#you’ll at least need some good rope or chains to keep me down there for good

[rosicheeks]

Kidnapping you because it's cheaper than buying a new fleshlight 👀

[tianablackwell]

So…I saw a post about whipping (because I’m such a sucker for pretty boys being whipped 🙂) AND I got to thinking…..One Piece?? Zoro?? Ehehhehehehehehhee

Enjoy

Trigger Warnings: not much just some intense fear and yeah whippings and some cursing

Usopp’s face contorted in fear as the commander talked.

“If you were pirates, we would have to simply hand you over to the Navy. But fortunately, you’re not. And oh, that makes it so much better.”

It was supposed to be so simple. Grab the poneglyph and run. Why did they have to get caught? It was just a stupid normal rock anyways. Stupid decisions. Stupid idea. Stupid stupid stupid -

“According to the rules of the country, any thief caught stealing confidential government information shall be punished with 500 lashes. However, as there are five of you…”

Usopp glanced at the others. Sanji, Nami, Brook, and Robin’s faces were all filled with fear in some shape or form. The guard stepping forward holding a cat-o-nine tail whip was NOT helping.

“Oi, if you dare touch the ladies I’ll kick you back to where you came from, you tete de noeu-”

There was a smack when Sanji’s head slammed into the floor, and then a quiet drip as blood began to trickle down the cook’s head. The man’s insulting foot tapped impatiently on the floor.

“Since you clearly haven’t learned the severity of the situation, an extra 50 lashes for this one.”

Sanji lunged at the man but he was caught by the thick chains encircling his hands.

“Fine. 50 more for each of them. Maybe that’ll make you keep your mouth shut, hmm?”

Sanji let out a sound that sounded like an angry mother bear, but he obeyed nonetheless. Usopp could hear Nami choking back a sob while the commander chuckled.

“We didn’t steal it, I swear! We just got lost. I swear I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“You got lost? IN A COURTYARD?” The man’s blood began to boil. “Let me get this straight. You expect me to believe that you got lost in a courtyard at the same time a copy of my poneglyph, my information, was almost stolen right from under my nose?! You have no proof of your innocence, and I don’t even need a confession from you good for nothing thieves, you hear?!”

Usopp thought that if they put the copy back or at least threw it into a similar looking room, they wouldn’t have enough evidence to prove that an actual thievery attempt was made. Clearly he was wrong.

“Sir!” A servant appeared from an outside door. “A samurai is waiting outside for you.”

“Tell him to wait.”

“But sir…”

“I said to tell him to wait!”

Another servant scurried up to him and whispered something in his ear.

The commander spun around with eyes red as scarlet. “Then why didn’t you tell me sooner?!” The man strode out of the room before he snapped his fingers at some guards. On his command, the five crewmates were dragged out the door into a guarded square. The barred fence was strong but still allowed anyone to look in and watch. It was like a scene from a horror movie.

Some curious children tried to be onlookers, but their parents dragged them away quickly without glancing back.

Usopp felt tears coming to his eyes as he was taken beyond his crewmates tied up behind him and to a triangular platform with thick ropes hanging from above.

It hurt. Tears were threatening to start pouring down his cheeks as he felt his upper clothes stripped off and his back made bare. His shoulders burned from the amount of pressure - his feet could barely touch the ground and refused to hold any weight.

It seemed like ages before a guard came back and untied him.

“There’s been a mistake. Your sentence has been removed. You’ll be moved immediately.”

Time seemed to move in slow motion as the group was thrown out of the courtyard and into the safety of an abandoned road that Usopp knew would eventually lead home. Even though he knew now that they would be okay, he still felt himself bawling with relief. The small group of pirates shuffled their way home, each comforting another until they finally reached the safety of their beds.

Chopper greeted them with worry and enthusiasm, having been absolutely terrified upon hearing they had been captured and also bawling with relief upon finding them virtually unharmed.

With everyone else gone (the rest of the pirate crew was on a different island at the time), save Zoro who had gotten lost on his walk, again, he had been unsure of what to do or how to react and had spent all of his allowance on a variety of medical supplies just in case.

It was hardly dark but the group of pirates snuggled in close next to each other and began to sleep safe and sound.

And they were.

Until there was a loud noise and Sanji heard the door open with a thud.

“Oi, Marimo, maybe keep it down for the rest of us who didn’t get lost?”

There was a loud and annoyed grunt before he heard something drop and a dish clattered to the floor as a result. Sanji rolled his eyes and got out of bed as he searched for the source of the sound. He glanced in the kitchen and placed the dish back in the cupboard before peering into the living space.

Unsurprised, he found the swordsman laid oddly against the wall, presumably asleep. He mumbled some incoherent curses towards the swordsman before catching the glimpse of the finger. The cook snorted and crawled back into his bed, ignoring the man altogether.

It was morning when Usopp heard the loud yelling of Chopper.

And……if you wanna find out next you gonna have to read the next post

[hailtothemightystarwarrior]

The Star Warrior Nutcracker Ch. 12: The Wedding Ceremony

The squeakers cackled as they bound the nutcracker to the stake. He gazed down at the pile of wood surrounding him and knew what was up.

Throughout the courtyard, more citizens were being brought in chains. Tiff gasped when she spotted a familiar group

“Tuff!” she shouted

The guards holding her chains prevented her from rushing to her brother

“Ah, let her go!” doc said nonchalantly. “Let them have their sappy reunion while it lasts”

The squeakers released the rebel leader and she didn’t waste a second. After a few stumbles, she reached her brother and embraced him as best she could without choking her with the chains.

“What’s going on sis? Tuff asked “Why are we all here?”

“I don’t know,” tiff said, wiping away the tears. “I’m so sorry, tuff. I came to save you, but…”

“It’s okay. You tried. At least we’re together now”

metaknight turned to the right when he heard a familiar grunt. He gasped when he saw who the squeakers were tying to the other stake

“Fairy queen!”

The queen met his gaze and cried, “Metaknight!”

“They’re going to kill you too? But I thought Daroach wanted to marry you!”

“So did i, but he said he had another girl in mind”

“Another girl? Who?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say her name”

The nutcracker sighed “I’m sorry, my lady. I swore i would return for you, but i let you down. And now…daroach’s won”

She looked at him empathetically. “No, he hasn’t. Not completely. He failed to drive us apart”

She reached out her hand out as far as she could from the ropes. Metaknight did the same

“Metaknight!” another familiar voice called

The nutcracker turned to see the witch sisters being dragged into the courtyard “Drawcia, paintra!”

“Metaknight, the artist’s brooch! It’s the only thing that can stop daroach!”

“Adeleine’s brooch?”

“No, metaknight! The artist’s brooch is…”

“Hey!” storo shouted “Shut her up!”

The squeakers tied a gags around the two witches’ mouths, preventing them from finishing their sentence

Meanwhile, daroach was watching from the shadows, smiling in triumph. Escargoon ran up to him and tugged on his cape

“The bride’s ready, your majesty,” he said “She’s waiting in the back”

“Good,” the squeak king said rubbing his hands together “showtime!”

“By the way, is the fairy and the pink ball gonna be sticking around?”

“Yes, yes, whatever” daroach grumbled,waving his paw. “We’ll decide who stays and who goes later. I mean i have to keep some servants, don’t i?”

He took a deep breath and stepped out to the head of the crowd

“Hello, my loving subjects!” he greeted

The populace quieted down as they turned to glare at the squeak king

“It’s so nice of you all to join us on this happy occasion!”

“You dirty rat!” somebody called from the crowd

“You don’t deserve that crown!” cried another voice

“What’ve you done with adeleine?!” tiff demanded

“You can kill us, daroach,” metaknight shouted, “but it won’t help you earn the people’s respect!”

Daroach huffed. “I don’t need your respect! Your pathetic little opinions are nothing to me! I only care about one person’s opinion and you’re all about to meet her!”

“What are you talking about?” the fairy queen asked

The squeak king smiled and lifted his arms dramatically in the air. “This day marks the beginning of a new era! Today, we will be making a slight change in the government!”

“Didn’t you already do that when you took over the place?! Tuff spat

“Smart aleck,” daroach groaned. “No, no! This day will be different, for today, will be adding a new member to our cabinet, so to speak. today, my loyal subjects, you will have a queen!”

The citizens whispered to each other in confusion and alarm

“Oh, don’t worry,” he continued “You’ll like her. For she is the sweetest, most beautiful girl you will ever meet! And you lucky blokes will get to witness our glorious union!”

“Who in their right mind would agree to marry that pest?” tiff murmured to her brother

“You!” daroach cried pointing to an androgynous, young, spider-like creature. He has brown skin and two orange horns with brown rings and yellow tips, as well as shiny, silver, curvy hair; additionally, he has two orange fangs protruding from his upper lip, which is lined in white. On the front of his head, he has two orange-yellow eyes in his hair and two white eyes with a slight purple glow on his face, along with four more orange-yellow eyes on the back of his head. He wears a crimson scarf and a jagged, dark green cape with orange lining in a spider-web pattern. The dark green clothing on his body has two silver buttons on its front and crimson circle designs on both sides. He also has a crimson stinger-like appendage on his bottom and six disembodied hands with white and orange gloves holding a violin with two bows.

“Tarantula!”

“Taranza,” the spider like creature grumbled, as if he had said this in a hundred times

“Whatever. Can you play a wedding march on that violin of yours?”

“Well, I once did this wedding in fine fields…”

“PLAY!”

That jumped the jester into playing the march on his violin. The squeakers made a long red carpet stretch across the courtyard

“My people!” daroach exclaimed, pointing to the far end of the courtyard. “Behold, your new queen! Queen… Adeleine!”

“What?!” metaknight and tiff both exclaimed as they followed everybody’s gaze

Adeleine walked slowly into the sunlight. Daroach’s breath was taken away as she seemed to glimmer. She wore a sparkling white gown with rainbow streamers. The dress had round, puffy shoulders, a big pink ribbon on the chest and a pink sash. On her back are a pair of oversized rainbow colored butterfly wings. Around her neck is the same brooch daroach gave her and on her ears were a pair of Star earrings. On her head is a headband with two star-like antennas with a pink ribbon tied to the back of her hair and a light, translucent veil fell gently over her face. On her hands she wore delicate white gloves as she held a bouquet of purple roses for enchantment. Ribbon and kirby carried her train, making occasional glances at the pair of squeakers pointing spears at their backs

Adeleine looked around in shock at the crowd, particularly at metaknight and a tall fairy she assumed to be the fairy queen tied to two stakes with firewood at their feet

“Adeleine!” the nutcracker called. “What are you doing?!”

“Are you out of your mind?!” tiff shouted

Many cappies called out similar things. Some murmured to each other, wondering why this girl was going through with this

“Maybe she’s under a spell”

I say she’s a traitor!”

“I think he put her up to it with threats!”

She wanted to deny these accusations and shout the truth, but she didn’t think it would be of much use. She turned her attention forward and decided to explain everything after the ceremony

Daroach was smiling brightly at her, his paws over his heart.it’s like a dream, except that it’s real. Sometimes dreams can be real. He truly looked excited and adeleine might’ve been too, had it not been for the hundreds of imprisoned citizens surrounding her.

He took her hand and led her up the steps. Then he knelt down and carefully lifted her veil

“You look beautiful, my dear” he breathed, kissing her lightly on the forehead. "So lovely"

“Daroach, what is all this?” she whispered, looking out the crowd

“Why, they’re here to watch, of course. A royal wedding is a big occasion”

“Yes, but…why are metaknight and the fairy queen tied to those stakes?”

“Oh, don’t worry darling,” he winked. “I’ll set them free once the ceremony’s over. The stakes are just for…insurance”

She looked at the nutcracker and then back at the squeak king. “So…if I don’t go through with this, you’ll…”

“But you won’t, will you? He said through his smile, pulling her closer

Adeleine glanced nervously back at the crowd. “But you’ll let them go as i say ‘I do’ right?”

“As promised, dearest,” he said, raising his paw, “I will bring them no harm”

After a few more glances, she gulped and nodded “Let’s…continue then”

Doc sped in front of the couple with an open book

“Dearly beloved,” he recited to the crowd, “We are gathered her today…”

“I can’t believe she’s doing this,” tiff murmured as doc continued his speech

“Isn’t that the girl we caught with the captain?” tuff asked

“Yup” tiff nodded

“I’ll bet daroach cast a curse on her!” tiff declared “There’s no way she could be doing this willingly!

“What are we gonna do?” tuff beseeched

“We gotta stop this!” the rebel grunted as she tugged on her chains. “Ugh! I really gotta start wearing hairpins!”

“Hey!” the boy exclaimed as he glanced down at his wrists “Wha?”

“What in the…?”

“Shhh!” a small voice whispered

They turned their heads to see nobody there

“Stay cool,” the voice said in tiff’s ear, “And wait for the signal”

The rebel smiled as she recognized the voice and nodded

“If anyone has any objections…”

The crowd roaded in protest. Daroach and snapped his fingers to make the squeakers gag everybody’s mouths

“Nope!” he chirped “No objections here! Just skip to the vows!”

“Do you, king daroach, take this girl…? Doc continued

Metaknight struggled in his bounds, determined to stop this ceremony. He didn’t care what happened to him, but he couldn’t let adeleine suffer a fate worse than death

He froze when he heard a “PSSST!” behind him

“Hold still!” a voice whispered

The nutcracker looked back at the empty space and raised his eyebrow in confusion

“Come on, you didn’t think I’d leave you hanging, did you?”

He smiled and shook his head

“…for as long as you both shall live?” doc said

Daroach grinned down at adeleine as he took her hands “I do”

“And do you, adeleine, take this squeaker, to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Adeleine could not find her voice. Daroach’s loving gaze urged her to say the words. But as she looked back at her friends bound and chained…

“Uh, miss adeleine?” doc said

“What?” adeleine said with a jump

The small squeaker tilted his head toward daroach. “I Believe the words are ‘i do?’”

She looked back up at daroach, who was biting his lip in worry.

“I…” she stammered “I…I…”

Daroach flashed the crowd an awkward smile and knelt down to his bride

“Darling, what’s wrong?” he whispered

“Daroach, I’m sorry, but…” she uttered, shaking her head “I just can’t do this!”

He stiffened “Why not?”

“This…this is just wrong! I can’t marry you like this!”

“Yes, you can,” he insisted,taking her face in his hands “You must! Please, adeleine…”

“I can’t marry you when there are strings attached!” she shouted

Daroach’s eyes flashed red and he scowled. She yelped as he grabbed her shoulders and shook her.

“Say ‘I do,’ or I will KILL EVERYBODY HERE!”

“Let her go, daroach!”

They turned and gasped to see the nutcracker free from the stake with his sword at the ready.

“Your reign of tyranny ends now! Everyone, for freedom!”

A series of battle cries rang out as the citizen burst from their chains, which had mysteriously been unlocked. The sqeakers were taken by surprise as their prisoners overcame them

“What?!” daroach shouted “How did…?”

His answer was given as elline and claycia materialized in front of them, each holding a set of keys

“Lose something, your majesty?” elline smirked

“Elline!” adeleine exclaimed in delight

“Traitor!” daroach growled

“Oh, no you majesty,” elline said, twirling the keys with her finger. “Don’t you remember? You laid me off earlier today. How can i betray you when i no longer work for you?”

“Doc! Get them!

Doc dropped the book and leaped at the sisters, who vanished before he could get close. He landed on the ground with a thud

“That’s it!” daroach declared as he pulled out his cane, bursting into flames. “These folks are all going to burn!”

“Daroach, no!” adeleine cried, tugging at his paw “You promised!”

He sighed as he extinguished the flame. “You’re right. Squeakers! Kill them! Kill them all!”

“No! You said…”

“I said i wouldn’t hurt them. And i won’t, darling. The squeakers, however made no such promise!”

Tears started welling up in adeleine’s eyes “Daroach, please! This is wrong!”

“They attacked us, dearest! This is just self-defense!”

Suddenly, a beam of electricity zapped onto daroach like the shock of a joy buzzer.

“What the…?” he said, scanning the courtyard. “Who Did That?!”

One the other side of the battlefield, he spied a pink haired girl

“Good shot, susie!” the blue ball next to her cried

“Take that, you big bully!” the pink one yelled

Three sisters dressed in black with with hair colors of blue, red, and yellow are behind them

“Alright, mages! Susie shouted “Ready!”

The sisters brought out their respective weapons. The blue mage’s weapon is a freezing soda gun, the red mage’s weapon is a giant flame cannon, and yellow mage’s weapon is a giant ring contraption with three taiko drums.

“Aim! FIRE!”

Daroach shrieked as a wave of ice, fire, and lighting came right towards him. He grabbed adeleine and pulled her out of range

“Susie!” metaknight called as he fended off a squeaker “You made it just in time!”

“And guessed who we bumped into on the way over here!” susie piped

“Waddle dees!” two voices shouted “attack!”

The nutcracker grinned as waddle dees came pouring in from all the quad’s entrances

“I think the cavalry’s here! Ribbon exclaimed before hitting a squeaker with a spear

“Shoot!” the squeak king cursed under his breath

“Daroach, stop this!” adeleine pleaded “I can’t let you…”

She was cut off as daroach abruptly lifted her into his arms and rushed to the nearest exit

“What are you doing?!” she screamed

“Getting you to a safe place!” he whispered harshly

Metaknight saw daroach slipping away with adeleine, but he was too far away to follow them

“Tiff!” he called

“Yeah?” the resistance leader responded after bashing two squeakers heads together

“We gotta make our way down the courtyard and stop daroach before he gets away with adeleine!”

“On it!”

She saluted before doing a backflip in the air and landed on a squeaker’s head. She hopped from head to head, knocking their owners down in the process. Unfortunately, the last head was storo’s, who was waiting for her. He grabbed her leg and tossed her to the ground. Tiff looked up at him smugly.

“We really gotta stop meeting like this”

“Oh, i’ll make sure it stops,” storo said, raising his hammer “For good”

Before he could strike, he suddenly stiffened and dropped his weapon. He cried out as he clutched his crotch. Elline materialized in front of him and knocking him down with a blow to the chin. Tiff grabbed her whip to fend off incoming attackers

“Glad you came back, elline,” she said to the paintbrush fairy

“Yeah,” elline laughed awkwardly as she kicked a squeaker. “Sorry about the whole backstabbing thing. I wasn’t lying when i said daroach had my sister”

The rebel smirked. “I was wrong about you, elline”

The paintbrush fairy shook her head “No, your right. I am one, without looking, she punched a squeaker in the face, “Bad girl”

And a final blown in the place below

On the other side of the battlefield, taranza was rushing toward susie

“Susie!” he called

“Taranza!” susie gasped

The couple zoomed into an embrace

“Did you bring your suit?”

“Sure do!” she chirped

Then susie brought out a pink and white robo mech suit which made tarnaza smile. She squeezed herself inside.

“Ready?” susie asked, powering up.

“Aim!” taranza exclaimed, releasing purple energy balls

“FIRE!”

They both released balls of energy across the courtyard, knocking squeakers down like bowling pins

Sword knight and blade knight are backing away from a pack of enemies, as was the witch sisters. Neither of them saw each other until they collided. They shrieked and turned to face each other, Their swords and brushes. They paused for a moment and then laughed awkwardly

They were brought back to reality when squeakers started closing in on them. The commanding officers stuck their hands out protectively in front of the sisters

“We’ll hold them off,” you make a break for it and…”

They were cut off as their enemies pounced without warning. Sword knight and blade knight raised their swords but before they could strike, a bolt of colorful energy shot the squeaker nearest to him back. confused , they watched as that same bolt took out the others one by one. When they were in the clear, the commanding officers glanced at the witch sisters, who were blowing out their brush wands

“Wow,” they both said in awe

Escargoon was pressed up against a wall, watching the battle before him. He wasn’t sure whether he should get involved or run. After all, he wasn’t a soldier, even though he was working for the bad guy

“Oomph!” ribbon cried out as she was knocked back against the wall. “Oh, you brutes!”

“Um,” escargoon said with an awkward smile and wave “Hey”

The fairy looked down at him and cringed “Uh…”

Their attention turned to the squeakers closing in on them

Ribbon didn’t get the chance to hit them as a whip wrapped around the squeakers and toppled them over. Escargoon’s eyes widened when tiff leaped on top of them

“Ribbon, the captain wants us to get to the exit over there!” the rebel declared “Daroach went out that way with adeleine!”

Ribbon nodded and dashed off. The snail was left frozen as he stared at the strong, confident blonde girl before him. His jaw dropped when she swipe the sweat off of her brow. She shook her head, allowing her long, straw-like ponytail to snap back and forth like a whip

She looked down at him with emerald green eyes and smiled. “You okay?”

Escargoon nodded dumbliy “Uh-huh”

“Stick with me. I’ll help you get through”

She ran close to the wall where there was less danger. For a moment. Escargoon just stood there in awe. Then he smiled and smoothed out his chest.

“Whatever you say, ma’am!”

Metaknight was almost at the exit when he was suddenly tackled. He reached for his sword but was flipped over and met with a pair of violet eyes”

“Your majesty!” he breathed

“Oh, metaknight!” she exclaimed, moving in to kiss him

“Not yet,” he said, putting his hand to her lips. “There’s still daroach to take care of, and it’s not as easy for him to stab me when i’m wood. Come on. Our only hope of defeating him is if we get you to the great crystal in the throne room”

“Right” the fairy queen said, standing them both up

“Come on, they can’t have gone far!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daroach was moving so fast that adeleine was running in his grip. Once they reached the throne room, she tried to break herself free

“Daroach, stop!” she shouted “Please! You’re hurting me!”

He finally came to a halt and released her hand. She gently rubbed it as she glared at him

“Daroach, this madness has to end,” she said in a low voice “You promised you wouldn’t hurt them!”

“And I’m not, dearest” he assured her, reaching out to caress her face

She slapped his paw away. “Don’t you ‘Dearest’ me! Do you really think i’m that stupid?! You were going to kill them anyway, weren’t you? As soon as i said ‘I do,’ you were going to burn metaknight and the fairy queen, weren’t you?!”

“adeleine, you must understand” he fell to his knees. “If i let them live, they’ll stop at nothing to destroy our happiness! He took her hands in desperation “I did it for us!”

“Humph!” she huffed, jerking her hands away “I was willing to give you a second chance, and you continued doing evil behind my back! You’re never going to change! Not as long as you’re wearing that…that thing!”

She pointed angrily at the bell. Daroach held it protectively

“What are you saying?”

She sighed “I’m saying you must make a choice, daroach! It’s either that bell, or me”

He blinked “what?”

“That bell is making you do awful things, and all because you wanted power! I can’t marry someone who loves power more than his own wife!”

He seemed truly hurt by this declaration “Darling, you don’t seriously believe that, do you?”

“Well, if you had a choice between me and that bell, which would it be?”

He opened his mouth, but choked on his words. After a while, adeleine turned away from him in disgust

“If it’s that difficult a decision,” she said coldly, “Then I’ll make it easier for you”

“adeleine, wait!”

“Goodbye, daroach”

“Please, adeleine, I…I love you”

She crossed her arms as she started to walk away “I don’t believe you”

She shrieked as she was suddenly spun around to face him. Daroach’s eyes were glowing red and his teeth were gnashing together in fury

“Who says i have to make a choice,” he sneered, giving an eerie grin, “when i can have both?!”

“If you don’t step away from her now you’ll end up with neither!”

He looked up at the group standing before him: metaknight, the fairy queen, elline, claycia, ribbon, kirby, tiff, tuff, sword knight, blade knight, drawcia, paintra, and even escargoon. Daroach greeted them with a maniacal laugh

“You all really think you can stop me? Me?!”

“Get to the great crystal,” metaknight whispered to the fairy queen

Daroach chuckled as he watch the fairy queen rush behind the great crystal

“Go ahead. Touch that thing. See what good it does you”

The fairy queen paused and looked at her love in concern “it’s a trick”

“We have no other choice!” metaknight declared

She nodded and touched the crystals. Light pulsed through the gem around. The fairy queen opened her glowing white eyes as the great crystal’s magic pulsed around her. Everyone was blinded by a white flash that spread across the room. When the magic reached the outside, the populace and the squeakers ceased their fighting and dropped their weapons

When the light had diminished, the fairy queen’s had been restored to its former glory. The fairy queen was adorned in a glittering gown and a golden crown on her head. She looked at metaknight and frowned. He glanced down at his still wooden body

“I guess you still have to kiss me for this one” he shrugged

“Of course,” daroach cackled “that was the spell!”

The group were aghast when they saw that daroach had been untouched by the magical blast

“But you should be gone!” the fairy queen declared, rising to her arms “or at least mended!”

“You’re forgetting, my dear!” He taunted, holding up his bell “nothing can counteract the magic of the bell! sure, you can break a few of its spells, but not the bell itself! Now that the artist’s brooch is gone, i am invincible! You may won back the land of dreams, but i at least get a consolation prize!”

Everyone gasped as daroach swept his arms around adeleine and began backing away

“You can keep the kingdom!” he sneered “I don’t need it anymore! adeleine and i can start a kingdom all our own!”

“Daroach, let me go!” adeleine screamed, attempting to break free

“Turns out you’re going to get what you wanted, dear, your little friends get to live in their happy land, and we get to live in ours! Everybody’s a winner here!”

“No! Stop it!”

“Let her go daroach!” metaknight commanded, drawing his sword “There’s only one way you’re getting away with her!”

Daroach’s eyes glowed brighter “A duel to the death?”

The nutcracker nodded. “Let’s settle this rivalry once and for all!”

“Very well”

adeleine shrieked as she was sent hurdling back to the wall. She tried to move, but found herself paralyzed. Daroach pulled out his triple star rod. Some of the others, including the fairy queen, rushed to assist the nutcracker, but he held up his hand

“This is between him and me”

Daroach chuckled darkly “Couldn’t have said it better myself, nut boy!”

More of the citizens and some squeakers entered to see what ruckus was about. They all watched as the two foes clanged weapons for what might be the final time

“You may have taken back my kingdom,” daroach growled, “but you will not take my love from me!”

“Funny,” metaknight grunted as he blocked daroach’s blow “I believe i said something along those lines you took the fairy queen from me!”

“This is different!”

“You’re right. It is different. Because the fairy queen and i actually love each other!”

“You saying i don’t love adeleine?!”

“That’s why you want to marry her? You think you love her?”

“I don’t think! I do love her! And she loves me! At least she will! And we’re going to be happy! You hear me?! Very, very, happy!”

For a moment, the nutcracker almost felt sorry for him. Despite daroach’s mania, he sounded like he believed what he was saying

“Do you even know what true love is?” metaknight asked as their swordplay continued. “It’s about caring for somebody more than you care about yourself! It’s about being honest and compassionate towards each other! It about making sacrifices not so you can be happy together, but so the other can be happy! I've crossed realms and risked my life for the fairy queen! What have you ever done for adeleine?”

Daroach let out a furious cry and dropped his star rod. He held out his paw which he was glowing red in his eyes and tightened metaknight. He lifted the nutcracker into the air with a murderous growl

“Don’t you compare your love for the fairy queen and mine for adeleine!” he snarled “I may be a liar and a fink, but i mean it when i say that i love adeleine more than life itself!”

Metaknight glanced between daroach and adeleine, who still frozen against the wall. Then he glared defiantly at the squeak king as he raised his sword

“Prove…it”

Using all his strength, he thrust it past his enemy. Daroach spun around when he heard adeleine’s scream and dropped the nutcracker. The golden blade was hurdling towards adeleine, and thanks to him, she was unable to move!

“Metaknight, are you nuts?!” elline hollered

“adeleine!” daroach shouted “NO!”

Two voices argued in daroach’s head:

Let it stab her. She caused you nothing but trouble

Don’t do it! she’s the only one who understands!

She pretended to like you just to save her friends

She cares for you! She wants to help you!

She wants to change you!

adeleine looked up at him and gazed into those eyes that were once filled with sympathy. now They were filled with terror, adeleine closed her eyes, waiting for the blade's impact, and it broke his heart.

Go on. Kill her. Don’t you want ultimate power?

Daroach narrowed his eyes in determination

“Not…any…more!”

Once the decision was made, he let the blade fly

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Seeing you hurt makes me hurt; Aragorn x teen reader

*Author’s note*

This request comes from @panic-in-the-multiverse​  who wanted an Aragorn x daughter teen reader and so this was born. Now this is the first time I’ve ever written for Aragorn (at least in awhile) so please be nice and be kind (no tolerance for bullying here). So enjoy my lovelies and until the next update.

Warnings: blood, violence, near-death, fluff, bit of angst.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@queensdivas​

@queen-paladin​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@peter-parkers-cullen-nerd​

________________________________________________________

Todays the day, I can feel it.  The timing couldn’t be more perfect than this right now.  I was successfully hidden within the trees and right below me was the infamous Strider at the bank of the river refilling his waterskin.  Silently I climbed down the tree and stalked towards him like a wolf on the hunt.  I unhooked my horn and raised it to my lips but before I could blow into it he spoke up without even turning around to face me.

“Don’t even think about it.” I blew out a raspberry and hooked my horn back to my belt and sat down beside him.

“How’d you even know it was me?”

“I’m your father I know everything.” He said. “Now where have you been?”

“I thought you knew everything.” I mocked him.  To which he lowered his hands into the river and splashed me with it.  I let out a shriek at the cold water that hit my face and of course I never take a challenge lying down.  So I reached down with my hands and splashed the water towards Strider who ducked himself inward to avoid as much water getting on his face.

I laughed victoriously and that’s when we ended up spending the next several minutes in a water war with each other.

For those that are curious as to how I’ve come to be in the guardianship of Aragorn (yes I know of his true name. He kept it from me for a good few years though but that’s another story) it all began when I was but a small child.

I don’t remember much of my old home but I remember seeing a white horse on a green flag. But my village was ransacked by the Wild Men, they killed my father right as they came through the door and my mother told me to run and hide.  I did as I was told but I could hear and I remember them seeing her getting dragged off by the Wild Men along with some other women from the village.

