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azurevi · 4 years

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on land where we can touch the moon (1/?)

Ok, so this is a really random idea, but it’s basically The Little Mermaid with Azul. And I wish I could excuse myself by saying that I was drunk writing this, but really I was just rushing it because I’ve been sitting on it for far too long. Anyways, enjoy!

Pairing : Azul / genderneutral reader

Characters : Grim, Ace and Deuce

Warnings/Triggers : none

Word count : 3,371

PART2 PART 3

“Isn’t this great,” you made a show of strolling along the railing, the beer in your hand threatening to spill. “The salty sea air, the wind blowing in your face. Perfect day to be at sea!”

“Yes, well-” Jack paused mid-sentence to lean over the side. He sounded as though he was retching. “It is indeed a favourable weather, your royal highness- urk!”

“Now, what did I say about formalities, Jack?”

“You said, and I quote, ‘Call me by my first name, if only for today. It’s a direct order.’”

You went up to soothe his back. When he pulled his head up, his eyes were glossy and cheeks purple. “It’s inappropriate for you to see me in this state, your majesty,”

“So you’re defying my orders now? And on my birthday, no less?”

“That man is all work and no fun,” Ace commented bitterly. He and Deuce were on the opposite side of the ship, holding their respective mugs of beer.

“That’s what makes him the knight commander,” Deuce said.

“A knight commander who’s seasick, huh?”

“Shut up, both of you!“

You chortled blatantly, chest light and hair spraying in the wind.

"Fireball Attack!”

There was a sharp yell, and Grim’s fur was all up in your face before you knew it.

“Hey, hey! Someone’s in a good mood!” You cradled him in your arms. His fur was fluffy and sticking up in the air in all directions.

While you were entertaining your attention-starved familiar, your personal knights had managed to get into yet another fistfight. Jack, the poor commander, was cornered on the edge of the ship, his golden, distinguished pin somehow threatening to slip off in his fingers.

“If I drop my badge, I swear on my wage you’re getting extra morning training and night patrols for the next whole year-!”

He gagged slightly before turning sharply, elbowing Ace in the process. His arm jolted, and the badge escaped his firm pinch, glistening in the air. Time seemed to slow as it made its way downwards, all the while the knights’ mouths grew rounder and rounder.

It plummeted right into the sea, made an insignificant plop and continued sinking quietly, slowly, until the sea muted the screams on deck and the light dwindled.

“We should really stay away, Rory,”

“Quit being a chicken,”

Lovett was falling behind. Rory had insisted that they visit this deeper and lesser known part of the ocean due to a half-hearted dare. And Rory, headstrong that she was, would never back down from a challenge.

“Haven’t you heard? Deep where the light doesn’t reach lives the evil Sea Merchant! A force to be reckoned with! It’s-”

Lovett swivelled swiftly. He was pretty sure something had just swam past from behind.

“Oh, for the love of Poseidon, please don’t eat me for I’m just a standard merman!”

“Will you zip?” Rory was already a few feets ahead. Lovett continued to mumble prayers as he flapped his tail harder.

There was almost no light now, but they could still make out the outlines of rocks and corals. It was uncanny how there was nary a sign of life, not even a lanternfish.

“What’s- what’s the dare anyways?”

“To steal something from the evil Sea Merchant’s collection,”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Lovett gasped. He had yet to notice how they’d swam into a forest of seaweeds. Some clung to their tails as they swam by and tickled their sides.

Something strong and somewhat slimy wrapped around Lovett’s arm. Presuming that it was just another irritating weed, he swung his arm back and forth. It only seemed to grow tighter.

“Great seas, what-” he turned to inspect. “Oh- oh- ten-TENTACLE!”

Rory sprinted around at the scream. “Holy-” she murmured, speechless and shocked to the core.

Wrapped around Lovett’s elbow was no doubt a tentacle lined with suckers. For a while, it didn’t seem to be moving, but then Lovett was yanked away like lightning.

“Lovett!”

The first thought that came to his mind was that he was going to be eaten. That was until he was met with a frowning face. One under silver messy hair. Then his eyes traveled down the seemingly countless slithering tentacles that stretched out from the man, and he was trembling in fear again.

“Please-! Don’t eat me! I have the least nutritional diet!”

The man didn’t answer. Instead, he squinted at Lovett for an agonizingly long time before finally letting him loose. Lovett squirmed and backed away. The area where he had been held had become swollen red.

“Lovett?” Rory had just gotten into the scene. Lovett didn’t wait a second to break into a run, but Rory caught him by his elbow where it was still hurting.

“We gotta run, Rory-”

‘Huh. What, it’s just Ashengrotto? Have you forgotten about him already?“

Lovett whimpered when Rory advanced on the man. He narrowed his gaze behind a neat pair of glasses. Lovett half expected Rory to be squeezed to death on the spot.

"You’re lurking down here now? How lame. And I see that you still got those hideous fingers of yours,” Rory gestured at his tentacles. “You seriously don’t remember him, Lovett? You have shit memories. Does Azul Ashengrotto from college ring a bell?”

It took Lovett a long, long time to get it. “That’s right, you’re Azul! Man, how you’ve changed- wait, are you the Sea Merchant?”

There was nothing that could rival the bitterness in Azul’s voice. “Pleased to see you again, Lovett,”

“Is it easier to prey on fishes down here? Or are you just that insecure about yourself?” Rory paid no mind to their conversation.

“… It’s none of your business,”

“It actually is. You see, knowing that an ink-blasting octopus lives in the same water as I do is really unnerving-”

“Then make your leave.”

Rory’s smug look faltered.

“Why should I? You don’t even own this part of the ocean-”

“Oh? Who are these friends of yours, Azul?”

A singsong voice once again interrupted Rory. She turned on her spot, only to find herself face to face with a grinning face.

“Eek-!”

“Oh! If this isn’t Rory~ how kind of you to visit us!”

Lovett backed away quietly. He wasn’t going to stay for anymore of this horror. When two hands slammed onto his shoulders, he shrieked a key higher than any other that’s been sung by opera singers.

“Where do you think you’re going?” a far more stern and solid voice asked. It was one of those voices you hear in persuading commercials.

It was the Leech brothers, in their long, slender eel forms.

Lovett thought that was it. This was his doom. He was either going to get eaten alive or squeezed to his demise. He should never have agreed to come here. And now he was going to die. He didn’t even get to experience life-

“It’s fine, Jade, Floyd,” Azul said calmly. The hands on Lovett’s shoulders retreated, and Rory rushed towards him hastily and pulled him up and up until they were out of the seaweeds.

“I can’t believe you let them off that easily!” Floyd complained, pouting hard. “We could’ve had some fun with them first, and yet you decided to play good guy?”

Azul didn’t reply. The three of them travelled between rocks and reefs, and while Azul seemed to be in search of something, the twins were merely accompanying.

“I believe he has his reasons,” Jade said, pausing in anticipation. When Azul didn’t soothe his curiosity, he sighed and decided to drop the topic.

Azul rummaged through the swaying weeds and peeked into the slits of the rocks. Nothing seemed to have piqued his interest. Then they swam even further away from where they’d started and reached a sunken ship.

While almost the entirety of the hull had rotten away the structure of the ship still remained intact. Anemones and sponges had claimed the pieces of wood. Tiny shrimps traveled freely between poles and debrises.

Jade and Floyd followed tightly like bodyguards. They were at least mildly worried after the encounter with Rory and Lovett. They could still recall vividly how notorious Rory was and what a relief that they never had to meet again.

If anything, Azul seemed frustrated. His tentacles worked individually, shoving aside inconvenience hastily just like his hands. It was as though he’d lost something priced and valued.

“Let’s split up, alright? Treasure hunt’s no fun if we’re just following one another,” Floyd said as he rounded a corner and out of sight. Jade hesitantly stayed behind as well, leaving Azul to his own.

He’d been here so many times that he’d lost count. There was always something new and from the land somewhere between the ruins. But this time, it seemed to have become just another bland, boring place without any aesthetic value.

That was until something flickered in the corner of his eyes. It was so weak that it would’ve gone unnoticed by, say, Jade and Floyd, but Azul had always been delicate in treasure hunting. Nothing ever slipped his sight.

It looked like a badge. A golden brimmed badge with two crossed swords in the middle, and at the bottom carved two grand words - 'Knight Commander’.

“Oh, what’s that you’ve got there?”

“Ahh!"

Azul spoke up finally in a long time. The brothers had at some point started following him again.

"Looks like a badge,”

“Bet it sank just a few hours ago. It looks very intact,”

“Yeah,” Azul flipped it between his fingers, eyes tracing in fascination. “It’s not everyday you see something like this,”

His mood seemed to have lightened after this discovery. He was gratified. It’d been a while since he last found anything worthy enough to add to his collection of trinkets from ashore. It put a smile to his face just remembering his towering shelves of tiny valuables.

Azul owned a secret grotto that even the Leech brothers knew nothing of. He’d made sure that it was known only to him.

It was where he stored all the human objects he’d found undersea. Things like a trident but with four tips or a shallow, handled bowl. There were items as big as a golden pot and others as small as a hairclip. Everywhere he turned they were shimmering and singing about the unknown world outside the water, where mermaids had legs and walked instead of swimming, where they could dance instead of just swaying and flapping tails. Where they could go so many different places - forests and deserts, mountains and caves - many more than what the ocean held.

And they could reach the moon. The ageless, pensive moon that Azul could only wish to caress. But no matter how hard he stretched, it was only in his dreams where the moon would come down in all its glory, close enough to blind his eyes.

He needed to reach it. There was no other way. It was the single entity in the world that knew all the truths and lies, all the corruptions and praises. He had to see it, then he would get the answers - the truth he’d always hungered for.

Muffled rumbles snapped him out of his intensity. When he looked up from under the grotto, he’d thought he was hallucinating.

The usually azure (and rather bland, may he add) current was now painted with red- no, yellow- purple- it was changing with every muted clap. It might have as well been the end of the world with its bizarreness. However, there was something else stirring in Azul’s heart aside from confusion.

Curiosity. A haste force that was tingling in all his eight tentacles, as if there was no way to rid of the sensation except to swim towards the source.

It was wrong on so many levels. He’d been taught by teachers, friends and his parents that to go beyond the water was basically pleading to be killed. Humans are nothing but greedy, spineless, nasty fish-eaters who are incapable of emotions, that’s what everyone said.

Was that really the case, though? As Azul surveyed his collections, he found it harder by second to believe in the lore. How would they explain all these sparkling and antique cosmetics? How could a world that made so many wonderful things be bad?

And so he pushed aside all doubts that were chaining his limbs and flew towards the surface.

The moment he broke the fabric of water and chill air entered his ears, he was taken back by the sight before him.

A colossal wooden ship was sailing right above. Behind it, lights and fire burnt themselves in the sky then fell into the water dimly. There were singing and whooping aboard where he couldn’t see. The grandness of it all was so deafening that Azul failed to hear the voice of reason in his head as he neared the boat.

There was an opening at the side of the ship. Azul carefully stuck his head up so he wouldn’t be seen. At least not without squinting.

There were about five people dancing and hollering, some holding drinks in their hands while the others blowing into their snarfblats with reddened cheeks.

“Encore! Encore!” a red-haired guy yelled. Then there was an airy laugh in response. Azul turned sharply towards where it came from.

Azul was… awestruck, to say the least. You were grinning from eye to eye, which were diminished into slits. As you laughed on, Azul felt his chest lighten little by little. It was one of those laughs that pulled you closer and assured you that the world around was but a facade. He could listen to your laugh for the rest of his life and he’d never be distressed again.

“Alright, but can we first reveal the massive unknown that’s been standing here for the past hours? You know I can see it right?” you asked with confidence, and this confidence was just humble enough not to be arrogant.

“As you wish, mademoiselle,” another man with dark blue hair bowed with a flourish, then approached the object in question which was covered with a drape. He was at least tipsy with his wavering and unsteady steps.

“Presenting-!” he hollered before yanking the drape off. Surprisingly it was a golden statue made to resemble you.

You recoiled in mild distaste, but your smile remained. Azul pondered about how you still managed to radiate a cheerfulness despite your negative reaction.

It also occurred to him that it was made in gold. Out of all his collectibles there was rarely even a gold necklace. You must have a reputation for someone to make you such a big deal.

“Well, here’s your birthday present, milady,” the tipsy man was throwing names spontaneously now. The red-haired had to drag him away from the railing several times. You had all resumed singing and dancing. Azul was so captivated by your figure that he didn’t even notice the fireworks dying down.

You and a dark-skinned man were leaning right next him now. What looked like a cat but with flame shaped ears and a devil’s tail started sniffing in the vicinity. Azul was having a hard time staying out of its way and eavesdropping on your conversation.

“You sure you don’t want some?” you raised your mug to his face, which he declined respectfully.

“I’d prefer to stay sober,” he said. “You know, I don’t wish to spoil your birthday, but the king’s being more pressing than ever,”

“Yeah? About what?”

He stared at you for a moment before answering, as if he was trying to look pass your display.

“About marriage, of course,”

You didn’t answer. Though the corners of your lips were still raised in the aftermath of all the previous hypes, you were obviously unhappy to be there. Azul wished the man would shut up and bring your smile back instead.

“It’s not just the King, your highness. The whole kingdom wants to see you happily settled down with the right person,”

“Jack-” you took a deep, deep breath. “It’s not something that can come quicker just because you’re anxious. I have to find the right person-”

“I understand…” Jack mumbled under his breath. He didn’t look like he understood at all.

“- and they’re out there somewhere. I’m sure. I just haven’t found them yet,” you turned and dangled your arms over the railing. Azul quietly swam under your hands. He could probably touch your fingertips if he stretched hard enough.

“When I see them, it’s gonna hit me. Like bam! Like lightning-”

As if hearing your prayer the sky cracked open with a loud cry and grew darker still. The other men scattered out hurriedly, looking as though they’d never drunk anything.

“Hurricane coming in! Stand fast, secure the rigging!”

It all happened so fast. The wind was so strong that Azul could almost feel himself being blown away. The sky rumbled again and lightning started a rapid fire where it’d striked. He noticed a rock looming just ahead, but no one on board seemed to have noticed it.

He should probably go. It’s the safest under the sea. The sky couldn’t hurt a hair of his. But then he heard your screams of commands, and suddenly he was a brave knight willing to give up his life for the princette.

You weren’t on the ship when he neared. Instead, you were already secured on a piece of log, as well as the other men. He exhaled a relieved sigh, but it didn’t last as he heard cries from the ship.

“Ah! Get away you nasty fire- help!” cried a high-pitched voice.

“Oh no, Grim!” you gasped. Without a second thought, you let loose of the log and rushed towards the burning ship. The broken ship gave you better access as you hopped on, but the moment you’d secured your familiar, the ship roared and you tripped and fell.

“Look out!” Azul yelled out futilely. The ship ran straight into the rock and BOOM, everything was set ablaze. Azul dodged between dropping debrises mindlessly as he roamed around in search of you.

When nothing was found above, he dived back into the water and there you were - sinking into the water, growing darker and darker by second. He was next to you in a blink - thanks to his fast-moving tentacles.

Your group had already gone out of sight when he emerged again, but to his best luck there was a piece of land just near, and he raced there like he was going to lose his own life if he was too late. It was only when you were pulled up on the dryland that he could soothe his pounding heartbeat.

He was bewildered at the fact that he could breathe on land just as well as he did under water. Aside from the sand that had started sticking to his tentacles the moment they touched, nothing seemed to be out of place.

“Hey,” he’d never rescued a drowning human before. He didn’t even know what drowning was.

“Are you dead?” he slapped your cheek lightly. Your chest didn’t seem to be heaving, and your lips were as pale as snow.

“Hey-”

“Blergh!” Your head jerked up and suddenly you were coughing up water. Azul squeaked before scurrying over to hide behind a rock.

Your head was drooping back and forth as you held yourself up with wobbly arms. Then you started turning around and locked eyes with Azul’s as he peeked out tentatively.

Oh, it’s bad. This is very bad.

“Who-” you started to stand, and at the same time Azul began to reach for the water stealthily so you wouldn’t notice. He knew he’d be screwed if he was spotted.

“Y/N!” someone cried from far away, and you turned to look. The split second was just enough for him to crawl back into the water and out of sight.

The water washed the sand off him quickly, erasing all the evidence that he’d been out there violating one of the strictest rules under the sea, but despite all, he found himself already missing the crisp air above.

If any, he’d grown more fond of the unknown world that you lived in.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #sie writes

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thesnowinthemountains · 4 years

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Monsta X as the guy from school you have a crush on

(a/n: this is subpar, but also this is what happens when you go for the one guy in your entire major who has a girlfriend. enjoy!)

Shownu

He gives you the boy chin-nod gesture, sitting in his regular seat beside you. “How was your weekend?” You ask casually, pretending not to notice his lightly disheveled hair, the ratty old band shirt he’s wearing; you even pretend not to notice it’s a band you like. He shrugs, setting his things down. “I was staying with my girlfriend’s family at their cabin.” “Oh? That sounds fun,” you dial the enthusiasm all the way up. He sighs. “They were asking me when we’re going to get married, have kids, start a family,” he runs a hand through his hair, “I just- she’s a few years older, you know? I never thought it was a big deal, but there’s just no way I’m there yet, I mean I’m still in university, clearly.” “Right,” you smirk. You’ve been feigning interest in his girlfriend for months, waiting for a breakup. “So, what did you do?” “I excused myself, went for a run. In a blizzard.” He shakes his head. “It’s a wonder I didn’t get pneumonia.” You gape at him, trying not to picture him brooding, running in the cold, cheeks pink.

Wonho

Since the classes had been moved online, your communication with Wonho had gone from flirting in hallways to texting every few days, and it had your morale pretty low. You tried to text him during classes, and although it wasn’t the same, it was nice to see a smile brighten his features when his phone screen lit up. You had a cat that wandered behind you a lot during classes and liked to settle between the back of your chair and your shoulders. I like the cat, Wonho texted one morning. Thanks, but she’s a little evil She wants an attitude like yours, he answered quickly, still typing and when you looked at your computer screen, you found him grinning down, his phone out of frame

Minhyuk

It’s been a few weeks since you and your friend decided you didn’t like this guy in your class who was consistently rude, interrupted you every time you spoke, and always had a snarky comment to throw your way. To top it off, he was rarely ever in class, and when he did show, he was entirely disrespectful to the professors. One morning, Minhyuk comes in, takes his seat near the professor’s desk. Even though you sit a bit further off in the room, he joins your conversation. “Minhyuk, where’s your little neighbour?” The prof asks, meaning the rude guy. “He hasn’t come to class in a while, is he okay?” Minhyuk scoffs. “I don’t know, I don’t talk to him.” He laughs. “Oh, I just thought, because he sits next to you every class-” “Oh, I don’t associate with guys like him.” He glances your way, essentially demonstrating a quiet form of loyalty.

Kihyun

"I hate when the stories are bad,” you roll your eyes. “That’s sort of why we workshop them. To better them,” Kihyun smiles. You roll your eyes, leaning in. “Easier to do when the person can actually fucking write,” you whisper, not wanting the writer of the story you’re looking over to overhear. Kihyun stares at you, jaw hanging open in mock scandal. “You’re so mean.” He scolds, looking away. You shrug. “Please, I add life to this class,” you giggle. He laughs. “I think you add life anywhere you go.” You smile to yourself but move on, until Kihyun gets a shine in his eyes. “By the way, I started that book you told me to read. It’s really good.” “Oh!” You get excited, “have you met Boris yet?” You ask about your favorite character. “Not yet, but you’ll be the first to know when I do,” he leans in again, biting his lip, and you wonder when you started flirting with him openly.

Hyungwon

It’s your one evening class of the semester, it’s finally over for the week, so you gather your things and make your way to the metro station. “Hey, wait up,” Hyungwon calls, hurrying to your side. “I’ll walk you to the station.” “You really don’t have to,” you chuckle. You pause to wait for the elevator down to the lobby. “Well, maybe I want to, how about that?” You pull your car keys out of your bag with a jingle. “Do you need that many keychains?” He laughs. You hold out your set of keys for him and he takes it, looking over every little thing, souvenirs, knick-knacks and all. “This is cute,” he holds out a fuzzy little bear, the size of the tip of your pinky finger. The elevator doors open and you step in with a dozen other people from your class. “You want it?” “Oh, no it’s yours-” “I have more than enough, obviously.” He stares at you for a second, but pulls the bear out of your keychain. He reaches into his pocket to fish out a single key. “You don’t have a keychain?” You ask. “I do now,” he grins. You blush and look away to find a classmate watching the both of you with a raised eyebrow.

Jooheon

You sit with some school friends around a table at a bar. You’re all shouting over each other in the tradition of sharing stories and getting to know each other at the beginning of the semester. Jooheon gives you special attention, something you’ve been getting used to over the past couple weeks of classes. Out of nowhere, a strange voice booms over all the others: “Jooheon, man, holy shit!” A guy a few years older than the rest of you leans over you, grabbing Jooheon’s shoulder from across the table and shaking it. “Hey, how’s your sister?” “She’s good, man, she’s good,” he flashes his dimples, clearly mildly uncomfortable. “That’s good. Man, you grew up, last time I saw you, you were, what, fifteen?” The guy asks, still leaning between you and your other friend. “Last I heard, you got yourself a girlfriend, that right?” He asks. Jooheon bites his lip, giving you a quick, guilty glance. “Uh, yeah. Yeah.” They chat like this for a minute before the guy disappears again. “Sister’s ex-boyfriend,” he explains, smiling shyly and seemingly only at you. You nod and everyone returns to their evening. An hour or so later, the guy reappears. “Jooheon, I’m headed out, take care of yourself, man. Tell your sister I say hi.” “Sure, sure,” he laughs.

Changkyun

You wait for your friends at the bar, spinning lightly on your bench, chatting with the bartender. It’s a quiet evening, early yet. “Hey, can we get some sangria?” Changkyun asks the bartender as he slides into the seat beside yours. “You’re buying me drinks now?” You smirk, looking up from what was a vodka-soda but is now just an empty glass. “Maybe,” he leans conspiratorially into you, “don’t tell anyone.” He whispers. “I don’t know about anyone, but I’ll make sure not to tell your girlfriend,” you challenge. “Right,” he leans back quickly. “Yeah, especially don’t tell her.” Homewrecker, your mind shouts. Your mind can go to hell for tonight.

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deathlikesdeep-dish · 4 years

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Heat (Zoro x Reader)

Hiiii!

I’m new on the One Piece fanfic scene but I had a ton of fun writing this first little story for the One Piece of Summer Writing Challenge! (also please forgive me if there’s multiple submissions i’m returning to tumblr after like an 8 year hiatus lol) (also also i’m sorry i’m verbose i hope this isn’t too long)

Warnings: some language

Word Count: 3628

Word Prompt: Heat

You can hardly believe that it’d been two whole years since the crew had been together. Two years. Holy shit. You feel a lump in your throat as you approach Shakky’s place. You have no idea who, if anyone, had already arrived. Your heart races excitedly at the thought and a small smile creeps over your features. You make yourself sit on a nearby bench and breathe before you hike the last flight of stairs to the bar. It’s a hot day, impossibly hot and you sit and take a sip of water from your hip flask. The cool liquid pours down your throat and you sigh happily as you wonder what the very near future would hold.

Would it be Franky? You imagine the blue-haired madman, and laugh. Maybe he’d found another way to fuel his cyborg frame other than cola. You laugh again.

Who am I kidding? You think to yourself. The reason he runs on cola is because he wants to run on cola.

Or maybe it would be Usopp or Chopper? The last time you saw Chopper, it had been so frightening. He was vast and out of control from using those rumble balls. A shudder runs up your spine at the thought, but you push the thought away shaking your head. Your h/c hair ruffles at the motion, and you push a strand out of your face as you stare at the ground beneath your boots. Usopp, you are sure, will be one of the early ones, not wanting to be one-upped. You roll your eyes, your mind’s ear imagining him shouting, “Well, of course I’m here first! I’m the great captain Usopp!”

You already know what Brook--you mean “Soul King” had been up to. You laugh. You had to admit that his stuff was pretty catchy, and you wonder if he’d even want to come back to the pirate life after all that fame and fortune. It had been nice over the last two years to follow him in the papers whenever you could; a small link to your old life had been comforting and familiar.

Nami and Robin were almost certainly already here--Nami, probably off conning some shop owner into giving their store away half-price, and Robin wandering around looking at architecture, reading a book, or saying weirdly cryptic lines to passersby. You sigh fondly, reminiscing about the times the three ladies of the Strawhats spent together. Not having had many female friends to speak of before the Strawhats, it had been nice to have some badass women to bond with over the months before your separation. In your two years alone, you’d missed the companionship.

