almost pressed against your chest, he could bottom out fully with each thrust and really, you should have warmed up a little more before taking him so deeply. You were sure he knew that.

Just to test him, you tried to push your thigh against his arm to ease his pressure. As soon as he noticed, his eyes met yours again and he tested you right back by shoving it back down even further than before. You gasped out and he smiled.

You felt your wetness trickling down to your ass and whined in embarrassment, “oh, god...!”

“You asked for it.”

It’d never crossed your mind that things might actually go this far the very first time you slept together and so you hadn’t worried, at least any more than you usually would, about the fact that he was so much stronger than you and there was no one in the house tonight besides the two of you. In the short time you’d known him, he’d never said or done a thing to make you doubt him but even if you’d waited longer, there was never really any way to truly know what any person was capable of. Right up to the moment they showed you.

You felt a shiver rush through you and it had nothing to do with the feeling of his body against yours. You’d hoped Ruben had it in him to cut loose and live a little but you couldn’t tell anymore if he was rough with you and loved the way you loved it, or if you loving it was nothing more than a bonus. Seeing him now, the way he looked at and past you, the way he ignored how you moved under him, you realised you had no idea what he was capable of, and worse, neither had he.

The smart thing to do would be to ask him to stop, just to make sure he’d listen, but the bigger part of you didn’t want to. He’d never looked more perfect to you and knowing you’d broken his resolve like this was exhilarating. Figuring out what that said about you could wait.

“Oh god... I need you to keep fucking me like this.” You reached for him and ran your hands across his shoulders, wanting him closer. He didn’t seem to even register your touch but the desperation in your voice made him shiver.

“I guess... I guess you’d better beg me, then.”

Jesus.

“Please, Ruben...”

He actually laughed and somehow found the willpower to slow down. “Try again.”

“Please, I need your cock in me, I want you so badly...”

Ruben just smiled, deceptively sweetly. He’d taken to this quicker than you’d dared hope and the cold glint in his pretty eyes made you feel almost shy.

You took a deep breath and tried again.

“Just take me, fuck me... I promise I’ll do anything.”

“Mmh...” He pushed back inside you, so achingly slow it was almost worse than if he’d stopped altogether. “Anything? You need it that bad?”

“Of course.” You swallowed. God, he’d better hold you to it. “You’re perfect, I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.” All you wanted was to know everything he pictured when you said that, every wrong and selfish fantasy he’d ever tried to ignore, everything he’d refused to admit he wanted, even to himself. “Please take me, I’ll be good... I’ll let you fuck me raw, fuck my throat, any time you like... I’ll swallow it all...”

Ruben groaned out loud and rested his forehead against your shoulder. “...You’re filthy.”

And still he barely moved. It wasn’t enough - it wasn’t fair that he still held back after all that. Without thinking it through, you ground down on him just to get the slightest bit of friction, anything.

Ruben lifted himself up onto one elbow and his eyes narrowed. “Don’t do that.”

His look chilled you.

“I’m sorry...”

“Are you gonna behave?”

That was a tough decision. The thought of him restraining you, or punishing you, was enough to make your cunt tighten around him and your heart skip a beat, but it would mean an even longer wait before he fucked you properly. Besides, it was a little soon to play it like that. It was hard to read him now; he might very well lose his nerve.

You kept your voice sweet and soft when you replied, “I’ll be a good girl, I promise.”

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped.

“I want to be a good girl for you, please let me. Let me take it for you...”

“Yeah, you’re gonna take it.” Ruben pulled away from you, lifted you and flipped you over, then pulled you towards him by your waist until he had your ass in the air and your face buried among the pillows. You barely found your bearing before he pushed inside you again. One of his hands held on to your hip, almost hard enough to bruise, as if you’d ever try to move away from his rough, ruthless thrusts.

The other gripped your hair again and yanked your head back so far you had to arch your spine as much as it would let you and even then it was difficult for you to breathe. Every time his hips slapped against your ass, the head of his dick pushed painfully against your cervix and the discomfort and pleasure blended together, both getting so intense it made you feel almost sick. You needed relief and Ruben didn’t object or slow his pace when you reached up between your legs to tease your clit with your fingers. Perhaps he didn’t even notice.

“You like that?” he growled, as if your yelps and moans and pleading wasn’t proof enough.

“It’s-it’s so good... it feels so good...”

“And you’re gonna take it like this for me again?”

“Oh, any time you ask, ah-any way you want it...”

“You’re... you’re gonna regret saying that.” His rhythm was getting erratic. You wanted to pull him even further down into the dirt and keep him there as he came...

“I could never, Ruben... all I want is for you to use me.”

Your words made him whimper. He pushed all the way inside you, his fingers dug deep into your flesh and you felt his hot come fill your cunt.