I didn’t get very far when I was found by Aragorn.  I had ran as far as the wild plains when I spotted his campsite.  I tried to run but I had tripped and cut my leg pretty badly on the ground, and it was there he healed my leg up and after a while he gave me a choice; he could take me to the capital city of my homeland, or I could travel with him and he could teach me how to fight, hunt, track and heal others.  And I’m sure you know what I ended up choosing.

“Alright. Before we end up draining this river, we best continue on our path to Mirkwood if we are to take our prisoner there in time.” He told me.

“Right.”

“Which by the way you were supposed to keep an eye on him.”

“There’s no need. Ever since we tied him up with the Elvish rope he’s been writhing in agony. Plus I also put a shackle to his foot to ensure he couldn’t escape in case he was faking.”

“You’ve learned.” He teased as we walked back towards our campsite.  When we got back to where we had slept for the evening (after a nonstop 3 days travel ever since catching him), there tied and chained near a tree was the pitiful creature Gollum.  Writhing and hacking on his spit.

“It hurts us! It hurts us! Gollum! Gollum!”

“You’ll be fine stop your complaining.” I snapped as I went over to the tree with the keys and unlocked the shackle from the tree.

“Small girl speaks like nasty goblinses.”

“Call me a goblin one more time and I’ll show you what I can do!” I snapped at him.

“Easy Silent-stalk. Don’t let this creature get in your head.” He called me by my Ranger alias. I earned the name Silent-Stalk by the other Rangers (as well as my dad) when I showed them just how silent I could sneak up on my enemies.  Some would even say that I’ve been gifted with being part Elf since I’m so light on my feet.

“Yes Strider. My apologizes.” Aragorn then walked over and untied Gollum’s rope from the same tree and gave him a small yank, knocking him over to the ground.

“If you wish to keep speaking, it’d be wise to not antagonize my pupil. Next time I won’t be as merciless in letting her unleash her wrath if she deems to do so. Understood?” the creature Gollum panted and looked up at Aragorn with harsh eyes and continued to hack out it’s name.  “Is that understood?”

“Must not answer dirty, stinky Rangerses.” The creature hissed lowly.  We tacked up out horses and we proceeded onward to Mirkwood (and with any luck hopefully by nightfall we would arrive at the Elven Gate if we kept going like this).

As the sun was halfway down the sky, signaling that it was now mid-afternoon (I’d roughly call it about 3-4 o’clock in the afternoon maybe even 5).

“Now remember my child, the Woodland elves of Mirkwood aren’t like the Elves you’ve met in Rivendell and Lórien. It’d be wise to just allow me to do the talking when we are presented to King Thranduil.” Aragorn spoke to me in Elvish.

“Yes ada. But didn’t Legolas once hail from Mirkwood? And he’s not so bad.”

“He did but he left to become his own ellon after the Battle of the Five Armies. His father though now accepting of travelers into his realm still holds suspicions of their reasons for entering his realm.”

“Then it’s fortunate that you had already sent word to him telling us of our arrival with the creature, isn’t it?”

“It is indeed. But keep a sharp eye out. There is still many dangers we must be aware of.” I nodded in understandment and we proceeded onward.  Just like I had said, we soon arrived at the entrance of Mirkwood.

For the first time I took a look at the sickly forest that was once the Greenwood of old and I felt sick to my stomach at looking at it dead.  

Dead leaves scattered everywhere as far as the eye could see, the rich brown trunks were all but non-existent as they were dried up of any nutrients, and were shedding their barks in the most unnatural way you can think of.  And an eternal dark cloud hovering over the forest giving it that ominous feel to it.

“Should we cross it now?” I asked him.  Aragorn got off his horse and entered through the trees and walked around the gate’s entrance.  Moving aside dried up vines and leaves.  “Strider?” I called out to him.

“I think it’d best be wise we cross the forest at dawn. The darkness that lies within these woods are perilous enough, to try and brave them at night would be an impossible task. Not only to the Spiders still remain but rumors have said that orcs have been making their settlement in the Southern borders of this forest.”

I nodded and got off my black stallion and patted his shoulder to which he nickered.  Aragorn walked back towards us and untied Gollum from his stallion.  After he was able to rest, the creature lay there flat on the ground, his face in the dirt sobbing and pleading for us to release them.

“The sooner we’re rid of him the better.” I muttered as I walked over to him.  “At least the Wild men prisoners we’ve captured didn’t complain this much. It’s like trying to wrangle a whining toddler.”

“I understand your anger but you must not lose your patience as well. This creature is pitiful that much is true, but don’t underestimate your opponents.”

“Please. All this thing could do is whine and complain to the point where I’d go mad.”

“So much still to learn.” Aragorn said as he ruffled my head.  “Get a fire going, I’ll set up the bedrolls for the night. As well as manage him.” He gestured to Gollum.  I nodded and proceeded to gather up some firewood and started it up much like Aragorn taught me.

As we made camp for the night and I was boiling up some stew.  I took notice of just how low our rations were getting.

“You think King Thranduil would be willing to spare a couple of carrots, maybe even some taters? We’re just about to spend the last of our rations.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He replied.

“What’s taters precious? What’s taters?” Gollum asked me.  I then turned to him and emphasized.

“Po-ta-toes! Boils, mash em, stick em in a stew. Not only do I prefer them mashed but they go good as a nice crispy chip with a big plate of deer meat.” Gollum scoffed and cringed in disgust.  “Even you couldn’t say no to that.”

“Oh yes we coulds.” He whined.  Gods the sooner we’re rid of him the better.  I dipped the spoon into the stew and did a quick taste test.  I looked around the spice sack and dug up some left over basil leaves and sprinkled them into the stew before stirring it up again. I did another taste test and found the stew to be perfect.  “It’s ready.”

I grabbed Aragorn’s bowl and poured the stew into it and he came and took it just as I poured me some into my bowl.

“Grab the extra one and prepare him some.” He whispered to me.  I turned to Gollum and shook my head.

“He won’t take it you know?”

“It’d be a waste if he take him to Thranduil dead from hunger.”

“I say just let him perish.”

“Silent-stalk. You know we all need him alive. Now do as your told.”

“Yes Strider.” As much as I wanted to prove him right and argue all night with him about Gollum ‘picky’ eating, when he used his ‘father’ voice I knew there was no changing his mind. Grumbling under my breath I went ahead and poured some stew in one of the few extra bowls we carry, trudged over to the creature and dumped it at his feet.  “Eat.”

Gollum hissed at me and snarled.

“Nasty bad girlses poison it. She’s trying to poison us! Poison!”

“Please if I wanted to kill you I’d do it with my sword beheading you. Quick, swift and right to the point.” Aragorn glared at me while I rolled my eyes and went back to my stew.

“It’s nasty. No meats! No meats at all! She ruins it! Stupid, fat she-rangers! Gollum, Gollum!”

“You either eat or starve in the Woodland realm. Remember we gave you every opportunity to eat while you were in our charge. Thranduil is not as generous with his prisoners.” Aragorn told Gollum before taking a bit of his stew.  Gollum grumbled before taking the bowl and decided to just play with his food instead of eating it before he tossed it aside.  A good bowl of stew gone to waste.

“I told you he wouldn’t eat.” I muttered as I chewed up a potato piece before swallowing.

“Think you can take charge of watching over him?” he asked me redirecting the conversation.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“I need to look around later tonight to ensure we’re not being followed. You know Sauron’s spies are still trying to find him. For he’s the one creature who knows where the Ring is.”

“Why can’t I go scouting for spies and you stay with him?”

“Because I’m the oldest one out of the two of us and I know what’s best for you.” I softly whined. “It’s just for a few hours, I’ll try to be back as fast as I can, so can you try to keep calm until I return?”

“I can it’s just that he—” I groaned as I briefly looked at Gollum before turning away from him.

“Tomorrow we’ll be rid of him. Take comfort in that.” I softly huffed.  “And if you do a good job, we might head back to Rivendell and I can have the swordsmiths forge you a new sword that you’ve been asking for.”

“In Elvish make?”

“Lord Elrond has told me that if anyone is worthy to wield an Elvish blade, it’s you.” A little bribery eh? Well at least this once I’ll go along with it.

“You swear to me?” I questioned.

“When have I ever broken a promise to you?” never.  He extended his hand out to me and we both shook on it.

When nightfall came; Aragorn had left on his patrol leaving me alone with the creature Gollum. Whilst I was keeping an eye on him, I took out my daggers and examined them and saw they needed a good sharpen. So I grabbed some of my sharpening tools and began to sharpen up my daggers.

It was then I got a bit suspicious about what Gollum was doing.  His back was towards me but he kept reaching over grabbing whatever rock or stick he could reach and was silently muttering to himself.  I pocketed my daggers and silently withdrew my sword and stalked towards him.

Each step was silent and precise as I got closer and closer to the pitiful creature.  I then touched the blade to his neck and whispered darkly.

“Don’t. move.” Gollum stopped his movements but didn’t seem shocked or surprise.  “What are you doing?”

“She’d like to know. Yesssss…..nasty, rude girl would like to know whats we was doing precious? Then let us tell her whats she wants to know.” Suddenly dust and rocks were thrown into my face.  The dust and dirt burned my eyes as I tried to wipe them clean with my sleeve.

It was then I felt myself being tackled by the creature and I felt sharp teeth dig into the junction of where my neck and shoulder met.  The damn creature had bitten me!  I tried to fight back but Gollum managed to pin my arms down and bite down harder.

I screamed louder and that’s when I heard an angry exclaim and the weight was thrown off my body. My neck felt warm and sticky as my vision was starting to go blurry and I kept coughing up blood.

The last thing I saw was the bright silhouette of a figure standing over me and the sounds of Gollum roaring and pleading for his life.

When I awoke the first thing I felt was something soft underneath my back.  I slowly moved my hands around to feel the material around me was satin, or was it silk? I’m always getting this confused.  Anyway the next thing I did was try to open my eyes.

At first it was difficult because all I wanted to do was keep them shut but soon enough after blinking a few times, I managed to get them open.  I looked around to see that I was in a room that almost looked like I was in a cave of stone and wait was it also tree-like?  I also heard the sound of a calming waterfall and that’s when I saw a small fountain just on the other side of the room.

But what caught my attention was Aragorn who was sleeping right at my bedside in a chair holding my hand in both of his.

“Ada.” I softly whispered.  At the sound of my voice, he woke up and his body language showed immediate relief.

“Oh (Y/n), oh my little she-wolf. How are you feeling?”

“A bit sore but—I’m okay.”

“Oh my darling I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone with the creature Gollum. I should’ve been there to protect you.” I placed my other hand on top of his and I said.

“It’s alright. I don’t blame you. In the end you came back for me, just like you always do.” His eyes glistening with tears but a solemn smile softly spread across his face.

“I just…..” he reached up and cupped the side of my face.  “When I found you, all those years ago. Never did I think I would be—good enough to protect you. The life of a Ranger is perilous, filled with danger and heartbreak.”

“And I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world, even after knowing your true name.”

“But every time I see you hurt, it hurts me. And I feel nothing but self-loathing at the fact that most of the time it is because you are associated with me that you get hurt.”

“And the rest of that time it is because of my clumsiness and inexperience.” I cupped his face, the scruff of his beard softly tickling my palm and fingers.  “You always blame yourself every time I get hurt. But you’re always there to patch me up. It’s always been you to give me comfort whenever the pain was too much. And it’s always been you to give me words of wisdom to help me get back up.”

“I just feared this time would’ve been the last time.”

“But it wasn’t. And even if it was—know that I never would blame you. Nor could I hate you. So don’t keep trying to blame yourself for something that couldn’t be helped. No matter who it was that was watching Gollum.”

“When did you ever get so wise?”

“I learned from the best ada.” He softly smiled and leaned forward and kissed my brow before resting his forehead against mine.

“Pardon me Strider,” a female voice spoke up.  Aragorn separated from me and the red haired she-elf that stood at the door continued, “My King wishes to speak with you about the prisoner you’ve delivered to us.”

“Yes. Thank you Tauriel.”

“And you need not worry about your daughter, I shall check on her wound and see how the healing has progressed.” Dad turned towards me and I nodded softly to him telling him to go.  He pressed another kiss to the crown of my head before finally leaving my room.  “He has not left your side since we brought you here to our realm.” The she-elf Tauriel said.

“How long was I out?”

“Five days. For a moment we feared that we lost you, but you must be blessed by the Valar themselves to have survived such a wound. Especially with how deep and infected it was.” She said as she came up and sat down in dad’s seat.

“Guess I am.” She then asked me for permission to check my wound (which I gave her).  She applied more Athelas to it as well as some type of salve to it but she said it was growing less infected by the day.

After about a week of recovery, and getting fresh supplies from King Thranduil himself, dad and I packed up our supplies and we left the Woodland realm to wherever the wind took us next.

[esamastation]

Roy doesn't know exactly when the new alchemist joins them on the field.

It's a bad time - they're establishing a new camp in the town and the area is under constant assault, it seems. Small strikes on all sides, seemingly from nowhere, taking out a man there, another there, crippling a truck, taking out a road… The Ishvalans are using some sort of network of tunnels, the brass thinks, and it's Roy's job to smoke them out. So that's what he's been doing, seemingly all week… smoking out the supposed tunnels.

There are no tunnels, though. The Ishvalans are just getting desperate and in their desperation they're figuring out new methods. They have home field advantage and new tricks of camouflaging themselves in the rubble that used to be their home. Ruins of a people, blending in the ruins the Amestrians had made of their houses. They're learning to live with it, to work with it, because it's all they have - and they're getting good because they have little choice in the matter.

No one is listening to Roy when he points it out, though. There's a dismissiveness to the higher ups, when it comes to the evolution of Ishvalan tactics. "What are they doing now, praying for better guns?" As though this war, hasn't already gone on three times as long as originally projected.

Roy is thinking about it, staring at a crooked, unlit cigarette someone had put into his shaking hands, when he's introduced to the new alchemist.

"Good news, Mustang," Hughes says, with absolutely no joy in his cheerful smile, and less so in his cheerful voice. It sounds like he's chewing charcoal. "You're getting partner."

Roy looks up, his mind still in the meeting room, thinking about numbers on a map, how they didn't quite capture the reality of charred skeletons. It takes a moment for what he sees in front of him to sink in.

Another blue uniform, still pressed sharp and bright new under the beige overcoat that's supposed to protect it and it's wearer from the dust and heat of Ishval. What stands before him isn't a soldier though - it's barely a man. It's a short blond boy, no older than sixteen at most, with heavy non-regulation boots and silver watch chain at his hip.

The horror and disgust that wells up it's barely a blip before it's smothered under, oh, of course, and shit, are we here already? Then Roy stands up, puts the unlit cigarette away and holds out his right hand.

"Major Roy Mustang - the Flame Alchemist."

The blond boy smiles, crooked and sharp and just as mirthless as Hughes beside him. "Nick Flamel - the Fullmetal Alchemist." His grip is tight and brief, his hand gloved.

He'd be the newest youngest State Alchemist then. Roy had heard his record had been beaten, though he hadn't really paid attention to who or how.

Hughes looks between them and for a moment his eyes show a certain desperation. Then he covers it up and pats Flamel's shoulder. "Fullmetal here is stationed under you until he gets a hang of things - you'll show him the ropes, teach him what's what."

Keep him alive, is what Hughes' eyes say, and no wonder. Being as young as he is, the kid can't have much in the way of training. Alchemists don't need to go through basic, after all - they're not there to march or shoot guns or stand in lines. Flamel had probably just gotten his watch, his uniform, and a one way ticket to Ishval. To one of the worst, most contested zones at that. Shit.

Did the brass send the kid here to die?

"What's your specialty - metallurgical transmutation?" Roy asks.

"I don't have a speciality, really," Flamel says and pushes his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. It doesn't quite fit him right - too wide across shoulders, a bit too long. They'd either left some growing room, or they just didn't have a uniform small enough. "But I'm damn good at environmental alchemy, which I figure is what I'll be doing the most around here."

Roy blinks. "Environmental alchemy," he repeats.

"I can make the battleground my bitch," Flamel says, his crooked smile sharpening.

And abruptly Roy is already exhausted with the kid. He's one of those, then, a cocky little sumbitch, top of his class and talk of the town, so used to being the top dog of his little bubble that he has no concept of what the real world is like outside that little bubble. Guys like him come swaggering in all the time, all big talk and smug grins, so sure they're going to be carrying their little superiority complexes spotlessly over the finish line that they walk into the first fucking landmine that comes across.

Roy sees himself holding the kid's hand after he gets gunned down, still thinking himself invulnerable, and it's exhausting.

"What?" Flamel asks, suspicious at his silence.

Hughes, giving the kid the exact same look Roy must be, clears his throat. "How about you show us?" he suggests. "So we'll have an idea what we're working with here."

Flamel arches a brow at that and then looks around, light brown - or are they burnished gold? - eyes narrowing in thought.

Their camp is still a mess from the last attack - they're fixing the fences and filling the holes in the road that got busted in the smattering of mortar fire from two days ago. The perimeter is more secure now, for a given value of secure. They'd chosen the highest spot in the town, the temple mount, to give them a high vantage point - better than being penned into a valley. It leaves them pretty damn open though.

Flamel looks over the houses they'd taken over, the tents pitched in the streets and the flag of Amestris hung over the prayer hall, and clicks his tongue. Then he claps his hands together, and crouches down.

For a split of a second, barely a blink, it looks like he's praying.

Then he slaps his hands on the street beneath their feet - and in a crackle of alchemical energy and rumble of displaced earth, the street reforms. The dirt flattens, grows perfect paving stones, shifts to form neat walkways on the sides, even forming gutters. Between one breath and the next, they have a perfect Amestrian city street, formed from the dust of Ishval, surrounded by Ishvalan buildings.

While the soldiers on the newly reformed street let out shouts of shock, Roy just stares, his mind trying to jump hoops figuring out how the kid just did that. Circles in his skin, under his sleeves, inside his gloves…?

Hughes whistles, hiding his wild eyes in a squint. "Nice. You know, it doesn't rain much around here," he comments.

"So?" Flamel asks.

"The gutters aren't really necessary."

Flamel looks at the street he'd made, hands resting on his hips, and shrugs. "Eh, can't hurt," he says and motions at the street. "Anyway, imagine that, but spikes instead of paving stones."

Roy swallows and looks at the kid, who's just standing there, seemingly in no way bothered. Fullmetal doesn't look smug or proud of what he'd done, only grinning a little bit at the way the soldiers throw away their shovels, no longer needed. If this isn't something for the him to even brag about, then…

Roy has in his head an image of the kid doing a field of spikes under a charging assault force, eviscerating people by the dozens, and it's clearly not Flamel's only trick. It's probably not even in his top five.

Fuck, the kid would end up with a three digit death toll by his first engagement.

"Right," Roy says. He isn't sure what his face is doing but going Hughes' expression, it's probably not good. "You can make gutters. How about trenches?"

Flamel grins, his eyes like molten metal. "Try me."

-

By the end of the week - no, by the end of the day their camp is hugely improved by Flamel. The fence is turned into a solid stone wall, constructed within minutes from the remains of bombed out houses. Another pile of rubble is turned into a watch tower. They have trenches, they have pits, Flamel even adds a moat and spikes around the camp, like they're in an ancient fortress or something. Hell, there's even gargoyles in the corners of the wall.

They go from one of the least secure camps to one of the most heavily fortified seemingly overnight. It's a huge boost to troop morale - not so for Roy's sanity. Flamel doesn't even look winded by the end of his improvements.

"How are you doing the circles?" Roy asks finally - bit of a social Faux Pas among alchemists, especially military alchemists, but he has to ask. Flamel made entire buildings, and he hadn't stopped to draw a single sigil.

"In my head," Flamel says, shrugging. Like that makes any sense.

Roy looks at him and then at the changes he's made, and can't say it's impossible - he can see the results with his own eyes. And they're more than impressive, they're…

Flamel isn't going to be here long, he realises. Whether the brass send the kid here to get rid of him or not, the moment word about Flamel's real abilities spread, he'd be snagged by the first general with any fucking sense. The kid's a powerhouse. Roy is too, of course, that's why he's here - but Fullmetal is a different kind of powerhouse. Just by himself, he would be able to establish a secure foothold in the middle of enemy territory and that's not someone you just let sit idle.

Roy looks at the kid and feels torn between feeling sorry, jealous and a little bit bitter. If only he was a bit higher in rank, he could keep Flamel and make a full use his abilities - and maybe keep him from becoming a mass murderer in the process.

"What was your exam like?" Roy asks. There's no way the kid showed even a fraction of these abilities, he wouldn't be here at all if he had. "How'd you end up with a name like Fullmetal?" From what he'd seen something like Earth Moving or Groundbreaking would've been more apt.

"I made a spear in my exam," Flamel says, not looking at him. "And pointed it at Bradley."

"... And they didn't arrest you?"

Flamel smirks a little and looks at him. "What did you do?" he asks. "I bet you scorched something."

Roy had. He'd been welcomed in on the spot. "Training dummies," he agrees, giving him a pointed look. "Because I don't have a death wish."

Flamel shrugs. "It got me what I wanted," he says and stretches his arms. "So, what comes next?"

Roy looks at their newly secure camp. "Depends on the Colonel, but I bet you'll be doing more road work. We need a clear path in and out of the town."

Even though the town is officially theirs, that doesn't stop the guerilla attacks - but now, with a secure camp, all they needed was a clear path for troops to move in and then it'd be only a matter of time. If the two of them weren't already reassigned by then, they'd be after the supply line was secure. Alchemists weren't wasted in safe stations.

"But that's tomorrow's problem," Roy decides. "Come in, kid - let's get something to eat."

- - -

Nostalgia is doing rounds in my brain.

[ddarker-dreams]

Yan Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli, Beidou & Ningguang / Courting Darling.

Warnings: Stalking, implied blackmail, kidnapping, and gaslighting. Note: this is a bit of an amalgamation from different asks i’ve gotten, put into one thing bc i thirst for these six characters so hard .

Childe:

“What’s life without a little adventure? You can stand to miss work for a day or two, it’ll still be there waiting for you when we get back. People have even gone so far as to say I’m an absolute joy to be around. You want to know who said that? Sorry, that source is staying a secret.” 

Childe is an erratic whirlwind of highs and lows. You never know what to expect from him, and he likes it that way, always keeping you on your toes. He doesn’t bother with having his friendliness appear genuine. If you want to doubt his goodwill, then so be it, he won’t stop you. It just makes it all the more interesting to keep you around should you be wary of his presence. 

He doesn’t care for the traditional conventions surrounding romance. It isn’t his thing, and he’s used to being considered the odd one out of every crowd, so why stop now? Childe doesn’t tone down any aspects of his bloodthirsty personality in your presence. It’s difficult to tell how serious he’s being since most of it takes the form of jokes or other lighthearted jests. In his mind, the fact he’s even spending so much time with you should make it obvious he’s interested. Whether that’s good or not. 

You’re going to be dragged all over the place. Childe’s stamina is seemingly an infinite well, as he takes you from activity to activity. By the end of the day, you’ll be exhausted. Unfortunately, he doesn’t take no for an answer, weaseling his way into your schedule despite your protests. Childe is particularly fond of getting into situations where a fight is inevitable, purposefully taking you to areas with monsters to show off his combat prowess. 

“Did you get a look at that, [First]? Aha, I haven’t had this much fun in ages! You already want to head back? Hm, I don’t know, the night is still young. Stop dragging your feet or I might just have to carry you. Not that I’m complaining, should that be the outcome. It’s up to you. Oh! Now that’s the spirit! I’ll try not to be hurt by how fast you’re moving now.” 

Diluc: 

“Ah, [First], I take it you’re doing well. I couldn’t help but notice you eyeing this book at the market earlier. I’ve had a copy of it for ages, but with how busy things are, rarely do I have time to read. I’d be appreciative should you accept this and give it a better home.” 

Diluc is self-assured in many areas of his life, romance is not one of them. He knows how to carry himself in the company of businessmen, staying polite and vigilant, but this rigid method doesn’t work in his favor when it comes to wooing you. To soften the blow on his side, Diluc tells himself that it was never about a relationship anyway. That his main priority was and will always be to ensure your safety. He tells himself this, but... isn’t sure if he really believes it. 

He’s a perfect example of pining from afar. Subconsciously, he’ll drift towards areas you tend to linger around, hoping to spot you amidst the bustling crowds. Each time he tells himself that this’ll finally be the time he approaches you. The opportunity is set before him, waiting to be taken advantage of, but he rarely follows through with his desire. 

It frustrates Diluc to no end how easily others flock to you. He’ll stand there, still as a statue, eyes boring into whatever pest currently holds your attention. This would be the push to finally send him your way. It’s a surprise to you both when Mondstadt’s wine tycoon materializes by your side, politely asking to speak in private. Truth be told, he just can’t stand the thought of another person holding your attention that isn’t him. 

“I apologize for my abruptness back there. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you about for some time, and well... would you consider having dinner with me tonight? I’d appreciate your company.” 

Kaeya:

“It’s a funny thing, really. How we keep bumping into one another like this. Ah... that suspicious expression, it wounds me deep, sweetheart. When did you start looking at me like that, I wonder?” 

There’s no doubting Kaeya’s interest in you, from the first time he sauntered over to you and started a conversation. The problem you have is deciding how genuine his advances are. While Kaeya might not be the textbook definition of a heart-wrenching playboy, you’re familiar enough with the many rumors surrounding him to be wary. It doesn’t help that he’ll point this out to you when guessing the source of your apprehension. 

His methods are, oddly enough, effective. Kaeya balances the various aspects of seduction with ease. He reveals just enough about himself to draw out your attention, before focusing the conversation back onto you. You’ll never get to stop and realize how little you know about the man sitting in front of you, he makes certain of that.

Kaeya might hide certain aspects of himself, but his dubious morality is never concealed. He has you entirely wrapped around his finger, words validating his actions falling from his lips with the utmost ease; he’s a force to be reckoned with. You’ll start a conversation heated about something you’ve learned, only for it to end wondering why you were ever upset in the first place.

“Now, now, there’s no need to get all riled up over something like this. Don’t you trust me by now? When have I ever given you reason to doubt me? You need to take a look at the bigger picture. Hey, take a seat. I’ll sit here all night explaining to you if it’s necessary.” 

→[More underneath the cut].

Zhongli: 

“There must be something that I can assist you with. It may not look it, but I’m familiar with many fields of work, even obscure ones. Please allow me to lend a hand.” 

Zhongli, despite having been around for many centuries, is somewhat clueless in romantic pursuits. He’s aware of his fondness for you, but doesn’t know what to do with it. This leads him to becoming your shadow for some time. He focuses on what he knows best: observation and processing new information. Your every little movement will be analyzed and tuck into the back of his mind for later usage. 

Zhongli’s soft over the idea of you coming to rely on him for everything. He prides himself on his wealth of knowledge and work ethic, believing it a strong appeal, one that he puts on full display when you’re around. It’s not rare for you to overhear neighbors and friends speak highly about Zhongli. They’ll mention in passing how they were having difficulty with something, only for Zhongli to come around and help without asking for anything in return. 

This is exactly what he’s been hoping and waiting for. Zhongli has patience and sets himself up to be a desirable partner in your eyes, the efforts from his labor coming into fruition. Before you even speak to him for the first time, you’re likely to think highly of him, having heard all the ways he’s helped people close to you. Now that the stage is properly set, he’s ready to make his interest in you more evident. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, [First]. Oh? You can say the same for me? Well, I hope I can live up to your expectations. I had just been on my way to Yanshang Teahouse, would you care to join me? My treat, of course.” 

Beidou: 

“You haven’t lived until you’ve experienced a voyage with my crew and I. I’ll set up a nice cabin just for you, how does that sound? Hm? Special treatment? Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, lass.”  

Beidou’s attention is overwhelming and oftentimes dangerous. Traditional social conventions are nothing but a waste of time for her, meaning that common courtesy is disregarded in favor of always speaking her mind. Which might not be so bad if she wasn’t so amorous. Even the most oblivious person couldn’t miss Beidou’s overt favor towards you.

This reverent display of affection is only exacerbated when she’s drunk, face flushed and an arm swung tightly around your shoulder. She doesn’t care who sees, who’s judging, or what gossip will be born from her actions. Beidou makes a point of showing everyone in the vicinity that even if you aren’t officially partners yet, a claim has been staked on you. 

Whether it be coercion or some other unsightly method, Beidou is intent on bringing you on her ship at least once. Or that’s how she initially phrased it to you. Imagine your surprise, that when you finally caved so she’d drop the subject, her crew was untying the ropes keeping the boat at port. 

“The fun’s just getting started, you haven’t seen anything yet. Don’t get all teary-eyed yet, sweetheart, I know you’ll come around. This’ll be a story sung by sailors for generations to come.”

Ningguang:

“If I’m being honest, not many are given the opportunity to speak to me outside of business-related ventures. I never thought I’d find it this... pleasant. I hope you’ll continue to entertain me as you do now.” 

Ningguang starts off her wooing in a subtle, almost coquettish manner. She is confident in her charm and brilliance. Not many have been gifted in the art of conversation to the same extent Ningguang has, her silver tongue paired with quick intellect making it difficult for you to escape. She’ll corner you verbally without you even noticing it. 

Ningguang finds amusement in how you stumble over your words, pure of heart and not chained down by special interests. Your forthright but considerate demeanor intoxicates her. She’s used to people cowering in her presence or trying too hard to pursue their goals. You might even earn a rare compliment or two, disguised as politeness, that doesn’t register for hours. 

She is a lady of fine taste. The sky’s the limit when it comes to her wealth, which is unrivaled throughout Tevyat, and you’ll be quick to notice this. Ningguang is most partial to sending you traditional Liyue adornments, believing the rich culture behind each piece suits your beauty. She’s also fond of the fact that when you wear her gifts, everyone in the vicinity will know it’s from her, due to its extraordinarily high cost. 