Maybe Sanji is at Shakky’s already, cooking up some delicious concoction for you to devour. Your stomach grumbles on cue, and your mouth waters thinking about it. If Luffy was already here, then any food would be gone twice over. Of all the changes that are sure to have occurred, your captain’s appetite is the least likely to change. You can only imagine what power he has achieved in the last two years. Your stomach sinks a bit thinking about when you learned of Ace’s death in the Paramount War. The pain Luffy must have endured. Alone. But, he was not one to dwell, and wouldn’t want you to either.

So you don’t. You’re strong--much stronger than you were the last time the crew saw you. You’re not the same girl that you were two years ago. No, not even close. You’re taller, with broader shoulders and hips. While you were once slender due to malnutrition, you are now toned and muscled after two years of hard training. You felt vitality that you once never thought you’d feel coursing through your muscles. Your top, frayed at the hem, falls to just above your naval and drapes over one shoulder, leaving the other uncovered. Your s/c flesh is exposed to the waistband of your khaki shorts. The leather of your boots is soft and worn, the same pair you’d been wearing when you were launched away from your crew by Kuma. The holster dangling from your waist carried some of your throwing knives, which you twiddle absently at your side in nervousness. You had become adept at hand to hand combat since the crew saw you last. You are nimble, fast and lethal. You smirk and let the confidence roll over your body. You can’t wait to see how skilled everyone else had become.

You flex and stretch, standing up from the bench and begin your ascent up the stairs. They groan under your weight and you shift the bag on your shoulder, securing it more tightly against your body. You feel your heart beginning to race again at the thought of the final crew member. You can only imagine how strong he’d become.

Zoro.

You think of his green hair, and his white shirt, the top buttons always haphazardly undone. His slim black pants and boots, the sound of his earrings jangling in the sea breeze. You see his tight, intense gaze and that smirk that always weakened your knees. The knot in your stomach tangles more at the thought as you crest the top of the stairs. You recall the days that you sat in the Crow’s Nest together as he worked out. He never paid you much attention, but simply tolerating your presence in his sacred space made you feel important.

You feel the heat rise to your face and you can’t tell if it’s because of the sweltering sun of the Archipelago or the indecent thoughts that have begun to flood your mind. You take a deep breath as you nearly reach the doorway of Shakky’s place, when you stop in your tracks at the silhouette in the doorway. The sun is bright, so you can’t make out who it is right away, but as the figure takes a step, there’s no mistaking that green head of hair.

“Well,” You hear Shakky’s voice from inside the bar.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d be the first,” You hear Rayleigh’s voice chime in.

The greenette stays silent for a moment and then replies, “Oh yeah? Nobody else has shown up.” He pauses. “Well damn, guess they got lost.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice. It’s unmistakable.

Before you can stop yourself, you call out to him. “Zoro!” You immediately flush, but you know this time it’s not from the heat.

You see Zoro stiffen at your voice, but he quickly turns around and meets your gaze with his own.

Christ…

You immediately notice that your eyes only meet one of his, a scar running from forehead to cheekbone on the left side of his face, his eye tightly shut. It makes him look even more ruggedly attractive, if at all possible, and you allow yourself to stare for a moment. His jaw, still angular and chiseled, is formed into a lazy half-smirk. Your e/c eyes trail down from his jaw to his throat and his collarbone, a body part you became intimately familiar with when you’d spent long moments staring at it over the top of his unbuttoned shirt, wondering what it would be like to nuzzle your face into its contours.

A part you are not used to seeing so casually, was the rest of his broad chest, which is exposed under the deep green coat he was wearing, the trademark Mihawk scar that ran from shoulder to hip still proudly displayed. You are glad to see that his haramaki remained unchanged over the last two years along with the three swords he carries at his side. He shifts his weight to his left side and leans his forearm on the hilt of his swords.

“Y/n!” He replies with a broad grin of recognition. He jogs toward you, and you find yourself moving towards him too.

Zoro is stunned to see you. In all honesty, he is stunned to know that he’s the first to arrive in the first place. Although, he did leave several weeks prior. Just in case.

You are...so different. His eyes move across your body, and he coughs, a slight flush spreading across his cheeks. He grits his teeth frustratedly.

Shit...get it together. He thinks to himself.

“I can’t believe we’re the first ones here!” You say, before pausing. “Actually...how the hell are you the first one here??”

You laugh and he manages to chuckle too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He jokes.

“Shakky and Raleigh inside?” You ask, jabbing your thumb towards the open door to the bar.

Zoro nods, rubbing a calloused hand at the nape of his neck. “Yep, they’re in there. Waiting like the old gossips they are.” He laughs quietly, shaking his head.

You can’t help but watch his arm move behind his head. His worn bandana is tied around his bicep over the top of his coat, and you can’t help but imagine how his tanned skin stretches over the muscle there. You realize, too late, that you had been silent for a beat too long.

“Y/n? You good?” He asks, raising a brow.

Your attention snaps back like a rubber band and you laugh nervously. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry. Just can’t believe how long it’s been.” You say lamely.

You walk into the bar, Zoro trailing behind you and you greet Shakky and Rayleigh with a wide grin. Shakky compliments your new look, making you spin around as if to show off your outfit. You can’t help but feel confident and a surge of pride wells within you. She pours you a drink, having already poured one for Zoro, and invites you to sit down at a far booth. You sit next to Rayleigh, playfully bumping him and he wraps an arm around your shoulder. He gives you an affectionate squeeze as he tells you how pleased he is to see you guys again. Zoro takes a seat at the far corner of a booth. He props his feet up and takes a long drag of sake straight from the bottle. He’d already finished the drink that was poured, naturally, and stopped Shakky before she could pour him another. He asked for the bottle, shrugging and said that we should just “cut out the middleman.”

You regale the three others in your tales of the last two years. You speak about your Master, your training, the island you’d resided on, everything. Shakky gives updates too, about some of the rumors that had been floating around in the Strawhats’ absence, particularly about Luffy and Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. Shakky, never one to be subtle, asks Zoro pointblank about what he’d been up to.

“Eh, not too much excitement,” He says vaguely. “The usual. Swords, drinking, naps.” Shakky rolls her eyes, unsatisfied, but you just laugh, knowing that he was not one to talk too much about himself.

After a long while, the four of you notice that the sun has begun to set. You are beginning to feel the drinks you’d consumed, your laughter a bit louder, your tongue a bit looser, your hair a bit wilder. The bar is illuminated in deep orange and red hues and you glance over at Zoro. Half of his face is cast in shadow, while the other half colored the same tint as the room. It looks almost as if he is on fire and you are mesmerized by him. He’s staring at you intently. You see beads of sweat along his hairline, and you notice that he has removed his outer coat.

“Damn Shakky,” He breathes, not breaking eye contact with you. “I don’t remember it being this hot two years ago.”

Shakky laughs. “Well, we’re going through a bit of a heatwave right now. It’s unusual for this time of year, but occasionally the weather currents bring a front in. It’s supposed to be like this for the next few days.”

His knees are propped up and he rests his forearms on top of them as he breaks your gaze and looks out the window. HIs profile is immaculate, and your eyes trace each feature--his straight nose, his angled jaw, and his full lips. Your lips subconsciously part, and it isn’t until you feel your tongue on them that you notice how you’re staring. Shakky, however, has noticed how the two of you have been trading stares at each other the entire evening. She smirks and stands with a yawn.

“Well Rayleigh,” She starts. “It seems likes it’s about time to close up shop for the evening. You good?”

Rayleigh looks confused at first, however, when Shakky gestures quickly to you and Roronoa, Rayleigh nods knowingly. He looks down at his nearly full drink and smiles. He tips his head back and swigs down the rest, placing the empty glass resolutely on the hard wood. “You know what, Shakky? You’re absolutely right. These old bones can’t drink like they used to. I’m headed down to my place at the docks. It’s cooler there anyway.” He stands up and bids the room farewell. The doorbell jingles behind him as he exits the bar.

You get the feeling that they’d been watching you and Zoro, and you feel embarrassed. But you don’t want to complain. You just hope that Zoro wouldn’t be ready to turn in yet either.

Shakky approaches Zoro and gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Night, Roronoa. If you get lonely, my room is always open.” She winks at him, entertained by how he squirms at the unexpected contact.

“Uh, yeah, sure…” He mutters, flustered. Shakky laughs.

“Shit Roronoa, just relax. I’m only kidding.” She walks over to a door behind the bar, presumably that led to her sleeping quarters, and opens it. “Or am I?” She grins slyly.

This time, Zoro knows better. The greenette shakes his head with a chuckle. “Goodnight, Shakky.”

She, too, disappears. The door closes behind her with a soft click, and the two of you are left alone. The sun has finally set beneath the mangroves and the sound of crickets fills the room. Despite the sun having set, the room is humid and very warm.

You reach a slender hand up and wipe beads of condensation off the back of your neck with a nervous sigh. “You’re right, Zoro,” You say after a moment. “It is absolutely stifling in here.”

He hums in agreement and holds up the bottle of sake questioningly. You nod and he tosses the closed bottle to you. However, his toss is a little short and to the left. But you’re fast and you catch it without a problem, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Aim much?” You joke as you pour yourself another drink before tossing it back to him.

He catches it easily and smirks. “Well, just checking to see if all that training you were going on about actually paid off.” He takes a swig. “Seems like it did.”

You were unbelievable. Zoro marvels at your agility. He had been enthralled as you told your story of the last two years. He watched the way your eyes lit up in excitement at certain parts or when your tone shifted to something more sinister. This was the y/n he’d always known--vibrant, curious and powerful. Zoro has always admired your tenacity. It was something of himself that he saw in you. He admired your intelligence as well, and your quick wit. It had always been a little intimidating, but now you were a force. It overwhelmed the swordsman. And thrilled him in the same way a new enemy excited him, got his adrenaline pumping and his heart racing.

He watches as you take a sip of your drink. His gaze follows the long line of your neck down to your collarbone, which he finds himself lingering on for longer than what was appropriate between nakama. You had always been objectively attractive, but Zoro never really paid attention to things like that. But now, you made that impossible to ignore. He is very attracted to you, entranced by your confident aura that pours off of you like cool sake.

The alcohol warms your blood and before you know what you’re doing, you prop your elbow on the table and say, “Seems like your training paid off too. I mean, look at you. All extra-muscley and shit.”

Zoro’s eyes widen slightly before he laughs out loud. “Thank you? I think.”

The liquid courage you’ve consumed does little for your filter (or your shame) so you continue. “I remember when I used to hang out in the Crow’s nest while you worked out. You were strong then, obviously. But it’s different now. You seem...invincible.” You breathe.

Zoro takes a moment to consider. “Invincible, huh?” He chuckles. “Hardly.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, but don’t reply.

Zoro stands up, his coat remaining in his seat. Your eyes follow the contour of his chest and he notices you watching him. He loves knowing that you look at him the same way that he looks at you.

“Come on,” He says after a moment, holding out his free hand, the other still holding the bottle of sake.

You take it without thinking. “Where are we going?” His hand is rough and cool to the touch, despite the heat in the room. He’s never held your hand before now. His good eye lands on you with a smirk that turns the knot low in your stomach.

“Up,” He replies in a whisper.

You nod wordlessly and stand up, trailing behind him as he walks towards the back door of the bar. When you exit, you sigh happily when a cool breeze flows along your damp skin. He echoes the sentiment with a contented hum, and continues towards the side of the building where he finds a ladder.

“Ladies first,” He grins, gesturing for you to climb the ladder up to the roof of the bar.

You raise an eyebrow, but comply nonetheless. As you climb, you make sure to move your hips more exaggeratedly, knowing the view you were providing him.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, of course, and admires your ass as you climb the ladder. You really are something. He wants to do more than just hold your hand. He wants to trail his hands along your curves, feel your strong body against the planes of his chest. He wants to know what your lips taste like, what your h/c hair feels like entangled in his fingers. But he knows that he needs to take it slow for both of your sake. It’s been two years. A lot has changed, and you are still his nakama first and foremost. There’s nothing that he would sacrifice to keep that.

The ladder is taller than you think it is by looking at it and when you arrive at the top of the bar, you are surprised to find an expansive platform.

“Wow,” You look open-mouthed. “How’d you know this was up here?” You look to Zoro who hops up onto the platform.

He shrugs. “I didn’t. I just saw the ladder earlier and figured it would be worth exploring.”

He walks up behind you in all of his shirtless beauty and sits, his legs apart as he leans back on his forearms. You’re still standing, looking up at the vast mangroves all around you, the stars peeking through the tree-tops. He lets you admire the scenery because it gives him a few moments to admire you. He clears his throat to get your attention and pulls you down to him.

With a light gasp, you find yourself sitting between his legs, your back against his chest and his arms wrapped around you. You are blushing furiously now. He hums contentedly, moving to nuzzle your hair and inhale your clean scent.

“What are you doing?” You manage to croak out.

“Enjoying the company,” He murmurs into the side of your neck.

You feel his heart beating swiftly against your back as you lean into him with a deep sigh. Your brain wants to overcomplicate this.

What does this mean? What does he want? Does he feel the same way about me that I feel about him? Does he...you gulp. Does he...want me, the way that I want him?

He feels you stiffen. “Y/n, hey,” He says. “It’s okay. This doesn’t have to mean anything that we don’t want it to mean.”

It seems like mind-reading is on the roster of new super powers he’s acquired. You grumble internally.

He laughs, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before he moves away. You whimper softly at the loss of contact, and turn to face him with a confused look. Though he did shift backwards, he didn’t move all that far away from you, so you’re surprised that you’re nearly face to face when you turn around.

He gently touches his thumb to your parted lips. “We’ve got time, y/n. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. So let’s just take the time and figure it out.” He smiles.

You feel your heart swell in your chest as you meet his intense stare. “Y-yeah, o-okay.” You stutter, still not quite believing that Roronoa Zoro has anything he wants to figure out with you. Your reverie is interrupted by Zoro’s gentle kiss. It’s a kiss that foreshadows what else could come of it, one that’s slow and burning and brimming with possibilities. He pulls away with a shudder.

“We’ve got time.” He says again, seeming to convince himself with the second iteration. “Besides,” He pulls back fully this time, taking in your lovely face before he smirks. “It’s too damn hot to be this close right now anyway.”

#doctorgerth #one piece of summer #summerwritingchallenge #roronoazoro #one piece #zoro x reader #zoroxreader #onepiece #laws-yellow-submarine

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doctorgerth · 4 years

Text

One Piece of Summer (Heat ZoroxReader)

(I apologize if I did this wrong! First time submitting to things lol)

Hiiii!

Warnings: some language

Word Count: 3628

Word Prompt: Heat

Would it be Franky? You imagine the blue-haired madman, and laugh. Maybe he’d found another way to fuel his cyborg frame other than cola. You laugh again.

Who am I kidding? You think to yourself. The reason he runs on cola is because he wants to run on cola.

You already know what Brook–you mean “Soul King” had been up to. You laugh. You had to admit that his stuff was pretty catchy, and you wonder if he’d even want to come back to the pirate life after all that fame and fortune. It had been nice over the last two years to follow him in the papers whenever you could; a small link to your old life had been comforting and familiar.

Nami and Robin were almost certainly already here–Nami, probably off conning some shop owner into giving their store away half-price, and Robin wandering around looking at architecture, reading a book, or saying weirdly cryptic lines to passersby. You sigh fondly, reminiscing about the times the three ladies of the Strawhats spent together. Not having had many female friends to speak of before the Strawhats, it had been nice to have some badass women to bond with over the months before your separation. In your two years alone, you’d missed the companionship.

So you don’t. You’re strong–much stronger than you were the last time the crew saw you. You’re not the same girl that you were two years ago. No, not even close. You’re taller, with broader shoulders and hips. While you were once slender due to malnutrition, you are now toned and muscled after two years of hard training. You felt vitality that you once never thought you’d feel coursing through your muscles. Your top, frayed at the hem, falls to just above your naval and drapes over one shoulder, leaving the other uncovered. Your s/c flesh is exposed to the waistband of your khaki shorts. The leather of your boots is soft and worn, the same pair you’d been wearing when you were launched away from your crew by Kuma. The holster dangling from your waist carried some of your throwing knives, which you twiddle absently at your side in nervousness. You had become adept at hand to hand combat since the crew saw you last. You are nimble, fast and lethal. You smirk and let the confidence roll over your body. You can’t wait to see how skilled everyone else had become.

Zoro.

“Well,” You hear Shakky’s voice from inside the bar.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d be the first,” You hear Rayleigh’s voice chime in.

The greenette stays silent for a moment and then replies, “Oh yeah? Nobody else has shown up.” He pauses. “Well damn, guess they got lost.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice. It’s unmistakable.

Before you can stop yourself, you call out to him. “Zoro!” You immediately flush, but you know this time it’s not from the heat.

You see Zoro stiffen at your voice, but he quickly turns around and meets your gaze with his own.

Christ…

“Y/n!” He replies with a broad grin of recognition. He jogs toward you, and you find yourself moving towards him too.

Zoro is stunned to see you. In all honesty, he is stunned to know that he’s the first to arrive in the first place. Although, he did leave several weeks prior. Just in case.

You are…so different. His eyes move across your body, and he coughs, a slight flush spreading across his cheeks. He grits his teeth frustratedly.

Shit…get it together. He thinks to himself.

“I can’t believe we’re the first ones here!” You say, before pausing. “Actually…how the hell are you the first one here??”

You laugh and he manages to chuckle too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He jokes.

“Shakky and Raleigh inside?” You ask, jabbing your thumb towards the open door to the bar.

Zoro nods, rubbing a calloused hand at the nape of his neck. “Yep, they’re in there. Waiting like the old gossips they are.” He laughs quietly, shaking his head.

“Y/n? You good?” He asks, raising a brow.

Your attention snaps back like a rubber band and you laugh nervously. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry. Just can’t believe how long it’s been.” You say lamely.

“Damn Shakky,” He breathes, not breaking eye contact with you. “I don’t remember it being this hot two years ago.”

His knees are propped up and he rests his forearms on top of them as he breaks your gaze and looks out the window. HIs profile is immaculate, and your eyes trace each feature–his straight nose, his angled jaw, and his full lips. Your lips subconsciously part, and it isn’t until you feel your tongue on them that you notice how you’re staring. Shakky, however, has noticed how the two of you have been trading stares at each other the entire evening. She smirks and stands with a yawn.

“Well Rayleigh,” She starts. “It seems likes it’s about time to close up shop for the evening. You good?”

You get the feeling that they’d been watching you and Zoro, and you feel embarrassed. But you don’t want to complain. You just hope that Zoro wouldn’t be ready to turn in yet either.

“Uh, yeah, sure…” He mutters, flustered. Shakky laughs.

“Shit Roronoa, just relax. I’m only kidding.” She walks over to a door behind the bar, presumably that led to her sleeping quarters, and opens it. “Or am I?” She grins slyly.

This time, Zoro knows better. The greenette shakes his head with a chuckle. “Goodnight, Shakky.”

You reach a slender hand up and wipe beads of condensation off the back of your neck with a nervous sigh. “You’re right, Zoro,” You say after a moment. “It is absolutely stifling in here.”

“Aim much?” You joke as you pour yourself another drink before tossing it back to him.

He catches it easily and smirks. “Well, just checking to see if all that training you were going on about actually paid off.” He takes a swig. “Seems like it did.”

You were unbelievable. Zoro marvels at your agility. He had been enthralled as you told your story of the last two years. He watched the way your eyes lit up in excitement at certain parts or when your tone shifted to something more sinister. This was the y/n he’d always known–vibrant, curious and powerful. Zoro has always admired your tenacity. It was something of himself that he saw in you. He admired your intelligence as well, and your quick wit. It had always been a little intimidating, but now you were a force. It overwhelmed the swordsman. And thrilled him in the same way a new enemy excited him, got his adrenaline pumping and his heart racing.

Zoro’s eyes widen slightly before he laughs out loud. “Thank you? I think.”

Zoro takes a moment to consider. “Invincible, huh?” He chuckles. “Hardly.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, but don’t reply.

Zoro stands up, his coat remaining in his seat. Your eyes follow the contour of his chest and he notices you watching him. He loves knowing that you look at him the same way that he looks at you.

“Come on,” He says after a moment, holding out his free hand, the other still holding the bottle of sake.

“Up,” He replies in a whisper.

“Ladies first,” He grins, gesturing for you to climb the ladder up to the roof of the bar.

You raise an eyebrow, but comply nonetheless. As you climb, you make sure to move your hips more exaggeratedly, knowing the view you were providing him.

The ladder is taller than you think it is by looking at it and when you arrive at the top of the bar, you are surprised to find an expansive platform.

“Wow,” You look open-mouthed. “How’d you know this was up here?” You look to Zoro who hops up onto the platform.

He shrugs. “I didn’t. I just saw the ladder earlier and figured it would be worth exploring.”

“What are you doing?” You manage to croak out.

“Enjoying the company,” He murmurs into the side of your neck.

You feel his heart beating swiftly against your back as you lean into him with a deep sigh. Your brain wants to overcomplicate this.

What does this mean? What does he want? Does he feel the same way about me that I feel about him? Does he…you gulp. Does he…want me, the way that I want him?

He feels you stiffen. “Y/n, hey,” He says. “It’s okay. This doesn’t have to mean anything that we don’t want it to mean.”

It seems like mind-reading is on the roster of new super powers he’s acquired. You grumble internally.

He gently touches his thumb to your parted lips. “We’ve got time, y/n. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. So let’s just take the time and figure it out.” He smiles.

@laws-yellow-submarine

WOW WOW WOW this is absolutely amazing, my darling!!!! I was totally enthralled the entire time and was really hoping it wouldn’t end any time soon! And you painted the scenes so beautifully, it felt like I was actually in the story!! All the characters are so well written and gah I didn’t think it was possible to fall more in love with Zoro but damnnn this story had me swooning for the swordsman 🥰

I really really enjoyed this and I’m honestly so glad you took part in this little challenge! Could I add this wonderful story to the masterlist? 💕

#one piece of summer #summer writing challenge #heat #roronoa zoro #zoro #zoro x reader #female reader #submission #deathlikesdeep-dish

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chelsfic · 4 years

Text

Unseemly Desire, or Nandor's Season of Self-Discovery - Nandor x Guillermo Fanfic

Sequel to I Fell into Fantasy | WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: In which Nandor tries to convince everyone, including himself, that he does not have any unseemly feelings for his familiar.

A/N: I couldn't decide on a serious title or a goof title, so I went with both. Thanks so much to Spiff from the Nandermo server for helping me workshop this idea. After I wrote "I Fell into Fantasy" I just kept thinking about how Nandor would spin into denial and the angst that would ensue. Then I woke up this morning with the idea of an axe throwing competition?? And now we're here?

Oh, yeah....this is a multi-chapter fic *flops around the floor helplessly*

Warnings/Tags: Angst, mutual pining, Eventual smut, Blood drinking, Toxic Masculinity in the Ottoman Empire, Repressing feelings, Axe throwing...the usual

---

Nandor wakes to the sound of his familiar quietly shuffling about the crypt, no doubt lighting the dozens of candles that line the room. The vampire shifts inside his coffin, frowning at the sticky feel of dried seed on the inside of his trousers. He’d gone to bed that morning with a powerful desire still coursing through his veins along with Guillermo’s sweet, virgin blood. The mere memory of last night’s feeding is enough to stir him once more and he growls, driving the heel of his palm against his crotch to stifle his reaction.

“Master? Are you alright?” Guillermo’s voice is sweet and tentative.

“I’m fine! Why would you ask such a thing?” he snaps irritably, then in a softer voice, “Is it safe to open my coffin now, Guillermo?”

In answer Guillermo cracks the lid, easily lifting the solid weight after years of practice. His master sits up quickly, tugging at the bottom of his loose nightshirt in an effort to cover the obvious stain on the front of his pants.

“Good evening, master,” Guillermo greets with his usual respectful subservience.

Good. Perhaps he won’t have to work too hard at reestablishing the boundaries he’d so savagely torn down the night before. It’s imperative that Nandor reminds his familiar of his place within the household and, especially, within their...relationship. His reaction to drinking Guillermo’s blood was shameful and he does not want his familiar getting any high ideas about a romance with his master.

He knows--how could he not?--of Guillermo’s inappropriate attraction to him. He hears the way the human’s heartbeat races whenever they are physically close. He sees the secret grins on Guillermo’s lips when Nandor does anything the least bit kind. But a romantic relationship between a vampire and a familiar? Yeeck! It’s just not done. Of course, he considered the sex slave option when this unnatural lust first manifested. Other vampires make such arrangements with their familiars. But Guillermo would want more. He would want snuggles and romance and caring and...maybe even a break from his chores?! And the idea of using Guillermo for sex, while appealing, also causes him to feel a burning, stabby pain in his chest that he can’t identify.