He shuddered, gave one last push and held still until his orgasm was fully spent. Then with a soft sigh, he finally withdrew, let go of you and sank back exhausted onto the bed.

As soon as you could find a bit of strength you rolled over and turned towards him.

The pleasure was slowly fading from his expression and shock crept in to take its place. With every deep breath, he seemed to regain more of his senses and you couldn’t have seen his guilt more clearly if you’d been able to read his mind. You reached for him, but he pulled away with a hand pressed to his mouth.

“What did I...”

“Ruben, it’s alright.” You moved closer again but as you did, you brought your side into view and his eyes widened and started to glitter at the sight of the bruises he’d left on your hip.

“Oh, god. I’m-I’m so sorry...”

“I told you I wanted this, we both wanted this -”

As soon as you said it, you wished you hadn’t.

“You’re right, I knew what I was doing. I just didn’t care.” He drew away now as if he couldn’t move fast enough and scrambled to pull his pants back on. “I... there’s gotta be something wrong with me. I have to go, I shouldn’t be here.”

It was pointless to try to talk him into staying and you reluctantly gave him room and stopped protesting. You hadn’t expected such a strong reaction but now it was here and you couldn’t help him through it. He turned from you, but not before you’d seen a tear spill out and tumble down his cheek.

“Of course you should go if you need to be alone. But Ruben...”

He forced himself to meet your gaze.

“I don’t regret it.”

He nodded. “It’s fine, I just need to think.” When he reached the door, he hesitated for a moment. “I’ll call you, alright?”

“I hope you do .”

With one more nod, he shut the door and padded down the stairs. Before you’d even caught your breath, he was gone.

#shootfighter #shootfighter: fight to the death #ruben patterson #billy zabka imagines #billy zabka #my fics

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mxndanemagic · 3 years ago

Text

“Were you aware the average amount of blood in an adults body can be about over one gallon? It doesn’t sound like a lot now does it, High Priest Lawrence?” A soothing voice is accompanied by gentle movements as she cradles the hand of a bounded man.

His eyes dart in every direction they’re capable of - trying to piece together a sense of his whereabouts. Where were his guards? How did he miss sight of an intruder? The soft hums from a face that seemed familiar has him further on edge. Shouldn’t that woman be dead? An old reminder of the son that brought shame to their family name. No. This wasn’t her...she wasn’t-

“Evelynn.” He speaks up. “You must be something to that half-witch.” Despite being tied down on a concrete table, rendered harmless, and shaking with fear moments ago- the High priest still managed to speak with disdain. The woman’s humming continues, now entertaining herself with examining the joints in his fingers. How far could they bend? He can guess the question is dancing about in her thoughts. Yet when her eyes snap open, looking his way - the captive warlock finds he can’t say another word. A sinking feeling blankets over him at the sight of red. A shade of red he’s seen before. A sign of giving up too much to the taboo within their craft.

“You’re right. I’m not your ambitious grand-daughter. She’s still decomposing who knows where. Mother never told us where they buried the ol’ girl.”

“I’m not someone you’d particularly have any memory of. That’s fine since it made catching you off guard much easier than I assumed. You knew of my research yet were careless to leave all your dirty work to people who’d sooner than later want you dead.”

A look of surprise flicks over her face, dropping hold of his hand. “How rude of me. You really have no clue as to who I am, do you? Just a clue to someone we used to know.”

Lawrence's own expression narrows into frustration, spitting out impatience with his demands. “Speak clearly, witch. Tell me who you are and stop playing around-” A strangled pained cry cuts off his anger, the sound of cracking bones is heard throughout the room. He can feel the sharp, stabbing pain from the fracture as the witch lets out a sigh.

“It’s not nice to raise your voice at others. You’re not exactly in a position to be ordering someone around.” She lectures. “Maybe I should have been a little more direct.” A kind smile that doesn’t go along with her actions or words is displayed. “I’m Evee’s grand-daughter. Ella Nowell. We’ve met before but I know I appeared differently than as to how I now look.” she explains. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

Her words sounded genuine and sincere but a familiar look doesn’t miss his gaze. A hunger he can recognize easily. The need for power and a desire to play judge and executioner.

“You want to make me laugh, little witch? A fracture won’t keep you safe. Those loyal to me will find you but I’ll free myself long before then. Your punishment will be agonizing and slow, hellion.” He threatens with a confident grin. A smug expression that falters within a second as he his head is harshly shoved back, struggling to breathe as fingers clutch around his neck and clawed fingers dig in to draw blood.

Those red eyes bore into his own startled face - no time to react when Ella is swift to thrust her hand out to strangle him. The smile she wore is long gone, replaced by a calm fury watching him like he spoke out of line.

“...And I’m gonna kill you.”