“Do you like my latest gift, little dove? It was made custom with you in mind, an unrivaled display of craftmanship, if I may add. Wear this and carry me with you... always.” 

[let-them-read-fics]

Rivalries Of The High Seas

Requested By Anon: "Pirate AU, enemies to lovers."

AU: Pirate

Pairing: Captain!Rosé x Fem!Captain!Reader

Word Count: ~ 7,375

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Major Injury (Inflicted On Reader), Dangerous Situations, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Anon, thank you for this one! I've never seen the movie you mentioned in your request, but you did well in explaining what you wanted to see here. I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

PS ~ Captain Rosé could step on me and I'd say thank you

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Death isn't a new thing to you. It isn't some far-off, enigmatic fear capable of tearing down your psyche anytime the topic is brought up. In fact, you're faced with the harsh realities of it almost everyday, given your ranking. Even still, when you woke up this morning, you hadn't expected for the day to consist of you meeting your end. 

Your hands remain clasped together tightly, bound to the rickety wooden chair you've been securely strapped into by layers of rope and chains. Your wrists burn as the rough material pulls against your skin, surely leaving dark marks by now, but that's the least of your worries as you eye the bandits standing before you. Their faces hold smug grins, cheeks pulling back in eerie smiles to reveal crooked teeth. "I won't give you the pleasure of seeing me beg for my life. I accept my fate." You say bravely, holding your head high. 

"How noble, Captain." They sneer, leaning far too close for comfort. You fight the gag that works its way up your throat at the smell of them, the wicked stench burning your nostrils as it invades them. 

"Even if you escape now, the rest of my crew will come for you." Rosé finally speaks from behind you, sitting in the same state as you as she glares at the surrounding men. Her fingers futilely pull at your shared restraints for the millionth time, brushing along your wrist in the process. 

"It's cute that you think that matters. We'll be long gone by then."

Her head lightly pushes against yours as she leans back in her chair, seeking to evade the man when he enters her personal space. For some reason unbeknownst to you, your blood boils at his actions -- though Rosé is your enemy of sorts, seeing that she's a rival captain herself, you can't help but want to keep him away from her. 

The vile creature parts her legs with an evil smirk on his lips, his filthy hand groping her thigh as he runs his fingers along her beautiful skin. She whimpers in protest, growing afraid of what he'll do to her in her captive state. Had she been unrestricted right now, she would've most definitely cut his hand off, forever reminding the world of his misdeeds. 

"Just get it over with!" You shout angrily, voice hoarse from all the screaming you've done today. You've grown tired of the game they've been playing for over an hour, flipping between beating and ridiculing you relentlessly. 

"Alright, alright," their leader chuckles, putting his hands up as he approaches you. He instructs his men to be on standby, ready to gather around the two of you and hoist you into the air. They wait for the all-clear to throw you overboard and into the chilly sea below, full of creatures you've seen during your fateful adventures over the years. There are certainly worse ways to go, and you attempt to come to terms with what's about to happen. Perhaps this is a poetic end for you -- being laid to rest in the place that you've spent most of your life and made countless memories.

"Keep those eyes on me as you fall. I want to remember what it looked like to take down the infamous Y/N L/N." You narrow your eyes at their leader, grimacing as they scan over his greasy, jet black hair and tattered overcoat. Aren't the "bad guys" supposed to at least be stylish? He's a sorry excuse for one if so. 

"Kiss my ass." You utter, spitting at him. He lunges forward, just like you expected -- seriously, why are men so predictable? -- and takes the collar of your shirt between his fingers. He delivers a swift blow to your left cheek, only allowing you a second to recover before pulling your head back up to give the same treatment to the other side. 

You can feel Rosé tense behind you, doing all she can to reach for you and offer comfort. 

With a pained groan, you spit out a mouthful of fresh blood and raise your head to look at him again. "You know, you're not nearly as observant as you think you are." You smile, ignoring the pain that shoots through your busted lip. Before he has time to react, you raise your foot in one motion, swiftly connecting it with his crotch.  How could they neglect to tie your feet? That's practically Pirate 101.

He doubles over in an instant, lungs void of the air necessary to speak another insult in retaliation to your act and body incapable of any further movement. His men make the decision for him, taking this moment as a sign to follow through with their plan and throw you over. Shouts and cheers pierce through the air above you as you make your quick descent, not even having time to say a goodbye to Rosé or offer a final word to the universe. 

Cold water immediately rushes over your heated skin as you plunge into the waves below, its frigid temperature almost taking what little breath you managed to store away in your lungs. Aided by the water's altered state of gravity, you're able to work your hips past a few of the loosely tied ropes that rested against them. 

One thing you admire about Rosé is her quick thinking. She's smart -- while you distracted the leader, she took the opportunity to pry off some of the restraints that required more time and effort, just like you hoped she would. Her slender fingers inconspicuously wiggled their way out of the ropes before freeing you from them as well, and the bandits were none the wiser. Her previous actions make this part all the more easy, and after spending a while on the final ties, the two of you kick off of your chairs and head for the surface. It's a struggle, no doubt, with the way you have to fight to bring the chains up with you and keep them from pulling you further under. But eventually you reach the surface, once again filling your lungs with that miraculously fresh air that they so desperately craved. 

The saltwater stings as it flows over your face, getting in your eyes and rushing over all the wounds you've accumulated. Rosie sputters from beside you, struggling a bit to keep her head up, so you extend an arm for her to use to push herself up. You tell yourself you're only doing it -- that is, making sure she doesn't drown -- because she'll be useful in helping you survive. Deep down, though, your intentions extend further than that. 

Once you find a steady rhythm with the waves and the fear of drowning subsides for the time being, you scan the horizon line. "I see land -- over there." You say, using your head to point to what looks to be an island in the distance. "We'll swim when we have the energy and float when we need rest, okay?" She nods in response, and the two of you get set on your way. 

-----

Huffing from the pure exhaustion coursing through your bodies, you manage to drag yourselves onto shore before collapsing. The sand serves as a good place to lay, almost cradling you the longer you lay there. Tiny, rippling waves -- the aftershocks of much bigger ones -- lull into shore, fluttering past your ankles before being pulled back in by the tide. They lap against your skin, remedying your racing mind with their rhythm. Minutes pass in this cycle, setting you in a state of comfort before you remember everything you'll have to do before nightfall.

Once gaining enough strength, you raise your head and peek over at your rival.

She's sleeping. Of course. You can't blame her, but the sun -- once blazingly hot, perched high up in the sky -- is now setting, giving you a preview of the darkness that the night sky will hold. She turns, rolling her head towards you in her sleep, and you almost smile -- a light dusting of sand sticks to her puffed-out cheeks, and the bridge of her nose holds a small sunburn, making her look sunkissed and blushy. Y/N, stop that, you command yourself, shaking your head at your thoughts. She's your enemy, and she's the reason you're even in this mess in the first place. 

"Wake up," you nudge her, reverting back to your previously tense demeanor. The anger you possess for the situation you're in is returning en masse, wiping the pleasant thoughts of Rosé from your mind. 

She groans, keeping her eyes tightly shut as she attempts to ignore you. "Roseanne, we have to get up." Your voice is strong, commanding her just like your crew. Your crew, you think to yourself. Some of them were killed by the bandits while others were thrown into the prison chambers of your ship, left at the mercy of your enemies until they decide what they want to do with them. Your people are inventive and strong -- they'll likely find a way out of the sticky situation and reclaim victory. For now, though, you're left to worry about their fates as you attempt to survive on this island. If the elements and animals don't kill you first, the gorgeous woman beside you most definitely will. 

"I'm up!" She all but shouts, following another prodding from you. Her eyes flutter open and she instinctively raises her hand to wipe her face -- you catch the chains before they can make contact and harm her, and she sends you an appreciative look. "Guess I forgot about these…" she shakes her arms, jiggling your restraints in the process, "Oopsie."

"Come on." You say, standing up and pulling her along with you. Her dilly dallying is making you impatient, and it only increases your levels of irritation. You don't have time to waste. 

"We have to break these," she states the obvious, searching the shore for a decently sized rock.

A sarcastic gasp slips past your lips as you look at her. "You don't say! I was thinking we'd just leave them on." She turns to glare at you, narrowing her eyes as she stops walking. Dear god, there's no time for this. With a mumbled "here we go", you allow her to continue. 

"You know, we wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for you." 

"Me?!" You shout, completely taken aback. "Quite the contrary, Rosé. You're the one who led them to us!"

"If you would've accepted my offer, none of this would've happened. But you refuse to team up with anyone else. Look at where that got us now." She motions around herself to the island, expression settling back into an annoyed scowl as her eyes settle on you again. 

"It's not my fault that my crew is more trained than yours; I had no reason to merge our teams."

"An agreement would've solidified our strength!" She yells, stomping her foot into the sand. Her boots managed to survive the long trip here, but their material is completely soaked.

"I'm responsible for my crew, and my crew only. I had no decent reason to bring yours in with mine. It's just a liability and more mouths to feed." You say evenly, clenching and releasing your jaw a few times. 

She begins to fire off her rebuttal, but you tune her out for the most part and start walking further inland. She has no choice but to follow, and she does so while adamantly complaining. You throw occasional jabs to her arguments in order to keep her moving, and your plan works well. She's too busy bickering with you to notice that she's doing exactly what you want her to.

"...and you're so arrogant, Y/N! I mean, really. God, you're infuriating." 

"Are you done yet?" You ask, cocking your head to the side while you simply blink at her. She squints at you, about to give you another piece of her mind, but you glance down at the rock you led her to and she closes her mouth. 

"You can keep screaming at me or we can break these chains. Your choice." You shrug, pursing your lips. She cuts her eyes at you, but agrees with a huff, nonetheless. 

The two of you work together to find fittingly sized rocks, taking turns dropping them on your restraints and methodically working them against them. Eventually the chains give way, allowing your hands to wiggle out of their strict hold. You're the first to free yourself; once you're done, you find Rosé struggling in silence, refusing to ask for your help. 

"Here," you offer, extending a hand to her. Doing nice things for people without gaining something for yourself isn't something you do often -- you've been raised differently; grown more independent and self-serving after your time on the sea. 

"Oh, now you want to work together?" She quirks an eyebrow.

You put your hands up with an amused grin. "I don't have to help, feel free to do it alone." You stand, dusting the sand off of your clothes as you begin to walk away and investigate the island. She calls out behind you, annoyed shouts getting further and further away as you just smile and continue your journey. 

------

"Ah, glad you could join us again." You smirk, adding some kindling to the small fire you managed to set up during her time away. 

"Shut it," she bites back, glaring at you. 

"Tough crowd," you laugh, raising your eyebrows. For once, she doesn't say anything back. She busies herself with removing her shoes and socks, setting them next to the source of heat to dry before disappearing into the tree line. She returns a few minutes later, carrying with her a few different branches. Some of them are forked at the top, and she arranges them into a sturdy structure beside the fire as well. You try not to focus on how strong she looks as she does it, her muscles glistening in the fading evening light with a sheet of sweat.

To your surprise, she begins stripping. 

First her overcoat, which she drapes across the branch acting as a beam between the forked ones, and then her vest. She wrings them out individually, and you watch as the materials drip with what water hadn't already evaporated yet. The loose linen undershirt that she wears remains on, and you're thankful for that -- had she taken it off as well, you likely would've passed out. The blush on your cheeks deepens as you feel her eyes on you, and you keep your gaze trained on the fire. 

"Well? Are you planning to stay in those clothes all night?" She asks, running a hand through her hair to fix it and get some of the sand out. 

"If I didn't know better I'd say you're trying to get me naked, Rosie." You play, smiling harder when you see her roll her eyes and look away. 

"You wish," she scoffs, though you can see her stealing glances at you as you remove your clothes. She admires the shadows that the fire casts over your body, the flames dancing as they offer their beautiful warmth. The two of you go way back, having grown up as frenemies due to your professions, but she's always had a soft spot for you. You piss her off to no end, and yet somehow she can think of plenty worse people to be stuck with.

After catching her staring, you decide to tease her. You flex your muscles, making sure to be extra and really make a show of it. She blushes, hiding behind her hands to escape the situation. 

"Awww, somebody's shy." You say, chuckling at her. 

"Am not," she protests, though her sheepish grin sells her out.

"Prove it," you challenge, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Teasing her is one of your favorite pastimes. 

Tired of the games, she gathers all of the courage she possesses and stands, slowly sauntering her way over to you. Your eyes take in the sight of her, and she smirks; she works hard to stay in shape, and she knows she looks good. Countless weeks spent at sea, working alongside her crew on long voyages has left her with artfully tanned skin and a physique to die for. You go to compliment her, but she stops you before you have the chance, pressing a finger to your pursed lips. She trails it lower, blazing a path across your jawline and chest, stopping at your ribs. Your breath hitches, and she definitely feels it. You curse yourself for being so easy, already knowing what's coming. 

"Who's shy now, sweetheart?" She purrs out, smiling victoriously. 

How she's capable of switching demeanors so easily baffles you, but it ensures that no interaction with her will be boring, if nothing else. 

"Yeah, yeah," you grumble, pushing her away to break the growing tension. She's looking at you with some glint in her eye that you can't quite place -- all you know is that if she keeps doing it, things might escalate to a place neither of you are prepared for.

You clear your throat and step around her to adjust your clothes on the drying rack. "You can go ahead and sleep. I'll stay awake and keep the fire going."

She nods with a slight frown on her lips, though you don't see it. "Alright. But wake me up when you get too tired, okay?" You assure her you will, though truthfully your body is aching for sleep right now. The beating you took earlier did its worst on you, leaving your skin bruised and muscles knotted. She deserves to rest, though, and you're okay with giving her the first shift of it. Besides, your mind would surely keep you awake for the better part of an hour -- at least it'll be used to its fullest with her. 

What you don't realize, however, is that when she lays down beside you, cuddling into the sorry attempt for a bedroll that you threw together, she merely pretends to fall asleep. Likewise, when she settles her head in your lap, searching for a more comfortable place to lay it, she's fully conscious. She lazily smiles when you run your hands through her hair, wrapping the locks around your fingers in mindless patterns before releasing them and starting over. It's soothing, and soon enough she calms her eager heart enough to slip away to dreamland. 

--- A Few Days Later --- 

"Wakey wakey…" Rosé sing-songs, hovering over you. The two of you have settled into this familiar rhythm over the past few days, spending the daytime searching for food and supplies and taking shifts to sleep through the night. You've almost always ended up taking the latter opportunity, though sometimes Rosé would force you to rest first if you needed it badly enough. 

"Mmm," you groan in disapproval, rolling over. The sun is far too bright, and your upgraded bed situation is much too comfortable to offer any valid reason for you to leave it. Rosé knows how difficult it is to get you up, but she's learned some very useful tactics. 

"Y/N…" she drawls, voice like honey as it releases your name with care. Her lips are next to your ear, teasing you as her warm breath fans across your neck. You audibly swallow, not prepared for that in the slightest, and slowly peek your eyes open. She raises a hand to shield your face from the unforgiving sun, and you smile at the domesticity of the act. She looks like a dream -- her hair is fanned out, swaying peacefully in the calm breeze that rolls in from the sea, and she's grinning that killer smile down at you. Her previous sunburn has turned into a tan now, making her look even more irresistible somehow. 

"What do you want to do today?" You ask, lacing your fingers together as you put them behind your head. They work as a cradle, cushioning your head from the sand.

"I saw some berry bushes on the north side of the island. They didn't look like any poisonous kind I've studied about, so maybe we could check them out?" She suggests, sitting back on her knees with a quirked brow. 

"Sounds like a plan." You smile lazily, gazing up at her. A light pattern of freckles paints her cheeks, and you can't help but grin at how adorable she is. 

"What is it?" She asks skeptically, squinting at you. 

"You're just too cute for your own good, is all." You sigh, content as you stand up and tug a blushing Rosé behind you. She closes the "door" behind herself, sealing off the entryway to your humble abode. It's a panel of leaves and sticks, built to be sturdy yet lightweight and easy to move. She built it herself, and a sweet smile works its way onto her lips as she remembers the praise you sent her way after she presented it to you. 

--------

"If you don't slow down then I'm gonna slap you," she says, peering up at the trees that loom high overhead. In her distracted state, she neglects to look where she's going.

Her rambling is cut short by your hand darting out in front of her, effectively stilling her movements and words. You glance at the ground, prompting her eyes to follow the path they made and widen upon realizing what you just saved her from. An animal -- some wretched cross between a scorpion and pincher beetle -- continues its trip across the downed log that lays in front of you, menacing in its appearance. 

"Thank you," she breathes out, leaning into your side as you hold her and direct her away from danger. 

"Do me a favor and don't die, okay?" You quirk, scrunching your face up at her humorously. She shoves you, holding up her middle finger as she walks ahead and blazes a path for the two of you. You chuckle, grinning stupidly as you follow after her. 

--- 3 Hours Later --- 

"Take cover," you shout to an imaginary army, seeking refuge behind the base of a large tree. Rosé chuckles maniacally from behind one of the berry bushes, her fingers lightly stained from the juices that are running down her palm. 

"Nice try, Y/N. But you can't escape… CAPTAIN ROSÉ!" She shouts, surprising you as she charges in your direction, pelting you with berry after berry. You squeal, evading as many of the makeshift missiles as you can by darting behind different greenery. She eventually catches up, snaking her arms around your waist and preventing you from getting away again.

"NO!" You exclaim, slumping further into her arms in defeat after your attempts to escape prove futile. She spins you around to face her, pressing your back up against the nearest tree as the two of you practically double over with laughter. She looks ethereal, with how she shines in the sunlight that sneaks its way through the canopy of tree tops above you. Her eyes are almost closed from how hard she's smiling at you. 

A sharp growl breaks the happy moment, perking your ears up and causing your heart to race for a different reason entirely. You glance around the tree, protectively stepping in front of Rosé to shield her from any new threat. An animal -- something you've never seen before -- bares its teeth, snarling aggressively as it sets its sights on you. Your blood runs cold in your veins, stopping your heart momentarily as your brain attempts to formulate a plan on the fly. With only a few precious moments left before it attacks, you glance around for anything to double as a weapon without making any sudden movements. 

Rosé is clutched onto you from behind, and you can feel her heart beating wildly. You have to protect her, no matter what. 

"On my count, I want you to climb into this tree. I'm going to try and defend us." From what little knowledge you've inferred in the past couple minutes, you doubt the animal is capable of climbing well; it doesn't have the body or feet for it. You fear it is capable of running quickly, though, so the tree is likely your best bet. 

"What? No, I'm going to--"

"Roseanne, please, for once, just do as I ask. Trust me." You plead over your shoulder, noting the slight tremble that runs through her as another roar echoes out. Your eyes remain trained on it, never backing down for a second. 

One steadying breath later, you shout, "Now!" and swoop down to pick up what helpful materials you can. You charge at the animal, taking the offensive in order to keep as much distance possible between it and Rosé. You successfully jab the sharpened stick into its side, causing it to wail in pain. In an instant it grabs your arm, wrapping it's paws around you as it lunges forwards and tumbles to the ground on top of you. A scream leaves your lips as you watch its teeth dig further into your flesh, garnering deep crimson blood to spill from your developing wounds. You protect your neck with your other arm, only breaking this rule to reach to your side and retrieve the heavy rock you brought along as well. It connects with the side of the animal's head, only making it whimper before loosening its grip the slightest bit. You weren't prepared for it to be such a tough enemy. You use your strength to roll it over and sit on top of it, keeping your arm in its grip to ensure that it stays occupied. Your fingers dig into every sensitive part of its body you can reach, performing the defense moves you've spent your life practicing to use. With a glance at Rosé, you find her safe in the tree, just like you wanted. 

"Run!" You shout, willing to keep the creature distracted in order to give her time to escape. Before you can see if she listens to you, it's nails claw into your abdomen, scratching painful designs into the previously smooth skin. It performs another death roll, and you barely have the strength to shank it in the side again. It howls, rearing back to go for your jugular before its movements are abruptly cut short. An unsettling crack rings out above you, and you open your eyes after not receiving the fatal blow you had been expecting. The animal scampers away from you, limping off further into the forest until it's out of sight. 

Rosé drops the large branch in her hand, the end of it lightly stained with blood. "Go..." you weakly mumble, eyes beginning to flutter closed as you notice how much blood you've already lost. You feel cold, and you have to fight the shiver that runs through you.

"I've got you, Y/N." She whispers, cradling your fragile frame in her arms as she picks you up and begins the journey back to camp. "You did good." She reassures, having no idea how much you needed to hear that before falling unconscious. 

---------

After gathering the medicinal plants and resources that the two of you have accumulated so far, she returns to the fireside, settling down beside you. She raises your shirt enough to have access to your wounds, but not far enough to expose you. Temperate water meets your bloodied and broken skin, rushing over the sensitive areas as she gently cleans them. Once dry, she mixes the materials into a sort of salve to rub on them before laying the plants on them in place of bandages. 

The crackling of the fire works with the crashing of distant waves to serve as background noise, making the night far more peaceful than the day had been. She allows you to continue resting, knowing you need all of it that you can get. 

About an hour or so later you wake with a start, hands reaching out as if you were right back in front of the animal. Your dreams were plagued with images of the nightmarish beast, and you're having trouble adjusting to the fact that they were all in your head. They felt so real. Rosé is by your side in an instant, brushing your hair out of your face with one hand while caressing your thigh with the other -- it's one of the only places that made it out of battle relatively unscathed. Your panicked eyes find hers, glazed over with tears as you pull her flush against your body, glad to know she's okay. Her warmth reminds you that she's here, that she's real, and that she's safe. 

Memories of your fight come flooding back, filling your mind with the terrifying things you witnessed and reigniting your fight or flight response. You remember that she didn't listen to you -- she put herself in harm's way instead of leaving you behind, like you asked -- and you grow angry. Muttered phrases of disapproval leave your lips as you push her away, stumbling slightly when you try to stand on your own. Although confused by your erratic behavior, she reaches out to assist you, only to be met with a harsh refusal from you. 

"Stop!" The word comes out as an angry shout -- louder than you originally intended -- but you can't find it in yourself to apologize right now. You find your footing after a moment, holding your side as you walk away from her. 

"What's your problem?" She shouts, marching after you. She refuses to let this go without a fight, seeing as how she has plenty more questions than answers now.

"You could've gotten hurt, Rosé, and I could've handled it on my own." You say over your shoulder, continuing on your journey away from camp. Her relentlessness is quickly getting on your nerves.

"Clearly you couldn't! You needed help; why are you denying that?" She stops now, crossing her arms angrily with her brows furrowed. The fact that you're still so set on clinging to your pride is pissing her off. 

"You should've left me there! I can't have you getting hurt because of me." You turn around now, setting your jaw. Is she really this blind? This has nothing to do with your pride. Her eyes meet yours, the pools overflowing with confusion as they scan over your face in search of clarification.

"I can handle something happening to me; I've made my peace with that. But if something ever happened to you because of my incompetence…" you shake your head at the mere thought of that, momentarily too overwhelmed to continue, "...I wouldn't know what to do with myself. I care about you, idiot." You add that last line before turning around, not bothering to wait on her reaction. Part of you is scared to, honestly, and the day has been far too eventful for you to handle a potential rejection on top of everything else. 

She says nothing, leaving the air around you void of her beautiful voice, and you don't know whether to be thankful or disheartened. 

You put more distance between the two of you, leaving a stunned Rosé in your wake as you find a place to sit along the shoreline. Your temper -- more precisely, the fear you hold that presents itself as anger -- reared its head tonight. You didn't mean to snap at her like that, but the possibility of her getting hurt because of you makes your blood boil. That would be unforgivable, and you wouldn't be able to live with yourself. You felt helpless earlier, quickly running out of the strength required to keep her safe.

Salty tears manage to break past your line of defenses, much like Rosé has managed to do with your heart. She's torn down every wall you've ever put up to protect yourself, and now that she's there you don't know how to cope. You've had people you considered close before, but none of them have mattered like she does. You've never been so afraid of losing someone. 

A soft hand on your shoulder makes you jump slightly, pulling you from your thoughts. Speak of the devil.

"Hey." She says simply, sitting down beside you. You turn your face away, not wanting to let her see you cry. "I'm sorry for fighting, okay? But I'm not sorry for helping you. I care about you, too, and I'll be damned to just leave you like that." She doesn't say anything else, doesn't try to make you look at her -- she just sits there, waiting for you to be ready to do so on your own. 

She's waited on you since you were teenagers, so she figures she's capable of waiting a bit longer now. Both of you are aware of the love you hold for one another; this is just the hardest part -- finally admitting it. 

"I can't lose you," you whisper, eyes full of tears that occasionally roll down your cheeks once gravity finds its footing. You turn to the front, still too emotional to look into her eyes. 

"Ditto. That's why I did what I did." 

Your knees are raised and pulled in close to your body for security, your arms wrapped around them to keep them in place. She reaches over to rest her hand on yours, wordlessly coaxing you into looking at her. 

"I…" You pause, voice breaking with the emotions you're still reeling from. 

"I know." She says, resting her forehead against yours. 

"I love you, too." 

She pulls you in, making sure to be gentle and not injure you any further. She raises your head to press her lips against yours, tasting the faint hint of wildberry that still rests on them from earlier. It's slow and new, giving you a break from the intensity you've been dealing with the past few days. You tilt your head to the right, letting out a whimper as her fingers graze a bruised spot on your ribs. She gives you another peck before pulling away, determined to stop herself while she still can. You're addicting, and she already can't get enough of you. 

A beat passes between you, giving you time to sort the thoughts rushing around your mind. "I've always loved you." You admit, pulling back to look at her. Tears well in her eyes, shining brightly in the brilliant moonlight as they threaten to fall. 

"Ever since we commanded our own boats for the first time. Mine was better, of course," she laughs at that, smiling despite herself, "...but I knew you were different then. I've spent all these years being too stubborn to let myself have you." 

She takes your words in, her heart pounding victoriously in her chest at your confession. "I knew when we were still training together. You always made things better for me then; I was so thankful to know you. Even if we teased the hell out of each other." 

You grin at the countless memories that come to mind. "Do you remember that night at the docks, after we graduated from our classes?" She looks up, searching her memory vault. "When you kissed me?" She asks. You nod, looking down with a bashful smile. 

"I knew we wouldn't see each other for a while, so I wanted to make it count."

"You made it really hard to say goodbye, you know?" She says, her eyes softening as she looks at you. 

"I know. But you get half of the blame." 

She tuts at you, nudging you playfully. You hiss in pain, causing her to bring a hand up to cover her growing smile. "Oops. Sorry, not sorry." 

"If I wasn't hurting so bad I'd tackle you right now." 

"Oh, I'm so scared." She laughs, mocking you. 

"That's it," you declare, ignoring the pain that shoots through your body with all the moving you're doing. Her laugh practically heals you anyway, so it's not hard to push it from your mind. You press her into the sand, rolling over to straddle her hips and pin her hands above her head. 

"Woah, tiger. Don't hurt yourself." She raises her head as much as her restrained state will allow, coming dangerously close to your face. 

"You're such a dork." You tut, leaning in to capture her lips once more. She mumbles out a, "you love it, though" against you, and your heart can't help but soar. 

- A Few Weeks Later -

A soft melody rides along the airwaves towards your ears, persuading you to wake up from your cozy slumber. You cuddle further into Rosie's tempting embrace, smiling at the way she pulls you impossibly closer. Her throat wiggles as she hums out a familiar tune from your childhood -- one of the songs you used to dance together to. 

"You big softie." You coo, resting your chin on her chest to look into her eyes with a smile. She grins, finally peeking at you through her lashes. 

"Good morning, beautiful." She says, her accent coming through adorably. She pulls you up to her lips for a kiss before rolling you onto your back. 

You sigh as she leaves open mouth kisses to your neck, dragging her lips over the skin there lazily. She takes her time, leaving marks here and there to show the world who you belong to. Her hands skim over the warm skin of your abdomen, finally free of the intense wounds you've been recovering from. Only small scars are left now, serving as a testament to what you endured.

"Mmm, I'm hungry. Let's go get something to eat." She chuckles at that, her head falling forward to rest against your shoulder as her body shakes with laughter. 

"You're thinking about food while I'm kissing you?" She grins, propping herself up on her arm to look down at you lovingly. 

"What can I say? I'm a hungry girl." You kiss her cheeks, ghosting your lips over hers. "Although," you tease the corner of her mouth, "...you're looking pretty tasty right about now. I might just eat you instead." 

She squeals as you crawl on top of her, pretending to bite her skin as you tickle her sides. 

"I surrender!" She shouts, finally giving into you. You kiss her one last time before pulling away and practically dragging her out of the structure. 

"I'll get started on cooking the fish if you grab some water." You offer, rustling through your handmade crate for the skewers you use to prepare food. 

"Alright," she nods, kissing you on the cheek before grabbing your canteens and setting off towards the freshwater spring not far from camp. 

"Be careful!" You call out after her, smiling when she turns around to face you with her hands in the form of a heart. 

---------

"Good job baby. That was delicious." She compliments, leaning back against the log you use as seating beside the fire. She almost always opts to sit in the sand and rest against it for some reason, but you're long past questioning her at this point. Rosie's… unique. 

"They don't call me Chef Y/N for nothing." You quip, holding your head higher with a sense of self-importance. 

"They don't call you that anyway." 

"Hey," you pout, slapping the back of her head with no real force. "Let a girl pretend, would you?"

"Fine, my apologies." She smiles again, and you can't help but do the same. You've lost count of how many times she's made you laugh over these past few weeks, and although you hope to be rescued sooner rather than later, the thought of being stuck here with her for a while longer doesn't seem all that bad. 

"You're doing it again," she trails off, wiggling her voice up and down to tease you. 

"What?" 

"Looking at me like a lovesick puppy." Her eyes shine in the warm, tropical sunlight, pools of rich amber that you wouldn't mind getting lost in. They match the color of whiskey almost perfectly.