No, it is better that he keep things strictly professional. A master and his servant. Nothing more.

Nandor finally steels himself to look up at his familiar, keeping his face a cold, forbidding mask. And then he sees the massive bruise on Guillermo’s neck.

It’s an angry, deep purple that extends from his jaw down the side of his neck and beneath the collar of his fuzzy sweater. Two scabbed puncture wounds sit in the center of the damage, like demon eyes looking back at Nandor accusingly. He sucks in a breath and involuntarily reaches out to brush his fingers against the wounded skin. Guillermo flinches away from the touch with a pained mew.

“It’s just...tender, master,” Guillermo explains, almost apologetically.

Nandor can’t think straight. His eyes, liquid and deep, full of some unnameable emotion, focus on the damage he’s caused. How many dead bodies has he tossed aside without a qualm? How many bruises and bites and broken bones has he caused? But he’s never seen the results on someone he--

“I...Guillermo,” he whispers, finally locking eyes with his human and bringing his hand up to cup his cheek, “I did not mean to be causing permanent damage…”

Guillermo gasps softly at his master’s touch. He leans into it, silently thrilling when Nandor doesn’t immediately draw his hand away.

“Permanent? No, master, it’s just a bruise. It will fade eventually,” Guillermo assures him, but Nandor still looks skeptical.

“Does it hurt?” he asks and Guillermo brims with happiness at his master’s concern.

“Only a little bit, Na--master,” Guillermo stumbles, nearly breaking the carefully established protocol between them.

Nandor notes the mistake and snatches his hand away as if he’s been burned by holy water. He clambers out of the coffin without Guillermo’s assistance. They go through the motions of dressing. Nandor bends down so that Guillermo can get his shirt on over his head, steps into his trousers and boots, and sits quietly while Guillermo arranges his hair. All the while a single word cycles through his head.

Fuck!

---

Guillermo is practically buzzing with energy despite last night’s blood loss. Every time he moves he feels a delicious tug on his wound and the memories of his master’s touch come flying back to the surface of his mind. He doesn’t even care that Nandor dismissed him so abruptly after getting dressed. Nor does he care that he gave him a seemingly random and unnecessary order before fleeing the crypt in his bat form. Guillermo sits on the floor surrounded by his master’s extensive blade collection, carefully cleaning and polishing each one with a giant, goofy grin on his face.

---

“Well, well, well...doing the flight of shame, Nandor?” Laszlo chuckles at his own joke as Nandor drops out of his bat form into a chair in the fancy room.

“Very good joke, darling! Because he’s finally given the sex to Gizmo!” Nadja crows.

The couple are sitting together in the loveseat. Laszlo is bent over Nadja’s hand, painting her nails and heedlessly dripping lacquer all over the upholstery as he does so.

Nandor’s face blanches in alarm and he cries, “What the shit are you two talking about!? I have not been doing sex with Guillermo! Yuck! Unspeakable! Why would that even occur to you?”

“Me thinks he doth protest too much, eh, darling?” Laszlo remarks to another shriek of laughter from his wife.

Nandor jerks to his feet, bristling and defensive, but before he can think of a reply Laszlo continues, “Well if you weren’t having sex then what the blazes were you doing to the chap to cause those tantalizing moans?”

With this Laszlo launches into a cartoonish impression of the desperate cries and moans that Guillermo made as Nandor drank from him. Nadja claps her hands in delight and joins in the fun. The pair of perverts are soon screeching and twitching in exaggerated, obscene mockery of his familiar.

“Enough!” Nandor roars, stomping his foot petulantly. “Stop speaking of my familiar this way! It’s highly inappropriate!”

“So, you’re saying you didn’t roger your little rotten soldier last night?” Laszlo arches a brow, snorting under his breath derisively.

Nandor stares back at him in confusion, “What the fuck--?! No! Certainly not. Very...disgusting to even say such a thing. Gross!”

Laszlo glances to Nadja with a sly smirk as he speaks, “Then you wouldn’t mind if my good lady wife and I extended an invitation to the fellow to join us in a ménage à threesome?”

Nandor takes to the air, eyes glowing with rage as he hisses wildly at Laszlo.

“Hey dudes, what’s all the fuss about?” Colin Robinson, drawn by the pulsing waves of drama emanating from the room, appears in the doorway.

Nandor drops back onto his feet and whines, “Laszlo is making unsavory claims about my familiar and I won’t have it!”

“Nandor’s being a snake dick because he’s horny for his familiar and won’t admit it!” Nadja counters.

Nandor’s mouth snaps shut at that. Nadja’s words have struck true and Nandor feels a shiver of panic at the thought of his shameful secret being known throughout the household. He must convince them they’re mistaken...but how?

He’s still too enraged to think straight and rather than address Nadja’s words he simply bellows, “Satisfaction! I will have satisfaction against these two perverts!”

Colin grins, his eyes lighting with hungry delight, “How about a contest of some sort? Whoever wins is right. Of course, you should choose a neutral activity. Something in which you’re all equally matched. A checkers tournament? Scrabble, maybe…”

“A contest! Yes!” Nandor interrupts with an excited grin. “A challenge of strength and accuracy! Guillermo! Bring me my axes for throwing! My throwing axes!”

Nadja rolls her eyes and looks about to argue when Laszlo stops her with a hand on her arm.

“I say, good idea, Nandor. We’ll compete in a game of throwing axes. But to prove that you really are telling the truth and you don’t harbor secret, moist fantasies about your little familiar, we’ll make it more interesting. Whoever gets their axe closest to Gizmo without skewering the little guy wins!”

Nandor deflates, “That’s not...I don’t…”

Guillermo enters carefully holding a bundle of wickedly sharp axes. The blades shine in the candlelight and contrast against the soft, muted colors of his sweater. Nandor imagines one of those blades sinking into his familiar’s soft flesh and he shivers.

Laszlo looks as if he’s already won the little game he’s playing and Nandor clenches his fists, forcing levity into his voice as he announces, “Everyone in the garden! We are going to have a little game!”

---

Guillermo can’t decide if he’s more livid or terrified. He’s standing up against the fence, shivering despite his hat and coat, and desperately trying to hold still as his master casually tests the weight of the axe in his hand. Nadja and Laszlo look on, each carrying axes of their own, and Colin Robinson looks positively frenzied as he feeds off the tension in the air.

“Master, why are we doing this, again?” Guillermo wishes his voice didn’t have such a marked tremor in it.

“I am defending your honor, Guillermo. Now be very, very still,” Nandor launches the axe without any further warning.

Guillermo shrieks and he feels the air to the right of his head part as the blade sinks into the wood of the fence an inch away from his face. He turns to stare at the quivering handle with wide, horrified eyes.

“There!” Nandor announces with a smug smile. “No one could beat such a throw! Contest over, I win. Guillermo, attend me--”

Nandor is already starting to stride back to the house but Guillermo barely has a chance to let out a relieved sigh when Laszlo steps up wielding his own weapon.

“Not so fast, Gizmo! I’ll have my turn, thank you!” his voice lilts up dramatically as he raises the axe, screwing one eye shut and taking aim.

Nandor whirls, eyes wide with panic as he urgently hisses, “Be still, Guillermo!”

Guillermo shuts his eyes, whimpering as he awaits his fate. One second Laszlo is letting out a manful bellow as the axe leaves his fingers and the next second Guillermo is hissing in pain as the blade cuts into his cheek. His eyes flash open in shock and he brings his hand up to cup his face. Blood pours from the shallow wound. The pain is a sharp, burning intensity that brings tears stinging to his eyes.

“Ha!” Nandor gloats. “You’ve lost! Your blade touched...him.”

Laszlo swears under his breath but Nandor has lost his steam as the reality of his words hits him. He steps forward, involuntarily reaching for his wounded familiar. Then he catches the knowing look on Laszlo’s face and he stops himself, straightening his spine and raising his head in a show of haughty indifference that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“My turn!” Nadja trills, flipping her axe from hand to hand with a little skip in her step.

“Master… please!” Guillermo begs. There are tears leaking from his eyes now. Whatever fucking insult Nandor thinks they made against him isn’t worth this!

“Yes, Nandor, the boy has a point. My lady wife is known for many...eclectic skills, but her aim isn’t one of them. We could put a stop to this if you’d care to admit we’re right about your shameful little secret…”

“Never!” Nandor shouts, looking like a giant, angry toddler.

Guillermo’s head spins, “What? What is he talking about, master?”

Nandor turns to his familiar, injecting authority into his voice as he commands, “Guillermo, tell Nadja and Laszlo that we were not doing sex together last night!”

“E-excuse me!?” Guillermo sputters, feeling a heated blush creep up his neck.

Nandor lets out a frustrated growl and his lips curl in revulsion as he shouts, “Tell them that I did not have disgusting, unnatural sex with a...a...human servant! I order you!”

The hand he’s kept clutched over the bleeding wound on his cheek falls limp at his side. Guillermo looks from his master’s cold, detached expression to Nadja and Laszlo’s expectantly curious faces and he sighs in resignation even as another tiny piece of his heart chips and falls away.

“...He didn’t,” he says in a small voice and then, more loudly, “We did not have sex.”

Laszlo looks unconvinced and Nadja just looks annoyed.

“This is getting very boring and I still have not had my turn to throw the axe! Here I go!”

She flings the blade through the air with barely a glance in Guillermo’s direction. It wobbles in the air, toppling end over end as it cuts a deadly path that Nandor immediately sees will end in his familiar’s gut. Guillermo has barely enough time to flinch but Nandor moves with supernatural speed, dashing in front of his human and plucking the axe from the air before it can hurt him.

“Nadja!” Nandor admonishes in an affronted tone. “That was very careless of you! You could have seriously injured my Gui--my familiar! I’m very annoyed with you both!”

Guillermo trembles from behind Nandor, clinging to the fabric of his cape for comfort despite the anger, hurt and resentment that still broils just beneath the surface of his emotions. He’ll deal with all that once his legs resolidify.

Laszlo waves away the near-catastrophe with a flick of his wrist and holds out his arm for Nadja as he comments, “I think we have our answer, darling…”

Nandor’s hands curl into fists at his sides as he watches the other vampires stroll away with smug satisfaction on their faces.

Fucking shit!

---

“Guillermo…” Nandor pauses on his way up the step stool, he squeezes his familiar’s hand in his. “About tonight…”

He’s going to apologize for putting me in danger...for saying those things… Guillermo looks up at him with hopeful expectation in his eyes.

“I hope you are not getting strange notions in your little human brain because of what Laszlo said. It was very wrong of him to make such a sickening claim,” Nandor’s voice is pure condescension.

Guillermo is silent for a beat, swallowing against the lump of emotion in his throat and blinking his eyes rapidly before looking his master in the eye and lying, “Of course not, master.”

Nandor nods in satisfaction and he swings down into his coffin. But he tastes the edge of human sadness beginning to taint the air of the room and he frowns. Hadn’t this whole mess started because he was trying to get rid of the sad human smell? He is caught in one of those hog day loops!

Nandor hesitates, scowling as he chooses his words, “But… I am sorry about the axes. It wasn’t my idea. And… and… I would have been really sad if you had died, because you’re...special to me, Guillermo.”

Nandor lets the words hang in the air for a moment, watching the start of a smile curling his familiar’s lips before shaking his head and waving a hand in front of Guillermo’s face in a flourish, “You will forget about that last thing I just said.”

#nandermo #nandor x guillermo #guillermo x nandor #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #wwdits fanfic #wwdits

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fics-and-shits · 4 years

Text

Marvel Fic Recs

***smut

Tom Holland x Reader

Oneshots

The Interview (Actress!Reader) by @bigballofstress

You’re Tom Holland’s costar and girlfriend since the end of Civil War. Usually, you go on interviews together, but this time, you are requested alone on Ellen.

Cinderella (Actress!Reader) by @thewackywriter

Who knew that going to another boring award show and walking around barefoot would lead her right to her Prince Charming?

Drop the Mic by @young-and-bitchy

You’re in a rap battle with Tom Holland.

Vlogs by @spideyyeet

Being in the vlog squad was dope af but having David Dobrik run into Tom Holland and getting him to surprise you was a whole other thing. Now let’s see what’s it like to have Tom meet the vlogsquad and be with the girl that’s making him rethink some decisions.

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Oneshots

Send to All Pranks (Actress!Reader) by @thrandybaby

You’re a British actress appearing on the Michael McIntyre Chat Show, but hilarity ensues at your expense when you accept the challenge to play the infamous ‘Send to All’ prank.

Morning After by @mindrunningfree

After a drunken night out, you wake up in a stranger’s bed, and on a scale of one to ten, your level of confusion is a fifteen.

Platonic!Avengers Cast x Reader

Oneshots

Beliefs (Teen!Reader) by @supersoldierfreak

A group press conference with the Avengers cast where you reveal your political views.

Sleeping Beauty by @chrixa

You didn’t know that the Avengers cast can also be called sneaky paparazzi. Also you love sleeping. Who doesn’t, right?

Handmade With Love by @capsicletho

Christmas is the time to give your loved one some gifts. What happens when you give your famous second family something handmade?

Clint Barton x Reader

Series

Agent 41 (Agent!Reader) by @nacho-bucky

An easily-distracted SHIELD agent with a sweet tooth and too many pairs of sneakers. Nothing ever quite works out the way she wants. But hey - it does work out! Usually

Peter Parker x Reader

Oneshots

Clingy Peter Parker by @spider-bih

A clingy Peter Parker and the reader loves it

Anything For You by @pparkerwrites

Introducing Peter Parker, dog whisperer by day, Spiderman and dog whisperer by night.

Series

Far From You Trilogy and Blurbs by @hey-marlie

Y/N Stark is really not here for this European school vacay because in this post-endgame world, she’s mourning the loss of her dad. But one (1) sticky boi Peter Parker is just trying to be the friend he once was while also trying not to flirt too much because if she rejects him (which she wouldn’t, not that he knows that) while they’re in Venice, holy hell he’ll just pitch himself off the gondola right then and there.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Oneshots

Sparks (Enemies to Lovers AU) by @sunriserose1023

You and Bucky started off on the wrong foot and it’s just been downhill ever since, and the last time you gave him a chance, you ended up with five broken ribs. It’s just not meant to be.

Cheap Thrills by @avengerofyourheart

A bet within the Avengers becomes a battle of the sexes, with you at the center of it. Who will be victorious and could it somehow help you snag the man of your dreams?

Air B&E (Enemies to Lovers AU) by @avengerofyourheart

When a mission requires close proximity with your least favorite teammate, you try to make the best of it, but a change in plans adds new challenges and possibly a new opportunity.

Notebook (College AU) by @softlybarnes

Bucky and Y/N sit next to each other all semester. They never talk to each other, until one day they do.

The Florist // The Beekeeper // The Pumpkin Carver (Enhanced!Reader) by @softlybarnes

Bucky and Y/N make flower crowns together. Both reveal more than they plan to.

Freckles (Drunk!Reader) by @softlybarnes

The Reader likes Bucky’s freckles a whole lot.

The Regular by @brooklyn-boy

Bucky Barnes is a regular at your bar. He comes in, he makes sure trouble stays away, and then he leaves. This really wouldn’t be a problem if he weren’t so good looking and you weren’t totally in love with him.

Fourth Time’s the Charm by @brooklyn-boy

Bucky remembers the three times he meets a certain thief, and is blindsided by the fourth.

Trepidation by @brooklyn-boy

You’re rescued from HYDRA by the Avengers, only to be met with a ghost of the past in the form of Bucky Barnes. They tell you he was brainwashed, that it wasn’t him, but you aren’t so sure.

Blink Twice by @brooklyn-boy

Zemo kidnaps Bucky and injects him with some sort of drug that paralyzes him and takes away his ability to speak. He’s meant to die alone, in a ditch like he was supposed to back in 1944. But then someone finds him…

Uptown Boy (30s AU) by @brooklyn-boy

You’ve spent so long pretending to be a selfish, conceited, spoiled little rich girl that somewhere along the way, the line was blurred. Now faced with an ultimatum, you have to decide if your pride is worth the only person who’s ever truly loved you.

The Scoop (POC Journalist!Reader) by @brooklyn-boy

Bucky Barnes laments the fact that every single person he cares about is a dumbass when it comes to their own personal safety. He also hates every single journalist, newscaster or reporter he’s ever met until you.

Who Are You Trying to Fool by @notimetoblog

A perfect chance of messing with new recruits presents itself to Bucky. Can he pull it off or will you foil his plan?

We’re Gonna Need a Bigger House by @sunmoonandbucky

You find the courage to tell Bucky about your latest ultrasound.

But Here I Am (Agent!Reader) by @sunmoonandbucky

After years of being separated from the Avengers, Bucky finds you during a job.

Take it Easy, Romeo by @sunmoonandbucky

The Soldat remembers one person through it all.

***A+ (Dark!Professor Bucky x CollegeAged!Reader)by @chixkencxrry

You thought that all your credits had been complete, but a glitch in the system forces you to take a summary course in order for you to graduate. Insert Professor Barnes, your history professor who’s a total ass.

A Year of Firsts (College AU) by @whitewolfbumble

Part One // Part Two

It wasn’t supposed to be a year of firsts, but then you met Bucky and everything started to fall into place.

13 Cats and a Sorceress by @kentuckybarnes

Beings from another dimension start to invade New York City, and cats invade Avengers Tower.

Sounds Like a Personal Problem (Law Firm AU) by @kentuckybarnes

Part One // Part Two

“Remember that favor you owe me?” “Uh-oh”

Pulling Rank (Agent!Reader) by @kentuckybarnes

A mission has gone badly, and you have a reckoning.

Start With My Name (Medic!Reader) by @kentuckybarnes

Part One // Part Two

Things get out of hand at a strike mission against Hydra, and you’re responsible for cleaning up the mess.

It Doesn’t Mean Anything (Until it Does) (Agent!Reader) by @cordytriestowrite

The things that you and Bucky do don’t mean anything so just drop it okay?

Vulnerability (Modern AU) by @mareli-carter

“We’re both in small claims court and I got into a huge fight with the person suing me but you stepped in to hold me back before security got there.”

Important by @mareli-carter

“I did that annoying thing where I put loads of smaller boxes inside one big box, and you’re getting really mad, but I can’t wait to see your face when you open the smallest box.”

Two Punks In Love (40s AU) by @jaamesbbarnes

Years go by but the way you and Bucky care for each other doesn’t change. You’re still the punk who starts fights with anyone breathing in the wrong direction, he’s still a charming little fucker.

Bulletproof (Agent!Reader) by @jaamesbbarnes

You and Bucky are the most competitive little shits there ever was.

Fair Play (Agent!Reader) by @jaamesbbarnes

After a rough mission, you and the team go to Coney Island for some fun. Still injured, you can’t go on the rollercoaster with the others so Bucky decides to keep you company and to make your day as memorable as possible.

Saving the Day by @jaamesbbarnes

On your way back home, you are being followed by a couple of creeps. When your eyes fall on the most impressive and handsome Avengers, you don’t think twice and find yourself a fake boyfriend and savior.

I’m Not Going Anywhere by @jaamesbbarnes

Working for Stark isn’t always a walk in the park, it’s exhausting. But a certain super soldier and his constant flirting make it bearable.

Emergency Room (Doctor!Bucky) by @jaamesbbarnes

Who would have thought that going to the ER could made a bad night turn pretty nicely?

Series

Holiday Heist (Thief!Bucky, Modern AU) by @avengerofyourheart

When the art gallery you manage is robbed on Christmas Eve, you suspect the handsome stranger who flirted with you earlier in the day, but instead of involving the authorities, you take matters into your own hands with surprising consequences.

Flour Girl (Enemies to Lovers AU) by @avengerofyourheart

Discovering the cute guy you just flirted with is the heir of a rival bakery, you suddenly find yourself running into him all over the city. Can your small boutique bakery compete? And how do you deal with the guy who seems determined to make your life a living hell? Luckily you’re distracted by a secret admirer…But who is he?

Playing With Fire (Modern AU) by @sunriserose1023

Some things just do not mix. Oil and water. Fire and gasoline. You and Bucky Barnes. When it was good, it was great, but when it was bad, it destroyed everything in its path. You’d tried–both of you had–but some things just aren’t meant to be. A year after your break up, Bucky gives you a call, and you willingly dive headfirst back into his orbit. You set boundaries this time, put up walls, determined to keep yourself from being burned again. You’re not about to let him get too close. Only problem? Bucky didn’t get that memo.

***Incubus (Incubus!Bucky) by @after-avenging-hours

When some of the best sex of your life leads to the unveiling of a world you barely even knew existed, you know you’re in a heap of trouble. James Buchanan Barnes is the kind of man that fills your deepest and darkest fantasies, mainly because he is one. When emotions get involved in a relationship that’s been founded on sex, there’s no turning back. And honestly, you’re not even sure if you want to.

***Disney Corruption by @after-avenging-hours

Bucky joins you for your late-night Disney movie sessions. It’s difficult for him to get through them without finding the sexual innuendos

***Hunter!Bucky by @after-avenging-hours

Bucky is part of the hunting party for the village. One day, he catches you in the woods, long after you should be tucked away, safe in the village.

Heartbeat (Soulmate AU) by @after-avenging-hours

Soulmate AU where your heartbeat matches the beat of your soulmate’s; they speed up together, slow down together, skip at the same time, but that means they also stop together…

I’ll Be Seeing You by @brooklyn-boy

The Howling Commandos come across a tortured Italian woman in the winter of 1944. With only rudimentary means of communication, Sergeant Bucky Barnes still somehow finds himself falling in love.

Siren’s Song by @brooklyn-boy

The Avengers come across the profile of an enhanced individual, missing and presumed still under HYDRA’s control. With the power to bend anyone’s will with just a command, the team decides to prioritize freeing this individual. But trust is hard to earn from a former HYDRA asset. Nobody knows this more than Bucky.

Clan of Three (Mandalorian!Bucky) by @brooklyn-boy

Bucky Barnes is a Mandalorian bounty hunter. All he has to do is take this kid and her glorified babysitter back to the client and be done with it. That’s it. Simple?

Revival by @brooklyn-boy

Bucky returns to his childhood home only to discover its inheritor struggling to return it to its former glory. Luckily for you, Bucky’s memory isn’t that bad.

Compromised by @brooklyn-boy

As a Senator for New York, you’ve been fighting hard to have Sergeant James Barnes acquitted. An attempt on your life by a new terrorist sect brings you in contact with the Avengers themselves, and even closer to the man you’ve been working so hard to protect…

Uptown Girl (Millionaire!Bucky, Modern AU) by @brooklyn-boy

Epilogue

Bucky Barnes is a bit of an eccentric millionaire. He lives alone, aside from his housekeeper/personal assistant. When his mother tells him he needs to get married or be cut off, Bucky lies and tells his mother that his long-suffering assistant is his fiance.

Out of Time by @brooklyn-boy

On the run from HYDRA in 2023, you accidentally use your time-traveling technology to jump 80 years back in time. Safe for the time being and with Howard Stark vouching for the legitimacy of your time travel claims, you’re stuck in the SSR headquarters until you can fix your gear. Which wouldn’t be half as hard if a certain James ‘Bucky’ Barnes wasn’t so damn distracting…

Stereotypical (Model!Bucky, Modern AU) by @avasparks

As a PA/secretary, you are all too familiar with the fantasies nearly all men share: banging their hot assistant. Former jobs haven’t worked out for you for that exact reason, and now starting out at a new company, as the secretary for the CEO of the hottest modeling agency in the country, you’re hoping this one will be different. But after meeting your new boss, Mr. J.B. Barnes, you’re not so sure if it will be. Then again, maybe Mr. Barnes is not as stereotypical as you think he is.

Sugar (40s AU) by @softlybarnes

By a miracle of fate, Bucky Barnes does not fall off of the train. He does not spend decades as a brainwashed assassin. Instead, he goes home to Brooklyn to spend his life with a girl he adores, a snarky nurse that he met during the war.

Two Kingdoms (Royals AU) by @softlybarnes

Y/N, set to be a queen, is taken on her wedding day by King James, the ruler of another land. At first glance, James’ Kingdom seems to be thriving but Y/N soon realizes something darker and more sinister is at work in James’ land. And she seems to be at the center of it.

City Love (CEO!Bucky, Modern AU) by @chrevastan

You attend one of Natasha’s office parties against your will and end up meeting a charming stranger who turns out to be the person who runs the company.