He really must have been a stupid person. Ella had been careful with everything. Take out his security, assure no one saw her or knew she’d be going after the hated man. His corruption and cruelty would be no more. Lawrence was a careless old fool. Not even noticing that his bountiful reserves of magic were being drained when she held his hand in a comforting manner. He may view her grandmother as a failure but Ella would succeed in what Evelynn couldn’t do. Releasing her grip, Ella lets the High Priest gasp for air and try to steady his breathing. It’d be disappointing to dispose of him so quickly.

“Didn’t mean to get ahead of myself. Can’t have you dying yet - not from crushing your windpipe anyway.” she chuckles. “You’re without any magic to take me on. Quite telling of your perceptiveness - well lack of it that is.” Circling the table, the witch stops behind his head. “Where should we start? What could you endure?”

Is she asking him or wondering aloud? The warlock can’t distinguish and simply watches as snow white hair drapes over when she looks down at him. “You’ve never hurt anyone before have you?” he taunts. “I have nothing to fear then. You’re an amateur at best.”

“Hm, you’re not wrong but I’ve tried getting some practice in and if I’m being honest - I don’t like that underestimating look you’ve been giving me. Why don’t we pluck those eyes right out~?” Ella suggests. One hand holds his head still while the others hovers over his face - fingertips nearing an eye. Without hesitation the clawed tips plunge into the socket, gaining a thrash from the other as they cry out in pain. The witch doesn’t cease and continues to tugging and digging at the eyeball. “Stay still will you? The eye isn’t an easy thing to yank out.” she frowns only to give a forceful tug of her hand back and smile at the sound of something snapping.

There went one eye falling to the ground. Satisfaction displays across her face, admiring the results. “You can keep the other. Can’t have you not witness everything you’re about to go through, hm?”

“I took pointers and asked around about the best tools for this kind of thing. What was it you were saying earlier? Something about having me punished slowly?”

“What of it you damned halfling?” Lawrence lets out a venomous sneer back at her.

“That’s High Priestess to you and as for slow and agonizing-” A sweep of her hand in front of his neck is given. “I believe quick and efficient is how things should be done. Like you said I’m not much of a tormenter when it comes to lowly bugs.”

The sensation of a slit forming across skin dawns on the man, the cut on his neck is deep - blood beginning to seep out. Head careening back and soon falling back with tumble as it’s decapitated with a clean slice.

Ella observes the head for a moment, glancing between the body and it’s detached part. “What an unpleasant man.” strolling over to the head, Ella picking it up with ease only to toss it into the air. With a short incantation the body part is engulfed in a burst of flames and leaving only ashes behind.

“You had quite the run High Priest Lawrence...but things must change for the better. May your soul continue to be tormented as your life continues as a bitter wraith in the forest. Witches will no longer have to fear your tyranny.”

#drabble #tw: torture #tw: body mutilation #tw: murder #muse;ella #v; villain au #not a long one and lacking in the gruesome department #but first attempt writing something a bit darker #poor lawrence's debut is one where he's taken out >>#but he wasn't a good guy at all

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headoverjojo · 5 years ago

Note

Sad/angsty scenario(or HC’s if you prefer) where new head of Passione Giorno finds a s/o of a La Squadra member who had been in hiding and waiting for their partner to come back and he has to break the bad news to them?

A H ç.ç Ok I started to write it this morning in the cafeteria before class and I made myself SAD but aaaaaaaaa angst is also so addicting?? It hurts like hell but once you try it you cannot stop aaaaaaa help ç.ç

I’ve chosen among the Squadra Risotto as the specific member whose s/o has to be informed here, I hope it’s fine!

Don Giovanna has to break the news of their partner’s death to a s/o of one of the Squadra di Esecuzione

(Under the cut for length!)

If only Gold Experience had the power to go back in time, Giorno would have immediately used it to change the past. He would have done everything to prevent his comrades’ death. Abbacchio, Narancia, Bruno… they all would have been here, safe and sound in the new Passione. He also would have tried to change how things went with the Squadra. If only… if only they had known that, in the end, their goal was the same, if only they had talked to each other, finding it out and teaming up…

They all would have been alive and Giorno shouldn’t have announced to their families the death of their husband, brother, son, partner. He wouldn’t have spread so much pain.

Giorno’s hands had never stopped to slightly shake since the moment he had found out that the Squadra members had families. It was so easy to picture them just as heartless murders… but they weren’t so. They were men as everyone else. Until that moment, Giorno had watched Pesci’s parents crumbling down, in tears, and Formaggio’s girlfriend staring at the void for minutes, hours, in shock. He had to hold back the tears when Illuso’s grandfather, a towering man even in his late years, hid his face in his hands to not let him see his tears and when Melone’s girlfriend broke down, sobbing and whispering that it wasn’t fair, that he even didn’t knew he was going to be a father. He could just lower his gaze when Ghiaccio’s uncle, the only one who never gave up with him, tightened his jaw, painfully holding back the agony, and when Prosciutto’s sisters, stubborn like him, bit their lips so hard to draw blood, to not cry in front of him. And now he had to meet the last one on his horrible list, and it was Risotto’s partner.