"Not my fault. Have you seen yourself?." She scoffs, but blushes nonetheless. You lean over to press a kiss to the top of her head affectionately. 

Your attention is stolen away all at once as you hear the words you've been imagining ever since you arrived on the island. "Land, ho!" Multiple voices bellow out in the distance, prompting you to search for their source. Collective cheering can be heard, and you swiftly stand -- as if that simple act will miraculously enable you to see better. 

"We're coming, Captain!" Jisoo, your second in command shouts, seemingly hanging off the bow of the ship -- your ship. A squad of others follows behind, maintaining a tight formation as they make their way to shore. 

"Us too, Captain!" Someone calls from one of the neighboring boats, apparently one of Rosé's crewmembers. She waves back excitedly, and you bite back the smile that tugs at your cheeks. 

Eventually they reach land.

"Y/N!" Your scout, Lisa, shrieks like a schoolgirl, running into your arms eagerly. She was the first friend you ever made during your training years, long before you met Rosé, and you were truly worried for her.

"Ah, Lisa. Jisoo." You look between the two of them proudly, glad to see them alive and well. "What happened?" 

"We managed to defeat Captain Crusty's men--" she stops to explain when she notices your brows furrowed in amused confusion, "--that's the nickname we gave the bandit leader. Anyway, we defeated them and repaired the ship enough to make it back to shore. They did some major damage, though." 

You nod, satisfied with their story, until you remember that they didn't come alone. You subtly motion your head to the other crew, and Jisoo gets the memo. "We found the rest of these pea-brains back at the docks and they insisted on coming along."

"Hey, it's not like we wanted to be stuck with you either!" Jennie, Rosé's second, hits back, defending herself and the rest of her crew. "If your moron captain would've listened to Rosé we wouldn't be here, and we wouldn't have lost anyone in the process." 

"Quiet," Rosé warns, stepping in front of her to block the two sides from each other.

Despite knowing it isn't technically your fault, Jennie's words do hold some truth. You feel guilty for all the senseless violence you could've potentially spared your people from enduring, and the what-ifs weigh heavily on your mind and heart. 

"So long as I'm still in charge, no one will disrespect Y/N or her crew. Are we clear? I won't take kindly to any of you going against me." It's a heavy warning, and her tone makes it clear that she'll be true to her word. They know better than to test her. Her eyes scan the group of misfits, all looking bewildered by her sudden change of heart. It must be a bit jarring for them, after being such bitter enemies with the others for so long. Regardless, scattered nods and grumbles of acceptance leave them before they all scurry away to get started on their tasks, looking like scolded children. 

You send Lisa and Jisoo along with the rest of your crew to go ahead and board again, seeing that you have no real equipment to pack up this time. It feels wrong to leave the island  -- the place that brought you back to Rosie and allowed you to open your heart to her -- without something to remember it by. So, with a whispered, "Wait here," you run back to camp to snatch something. 

You return soon after, a huge smile plastered on your face. "You're bringing our door?" She laughs, tilting her head at your strange choice. 

"Duh. Good to know your eyes still work, I was getting worried." You tease, giggling as she pinches you. 

"Come on baby; let's go. Last one there has to clean the poop deck." 

"Get back here!" She yells, chasing you into the chilly water with a smile. Whether she loses or not doesn't matter much to her -- she finally has you after all these years, and she can't wait to see where the future will take the two of you. 

[yandere-sins]

Hi!! I loved your recent Sakusa work sm! It was so good and intense and you did a great job!! I was wondering, if the requests & prompts are still open can you do board games & diary for either Sakusa or Atsumu! I’m fine with either one <3

Sorry, I am just too much into both to separate them! Enjoy some good ol’ manipulated double-teaming!

Board games - “Don’t say such means things.. it breaks my heart to put you back in those locks.” 

Diary - “My pet should hold no secrets from their owner and vice versa.”

»»———————— ♡ ————————««     

It was a hard pill to swallow, but you had to admit that you were growing desperate.

For more than a week now, you had been in the clutches of these two maniacs, had to live through ups and downs with them and alone. Yet, there still didn’t seem to be any signs of an end to this nightmarish episode you were going through. Slowly but surely, this meant you were desperate for change. For something - anything! - to happen, just so all of this would finally end.

You found yourself desperate for the comfort of a bed, the privacy of your own toilet, the warmth of a sweater. Sometimes your mouth remembered your favorite dishes, and your heart remembered the feeling of hugging someone dear to you. And, every time you found yourself craving the same as you had before your life went downhill, all you were faced with were two psychos using your needs for their own gain.

At least, that’s what you thought about this situation.

“Come on! It’s good!” Atsumu tried to make the spoon of soup palatable for you, as he had for the last two days. He did his best, but his best wasn’t good enough for you. Lips pressed together into a thin line, you kept avoiding the spoon, going as far as to dodge and move out of the way of his reach. You’d rather fall to the floor than sit on this couch and eat the damn soup, you decided. Were you not too afraid of the other ghost in this apartment, you would have tried making a run for the hallway and the front door, but they were too unpredictable.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” you sobbed, the frown on your face holding back the tears you felt burning in your eyes ever since you woke up in this place. “We’ve been friends since our childhood! But I guess I didn’t mean anything to you.”

Finally slipping out of his grip, you fell to your knees, the cold, hard parquet being as unwelcoming as you felt. Atsumu’s disgruntled deep breath was absolutely unjustified how you found. After all, he wasn’t the one being held captive against his will. Of all the people, you were the only one allowed to showcase your discontent like that.

Next to you, Atsumu set down the bowl of soup on the coffee table, a strong, firm grip reaching down to the rope binding your wrists behind your back. Anything was better than letting him do as he pleased. Kicking, screaming, and biting if necessary! But by now, you two were playing a meager game of who was stronger, the lack of sustainable food and rest being one reason why you didn’t always have the upper hand in these situations; thus, he pulled you up on the couch again easily.

“Don’t say such mean things... you mean everything to me, [Name].”

This assurance was least helpful to the constant anxiety raging through you. Before all this, you had trusted Atsumu with everything. You’d been the best friend one could have, got along well with his family. It had been bold of you to assume that he was capable of anything beyond complaining to and nagging you, but you always hoped that he’d one day come to understand the feelings you harbored for him.

But not like this. You didn’t want to be loved by him like this.

“Be nice, or I’ll have to put you back in those metal locks. It would break my heart, and you don’t like them either, do ya?”

You shivered just from thinking about the chains clasping around your wrists and ankles, cold and tight. You hated them, just as much as the cage you had been stuck in for the first few nights. Everything kept you in place. You couldn’t even turn if you wanted. It was followed by constant pain, and having someone treat you like a caged animal rather than a human while you were in there, was only the cherry on top.

Compared to that, just hanging out in the living room with ropes around your wrists was freedom. “No,” you whispered, the fight not having disappeared from your voice, and you were relieved to still have it in you. “See?” Atsumu sighed, pulling you back on the couch and between his legs, arms wrapping around you and keeping you pressed up against him. “It’ll be fine,” he mumbled, kissing the back of your head.

“Just don’t upset him.”

“Upset who?” another voice echoed through the room as if on cue. Instinctively your eyes followed the sound to the kitchen. Through the connecting door to the hallway, Sakusa entered, newspaper in hand and seemingly reading an article on it. “Nobody,” Atsumu was quick to avert, but you had felt the slight flinch he made when his partner spoke up.

“Did they eat?” Sakusa asked, unbothered by the angry glare you sent him and Atsumu’s lie, setting down both paper and coffee mug on the kitchen counter before shifting his attention to you. Three long steps were all he needed to approach the couch from behind, fingers flitting up your throat and to your jaw as he grazed you with a short glance before eyeing the bowl on the table.

“Done with work?” Atsumu asked, pressing you possessively closer to him, but it wasn’t like he could upset Sakusa with his doings, even if it was his intention. “Taxes, Atsumu, but yes. They didn’t eat?”

At that, Atsumu finally had to admit defeat, sighing and averting his eyes to some point in the room but far away from you or his partner. Sakusa let out the same sound, though quieter and with a shook of his head before rounding the couch and grabbing the bowl himself. “Why won’t you eat?” he asked, directing his questions to you now. “You should be thankful for the food you are given.”

“I don’t want it,” you replied, as confident as you could. The truth was that whenever your eyes met, you felt as if any strength you had was pulled from you. It may have been due to the fact you had argued and pleaded with this man for the first few days of your kidnapping, but out of the two, Sakusa was the one that scared you more than your childhood friend who had no backbone, joining forces with this madman.

Letting the soup slide over and from the spoon a few times, Sakusa eventually took a small sip of it, his thoughts hidden well behind the indifference in his expression. “There’s no reason for you to not eat it. It’s completely fine.”

“I don’t want it since it’s you giving it to me.”

Silence raked through the room while Atsumu shuffled behind your back, pressing you closer again. For a moment, you thought this time, it might be to protect you, rather for his own pleasure, and you were quick to realize why. “Are you an idiot?” was Sakusa’s short yet meaningful reply to your defiance, his face scrunching up into disbelieve. “Other people would be happy to have this kind of luxury of being fed.”

“Omi...” Atsumu tried to settle the rising dispute, but a raised hand from his teammate was enough to shut him up uncomfortably. “I’m not other people,” you spoke up for yourself, trying to stay calm and not let him agitate you. “After all, I have to be locked up with you two crazy bastards.”

This time, the silence felt like an eternity. As if it was slowly but surely cutting through your body as if you were butter. Perhaps, you had been too comfortable simply refusing and struggling against them for the last two days, so your mind had already started to forget about the horror you were living in.

“So that’s what you think about us,” was all that Sakusa hissed back at you, his eyes drilling into your psyche like nails. Behind you, Atsumu opened his mouth again, perhaps to set you straight, but no word ever left him, Sakusa being faster than him. “No, it’s fine. A pet should hold no secrets from their owner and vice versa.”

You didn’t expect him to be the first one to avert his eyes, Sakusa’s gaze wandering back to the door in the back of the living room, the very same one you had woken up in before. The one that was filled with ‘your’ kennel and restraints and an unbelievable amount of deprecation. “So I will be very honest with you too.”

Next thing you knew, Sakusa was up again, having reached for your hands still locked between yours and Atsumu’s body. This time, when you fell to the floor, it was anything but controlled, your ass being the first to hit the resistance of the ground, and you gasped in pain as your shoulder slammed into the coffee table. There wasn’t enough time to grasp how your body hurt at that moment, the back of your shirt being tugged at, the fabric pressing into your throat at the front as you were dragged over the floor gasping for air.

“You will be thankful for what we do for you in the future. You don’t have any choice. Until then, you’ll stay in your cage and think about your behavior. Don’t even think about making a ruckus, or you won’t live to see what I will do to you, do you understand?”

Instantly, the dread of feeling the cold, uncomfortable bars against your body made your heart drop in your chest. You couldn’t even get used to the darkness in the boarded-up room without sunlight from the windows when you already heard the lock fall into place.

“No! NO!” you cried out, forgetting all about his warning and slamming yourself towards the only source of light coming from the open door to the living room. “Don’t leave me here again! Please!”

It was pathetic. Using big words just seconds prior to this, and yet, here you were pleading with him to spare you the agony of this place. But despite not wanting to be here, in this apartment, you had a special dislike of being confined in this cold, tiny space all by yourself. You’d rather hang out on the couch, unproductively watching TV with Atsumu all weekend long than having to listen to the clicking of the clock as the only companion you had in this room. You, actually begging to not be left here, was just proof of how desperate you were, scared of the anxiety and degradation you had experienced last time.

“You’ll have enough time to think about your behavior here,” Sakusa sighed, annoyed by your screams. “Learn your place.”

“I do! I know... I just...”

“You know nothing.”

“Omi...” you suddenly heard from the door. Unsure, gripping onto his own arm, Atsumu stood there, the light revealing a conflicted expression playing on his face. “That’s just... It’s too much, man,” he mumbled, and Sakusa let out another deep sigh.

“I told you it wouldn’t be easy, Atsumu. You can still get out if you don’t think you can do it, but don’t pull me down with you. I won’t tell anyone about your involvement if that worries you.”

Standing up, Sakusa seemed to glide out of the shadow, approaching Atsumu who’s gaze shifted from you to his partner in crime. “I’ll take good care of them,” Sakusa promised, though his voice was so indifferent, you had trouble believing that he meant it. “No...” Atsumu eventually spoke up after a moment of contemplation. “I love them just as much- No, I love them more than you. I can’t leave now.”

“Then you understand that this is necessary, right?”

For the first time, as you looked into Atsumu’s eyes, you felt the hints of pity come over you, your old friend looking like a beaten dog next to Sakusa. You barely could believe that Atsumu listened to the manipulative words of someone who should have no rule over your both lives. Someone who didn’t hide how toxic he was at all, but it seemed like Atsumu ate out of his hand as Sakusa held it out to him.

One hand patting Atsumu’s shoulder, Sakusa turned around to you, his scolding, suppressing gaze making you lose all hope of escaping this. He reached for the doorknob, and the only thing you could do was try to reach out, fingers curling into the bars of the kennel, your voice cracking as you called out, “Atsu--”

But you were cut off by the darkness now filling the room, seeping into your throat through your open mouth as you wanted to call out to your childhood friend to save you. Because he loved you, he said so himself. His reason to be here was you, so he was as good as anyone to protect you from this hell you found yourself in. You were desperate enough to even believe in him after everything Atsumu did to you.

Only, what you hadn’t realized so far, was that he had been manipulated into this, as Sakusa was now trying to do to you.

And perhaps, that meant there was no saving for either of you.

[mersuperwholocked-lowlife]

Not Blood But Family

Word Count: 1,922

Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (brief), Sam Winchester (mentioned), OC Character, Reader

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, some slight fluff

A/N: me: hey i should post at least once a week   also me: hey guys i’m back from a random ass hiatus

A/N 2: enjoy the dog poop

A/N 3: lisa’s daughter btw

Masterlist

You shot your eyes around the darkened room, squinting as you tried to make out any figure, seeing if there was anyone who was being held captive with you. Unfortunately for you, you were all alone. You could barely make out the bruises on your wrists, the rope burns caused by being tied up for days. 

“Hey!” you yelled.

“Hey! I know you can hear me! What the hell do you want from me?!” you screamed as loud as you could, more annoyed than scared.  

Ever since you found both your mother and younger brother dead, you’d given up any emotion you could show, mainly numb inside.  

“Ugh,” you groaned softly, laying your head back against the wall as you leaned against it, closing your eyes for a moment. 

Everyone always warned you, don’t hitchhike, and now you’ve learned your lesson.

---

“Did you just take a picture of me?” you squinted your eyes, sitting chained up to a chair as you saw a bright light flash.

“Freak,” you scoffed.

He ignored your comments, grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling it up as you grunted, clenching your jaw.

 He just chuckled, pushing you back. You could feel the blood trickling from your forehead as you breathed heavily.

“If you’re trying to sell me, no one’s gonna buy me. I’m a pain in the ass,” you struggled against your chains.

You were met with a blank expression from the man, having not said a single word to you. 

“If you’re planning on killing me, at least give me the decency of some good conversation,” you laid back in your chair.

You heard his phone ring as he turned his back to you, picking it up.

“Yes, sir. I have (Y/N) with me. I’ve sent a picture to you to send to Dean Winchester,” you poked your head up, hearing an unfamiliar name before be hung up.

“Who’s Dean Winchester,” you asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough... or not,” he shrugged.

You could feel a slight panic in your chest as you stiffened, seeing him walk towards you while clutching a knife.

“Keep that away from me,” you tried and tried to pull your chains, trying to stay away as he grabbed you, pressing the knife against your shoulder.

“Let's have some fun.”

---

“Hey. Hey!” you groaned as you squinted your eyes, hearing someone calling your name in a distance.

“Wake up, (Y/N), please,” you felt him out a hand on your shoulder, cutting open the ropes tying you down.

“Hmm, who are you?” you winced softly, your body ached from all the miniature cuts all over it.

“I’m… I’m here to help,” Dean said. He debated whether or not to tell who he was, pushing your arm around his shoulder.

“How do you know who I am?” you groaned. You blinked your eyes, fading in and out of consciousness.

“Just stay quiet. Come on,” you breathed heavily as you took a step forward, falling onto him completely.

“(Y/N)?!”

---

“Holy shit!” you groaned, sitting up in the bed as you looked around cautiously.

“(Y/N),” you tensed slightly as Dean wrapped his arms around you tightly.

You felt a sense of relief washing over you, feeling a safety that you haven't felt in a long time as you exhaled softly.

“W-Wait, who are you?” you asked.

He stood up, sitting in front of you at the side of your bed.

“You don't remember me, but I knew your mom, a-and your brother,” your face dropped, frowning as you scooted a little away from him.

“Who are you,” you asked again.

“My name is Dean Winchester,” he said.

You thought back for a minute, trying to think where you heard that name before.

You remembered, hearing the man saying his name.

“That… guy mentioned you,” you started.

“Well, I have some bad blood with his boss and they were trying to use you to get to me,” he explained.

You stayed quiet for a moment, before talking again.

“Why me? I don’t even know you,” you shook your head.

His face dropped slightly, looking at you as you ran your fingers through your hair, slightly nervous.

“My friend is coming, everything will be cleared up, okay?” Dean asked.

You nodded, wrapped your arms around your legs as you exhaled sharply, laying your head on your lap.

You heard the noise of something fluttering, as you frowned, looking up. You jumped back, seeing a man appear in front of you.

You could feel your heart racing as the man reached two fingers on your forehead, his eyes glowing blue.

You felt a sense of warmth over you, feeling warmth in your body as it healed. You gasped softly, seeing visions with Dean inside your head. Everything from the years that past came back to you as you pulled away from Castiel, pushing yourself off the bed.

“Dean,” you remembered.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he took a step forward, walking to you.

You shook your head, stepping backward. He turned his head to the side, slightly in shock.

“You’re Castiel,” you said.

“So then where’s Sam,” you asked softly.

“Sam’s at this place we live at. This bunker,” Dean replied.

You continued to stand there quietly, running your fingers through your hair as you turned your head away from Dean.

“I heard that… Lisa’s gone,” you tensed as your mom’s name fell from his mouth.

“Yeah, so is Ben,” you kept your emotions of both anger and grief hidden.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry-” he started.

“Shut up,” you glared at him.

“(Y/N), I-” he tried to speak again, only for you to cut him off once more.

“I said shut up, Dean. Thanks for the help, I’ll be on my way,” you began heading for the door as Dean stopped you.

“Why are you acting like this?” he asked.

“Like what?” you rolled your eyes.

“Why are you acting so cold? So different?”  he crossed his arms.

“Don’t start with me, Dean,” you scoffed, crossing your arms.

Dean motioned to Castiel, telling him to leave as he nodded.

“What happened?” he asked.

“What happened? My family is dead, Dean,” you spat.

“I know, I-I’m sorry-” 

“Saying sorry won't bring them back. It was your choice to leave, you had to know that this was a possibility,” you crossed your arms as you glared at Dean.

“The only reason I left was because I wanted to keep the three of you safe. I couldn't have done that if you guys were with me,” he tried to explain while you kept ignoring his words.

“You don't owe me an explanation. You’re not my dad you don't owe me anything,” you could see the look in his eyes fade away.

“I know I’m not your real dad, but that doesn't mean we're not family,” he started.

“You're just a guy that lived with us for a year, who had a past,” you knew you were hurting him, and hurting yourself while at it. 

You couldn't let your guard down and you knew it. Even if Dean was there for you when you needed someone the most, when you had boy problems, school problems, things somehow your mom didn't understand, he always helped you. With all the late nights you spent crying, trying to convince yourself that you don’t need help, he was always there by your side. 

Not that you would ever admit that. Dean was the only person your mom dated who cared about you and Ben.

“You know that it’s deeper than that, (Y/N). I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry I erased your memory of me. I was just trying to keep you safe,” he said.

“Stop apologizing,” you shook your head.

“Will you come back with me?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“W-What?” you were slightly taken aback by his question, not sure why you were so surprised.

“We have a home now. A sort of home, it’s a bunker. But we live there, and there's more than enough room for you to live with us,” he explained.

“Are you… even after everything I just said?” you frowned.

“Yes. You're still 17, you still, technically need a legal guardian. I know that you’re not happy with me, but I’m gonna fix that. Come live with us,” he said.

“What if I say no?” you raised an eyebrow.

“I know you’re not going to. You hate being alone,” he replied.

“I’ve been alone for a year, I can-”

“I’m sorry you had to be alone for so long. Please, come with me,” he begged again.

You could feel your eyes watering slightly as you frowned, biting your lip nervously.

“Dean, please stop,” you wiped your face with your hands, closing your eyes as you took a deep breath.

“Stop what?” he asked, frowning slightly.

“Why do you care about me?” you whispered softly.

“What do you mean?” he crossed his arms, taking a step closer to you.

You looked up at him, your eyes red and watery as his face dropped.

“I’m not… I’m not your kid o-or anything, why do you always try to take care of me?” you closed your eyes, feeling a tear escape down your cheek.

“(Y/N), listen to me,” he put his hand on your cheek, wiping your tear away. 

“I know I’m not blood, kid, but I’m still your dad, you’re still my kid. Nothing’s gonna change that, no matter what. I love you so much, kid. I’m still your family and you’re still mine. I would never leave you, I-I would never hurt you,” he continued to stroke your cheek, while you kept your tears at bay.  

“My real dad didn’t want me,” you whispered.

“That’s cuz he’s an idiot. Come here,” he wrapped his arm around you tightly as you shut your eyes, letting your tears fall freely while you let out a shaky cry, holding onto him tightly.

He kissed your forehead softly, then rested his chin on the top of your head. 

“I got you, you’re safe now,” he said softly.

“You’re okay now.”

---

You shot up in your bed, looking around cautiously as your breathing was labored. You looked around, before remembering that you were at the bunker as you let out a breath of relief. 

Maybe I should tell Dean

No stop bothering him and just try to sleep

Nightmares weren’t uncommon for you, whether it was about Lisa and Ben, or about any event that happened to you in the past year. You were alone, nothing was ever easy, and most people were the absolute worst. 

You found yourself trying to stop your hands from shaking as you rested your head on your lap, hearing the door open as you looked up.

“Dean?” you asked. 

“What are you doing up? I thought you went to sleep hours ago,” he sat down next to you on the bed. 

“Well, I did, it’s just…” your voice drifted off, trying to figure out how to explain your nightmares without Dean having pity on you. He already gave you a home, a place to feel safe.

“Your nightmares?” he asked.

“How did you know?” you frowned.

“Because it’s normal. Come on, I’m staying with you tonight,” he laid down in the bed, wrapping his arm around you in a protective manner. 

You yawned softly, snuggling up into Dean’s side as you closed your eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep. 

“Thank you, Dad.”

Dean smiled softly, kissing your forehead.

“Anything for you, kiddo.”

[narrans]

The Orion’s Factotum | Ch. I | The Job

I was awake far before the first sun’s light. I couldn’t hardly sleep even though the summer night was cooler than it had been in a long time. The crickets were singing for most of the night in that soft, soothing way. There was a promise of rain. It was omnipresent like the first chill of winter, and goodness knew that was coming far too soon. I rousted myself and adorned the clothes they gave me; the guards that is.

My dear friend Caster had arranged the meeting which still played repeatedly in my head over and over. I didn’t say much. I didn’t need to; rather, they didn’t need me to. They merely snickered behind their helms and twisted their spears from side to side in the dirt like they were anxious to see what was to transpire. They handed me a tunic and a shift as well as undergarments not often worn by women. They told me I would need it for my work.

It was early, still dark, when I left my room and hurried down the stone streets to head to the castle and the dungeons below. They hadn’t let me go down to the prisons before. A light fog treaded alongside my feet as I traversed the unfamiliar path up the sides of the walls, down past the Low Towers, and further to The Turret.

The Turret was the prison; or, rather, where I was told to go to tend to my duties. It stood against sun, silhouetted perfectly as a lone tower. It was an ominous reminder, a warning – stay away lest you take your fate into your own hands. Some of the most dangerous prisoners in the realm were kept here – or so we were told.

I approached, I nodded to the guards who stood solemnly by the border. I had been introduced to them the day prior, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember their names. In fact, the only thing on my mind was my daughter. What was she doing this early in the morning? She had always been an early riser. There was a pang of guilt in my heart as I had not told her of this new position and the potential dangers that accompanied it.

“Oi! You!” The sound of a harsh female voice near me made my heart skip a beat. There, standing by the wooden door, were two guards I had not been acquainted with. “What’s your business here?” Her voice was forceful and direct, cutting through the air like the spear in her hand. Instantly, my nerves sent my mind reeling and everything I was told to say to them had vanished like the mist around my feet. I remember stammering when the male guard leaned over and looked me dead in the eyes. His eyes, a glossy brown, looked slightly red around the rims. They must’ve been on watch all night.

“I… erm…” I cleared my tensing throat to at least make it look like I was putting forth the effort to answer. “I’m… apologies, Sers, I am Raina. Raina Toro? I’m… um… supposed to…”

“Ahh you’re the new one, aren’t you?” asked the man, raising up with a keen and knowing look in his eyes.

“Who now?” asked the woman, giving me a suspicious stare. I shied away from the glance immediately, keeping my eyes low and grasping the cowl on my shoulders.

“You know who. This, Izett, is the Orion’s Factotum. You know, the new one?” he said with a melodic hint in his voice as if he were teasing me. I felt my limbs grow heavy and stiff while I kept my gaze averted.

“Ohhh! I remember now. They told us someone was coming, but I didn’t think it would be someone like her. Skinny shift of a thing, wouldn’t you say? I’m surprised they got the position filled so quickly; but, then again, it’s not like they last long anyway. Come on, we’re supposed to show you the ropes.” Something in Izett’s voice made me cringe. I was used to biting my tongue and keeping my thoughts to myself. This was also a position I needed. It was a good job. An honest job. I couldn’t let a few insults get to me, but that didn’t mean the other things she said weren’t worrisome.

Filled the position so quickly? Caster mentioned something like that, but he wouldn’t go to any lengths to put me in real danger, would he? And what was that other comment? They don’t last long? Who doesn’t? And why…

“Are you even listening?” the man’s voice sent my spiraling thoughts out of my head.

“Yes, Ser. Forgive me. My mind…”

“I don’t care about that. I care about not repeating myself,” he interrupted. “Really, you’re going to need to pay attention to our rules if you want to make it here. Now, let’s continue.”

They swung open the wooden door and brought me inside the Turret. The air was clammy and cold, lit only by a few torches. The Turret itself spiraled up revealing several chambers with heavy set bars in them. The guards paid this no mind and, instead, stepped forward toward a gaping hole in the ground with a strange wooden contraption hung over it. The ropes which held it aloft creaked as did the wood. There was an obvious smell of damp wood and the threat of mildew and rot.

“This is the Lock. You always need to make sure you close this gate around the platform before activating the Lock. To activate, pull this lever and the weights will drop or raise. Understood? Good. Moving on.” Neither of the guards gave me time to respond as they hastened their pace. I had to jog to keep up with the quickness of their steps, their leather armor creaking as they walked around the mechanism and continued to explain how I was to use it.

They opened the gate and stepped on without hesitation. I followed, nearly slipping on the slick wooden surface beneath me. They both snickered and threw the lever, plunging us down faster than I would’ve fallen. A scream filled my throat but came out only as a faint whistle before they threw the lever again, making me stumble. They chuckled again.

“You’re going to have a hard time of it if something like this frightens you,” said Izett as she stepped off of the platform.

“Yes Ser,” I muttered. They opened another large wooden door on the platform we stopped at, revealing the storeroom. Unlike most pantries with elements hanging like fruits and vegetables, cheeses and breads, everything resided in large barrels that came up to my waist. I dared to think that if I needed to I could probably fit inside one of them.

“This is the storeroom. You need to pick up five barrels here and two there. The two here are water and these here are assorted food stuffs. It doesn’t really matter which of these you pick. Just grab five and two. This is to be done twice a day. Understand?” asked Izett.

“I understand,” I said briskly. Five? Five barrels? My heart sank into the pit forming in my stomach. One barrel would easily tide a family off for a week if rationed properly. Five? Twice a day? Izett’s hand suddenly clasped my shoulder. Perhaps she knew I was feeling overwhelmed. Perhaps she saw the panic forming in my eyes. Whatever the case, what she said next didn’t sooth my quickly fraying nerves.

“You know,” she started slowly with a mischievous grin. “They’re bigger than you think. The Orion I mean. One hand could cover you from head to toe and no one would know where you’d gone.” I felt my shoulders shudder involuntarily at the words.

“Did you hear?” chimed in the male guard. “What happened to the last Factotum? Tripped and fell. It takes a second to get down to the bottom where the chains are; if you make it to the ground I mean. Orion are quicker than you think.”

So many times, I had heard of the Orion. I heard of their mannerisms and their civilization. I heard of their I heard of their immense size dwarfing towns and hearing it from them, now, was inconvenient and purposefully cruel. I needed this position. I kept telling myself who I was doing it for even as my shoulders gave away my fear.

“Don’t worry. As long as you don’t get too close to the edge, you’ll be alright,” grinned Izett, who proceeded to explain the remaining procedures including how the balances worked for the Lock and how to load the beams on the platform so it would not become unbalanced. Everything was explained so very quickly that I was hardly sure I would be able to retain it. All the while, they would mention things about the Orion known as Steele Veyne.

Steele evidently came many years ago and terrorized a few lands long the western coast, burning some of them to ash. He was tried and convicted, what it entailed I wasn’t sure, and sentenced to live out the end of his days below The Turret. The guards told me as they watched me struggle with the barrels that other Factotum of his didn’t stay long.

They said his behavior was like that of an animal, growling and grunting, raising his voice at the slightest provocation. They muttered among themselves as though I weren’t there, saying his voice was deeper than distant rolling thunder and twice as loud when he was trying to be quiet.