Next to Me by @sgtjbuccky

After an attempt on you and your identical twin’s life, your father calls in the Avengers for protection. Bucky soon realizes your father’s goal is solely to keep you sister safe, and decides that the times of doing the bidding of others are long gone, and takes your protection into his own hands.

Most Wanted (Thief!Bucky, Modern AU) by @sgtjbuccky

The life you dreamed of wasn’t the one you lived. Day in and day out you tried to change the outcome, but somehow you always ended up right where you began. Fed up with it all, you wished upon a star and was granted with Bucky Barnes, and it wouldn’t take you long to realize that whatever mess you were about to get tangled up in, it would change your life entirely.

Merry and Married (Modern AU) by @sunriserose1023

It’s been almost a year since the most humiliating moment of your life. You’ve done your best to move on—by literally moving across the country, starting a new job, and you’re finally starting to feel settled. That, of course, is when your bubblehead cousin sends you the invitation to her wedding—which is exactly one year to the day that you were left at the altar. You have to go, but you don’t have to go alone.

Astrophile (Firefighter!Bucky, Single Dad AU) by @all1e23

Orion Rebecca Barnes’s favorite thing in the whole world (Besides her daddy of course) was spending hours after school in the bookstore by her house. Aunt Nattie takes her every time her dad has to work an overnight shift at the station and it’s her absolute favorite place. Plus, the owner GIVES her any book she wants because she’s the coolest girl Ori has ever met. It didn’t take long for Bucky to notice his daughter’s sudden interest in constellations and the large stack of astrology related books piling up in her room. He’s spent her entire life trying to teach her about the stars and where her name came from with little interest from his little comet and all of sudden she’s in love?

To Build a Home (Family AU) by @ussgallifreyfics

The glimpses into a life Bucky never thought was possible for himself. A world where he would find someone who he could love and be loved in return - a person he could start a family with. This is how an ex-assassin navigates the world of parenthood.

Not Happening (Modern AU) by @notimetoblog

An online dating site clearly makes a mistake when it matches you with the one person you cannot stand.

Hero For Hire by @delicatelyherdreams

Tired of constantly being sat on the sidelines for missions, Bucky Barnes decides that he’s going to do his own hero work and offer his services to the public as a freelance “hero for hire.” He expects to be asked to rescue cats from trees or help little old ladies cross the street, but he doesn’t expect to get tangled up in your life. He definitely doesn’t expect to fall for you either. But, when you’re a hero for hire, you’ve gotta see the mission through.

<<p>Stray by @jaamesbbarnes

When Bucky stumbles upon a stray cat near his building in Bucharest and takes him in, he doesn’t expect for his world to turn upside down.

Schlaflos (Rogers!Reader) by @mareli-carter

Steve’s younger sister, a nurse during the Second World War, finds herself in Hydra’s possession after trying to help the Howling Commandos save Bucky.

The White Wolf (Mobster!Bucky) by @captain-ariel-barnes

James “Bucky” Barnes is the most feared man in New York. What happens when a flower shop owner gets tangled up in his empire?

Sly as a Fox (Vigilante!Reader, SocialMedia AU) by @sunmoonandbucky

After the blip, the Avengers continue on with business as usual. But they soon find out that while they were away, someone took it upon themselves to do the job they left behind.

A Lesson in Love (College AU) by @buckyywiththegoodhair

In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

***Artistic License (Sugar Daddy AU) by @cametobuyplums

Once upon a time in Paris, there was an aspiring creative down on her luck. What’s a beautiful young woman to do? Agree for the wealthy Bucky Barnes to be her Sugar Daddy, of course.

I’m With You (Modern AU) by @wkemeup

When two strangers meet on a layover in the Charlotte Airport, they are sent on a whirlwind weekend filled with cancelled flights, painful questions over giant checkers, an ex-boyfriend’s wedding, and a confrontational graduation. They find that a lifetime can sit in the span of three days and it doesn’t take very long at all to fall in love.

Flowers Bloom (Soulmate AU) by @revengingbarnes

Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. You are born with flowers around your entire left shoulder.

Agent 28 (Agent!Reader) by @kentuckybarnes

He’s a Soviet-trained assassin. You’re a secret agent. He has a thing for thigh holsters. You have a thing for his behind (who doesn’t?) But it’s all hush-hush. What shenanigans will the two of you get into to keep your affair concealed from the rest of the Avengers, all while you’re trying to save the world?

Howler & The Black Cat (Vigilante!Bucky x Vigilante!Reader) by @kentuckybarnes

By day, you’re just another employee at Stark Tower. By night? A justice-seeker known as Black Cat. No one knows your secret, and certainly not your sometime partner in vigilante activity, sometime-pain in the butt Romeo, Howler. But no matter how hard he tries, you have no intention of giving in…

While You Were Sleeping (mentioned Steve Rogers x Reader) by @kentuckybarnes

Mistaken as Captain America’s girlfriend following a near-death experience, you keep up the pretense under the suspicious eyes of his best friend, Bucky Barnes. But soon you find out that Steve Rogers isn’t all he’s supposed to be, and somehow, Bucky is so, so much more.

Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree (40s!Bucky x OC) by @kentuckybarnes

In 1941 Brooklyn, a young woman spends her nights sneaking out of her parents’ house to play jazz piano at clubs. Although she disguises herself to keep out of trouble, it doesn’t fool everyone.

Sugar Daddy’s (Modern AU) cowritten by @kentuckybarnes and @nacho-bucky

Suave, confident, charming Bucky Barnes has a deep dark secret – and you, a small-town investigative journalist, are determined to get to the bottom of it. What lurks in his shadowed past, and how deeply will you be drawn in? Co-written with @caitfairwrites!

Seven-Thirty (Modern AU) by @nacho-bucky

You were planning on a productive — if lonely — weekend, but the little girl across the hall has different ideas about how you and Bucky Barnes should be spending your time.

Lemon Pie (40s AU) by @nacho-bucky

Moments measured in messy days and peaceful nights; in too-tart pies and slobbery toys. Bucky returns from war to find a life he never expected: a rich symphony of mishaps and mayhem and immeasurable love.

#fic recs #marvel #avengers fic #bucky barnes fic #clint barton fic #tom hiddleston fic #tom holland fic #peter parker fic #loki fic

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princessozera · 4 years

Text

Not OM, I just wanted to post here the first ever fic I actually wrote and published

I WOULD LIKE TO SAY AS A DISCLAIMER EVEN THOUGH I PUBLISHED IT LAST YEAR (2 years ago?) I WAS ACTUALLY YOUNGER WHEN I WROTE THIS. I DO NOT SIMP FOR DAMIAN LIKE THAT ANYMORE, HE IS MY SON.

The Only Exception

(Aged up/Older Damian Wayne x OC)

The seats are filled, the air is comforting, music and perfume floating in the air. Today Rosella Anderson is to be wed to Damian Wayne. But, weddings never quite go according to plan. Talia and Ra's Al Ghul have made it clear they don't like her, on multiple occasions. But with no less than 50 trained fighters and investigators on both sides of the aisle, nothing can interrupt or ruin her special day...... Right?

Chapter 1: Getting Married Today

"Come on, suck it in!"

"I HAVEN'T EVEN EATEN TODAY!" I whined as Alice yanked the ribbons on my corset tighter.

"WATCH IT!" Crystal swats away Alice's hands and undoes the ribbons a bit. "Suffocate her and she doesn't make it down the aisle, pack her like a sausage and my hours of makeup will have gone to waste!" She huffed and finish tying the ribbons, satisfied that they weren't too tight.

"I don't think I ever really appreciated the amount of work it takes to make curly hair not be frizzy," Barbra Gordon says between sips of champagne, lounging on the hotel bed.

"That's why I don't do my hair that often," I laugh, sitting on an ottoman so Alice can put my veil on and Crystal can help me put on my garter. My maid of honor, Cassandra Cain, came over and tried to feed me some fruit slices. I tried to argue, but I couldn't hold my own as she stared me down. I let her feed me some cantaloupe slices until she was satisfied and went off to finish getting ready.

"You really are a queen today!" Stephanie laughed as she walked around the room again, holding a video recorder. I tried to hide my face, but she grabbed my hand and swung it around. "A beautiful princess for Gotham's own prince! Tell us, your majesty, how are you feeling, about to be married off to Gotham's richest stone statue?" The girls laughed but I just shook my head at her. "Me, Tim, and Dick are making a documentary for you two. Any words for the lucky man? Anything you want to say to your future self, your family, your future kids? " Whistles and laughs went around the room and I couldn't help but blush.

"Well, let's take this one step at a time," I laughed to hide my own embarrassment. "Damian," I started, looking directly into the camera, "I don't believe in love at first sight, but damn did we square up on first sight. Not many people can say they had a full on MMA fight with their future spouse within minutes of meeting them. Yet, after that whole fiasco was solved, you've never been anything but gentle with me. People always said we wouldn't last; lava and ice. Water and a drought. Incompatible. But you were the first to look past who I had to be, to see who I was trying to be. You brought me a family, and I like to think I've brought you some serenity. I don't believe in destiny, and I'm not too sure about fate, but I believe in us. I believe that I'll fight for you until the end of time because you'd do the same for me. Because you are my home, and there's no place I'd rather be." I get choked up, wanting nothing more than to have him in my arms right now. I missed him like hell, even though it's only been 2 days since I've seen him.

"This isn't the time to start reciting your wedding vows silly," Cass said and I couldn't help but giggle. She wipes away the tears that I hadn't felt form, making sure to not mess with my mascara. Stephanie sighs happily and puts the camcorder down, reaching over to hug me.

"I'm so glad I get to be your sister," she whispered to me, and I hugged back tighter. We both jerked in surprise at the knock at the door. I immediately reached for my bag, looking for my well-worn notebook, but Cass's hand steadied me. Barbra got up, fixed her dress and went over to the door.

"Who is-" She stiffens up immediately, hand pulling back from the handle. "It's Talia." Stephanie immediately got in front of me, and I grabbed Cass's hand as she reached for her own bag, searching for her gun. I'd never told my friends about Talia, but they took the hint found their way to their respective bags, throwing knives and whips at the ready. Truthfully, I was finding it a little hard to breathe and I doubt it was the dress. The knock came again, more insistent, but no one moved.

"It's your call Rose," Barbra said, her eyes never leaving the door.

"Let her in," I tug on Cass's arm and she helps me stand up. "If she wanted me offed, she would have gotten someone else to do it. Or at least she wouldn't have knocked." Crystal and Alice look between all of us in alarm and decide to take the window as Stephanie goes to back up Babs by the door. The door opens, and there stands Talia, as beautiful and regal as ever. She glances over everyone before finally meeting my eyes.

"Lady Al Ghul, please come in. To what do I owe the pleasure?" I said, fidgeting with my dress. She steps in, nodding to Babs and Stephanie.

"I'd like to have a word with you before the ceremony," She says, running her hand along the wet counter cluttered with makeup. "Alone," She said with a pointed look when no one moved. That harsh edge was enough to get everyone to cover or flank me again. She didn't respond to this, simply staring at me. I put my hand on each girl's back, one by one.

"Go, I'll be fine. We'll be right here," Babs stares me down, but I nod back. She caves and starts to leave; Alice, Crystal and eventually Stephanie following behind, after she grabs something off the bed. Cass refused to move.

"Do I need to remind you that you can barely move your waist in that monstrous dress? She'd get to you before any of us were the wiser," She whispered in my ear, holding my arm pretty tightly. I wormed my way out of her grasp and grabbed the worn notebook from my bag.

"I promise, it'll be fine. Anyways, I forgot there were 2 more things I needed to do," I flipped through the pages quickly, finding what I needed and handing it to her. "If you could please take care of it? You should be done by the time we're done talking and we can head to the venue." Cass read through it quickly, then looked at me again. She gave a curt nod and walked out as well.

"We'll be right outside," Babs says pointedly before closing the door. Talia and I stood in silence for a moment, before she slowly stalked towards me until she was less than 6 feet away.

"Lady Al-"

"Your still not worthy of my son." oop. Right to the point, as always. Can't say it didn't hurt.

"You're a commoner, a nobody. No title, no land, not even superior health to your name. You failed classes in high school, went to college on scholarships, and couldn't land a proper role in your field until a year in. Failure, after pitfall, after failure." JESUS CHRIST THIS LADY DID HER RESEARCH. My face burned in humiliation, but nothing I could say now would justify everything she just listed out. "And yet... Damian loves you."

"I may not like you, but I know how I raised him, and Bruce has done a good job of bringing up a boy worth more than the names he was born into. Wayne. Al Ghul. Damian. I will have faith in his choice, he is not a stupid boy. Foolish and stubborn yes, but not stupid. If he thinks you are worthy, there may be hope for you yet." holy shit, no way, is this actually happening? I'm too stunned to say anything, just grateful that my mouth isn't hanging open.

"When you return from your honeymoon I expect you to face me in a formal duel and undergo training as necessary," she puts her hands on her hips, challenging me to argue with her, but I was so happy I had to restrain myself from hugging her.

"It would be an honor to battle you Lady Al Ghul," I say, finding my tongue, stifling my giddiness with a bow, and a hand over my chest.

"Talia is also acceptable." She says with a nod, taking another step forward and adjusting the skirt of my dress and finally my veil before turning starting to walk back to the door. "My father and I will also be in attendance to this event, but if you ever wish to gain even an ounce of his approval, you'll need to do another more traditional ceremony at a later date." My heart swelled, and for a second, I legitimately thought I was going to break down crying. This was better than anything I could have prepared for. I couldn't just let her walk out like that.

"Damian'll be elated!" I yelled out to keep my voice from cracking. Talia stops, and I gush on. "I know you haven't had the easiest of relationships, with conflicting ideology and all, but he really does love you, and Ra's, even if he doesn't say it. He looks up to you guys and wants to make you proud. You being here will mean the world to him." I force myself to stop talking before I say something weird or bad. Talia turns back to me, walks up swiftly, and hugs me. I'm stiff in surprise, but manage to hug her back before she gives me one last nod and walks out. Everyone runs back in the second Talia is out.

"Are you ok? Are you hurt anywhere?" Babs immediately grabs my arms and starts inspecting me up and down for any sign of injury.

"Don't cry don't cry!" Alice pleads with me, fanning my face to prevent the tears from falling.

"Talia hugged her, check her back and skirt for anything weird," I look over to Stephanie, who was staring down at her camcorder. Had she left that hidden on the bed? I didn't even notice. But it was so sweet. I could show Damian later all the sweet words his mother said about him.

"Jesus, you're so teary today," Cass mumbles as she does her own inspection of my dress. When she's done, she sees my tears are of joy, so she hugs me. "Your journal's impressive," she says handing back my heart covered notebook. I'm still choked up and trying not to bawl in relief so once everyone was satisfied that I wasn't going to drop dead in the middle of the aisle, they sat me down so I could calm down while they finished up. I collected myself, the extremity of these emotions leaving me exhausted. I drifted off with the warm glow of my friend's laughter and love filling the air.

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

"No way, you did not fall asleep!"

"Get up get up get up!"

"Cass, I'm fully warning you right now. If she falls asleep at the ceremony like this, I'm throwing my bouquet at her head"

"You might have to beat Stephanie to it," Cass giggles, as she gently shakes me awake. I take a second to reorient myself, blinking the drowsiness out of my eyes, and stretching.

"Ooh, we could coordinate it though!" Stephanie perks up, "if she falls asleep; Alice and Crystal, take your flowers and make it rain, and then Babs, Cass and I hit her in the head. Guaranteed it'll wake her up!" We all laugh and I get up, taking a minute to appreciate my beautiful friends. It was a debated choice, but the deep purple fit everyone perfectly. We did have to make a few adjustments to Stephanie's overall look though, to keep her from looking too similar to her alter ego, Spoiler. Bouquet in every pair of hands, key cards in garter wallets and phones on silent, we made our way down to the venue.

"We're only running 10 minutes behind, it couldn't be helped," Babs tries to calm my nerves as I all but start jumping in the elevator. Cass also had to put a hand on my waist to pull me back when I almost ran to my place. She escorted me around to the side doors; the girls and I were coming in from the right, Damian and his groomsmen were coming in from the left. He had wanted to avoid any issue of who should walk him down the aisle; I thought it was cute how he couldn't choose between Dick and Bruce. Cass and I were slow dancing to calm my nerves when the rest of the girls came back.

"Pianist and minister are ready" -Babs

"Decorations are gorgeous and on point, everyone is in their seat and there are no fussy children" -Alice

"Lights, audio and AC are perfect and photographers are also ready" - Crystal.

I nodded, yes, everything was going smoothly. Of course, I had used everything I had when planning this. I was floating on cloud nine, simply nodding along when Babs spoke up.

"Has anyone seen Stephanie?" she asks, grip tightening on her bouquet. No one knew so we all just waited around for 5 minutes, everyone starting to get fidgety. Stephanie came back, 10 minutes later, looking a little out of breath and a bit pale, even under her makeup.

"Ok so there's a situation,- the guys are running late but it's okay they're o their way, they'll be here in 20 minutes!" Stephanie sped through the second half of her sentence when she saw that I was going to panic. I breathed out in relief and nodded, satisfied.

"I'll make the announcement, Dick probably went overboard trying to do his hair again," Babs snickered and headed into the ceremony hall. We played a light game of ninja as we waited to hear from the guys, but I soon became hyper-aware of time passing. I don't have the best perception of time, I don't even have a good memory, but I caught the looks my bridesmaids were giving each other.

The questioning looks.

The worry.

I let myself get kicked out of the next round and walked a little ways off, pulling my phone out and calling the number I knew by heart, ignoring the time that read that I was now almost 40 minutes late to my own wedding. The phone rang 3 times, and I turned away from my girls who were really getting into this game, rooting for Cass or Alice to win.

"Damian!" I sighed in relief when the line clicked. "hey, how much longer do you think you guys will be in traffic? If it's going to be another while, I can have it arranged so snacks and drinks are handed out so no one gets restless. I could also give the pianist a break, he's been playing the same chorus on repeat for the last half hour-" I let my voice trail off as I was met by a stone wall of silence. Not even a joke from Dick or Tim or Duke. I waited him out, after a minute of silence, Damian spoke up.

"I'm sorry beloved, I can't do this."

"What?" I asked, but my voice was so thin and breathy I doubt he heard me.

"I can't go through with this. This marriage, this wedding. It's all a joke. Who even cares about this mess? It's all so... stupid. Pointless." not a hint of hesitation, voice more ruthless than I had ever heard it. No. No way. was he serious!? I struggled to find my words, I shook with the pure effort of breathing normally even though I felt like I was having an actual heart attack; tight chest, palpitations, the whole 9 yards. Tremors ran through my body and I finally managed to choke out "Damian-"

"Goodbye Rosella" the line clicked off and I take a shuddering breath.

"Rose?" Cass says, gently putting a hand on my shoulder.

"He's not coming."

"What?"

"He's not coming!" I shriek, clutching my waist to stop my stomach from churning but to no avail; at least I didn't have much of lunch to throw up.

"What do you mean he's not coming!" Babs demands, yelling from where she was

"shit"

We all turn and there stands Jason, looking uncomfortable as hell and very much like he didn't want to be here. That confirmed it for everyone. Alice, Crystal, and Babs started yelling questions at Jason. Stephanie pulled out her own phone and started dialing a bunch of numbers but it seemed like no one was answering. Cass tried to speak with me, but my ears were ringing, it all sounded like white noise. And I felt cold. but hot. but freezing. I raise my hand and draw everyone's attention, all becoming deadly silent.

"Alice, Crystal. please go tell the pianist, the minister, and the photographer. Give them my email so I can settle up the charges later. Stephanie and Cass, please go see if we can keep the party reservations for tonight. Everyone else should enjoy them, even if there is no.... Barbra, could you please break the news that I... we..." everything got really blurry for a second and the floor rushed up to meet me, but I caught myself on the table before I could pass out completely.

Not here, not in front of them. Don't put them through a breakdown.

Everyone was fussing, but I couldn't stand here for another second. "Go. I just want to be alone. Please. go. GO!" I yelled and they all dispersed, shooting me worried looks. Cass gave me a long hug before she decided I needed a moment alone.

"Don't move from here." She instructed me. "Go get the guys," she demanded to Jason before going off. Jason looked at me sadly, trying to find the right words to say.

"Rose-"

"Please leave." he walked away without another word. Once I was sure he was out of earshot, I ran with everything I had out of the hallway.

Pardon me is everybody there

because if everybody's there id like to thank you all for coming to the wedding

I appreciate you going even more

I mean you must have had better things to do.

Thank you all for the gifts and the flowers,

Thank you all, now it's back to the showers

but I guess I'm not getting married today

The perfume is suffocating, overly sweet, fake as plastic, thick as sugar. I can't breathe, but I don't need air to run. Don't stop, move. Move. Move. The ribbons are strangling me. The garter is cutting off my circulation. Gloves are hurting me. High heels, weak ankles. My rolls of fat spilling out of the dress. rolls and rolls and rolls and rolls and rolls. can't stand. can't wait, I throw open the door to the stairs and take them in 3s.

Listen, everybody,

look, I don't know what you're waiting for.

A wedding. What's a wedding?

It's a prehistoric ritual

Where everybody promises fidelity forever,

Which is maybe the most horrifying word I ever heard of,

Which is followed by a honeymoon, where suddenly he'll realize

He's saddled with a nut, and want to kill me, which he should.

Thanks a bunch, but I'm not getting married

I scream as my veil gets caught in the handrail, yanking my head back, falling down a couple of stairs. No question, I rip it off. It stings, it hurts, bobby pins forcefully ripped out. The shoes go too, heels are stupid, why are they so tall. Tall and tall and make my knees wobbly. The taller they are the harder they fall. Up the stairs, 3 at a time, legs on fire. Don't stop, don't stop, hike the dress up and keep running all the way to the 50th floor.

Go have lunch, 'cause I'm not getting married

You've been grand, but I'm not getting married

Don't just stand there, I'm not getting married

But I'm not getting married today.

I slam open the hotel room door, to hell with neighbors. Suffocating, burning, melting heat. I rip off the gloves, scream as I can't get the ribbons out of my dress. I scream, jump, squirm and throw myself around until it finally comes off.

He didn't come. shut up.

He didn't want to. SHUT THE HELL UP

I felt everything to an extreme degree. Too much. Why am I breathing so heavily? Why am I sweating bullets!? I throw my hair up in a ponytail, yank the garter off, tripping over my own two feet. My phone falls next to my head and the only thing I can think to do is to throw it into the toilet. I grab my honeymoon bag- no, my emergency bag that happened to have cute clothes instead of food, and switch into my leggings and a t-shirt. It's all I had. It's all I could ask for.

Go! Can't you go?

Why is nobody listening?

Goodbye! Go and cry

At another person's wake.

If you're quick, for a kick

You could pick up a christening

But please, on my knees,

There's a human life at stake!

I'm parkouring down the stairs, jumping entire sections, falling on knees, but ignoring the pain to jump again. Emergency phone in one hand, I order the uber, start the bank transaction, even though I have to read everything 10 times for it to make sense. What do? where go? don't know. not here. One bad jump and I collapsed entirely, but as I scrambled to throw everything back in my bag, I see the plane tickets. yes. away. out. not here. leave.

Go! Can't you go?

Look, you know I adore you all

But why watch me die

Like Eliza on the ice?

Look, perhaps I'll collapse

In the apse right before you all

So take back the cake

Burn the shoes, and boil the rice

Out of the stairway, but slammed into a wall. Around the corner, Alice and Babs and Crystal and Jason and Stephanie and Cass and Bruce and Selina and Duke and Tim and Dick and Alfred.

Remember when you first met them? He swore he'd protect you but that they'd love you. please stop! I begged myself, think of anything, anything but him. anything but this. Get out, then we can cry, but not here, not now. I watched them split up, so I hid behind a corner farther back. Steph and Cass took up the stairs. Everyone else was gone so I ran out the back door. Out of the hotel, away from the perfume, away from the flowers, the candles, the dresses. From them. And by some small miracle, the car was already here. I jump in, only taking a second to notice that it was, in fact, an uber.

"Hello, ma'am! How are-"

"Please! Just go!" my voice breaks and the tears start up again. I brush them aside furiously/ doing everything in my power not to start sobbing, but he listens to me and speeds off.

BECAUSE I'M NOT GETTING MARRIED TODAY

(A twist on this song that actually inspired this whole fic)

Chapter 2: On The Run

I'm going to kill him

Why didn't he show up?

How fucking dare he

Was it something I did?

I was nervous too bitch; I drank a shot of tequila and sucked it up!