He hated it, he hated to have to give such an agonizing news; he didn’t know the Squadra, hell, he had contributed to kill them… but, at the same time, he couldn’t leave entire families just waiting and waiting for someone who would never be back. He had to do it to make atonement.

Every step seemed heavier than the previous one and, with them, his heart too grew heavier; he was almost hunched down when he finally got to the white painted door of the small house lost in the countryside. Risotto had chosen a perfect place where to hide his love; Giorno himself had had not few problems in finding it.

He lifted his fist, hesitating few seconds, before finally knocking at the door. He heard steps from inside the house and, after a little, a hesitant and cautious voice.

“Who’s there?”

“My name’s Giorno Giovanna. I don’t work for the Boss of Passione; he’s dead. I have to talk to you, please.” he didn’t know how he managed to keep his voice steady. He heard various clacks of door locks and chains and, finally, they opened the door. His heart clenched painfully when he saw their face and the hope on it. of course, the Boss was dead and this meant that their man could come back home…

“Can I come in, please?” he asked, in a low and soft voice. They nodded, stepping back and leading him to the kitchen. A coffeepot was on the stove and the strong aroma of coffee was pervading the whole room.

“Would you like some coffee?” Giorno just shook his head; he would have thrown up even a sip of water, in that moment.

“No, thank you. Please… please, it’s better if you sit down.” Giorno’s tone made few alarms in their head ring. Giorno saw how their eyes, from hopeful, grew worried and scared. They sat down, staring at him, as their jaw tightened painfully.

“What’s going on? Where’s Risotto?” their voice was trembling. Giorno swallowed, desperately trying to find the right words, but, god, it didn’t exist a “right way” to announce something like this, and why was he voiceless? Why it didn’t become easier? Why did it always hurt like hell, even if he didn’t know these people?

“Is he…?” Giorno didn’t need them to finish the sentence to know what they meant. He nodded, swallowing again, feeling his eyes filling with tears when he saw their face twisting in pain, as a devastating and totalizing agony spread in their heart.

“How?” their voice was barely a whisper, but it sounded as loud as a scream. Giorno couldn’t help but to admire their strength; they were trying so hard to not break down…

“The Boss. He… he killed him in Sardinia.” Giorno’s voice too wasn’t more than a whisper. In the silence of the small kitchen, the coffeepot started to grumble and they immediately got up to go to turn off the stove. Their hands, as they were giving their back to Giorno, trembled.

“So he met the Boss, in the end…” their shoulders too started to shake, as tears invisible to Giorno rolled down their cheeks.

“He- he fought against him… he saw his face and fought for his mentors…” Giorno got up as well, worried, and slowly neared them. They didn’t chase him away.

“He did. He seriously injured the Boss.” Giorno felt the urge to tell them it, to tell them that Risotto didn’t die in shame, but with honour, fighting not only for his life, but also for avenging his fallen teammates, for coming back to them. He hoped that knowing that their man died doing his best to avenge their friends and to protect them could at least… not consoling them, because nothing but time would have been able to soothe the pain, but at least to give them a small anchor to hold onto in that dark, dark moment. Their shoulders shook more violently, as they were barely managing to hold back few deep sobs.

“It’s… it’s s-selfish to say that… I just want him back… back home…?” Giorno felt his self control cracking, as his bottom lip started to quiver, as it always happened when he was about to cry. No…

“It’s not. It’s not selfish.” the young Don stumbled back a little, when they hugged him. No, it wasn’t a hug; they were grasping at him like he was their lifeline, the only concrete thing in a sea of pain where they were trying not to drown into. And this, seeing them so lost, so hopeless, so lonely, broke him. His arms enveloped their shoulders, as to keep them together, as their arms were keeping him together, and the first tears since that day in Sardinia found their way to roll down his cheeks. They both cried all their soul out for their lost ones; for the Capo who wanted to avenge his teammates and to guarantee his love a safer life; for the kind leader who wanted to change their little world to better and who came back from death itself to protect his team; for the man who ‘till his last breath searched for a redemption that maybe he had already found time ago; for the innocent and brave boy who didn’t deserve to die.

Giorno had completed his task and it was now time to let all the repressed pain go.

#jjba #vento aureo #la squadra di esecuzione #risotto nero #prosciutto #pesci #formaggio #melone #illuso #ghiaccio #cited #neutral s/o #angsty #angsty scenario #don giovanna #giorno giovanna #scenario #sfw #anon ask

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