Finally, after I strained my arms and rolled over my toes twice with the barrels, it was time to descend the Lock to the lowest level. The weights were lifted, and we plummeted further and further into the darkness. The shaft was carved directly out of stone and narrowed as we descended. The rock was slick from where natural moisture gathered along the surface. The torch light gleamed against the rocks as though they were thousands of black, beady eyes.

The Lock came to a halt, sending my knotted stomach in a plummet and my heart in my throat. Every part of me tingled with a nervousness I hadn’t felt in years. It was an anticipation. A nervous anticipation. The two guards ushered me off of the platform, making no effort to assist with the barrels, and brought me to a metal door.

“Now, it’s very important you don’t go beyond the line. You can roll the barrels beyond the line, but do not cross it. Do you understand?” asked the male guard.

“Yes ser,” I mumbled as I stared at the barred door in front of me.

“Gervis, we can’t forget to tell her the most important thing,” reminded Izett.

“Right,” acknowledged Gervis, the male guard who failed to identify himself. “The most important thing is to not let him hear you. If he hears you, he will be angry.”

“Furious,” Izett chimed in.

“Inconsolably agitated. It is imperative you keep away from the line and do not make a single sound. Do you understand?”

“Yes ser,” I breathed. My skin tingled like I was a personal pin cushion for their teases and taunts, every jab and statement setting my nerves trembling. I could hardly breathe. The ache in my muscles from managing the hefty barrels was already going to be a challenge; however not as much as getting them into the room without a sound.

Trying to adhere to words I spoke to my daughter about keeping calm, I took one more calming breath, which irritated the nauseous spell in my gut, and let the guards pull the door open.

The chamber was completely dark except for two large cauldrons of flaming oil left hanging above a chasm of darkness. The ceiling stood many meters above my head, but it was the darkness below the rocky platform I was ushered onto that held my attention. It was against the wall, which was its only saving grace, but the edge was a sheer drop into the unknown.

There were no bars in the darkness below that I could see, but I could hear something faint that sounded like the rattling of chains; heavy chains. I didn’t need to see to know something was in that dreaded darkness that was immense. There was something rhythmic like the rolling of tide water against stone along the seaside. It wasn’t until I stepped into the chamber that I understood what it was – breathing.

I swallowed dryly and, with extreme caution, began rolling the barrels to the indicated spot Izett and Gervis told me about. I passed by what looked like additional platforms that descended into the darkness and continued further into the chamber. The length of each breath seemed to indicate that Steele was asleep. Perhaps this venture would go unnoticed.

The first and second went without incident. The third creaked only once, but the fourth made up for it. The final barrel was almost in place when I heard a sound that made me leap out of my skin and let out a yelp of surprise. The sound was the slamming of a door – a metal door. The thunderous clang of the hinges locking into place told me only one thing – they had closed and locked the door behind me.

There was an instant where the rattling stopped as did the breath. I held back every ounce of terror welling up inside me like a guizer preparing to burst. I clasped my hands over my mouth as if that would somehow keep the sound from erupting from my lungs. Every beat of my heart sent an terrible clenching ache through my veins. My mind raced but produced no thoughts. The air seemed to thicken with the damp moisture just as another sound rang out.

“STEELE! GET UP! YOUR BREAKFAST AWAITS!” The guards – those two wretched guards – were shouting through the small, barred hole in the door. The cauldrons of fire suddenly tilted as the sound of the chains in the darkness rattled. I dared not approach the door. I dared not move. I simply watched with my heart and scream in my throat as streams of fiery oil poured into several basins and began lighting the entire chamber. In the dim firelight which slowly trickled through the rest of the chamber, I could see him – the Orion.

I could only see his frame at first as I pressed myself against the rocks of the ledge. The guards had not lied to me. He was everything they said he was. Easily consuming a large portion of the chamber, his form lay on the ground, curled up into a kind of sleeping position. Hair which fell in his face came right to his shoulders if I could see correctly. There were elements of blonde, or dark blond rather, with fragments of silver lining where his ears were. There were years of smudge and grime caked into the beard on his face.

None of these things though were as terrifying as when his eyes flickered open, revealing two lightly colored violet orbs. They blinked once. Twice. Everything about him tensed as those eyes glanced to the platform where I had placed the barrels; and then to me. His entire body tensed, poised and ready to react.

Every impulse became second nature in an instant and seized control of my body. I turned and bolted toward the door, the sound of chains scraping the ground and a deep, ragged exhalation rumbled in his chest. I grasped at the bars on the small window, seeing only the giddy faces of the guards grinning sinisterly back at me. They were laughing, but I couldn’t hear it. I could only hear the primal growl that shook the very walls of the cavernous room I was now trapped in.

Tears pricked the sides of my eyes as I fumbled with the door. Yes. I was locked in. I was locked in a room with an Ordin.

“Trjahaka itdyom! Minyhar eemonspur!” The language was harsh and intense, rattling me to my soul. The very depth of his voice was like that of crashing boulders in a storm, an avalanche come to life. I tried blocking it out, hands flying to cover my ears. In that instant, the scream I tried desperately to hold back escaped and, not wanting the guards to have the satisfaction of seeing my fear, I turned away from the door and collapsed to my knees.

The chains rattled again and merely kneeling, was already almost eye-level with the platform. Was I going to die? Was all of this a trap set forth by Caster? The thought of being mangled or worse by this being was too much. A warm track of tears streaked down my face as I shuddered and shook, huddled in the corner like an animal knowing its fate to be slaughtered. Steele advanced. “Kevine! Doshti nool itsol qaathn…”

Steele was suddenly cut short by a harsh gagging sound. I glanced just over my shoulder, not sure if my heart could take any more by the way it pounded and pumped nothing but air into my veins. I was safe. A thick collar around his neck and chains against his wrists kept him from advancing and reaching me. The closest he could get, which I could now see, was the extended platform where the barrels were still set perfectly.

Our eyes met and, for the life of me, I could not bring myself to look away from those violet eyes lined with crows’ feet and a thoughtful brow.

The sound of howling laughter now filled my ears as the lock on the door was tossed to the side.

“Sorry about that Factotum, but we couldn’t have you come in without initiation,” grinned Gervis who stepped boldly into the chamber, freely meeting Steele’s eyes. “Don’t worry. He can’t get any closer than to barely reach his meals. Isn’t that right?” The Orion’s eyes narrowed in a seething hatred I knew once many years ago.

“Come along now Factotum. We have other things to show you about this place. Let the beast eat in peace,” grinned Izett as she did the only courteous thing she could and helped me to my feet. I shook like a fragmented leaf in a monstrous gale. If I had anything to eat, it would be making a second appearance. Fortunately, the only thing that happened was a few nervous coughs and the burning acidic taste in the back of my throat.