Was it something HE did? Was Talia lying? Did Ra's kidnap Damian? Why did the boys wait to tell us? Did Stephanie know that something was up? Do any of them even-

"Ughhhh," I groaned audibly as my thoughts and emotions started to run together. It had been a while since anything left me this.... discombobulated. Exhausted. A mess. I'd almost forgotten how awfully I reacted to being overwhelmed and out of control. The uber driver shot me a curious look but didn't say anything. Keep it together Rosella. Just, go home and.. I flinched, chagrined at my own stupidity. "Get somewhere safe" I amended under my breath, "and then you can have as big of a breakdown as you want. Just, be a stone again. Close it all out. Suppress the fire, drown the noise." I rubbed my eyes, the dry burn giving me the weirdest throbbing headache.

The ride to the airport was stiff, to say the least. My driver kept trying to talk to me, but my responses were so dry he gave up. He didn't question the extra stop at the bank, even while he waited outside for half an hour while I verified with tellers inside that I was, in fact, the owner of the account and that I was draining it.

Erase your tracks. You were never here. Are you even alive?

Still, we got to the airport as quickly as I could have hoped for and made sure to give him a large tip for his troubles. I walked through the airport, undoubtedly looking like some pompous bitch with only a stone face and backpack, my actual suitcase left behind in my whirlwind out. I only had some snacks, a Nintendo ds, some stationary things, deodorant, and a toothbrush. I hadn't even remembered to grab my disposable water bottle, toothpaste, or hair brush before leaving. Whatever.

It was almost flawless. I bypassed the checked bag lines, slid right through TSA (bless you TSA Pre-check), although I did get some looks when they checked my bag. I guess overall I looked like I should be getting on a school bus instead. I sat down at a cafe and pulled out the tickets, 2 first class tickets to Malaga, Spain.

I'd set up our honeymoon as a complete surprise to Damian. Bruce and the boys had worked so hard to help me clear out a whole month from his schedule. I'd gone through hell and back to make sure all of my project managers could handle any situation that could happen either in making or transporting our different projects out... We were supposed to be jumping cities for a month in Europe. Cities with small populations, so we could avoid drawing attention, but full of gorgeous architecture and delicious food for me; significant art history and cultural relevance for Damian.

It's going to be a technical nightmare to cancel all of those reservations and getting the tickets switched and sold. Do people even actually do that? But I have to, I don't know where I'm going but I don't want any of them to tra- SHIT. My head snaps up and one quick look around tells me I'm already too late. I spot 5 cameras easily.

I grab my things and head over to a gift shop. I grab bunches of clothes and accessories off of the shelves, hurrying off to pay and doing my best to avoid cameras now as I sneak off into the restroom. I throw on some atrocious sundress, flats, and a baseball cap, flipping my hair twice in an attempt to make it look like a pixie cut. For a second I consider actually finding something sharp to hack my hair off.

I need you to not be a social breakdown cliche for a minute, it took you years to properly grow those curls out. Please don't waste my efforts. Yeah, it's for the better, I look like Dora the Explorer with short hair anyway. Tim wouldn't sell me out to Damian, right? LMAOO he bailed at the wedding you really think he wants to hunt you down?? Or what if Tim wants to find me? Or anyone else? Damian's pretty good at following people. Even then, Babs, Cass, Roy are competent hackers, any of them could find my data and track me down... Are any of them even on my side?... I couldn't help but let out a whimper. I pursed my lips, placing my hands on the cold sink to calm myself. What's my plan anyways? I can't go to any of the cities in Europe where I already have reservations. Too easy. I could go to the Netherlands...

"But Damian knows where I lived there, because of the time we visited my friends," I sigh out loud, facepalming. "But not entirely a bad idea..." I say as I start flipping through the different cities I've lived through. Netherlands, Italy, Spain, Germany, France, Croatia, Portugal, Malta, Romania, Hungary, Austria, are all out. We'd either been there or they were part of the honeymoon plan. I didn't want any reminder of him.

Actually, all of Europe is out. I've raved about it too much. We've been too many places, we both had too many ties scattered throughout Europe. I can't speak Russian, Talia and Ra's have connections all across the middle east, and the north half of Africa. Jason and Cass had some unexplainable ties across north and south america. With every city I named, I hated myself more for talking so much. For trusting him with these memories.

Honeysuckle kisses on cotton candy memories.

shut up.

Isn't there ANYWHERE I've lived and worked that my big mouth hadn't mentioned? As I was starting to get desperate and the headache started acting up again, I found actually ecstatic relief. That would be actually literally perfect. God bless my forgetful memory. The apartment I'd never sold. The country I actively avoided talking about because Damian would get jealous.

I snuck out of the bathrooms and headed over to customer service. I had to work my way past a large group of people. Overhearing snippets of conversation, apparently, their flight is somewhere between delayed or canceled. Inspiration hit me. Give the ticket to someone here. Send them to Spain, let them stay at the hotel. He could follow a cold lead. This would give me enough time to go to one country and get a ticket to where I actually wanted to go.

I look around the group. Too many were in pair or more. Some looked very buisness-y type. There! A girl who looked like a backpacker was chilling, glancing through her phone. You're going to sound absolutely mental. I approach her nevertheless. I pitched her my idea, but she was rightfully skeptical. I swallowed my pride and told her a cold version of the truth.

"My fiancee left me at the altar. I'm going to Mongolia. I don't want his ticket, I don't want the hotel. Either take it or I'll give it to someone else. Or let it go to waste. I don't care. I don't want it. I'll even pay the name change charge." The anger in my voice came out clear, and by another miracle, she accepted it. We walked over to the help desk and I spoke with the dude behind the counter. He seemed hesitant at first, but he gave me a double take when he checked my reservations. With a brighter smile, he got me on the first flight he could to Mongolia.

"Will that be for both tickets Mrs.Wayne?" He asked cheerfully before reeling back, caught off guard by my watering eyes.

"Anderson. And no," I managed to spit out. I signaled for the girl from earlier to come closer. "I'm transferring the other ticket to her, we need to get the name changed." He looked uncertain but went ahead. If he was accommodating before, I could tell he was bending over backwards now to get everything situated. I could see his concentration as he tried to bypass things without having to question me again.

"Umm, your profile says you've actually been to Belgium before, how was it?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Beautiful and quaint. Great place to relax and enjoy nature if that's your thing. I'd recommend Lithuania too, or Leinchestein." I say, trying to keep a light tone. He nodded happily, seeming to take my recommendations seriously before handing the girl the new plane tickets. We thanked him and headed off on our respective paths, the girl taking a minute to hug me.

" I hope you can heal soon, and wish you a bright future" she whispered to me. I hugged back, trying not to cry again. She bought me a bag of peach gummy rings and left me at my terminal. I dropped some calls out to friends, blessed that they all decided to take one or more of the reservations around Europe I'd had. I kept the details to a minimum but they figured out pretty quickly not to mention me to Damian if they happened to see him. Some small part of me, thankfully more aware than the rest had the foresight to call some utility companies and get everything at my apartment working again.

The help desk attendant worked miracles, my nonstop flight boarded less than an hour later and I had managed to keep a first class seat. I sat down and started doodling nonsense in my journal, blasting music in my headphones. But around 6 hours into this 19-hour flight, exhaustion overcame me and I drifted off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Beloved," Damian sighed as he wrapped his arms around my waist. "It's almost 11, we need to get out of bed," he murmured into my hair.

"Nooooooo" I whined, stretching further into the sunlight. The doors were ajar, a nice breeze keeping us cool. I snuggled into him. "We're on a vacation, orders from Bruce. And on vacation, you can stay in bed all day."

"But there might be monsters nearby-" He said mysteriously, catching my attention.

"I didn't get reports of any- AH!" I scream as Damian proceeds to tickle me. "No! Sto-" I try to gasp out between laughing. I manage to fight him, tumbling out of bed. He laughed at me as I tried to untangle myself from the blankets.

"That's a dirty trick Wayne!" I gasp, trying to catch my breath. I grab a pillow and chuck it at him, but he just catches it and throws it back. We have a small impromptu pillow war before he taps out after a good hit knocks him onto the balcony. "BOW TO MY PROWESS!" I jokingly declare, jumping up and down on the ottoman. Damian runs over and sweeps me down.

"Please. Don't. Fall. And. Break. Your. Head" He accentuates every word with a kiss, making me giggle. He lets me go and takes the bathroom to shower first. I head out into the kitchen, humming to myself. I grab some of the fruit we bought yesterday and start making a fruit bowl. I'm halfway through cutting the Jicama when Damian's arms are around my waist again.

"What are you doing?" He asks, resting his chin on my shoulder. Before I could answer, his grip around me tightened. "Be careful!" He whispered harshly, putting his hands over mine. "Your knife skills could use some work, you could have cut your finger off like that!" He scolded me but I scoffed.

"Haven't lost a finger yet"

"No, but you did set your oven on fire. THREE TIMES" He elbowed my side and I pouted.

"Excuse you, that 2nd time wasn't my fault, remember? Dick broke into my place and fell asleep making fish sticks," I retaliated, squirming out of his grip and started making some sandwiches for lunch.

"I really should improve the security at your apartment," Damian says as he finished cutting up the Jicama and strawberries, plating them and dropping them off at the table.

"As if that would stop every vigilante from the northern hemisphere from breaking in," I snorted, bringing over the sandwiches. We ate in peace, letting the soft instrumental music from the radio fill the silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sigh happily, turning in my chair, reaching out for Damian's hand. The second I touched the cold seat next to me, my body freezes too. "Damian?" I muttered drowsily, sitting up straight. His bag isn't under his chair. Why am I wearing a dress? Why are my leggings rolled up? I start to panic, breathing rapidly and trying to blink away the tears in my eyes. It's enough to pull me awake and I remember what happened.

"Oh... oh" I hiccup and bite my lip, looking back out the window into the starry night. The tears start falling, but I'm being quiet so I let them. My skin itches. My neck, my wrists, under my eyes. I start scratching, trying to ignore my memories. The trip to Italy, our joint project to improve the villain resistance of the infrastructure of Gotham, the charity events we attended.

"Ma'am?" I look up, a stewardess in the aisle leaning over. I wipe my eyes, catching the furious red color my wrists had become, before turning to her. "Uh, you missed your meal earlier and I was wondering if there was anything I could get you?" She looked uncomfortable now, glancing between my red eyes, red nose, and now red wrists and presumably red neck. I glanced over the menu she handed me, ordering a full meal. She dropped the food off and scurried away, not meeting my eyes.

The meal was laid out beautifully; tomato soup, grilled cheese and grilled chicken with a slice of cheesecake. Yet, I couldn't seem to muster the strength to eat. It didn't really seem appetizing, and I wasn't hungry.

The last time you ate was over 10 HOURS ago, and that wasn't even a full meal. C'mon, one bite. I picked up the fork, but simply twirled it in my hand, watching the metal catch the light. You'll get a raging headache if you don't eat soon. Might get that deep vein thrombosis. I take a bite of the chicken, tasting nothing despite its obvious layer of seasoning. I swallowed it with half a glass of water. It felt thick, heavy, almost like swallowing a rock. But I had to eat. When I didn't immediately throw up, I set up my phone to play a cache of 65 action movies to distract myself and started eating bit by bit. I could tell I was drinking a ridiculous amount of water, but the stewardess replaced my glass without it ever going entirely empty so I didn't really notice how much I had downed. She cleared my tray when I was done, and I just kept watching movies. Whenever I thought I was going to fall asleep, I'd crank the volume up, scroll forward to fight scenes and take a drink of sprite. I was about 4 movies in when I threw off my headphones, whimpering with how severe my headache had gotten despite eating and drinking water.

"Good morning passengers, it is 10 pm and we're about to start our final descent so if you could all please put up your trays and turn off the wifi in your electronics, we'll be landing shortly." Not gonna lie, the time zone jump threw me for a minute, I had taken a second to figure out how we made the flight in 8 hours instead of 19. I shoved everything into my bag, forcing the zipper closed. I wanted to put on some rock or pop punk songs, “Battle On!” seeming weirdly appealing, even though I hadn't heard it in a while. I felt a vein in my neck twitch, so I settled on music from the swan lake instead.

The second we touched down I was up. I only had my backpack so I was able to squeeze by people, ignoring protests and complaints to get off the plane. Off the plane, past the luggage claim, I was going down the escalator when I spotted them. Advika was talking to Zay, looking mad as hell, but she noticed me first. She ran over and almost tackled me to hug me, Zay taking my bag. "Princessa, baby girl, I'm so sorry." She cries into my hair, "I didn't think he was an asshole, oh god, how could he do that to you!"

"We have the plane ready to go," Zay says, joining in on the hug. I let Advika cling to me as we make our way to the opposite side of the airport. Once we're in a more private area, Advika speaks up again.

"I'm going to kill him. How fucking dare he!" She squeezed my hand, and now started pulling me towards the airplane.

"Isn't that Rosella's line?" Zay prods before looking back at me. "But in all seriousness, we will absolutely end him, just say the word. Don't even say it, blink morse code, ASL, anything." I keep my mouth shut and let Advika continue to rave about the different ways she'll end Damian; financially, socially, whatever I wanted. We went out onto the runway and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"The company jet? Isn't that a bit much?" I say as Zay escorts us in, before heading to the back.

"The boss said it's okay. Nearly bit my head off when I called to ask but said it was ok. You did help establish our company in the foreign market," Advika takes a seat but gestures for me to lay down on the couch. "No offense mi princessa, but you look like a fucking mess. Please take a nap."

"I don't know if I can do that," I say, letting out a long sigh. Zay comes back, handing Advika a small purse and laying a platter of cheese and crackers on the table across from us. He sets up instrumental music, from “Carmen” if I'm not mistaken, as Advika takes my hat off and starts combing my hair. I lay back into her, letting her brush out my hair, counting her impeccable pattern. 2 squirts from a spray bottle to moisten my hair, 10 brush strokes. 2 then 10 then 2 then 10. My eyes started feeling heavy so I forced myself to take a deep breath and sit up. The motion made her accidentally yank my hair and woke me a bit. As she apologized I alternated my breathing patterns to try to stay awake, noticing for the first time that we were already in the air.

"Please, just go to sleep," Advika begged, grabbing my hands and forcing me to look at her. I stared at her for a moment before answering.

"I did... on the plane. I dreamed of him. The disorientation of waking up made me think I was on my way to my honeymoon," I let out a bitter laugh and she flinches, looking over to Zay, unsure what to say.

"You look pale," Zay interjects. He comes over to me, placing a hand on my head and then my neck. He doesn't comment on the marks, but he and Advika share a look. "Change your clothes, drink some water, then these, we don't want you getting sick." He puts 2 pills in my hands before going off to find me some water.

"Yeah, getting sick is the absolute worst thing that can happen to me right now. How silly of me," I roll my eyes and Advika snorts, trying to mask her laughter. I leave the Nyquil pills on the couch and get changed. I come back and take the pills, leaning into Advika again so she can continue to play with my hair. She spoke about anything and everything, filling the silence with her happy chatter. Undoubtedly, she was trying to distract my conscious so if I did dream again, it wouldn't be about him. It worked, her happy banter following me into my dreamless slumber.

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

I awoke to Zay gently shaking me, thankfully a lot less disoriented than last time. I gather up my things, helping myself to the bottles of water they had around. I ignore the bandages wrapped around my wrist, but the one on my throat was quickly starting to freak me out. Advika seemed to sense my discomfort, immediately coming over and cutting the bandages off.

"Sorry, your skin seemed a bit raw so we wrapped it up," she explains calmly, alternating to rubbing her hand up and down my arm to soothe me.

"S'ok," I mumble, taking my bag from Zay.

"We called you a cab -it got here a couple of minutes ago-, but you're more than welcome to stay with either of us back in Mongolia. Neha and Juniper also moved here ya know, I'm sure she'd-" I cut Zay off with a shake of my head, and follow him out of the plane.

"I just really want to be alone for a while, ya know?" As alone as I can be with my differing opinions yelling at me and my endless train of thought that does NOT SHUT UP. Zay nodded but Advika grabbed my arm before I could hail the cab closer to the plane.

"I know you want to be alone- and you absolutely do need some time alone, this is going to be a lot to process- but...." She hesitated, biting her lip. "I know how you can get Ro. don't even try to argue with me on this. Please, take some time, but do not hesitate to call me or anyone else." Would this be a bad time to throw up? That's one way to diverge the conversation. Advika held me but I wouldn't meet her eyes. "You know what? If you don't check in with me in a week I will track you down and drag you to live with me. I'm not joking. Do you understand" I want to protest, but then I remember she didn't even have my phone number. Game on. I agree and they both give me a hug before I board the cab.

"Good morning"

"Good morning, where should I take you?" ah. another thing that I hadn't thought of. Without even bothering to check my bag, I knew I didn't have my keys. But I knew someone who might. I give the cab driver an address and I pull out my phone. But I can't even ask because I don't remember her number. I sigh, hoping things hadn't changed as much as I thought.

We're in downtown Seoul before I can start properly stressing myself with the "what ifs". Had she moved? What if she didn't have the key? Would she yell at me for arriving at... Almost 3 am? I decided to do the math to distract myself, reworking the math on how a 4-hour flight turned into a 5-hour flight for a solid 10 minutes before I realized that I had not taken another time zone into play. Small miracles were on my side today. Yesterday? Tomorrow? Whatever the fuck day it is. Since it was so early, there wasn't much in the way of traffic, and the doorman was the same one that had been here when I lived her for however long it was. I explained to him that I was here to see Hong and after some reluctance, he let me in.

Up the elevator to the fifth door, doors opening to crisp air, reminiscent of fall. Exactly 30 steps forward to a door with 4 pastel sierra sunset decorations on the door. I knock, timidly at first as to not wake the neighbors. In 5 minutes, again, a little louder. I did this for an hour before I gave up and simply stood there with my head on the door.

"Hong. Hooooonnnngggggg" I whined quietly. Wow, thank goodness it's so early, everyone would think you're a creeper. lmaooo just imagine getting arrested your first day back. I whined into the door, contemplating just sleeping out here.

"Rosella?" a soft voice came from behind me. I turn to see Hong with Geo's arm around her. There were 2 more people behind her but I barely had the awareness to nod as a greeting. "What are you doing here? Wasn't yesterday your-" She stops, noticing that my lip had begun to tremble.

"Rosella-" she comes over and wraps her arms around me, hiding my face from view of the others. Someone unlocks the door and she drags me inside. The sequins on her dress start to itch, but I continue to hug her. Once I'm ready to let go, she sits me down and goes to change her outfit while Geo sits with me. in awkward silence for a while.

"Rose, what happened?" He eventually asks, sliding over a glass of ice water. "I thought your wedding was yesterday. Wasn't your honeymoon suppose to be in Europe?" I couldn't seem to muster the strength to answer, simply staring at him and sighing.

"You have no tact," Hong comments, combing back in her usual floral pjs. She flops down next to me, placing her hand on mine. "You don't have to tell us now, but I would like for you to tell us eventually." I can't help but smile, she always has a soothing air to her. It's impossible to be mad or upset near her. " I have some clothes you can borrow; I have friends over today so you'll have to take the couch, but you can have the guest room tomorrow." I shake my head, forcing myself to pull away from her motherly touch.

"I could never impose on you, I was just wondering if you have my spare key? I really want to go home." I let my voice crack at the end, hoping she wouldn't push for me to stay here. Geo looked at me like I was crazy, staring particularly long at my single backpack.

"Okay. Geo, could you get her key? It's in the top dresser with a purple tip," Hong nods to him and he leaves. " I do feel the need to remind you that you pretty much purged the place when you left. I don't remember the last time I visited either, so its probably super dusty too."

"I'll make do for tonight. I'll go to the store tomorrow for food and cleaning supplies, ok?"

"You'd better, you forgetful dip stick," Geo grunts as he hands me the key. "Actually, we could probably find somewhere open rn. We could swing by and-"

"I was actually going to walk home it's a nice night and-"

"Absolutely not." Hong interrupted me, sounding her top tier forceful. "I know you've been through some shit in the last 48 hours but I'm not going to let you commit suicide by stupidity!" I took a minute to process this, for a second I thought I was back in Gotham.

"It's not far... I only have my backpack and the crime rates here aren't even that high Hong. You know I took mi-"

"Yes yes, I know about your MMA history, but I draw the line. I don't know how much the others have let you get away with but you are not walking alone at night!" I don't fight her, letting her drag me to her car, Geo driving. We're at my complex within minutes.

"Take care of yourself Rosie." Hong says, giving me a half hug through the car window, Geo simply putting a hand on my head. "I'll come to check up on you- and if you don't answer the door I'll call the cops" she threatened before letting go.

"Thank you, seriously, this is so great that you had my key, and for dropping me off." I hesitate before heading up. "If you don't mind me asking, how long have you two been dating?" Geo's blush was extremely visible against his skin, even in the shadows.

"It's that obvious huh? We've been together for about 5 months," Hong replied, blushing as well.

"I always thought you two would look cute together," I said, this time with a genuine smile. I wave them off and opt to take the stairs up. I opened the door to my apartment.

It's freezing, dust dancing in the waning moonlight. I set my bag down, pulling out another change of clothing from what I had bought at the airport. I threw it into the bathroom before heading over to my emergency closet. Never though the emergency stash would be used like this. Maybe we shouldn't use it? Earth shattering heartbreak is too an emergency, fuck off. I'll restock it anyways. I pull out some towels and bath supplies. I get in the shower, letting the steaming hot water run over me.

Since when have I not been able to feel my fingers? I ask myself, flexing them one by one. It's like the stakeout in Boston that one winter, Dick brought us hot chocolate-

No. Don't even. Dust! This place is messy and I want to properly disinfect it- unconsciously increasing the pressure with my loofah- I'll need Lysol, tide pods, scrubs, dish rags. Probably should buy more plates too. Damian always had a peculiar adoration for matching cutlery sets, when he bought me some ramen bowls-

OW OW OW OW OW OW OW! I jerk up, my hand immediately going to my upper spine. I breathe in too quickly, taking in some water. I pull open the curtain and lean over the tub, cough and sputtering, trying to catch my breath.

"What- the- fuck-" I manage to gasp out. I was sitting down in the tub, I guess I had fallen asleep???? I shake the drowsiness off, turning off the water and getting out. Despite, or maybe because of, my broken sleep this last day I was still exhausted once I had gotten changed and my heartbeat had slowed down. I looked to my room door, but collapsed on the sofa, letting the musty leather suffocate me to sleep as my bones sunk into the couch.

Chapter 3: Safehouse

I awoke the same way I fell asleep.

Suffocating.

I wanted to get up, find a tissue to blow my nose, but every muscle in me ached a million ways. Did I fall off the empire state building while I was asleep? Did some cannibal beat me with a meat tenderizer for hours and just leave me on this couch? Holy FUCK.

Even twisting my face away from the couch so I could get some fresh air strained my neck. Every joint felt dislocated, limbs lifeless like a broken marionette. The dust. Allergies. I can't breathe...

Can't breathe

Suffocating! DIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIE- I panic, throwing myself off the couch. Landing on the ground actually didn't cause any more pain. I laid there for a minute, mentally trying to put my joints back in their sockets. It isn't a large enough distraction, and I'm soon hyper-aware of everything. My skin was burning where the sunlight touched, the dust in the air was so heavy I could have sworn I lost my vision again. I could hear the meaningless hustle of cars and people outside on the sidewalk, but worst of all was my pounding heartbeat in my ears.

THUMP-THUMP THUMP-THUMP THUMP-THUMP

I forced myself to get up, groaning as all my muscles pinched as they got back into place. I made a lot of unnecessary noise as I cleaned up my mess from last night. Throwing the shower caddy under the sink, flipping my backpack and letting everything fall out, slamming my dirty clothes into a pile in a corner. And I couldn't help but look around every couple of minutes, not entirely understanding where I was. Trying and failing to compensate for the noises that usually find me when I wake up. When I threw open the balcony windows, I realized I was still waiting to hear another window slide open and a soft "I'm home", even though it was well past noon.

How wild would it be if he actually went on parole after all that? Would a fight have broken out? Would it have been like the whole Owls mishap again?

Get your head out of your ass, they're his family; blood is thicker than water.

Blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.

He's been helping and fighting alongside them much longer than you have you dip. I storm into the kitchen, only grunting as I smash my hip against the counter. I set out 4 pages of stationary in front of me and made lists; food, clothes, furniture, extra. I took my papers and started walking around, jotting notes of what I needed. Talking to fill the void.

"More toilet paper, hand soap, towels," I hum under my breath, not really checking the cabinets. "As for clothes I should-" my voice caught when I walked into the bedroom. It was freezing. I reflexively bit my lip, eyes watering. Instead of goosebumps, this cold sat in my stomach. The same cold in my hands, from the airplane seat, returned- lacing up my arms, down my stomach and legs. Stabbing my heart and restricting my lungs.