The low light kept the two young guards from seeing the glossy tears now streaming down my face. What a cruel start. What a miserable post. I could now see why others left the position in haste, not only for the Orion, but also for the treatment of the guards. Still, I needed this post. I needed to take care of my daughter. I shoved my feelings aside, knowing full well that afternoon I would weep into my cot of straw before returning later that night to my post as the Orion’s Factotum.

~~~~~

Continue

Previous

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Punishment

Summary: The MI6 knew who to send to find August Walker. And August Walker knew exactly what buttons he had to push to get what he wanted. At least he thought so until he woke up chained to his own bed. Naked.

Pairing: August Walker x nameless OFC (you)

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: Fem-Dom vibes, Dom vibes, Bondage, Smut (dirty talk; unprotected sex; facesitting, oral, Anal Play, Anal), getting drugged 

A/N: I know I say this often but I think this gets on the top 3 on the filthiest things I ever wrote. Thanks to my obsessive better half @ladyreapermc​ for being the best beta ever. Love you x

Masterlist

Taglist in reblog

The way he laughed while he knew you were sitting at the bar watching him was slowly but surely driving you mad. There he sat, his tie loose, his legs spread while the women around him looked at him like he was the single most tempting specimen that walked the Earth.

You felt a tap on your naked shoulder.

You had bought a new little black dress for this little mission specifically. It didn’t leave much to the imagination but still had enough space that you could wear your gun strapped to your upper thigh.

“Is this seat taken?” You looked over your shoulder, seeing a very attractive man with bright green eyes smile at you. You caught August’s gaze as you turned fully on the seat, your attention shifting towards the stranger.

“Be my guest.” You smiled. A little distraction wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

An hour later the stranger called Jim had to leave. By now you knew he was going through a dirty divorce and just wanted to let loose, but you were here for a mission and couldn’t exactly help. Not that you wanted to.

Finishing your drink, you carefully got off your seat, taking your purse as you turned and walked towards August Walker.

“There she is. My favorite agent.” August smirked as you approached him.

You raised your eyebrow at the women in his arms who shared a look and then got up, leaving without a comment. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, noticing his eyes lingering on your cleavage before he met your gaze. His hair was longer, his signature mustache hidden under the overgrown facial hair.

“You aren’t as hard to find as you think, August.”

“Yet, it took you an entire week to actually find me.” He crooked his eyebrow.

You leaned closer, giving him a good view of your breasts as you picked his drink. His eyes remained on your body as you traced the edge of the glass with a finger before you handed it to him. He let his tongue dart out, wetting his lips before he took the glass, his fingers brushing yours before he brought the tumbler up to his lips, emptying it completely.

“I think I need to remind you of the terms of your deal,” you said, your fingers on his cheek. His eyes darkened, his hand grabbed your wrist guiding your finger into his mouth sucking on it. You breathed in deep, feeling the wetness pooling in between your legs.

“I’d like to see you try, agent.” He grinned.

You tilted your head, your hands now on both of his wide shoulders as you leaned down your lips close to his ear.

“Be in your room in 5 minutes and find out.” You winked at him as you turned around to leave the bar. Looking over your shoulder you could see him checking you out. August Walker was in for a good punishment. And if only he knew the game had already started.

When you let yourself into his room 10 minutes later, August lay passed out on his bed. Grinning to yourself, you set your purse down on the table and put the “Do not Disturb” sign on the door of his hotel room before closing and locking it behind you.

You were just putting the finishing touches to your outfit when you heard the rattle of metal followed by a groan. You turned off the lights in the bathroom and opened the door to walk back into the hotel room.

“Ah! You’re awake.” You grinned as you walked towards the bed. There he was, just how you left him. Naked, already half-hard, and chained to the bed. You did think of using rope at first when you imagined this night but quickly decided against it. A strong man like August needed something stronger. Something… colder.

“It was the drink, wasn’t it?” He asked groaning, rolling his eyes. You didn’t know if he was more furious with you or with himself for getting caught in such a basic trick.

“Of course it was.”

“Great. And what are you planning on doing with me chained to the bed?” He asked, testing the handcuffs connected to a chain.

“Tonight, August Walker, you will learn that you have to follow the rules. If not the one’s from the MI6, then at least mine.”

“Or what?” He crooked his eyebrow.

You smiled at him and opened your bathrobe to reveal what you wore underneath, which wasn’t more than a garter belt, stockings and a cord with the keys to the handcuffs around your neck.

He hissed as he took you in, his wrists fighting against the handcuffs, his muscles flexing. Slowly you let the bathrobe fall to the floor as you moved closer. You got on it, kneeling in between his legs, your hands in his crotch as you took the beauty of him in. Biting your lip of all the things you imagined doing to him, you sighed.

“Or I won’t fuck you.” You smiled sweetly at him.

“Like you could say no to my long and thick cock. Look how hard I already am for you.” He flashed you an arrogant grin..

You didn’t have to be told twice, staring down at the hard shaft throbbing right in front of you. The temptation of just sinking around him was strong but you pushed it away, sticking to the plan. You clicked your tongue at him, sitting down in between his legs spreading yours over his.

“Fuck!” He cursed in a low voice since now you wet pussy was in full display but completely out of his reach. He fought against his restraints, his breath picking up speed..

“See Mr. Walker…” You smirked, voice soft and sultry, your hands wandering over your body, ignoring him completely. You pinched your nipple, making yourself gasp, your other hand slowly running down your body letting one finger flick over your clit.

“As much as I would love for you to fuck me senseless like in the past…” You continued to play with your pussy, your hand knowing just what to do to pleasure yourself. “Tonight, you are not in charge. You are going to make me cum over and over again. And maybe if you behave well enough, you get to cum inside of me. Maybe, if you’re a really good boy, I’ll even let you fuck my ass.” You looked at him, seeing sweat form on his forehead as he watched you play with yourself. You whimpered as you pushed two fingers inside while massaging your breast with the other.

“But… I have to be sure if you’ll follow the rules in the future before you get to cum inside of me.” You bit your lip as you began to fuck yourself with your fingers, finding that spot inside of you that made you see stars.

Closing your eyes you forgot about the man in front of you, chasing your orgasm. Moans left your lips and you could hear the handcuffs rattle, his thighs shifting underneath your legs. You ignored him as you felt your orgasm wash over you, his name on your lips.

Panting, you opened your eyes, meeting his dark blue ones.

“You are going to regret this once you unchain me, kitten.” He growled and you grinned wickedly as you crawled over him to straddle his stomach. You pushed your wet fingers in his mouth hearing him moan as he tasted you.

“Who says, I am going to unchain you, August?” You grinned down at him.

“You gonna keep me here as your fuck pet?” He asked, words muffled around your fingers.

“A very nice idea. How about you earn your way to freedom, hm?”

“And how do I do that?”

“What was your record again? 6 times?” You rolled your hips on top of him, drenching his chest hair with your juices. He nodded.

“Then how about this: I’ll unchain you once you make me cum 8 times? And because I’m feeling generous, the one I just had also counts.”

You continued to roll your hips on top of him as he looked up at you.

“Deal.” He grinned with such confidence you almost faltered, but did the best to cover up with a smirk to match his.

“You sure you're up to this, August? Without your magical hands?” You teased, both of your hands on his shoulders, as you rubbed your pussy over his stomach trying to get some friction.

“I think you know my tongue is more than enough.”

“Right. I always wanted to shut you up like this.”

You grinned as you inched forward, your pussy just over his face. You almost screamed in ecstasy when he brought his head up and licked on stripe from back to front, moaning as he tasted you. With one hand on the headboard, the other hand in his curls you let him devour you.

There’s one thing August Walker doesn’t step back from and that is a challenge. After he made you cum for the third time with his tongue, your body was slick with sweat, your chest heaving and your pussy throbbing with overstimulation. All you wanted was for him to fuck you senseless. And he knew it. You got off him, letting yourself fall down beside him as you tried to catch your breath.

“Already tired?” He asked in a mocking tone, despite being slightly out of breath. You turned your head towards him, noticing his face wet with your juices, a shit-eating grin on his swollen lips.

“Just catching my breath, big boy.” You smirked back.

“You know. You could always just give up. Unchain me and I won’t punish you too hard, little kitten.” He said.

“You’re not in charge here, August. I am. Though, I do think you deserve a little reward, don't you?” You asked. He said nothing as you carefully got on your knees, your legs still feeling like jelly and knelt next to his cock.

“I don’t think…” You let one finger run up from his balls to his tip, his skin burning hot and sticky with all the precum that had leaked out. “I have ever seen you this hard.” You looked at him, noticing his clenched jaw as he breathed hard.

“Do you want me to suck your cock, August? Do you want me to gag on your big fat cock?” You asked, leaning down and just kissing the tip. You licked your lips as you straightened up, tasting his precum and moaned pornographically. You didn’t wait for his answer as you parted your lips and took him as deep as you could, hearing him curse. You looked at him as you found a rhythm, your tongue licking the prominent vein on the underside feeling it pulse.

Releasing him with a plop, you closed your fist around him, continuing your torture.

“You wanna cum inside my mouth?” You asked, earning a beast-like growl.

“Once I get free, I’m gonna fill every hole in your body.” He hissed.

“Is that a threat I hear?” You grinned and spat into your hand before you continued to jack him off.

“It’s a promise, kitten.”

You saw his victorious grin a second before you felt his hand on your nape. Alarmed, you reached for the chain around your neck, hand coming up empty as August had already taken them. You had no idea at what point he had managed that and didn’t have much time to think about it as he held your face down and forced his cock in between your lips. He thrust into your mouth, his hand pulling your hair into a ponytail and keeping your head down forcing his cock deeper and deeper making you gag.

“You think you are in charge here, little kitten?”  He tugged on your hair, making you move up his body until he could kiss you hard.

“I am in charge of you. I’m in charge of you every second of the day. Even when you’re fucking your dildo in your shower. I always know what you do.” He hissed, looking deep into your eyes.

“I knew you would be here before you even knew it, kitten. Who do you think gave the MI6 the tip of where I was.” He grinned, making you gasp.

“And now quit the bullshit and fuck my cock before I really punish you.” He kissed you again, his teeth nibbling your upper lip.

Straddling his hips, immediately you took him deep inside of you, biting your lip as he settled inside of you perfectly. Like he always did.

“Fucking made for me.” He groaned, slapping your ass hard, as he thrust up into you, watching you like a hawk as he brought his hand up and unlocked the other cuff, releasing his left hand..

“You must have been really desperate for my pussy if you dislocated your own thumb to get out of the handcuffs.” You moaned, grinding on top of him. One of his hands massaged one of your breasts, while his other was on your ass moving your body on top of him.

“I haven’t had a pussy since the last time we fucked.”

“Liar.” You moaned, crying out loud when he slapped your ass hard.

“Do not call me a liar. I never lie.” He growled. You swallowed hard, looking down at him. His beautiful eyes staring back at you. Against your better judgement, you actually believed him.

“Okay.” You whispered, leaning down and crossing your arms around his neck as you kissed him. He began to thrust into you, slow and deep both of his hands on your ass, one of his fingers teasing your asshole.

“You really want me to fuck your ass?” He asked, smirking up at you.

“I want you to cum in my ass, August.” You whispered, biting his earlobe.

“You must be really desperate for my cock, huh?” He grinned, thrusting faster, holding you close against him. Your breathing got heavier, the familiar sparks in your lower belly returning.

“I missed you, August.” You whimpered, crying out as he fucked you into your fifth orgasm.  He kissed you almost tenderly as his hands pushed your hair out of your face. He looked at you as if he was seeing you for the first time.

“I want you on all fours.” He whispered. Still breathing heavily, you followed his command and weakly got yourself in position and turned your head to watch him.

August rubbed his chafed wrists before popping his thumb back in place like it was nothing, before he set the keys on the bedside table, flashing you a quick smirk.

“I really want to chain you up sometime,” He commented as he pulled a drawer open, fishing something out.

“The last time we did this, I had to carry you to the bathtub.” He said as you watched him stroke himself with a lot of lube, before you felt something cold on your ass. His finger played with your asshole, slowly forcing it in as his other hand played with your pussy.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you pass out under me, kitten.” He chuckled darkly as he shifted behind you, one of his hands on your hip as you felt the tip of his cock.

“Ready or not…” He said before he slowly pushed inside.

Before you met August 6 years ago you weren’t into anything kinky. You were freshly recruited into the MI6 and most of all, a virgin. You fell in love with him. All of him. In all of his wicked ways.

You both groaned loudly when he was fully inside. A sensation you probably would never get used to. And you never wanted to. He played with your clit as he fucked your ass.

“Always so fucking tight and ready for me.” He moaned as he began to thrust faster. You grabbed the bedsheet, meeting his thrusts.

“I want you to come away with me.” He groaned, fucking you harder.

“I want you to leave the shitshow of the MI6 and stay with me.”

He abandoned your clit only to pump two fingers into your pussy, his other hand on your stomach, pulling you with your back against his chest. You were a sobbing mess high on pleasure as you brought one of your hands behind you to his neck, holding onto him.

“Come away with me, kitten.” He whispered against your ear. Adding a third finger as he fingerfucked your pussy. You felt his movements become harder and even faster, finding yourself close to orgasm again.

“Come away with me and help me cleanse this planet.” He moaned against your ear.

Moaning his name you nodded, your other hand finding your clit, screaming when you came hard. You were shaking in his grip, holding on to him as he pushed you down on the matress, fucking you deeper as he finally reached his own orgasm, spilling his seed as deep as possible. You whimpered as he lay on top of you, still hard inside your ass.

“I’ll go with you, August.” You said quietly, still trying to get back to breathing properly.

“I was hoping you would say that.” He kissed you shoulder, pulling out of you and getting off the bed. You heard water running and turned around to look at him coming out of the bathroom, rubbing a washcloth over his cock. Parting your legs as he got back to bed, he settled still hard on top of you. You raised your eyebrow.

“I promised to fill all your holes, didn’t I?”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

End of His Rope

Prompts: Don't know if you're in the mood to write some Merthur but if you are, being the hurt/comfort royalty that you are, may I humbly request a little "shatter my soul" misunderstanding? If not that's fine too. - alittletoo-obsessed

So, I've been rereading some of your Merlin fics, and I was wondering if you could maybe write something where Merlin's experienced some sort of trauma before he came to Camelot, and so he's always avoiding things or reacting strangely, but Arthur assumes that's just his personality, but then something seemingly innocuous happens and he just breaks down completely in front of Arthur, & Arthur can't understand why. Cue Arthur trying to help him and Merlin eventually having to explain everything. - anon

Our BOYS i did miss them

Read on Ao3

Warnings: childhood trauma, flashbacks, drowning

Pairings: merthur, platonic or romantic don't care

Word Count: 3682

It’s always the water in his dreams.

Dark. Lapping at the stone walls. Bottomless.

The chain clanks heavily against the sides.

It’s so deep.

The rope is never long enough.

—————

Arthur has no idea why he had to get assigned the weirdest servant in Camelot.

Sure, it’s not like he asked for Merlin to be his servant—and he’ll kill you if you tell him this, but he’s not changing Merlin for the world—but come on, he could’ve at least gotten someone normal.

But no, he has to get this clumsy fool of a bumpkin that insists on tripping over his own feet, stumbling into walls, spending days at a time who knows where—he’s good friends with the tavern owner so he knows Merlin’s not there—and occasionally spouting great wisdom seemingly off the top of his head. And to top it all off, he’s endearing enough that Arthur panics whenever Merlin’s not right next to him.

It’s terribly annoying.

But that—well, most of that—he can forgive. Merlin’s a clumsy fool but he’s a good distraction. He’s a forgetful sod but he’s witty enough to make up for whatever time he’s lost with some sort of solution. He’s a disrespectful clot pole but it’s a welcome relief from all this ‘yes, sire,’ ‘no, sire,’ ‘would you prefer pork or poultry, sire?’ It gets a bit grating every now and then.

And alright, maybe Merlin’s not entirely to blame for how endearing Arthur finds him. Maybe.

But the whole thing about water Arthur will never understand.

The first time he asked Merlin to draw him a bath he thought the man was about to fall over. Merlin had gone pale and stammered out that yes, he would do that, how does he do that? He’d assumed it was because Merlin was shirking from his duties or whatnot but he hadn’t asked any of the other servants to help him, instead drawing the water for Arthur all by himself. Bemused, Arthur had told him he’s allowed to get help, only for Merlin to go on one of those impressive rants about how servants were people too, and interrupting their jobs seemed rude. Which, alright fair enough but it didn’t erase the pale and shaken expression from his face.

The first time he walked in on Merlin trying to clean the floor, he stopped and stared at the bucket sitting in the farthest corner of the room.

“You know it’s more efficient to keep the bucket with you, right?”

Merlin shrugs. “You have an issue with how I clean the floor, you are more than welcome to do it yourself.”

Arthur had scoffed and turned to leave but the tension in Merlin’s shoulders had stayed.

The first time he met Merlin in the courtyard and tries to walk past the well was the first time Merlin had strayed from his side.

“And of course, you’ll need to make sure all of my armor is…” Arthur trails off, looking around for Merlin, only to notice him a few paces away. “What the hell are you doing over there?”

“Walking.”

“Get back here,” Arthur barks, “I’m not done.”

“I can hear you perfectly fine over here.”

“Merlin—hey!”

“Sorry, sire!” A carriage blows right by them, Merlin reaching out to yank Arthur closer by his sleeve as it goes by. “Didn’t see you there!”

Arthur mutters a curse and brushes himself off.

“That’s why,” Merlin says, helping him dust himself off, “don’t want you to get run over by a wagon, now.”

Arthur cuffs him half-heartedly over the head and keeps walking.

He tries again a few times but Merlin studiously avoids the well with a grace that he scarcely applies to anything else.

It hits him when they’re out hunting once that Merlin might just hate getting wet.

So he pushes him into a pond.

Merlin splutters and curses at him and purposefully dumps all the arrows into the pond with him so they’re useless for hunting but he knows how to swim and if the way he slings his sodden neckerchief at Arthur is any indication, he’s not entirely opposed to the water.

And yes, the day was hot and maybe a water fight was the best way to cool off.

It only ever happens when they’re in Camelot. Sometimes Merlin will accidentally kick one of the buckets and it looks like he’s about to jump out of his skin. Arthur chuckles at him and calls him a delicate pansy but it’s only ever that loud noise. Not when the bells are going off—they really need to get better security for the dungeons—not when Merlin drops another tray, only the bucket.

And he still won’t go near the well.

Merlin must just not like it. That’s fine.

Doesn’t mean he’s going to get out of his chores, though.

He watches Merlin go about his day, watches him change the sheets, do up the rest of the room, get the laundry, but he never goes into the courtyard. He frowns when Merlin does ask someone else—Lilian, he thinks her name is—to go get a bucket of water for him, but there’s nothing quite like the way that Merlin lingers at the very edge of the courtyard, his gaze on a constant swivel, trying to see something that isn’t there.

It’s unnerving.

But it’s Merlin, and Merlin is strange, so Arthur just shrugs and moves on.

—————

Merlin wakes up in a cold sweat.

He wraps his arms around himself and scrambles to the floor. Dust cakes itself over his shins and forearms and he heaves a sob.

The hand on his shoulder that branded him so many years ago hums with the feeling of Arthur’s glove.

—————

“Leave it,” Arthur says, patting Merlin’s shoulder as he walks by, “we’ll get the next one.”

He steers Merlin away from the well toward the castle door, the dropped bucket rolling across the stones. Behind them, Lilian lowers another bucket into the well, the soft splash-thunk of the water and the creak of the handle. Arthur shakes his head.

“Why does it have to be so bloody hot?”

“It’s summer,” Merlin mumbles, clearly feeling the heat too by the sweat beaded on his brow, “it’s supposed to be hot.”

“Not this hot.” Arthur shakes his head, dismayed when his hair sticks to his forehead. “We should be inside.”

“You’re the one that dragged us out here, sire.”

“Enough. Come on. I’m sure there’s somewhere cooler we could be sitting.”

They make their way back into the castle, Merlin immediately going to draw the curtains to block out the hideous light of the sun as Arthur flops down onto his bed and scrubs his hands over his face.

“You’ll get your sheets all sweaty.”

“Everything in this castle is already sweaty,” Arthur mumbles, “what’s a few sheets?”

“Well, when you have to sleep on them tonight, that will be your problem.”

“Please. I’ve slept in worse.”

“Mm.” Merlin swats him with a pillow. “You’ve also complained about your room being too hot more times than I can count. Move.”

“You move,” he manages as he peels himself off the bed and onto the floor. “Why is it so hot, Merlin?”

“I told you, it’s summer.”

Arthur squints. “You’re wearing so many clothes.”

“It is polite to wear clothes, Arthur.”

“But you’re wearing a jacket and long sleeves and a scarf and long trousers! How are you not hot?”

Merlin shrugs. “I run cold.”

“C’mere then.” Arthur holds out his hand. “I’m too hot. Cool me off.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “You’d have better luck sticking your head in a casket of mead.”

“Merlin.”

“You would,” Merlin sings, “but then you’d be even stickier than you are now.”

“Fine.” His head falls back against the bed with a thud. “Maybe I’ll just jump in water next time.”

He’s too hot to notice the way that Merlin stiffens.

—————

Merlin pants and heaves and scrabbles at the floor. It’s real, he’s really dry, it’s safe, there’s nowhere to go down.

He shivers on the cold floor and reaches for a blanket, wrapping himself in it tightly and clutching the fabric to his face. It scratches horribly and he rubs his cheek into it.

Rough is safe. Dust is safe. Warm is safe.

There’s nowhere to go.

High above Camelot, dark clouds begin to swirl in the sky, carrying with them the promise of rain.

—————

Arthur sighs as he slumps under the edge of the stable. Really, a rainstorm? Right now? The air had a weight to it, hanging over the courtyard like a dirty rag, right up until the heavens burst open and decided to pour over the city. They’d barely made it to the safety of the stable in time before it looked like the storm was doing its best to wash the courtyard clean.

“Well, there goes the plan for the rest of the day.”

Merlin huddles against the stable, shying away from the gutter. “Are we going to try and make it back inside?”

“Unless you fancy a mad dash through the storm, I’d say we’re better off waiting it out.”

Merlin glares at the water like it’s personally insulted Gaius in front of him. Arthur follows his gaze to watch one of the horses finally drag its cart under an overhanging section of roof.

“Seems everyone wants to get out of this rain.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Arthur sighs before something hits him in the forehead. He glances up.

A raindrop hits him square in the eye.

Biting back a curse, he glances around and spies a bucket.

“Aha!”

“What’re you—Arthur?”

“This should show you,” he mutters, shoving the bucket under the leak, “there. Now try it.”

He looks up to reassure Merlin that he’s fine, he just got hit in the eye with a raindrop, only to see Merlin’s face.

“…Merlin?”

Merlin’s face is ash. His mouth hangs open, his lips dry despite the rain and his lower lip starts to wobble.

“Merlin!”

And Merlin is gone, tearing through the rain like a bat out of hell. Arthur mutters another curse and races after him, barely flinching at the deluge as he tries to keep his eyes on Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, as they dart into the castle and up the stairs.

“Merlin, where are you—slow down, you’re going to—Merlin!”

Merlin trips. He falls.

Arthur reaches out and wraps an arm around Merlin’s waist, just saving him from careening down a staircase.

“Merlin, shh,” he tries, only to have to grunt and struggle to keep a hold of the man as he claws at the air in front of him, “come on—Merlin!”

His room. They need to get to his room.

“Sorry, Merlin,” he mumbles, before swinging the man up—why is he so light?—and making a break for his chambers.

The door slams shut behind him and he lets Merlin go, his chest aching as he watches him fall to the floor, scrabbling madly at the stone until his fingers start to bleed.

“Merlin,” he cries again, dropping to his knees and taking Merlin’s hands in his, “Merlin, look at me!”

His…his eyes…

Arthur has never seen Merlin look like this. He’s never seen him in so much pain.

“Merlin,” he tries, softer this time, “Merlin, it’s alright. You’re safe, I’m right here.”

Finally, finally, Merlin stills. Though still is almost worse, he looks frozen. He swallows.

“…’rthur?”

“Yes, Merlin, it’s me, I’m right here, it’s alright.” He gives Merlin’s hands a gentle squeeze. “What’s—oh!”

Merlin throws himself at him, all but knocking him over as he wraps his arms tightly around his waist. Arthur catches him with a huff, letting him bury his soaking wet face in his jerkin.

“Easy, Merlin, it’s alright,” he laughs nervously, “you’re—well, alright, you idiot, if you…if you need to…”

He says as if he’s not cuddling Merlin already.

Arthur sighs, the dampness of their clothes making it more than a little uncomfortable but not caring in the slightest when Merlin starts to sob into his shoulder.

“Hey, hey, Merlin, it’s alright, I’m right here. You’ve got me, I’ve got you, we’re not going anywhere.” He rubs Merlin’s back firmly and presses his cheek to his wet hair. “I’ve got you.”

Poor Merlin is still shaking like a leaf. Arthur frowns, glaring at the storm with the intent to stare it down until it tells him why the hell it thinks it can hurt his Merlin like this.

“The rain can’t hurt you anymore,” he growls, “we’re inside. You’re safe. Everything’s alright.”

Merlin hiccups. “We’re—it’s—over?”

“The storm isn’t quite through yet, but we’re out of the rain, yes, Merlin, you’re safe.”

“Don’t—want—fall—“

“You can’t fall here, I’ve got you, we’re on the floor.”

“Rope—too short—won’t reach all the way—hurts—“

The roaring protectiveness in his gut starts to give way to confusion, what rope? Where is Merlin trying to go?

“Calm down, Merlin,” he says instead, rubbing his back, “it’s alright, there’s no rope—“

Merlin lets out a howl.

“No, no, no! That’s not—there is a rope,” Arthur tries desperately, “and it’s long enough, we can reach, it’s alright, everyone’s safe, you’re safe, shh, shh…”

The howl buries itself in some soft part of Arthur’s chest. His hands are itching for his sword, something, anything to fight what’s causing Merlin this much pain but he can’t, there’s nothing, so he wraps his arms tighter around Merlin and glares at the storm.

After a long, long time, when their tunics have done their best to meld with their skin, Merlin stills. There’s one more soft hiccup before a cold nose presses itself to Arthur’s neck.

“…Merlin?”

“‘Rthur? Arthur?”

“It’s me, Merlin, I’m right here.”

“Arthur…” Merlin tenses and before Arthur can protest, pulls away. “Sorry.”

“Don’t,” Arthur says sharply, only for Merlin to flinch. He softens his voice and reaches for him. “Don’t pull away, don’t apologize. Are you hurt?”

Merlin lets him wrap an arm around him, thank god. “No. Not hurt.”

Arthur opens his mouth to protest but thinks better of it. “Come on, let’s get you out of these wet clothes. Get dry. Yeah?”

The word ‘dry’ seems to unlock something, Merlin’s limbs flowing looser around his body. “Yeah…”

“Dry it is then,” Arthur says quietly, “come on, there are towels for us to dry off, we can get dry, we’ve got dry clothes here.”

Concern chases its tail around Arthur’s chest as he carefully tousles Merlin’s hair dry as Merlin peels himself out of his soaked clothes. They end up in a sodden heap in the corner, ready to be taken to the laundress’s as Arthur offers Merlin one of his nightshirts.

Merlin looks like a drowned puppy, blinking warily at the proffered shirt.

“Just put it on, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “it’s dry and warm.”

There’s the magic word again. Merlin tugs on the shirt and wraps his arms around himself. Arthur glances behind him at the bed and prods Merlin’s shoulder.

“Under the covers now,” he murmurs, smiling a little at Merlin’s confusion, “come on, I want to be warm too. And if you still run cold you’re going to need more than that to warm you up.”

Merlin lets him tug them both up to the other end of the bed, under the covers, pulling the sheets up to their chins. Arthur reaches out to take Merlin’s hands and examine them.

“You’re hurt,” he murmurs, “but it shouldn’t last very long. We can go to Gaius if you really need it.”

He glances up to see Merlin’s exhausted little face.

“Hey,” he murmurs, tugging Merlin a little closer, “are you alright?”

“Tired, now,” Merlin mumbles, “and embarrassed.”

“It’s okay.” Arthur pulls him closer. “C’mere.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Warming you up.” And hugging you because you’re still looking like a drowned puppy.

“Oh.” Merlin is all elbows and knees and wet hair, scrunched up under Arthur’s chin, but he relaxes a little. “Thanks.”

“Mm.” Arthur runs a hand over his back. “Want to talk about it?”

Merlin hums. “Not really.”

Arthur bites back a curse and takes his lip between his teeth. “Can I ask what it was that set it off? So it…doesn’t happen again?”

Something warm flares against his neck. “It’s stupid.”

“You just had a breakdown in my arms, Merlin, it’s not stupid.”

“They can both be stupid.”

“Well, they aren’t.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet.”

“It makes you upset,” Arthur says firmly, “it’s not stupid.”

Merlin is quiet for a few moments. Then: “you can ask.”

Good. “Was it the storm?”

“Not really.”

“Was it the rain?”

“Not really.”

Arthur frowns. Then what could it have been? Merlin had been glaring at the storm like he wanted it to go away.

But he was the one to suggest they make a run for it.

As a matter of fact, he’d been fine up until…

Up until Arthur had moved the bucket.

“…Merlin?”

“Yeah?”

“Was it the bucket?”

Merlin stiffens. Then he lets out a long sigh and tucks his face deeper into Arthur’s chest. “Yes.”

“…can I ask why?”

“Do you have to?”

Yes. “No, I don’t, I just…” Arthur takes a deep breath. “I don’t like seeing you like this, Merlin, it…you’re upset and I can’t help and I can’t do anything. It hurts.”

He holds Merlin a little tighter.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” he confesses in a whisper, “I want to help.”

Merlin shudders in his arms. “Well that’s not fair,” he says hoarsely, “but…thanks.”

And the story comes spilling out of him.

There is a well on the outskirts of Ealdor. It is old, built before Merlin’s mother can remember, and it has one metal bucket on the end of a long, fraying rope. When there is a drought, the bucket has to be lowered further in order to reach the water.

One year, there was a very bad drought. The well was running dry. So the people of the village decided to build a new well closer to the river with a much longer rope. The old well was not used.

Merlin’s job used to be to fetch the water for the animals at the end of the day. So he would walk to the well. One night, he forgot that the old well wasn’t being used.

He found a pack of the village boys around the old well.

They were laughing and pointing at something inside.

Merlin wandered closer to figure out what was going on.

The bucket sat useless outside the well.

There was a boy inside the well.

Merlin couldn’t see him, it was too dark.

The splashing sounds were getting weaker.

The cries were getting quieter.

The other boys laughed at him when he threw his own bucket down and raced for the other one.

One of them grabbed his arm.

“Don’t, or we’ll throw you in too.”

Merlin had to watch.

The boys left when they couldn’t hear the cries anymore.

Merlin threw down the bucket.

The rope wasn’t long enough.

His mother found him the next morning, the metal bucket by his side long forgotten, his hands all but frozen to the old crank, still peering down into the water.

Arthur’s mouth runs dry as Merlin keeps talking. Unbidden, his arms tighten around the man mumbling into his chest.

He couldn’t have known.

He couldn’t have known.

How cruel those boys must have been, how awful it must be for Merlin to keep seeing that, over and over and over…

“I’m sorry,” he says in a strangled whisper when Merlin’s finished. “I’m so sorry.”

Merlin is quiet.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he continues, “it wasn’t, Merlin, it’s—it’s not your fault.”

“The rope wasn’t long enough,” comes the mumble, “I couldn’t save him.”

“Shh, shh, it wasn’t your fault. Don’t blame yourself for the cruelty of others.” Arthur holds him tighter. “I’m sorry, Merlin, you don’t have to go near the well ever again, I promise, we can get someone else to do it.”

Merlin just curls further into his chest.

“You’re safe, you’re dry, everything’s alright, you’ll be fine—“ Arthur can’t stop blabbering on, trying to reassure the poor man in his arms— “I’ve got you, you’re safe.”

Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur too and holds tight. “Don’t have to go near the well?”

“No, no, Merlin, never.”

“Don’t have to use the buckets?”

“No. Only wooden buckets and only when you need to.”

“Don’t have to be wet?”

“You’re dry, I’ll keep you dry.”

“Is there still rope?”

“The ropes are long enough, they’re always long enough.”

“Good,” Merlin mumbles, the exhaustion finally bleeding into his voice, “good…good…”

When they wake up, they’ll have to talk about what else Merlin needs, how to deal with this. Arthur will have to grit his teeth and resist the urge to storm back to Ealdor and teach those boys a lesson. Merlin will curl his fingers into Arthur’s jacket every time they walk past the well.

But for now, Merlin will drift off to sleep in Arthur’s arms, Arthur will hold him, and they’ll stay safe and dry out of the rain where they don’t need a bucket to stop any leaks.

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Take My Hand (Part Four)

Summary: doing what you think is best for another person never ends well (four of ??? parts - more parts to come!) 

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Reader, Rafael Barba x Reader 

Word Count: 7,579

Song: I don't like slow motion, double vision in rose blush / I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush (gold rush by taylor swift) 

Warnings: T, lots of angst, but a happy ending? 

A/N: thank you to all of you for reading, your comments and reblogs have kept me going! thank you to @laneygthememequeen​ and @bucky-of-the-opera​ for being the best beta readers!! 

“Rafael, you don’t have to leave—” Sonny crossed his arms, as Rafael raised an eyebrow at him over his drink, sipping at his scotch mournfully, “McCoy said you could still work—” 

“You know a lawyer’s reputation is everything, Carisi,” he swirled what remained of his drink in his glass, “it’s our main commodity, and mine has been taken out back and shot — by my own hand,” he downs the rest of the drink, “besides,” he sighs, “there’s nothing left for me here.” 

Sonny frowns, sipping at his own drink, “What’re gonna do next?” Rafael shrugs, “I think I’ll broaden my horizons— this is the first time since before law school that I haven’t had a plan for my life — it’s just wide open.” 

“And that’s?” 

“Terrifying, surprising — I never thought I’d have to start over at this point in my career, but,” he leans against the counter, “it’s a change,” and then he looks over at Sonny, “and what about you?” 

He furrows his brow, “What about me?” 

“Are you going to apply for the opening in the D.A.’s office?” Sonny nearly chokes on his drink, “come on, Carisi, you’re more than qualified.” 

He shakes his head, “I don’t know — I’m not sure if I’m ready for that change quite yet, besides,” he shifts in his seat, “I heard from Liv that McCoy has someone else in mind for the job.” 

“Stone?” Rafael asks, and Sonny tilts his head, “I may not be in that office, but it doesn’t change the fact that it leaks like a rusty faucet.” 

“If you know that—” 

“Sonny, a piece of advice,” Rafael turns to face him, one elbow on the counter, “no one job is forever — Stone may last a while, he may not — but get your name in the ring at least because the next time the position is open, they’ll look to you—” 

“But—” 

“You have been part of the squad, you’ve seen these cases for years, you’re an officer and you have the education to back it up,” he pulls his wallet out, waving off Carisi, and placing a few bills on the counter, “Look, you went to law school for a reason right? If you keep making excuses, you won’t be able to do the good you could do.” 

Sonny knew, he knew that he should but— “I’m just afraid that I won’t be able to handle it,” 

Rafael raises an eyebrow, “You are a detective in one of the toughest units in the NYPD and you went to law school at the same time — I think you’ll be fine.” 

Sonny blinks, trying to hide his smile, “Thank you — for everything. I’ve appreciated you mentoring me these past years.” 

Rafael gives a small chuckle at that, “You shouldn’t be thanking me,” 

Sonny tilts his head, “Then who should I be thanking?” 

Your name leaves his lips, and Sonny frowns, “I didn’t really want to mentor you, but with some encouragement, well—” he shrugs, “my point is there’s no need to thanks, at least not me.” 

A sentence burns on his tongue, hot as the anger sitting on his chest, and I should thank the person who cut me out of their life without any to-do? But Sonny doesn’t say that, he only smiles — as always. 

He didn’t want to admit how much it hurt when you left. When you didn’t say goodbye. When you quit without warning. When you left him with nothing but a note and no explanation, only the feeling of your lips on his. 

But it did hurt.

Especially because he didn’t know if it was because of him. He didn’t presume himself to be that important in your life — and maybe he wasn’t with how easily you had removed yourself from his life — but what other explanation was there really? 

“I should go,” Rafael slips off the stool, pulling his coat on, and he holds out his hand to Sonny, “I hope to see you again sometime, Detective,” 

Sonny offers a smile, shaking his hand, “Counselor, I expect to hear things about what you do next.” 

“Same to you — your name is associated with me, I can't have you sullying it, now can I?” but then he grimaces, shrugging, “well, at least the bar is low.” 

“Bye, Rafael,” and he nods, disappearing out the door, and Sonny straightens his coat, walking towards the door, before glancing at the bar stool you had sat at the night he picked you up — so much had changed and in so little time. 

“How long has it been, Jack?” you skip the handshake for a hug, sliding into the booth across from him. 

“Far too long,” he sighs, already had ordered his own food, “I heard about the stir you’re making in the Bronx,” he splits his chopsticks, dousing in his food in a very modest amount of sriracha, as you raise a questioning eyebrow at his remark, “The Brown case — I heard an earful from the Bronx D.A. about that case.” 

You shake your head, ordering yourself a soda, “It was his fault that he didn’t have proper chain of custody on that evidence—” 

“I know,” Jack nods, “it was a good catch.” 

“Thank you,” you smile, pleased with yourself, “although I suspect this isn’t just for you to compliment me on my exceptional work.” 

“Developed an ego at No-Go?” you roll your eyes at his “loving” nickname for your firm, Noble-Gordon LLP, before shrugging, “you know you could start your own practice and make more money.” 

“I could, but I also wouldn’t get some control over where their pro bono hours go,” you order your food, stirring your drink with a straw, “now what do you want McCoy? And then I can bore you with the details of my life plan.” 

Jack smiles, “Always straight to the point, huh, counselor?” he leans back, “what do you think of Detective Carisi?” 

You furrow your brow, “Sonny? Is something—” 

“Nothing is wrong,” Jack waved you off, “but what was your opinion of him?” 

You tilt your head, “As what? Detective, a barred attorney, or person?” 

Jack raises an eyebrow, “Let’s start with detective, and then we��ll get to the other two,” 

You pause — how could you describe Sonny? “When he first started, I didn’t know what to think of Sonny — he was eager to learn, but green,” you suppress a snort at the thought of him the unfortunate incidents of him pestering victims and suspects alike, “but despite that, he was always willing to learn, quick on his feet. He was good with the victims, maybe not at first, but he’s a seasoned detective now, and I have confidence in his skills.” 

“And as an attorney?” 

“Well, I never was around to see him get barred,” and you feel a twinge of guilt crawl up your throat — you had promised to help him study, promised to help him celebrate — you didn’t do either, “but when he applied his legal knowledge to cases we worked on together and while shadowing at the Manhattan office, he showed aptitude, skill, and passion.” 

“And as a person?” 

You smile softly, “Sonny is kind, to a fault, but he’s practical, he knows there are grays to S.V.U. cases — he’s seen them firsthand. He knows how to handle tough cases, while having the empathy to handle victims,” Jack nods, sipping at his drink, “now I assume you’re asking for a reason?” 

“Stone resigned,” Jack sighs, “effective immediately — and we’re looking for someone to get their foot in the door — quick.” 

“Peter? What—” 

“It wasn’t the right fit,” he shook his head, “he’s landing on his feet — don’t worry.” 

You frowned, you didn’t know Peter personally, but you had heard stories of him and his father — both were legendary, “I’m sorry to hear that, but,” you tilt your head, “you’re considering Sonny for the position?” 

“Yes, and now hearing what you had to say, I think I will," and you smile, "after an interview, of course." 

"Of course," you shake your head, "I remember interviewing with you."

He raises an eyebrow, "And?" 

"I think I convinced myself you thought I was a moron, until you gave me the offer after a week," he shrugs. 

"Had to make you sweat," he purses his lips, "do you regret saying yes?" 

You glance at the bar, a frown pressing onto your lips, "I regret a lot of things," and your food arrives at the table, and you break your chopsticks, smiling, "but never that." 

You were not happy. 

You hurried up the steps of the Manhattan courthouse — steps you had hoped you wouldn’t have had to hurry up ever again — not only had this case been unceremoniously dumped on the firm with a notice of one whole day, but it had been shafted to you with a whole two hours notice after one of your junior associates called out sick. 

Sick or hungover? You couldn’t tell over from the 4:00 AM message left on your voicemail, but by the sounds of the clinking glasses in the background — they certainly didn’t have the flu.

This was not only the son of one of your firm’s biggest clients — the firm practicing not only criminal defense but also some business law matters. It was a simple case — a white first time offender on a petty marijuana possession — he would likely get no jail time, and get time served at most — with an expungement in the near future. 

But that wasn’t the problem. 

The crime was committed and the son charged in the jurisdiction of Manhattan, so that meant this was in a Manhattan courtroom, one that you hadn’t stepped into in what — two, nearly three years? 

And on top of it all, there was the matter of who the prosecutor was. A silent curse muttered under your breath as you rushed to the courtroom — and it was someone you hadn’t seen in about the same amount of time. 

Why a sex crimes prosecutor was covering for a narcotics case — you didn’t know, but you figured it was either a chance to learn the ropes in different departments or the D.A. needed someone to cover, and the new guy drew the short straw. 

Just your luck.

You stood outside the courtroom, catching your breath, your heart thumping against your ribs — and you didn’t know whether it was from the running or from the fact you were about to see Sonny again for the first time in three years after you kissed him. 

And he didn’t know you were coming. 

Fuck it, you pulled open the door, stepping inside. 

And you saw him— standing where Rafael and you once stood, his eyes first lying on his notes, but drawn to the noise of the creaking door and your footsteps against the marble floor. 

You try not to look at him. You can’t help it, as you pass him by you catch a glimmer of his reaction — shock scrawled plainly across his face, eyes widened and nearly slack jawed. 

“Your Honor, I apologize to you and to my client, ” you spare a small smile to the privileged 18-year-old, Jason Baker, beside you, before your eyes flicker over to Sonny — dress in a pressed suit, his hair slicked back, lips no longer curled in the smile he once had for you, but instead, in a thin line, “ as well as A.D.A. Carisi. I was only informed of this case this morning and I rushed here as soon as I could—” 

“Yes, I understand,” Judge Lopez nods — Lopez being a judge you had dealt with many a time on cases — tough, but always fair, a definite leftist progressive (even by New York standards),  “Do you need a moment to confer with your client?” 

“Just a moment,” you confirmed the details of the case with Jason, before nodding, “I think we’re ready to proceed.” 

The hearing went without much to-do, both of you agreeing to meet about a plea agreement to settle this case out of court. You promised your client you would meet with him after, as Sonny began to make a beeline out of the courtroom. 

You barely caught up to him, on the heels of him striding toward the elevators, jaw set, “Sonny—” 

“Counselor,” he replied coolly, and you frowned, “do you want to set a time for your client’s plea agreement?” 

“Yes, but—” the elevator dings and he steps in without another word. 

“I’ll send you and your office an email,” his smile is curt and cordial, but his words have an edge to them, “nice to see you again.” 

And the doors shut. 

So, you stare at the closed elevator doors, he was mad. 

"Can you believe—" 

Rollins sighs, leaning back against her sofa, head resting against the top, "No I can't, Carisi, just like I couldn't the first twenty times," she murmurs under her breath. 

He pauses, his jaw tight, “Am I annoying you?” 

“No, Sonny, but—” she gestures for him to sit, “you’re stressing me out with all that pacing, can you sit down?” 

Sonny collapsed into a chair, arms crossed and leg still bobbing up and down, “I always thought about what I would say when I saw—” he cuts off, “it was like no time had passed, acting like nothing had happened—” 

Amanda raises an eyebrow, “What did happen between you two?” Sonny falls silent, his eyes falling to the carpeted floor, “this is what I mean, you’re telling me half of the story and expecting me to have a reaction,” she pushes his knee, “what happened?” 

He said nothing, and Amanda sighs, “When I gave you the sweatshirt, you barely said anything, and now you’re not saying anything when you saw—” a cry breaks her sentence off, and they listen as the baby settles back down, “You know I always knew you had a thing for—” 

“I didn’t have a thing—” he cuts off when he sees her raise an eyebrow, “okay maybe I did, but it has nothing to do with this—” 

“If it doesn’t, then why are you mad?” 

“I’m mad,” his voice raises, before she shushes him, and he sighs, apologizing, “I’m angry because I didn’t get a goodbye.”  

You were gone. 

You were gone before he woke up. You were gone from S.V.U. before he came in. You were gone from your apartment when he came knocking — moved out. 

And he was only left with a note and a sweatshirt.

He continues, “I didn’t get a goodbye, but guess who recommended me for the A.D.A. position?” 

It hadn’t been long enough since the last time he had thought about you. And the last time was his interview for the A.D.A. position. 

“I’ll cut to the chase, son,” Jack said, making Sonny sit up straighter in his chair — he had spent the last forty-five minutes trying to impress Jack McCoy only for him to cut the chase now, “You know I’m not the type to mince my words, so I’ll ask you the question that really matters — why should we hire you over other candidates with more experience?” 

This was the question he was dreading — he fought the urge to tug at his collar or wipe the palms down the front of his pants. 

“Honestly, sir, I’ve thought about this question a lot, and yes, I don’t have the legal experience of some of the other candidates,” he didn’t — he had shadowing, he had done clinics, but he hadn’t practiced since being barred, “but I know S.V.U. — more than any of your candidates because I’ve seen these cases firsthand. Not only have I seen the cases, the victims, but I’ve worked with the team — I know the ins and the outs, and I’ve worked with A.D.A.s before—�� he nearly flinched at the thought of you, “I know what I’m getting into — I know a lot of cases aren’t a win and I know we have to push sometimes, and I’m not afraid to do that,” he swallows, his throat dry — unable to discern the expression on Jack’s face, “You’ll have to train any candidate you have — whether they have practiced or not, especially when it comes to S.V.U., but you will have to teach one less thing, and it’s the most important one.” 

And after the longest moment, he smiles, and Sonny can barely hear what he says over his blood roaring in his ears, “I think you’re right,” 

“You do?” 

Jack laughs, “Don’t sound so surprised, Dominick,” he tilts his head, “after hearing you talk about your work in and out of the department, I thought you would have more faith in yourself.” 

And you would think that but— 

“I’ll work on that,” 

Jack smiles, clearing his throat, “Based on that and the recommendation I received from who you shadowed—” 

He frowns, “You talked to someone I shadowed?” 

When your name leaves his lips, he blinks, “Haven’t you spoken—” 

Not since leaving my apartment and disappearing, “Not in a long time,” he gives a tight smile, “How are—” 

“Doing great at Noble-Gordon as a defense attorney in the Bronx — giving the Bronx D.A. hell,” he smiles with pride, and he remembers how you had told him that McCoy had been one of your mentors, the man who had helped you become the attorney you are today — and now he was Sonny’s boss, “Better them than us, right?” 

“Sonny—” Amanda’s voice cuts through his thoughts. 

He gets to his feet again, walking towards the window, “Leaves, and then thinks to interfere in my life, doesn’t even bother to reach out, I haven’t heard a thing in years — years — but still gives me a recommendation,” he gives a bitter chuckle, “apparently our friendship meant that little.” 

Apparently he had meant that little. 

“I’m sorry, Sonny,” 

He shakes his head, “What are you sorry for?” he asks, getting to his feet — I got kissed. I got cut out. And I didn’t even get an explanation — “Nothing happened.” 

“I want jail time,” your head snaps up at the sound of Sonny’s voice, closing the door behind him, as you sat waiting in his office — the one that was next door to your old one, “at least six months.” 

“What?” No greeting, no handshake, no smile — that much you half-expected, but jail time— “it’s a first time offense, and it’s not 1980, we’re not in the war on drugs—” 

Sonny slides into his chair across from you his hands folded, “Counselor, your client isn’t an innocent school boy — he is an adult—” 

“Barely, he just turned 18—” 

“Exactly my point, he’s an adult, and—” 

“And no competent attorney would ever take that deal—” 

Sonny leans back in his seat, “Well a competent attorney would consider any deal in front of them, wouldn’t they?” 

And your eyes narrow, “My client will not accept anything more than probation with no jail time, and hell, maybe we'll even throw in drug tests in, but anything more is a disgrace to the legal system,” 

“Then I guess a jury can decide,” his jaw is set, and you see the quiet anger in his eyes — frigid as an icy lake, one that you were currently drowning in. His chair screeches as he moves to rise, and you stop him. 

“We both know this isn’t about the case, Sonny,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “Are you questioning my prosecutorial authority?” 

“Are you trying to send a barely adult first time offender to jail when it makes absolutely no sense?” he grits his teeth, “is that justice? Is that what you’ve learned in S.V.U.?” 

“I’m sorry that I’m not playing soft ball with you, counselor—” 

“I’m sorry that you’re trying to take your anger at me out on my client,” you snap, rising from the table. And it snaps him into silence, his eyes falling to his notes, brow furrowed, mouth a thin line. Your anger simmers slowly, but as you speak again, your voice is even, but tempered, “The way I see it — we have three options — one, get over yourself and let us make a reasonable plea agreement; two, I get someone else from my office to handle this; or three, we work out our issues like fucking adults and move on with this agreement,” 

His voice is quiet when he speaks, “So are we finally going to act like adults now?” 

You waver, “Sonny—” 

“After you cut me out with no explanation and left, I didn’t realize now we could act like adults,” he flips shut his leather folder, “I apologize for my behavior — maybe you’re right, someone else from your office should handle—” 

“I’m sorry,” you cut him off, and he doesn’t look up, “I’m so sorry, Sonny, I didn’t mean to—” you swallow, fuck, “I thought — I thought it would be easier after—” 

“Easier? For you or for me?” 

The truth cut deep, especially when you know it was true, “You’re right — I know, what I did,” you sigh, “It was awful — I was so embarrassed after how I treated you, after I kiss—” you break off, “I know I have a lot of things to make up for, but I want you to know that I didn’t cut you off because of anything you did — even if you know that already — it was me, I didn’t want to burden you—” 

“How did you think cutting me off wasn’t going to burden me?” his words are softer, but sharper, digging into your chest with the guilt you knew was yours only to bear, “how did you think losing one of my friends wasn’t going to— you kissed me after I picked you up, and then nothing for three years. Nothing.” 

“I wanted to call, I wanted to text—” 

“Then why didn’t you?” and you wonder if this is how a suspect felt when they were being interrogated by him, but surely his eyes weren’t nearly this glassy with emotions then, “You promised me — you promised me you would be there for me—” 

Your voice breaks, “Sonny—” 

“Do you know the hell I’ve gone through?” His voice is quiet, “do you know?” 

And you didn’t, “I don’t,” your words are quiet. “Because you’re right — it was easier, after what happened — not with you — with everything else, it was easier to cut ties and move on. It was easier to pretend none of it happened,” you admit, “but it wasn’t right — and I can’t change that. But I’m sorry,” you add, “and I know I have a lot of making up to do, if we ever can get to that point again, I would like to try.” 

His expression is inscrutable — and you know Sonny has changed, you could read him so easily before — an open book who’s pages that you had familiarized yourself with, his emotions scrawled clearly across his brow, nose, lips, and eyes. And now you could barely make out a single word. 

“Try?” 

“Try to be your friend,” you bite your lip, wringing your hands in your lap, “I missed you, Sonny, and I know I don’t have a right to say that, but I did. And seeing you has only made me realize how shitty I’ve been — please?” 

A frown pulls at his lips, and he wavers, before rising, tucking his folder into his briefcase, “Probation with weekly drug tests, and I want him do some community service—” 

“But—” 

“He’s spent years with a silver spoon in his mouth — let’s try to fix that,” and you tilt your head, hiding a smile. 

“I’ll talk to him about it,” you get up too, beginning to pack up your things even as you watch him turn to the door, “Can we discuss it over lunch? My treat.” 

He pauses, his back turned,  “I’m a little busy these next few weeks,” 

You wave him off, feeling your chest squeeze, rejection stinging — as it should, as you deserve — “Of course," nothing was that simple — trust was easy to lose, hard to get back. 

“But how about I call you?” you blink, as he looks over his shoulder, there’s a hint of a sigh in his throat, a certain sort of begrudged reluctance, but still an almost undetectable smile ghosts his lips — and you’ll take it. 

“You got it,” But it wasn’t impossible to earn trust back. Your heart swells with hope, your hand brushing as your hand moves to hold the door open — and you would get it back, one way or another. 

“Penny for your thought, counselor?” Sonny’s head snaps up, finding you standing, suit jacket slung over your arm, a smile on your lips, “I would say a dollar, but I know you took quite a pay cut compared to your old job.” 

“But I could make a buck prosecuting you for stalking,” and you scoff, looking at the table strewn with pages of briefs and yellow legal pads marked in reds, blacks and blues. It had been your fifth time running into him the last few weeks — and you had weaseled your way into conversations, though not a lunch. You were trying to earn his trust back, and you had gotten a little closer each time, but it didn’t mean it was all over and done with. 

The distrust still sat squarely in his expression — but this time it was being overwritten by something else — stress. 

You gape at him, affronted, “Forlini’s was mine before it was yours, thank you very much,” you gesture to the seat across from him, he grunts, nodding and you slide in, “I think I can settle for joint custody if you can.” 

“I’d fight ya on it, but,” he sighs, eyes flickering back to his notes, “I got my hands full already.” 

You purse your lips when you see the heaviness in his brow, “What’s wrong?” 

He gives a grim smile, “You already know what’s wrong,” 

Yes, you knew it well — your first tough case had the ability to unravel you to pieces, especially one from S.V.U., “Well, the facts aren’t any different when you’re the prosecutor versus the detective,” 

“But the job is completely different,” he shakes his head, covering his face, before wiping his palm down it, “and I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

You frown, “Have you eaten?” 

“Eating isn’t the problem,” he shoves his papers aside, a few wrinkling and falling under the booth, the legal pad slamming against the end of the booth. He squeezes his eyes shut, before relaxing, “sorry, I—” 

“No, trust me,” you catch a glimpse of the photos of one of the victims — a bruised and battered girl no older than fifteen, “I get the frustration, but you know there’s only so much you can do in these cases.” 

“I’m not doing enough,” he leans on his elbow, his fist pressed to his mouth, before resting it against his forehead, “I don’t know what I’m doing. I have my first grand jury tomorrow and I don’t even know what I’m doing.”  

“Sonny,” you resist the urge to reach out to him, “you can do this.” 

“You would say that,” he mutters, and you tilt your head,  “you recommended me for the job, McCoy told me.” 

“I didn’t recommend you — Jack was already looking at you, he asked for my opinion and I gave it,” you raise an eyebrow, “do I need to tell you now?” 

He shakes his head, “I—” 

“Sonny,” he looks up at you, “I have not an inch of doubt in your abilities — I’ve seen you grow as a detective and as a law student, and now,” you smile softly, “I’ve seen you grow as an attorney the last few weeks. You are ready — you know why?” 

He sighs, his hands folded on the table, “Because of my training?” 

“No,” you say, and he frowns, “because you are sensitive and kind, but you are also tough — tough enough to make the hard calls,” your hand brushes his tentatively, hovering before settling, “weren’t you nervous before becoming a detective? When you were a cop?” 

“I was, but I was confident, bordering on arrogant — I always went in, guns blazing, so to speak,” he adds, shaking his head at the implication, “now, I’m—” 

“Now you’re cautious — it comes with experience, that’s normal and good — overconfidence bites you in the ass, every time,” you squeeze his hand, “you will do great — and more importantly,” he raises his gaze to meet yours, “you will do your job and do it well — and that’s all you can do.” 

He purses his lips, “You really believe in me?” 

You scoff at his disbelief, “Sonny, I’ll always bet on you — every single time,” his gaze softens, a smile gracing his lips and your stomach flips when he squeezes your hand back. 

“Thank you,” his words are as soft as his touch, his fingers intertwined with yours for a moment, and your eyes flicker across his face — how was it you never realized just how beautiful he was? 

And the moment is broken when he pulls his hand away, gathering all his materials and slipping them into his bag, “If you need any help—” 

He frowns, “Y’know as well as I do that these cases are—” 

“I meant with your self-esteem or advice about how to phrase questions — no specifics and no actual questions,” you cross your arms, “I know about confidentiality and professional responsibility, counselor — I have been at this longer than you have. You could afford to take my advice.” 

He raises an eyebrow, teasing, “Pulling seniority? You’re not at the D.A.’s office anymore,” 

“But I know your boss,” you tease right back, and he rolls his eyes, as you lean forward, “and it’s ‘counselor’ to you,” 

He dares forward, “Well, counselor,” he replies, lips curled in a smile, “I’ll take it under advisement, and I’ll give my boss your best,” And he slips from the booth, pausing only to add, “do this again?” 

And you can’t hide your smile, “Next week?” 

He nods, slipping out of the doors from Forlini’s and you watch him, your eyes falling across the bar — and the two seats where you had sat, now reupholstered and refurbished — and then back again to the door he left from, before turning back to your booth. As you sat, his smile and the faint fluttering left in your chest, a smile you couldn’t stave off 

Things really did change, didn’t they? 

“Trial’s in a few weeks?” and Sonny nods, Rollins sips at her drink, “you have to testify, Amanda?” 

“Unfortunately,” she jerks a thumb towards Sonny, setting her drink down on the counter of the bar, “he’s been prepping me and it’s somehow worse than Barba.” 

The sting of his name hurt less, your easy smile not wavering, “I find that hard to believe,” 

“Oh believe me,” Amanda turns to Sonny, who sips at his drink sheepishly, “how long did we practice yesterday?” 

“Not important,” he brushes her remark off, as you and Amanda share a look and chuckle, “I just want to be ready — Hadid has been all over me about this trial. If she’s been looking for an excuse to fire me, this would be the perfect one.” 

“Hey,” your hand finds his, “you’re going to do great. You have practiced your closing a thousand times — I’ve heard it half a million times — you know what the points you have to make are. I know you’re ready.” 

He squeezes your hand back, smiling softly, “Thank you,” and butterflies bloom under his steady gaze, before he slips from the stool, “I’m going to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” his hand grazes your back before he finds his way to the restroom. 

You sip at your drink, before you find Amanda staring at you. You frown, placing the drink down, “What?” 

“What’s going on between you two?” 

You wrinkle your brow, as Amanda scratches her brow, her lips pursed.“What do you mean?” 

“I don’t want to get involved, but,” she craned her neck to check if Sonny was gone, “I know something happened between you two before you left,” Your head snaps to your drink, biting your lip, “I may be a detective, but it doesn’t take a genius to see that you two, whatever this is,” she gestures, “it’s not just a friendship,” 

You blink — but wasn’t it? “But—” 

“I don’t know how you feel, but I’m not blind,” she tilts her head, trying to catch your gaze, “just don’t hurt him okay?” 

“Amanda—” 

“I don’t need to hear specifics about what happened,” she shrugs, “I just want him to be okay ‘cause he may not be my partner now, but he is my best friend.” 

You nod, “Of course, I won’t, Amanda — I care about him too.”

But it was complicated. 

It was simple before — but it was different — you were in love with someone else — blinded. Sonny was your friend, one of your closest, but a friend nonetheless. Your stomach didn’t flip when you saw him, you didn’t text him so often, there weren't brief touches that you wished would last forever — like there was now. 

And you couldn’t deny it forever. 

Amanda chuckles, shaking her head, “I can’t believe I just said Carisi is my best friend,” 

You smile, “Guess he really grew on you after he shaved the ‘stache,” 

Amanda raised her eyebrows, snorting, “Like an infection,” 

You grinned, sipping at your drink, “What are you two laughing at?” and both of you share a smile, “what?” 

“Nothing, Sonny,” Amanda waves him off, “I gotta go — babysitter’s time is almost up, and I have to check on the girls,” Amanda nods at you, “It was nice to see you again, counselor.” 

“Same here, Amanda,” and she nods at Sonny, slipping from the bar, as he takes her seat, leaning against the counter, his knee brushing yours. The low light of the bar catches in his eyes, a dark blue that makes your heart stutter a moment as his lips curl into a smile. And you remember the moment you kissed him. 

“Now what?” you blink, biting your lip. 

Would it be so bad to fall in love with him?

To fall in love with an A.D.A. again? Falling into old habits?

“Walk me home?”  

And fall you would. 