I'm alone.

"I should buy like 4 interchangeable outfits," the whimper barely sounded through the silent tears. I shut the door tight, almost running back to the living room. I sat just outside the ring of light, hunching over my paper. "Jeans, underwear, toothpasTE-" I sniffled but my vision only got blurrier.

"BoOKcASes, a bEd, mayBE a BeAr," my heart squeezed every time my voice broke, and in seconds I couldn't write on the soaked paper. The hiccups were my only air, snot streaking my trembling chin.

"What did I do? What. diD. I DOOO?" I sobbed, wailing into my hands. I curled around a leg of the coffee table, letting its corners cut into my stomach. Wailing until I was dry heaving, scratching my eyes to get rid of these acidic tears, blowing my nose with my shirt- moist blotches sticking to my skin. "Day- Damian" I cried to myself until I passed out again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Afternoons spent silently reading with each other

Matching outfits for galas, some he designed himself, just for me

Our home downtown- bought to have some peace and quiet from his family. Although half the time they broke in, the other half we ended up back in the manor.

Traveling for work, for fun, for missions he didn't think were dangerous.

Sparring with Jason and Cass.

Jason showing me a hundred new bands when I got him into new music genres, trying to help each other find less aggressive ways to vent. Giving him the cream to completely erase the J from his cheek was different, the first time I saw him cry. He understood that blood family wasn't always loyal, and that I didn't mean it when I'd punch or insult someone to hide softer feelings.

Cass just vibing, understanding me and letting me get close. She was always the first to come help me when I was hurt, I became the person she could cry to. The way her face lit up when we were just able to chill a whole night, singing, watching movies and simply understanding each other on a fundamental level.

Barbra growing aggravated as she tried to teach me how to do more with technology than just googling things. Her forgiving my stupidity after I built her a new computer.

The long talks I had with Dick. Anything and everything. The first time hurt, when I called him out. He was giddy and chipper, dramatic as ever but when he caught me staring and stopped for long enough to look back, the pain in his eyes was clear as day. He had just broken up with Kory after all. He didn't need to lie, he didn't need to lighten the mood, he just needed to be honest. But once he could smile honestly again, I couldn't help but remember that he was the one who found out about me and Damian first. He'd been there to spy on our first date, hiding it from Bruce. He was the first to take me out for ice cream then subtly threaten my life if I harmed Damian, the first to swing by for spontaneous days out. To get to know me, to see if I was right for Damian.

Stephanie, Tim and I bonding over teasing and pranking Damian.

Tim and I being forced into caffeine and sleep interventions. Coffee and Coke. And then the beautiful irony of us falling asleep halfway through, especially after I taught him how to sleep with his eyes open.

Cooking with Alfred, learning his famous cookie recipes. Showing him more authentic Hispanic recipes, and him comforting me and being the first to compliment me after I was duped into cooking for the ENTIRE family.

Philosophical and political discussions with Bruce. Talks about war and power, cultural similarities and their origins. Talks about Damian as a child to mess with him. Opening up about paranoia, fear of losing loved ones, the controversies of being "too much" for some people. He understood, sometimes the ultimate sacrifices had to be made in a second. He understood because he was the same. We'd give up our lives before anyone else.

It's all gone.

So much of my past, and now, my whole future.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it's cold. i stripped off my shirt and blew my nose.

blood. eww, it's hot. i hold my shirt to my nose, crawling under the table, balling up until i could feel all 4 legs pressing into me.

tuneless humming, watching the room light up until my eyes burn.

I have to pee.

I wash my hands, the water making me aware of my bone dry mouth. My tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. I let the water pour through my fingers for another minute before walking away, laying back under the coffee table.

long grains. shades of brown. like dead grass. my fingers run over the million tiny bumps watching the wood fade from a blurry brown to a million tiny wooden grains.

My hair is on fire. The sun reaches it from under the table.

There are people in the hallway. They're as loud as the cars outside.

the ac is running. i start humming to drown it out.

i'm melting. i force my eyes to blink but they continue to burn.

I can't breathe. I stagger to the bathroom and after a few minutes of moving my jaw up and down, my mouth manages to open. I swig some water before throwing some on my face. fever? headache at least. I grab a towel to wipe my face, fumbling back into the hall. fuck was i looking directly at the sun? there is only one place colder than the sun. i walk to my bedroom, the cold imperceptible to me now.

but the second i put my eyes directly onto the empty bed frame, i could almost hear them sizzle. it exhausted me. I hadn't realized how hot my face was until i laid it on the floor. like a refreshing bath, calming. i just focused on my heat being transferred to the floor, unaware that I was falling asleep again.

((The writing for the last chapter is intentionally like that, I was attempting to write Rose being in a type of disassociated kind of state; where you aren't aware of time passing, noting seems real, even things in your immediate vicinity. Knowing that you should be doing something, drinking water, changing clothes, listening to music, ANYTHING-but still not doing it. The capitalization/simple sentences and repetition on the latter part was intentional. ))

#I dont know #i guess i wanted to see how/if my writing's changed #YES THIS IS WHERE I GOT THE THING FOR DIAVOLO'S DADS LETTER I REALLY LIKED IT SO I REUSED IT #I couldnt come up with a nice transitory chapter about Rose's friends coming to check on her/ reminding her that she's her own person/#coming back to gotham #BUT THEY DEF DONT GET BACK TOGETHER #not obey me!#NOT OBEY ME #Not OM!#Ozera nonsense

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tchalla-rogers · 5 years

Text

blown a fuse

December 4th: Outdoor Lights (Steve Rogers x Stark! Reader)

Christmas OTP Challenge for @thefanficfaerie

Captain America: Civil War

“This isn’t the real fight, Steve,” Sam declared through the comms.

“Alright, Y/N, what’s the play?”

“We need a diversion, something big!” you blurted.

“I got something kind of big, but I can’t hold it for very long. On my signal, run like hell. And if I tear myself in half…don’t come back for me.” You rolled your eyes, chuckling. You didn’t take this dude seriously, only believing he could minimize his size. Not believing him at all, you continued to fight against Peter and decided to ignore his “signal”.

“Holy shit!” Peter screeched, stepping back. You looked behind your shoulder and saw Ant-Man was no longer…ant size. His gigantic foot came stumbling and almost knocked you but your dad grabbed you to leap you both out of the way. You stood back up and silently thanked him with your eyes as he flew off to fight Sam.

You cried out, “Alright guys, I guess that was the signal!” and you sprinted to catch up with Steve and Bucky running towards the tower. Steve reached for your hand and you quickly grasped it, sending him a smile. You guys would’ve made it if it weren’t for Vision, once again, using his annoying beam of energy to send the control tower collapsing. A strong, controlled gust of wind targeted the tower, thanks to your doing, and kept the tower from fully collapsing. You clutched your head and screamed as soon as War Machine fired a sonic disruptor. The tower came tumbling to the ground around you three and Steve grabbed you. Thankfully, you all made it but you were stopped by Natasha.

“You’re not gonna stop,” Natasha grunted, not even in the form of a question.

“You know I can’t,” croaked Steve as he held you as you were still tightly clutching your head.

“I’m gonna regret this.” In that instant, you thought that you would’ve had to break back into a fight but you saw Natasha stun T’Challa who crept his way through the rubble. Ok, back to liking Natasha. “Go.”

You guys made it to the Quinjet as you halted. “What? Y/N, what?!” Steve shouted, running back to you frozen in place.

Shaking your head, you muttered, “I shouldn’t go on that jet with you guys just yet. I’ll continue to fend them off. In order for us to win, some of us have to lose.”

Steve ran his hands through his hair in a frustrated fashion. You’d regret this but you’d also regret continuing to break your father’s heart, even if it was already pretty damaged. Steve caressed your cheek as if there wasn’t a battlefield right outside and time was running low. He pulled you in for a kiss and you wrapped your hands behind his neck. It felt like an eternity but you know it was only a few seconds before you pulled away. You smirked and ordered, “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”

Steve softly smiled, running onto the Quinjet as you sprinted back outside, climbing over the rubble from the tower.

You looked up as the jet ascended into the air and noticed Rhodey and your father chasing after Steve and Bucky. “Alright, let’s go, Falcon!”

“Uh, no! You are just fine right on the gr-.” His words quickly halted as he felt you latch onto his back wings and he was already going full speed to chase after the other two and to protect Steve and Bucky. Sam continued in pursuit, with you pondering how to stop your dad from catching up to the jet. You began to control the creation of hail as the larger ones hammered down on Rhodey and the smaller ones came down on your father, just to piss Rhodey off. Too busy concentrating, you didn’t notice Sam look down and witness Vision fire a laser at you both. Sam was too late at trying to lower you from the laser and it sliced your back. You yelped in shock and winds came roaring, knocking Sam off course. Instantly, you have dropped hundreds, no, thousands of feet in the sky.

“Steve! Steve! She was hit!” Sam worriedly howled into his comm device.

“Sam, Wanda, you have to get her!” Steve yelped in fear. “Wanda!” You couldn’t hear them due to the strong wind whipping in your ears, causing your comm to fly out. Wanda couldn’t hear them either, though. Her comm was gone and Vision was too busy cradling her unconscious body, fear ripping through him as he missed his intended target. The use of wind could’ve come in handy but you were slowly passing out due to the drop and your vision slowly began to blur...

***

Tony was thankful that you had backed down, rather going into hiding with Steve and those who fought with him. He didn’t know how his nerves weren’t shot after you made it clear that you were against the Sokovia Accords, fought against his beliefs for Steve, and then plummeted to the ground in a matter of seconds.

He had been practically babying you ever since, especially when you were in the hospital for a little less than a year. It made you feel claustrophobic, continuously having your father’s eyes on you, but most of the time you ignored it. And when you were released from the hospital, it had been Protective Tony galore.

You were completely aware that Steve had to go into hiding after going way beyond neglecting the Sokovia Accords. Tony made sure to clear your name, even though you weren’t fighting on his side. You can easily tell how visibly disappointed he still is after you took Steve’s side over your own blood. And once it occurred to you that you had no idea when Steve would appear in your life again, a feeling of dread and emptiness soon overcame. There was nothing Tony could do to help, no matter how many times he attempted to reassure you. He knew you were incredibly smart and could potentially find Steve’s address or phone number, but to no avail; nothing came up.

New York’s weather was slowly becoming frigid and it failed to numb the thoughts of Steve’s absence. Tony pushed you to leave the cabin, go shopping with him and go to lunch so that he could see some joy sparkle in your eyes again. And as much as Tony might have seemed controlling to other people, you appreciated his fatherly concerns. You knew that it just meant that he loved you, even after your slight betrayal. Deep inside, regret coursed through your veins knowing that you could have lost your relationship with your father.

There was one night in particular when you heard rustling outside of your door after a deep slumber, but deep down you knew that it wasn’t Tony. He valued his sleep more than anyone and he clearly left those sleepless nights behind once you were healed.

Your ears perked up as there was more shuffling right outside, but you instantly knew to grab for the gun in your top drawer. You attempted to be as quiet as possible, slipping out of your bed and silently sliding your top drawer open. “Shit…” you whispered, gripping it tightly. You hadn’t used a gun ever since before that day, but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t use it for intimidation.

Taking silent steps as your bare feet touched the wooden floor, you sighed once more. There was no way that you could stop the shaking in your hands, but you slowly reached for the door. After assembling a proper grip on your gun, you opened the door in a haste.

You peered out to the left of the hallway and noticed that no one was in sight. Carefully, your head shifted to the right of the hallway and a yelp quickly left your lips.

***

Tony jumped out of bed once he heard your scream from the hallway and frantically asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. what was happening. “Y/N has spotted a guest in the hallway, sir.” Tony scrambled to his feet and flung the door open, not caring to find a weapon in the haste to your door. His pajamas held tightly to his skin as he continued to sweat and he was frantically panting, but he stopped right before the hallway where you were. He cursed under his breath when he realized that he could’ve grabbed his repulsors and now here he was just knowing that he had to get to you.

As he looked down the hallway, he noticed how significantly brighter it was than how he remembered. Especially in the night time, Tony would ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. to dim the hallway lights in the lakeside cabin. Tony inhaled as his feet softly padded on the ground and he rounded the corner of your hallway.

His eyes fell on you, tightly wrapped in Steve’s arms and Christmas lights illuminating the hallway. “Seriously, are you paying for the electricity bill?” Tony deadpanned as the two of you broke apart quickly. You gently rolled your eyes, but the happiness of the situation was still evident in your facial features. No matter how much Tony wanted to lie and say that he didn’t want Steve in the lakeside cabin, he just couldn’t do it.

At first, Tony was devastated that Steve didn’t tell you where he was, but then he grew furious. He knew how much you loved Steve and Steve couldn’t just tell you where he was staying at? Then a few months passed and Tony became more understanding; this was a dangerous game they were playing in the Avengers. Steve had to do what he needed to in order to protect you, The Avengers, and himself.

“Hey, Tony,” Steve beamed.

“I’m serious, are you going to pay for the electricity bill? That’s a lot of lights.” Tony grinned, albeit squinting due to the brightness. With a clear vision, he noticed something visibly different about Captain America. “You grew out your hair? And...is that a beard?” Steve lightly brushed his beard with his fingers, nodding slightly. “Looks terrible.”

“Dad.” Tony smiled, walking towards Steve and pulling him in for a quick hug. He knew that this encounter would be enough for you, always wanting to see them both together. Once they pulled apart, Tony saw the radiant smile tugging at your lips and felt a strong warmth in his heart. “Finally.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony nodded. He knew that Steve would have to go some time, but he was thankful to see the radiance in your eyes knowing that Steve was still alive. “Matter of fact...I have been dreading putting up Christmas lights outside by myself-.”

“Oh my God, Dad...he just got here and you’re asking for help?” you joked.

“I’ll help,” Steve stated, grinning at your father.

Tony patted him on the shoulder gratefully and then turned back around to walk down the hallway. “And you can take down those lights, we’re not running up the bill because you’re trying to impress Y/N.”

“You’re a billionaire,” you jokingly mumbled as Tony continued to walk down the hallway.

***

Pepper and you hung up the decorations inside the lakeside cabin as Christmas music blasted through the speakers. It definitely was overwhelming to have Steve here for a few weeks, but Tony had noticed a visible shift in your energy. And in all honesty, he was dreading hanging up lights outside with Steve. He knew he’d be shivering while Steve would be unbothered with his 100-year-old body saved by serum.

And as much as he wanted to postpone, he woke up to you and Pepper already decorating for the holidays. Thankfully, the time had passed by quickly, although with a lot of struggle on his part. Steve effortlessly strung lights up on the house, but Tony was out of breath and decided not to climb the ladder anymore.

He heard the front door open, seeing you walk out of the house and pull your jacket closer to your body to stay warm. “Should’ve known you were lazy.”

Tony scoffed, “Not all of us can have serum pumping through our veins.”

“The only thing you have pumping through your veins is the syrup and wine from this morning.”

A boisterous laugh left Steve’s mouth from atop the house, stringing up the last of the lights. You smiled up at him as night had already begun to fall after Pepper and you finished the inside decorations. You could hear less stomping on top of the house from Tony and Steve and knew that was your indication to walk outside.

Tony rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air. “I will not take this slander anymore.”

“Tony, you slander everyone,” Pepper joked as she walked out of the house. Tony incoherently mumbled, but Pepper shut him up with a quick kiss on his lips.

Steve finished and walked down the ladder slowly, walking over to you. “Time to light it up.”

“I’ll do the honors,” Tony stated, but he saw Pepper and you raise your eyebrows knowing that he barely helped with the lights. “Nevermind...Capsicle, this is your time.”

“No, it’s fine,” Steve smiled and reassured him that he could do it, he was the guest after all. “If you don’t want to blow a fuse, I wou-.”

Tony mocked Steve and you stared blankly at him, but he coughed to cover it up. He grabbed the plug and ignored Steve’s suggestion, plugging in the lights in order to illuminate their lakeside cabin. When the house finally lit up, no one could keep a smile off of their faces. Tony held onto Pepper, kissing her on the forehead, as you and Steve did the same. It only stopped when the lights shut off quickly and all of the lights inside followed. “Did what I think just happen...just happen?” you quietly asked, voice squeaking from knowing that Tony had just blown a fuse.

***

a/n: this is so bad and i’m sorry. i had so many ideas coming through my mind, and i kinda jumbled them all together. also the beginning is from let it rain, so if you think you remember it from somewhere...it’s from that :) this is also not proofread. i am trash.

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justheretobreakthings · 5 years

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Kings Over Aces - Chapter 5

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Word Count: 4,442 (Total Word Count: 19,551) Read on AO3

Story Summary:

The Voltron Coalition has an alliance in the works with the resource-rich planet of Yuipra, and it’s the paladins’ job to keep on the king’s good side while the deal is made. That shouldn’t shouldn’t be too great a challenge; after all, they’ve courted plenty of planets before for the sake of alliances.

Unfortunately, things are made much more complicated when the king takes a special interest in Keith.

Chapter content warning for non-consensual touching and attempted rape.

For the first few moments after Olren straightened up from the ground, told the guards holding Keith to “prepare” him, and turned to sweep out of the garden, the guards hauling Keith to his feet to follow, he was numb. His head was spinning with too many thoughts, too much terror, to properly grasp onto any single thread, and the world around him seemed distant, unreal. The only thing coming more into focus was the sounds in his earpiece, the voices of his teammates that sounded almost as horrified as he felt. They all ran together in his ear, and he couldn’t distinguish one speaker from the other.

“Keith, Keith it’s okay, it’s going to be okay - ”

“Shiro, get in Red with me, it’s faster!”

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy - ”

“We’re on our way, just hold on!”

As he was led out of the garden and into the courtyard, Keith stumbled over his feet, nearly falling to the ground in his daze if weren’t for the guards on either side of him yanking him back upright and the one behind him giving him a rough shove and grunting, “Move.”

Somehow, that seemed to bring him back into focus, into full awareness of what was happening, what was about to happen. And he couldn’t let it. He just couldn’t. His team had been giving him reassurances, it seemed like they were on their way, but they’d have to make the trip down here and get into the palace and through the guards… by the time they reached him, he might be - Olren might already have -

He couldn’t wait for them. He had to get out of there now.

He let out a sudden yell, swinging his legs forward and bringing the heels back with all the strength he had in him. And either the blow was strong enough or he had sufficiently managed to take the guards by surprise, because their holds loosened. Not enough to drop him yet, but enough for him to yank his arms out of their grasp as he propelled himself off the guard behind him and leaped forward, sprawling across the stonework of the courtyard.

Panting, he scrambled to his feet, diving out of the way just in time before one of the guards snatched his ankle and running toward the opposite entryway. Olren had already gone in ahead of them, so it was a risk going back into the palace, but it was certainly better than going back into the guards’ hands, and he knew the way back to the main entry. If he was just fast enough, if he could just dodge anyone who tried to make a grab for him, he could make it.

On leaden legs he flew into the oncoming corridor, the clanking of the guards’ armor close behind him, shouting something, probably ordering him to stop, but it was drowned out both by the pounding of adrenaline, and Coran and Allura in his ear frantically assuring him that the others were on their way.

Keith kept his pace up until the next corner, where he was brought to a sudden and unceremonious halt when a quarterstaff came swinging into his gut. With a choked grunt, he doubled over, eyes watering at the form of yet another guard standing before him. This one must have been patrolling the halls, must have heard the commotion. Keith tried to lurch around him, but the guard was fast, already delivering another blow, this time into his chest, sending Keith stumbling backward and right into the metal armor of the guards who’d been pursuing him.

“Keith, are you all right?!” Allura cried.

He tried to think of a way to reassure her that he was - sure, he could feel some fantastic bruises blossoming across his throbbing torso, but that was nowhere near as bad as what the king had in store - but he didn’t have time to, what with the guards lifting him off his feet from under his arms, roughly turning him back around. He struggled in their hold, legs flailing, but the guards were better at bracing themselves for it this time after his last near escape.

“Let go of me!” Keith shouted, fruitlessly trying to pull away. “Let me go!”

“You’re only making things difficult for yourself, paladin,” one of the guards said. “First disrespecting our king, now insisting on fighting us…”

Coran let out a sound of indignation. “He deserves to be disrespected, you quiznakking son of a - ”

Keith jerked in the guards’ hold again, and one of them responded by shoving Keith against the nearest wall with a grunt. Keith growled, trying and failing to pull himself away from the wall, and aimed to bite at the gloved hand holding his shoulder in place.

A guard took a fistful of his hair and slammed his head sideways into the wall, and Keith let out a cry as his ear hit brick and his earpiece suddenly blared a high-pitched whine, like microphone feedback right up against his eardrum. Another slam, and with a pop, the earpiece went dead, the panic-stricken voices of the Alteans suddenly replaced with a terrifying silence.

His vision swam as he was pulled away from the wall, and he could feel the warm sensation of blood starting to trickle down from where his head had been hit. The guards tightened their grip as they started moving him down the hall again, lifting him between two of them so that his toes barely grazed the floor. Keith continued to struggle, but now more as a show than an actual effort to break free; it didn’t look as though it would do him any good to keep trying, but he had to keep up the pretense, had to still seem like he was fighting back.

Even if that fire was burnt out, smothered by the silence in his head where the voices of his teammates were supposed to be and by the indignity of everything he’d been through that evening and that still was yet to come.

The throbbing from his head injury made it difficult to concentrate on the world around him as he was dragged through corridors and stairwells, and the end came abruptly when they reached the polished door of the king’s bedchamber. Yet another guard stood at attention outside it, and the guard behind Keith muttered something to him as they entered. The former nodded and started down the hall and out of Keith’s view as he was carted toward the bed.

The bed itself was fairly large, the equivalent of a king-sized mattress back on Earth - fittingly, considering its occupant here - with a high canopy and wrought metal frame that spiraled into intricate patterns where the headboard would typically be. The duvet on top was textured like silk, Keith discovered as two of the guards slammed him onto the bed on his back, holding his arms in place even as he kicked out and arched his back. His head, after one of the guards slammed it back into the metal frame with a grunted order to stop kicking, sank easily into the plump, soft pillow.

Under any other circumstances, this bed would have been the coziest thing Keith had ever slept on. Now, the idea of feeling even the slightest hint of comfort in this plushiness was a sickening thought.

Only moments after he’d been pressed onto the bed, the guard who’d been outside the door returned, something dangling between his hands. He passed the object to one of the other guards, and Keith got a glimpse of it - a set of manacles, gold like so much else in this godforsaken palace, with thick cuffs and a short but sturdy length of chain between them - before it was being snapped onto his wrist. The guard threaded the chain through one of the iron spirals on the headboard, grabbed Keith’s free arm in a bone-crushing grasp when the latter attempted to throw a punch, and locked the other cuff into place.

Keith pulled away, tried to tug at the chain, but there was no give in it at all. “You needn’t bother,” one of the guards said. “Those things never break.”

Never…

A sinking feeling flooded the pit of his stomach. The guards had used these manacles before. They needed no further instruction when Olren told them to prepare him. The king had spoken of how this was necessary for a “true” alliance, had taken for granted that it was coming.

He had done this before. He had been prepared, tonight, for the possibility of doing it again. For all Keith knew, he was the latest in a line of victims that could have started back when Olren first took the throne.

Could they have known this, going in? Could they have found out what Olren was truly like, talked with other planets and organizations that Yuipra was allied with and realized how “alliances” were made here? If they had done that, if they hadn’t just gone on the blind faith that Yuipra was still the same upstanding planet that it was thousands of years ago, they could have done something. They could have stopped this.

Now, it was too late.

Despite the obvious inefficacy of the action, Keith kept yanking at the cuffs, pulling himself as far forward as he could go, no doubt leaving a mess of bruises on his wrists as he did. Maybe, he reasoned, if he just dislocated the thumb, tore some of the skin, he’d be able to get one of them off. After that, he could perhaps use the chain as a weapon, fight the guards off before making a break for it.

He had made no progress, though, by the time the guards held down his ankles and pulled his shoes from his feet. They were the flimsy dress shoes Coran had given him to go with his outfit rather than his trusty boots, so they slipped off with ease. He didn’t think too much of it, until the cold hands of one of the guards moved higher, trailing along his legs and under the hem of the tunic, grabbing his waistband.

Immediately he let out a cry, flailing in the guards’ grasps as hard as he could. He managed to free one leg, and with his heel caught one of them in the chin. It was a victory, if a small one, but it didn’t last long, as two of the guards grabbed the offending leg with both hands. “We told you,” one growled. “To stop kicking.”

There was a snap, and Keith had to bite his lip to keep them from getting the satisfaction of hearing him keen in pain as they dropped his now-broken ankle back onto the bed. Their hands moved back up once more, but were interrupted again, this time by the opening of a door off to the side.

“You are dismissed,” Olren’s voice said. “I can take it from here.”

As one the guards released their hold on him and moved away, beating a retreat out the way they came, and Keith turned to see the king approaching. Apparently the reason he’d gone ahead was to give himself time to remove his many gaudy accessories. This was Keith’s first time seeing him without his crown, or the jewels he wore around his neck and wrists. The layers of robes and capes were gone too, replaced by a simple dressing gown. In contrast to his usual appearance, he seemed positively gaunt now, the eerie elongation of his limbs more starkly pronounced.

His sinister smile, though, was just the same as ever as he swept toward the bed and grinned down at Keith. “Hello, paladin Keith,” he said. “I trust you’ve made yourself comfortable?”

“You’re a fucking monster,” Keith snarled in reply.

Olren just scoffed as he sat down on the bed. “I’d have to disagree with you there. All this evening, I have been nothing but good to you. I’ve been honest and open, I’ve lavished you in affection and offered you the wealth of my kingdom. You, on the other hand, have been duplicitous, manipulative, and above all, cowardly. Which one of us is the monster, Keith?”

With an exasperated-sounding sigh, he rolled further onto the bed, and pressed his hands onto Keith chest as he straddled him, one knee outside either hip, and leaned in toward his face. “You’re lucky, you know, that I’m so good at taming monsters.”

Keith growled wordlessly and lurched again, trying to arch himself up and kick out with his good leg, but Olren simply laughed. “Now, now, don’t get ahead of me, Keith. Though your enthusiasm is admirable, I prefer to work up to the action. Admire the toy before I play with it.” His hands trailed up, fingers coming to rest at Keith’s collar. Keith froze, and for a moment, he was certain that Olren had spotted the tiny microphone mounted against the stitched pattern. But instead, Olren reached for the button at the side, over the shoulder, and began unzipping the garment. Keith wasn’t sure which was worse.

Once the top was fully unzipped, Olren yanked at the material, tearing the sleek fabric along the seams of the sleeves and tossing it aside, leaving Keith’s chest bare. It rose and fell along with Keith’s trembling breaths, and he shuddered as a cold finger trailed up the breastbone. “Beautiful,” Olren said. “Strapping. All that hard work as a paladin, it keeps you fit, doesn’t it.”

“Fuck you,” Keith snapped.

“You can,” Olren said. “Soon. First, if you don’t mind…” His fingers brushed across Keith’s chest. “It’s like untrodden snow, isn’t it? So tempting, to leave a mark.”

Keith closed his eyes and held back a whimper as Olren leaned down, pressing his lips to his sternum. The king trailed slimy kisses up his torso, each one feeling like acid on his skin, until he reached the collarbone. At the sharp sting there, Keith gasped and opened his eyes, moving his gaze down in horror. “Did you - did you just bite me?!” he cried.

Olren smiled up at him, and Keith could see red dotted on the tips of a few of his pointed teeth. “I did say earlier that you were delectable. And now I know for certain. Just couldn’t resist.”

He trailed further upward, leaving the spoor of his lips in a path climbing up Keith’s neck a toward his jaw, before digging his hands into the latter’s hair and lifting his head toward him so their eyes were barely an inch apart. “You are irresistible, Keith,” he whispered. “But ever the tease. It’s almost tragic, the way you try to refuse me.” He brushed a finger over Keith’s lips. “In the end, though, I must admit, it only makes you that much more alluring.”

After one more of his sickening smiles, he pulled Keith in, inhaling him into another of those abhorrent kisses. Keith’s face and throat burned as that dreaded tongue snaked its way in again, and when trying to pull back proved useless, he decided if Olren could bite, so could he. He snapped his teeth down onto the tongue as hard as he could.

Olren reeled back with a satisfying yelp, dropping Keith back onto the pillow to bring his hands to his mouth, and when he lowered them, blank-faced, Keith was rewarded by a glimpse of dark green blood smeared across his top finger. He only had a tick to enjoy that moment of triumph, though, as before he even had time to see it coming, Olren delivered a sharp backhand slap to his face, snapping his head to the side and leaving his jaw throbbing.

“Even now,” Olren said, his voice low and cold. “You still insist on putting up a fight.” Slowly, he lifted his hand to wrap the icy fingers around Keith’s throat, and as he brought his face forward, he squeezed, not enough to cut off Keith’s airflow entirely, but enough to prove that he could. “Why do you do this to me, Keith?” he asked as he moved his knee so that it was digging into Keith’s gut. “Why are you so determined to treat me with such contempt? I am taking only what I deserve.” The hand that wasn’t gripping Keith by the neck took his shoulder, and the nails dug into his skin before Olren slowly moved the hand downward, tearing a trail of claw marks in its wake. “To so many, this time with me is an honor, a gift. But you see it as a punishment. Well, it cannot be said of me that I am an unreasonable man. So for your sake - ” He dropped Keith’s neck and moved both hands to the latter’s hips. “ - I’ll get this over with.”

In a single swift motion he flipped Keith over onto his stomach, and his wrists strained against their cuffs as the chain links twisted as far as they could, his arms taut and contorted above his head. Keith couldn’t hold back a yelp in response to the jostling of his injured torso, which, to his fury, elicited another light laugh from Olren. He squirmed as he felt hot breath against the back of his neck, the king’s fingers moving his hair out of the way with delicate motions.

“I know this is your first time,” Olren whispered. “So I’ll be careful about breaking you in. Make it gradual.” He nibbled at Keith’s earlobe, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to still make Keith retch as the king moved down to kiss his neck.

“Please,” Keith said, and he hated that he was begging, hated that Olren got the pleasure of hearing him break, but nothing else had been working, not the insults or the struggling, and this was the only option that remained, the only chance he had left of getting out of this, however slim that chance may be. “Please, don’t do this…”

“Paladin Keith, you’re crying,” Olren said softly, and he was right. Keith hadn’t even noticed that it had started, but as he blinked against the sting in his eyes, he felt the sticky trails of tear tracks down his cheeks. Olren reached a finger around to Keith’s face and wiped a tear away, then licked the fingertip. “You know - ” He tugged Keith’s head back by the hair, wrenching it around so it was partially facing him. “Your eyes are even prettier this way. It’s remarkable.”

“Please,” Keith repeated, his voice cracking on the word. “You can’t - you know this is wrong. You can’t do - ”

Olren tutted. “Don’t aim to tell me what I cannot do, Keith. Many have tried. They’ve all been wrong.” His hand slithered down Keith’s back, stopping to grasp his waistband, and Keith choked out a sob as he started pulling his pants downward. “Come now, no need to fret. It’s always better when we’re both enjoying ourselves.”

Keith’s only response was another hitched cry, and Olren sighed as he finished removing the pants and tossed them to the floor. “Very well,” he said. “In that case, I do better without the interruption.” He shoved Keith’s head forward, muffling his cries into the pillow even as his whole body shook with distress. Keith could hardly breathe, positioned as he was, and he had to fight hard for air as he heard Olren start removing his own dressing gown and his sobs only sped up.

“Now,” Olren said into his ear, voice low and dark and dangerous. “Time to get star- ”

A abrupt slam cut him off, followed by a bizarrely familiar blast, and suddenly Olren’s chilling grip on him went slack as the king collapsed, his half-naked body draped over Keith’s. Keith froze, at first unwilling to believe it, and Olren didn’t move. Keith managed to twist his head just enough to get a glimpse at the figure on top of him, and saw that the king’s eyes were closed, his body limp, deadweight.

Keith lay flat a moment longer, breath coming in raspy, hiccoughing gasps, before the weight on him was lifted and he was able to turn himself around fully and see what had managed to stop his nightmare in its tracks.

The door to the room had been thrown wide open, and Lance stood in the entryway, his blaster in his hands. Even from this distance Keith could see the way the bayard was trembling in his grip, and the unusual pallor in his face. Beside the bed, Shiro had Olren in his arms, none-too-gently moving him to deposit onto the floor.

Keith’s eyes locked onto Olren’s half-dressed form, and he felt his heartbeat in his throat as he asked, “Is - is he - ?”

“He’s not dead,” Lance said. “I’ve got it set to stun. Regicide probably isn’t a good look for Voltron. But believe me, it was a tough call…” He gulped, his eyes flicking to Keith before pointedly returning to Olren, and Keith suddenly felt all too aware of the position he was currently in, his nakedness, which both Lance and Shiro were carefully avoiding looking at. The humiliation of it all made him want to shrivel up into nothingness.

“There’s still time to change our minds on that one,” Shiro grunted. He moved toward the head of the bed, taking care to keep his eyes off of Keith and instead focused on the manacles as he pulled out a lockpick and got to work.

Keith swallowed, breathing through his nose as he tried to get his heart rate back down to normal, but that didn’t seem to be happening anytime soon, so he put his focus into keeping still long enough for Shiro to unlock the cuffs. Lance approached slowly, and he delicately moved the duvet from where it was tucked into the foot of the bed and draped it over Keith as far as it could go. With Keith still stretched out on the bed, the blanket only reached his navel, but that was still enough to hide the most sensitive areas, so it was a marked improvement. “Thanks,” Keith rasped.

“Shit, Mullet, don’t thank us,” said Lance. “You wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place if we hadn’t - if we - ” He gulped. “Are you, um - did he - did he…?”

The tears started flowing again, unbidden, and Keith sniffed before answering in a choked voice, “No. Almost, but - but no.”

“Okay,” said Lance. “That’s - that’s good. I mean, it’s not - it isn’t good, it’s - it’s better than - than if it - I mean the whole thing is - Christ.” He wiped a hand over his face with a sigh. “God, Keith, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I - ”

“Don’t,” Keith said softly. “Not now.”

Lance turned away, and above Keith’s head he heard a click before Shiro muttered, “Got it,” and tossed the handcuffs away. Gratefully Keith brought his arms down, wincing at the stiffness left from the strain. Shiro moved around into Keith’s line of sight, his jaw stiff and eyes looking as tired as Keith had ever seen them. “Keith?” he said. “It’s - it’s good to see you. I, uh - ” He took a deep breath. “Let’s, um, just focus on getting you back to the Castle. Everything else - you’ve had enough for one day.”

“Yeah,” Keith said.

“Shiro,” Lance said, turning back to them. “Coran wants to know if there’s any big injuries besides the ones they saw already.” He tapped at his helmet. “Hang on, Coran, I’m asking.”

“Keith?” Shiro said. “Coran and Allura - they were keeping an eye out, to make sure we knew where to go and what to expect.” Keith nodded silently. “They, uh, they said you had a broken ankle, a head injury, possibly broken ribs…”

“I don’t think they’re broken,” Keith said. “And, um, the head injury - it hurts, but it’s not too bad.”

“Was there anything else?”

“No. No, those were the main ones.”

Shiro nodded. “Coran, there are some cuts and bruises to be accounted for, but no other major injuries.” He took a deep breath and scanned his eyes over Keith’s form. “If it’s just the one leg injured, hopefully we can walk you back if you use me as a bit of a crutch.”

“The guards - ” Keith choked out. “They’ll be - they’re gonna be mad…”

“Hunk and Pidge are taking care of them,” Shiro said.

“Would hate to be one of those guards right about now,” Lance muttered. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen Pidge that angry. It was kinda terrifying. I mean, not as terrifying as, uh - ” He gestured vaguely around the room with a wave of his hand. “But still.”

“Know what you mean,” Shiro said. “Keith? Can I go ahead and help you up?”

“Um,” Keith said, glancing uncertainly down at his body, still naked aside from the duvet.

“Here,” Lance grunted, and he tossed Olren’s dressing gown up for Shiro to catch. “Keith’s is all ripped.”

Keith gulped at the prospect of having Olren’s clothes on him, and Shiro’s brows furrowed apologetically. “We can just wrap you up in the duvet,” Shiro said. “If that would be better.”

“No,” Keith said. “No, that would - it’s more likely to slip. This is fine.”

“Okay,” Shiro said, “If you’re sure.” He reached out to help Keith into a sitting position, and assisted as Keith maneuvered his stiff limbs through the sleeves. They fell far past his fingertips once they were fully on, but Keith didn’t mind it. If anything, it just made it easier to shrink into the fabric, to hide away.

Carefully Shiro hoisted Keith off of the bed, setting him onto the floor on his good leg and wrapping Keith’s opposite arm across his shoulder so he could lean against Shiro as he half-carried him toward the door. “Lance, come on,” Shiro said. “Stay out ahead of us, Keith’s in no condition to fight.”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Lance said. He hurried toward the door, but when he was steps away, he stopped and turned around. “Actually, one more thing.”

“Lance?” said Shiro.

“I’ll be quick.” Lance jogged back over toward Olren’s unconscious body, jaw set in determination. Once he was standing over him, he lifted his leg, then slammed his foot down as hard as he could on the king’s groin, grinding his heel down for good measure. He gave a second kick as a courtesy before rejoining the others, leading the way out the door, nodding toward Keith as he went. “Doesn’t make things right,” Lance called over his shoulder. “But it’s a start.”

“Yeah,” Keith said quietly as he and Shiro followed behind him. “Yeah, it’s a start.”

#aroace keith #keith #vld keith #keith kogane #vld fic #my writing #fic: kings over aces

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kiruuuuu · 5 years

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Doc/Lion oneshot in which, instead of going for each other’s throat, they reach a little lower (and Lion gets more than he bargained for). (Rating E, explicit, ~3k words) - written for @big-r6s-fan! 💗 I will never tire of thanking you for commissioning me and allowing me to write this because it was super fun :) Find my commission info here!

“Flament, a word.”

The tone of voice effortlessly conveys the blatant lie in Doc’s statement – what he really means to say is: The only thing keeping me from writing you a novel is lack of time. Lion narrowly avoids rolling his eyes in annoyance and obliges, throws Montagne a meaningful look which implies they’ll finish their rudely interrupted conversation later and trails after his other teammate. If he could’ve gotten away with it, he’d be dragging his feet just because the murderous glare Doc would send him never fails to be hilarious. He’s reasonably certain he knows what this is about and boy, is he not in the mood for this.

And of course Doc marches him into his office instead of just any room which would’ve served the same purpose. With his inflated ego, it’s no surprise he enjoys chewing people out in a place where he’s comfortable; Lion can’t even begin counting the occasions on which he ended up on this side of the mahogany desk, having his person and skills and ethics challenged by a man too naive to be in this line of work and who genuinely thought he could pull off that frankly ridiculous moustache for a few years of his life. Lion is almost sad it’s gone by now, it befitted Doc’s general absurdity.

It doesn’t matter. He’s secretly begun rebelling against the man’s authority in a satisfying way and now he puffs himself up whenever he comes face to face with the very desk which used to make his temper flare purely by existing, but by now has lost its sting. It was customary for him to view the solid piece of furniture as an unsurmountable obstacle rendering any proper communication between them impossible, yet his view has shifted. It’s converted. It’s working for him now.

“I will not stand for you endangering more innocent lives.” Doc’s French is clipped, efficient, yet more than a tool to be used – he has the same intonation and melody to his words as Lion’s parents, as Sophie, as former teachers.

“Then stop endangering your own”, he replies and wants nothing more than to stuff something down Doc’s throat to make him stop talking. His holier-than-thou attitude has always rubbed Lion the wrong way, created sparks of fury, hostility, and something… entirely different on occasion. There’s dust from the debris in Doc’s hair, making it whiter than it already is and Lion wants to bury his fingers in it and then pull sharply.

He needs to stop getting distracted.

“Stop interfering with my work”, Doc snaps and it’s wonderful how easily Lion can get under his skin. At this point, it’s almost a hobby for him to rile up his colleague. And while private hissy fits are a necessary-turned-amusing evil, they serve another purpose as well: providing excellent material for long, gratifying ‘self-care’ sessions in which he fantasises about what would’ve happened if instead of quoting a specific law to shut down Doc’s argument, he’d just crowded him against a wall, rumbled filth into his ear and showed him how unprofessional he really can be.

“Then stop interfering with mine.” He has to suppress a smirk at the frustration on Doc’s face and doesn’t mind in the least that he’s doing the grown-up version of ‘no you’.

“Pray tell, Flament, what exactly does your work entail then? Does it state anywhere you should prevent me from administering first aid to a wounded civilian? Hm?” His tone is cutting, sharp and sweet like a rose’s thorn, and he actually abandons his safe haven behind the desk to come down to Lion’s level – or rather lower. Because he is noticeably shorter and Lion gladly stands up straighter to emphasise this fact.

“Above all, my work entails keeping my colleagues safe, for example preventing an altruistic idiot from rushing head first into a potential ambush.”

Doc’s eyes narrow. Their faces are uncomfortably close together, a result of too many altercations in the past where both of them got scolded for raising their voice, so now they rely on dangerous hissing. His smell is making it hard to breathe because it’s earthy, mesmerising, distinct. Lion wonders how it’d feel to force him to his knees and have this defiant gaze directed up at him while his sharp tongue is used for something other than reprimanding him for - “Is that your way of saying you’re worried about me?”

Lion is halfway through formulating a reply in his head when his thoughts screech to a grinding halt. Nothing has changed, Doc’s posture is just as defensive as before, expression stony, intonation accusing, and yet the atmosphere has… tilted a little. Spilled into uncharted territory. Lion isn’t sure what to make of it. “I worry about all my colleagues”, he eventually responds neutrally.

“That doesn’t absolve you from jerking off at my desk. Repeatedly.”

Oh.

Well fuck.

He blinks owlishly, utterly speechless because how in the world is he ever going to recover. Doc knows. How does he know?

Sensing he’s not going to get a sensible response from Lion any time soon, Doc continues: “If you have a problem with me, I’m sure we can work something out.”

His mouth is faster than his brain because there’s no way he’d in his right mind shoot back: “Yeah, you can work out on my cock.”

Okay. Alright.

This is still salvageable. All he needs to do is to back off immediately, apologise for the inappropriate comment, not mention that Doc needs to stop wearing these blasted form-fitting shirts or else Lion will really end up doing a briefing with a raging hard-on in front of everyone, and then steer clear of Doc for the rest of his entire -

“Real mature, Flament, but I expected no less. I’m afraid you’re mistaken, though, as it would be the other way round.”

Once again, words elude him, this time out of indignation. The audacity. Lion has no doubt he’s the more experienced one, is taller and heavier, certainly more masculine and dominant, and Doc has the gall to imply… Shock slowly morphs into smug disbelief and he finds himself shaking his head at this bold claim. “You haven’t got the balls.”

And Doc grabs him by the collar and smashes their mouths together.

Lion just – he stops functioning for a few seconds until he realises that it’s Doc’s tongue prying his lips open so he parts them willingly with an involuntary moan he regrets the moment he utters it. His brain still refuses to acknowledge the whole situation, making it easy for Doc to overpower him, guide the messy kiss and shove his hands under Lion’s sweater and holy shit, is this really happening? The desk’s edge digs into the backs of his thighs and Doc’s teeth into his lower lip and it’s Lion who’s making these horribly embarrassing noises, isn’t it? Like a mixture of a dying whale and a prisoner of war about to be freed and this is not at all how he pictured this to go.

Despite the suddenness of it all, there’s a particular part of his body which has no trouble keeping up and draws even more attention to itself the moment Doc’s thumbs brush over Lion’s nipples and good heavens, he did not expect Doc to be such a fantastic kisser. Desperate to regain any sort of control, Lion tries to fight the onslaught by grabbing Doc’s hands, wrestling his tongue into submission and spinning them around – with an emphasis on tries. Because Doc chooses that second to push a thigh between Lion’s legs, presses it directly against his achingly hard erection in all the right ways and makes his brain short-circuit yet again. The gesture results in vague flailing on Lion’s part, a particularly vicious swipe of Doc’s merciless tongue which turns his joints into butter and some ungraceful bumbling of which Doc makes use by basically lifting him up and setting him down on his stupid desk.

Well, so much for that.

“If you want me to stop, now’s the time”, Doc murmurs against his mouth and curls his tongue around Lion’s in a way he didn’t think possible. His inner monologue has turned into no more than incoherent screaming because while this general situation is a wet dream come true, he’s conflicted about the details and yet the thought of stopping the other man doesn’t even enter his mind. When calloused fingertips twist his nipples, all he can produce is a throaty groan full of arousal and longing, and when his legs (the traitors) wrap around Doc’s to pull him closer, his opponent breaks the kiss to regard him with a disgustingly smug expression. “That’s what I thought”, he says and starts unbuttoning Lion’s trousers.

Why don’t you start lubing up my cock with your throat so the sliding in becomes easier, the monkey part of Lion’s brain provides helpfully, sends the signal to his mouth and witnesses in stark horror how he instead chokes out something very, very different: “Please, hurry up, I want you.” It seems his entire body has set out to betray him: his upper body gives in at the slightest push and lies flat on the largely empty surface he’s defiled in the past, his hands lie uselessly by his side instead of struggling, and his dick is magnificently hard. Painfully hard. So hard it’s continuously throbbing and will probably ejaculate as soon as Doc looks at it wrong.

“I noticed my hand lotion depleting unusually quickly and asked Meghan for a Black Eye when I couldn’t locate the source”, Doc informs him conversationally while ripping down Lion’s trousers with minimal resistance. And oh, that explains how he knew. And… also means that Doc saw him. Oh God. “Tell me, did you fantasise about me, Olivier?”

His cheeks are crimson. It’s impossible to provide an honest answer, not when Doc pulls his underwear down as if they’d done this a thousand times and throws his uncomfortably hard cock an appraising glance. “I”, Lion starts stupidly and then Doc’s mouth envelops him in wonderful tight heat, prompting him to thrust his hips up at the unexpected stimulation and the next thing he hears is a sharp snap.

Doc just slapped his ass as punishment.

It stings, but even worse is the realisation that Lion isn’t going to top anybody today. “You can’t do that!”, he gasps, appalled, yet the look he receives is unbothered.

“Watch me”, Doc says and does it again. This time, Lion moans at the sensation, can’t help himself, it’s just – he doesn’t even know what’s going on, only that he’s in too deep already, and he’s not only talking about Doc’s mouth and oh God, his tongue really can do what it promised earlier. A mere minute later, Lion is writhing on the cursed desk in agonising bliss, trying desperately not to come down Doc’s throat while producing so much noise it’s a miracle no one has checked on them yet. He’s so resigned to his fate that he at first doesn’t notice the warm hand creeping up his thigh and getting dangerously close to his crotch, up until the pad of a finger strokes over his entrance and absolutely no way.

“Don’t”, Lion pants and nearly knees Doc in the temple, “just – keep sucking, please, but not -”

Doc pulls off his dick with a wet pop and, unperturbed, conjures up a bottle of lube seemingly out of thin air. “Should’ve used this instead of the lotion”, he states. “Then you could’ve fingered yourself in preparation as well.”

“I don’t do that sort of thing”, Lion protests and yelps when Doc hoists his legs up, folds them in half and places Lion’s hands on his own calves. He’s much too overwhelmed to complain and so he simply holds his legs up, spread invitingly, and then there’s a slippery finger inside him.

He opens his mouth to object. The finger crooks in a way just as magical as Doc’s tongue earlier and a fierce wave of pleasure rolls through him. Lion closes his mouth again.

“I don’t believe it for a second”, Doc counters and adds a second one and good Lord, how is he doing this? Lion’s thoughts are running haywire and he’s ashamed to admit that at least half of them are focused on replacing those fingers with something else. “This looks like your natural habitat.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” He flinches when the digits withdraw and narrowly stops himself from substituting his own. It really does feel phenomenal.

“It means”, Doc replies while unzipping his own trousers, “that you’re a slut.”

Lion is stupefied. Did Doc just -

And before his brain even processes the insult, it shuts down completely because that’s definitely a dick pushing inside him, giving him the opportunity to adjust and then rubbing over all the right places. In utter disbelief, Lion stares down at himself and can’t fathom how he ended up here when by all means, he should’ve -

“Hold this too.” The hem of his sweater gets shoved between his teeth and he bites down automatically; his reward is warm palms stroking over his chest and fingertips finding his nipples yet again and he’s sizzling, he feels hot and weird and his skin prickles wherever Doc touches, and above all he never wants this to end. Especially when Doc starts thrusting. “Do you like this?”

Lion’s only answer is a muffled moan about an octave higher than he’d like. There’s something like fireworks going on and it almost drowns out Doc’s next words. Almost.

“You, Olivier, are a nasty little slut”, and Doc emphasises this with a particularly deep thrust, “and you deserve to be punished. Do you know why?”