~~~

It wasn’t a walk so much as it was a subway ride away and a walk to your apartment, “Do you ever miss the D.A.’s office?” and you spare a glance at Sonny. 

“Why? Want another person bossing you around the office?” he chuckles, licking his lips.

“When you put it like that,” and you laugh, “no, I just mean—” 

“You mean if I ever miss being on the right side of justice?” and he opens his mouth to retort, “I’m joking, Sonny — I mean criminal defense is a different way I can do justice — I get to take on a lot of the firm’s pro bono work and I get to help people who are at the lowest points of their lives put it back together.” 

“Even murderers?” he frowns. 

You bite your lip, “You saw the Ortiz case on the news didn’t you?” Ortiz, a husband who murdered his wife in cold blood — or that was the story the media and prosecutors’ were selling, “Did you read his interview?” 

He raises an eyebrow, “No?” 

“It turns out his wife had been abusive for years — verbally, emotionally, and physically—” your shoes scrape against the pavement, “he snapped when she turned it on their son.” 

“Is that an excuse—” 

“Yes, by law it is — it isn’t premeditated murder, it’s manslaughter,” you slip your hands into your pockets, “but even then, do people get any better locked up in cages?” 

“Do you think they should be—” 

“Walking free and clear? No,” you look up at the sky, “but you know in Sweden — they have one of, if not the, lowest recidivism rates? They have less than 4,000 prisoners, compared to America’s millions. It’s because they focus on rehabilitation, not punishment. Instead of locking up people in tiny cells and inhumane conditions, they give them care in all aspects of their lives — education, psychological help, medical — everything,” Sonny opens his mouth to interject, and you hold your hands up, “I’m not saying all people are capable of reform — but a lot of them are, and don’t we owe people that chance?” 

“But with S.V.U.—”

“With S.V.U., it’s more complicated — I won’t deny that, rapists are more likely to victimize again compared to other crimes,” you shake your head, “I don’t have all the answers, but I know locking people up and having them be victimized in prison isn’t the answer,” you offer a small smile, “but to answer your question, I miss the people, but I’m happy where I landed. I think it’s the right place for me.” 

“How do you know? I mean, how do you know it’s the right place?” 

You shrug, “You just feel it after some time—” you tilt your head, “where’s this coming from?” 

Sonny sighs, “I got a big case coming up in a week,” his hands slipped into his pockets, “My first trial.” 

“Hadid letting you off the leash?” he barks out a laugh. 

“Barely,” he shakes his head, “not that I blame her — this job, I swear I come home more tired than I did chasing down perps.” 

“That seems like a stretch, and hindsight bias,” you add, elbowing him before rubbing your shoulders, biting back a shiver — wearing only a suit coat out was a mistake, “besides I know you can handle it.” 

He unwraps his scarf, as you open your mouth to protest, but the scarf is already around your neck, and you can’t help but smile — it smells like him — “Sometimes I think you have more faith in me than I do,” 

“I have enough faith in you for the both of us,” you pull the scarf  snug around yourself, resisting the urge to bury your nose in it. You bite your lip, “is the gallery open to the public?” 

“Think so,” he nods. 

“Do you want me to be there in court?” the words come out carefully — afraid to cross a line you weren’t sure was there. 

“Watching the case?” 

“Just the verdict,” you say, “I didn’t get to be there for you when you passed the bar or when you got hired at the D.A.’s office — we could get dinner after — guilty verdict or not.” 

“Not gonna disappear on me for three years, are you?” you flinch, and he sighs, “sorry that came out wrong—” 

“It’s okay,” you smile ruefully, “I kind of deserved it, but,” you add, “I’m not going anywhere — and this time I mean it.” 

The quiet settled over you both for a moment, and you knew he was going to ask — you knew he was working up the courage to do so, “Why did you leave?” you cross your arms, “you don’t—” 

“I want to,” you shake your head — and you could see Rafael’s smile, feel his touch, and see his heart break — “It’s just complicated.” 

“So complicated that you had to leave?” he pressed, and you nodded. 

“I didn’t want to — but I had to,” you glance at him, see his brows knit together, “but the one thing I regretted and I will always regret is leaving you too, and I promise, I won’t do it again,” you reach for his hand, your fingers intertwining, just as you reach the doorstep of your apartment, “you can hold me to that.” 

He stares down at you, the flickering light of your apartment barely illuminating his face, but a soft smile on his lips, “I will, sweetheart,” and warmth bloomed in your stomach — no, you really couldn’t deny it anymore could you? But he squeezes your hand, stepping back, “See you in a week?” 

You lick your lips, heart thumping in your ears — you nod, “Yeah,” you feel his coat around your shoulders, “oh your scar—” 

He waves you off, “Keep it,” he walks down your steps, turning around, pointing a finger at you, grinning, “But make sure Rollins isn’t the one bringing it by.” 

You hear the humor in his voice and smile, “No promises.” 

And you spare one more glance at his returning back, before slipping inside your apartment building and into your apartment. Your fingers fisted in the soft red cotton of his scarf — your cheeks and heart warm.  

Oh, what were you getting yourself into? 

Sonny tried not to glance behind him — you still hadn’t arrived. His nerves were shot after this week — everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong. 

Of course it did — it did little to inspire faith in himself, or in Hadid for that matter. 

“All rise,” Judge Abbas said, and Sonny had to stop himself from jumping to his feet — he knew, he knew in his gut that he had given his best case, though this case was sticky to begin with, “Foreperson of the jury, what say you on the charge of rape in the second degree?” 

Sonny’s heart jumped into his throat, blood roaring in his ears, and he barely caught the verdict, mouth dry — the feeling of the victims’ gazes boring into the back of his head. 

“We find the defendant guilty,” and he nearly couldn’t believe it — he had done it, they had done it. The judge announces they will reconvene for sentencing in two weeks. He turns around, shaking the hands of the victims, thanking them for their testimony, sparing one glance at the defendant. 

Adneradline and relief is pumping through him, his chest lighter — he had done it, he had gotten justice. 

And then he sees you — through the crowd, you’re standing by the door, smiling brightly at him, mouthing congratulations, jerking your head and slipping from the courtroom. He nearly trips over himself to get to you, trying to maintain decorum as he leaves through the double doors. He slips by people he knows and those he doesn’t until finally he finds you in a discrete corner of the courthouse, away from prying eyes and reporters. 

“Sonny, I’m so proud of you,” you say, your hands on his shoulders, your lips curled in a smile he hoped that was just for him, “I knew you could do it,” 

And you did — you had told him he could do it time and time again when he didn’t believe in himself, you had been there for him, as you promised to be. 

Everything slows for a moment. 

And he couldn’t help think you were the only one he needed to believe in him, to be by his side, the one he wanted to tell good news first, the one he wanted to wake up beside in the morning. He’s breathless as he looks at you, and you seem to realize — the air between you two becoming thick, as he looms closer, a bag on your arm, slipping to your fingers now.  

“Sonny,” you breathe, as you tilt your head upwards to look into his eyes.

And he knows this may be a mistake — the last time he kissed you, you disappeared, and every relationship he’s had has ended in disaster, but he can’t bring himself to care — not when he could kiss you again. 

“Can I kiss you?” the words slip past his lips without much to-do, and he has to stop himself from biting his tongue or stumbling back, especially when you nod, and his lips crash to yours. 

His kiss is still hesitant, and so are you, your lips parting and meeting again and again — chaste, but he tasted you — and he swore he never tasted anything like you before, nothing so sweet. And he pulls away a moment, eyes fluttering and he sees your eyes do the same. And his heart is in his throat again — what if you thought it was a mistake? 

But you only smile, your warm hand cupping his cheek, the bag slipping from your fingers, as the other intertwines with his fingers, “Where do you think you’re going?” 

And you kiss him again, and he doesn’t hold back this time, his arms wrapping around you, tugging you impossibly closer, smiling against your lips. And he couldn’t help but think — as warmth bloomed in his stomach, your fingers curling in his hair — how did he ever get so lucky?

[mxvladdy]

Self Indulgent B-Day HCs

It’s my birthday and Obey Me has watered by crops with 5 UR cards in a row and phone calls so have some fluff with NSFWish stuff at the end 

Presents the boys get you. (NSFWish)

Lucifer 

A custom leather tote bag

Made with the softest leather and embroidered with your favorite pattern (And his pact mark on the inside cover so he can keep you safe)

It’s large enough for school and fashionable enough to be used for social outings

A private dinner at a restaurant of your choice

An evening alone at a high-end establishment

You pick a human realm restaurant you’d always dreamed of going to from all those travel shows you watch

He’s never been there either so it's a treat for both of you, sampling the regional and chief’s specialties before being whisked off to wherever else you wanted to go for dessert

Day ends in his bed- If you want it

He’s spent the day pampering you so why not the evening too

For once he lets you take the lead. Whatever you desire you get.

Ultimate service top for this occasion

If you say no that’s fine too. At least let him indulge in your company a bit more with some drinks and conversation. But it’s up to you.

It’s your special day after all

Mammon

Personalized necklace

Don’t say the Great Mammon never got ya nothin’!

It’s a beautiful and simple piece. A slim gold chain with your birthstone embedded in the beak of a small crow. Gotta remind the other demons who is looking out for ya

What makes it doubly special is that you know he saved up to get you this. No witches, schemes or older brother’s involved in this

Private photoshoot

He’s got some connections and a few favors way past due

Let him treat ya.

You pick the theme, the dress, and the makeup. He’s got his whole crew there to make this perfect.

Has a blast posing next to you knowing that no one else in the realms will get to see these photos.

Just you and him. Like it should be.

Has his favorite framed and tucked away in his room so none of the other brothers can find it

Day ends in his bed- If you want it

A blushing bravado fueled mess when he asks. Palm sweaty in yours.

It’s how he would want his birthday to end so like obviously you’d want the same too, right?

If not, that cool. Can he at least cuddle with ya on his couch with a movie? He doesn’t want this day to end yet.

If you say yes well be ready for a ride! You ain’t lifting a finger. He reads your body like a book and makes sure you're happy and satisfied before turning to his own needs.

Leviathan

A video game

Not just any game of course! What do you take him for some kinda normie?

This game is a two-player with a twist. It’s only made for two players, the first two to ever log in are bound to it.No one else can play this with you but him.

Bonus! You can play it with him even after you have to return to the human realm. It’ll be like you never left.

He’ll spend hours showing you the ropes then another couple just enjoying a game with you and unlocking all the achievements.

Day at the beach

You're lucky he likes you. Leaving his room is an ordeal for him

But you’ve been begging for a while to go swimming with him in his demon form. You had heard he’s a great swimmer.

He can’t really say no to that now can he?

Takes you to collect seashells and deep diving for treasure (he knows a few spells so you could breathe underwater like him)

Day ends in his tub bed- If you want to

Like Mammon is an absolute mess at the idea

But is sweet about it if you say no. Well instead ask to just chill and cuddle. Probably drift off watching the sea creatures in his tank swim by in lazy circles.

If you say yes he is an enthusiastic demon and will treat you like the protagonist in all his favorite animes

Satan

A person book of poetry

He’s been around a while and has studied enough books that he is good with just about every form of literature

It’s a sweet gift. A slim leather-bound book, the pages embossed with gold and tiny runes that make the little cat doodles he’s drawn about the pages move on their own.

The book is filled with little poems or short letters that he has written over a year of getting to know you. Just little things like evenings out together or group misadventure.  

Trip to the human realm to visit any museum of your choosing

Taking him to a museum is the best idea. He knows all the little details that have been lost to time or that humans just couldn’t understand.

Takes special pride in talking about events he had witnessed first hand or caused.

Buys you a souvenir from all the places you visit and will drag you into a photo booth. Say hello to his new favorite bookmark

Day ends in his bed- If you want to

Won’t push the subject obviously. But his little kisses and touches are a clear giveaway to his intentions of the night.

If you decide otherwise then allow him to escort you to your room, or perhaps sit with him in the music room for a bit longer? High key just stole a good bottle of whiskey from Lucifer and he still has so many stories he wants to share.

If you say yes. You’re in for a helluva night. He could let you take the lead. But he’s not and you’ll thank him for it

Asmodeus

Resort trip

He had this one booked in advance. Devildom hot springs and spas are a no-go for humans so he found the absolute perfect one in the human realm.

Got the honeymoon package bc he’s extra and wants to go all out. Plus this package has simply the cutest gourmet tea cakes and complimentary champagne.

Makes you spend the whole day relaxing with him. You’re always too tense in his eyes. Made for the skin. Come soak a bit with him!

Shopping spree

Whatever you want you got today! Within reason. He can’t let you buy anything ugly!

Helps pick out a few new outfits and highly recommended skincare products.

If you let him will buy you some tasteful lingerie. Trust him, whether it's for him or devil forbid one of his brothers he wants you looking fabulous.

Regales you with stories of his younger years and the different eras of fashion. Honestly, the corset wasn’t that bad! It made his waistline look so good! Lead makeup was a no- ugh could you image? Not on your pretty face!  

Day ends in bed- if you want to

If you want to give him a private showing of all the outfits you bought he won’t say no. If you want to show him the undergarments he will definitely be enthusiastic.

If not oh well! He has a strict sleep schedule so he’ll wind down for the night. You are welcome to join him in his bedroom if you want. He just changed his sheets for the season and they are as close to heaven as he’ll ever get again.

If you do how exciting. He has so many tips and tricks he knows you’ll appreciate. The pampering doesn’t stop until you can’t handle it anymore.

Beelzebub

Breakfast in bed

This was a herculean effort for him. The first two meals got eaten on the way to your room :(

But when he gets it to you it’s the best! There is plenty to share too. He has a real talent for breakfast foods

Spends the time while you eat asking what you want to fo for your birthday if anything at all.

He has plans to take you cafe hopping and then a walk up the forest path

Cafe Hopping and a walk

He treats you to any fancy treat you like and walks you around the Devildom proper pointing at all the interesting historic monuments and places

He helps take lots of pics of all the fancy foods and cute presentations before digging in

If you need a break no worries from walking or just full from too much good food no problem. You want to sit or maybe a piggyback ride back to the house

A very low key birthday present but that the best kind sometimes

Day ends in bed- if you want to

Doesn’t really think about it until you hint at it. He’s dtf if you are. He is still kinda hungry ;)

Always sweet on you in and out of the bedroom and today is no different. He doesn’t want you to get hurt.

If you don’t bring it up he won’t bring it up. Would much rather just hang out and talk till you fall asleep then make you uncomfortable

Belphegor

Botanical Garden tour

Loves the Devildom one so maybe he will like the human realm ones too

The most energetic you’ve ever seen him. Sure he walks slow and sits down at every opportunity

Stops at the butterfly habitat it’s a mutual favorite.

Buys you a super soft plushie from the gift shop. Can’t have a birthday without a physical present

Movie night

No one else is invited. Not even Beel. He remembers you talking about your favorite movie once and bought the directors cut to watch with you.

Love or hate the film he tries his best to stay up for the whole thing

Only dozes off once

Day ends in bed- if you want to

He could sleep or spend the night with you whatevs.

If you want to watch another movie and sleep sweet

If you want to do more well-say no more

He’s got enough energy for some fun  

[fbfh]

light up the dark [V] - leo x reader

genre: romance + action + enemies to lovers kinda

word count: 2.4k

au: none

pairing: Leo x gothy!child of eros!fem reader

requested: yes teehee

warnings: spoilers for HOO but like what’s new, at least one fuck, mentions of breakfast foods and burger king, one “cranberry fucknut”, brief visit to a historical memorial site, I think that’s it????

summary: you have a very weird dream that leads you to realize you’re actually on some kind of quest! very fun! you, Leo, and Jason follow a lead, find out Chiron’s sending you guys some backup, and realize you’re going to need a very large airbnb

listen to: making mirrors - gotye aka the best dream sequence music

                also we’re the rats. it’s not relevant just living in my brain.

a/n: honest to god it tookme so long to write this i forget what happens in the first half rip

also requests r open uwu

Your dream is unnerving, and not just because you had spent years in a dreamless sleep and forgot what dreaming was like. Okay, partially because of that, but also because of the atmosphere. 

You’re standing in a dark room. It’s pitch black, but you can make out the shape of the room, which is unusual to say the least. It’s long and rectangular, and the ceiling has cylindrical indents, almost as if giant logs were supposed to fit there. The indents go across the short side, with another in front of it, like a rope bridge across a river. Giant curved metallic discs like flat mushrooms are embedded in the ground at regular intervals. 

You get the feeling something’s missing. You stare up at the ceiling trying to get more information, when something hot and glowing presses against the roof. It shines through, casting everything in a strange pink light. You can’t see it, but you know what it is. A translucent sundial that gave off a glowing orange cast.

Sunstone. 

You look back down not wanting to hurt your eyes, and they fall on someone else in the room. He hadn’t been there a second ago. He’s blonde, and looking up at the ceiling, seemingly unbothered by the blinding light. 

“He has it,” he says, wistfully, almost regretfully. 

"Who?" You question. 

"I can't pronounce his name, no one can."

"How can we get it back if we can't find him?" He smiles, liking how you know what he needs you to do before he even tells you. 

"I can't tell you his name, but he's very old… some may even say archaic…" He looks at you with intention, searching for a spark of understanding. He doesn’t find what he’s looking for, and continues, “and not far from here. Which is good, since I need you to get it back for me.” 

“How do we find it?” He tosses you a small, clear container filled with what looks like yellow slime. You look at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“It’s a drop of sunshine,” he explains, “don’t touch it or you’ll burn up. It’ll glow when you get closer to what you’re looking for.” You tuck it in your jacket pocket.

“Can-”

Before you can get out the rest of the sentence, you feel like you’re being pulled out of deep water. Your eyes shoot open, and you take in a quick breath through your nose. You open and close your eyes a few times, and push yourself into a sitting position. There’s a weight on your stomach and you trace the hand back to Jason, who had gently nudged you awake moments ago. His mouth is open and there’s a stale smile, like he was about to tell you to rise and shine. Your stare is unwavering, and he retracts his hand. 

“Uh… breakfast is ready,” he says, turning back and heading over to the couch. 

“Kay,” you mutter, still groggy and disoriented. Maybe sleep just isn’t for you. Jason hesitates about half way across the room, noticing the lack of cat-like vengefulness in your tone of voice.

“...You okay?” he asks softly. 

“Fine, just a weird dream,” you roll your shoulders, back sore and stiff, to try and loosen the two stubborn knots just below your shoulder blades. His eyebrows furrow at your words and you continue, “I’m starting to think I should add a little chloroform to my sleepy time tea.” 

“What happened?” he asks, sounding way more serious than you’d expected.

“I dunno, I-” he cut you off, calling for Leo. Jason encourages you to tell them what you’d dreamed about as in depth as possible once Leo comes in from the sitting area, so you don’t have time to gauge how he seems after last night. You feel a little silly trying to describe a surreal dream to them, especially since they seem to be paying such rapt attention. After recalling as many details as you could, they sat in silence for a minute. They share a look, then sigh in unison. Jason pushes up his glasses and squeezes the bride of his nose as Leo lets out a soft ‘fuck’. 

“I’ll go iris message Chiron, Leo, do you want to get some food and offerings to burn?” Jason says. Leo agrees, and Jason’s already in the sitting area, misting water in the air with a squirt bottle. Leo puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Why don’t you get dressed, I already made some coffee,” he says, the spike of hesitance that shot through his stomach at his instigated physical contact dissolving when you nod sleepily. An unusually warm feeling clouds through you, less distant and detached than normal. You realize while digging through your bag that for whatever reason, you didn’t hate the feeling of Leo’s hand on your shoulder. You grab your clothes from your bag, and feel a weight in your jacket. You reach into the pocket, and pull out the “slime” from your dream. It glows briefly, fading as you walk towards the bathroom. Huh, you think, at least now we know what to look for. You’re grateful for the example as you get dressed and freshen up, wondering what the hell happens next. 

Burning the food doesn’t take long. Leo throws the extra breakfast they’d ordered onto the metal table on the patio, except for a piece of toast he held in his hands. He summons fire until the toast is engulfed in flames, and drops it with the rest. He fans the smoke and asks for guidance, protection, typical pre quest stuff. After a minute or two, he pours out a pitcher of water to extinguish the flames, and heads back into the sitting area with Jason. On his way, he watches you through the open bathroom door for a second as you put on your makeup. You sure are different from girls he’d liked in the past. A strong twinge of pain from the previous night makes him flinch. He shoves it away, and takes a seat, greeting Chiron through iris message. Jason had just finished filling him in on the dream and the sundial, and he looks worried.

“I was afraid this might be the case. I'd gotten word that something like this might have happened, but I hoped it was just hearsay… I'm sorry boys, but you're most definitely on a mission from the gods. The story behind that sundial is long and complicated; in summary, if Apollo does not have his sundial by june, summer cannot happen."

"Wh- like, time will stop?" Leo says. 

"Will it just skip to autumn?" Jason adds. 

"What about Persephone?"

"Can Demeter do anything?" 

Chiron holds up his hands to quiet them. 

"I wish I could say, but no one really knows what will happen, only that we do not wish to find out."

"So, what do we do?" Jason asks. 

"Who can I send?" Chiron says to himself, "Dear gods, this is… unfortunate."

"Chiron," Jason says again, getting his attention. 

"Right, I'm sorry my boy, this whole situation is… preoccupying." Jason agrees, and asks what they should do next. 

"Get as much information as you can from what Apollo has told you. I'll gather some people to send over at once, they'll be on their way shortly. This is most distressing…" he trails off, lost in thought again, and the iris message cuts out. Jason's stomach is in knots. 

After freshening up, you get dressed, having chosen your clothes deliberately before. If shit’s about to hit the fan, which it looks like it is, you’re going to need a strong balance of comfortable and kick ass. Plus, it’s still the cold part of spring, and New England weather is no joke. 

You assess yourself in the mirror, satisfied with your choice; half black half gray cargo pants with chain belts, a long sleeved fishnet top with a black crop top over it, and one of your favorite pairs of platform boots. You topped it off with a layered choker studded with black jewels and delicate chains, asymmetrical earrings - one attached to an ear cuff, the other dangling - and a ring that looks like a snake wrapped around your finger. Last but not least, a dark olive green bomber jacket with ‘god save the queen’ written on the back in paint. 

Your mind wanders as you lean closer to the mirror, laser focused on perfecting your eyeliner. The memory of Leo’s hand on your shoulder creeps back up, and your brow furrows at the panicked flush to your cheeks, wondering why you didn’t push him off. 

‘Some cranberry fucknut broke his heart last night, I didn’t want him to feel worse’, you think deliberately, refusing room for any objections or alternative solutions your brain keeps offering up. You finish your makeup relatively quickly, pleased at how much better it looks when you don’t sleep in it for years. Your hair is… hanging in there, but you can’t drop everything and redye it now. At least you know what color you want next - a nice, coral tinted red. You’ll have to keep an eye out the next time you go shopping. 

Finally, you’re ready. You put away your makeup and pajamas, and make your way over to the boys. You grab some coffee and pick at a muffin, the strategy session beginning. 

Jason takes a sip of his own coffee, scowling at the slightly burnt taste.

“Where should we start looking? Do we have any decent leads?”

You sip your coffee, your face mirroring Jason’s moments before.

“The guy from my dream-”

“Apollo,” Jason interjects.

“Right,” you continue, “he said whoever has what we’re looking for has a really hard to pronounce name or something. Maybe we can start there.”

After some back and forth, and consulting of travel guides, you find a memorial for some historical figure with a name that definitely would have gotten him bullied. 

“Wasn’t that guy a demigod?” Leo asks, and Jason confirms. You’re already checking the maps scattered around for a route.

“It looks like it’s pretty much just further west from where we are, we can probably get there pretty easily,” you remark. Jason and Leo look at you, then each other. No one has any better ideas, and at least it’s some kind of lead. 

~

Four and a half hours later, you sat in the car in stumped silence. It took almost three hours to get up to the memorial site, an hour to look around and realize there is absolutely nothing there that can help you at all, ten minutes to debate what to do next, and twenty minutes to get burger king, since no one had eaten since breakfast. 

“Well, that sucked.” 

Leo and Jason give you a look, knowing you’re right.

“Yeah, it did.” Jason agrees matter of factly, earning a small chuckle from you and Leo. 

“So what do we do now?” Leo asks. 

“Well, no one’s around, we could probably iris message Chiron-” before he could finish his sentence, a shimmery image of a tan girl with choppy dark hair appears in front of him. 

Jason and the girl - Piper, apparently - greet each other enthusiastically, then Leo follows suit. It looks like she’s in a cab, holding something at arm's length. You make it out to be a phone, probably to trick her cab driver into thinking she’s on a facetime call or something. Two other people lean over, one blonde and smiling, the other dark haired and irritable, and more greetings are exchanged. You lean slightly to the side so you’ll be out of site and hopefully won’t have to make any introductions. Leo seems to catch onto this, and when Piper’s eyes land on the edge of your shoulder.

“So did Chiron send anyone else?” he asks before she can say anything. 

“Yeah,” she replies, “Frank and Hazel are coming from camp Jupiter; Frank’s flying, and Hazel’s getting a ride from Arion,” Leo and Jason nod in understanding, picking up instantly on her deliberate word choice. Christ, you’re going to have to get a bigger place than that hotel room.  

“Uh… Percy and Annabeth just started spring break, so they’ll be coming soon. Hazel should get there first, for…” she glances at the cab driver, “obvious reasons, and me, Nico, and Will are on our way now, we should be there in a few hours.” 

Your skin is already feeling prickly from the idea of being around that many people. They talk for a few more minutes, and Jason says he’ll tell them the specific address as soon as possible before ending the call.

Thankfully, you all had repacked the car with your bags from the hotel room before you left, just in case you needed anything, so there’s no need to make the two and a half hour trip back to the hotel. You sigh and turn to the boys.

“Why don’t we go get some groceries and stuff, and I can get us an air bnb.” 

They agree, pleasantly surprised and grateful for the normalcy of something like grocery shopping,  and you ask how many people there are going to be.

“Uh, should be te-”

“Eleven.” Leo says firmly. Jason looks like he’s going to say something, but he bites back whatever it is. Leo’s hands normally dance around like swirling snow, light and natural with subtle patterns if you can figure them out. But right now, his normal subconscious movements seem to be heavier, more intentional. His relaxed expression is set in stone, a silent plea to move on, act like everything’s normal, and you know he’s covering up the depth of the wound that girl left on his heart. A twinge of concern flares in your gut, and you blink, looking away. 

“Okay,” you say, pulling out a pen and notepad from your bag to write out a grocery list, “Let’s go. What do we need?”

Jason pulls out of the parking lot, and begins to head to the nearest box store. Your eyes dart over to Leo involuntarily a few times, and by the time you’re almost there, he seems to be almost back to himself. Subconsciously relieved, your mind starts to wander back to the list, skimming it one more time to make sure you don’t forget anything. 

Maybe you can pick up some hair dye while you’re here.

[milstrim]

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 6: That I Would Be Good

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

---

When Peter woke up, it was horribly bright. His eyes opened a sliver only to be immediately squeezed shut with a groan, a sensory overload surely on its way as the harsh yellow light broke through even his tightly shut eyes. He could already feel the migraine, but the teenager pushed it down as the memories of what had happened flooded back.

The ferry. Mr. Stark. The suit. The men in the alley. And then...darkness. And now wherever he was right now he guessed. After a few moments, Peter managed to crack his eyes open again, surprised a little by the room he was in, not that he'd expected much to be honest.

Peter himself was chained to a pillar, his arms cuffed around it uncomfortably while metal ropes twisted around him at least five times over. His entire body was stiff, leaving him to think he'd been stuck in this position for at least a few hours. What time was it? Had anyone noticed he was missing? Peter blinked emptily, very much doubting it. Nobody at Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys would be expecting him home until late, and it wasn't like Mr. Stark was going to be looking for him.

The teenager took a deep, rattled breath, pushing the regret to the back of his mind and observing the rest of his situation instead.

The yellow lights in the room were horrible bright, allowing for Peter's shadow to loom out in front of him in a stark contrast to the light concrete ground. He forced himself to turn away from it, instead trying to find a means of escape. There were no windows in the small room that he would peg as a larger storage room, though there wasn't really anything to store. There were a few plastic shelves that had wheels on the end, but, save for a couple of blankets and a pillow, there was nothing resting on them. The only other things in the room were a metal door, a stained bucket, a few stools, and a blinking camera.

Peter turned to glare at it directly, watching it warily as the light on it blinked red. Who was behind that camera? It had to be the vulture guy, right? He'd recognized one of the men that had come to grab him, and they had alien weapons, so. Yeah, Peter may have gotten in a little over his head.

"Hello?" he called, shouldering the ropes wrapped around him. They didn't give, just rubbing against the hoodie that still smelled of Mr. Stark. He tried desperately to block it out. "Hey! What the hell's going on!?"

There was, of course, no answer, so he slumped against the pillar, grimacing at the hunger gnawing at his stomach. He wished desperately that he knew what time it was. Then again, he guessed it didn't really matter. His grounding had already been extended, and what was a few more missed meals? It surely didn't feel like it really mattered anymore.

It was a few minutes before anyone came by. Peter was straining against the chains, struggling to get some kind of hold in his awkward position, when the sound of footsteps caught his attention. He paused in his efforts, stilling to stare at the door as it opened and a wrinkled man stepped through. It took him a moment, but he was quick to realize that it had been the man on the ferry.

This must be the vulture guy.

The door boomed to a slow shut behind the man, who grabbed one of the stools and sat atop it, regarding Peter easily. There was a minute of tense silence before anyone spoke.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, Peter," the man started. Peter scowled. Great. Of course the man knew his name. "But you're bad for business, and so is your little shadow right there, so you'll be staying with us for the time being."

Peter blinked, trying to hide his surprise as he glanced down at the shadow he'd been avoiding. The vulture guy knew Mr. Stark was his soulmate?

"What is this? A ransom? Because he won't pay."

The man huffed sarcastically, shaking his head. "You two seem close." Peter bristled at the mockery in the man's voice. "But, no, I'm not going to ransom you for money. You'll be a nice and easy distraction while we take what we want."

Peter stared at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I'm afraid you aren't cleared to know that," the man said, standing up. "The light will stay on while you're here, in case you give Stark any flashes. The only way out is through this door, which has a second electric door on it that will reactivate once I leave. If you stay nice for this first day, or if you somehow manage to do it yourself, you'll be let out of the chains and brought meals on the regular. Understand?"

"How long do you think you're going to keep me here?"

"Just a few days. You will miss your Homecoming, though, I'm afraid."

"How did you find me?" Peter demanded. The man gave him a threatening smile.

"All we had to do was follow your shadow."

And then he was out the door. Peter was left alone in the overly bright room. Just him, his shadow, and the clinking chains.

He knocked his head against the pillar, closing his eyes shut with a regretful sigh.

  ---

After a few hours of rest, Peter managed to wrestle out of his ropes. First he snapped the handcuffs holding him against the pillar, flinching as the metal cut into his skin, and then tearing through the last of the binds restraining the rest of him. As the man had promised, no one came for him after he'd freed himself from the ropes, leaving the boy to his own devices. So he'd gone on to try and figure a plan of escape. These men were planning something, scheming to trick Mr. Stark, and they were going to use him to do it. And Peter wasn't going to let them.

That had been two days ago.

With a tired sigh, the teenager knocked his head against the stone wall for the millionth time that day, staring up at the camera and wishing desperately there was at least something for him to do. He'd even take a coloring book at this point. With those dumb twisty Crayola pencils. Anything was better than just sitting here and wondering.

Wondering what was happening. Wondering how people were reacting to his disappearing. Wondering if Mr. Stark had heard, or if he'd cared. And, of course, pondering the 'What if?'

What if Peter hadn't gone after the vulture guy? What if he'd listened to Mr. Stark? What if he'd done better and been able to take the man down without messing up? Would he be a good soulmate then? One worthy of Mr. Stark?

There were no answers to his questions. Not one. There were speculations and dreams and nightmares that had shocked him awake the few times he'd been able to catch slivers of sleep in this place, but there were no concrete answers. Maybe there never would be.

"Forever."

Peter shook himself vehemently, turning away from the camera to stare at the door instead. At least the meal times here were consistent, more that with Mr. Fowler, though with the same boring peanut butter sandwiches for every meal. In all honestly, if the teenager had been given something to entertain himself with, or the lights were at least dimmed for when he needed to sleep, he'd consider this place better than the group home. Yes, he was aware of how horrible that was, but anything was better than the musty odor of liquor and the sharp tug of a hand, fingernails biting.

Teeming with unbearably restless energy, Peter pushed himself to his feet, walking around the small room in laps, trying once more to find anything to get out of here. A loose nail, a crowbar, something cool that an alien weapons dealer might have left in their storage room, but, like the first thousand times, there was nothing for the teenager to grab. There was the bucket for him to relieve himself in, the couple of empty storage shelves (he'd placed the left over blanket and pillow on the top of one, feeling much safer to be at least out of temporary reach should anyone come into the room to try and grab him), and the stools. There was, also, the camera, but that had made out to be very off limits since day one.

He'd crawled up the wall towards it and the light had immediately flashed red, a warning buzzer screeching through the storage closet. With a shiver up his spine, Peter had dropped from the wall, clutching at his ears desperately. The light had turned yellow once more and the room had been returned to that horrible, thick silence.

And it had been like that since.

And today it changed.

The hairs on his arms raised, forcing Peter to sit up from where he was laying against the wired shelf. He glanced at the camera warily but, a few seconds later, the door buzzed and then opened. There were three men. Vulture guy, shocky-gauntlet dude, and the other man that had been in the alley when Peter had been taken. They all had weapons.

Vulture guy was the calmest of the three, horrifyingly easygoing as he stopped in the middle of the room, looking at Peter lazily. The teenager eyed the gun strapped to his belt.

"Get down here, Pedro. You've got work to do."

Peter stared at the man. The man stared at Peter.

"What kind of work?" he asked hesitantly, keeping his expression painfully schooled, though he wasn't sure it'd worked.

"Just a bit of good ol' fashioned negotiation."

"I already told you he wouldn't pay a ransom."

"Money's not what we're looking for, kid," the man said. He gestured to the gun strapped to his hip. "Now we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. You choose."

"What are you? A cop?" Peter muttered, but he jumped down from the shelf anyway, keeping his head up in an attempt to avoid his shadow. The man smiled, clearly amused by his joke.

"I've got the cuffs to prove it," he joked, pulling the thick metal cuffs out. They weren't regular cuffs, like the ones that he'd snapped out of a few days ago, but instead thick ones that would coat all the way up to his wrists. They were held out, open, in front of him expectantly. "Putter' there, kid."

With a low exhale, Peter placed his hands in the cuffs, resisting a flinch when they clamped shut. The man just smiled on him, a condescending pat on his shoulder. He couldn't help the flinch.

"Great. Let's get going."

Peter followed the man out of the room he'd been trapped in, his hands stuck together in front of him and his head forced up away from the glare of his shadow. The teenager finally took in the building he'd been kept in for the past two days, eyes narrowing as he tried to remember every single detail, but it wasn't some sort of maze like he'd been expecting. It was just--a warehouse. An empty warehouse, a few loose pieces of furniture and knick-knacks scattered on the cement floors.

It wasn't very long before they stepped through one last hallway, ending in an open room. It was as dim as everything else had been, shadowed pillars holding up the ceiling. For some reason, his hairs raised and his spine shivered. He halted to a suspicious stop, staring at the vulture guy for a moment before turning to stare at the rest of the room. Something in here was wrong. Very, very, wrong.

The man with the shocker knocked against his shoulder, pushing Peter forward. With a hesitant shiver, the teenager followed after the man, examining every inch of the room he could see.

They stopped in the dead center of the room beside one the pillars. A pile of chains sat on the ground next to it. Peter stared at it for a moment, brows furrowing, before turning to look back up. His eyes caught onto a timer on the wall, sitting idle at thirty minutes but not yet counting down.

The clinking of chains caught Peter's attention, and he turned to see the shocker guy and the other men grabbing the metal and staring up at him expectantly. He glanced between them and the timer, his eyebrows raised. The vulture smiled.

"It'll all be explained later," he said. Then he shrugged. "Or maybe it won't. I don't really care either way. Now sit down."

Peter glanced at the pillar, the men with the surrounding chains, his cuffed hands, and, finally, at his shadow. His gaze rested there for a tired moment, at where he'd been refusing to look at for days. At the sharp cut of Mr. Stark's chin and the hair that was always spiked up in a constant swoop. He was grateful that shadows didn't have eyes, saving him from the man's disappointed stare.

But the shadow wouldn't save him from the men here, so Peter would have to. He'd have to at least try.

"Yep. I will definitely do that now," Peter said, moving over to the men.

He allowed for the shocker gauntlet guy to move just a little closer, and then he struck. With metal encased fists, the teenager lashed out, landing a harsh punch to the man's face and following it with a kick that launched him halfway across the room. There was panicked shouts as he whirled back around, ducking low as a bullet fired, lodging in the pillar behind him.

He rolled as he ducked, using the force of his weight to slam into the other man's legs, who consequently tumbled to the ground. Peter rolled fast enough to carry past the man as he fell, springing back up onto his feet clumsily. He ran, ducking behind a pillar as gunshots rang, the men picking themselves back up.

The teenager twisted, searching for an escape. There was a door to his right, about halfway across the room. A few pillars stood between him and his best shot at freedom, just enough for him to dive and grab some cover, but it would be risky. Peter glanced at his shadow.

He ran.

He only made it past two pillars when his senses spiked. He dropped into a crouch on instinct, flinching as the pillar beside was slashed, a slice of beating wind rushing over him. He squinted up to see the vulture's wingsuit, turning around at the wall and circling the room once before coming back to Peter. He moved to run, but the suit had already caught up with the gasping teen, blocking his path and knocking him to the ground.

Footsteps echoed lightly as Peter tried to scramble back to his feet, only managing to push himself onto his elbows until there was the click of a gun. He turned, glaring up at the vulture guy, a pistol in hand pointed barely a few feet from his head.

"Nice try, Pedro," the man said, pulling back a smile. He called, "Schultz!"

Shock gauntlet guy was back, one eye black and his gauntlet buzzing with power. It charged up with an electric whine, the man raised back his fist, and when it came down, Peter only knew two things. Pain and darkness.

  ---

Tony stared around the completely packed tower, only a few boxes left in his lab to be moved to the plane that would blend into the dark New York night in barely ten minutes. He sighed, tucking his hands in his pocket as he looked out the window over the city. The billionaire had never been known for his sentiment, but even he could say that this move held a lot of significance. And, not only that, but, out there in the dark city below, his little shadow remained.

He'd been reeling the past couple days from the incident at the ferry, about Peter's actions and his own. In the end, the kid was only a kid, one desperate to put some good in the world. He was smart and strong and everything Tony hadn't been, but then he thought of the people on that ferry. If one had died, and Peter had been the cause of it--well, it was easy to see the kid would have never recovered from that.

He needed time, and Tony needed time too. 'Forever' had been a little rash, but a week and a half didn't quite have the consequences the teenager needed to swallow. After returning from the dock, he'd placed the neatly folded suit into the nearest box and hadn't looked back. He assumed the suit was somewhere still in the empty lab, waiting to be unpacked and then eventually returned to the kid when Tony saw him on Friday.

He furrowed his brows, pulling out his phone. Maybe he should text Peter, or call him, and make sure he was okay. He hadn't really expected to hear from the kid in the past few days, but after seeing Peter's thin ribs and hearing that his foster father had taken his money, he was less than thrilled to leave him alone.

Glancing back at the boxes left, he moved to click on the kid's number. This wouldn't take too long, and they would be going in his car anyway. No plane required.

An echoed ringtone answered the stale night air before he could click call.

"What?" he muttered to himself, turning his phone off. He turned away from the window to stare at the leftover boxes. Hesitantly, he stepped over to them, opening the one where the ringing was loudest.

Peter's suit sat inside, twitching as it rang. He reached out his hand, grabbing the red fabric and pulling it out. It was folded crisply, the mask tucked away neatly between the cloth. He snagged it from beneath the fabric, surprised at the heaviness of it.

A badge, a card, and a ringing phone all tumbled out, clattering on the floor as the mask was upturned.

What the hell...?

He kneeled down beside the items, heart racing and picking up the still ringing phone displaying an unknown number. He snatched it up, answering the call immediately and pressing it up to his ear, picking up the other items left behind.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Hmm, I expected a cute kid like Parker's soulmate to be nicer." Tony froze, motioning for Friday to begin tracking the call. "Then again, I knew what I was walking into ever since you pulled him out of that lake last week. You two should really be more careful about where you hold your conversations, y'know."

"Get to the point," he snapped. Out of the lake. Vulture Guy. He pulled up a separate hologram and began to search for what he'd previously left to the FBI. Pictures and shaky videos of the large metal wings appeared in front of him.

"Y'know," the man dawdled, ignoring Tony's demand. "I didn't quite believe the kid when he said you wouldn't pay a ransom. I mean, a billionaire for a soulmate and, with no hesitation, he just said it. But really, I get it now. I do."

"You don't get anything."

"I don't? Well, that's a surprise. I usually get things, and this one isn't very hard to tell. Kid hasn't looked at his shadow in two days."

Two...

"What the hell have you done to him?" he whispered, voice cold. He whirled around towards the screen that had the phone's location, brows furrowing when it wasn't any closer to finding out the source of the call.

"I've insured that business will continue to boom, Tony," the man answered easily. Tony took a seething breath, reigning himself in. Ransom. He'd said something about a ransom.

"What do you want?"

"Did you finish packing yet?"

Tony glanced at the boxes. "Yes."

"Good. That plane of yours is scheduled to take off soon. Let's make sure it stays that way."

"And Peter?"

"You get to come and get him."

"And if the plane doesn't stay on schedule?"

"You won't get the location in time. No more shadow for you."

Tony glanced down at the mask clutched in his hand and then at the shadow on the ground. It was pale in the dim room, hair curly and clothed in a baggy sweatshirt.

"I need proof that you have him," he demanded. There was ding. Drawing the phone away from his ear, he glared down at the photo. Peter was slumped against a cement pillar, chains wrapped tightly and thickly around him and the pillar. He was gagged and clearly passed out, a purple bruise forming around his eye. He still wore Tony's red hoodie.

"Did you get your proof?"

Tony swallowed. "Yep. Loud and clear."

"Great. When your plane leaves, I'll send you the location. As of now, you have half an hour."

"Until what?"

"I guess you'll find out."

And then the call disconnected.

"Shit!" he yelled, grabbing the suit and balling it up. "Friday, location."

"I was unable to trace the call, sir."

He rubbed at his face. "How long until wings up?"

"Ten minutes."

"Keep an eye out for an anonymous message. Notify me immediately. And how long would it take to get out a suit and reassemble it?"

"For the current Mark, anywhere between ten and fifteen minutes."

"That's too long," he muttered. Everything was taking too long. "Get my car ready downstairs. I want it waiting out front for me at a moment's notice."

"Of course, sir."

Panicking only slightly, he grabbed the last two boxes, piling them in his arms and rushing them to the elevator. The ride was quick, but it could have been quicker. When the doors slid open, he dashed out to where workers were piling the last of the tower's belongings into the open plane, Happy overseeing them all.

"All right, wheels up in eight minutes. We just got to load Tony’s old Hulkbuster armor, prototype for Cap’s new shield, and the Meging... the Meg... the... Thor’s magic belt," his friend called, catching sight of Tony, he paused. "And these two boxes. Hey, boss, what's up? You look like you're about to be sick."

"I need the plane going as quickly as possible. And I really mean as fast. As. Possible."

"Tony, what--"

"Just get it going," Tony snapped, making a note to apologize to his friend later. There wasn't any time to explain. Happy stared at him, and then nodded.

"Okay. Five minutes, it'll be in the air."

"Good. Thanks, Hap."

Tony left the boxes, keeping the suit and Peter's belongings with him and dashing back to the elevator. It took him to the empty bottom floor as quickly as possible, where he practically tore out through the doors and to where his car was waiting for him. The gas was already running as he slipped into it, pulling out his phone and waiting.

"How long since the timer started, Fri?"

"Seven minutes."

"The plane?"

"Taking off now."

Tony rolled down the window, poking his head out and squinting up. There was a distortion of movement, and then there was a buzz. He turned back into the car, glaring down at his phone to see an address in Brooklyn.

He floored on the gas.

"How far away is this?"

"Approximately twenty-eight minutes."

"How long we got?"

"Twenty-two."

"Great. Let's be there in twenty. Quickest route. I don't care how many laws we have to break to get there, got it? And trace the message's location, send it to Rhodes when you find it."

"Of course, sir."

Tony didn't know how many red lights he forced the car through, how many people he cut off and sped around, cutting every corner he could possibly find. It didn't feel fast enough. But nothing ever could. The only thing that went fast enough was the rapid pounding of his skittery heart.

How could he have been so stupid to leave Peter alone like that? To meet him and then drop him off like the drop of the hat. And to not even bring him home or make sure he wasn't injured. Or to even just have a reasonable conversation. It was despicable of Tony. And now Peter might die because of it. His little shadow.

While driving, he ordered for Friday to find Peter's missing person's report, his heart beating rapidly as he tried to piece together when the kid had been taken. Where? How far out had Tony been? Had they just been waiting for him to leave?

As it turned out, there wasn't one. Tony chewed his lip, pushing it to the back of his mind for now and just continuing to floor the pedal. One step at a time. He just had to get there before whatever was going to happen happened.

Tony ended up arriving in eighteen. He barely even parked the car, just ripped down the joystick and leaped out, running without any kind of hesitation into the dark warehouse.

  ---

When Peter blinked awake, it was to a constant ticking and the loss of his shadow. He panicked, struggling in an attempt to see what had guarded over him for so long. He needed it now more than ever. The chains he was trapped in rattled and clinked with his weak movements, and he winced at the pain around his eye and the soreness in his jaw. After a moment, he realized that it was the tight gag cutting into his cheeks so hard he was sure that there were cuts around the area.

A little more searching revealed to the trapped teenager that his shadow was still there, if a little faint. It stumped out in front of him, hard to make out, but Peter was grateful nonetheless. He knocked his head against the pillar, staring at the shadow in an attempt to force down the way his hairs were still raised on end.

He forced himself to tune into the ticking that was still happening, furrowing his brows and straining his ears. There was a lot of ticking actually. One in the pillar across to him, and the one across from him, and the ones line across the room...

The pillars were filled with bombs.

His breath caught.

Breathing was hard through the tight gag, but he managed to shudder in a few deep breaths, his whole body moving with the impossible action. After what felt like forever, he was a little more coherent, a little more able to comprehend his situation. Peter glanced away from his shadow, instead staring up to where the timer had been earlier. It was counting down quickly, now leaving him with five and a half minutes. The vulture guy hadn't said what was going to happen when that timer ran out, but, given the ticking bombs in the pillars, he had an idea.

The teenager began to struggle, trying desperately to get a good enough grip to pull his cuffs apart, but the chains kept his arms firmly strapped against his side. He let out a frustrated grunt after a minute of fruitless wrestling with the clinking metal, letting his head drop and blinking tiredly. Think, Parker, think.

"PETER!!"

Peter perked back up at the sound of his name, his eyes widening as he recognized the frantic voice echoing through the halls. Mr. Stark. What was Mr. Stark doing here? Is this what the vulture guy had meant?

Peter tried to shout back but, of course, the gag muffled his ability to speak. All that was choked out was a long grunt that barely made it past the room. He tried a few more times, rustling his chains as loud as possible to catch the man's attention. It apparently worked, because footsteps approached.

Mr. Stark burst through the door, frantic and wild eyes landing on Peter with a short gasp, but he never stopped running, sliding to a stop on his knees in front of the boy.

"Peter. Oh, my God, Peter, I am so sorry," the man apologized, his voice a whisper. Hands reached out towards his face. Peter couldn't help the way he flinched away, his head knocking against the pillar painfully, leaving splintered cracks in the cement. Mr. Stark paused, mumbling a horrified apology and glancing at his watch anxiously. "Okay, here's the deal. We're under a pretty strict time limit, okay? I just gotta get you out of here. Can I...can I take your gag off? Please?"

Peter hesitated, glancing at the clock behind Mr. Stark's head. Three and a half minutes.

Mr. Stark followed his gaze, glancing over his shoulder to catch sight of the ticking timer, his expression darkening. He turned back to Peter.

"Like I said, time limit. So, can I?"

After a moment, Peter nodded, leaning his head forward to let him grasp at the fabric. His instincts screamed to not give the man purchase to his hair, but Peter knew better. Not that he could stop the flinch when Mr. Stark's fingers brushed against the back of his head.

Mr. Stark reached forward immediately, untying the knot and pulling the gag away in a gentle manner, letting Peter finally take a deep breath. He moved his jaw, trying to undo some of the tension trapped there and wincing at the pain that dug into it. The billionaire moved onto working the chains, his watch turning into a bright red Iron Man gauntlet that began to power through the metal.

It was silent a moment before, "When did they get you?"

Peter swallowed, leaning his head back and shrugging. "After the uh--after the ferry. Cornered me in an alley probably half an hour after."

"I'm sorry, kid," Mr. Stark apologized, but Peter just shrugged again, staring pointedly forward. He kept a careful eye on the clock. Two and a half minutes, and the chains weren't looking good. He narrowed his eyes, glancing down at the watch. It didn't have a direct power source, and he very much doubted it would be able to break through all of his chains in time. He swallowed.

"It's okay. My fault anyways."

"No. This isn't--"

"It is, Mr. Stark," Peter protested. Mr. Stark stared at him, but he needed this off of his chest. This horrible guilt that he was he'd never get the chance to get rid of. And now might be his last opportunity. "I was the one who went after the vulture guy. Not even with good intentions. I just... I don't know. You're--you're Tony Stark, and having me for a soulmate seemed less than thrilling to you. I just wanted to prove that I was worthy to be your shadow. And I didn't. And I'm sorry. And...and I get why you didn't want to talk to me again."

"Peter--"

"Just go, Mr. Stark."

"What? No! I will not leave you--"

"The clock, Mr. Stark." They both turned to look at it. "Less than a minute. You won't get me free in time."

"We don't even know what will happen! It could be a fluke for all we know," the man protested. Peter stared at him, unable to keep himself from trembling in fear, gesturing towards the nearest pillar with a nod of his head. His voice was a quaking whisper.

"These all have bombs in them. Every single one, except for the one I'm tied against. You won't make it if you stay here."

Mr. Stark stared at him, his gaze hard, still blazing through the chains. None had been completely broken yet, but they were beginning to turn orangey-red. There was a frightening resolution in his stare, and Peter did his best to return it despite how much he was blinking back horribly frustrated tears. He forced his gaze away, checking the timer once more. Twenty seconds.

"Please, Mr. Stark. You need to go."

"I'm not leaving you," the man said. The chains were getting redder, Peter could probably tear at them soon, but not soon enough. He continued straining anyway, grunting as the metal resisted against him. "We're going to have a much longer talk later, kid, but I don't want you to think for a second that I don't want you as my soulmate. You're a good kid, with a good heart. There is nothing to prove. Absolutely nothing."

Peter glanced at him from where he was straining, surprised at the wetness swimming in the man's eyes.

The chains snapped, falling around Peter in a metal heap. The timer beeped.

The thundering of booms crowded Peter, going off around the room in a sporadic circle. Mr. Stark's arms wrapped around him immediately, a protective body shielding him against what Peter had honestly expected to be a bigger explosion. Instead, they were small, knocking out the middle of the pillars so quickly that trying to follow them made his head spin. He figured out what was happening just a second too late.

Working against the instinct to curl himself into a protective huddle underneath his soulmate, safe from the crowding dust and explosions that shattered through the air so hard that he could feel the vibrations underneath the man's arms, the teenager broke free of his hold. The ceiling crumbled down as quickly as he moved, forcing Mr. Stark to the ground as far away as he could reach and piling himself in between.

No amount of bracing himself could have prepared Peter for the pain.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 7 // Ch 8