He shakes his head, too preoccupied with the sight before him, the incredible feeling of becoming one with this man, something of which he’s been dreaming for a long, long time.

“But you do. Because it wasn’t just my desk, was it?” Panicked, Lion looks up and is met with a half amused, half heated gaze. Doc seems to be enjoying this at least as much as he is. “My underwear has gone missing a few times. So has my uniform. I know how you look at me.”

Oh shit. Lion’s face starts burning and it’s only partly the hard movements which rock his entire body. He must make for a shameful display: presenting himself, incapacitated of his own volition, whimpering and squirming on Doc’s magnificent cock. And he realises that he doesn’t even care – because it looks like Doc is having the time of his life, and that implies they’ll do this again.

“Look at you, you’re taking it so well.” His voice is mesmerising and Lion notices himself giving in to the thrumming desire, relishing the sharp motions reaching deep and causing small explosions of need, of want, of delight. When a hand closes around his throbbing erection, he throws his head back and arches his back, feels fingernails dig into his ribs and scrape over a sensitive nipple, prompting an elated groan. “You’re sucking me in and gripping me so tightly.”

Lion wants it to last so badly, wants to hear Doc talk some more about all the depraved things he’s done because he hasn’t even mentioned half of it, can’t know the full extent, but as always, the universe is against him and gave Doc not only a gloriously talented tongue as well as a perfectly shaped dick, but also awarded him with skilled fingers who identify Lion’s weakspots in seconds and massage the ridge of his glans, torture him with long, slow strokes just like he would himself and that’s right, Doc knows exactly how he does it because he’s seen it, and this knowledge mercilessly shoves Lion off the edge without so much as a warning.

He comes with a series of moans, abs contracting marvellously and sending shocks of pleasure through him while Doc milks him, keeps jerking him in time with the almost violent spurts of come Lion unloads on his belly. Doc fucks him through it and creates white noise in Lion’s head with his thrusts, the stimulation flirting with discomfort but never really reaching it; and if it wasn’t for Doc’s own orgasm, Lion might’ve passed out cold with how hard the relief hits him. His rhythmic spasming must’ve been too much for Doc, causes him to climax while Lion is still tensing up and riding the last of his high and he looks beautiful. Doc tilts his head back with a satisfied groan, hips stuttering, and comes deep -

He – he’s actually coming inside, dick pulsing, eyes rolling back. And if Lion is honest, it’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

The hem of his sweatshirt snaps back the moment he lets go and he rests his head on the uncomfortable and frankly ostentatious desk with a sigh, lowers his legs but refuses to let Doc go by wrapping them around him once again. The fight has left him, but so has the heat of the moment which has shifted into an odd uncertainty. He’s not sure what to do other than enjoy the gentle afterglow.

As if he’d read his mind, Doc bends down to him for a kiss which lasts much longer than Lion expected it to, and when they separate after a good while, they’re both smiling. “How about we think of an excuse as to why our conversation took this long while we get you cleaned up?”, he murmurs good-naturedly.

The warmth spreading in Lion’s chest easily replaces the insecurity he felt, and so he nods happily.

“Really, though. Don’t touch my stuff again.”

He almost laughs at Doc’s serious tone and decides to take a chance: “And what if I do?”

To this, Doc smirks and Lion didn’t even know he was capable of doing that, is actually glad he didn’t find out earlier because it apparently doubles his heart rate and steals his breath away.

“Then I’ll see you in my office, Flament”, he says and raises a meaningful brow.

#rainbow six siege #doc #lion #doc/lion #fanfic #oneshot #commissions #lion is one of my fav unreliable narrators #stop letting your mouth write checks that you can't cash

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rogerina-deacon · 5 years

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Secret Weapon // Pat Murray x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Pat Murray x Fem!Reader Request: “Hi I have no idea if you're doing Pat Murray imagines or recieving requests. If you dont ignore this it's chill. If you are then: maybe the D-backs are playing a team with a girl (possibly outfield but whatever you're comfortable with) and all the guys are like trying to flirt and get with her but shes only got eyes for Pat? And like bench bets of who gets her number Pat obvi wins.... idk I just think that it'd be so cute and funny…” Summary: A certain player on their rival team has the D-Backs distracted beyond repair. Warnings: None! Just some fluff! Word Count: 1.6k

“Okay boys, today we’re up against the Marlins,” Ty started as he stared at his clipboard, eyeing the roster he had printed a copy of, ‘Now, word on the street is they’ve got some sort of secret weapon of a player, so I need you all to be on your a-game today, alright? Okay, let’s stretch.” And with that, a few of his players followed him onto the field as members of their opposing team arrived, most passing by them with a laugh and a snide comment. They all just rolled their eyes at their rivals, until they noticed someone they were not expecting to play against.

“Woah, who is that?” Barone spoke as he approached the men stretching on the ground, his eyes practically popping out of their sockets as his gaze scanned over your body.

“Barone, your girlfriend is right over there.” Ty pointed out to him, his hand motioning to said woman whose eyes were staring daggers as if to say “you ain’t getting shit for a week”. Meanwhile, you were just making your way to the dugout, bat slung over your shoulder as you joined the rest of your team, the D-Backs eying you not simply for the fact you’re their rival.

Barone entered the dugout, being greeted to the sound of everyone chatting over the secret weapon. Palacco was never the best at subtlety, and now was no exception as he held his hands in front of his chest as he talked to Zapata about your “killer knockers”, David in between them wishing they would quit being pigs when talking about you. He had seen you play before, as you two went to high school together, and knew you wouldn’t take whatever objectifying bs they threw your way, since that’s what happened seemingly every game you played. You were that cool senior he had an innocent freshman year crush on, and he’d seen you clap back at many sexist competitors, whether they were saying how girls can’t play baseball or how hot you looked in that uniform. He figured he would wait for them to get what’s coming to them in time, it had been a while since he’d seen you really go off on a guy and today seemed like a good day to get a refresher.

“Heyo Murray, you seen the marlin chick o’er there?” Zapata asked as Pat looked through his bag, Zapata motioning to the nearby dugout with his chin. Pat looked over to find you chatting with your teammates, bat in hand and Double Bubble in mouth. It looked like you were showing him how you swing, as he followed your movements. You patted the man's shoulder before walking over to the corner to spit out your gum, not one for being “ladylike”. You began stretching by yourself, your hips moving side to side as you bent down to touch your toes, one side and then the other, and the D-Backs followed every sway, namely Barone, Murray, Palacco and David.

“Keep your eyes on the prize, boys. No need to focus on her so much.” Fotch tried to knock some sense into them, to no avail. Palacco simply waved him off.

“If we’re lucky, though, she’s the prize” Zapata reasoned, his hands out in a shrug, earning a chuckle from Fotch.

“C’mon, guys, she’s no prize to be won. It’s just Y/N.” David said, knowing if he didn’t say something to defend you his ass would be on a stick with the rest of them.

“Y/N??? YOU KNOW HER, DAVID?” They all screamed, and your attention was pulled at the echo of your name, brows furrowed as they all continued hounding the poor kid with questions.

“Yeah, I mean, we were in high school together, she’s a few years older than me, no biggie.” He shrugged off, even though inside he was ecstatic that finally, he was cool to the other guys.

“I mean,” he continued, “we’re not even friends on Facebook, guys.”

“Yeah, probably cause you’re too pussy to request to be” Barone scoffed, rolling his eyes. And all David did was sigh, cause he knew he was right. You had 20 mutual friends with him, and every time he saw your profile in his suggestions he was this close to sending you a request, but he was too terrified of rejection.

“Fine, mock me, but don’t come crying to me when she kicks your asses after the game.” He said before wandering off to the other side of the dugout.

“Whaddya think he meant by that?” Palacco asked the other guys as he looked to each of them, but all he was met with was shrugs and sighs.

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

The third inning was upon us, and bench bets were well underway. David, Barone and Palacco had already gone through two rounds, though no one got any money, as per usual, since the song Mike chose as the best Spice Girls song was none of their answers (“Say You’ll Be There is nothing compared to Wannabe!” according to Palacco), and the Marlins only did two chants within the next five minutes, and no one thought it would be that few. They were eager to win something, whether it’s this game or some money, and money was more immediate. So, they began brainstorming new bet ideas, this time with Fotch. He had hurt his shoulder tossing the ball to Ty, and they all agreed that he should just sit out.

“Hey-uh, how about who can get Y/N’s number after the game today?” Barone suggested, and he was met with scoffs.

“Barone, your girlfriend is in the bleachers, remember?” Fotch reminded him, and Barone just rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I remember, that doesn’t mean I can’t get her number. Just means I can’t use it.”

“You are a pig, Barone.” David pointed out, dumbfounded at how dumb Barone was being.

“Besides,” David continued, “I doubt Y/N would go for a guy like you.”

“What, you think you’re more her type than me? At least I fuckin play, man.” Barone teased, hitting a bit of a soft spot on him.

“I’m just saying, she doesn’t go for sexist assholes, ‘kay?” David said defensively, holding his hands up in defeat.

The guys came in from the field, putting their bats away before taking a seat on the bench.

“So, what’s the latest bet?” Zapata asked as he plopped down next to Barone.

“Who can get Y/N’s number after the game today.” Palacco said with a smile, which was greeted with a scoff from the rest of the team.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Don’t think any of us can?” Palacco defended himself, and for the most part they just rolled their eyes.

“I doubt she’d go for jerk-offs like you guys… no offense, David” Pat said, hoping the young teammate understood he wasn’t referring to him.

“None taken, I know I’m not an ass.”

“What, think you got what it takes to get with her, Murray?” Barone challenged.

“More than you do” He said, taking out his wallet. “How much?”

“5 bucks” David said, and Pat threw the bill on the ground to join the others before he headed back out to the field for his turn at bat.

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

“Aaaand strike three!” The ump yelled as Pat took his final swing, trying to hold back his anger in fear of scaring you away. But as soon as he was in the far corner of the dugout, he lost it. Yelling, pulling at his hair, hitting the chainlink of the dugout with his bat until it broke, anything to release his frustration at his inability to hit a damn ball. And while all the guys on his team went to the opposite end of the dugout, and all the guys on your team just stared at each other in disbelief, you just kinda laughed to yourself at his reaction, which in no way went unnoticed.

“Okay she isn’t freaked out by Murray’s anger, you guys are screwed” Zapata told Barone, Palacco, and David, who just looked at each other in defeat.

“Well he doesn’t have her number yet, now has he?” Palacco reasoned, and Zapata just shrugged before continuing.

“Just sayin’, it seems like she’s already into him and they haven’t even talked.”

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

The game has finally ended, and the D-Backs just barely won. Now, they were doing handshakes with your team to be good sports. You were last in line, as was Pat, which was the perfect time for him to make his move.

“Great game, Y/N.” He said sweetly much unlike the others in both his tone and in that he actually said your name.

“You too, Pat.”

“You were really great out there today, best on your team no doubt.” He praised with a hint of a gleam in his eyes, a genuine smile formed on his lips. “I know we kicked your team’s ass today, but would you want to go out for a celebratory dinner for your great work?”

“I kinda doubt your team would want me at their dinner.” You pointed out with a chuckle at the end, which Pat returned as soon as you said it.

“Who says I want them there?” He said playfully, his eyes meeting yours in a way he hoped would make you know what he meant.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Murray?” You teased, shifting coyly.

“Maybe I am, Y/L/N. What do ya say?”

“I’d love to, Pat. Pick me up at seven?” You said, taking a step back.

“Sure, just one last thing…” He trailed off, reaching into his back pocket for a pen he grabbed before leaving the dugout.

“Can I get your number?” He asked, holding the pen outwards to you.

“Sure” You responded with a smirk, taking the pen and writing your number on the back of his hand, placing it in his palm before walking off the field, waving to him as you left.

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#undrafted #pat murray #pat murray x reader #pat murray oneshot

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plunder-heaven-and-devour-god · 5 years

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im gonna go full english lit under the cut

I saw measure for measure??? with my local Shakespeare in the Park about month and a half ago and im mcfucking obsessed with it. So much so that ive tried to find every clip of every film, every show, rehearsal, production, that i can to compare how scenes played out. I even listened to a harvard lecture about it, i’m that far gone. I BOUGHT. A SHIRT. I bought the book with additional notes and discussions because this play is fascinating.

WHY AM I OBSESSED?!

All readings through different lenses are there in full force, fully supported, living side beside with one another. And professors, actors, directors, scholars etc, all seem to congregate on the fact that not one reading is more valid than the other. Theyre so well balanced without ever really given moral answers but merely presented, almost like the Jacobean meaning of the “glass” both a mirror to predict the future and reflect on oneself. And in a post elizabethan age where puritans were outlawing plays and putting stricter holds on licentiousess this play is so close to upsetting the dominant religious force.

And the READINGS! ARE ALL! SO GOOD! There is historicist reading (king James I), Folkloric, Religious, SadoMasochist, Psychosexual, Moral, Feminist, and Capitalistic readings. THEY ALL EXIST SIDE BY SIDE.

And the staging of the play determines how many of these a production can pull together. I think that is why I wanted to see as many scenes are possible.

I think just the way Angelo and Isabella are played will determine which main reading the play tackles.

I’ve seen some versions of the interview scenes that are truly horrific acts of sexual violence that made me watch between my fingers. In this the feminist reading can come into full force, the full underline of Angelo as a sexual predator is made prevalent. And the line “and with an outstretched throat i will tell the world what man thou art, Angelo” being present that strong feminist reading IS ALWAYS THERE. (DID I MENTION I LOVE ISABELLA FLAWS AND ALL). The idea that Isabellas voice is the most crucial device in the play is FLOORING.

The Duke being a nearly godly figure who knows all and manipulates all, Angelo as his emissary becomes like an angel in the process of self corruption, from the inhumane ice he is so dubbed to warmed by the sins he so condemns. And Isabella defending the thing she so hates because it is her brother who commits the sin is the defense of someone who does not truly believe her brother is just. Mercy as justice. To wield power and to use it for mercy is so profound, and she is the only one who carries her ethos through like this to the end ofthe play. I’m not a theologist but so far this is the reading of theologists into the matter.

The version I saw in person he practically throws himself at her feet and it becomes an interplay of the psychosexual and moral. His knees buckle under her touch, it becomes the interaction of repressed sexuality channeled into both law and religion. In the Stratford production Isabella wipes her brow with water out of disgust or heat, no one is sure. it’s left ambivalent. In the one I saw Angelo was made almost comedic and sympathetic, which made ISabellas mercy still feel like an axe coming down upon his head.

And then characters like Barnadine just using comedy, the genre of the gods as the greeks called it, to dimish law, to put it to shame. To put the godly/playwright Duke in his place.

The folkloric bed switch (which is folklore yes but Im not totally comfortable calling it consensual even tho Angelo is a sexual predator you can bring modern sensibilities to the reading), is indicative of oral traditions that predate shakespeare. The idea that every character must do in this play the thing they most loathe to do.

Claudio fears death so he must die, Isabella must have sex to save a life when she has sworn herself to chastity. Then they both sort of hurt each other, Claudio by asking her to yield herself up to this non consensual sexual coercion of upmost grossness, and isabella by telling him to be happy he will die because there is nothing so painful as being alive (ISABELLA HES AN EXPECTING FATHER). He asks her to do the thing she loathes most in a fit of desperation because the man who loves life must die. And Isabella the woman who “would wear these keen whips as rubies” would have have done anything but sex, tells her brother that living isnt worth it. ITS INTENSE. LIKE WOW.

It’s absolutely no surprise that Isabella and Angelo are my favourite characters in the play. This awful sexual coercion (the degree of violence is dependant on staging which is like holy shit WTF), lives side by side with the fact that they are the two only people whose language, diction, beats, and intelligence matches each other. They both have the same fervor for their moral divisions and hierarchies. The idea of strict testing of morals and faith is in the text. Isabella wishes for harsher, more challenging, and harrowing tests of faith. You can argue as to why, I personally think its for the strengthening of faith and connection to the divine. Meanwhile Angelo is the one setting restrictions for hundreds of thousands of vienna, setting those on other people to strengthen the connection to a higher moral fibre, and I think in some respects faith as well but thats my interpretation.

Where others live their vices without restrictions, these two set limits for either themselves and/or others to be something more. They are in the way that motif of the “glass” The mirror. In that sense they reflect each other, but they also become each others foil. Which is why I do think a case can be made for the parallels with the psycho sexual and the SadoMasochist readings. Restraints for rewards, the repression on both their parts is there.

I’m not saying that negates the strong feminist reading or in anyway shape or form validates the absolute horror of the coerced sex/rape. I just say that they exist side by side with each other. They are equals in text/language/fervour AND YET they are not because he holds every power over her and her brother. He wants to restrict others where he cannot restrict himself, and Isabella restricts herself in part because she lives in a Vienna full of vice. She has a control over her own self that he proves not to have. And HE has a control over the world of the play that she cant.

AND YET. SHE IS MARRIED TO THE DUKE. SHE MARRIES INTO PROMINENCE. I don’t love the idea that she does not become a nun, her original want, and is instead coopted by the shitty duke (i am not pro duke sorry). The only upside at the end of the play is that Isabella can, in some measure, have political sway over the masses. Meanwhile Angelos fall and forgiveness put him into a marriage where his vice of coercive sex becomes consummation of a sleeping marriage. IT FEELS LIKE they sort of mirror each other the whole way through the play. ITS WEIRD BECAUSE THERE IS SO MUCH SEXUAL AND POLITICAL INEQUALITY TO THEM. ITs a play full of contradictions which I LOVE BECAUSE IT IS NOT SIMPLE NOT BECAUSE IT IS RIGHT. I do think there is a case to be made that Isabella unwillingly comes face to face with sexuality, his and hers, and its not on terms she wants, but it happens. And you see her struggling to maintain the authority over her own autonomy. But then she has to contemplate sex for herself, “to give up her boy into saucy sweetness, licentiousness, the filthy vices”. What does ISabella do when she comes face to face with her own sexual needs, whatever she may be? We have productions in the Stratford archives from 50 years ago that make an ambiguous case that the meeting of morality and sex might actually do something for her? I DON’T KNOW. The readings keep coming. There is a possiblity for a strong Ace reading for her which no one really touches on.

ON A LIGHTER NOTE

This play has my favourite sexual innuendo. When theyre like “WHAT DID CLAUDIO DO?”

“Her?”

“no! What did he do to get taken away by the provost”

“HIS GIRLFRIEND.”

(god and isnt it nuts that the first man on the scaffold for unlawful fornication IS IN A CONSENSUAL LOVING RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND, A BOND AND CRIME THAT THE LAW (ANGELO) HAVE DEEMED IMMORAL. YET THE LAW (ANGELO) WOULD HAVE IT PARDONNED BY A NON CONSENSUAL SEX FOR EXECUTION PARDON. THE MASK OF MORALITY OF ANGELO. JFC HES SO FUCKED, like hes AWFUL, because he ends up sending claudio to death after he thinks hes had sex with isabella. LIKE WHAT A PIECE OF SHIT ND YET STILL WEARS THE LAW AS HIS MASK AFTER THE ANGEL HAS FALLEN. ITS COMPLEX AND I LOVE IT)

God and just…the sex jokes, the black comedy of barnadine right next to the high shooting morals of angelo, isabella, and mariana (another complex af character. The 1976 version certainly makes a psychosexual explanation out of that, which im not sure i enjoy. Again the psychosexual has its limits in a play about sexual coercion and rape)

AND THE FACT THAT MERCY IS WHAT SETS YOU FREE, LIKE PROSPERO FORGIVING HIS ENEMIES, ISABELLA FORGIVING ANGELO IS A HERCULEAN FEAT, IT FEELS CLOSE TO GODLINESS IDK MAN. AND I UNDERSTAND WHY SHE TELLS HER BROTHER NO I WONT SLEEP WITH HIM FOR YOUR LIFE BECAUSE ITS RAPE, BUT THEN IS LIKE BE GLAD BEING ALIVE IS SHITTY ANYWAYS. Im like? ISABELLA? WHAT?! ISabella does not know about herself that she can be desired because GOD DOES IT TAKE HER A WHILE TO UNDERSTAND ANGELOS MEANING, and yet shes got such a force for words. I find it hard to think being married to the duke that she wont have some power.

And the exchange of Angelo and Isabella in the second interview.

-His moral stance on unlawful fornication starts with abortive language, the harsh restrictions but DEVOLVES INTO THE SEXUAL WITH THE INTELLECTUAL DICTION, It becomes a mirror of himself until he is explicit of what he wants from her. (OH GOD TRULY HE GIVES ME NAUSEOUS AND YET THE ONE IN THE PLAY I SAW HE WAS ENTHRALLING I HATE THE RANGE OF THINGS ANGELO CAN MAKE ME FEEL). His mask of morality is slowly removed

-ISABELLA must argue on behalf of her brother, believing in restrictions of the kid angelo speaks of, they believe in restraining oneself to achieve a higher form of being, and yet has to straight up defend something she hates because she loves her brother. And ANGELO CAN SEE IT. I WISH THERE WAS AN AFTERMATH WHERE WE SEE HER USING HER INTELLECT AND WORDS FOR HER ENDS.

I truly think the second interview scene is one of the best exchanges Billy Shakes wrote. Because it ENDS LIKE THAT. GOD the david tennant one is chilling, the oregon shakespeare festival one is fucked. The 1976 which is the most psychosexual was so intensely disturbing that the Angelo got applause for it. IDK What that means and im too scared to ask. Idk how the RSC managed because youtbe doesnt show me that. The Repurcussion theatre was the most varied array of contradictions for angelo instead of just corrupt judge. It literally is all the shakespeare villains that do the most heinous things that Im like THATS MY FAVE. Iago was just RACISM/Sociopath and fifteen year old me was like YES HIM. I mean Richard III is bad but hes fun. ANGELO AT THE BEST IS A SEXUAL PREDATOR AND YET IM STILL LIKE WOW HOW COMPLEX ALSO THE ACTOR WAS SO GOOD LOOKING AND PLAYING UP THE BDSM BOTTOM ANGLE I WAS GONE.

And the Isabellas go from wilting lily, to some sort of quiet and reserved girl, and the one i saw was literally “she is tiny but fierce” like her voice was really forceful and i thought it was amazing.

THIS PLAY IS FUCKED WHEN IT COMES TO THESE READINGS LIVING SIDE BY SIDE BUT BOY IS THIS INTERESTING.

if you made it this far wow holy shit. thanks for coming to my ted talk.

#in which i have a mental breakdown about shakespeare #measure for measure #this is my shame and pride #its a really great play and i wish i was in school to study it academically #but im not so i gotta settle for seeing what harvard english lit says

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geek-patient-zero · 5 years

Text

Part 1, Chapter 3 (pt. 2)

Or: Panic! at the (Former) Disco

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Volume 1

McCann and the vamps do not do alright.

Fast Eddie Sanchez–remember him, the guy guarding the door to the members only area?–appears from the crowd, wielding a stiletto knife and quipping about entrance being invite only. He lunges forward to stab the Red Death in the chest.

And gets himself killed right away.

The stiletto melts before it can touch the Red Death. Red D. grabs him by the neck and, despite having scrawny corpse arms like the cover shows, lifts him up one handed. Eddie shrieks in pain. And ignites.

Gouts of flame burst from Eddie’s nose, eyes, ears, and mouth. Tongues of fire erupted from his chest. His fingers blasted into bits like fireworks. Legs and arms exploded like dry wood thrown into a blazing fireplace. His skin blackened and crinkled like burning paper. A blast of incredible heat roared through the chamber. And Fast Eddie Sanchez was gone.

The Red Death laughs “insanely,” which might be too cliche villainish if Weinberg’s going for a “force of nature” theme like his namesake from Poe’s story, as he pours Eddie’s ashes out of his hand.

“He was the first. But not the last. A fitting end to all those who defy the Sabbat. Or challenge the might of the Red Death.”

Alright then, I guess he’s a supervillain.

Understandably, the crowd of nameless vampires and ghouls lose their shit and panic. We’re reminded that fire destroys vampires.

...and though most had existed for hundreds of years, they clung to their unnatural existence with all the hunger of their mortal counterparts. More, for they knew beyond any doubt that they were the damned.

Like what’s going on isn’t already dramatic enough.

They run for the exit, but a mysterious force is keeping the door shut. That or Fast Eddie locked the door behind him when he came in to die. Either way, they’re stuck in the chamber with the Red Death, who’s strolling around killing anyone who gets close enough with fire hugs.

Methodically, it grabbed hold of any Kindred foolish enough to venture close. Clasped the vampire to its chest and turned it to ashes.

Dire McCann, Alexander Vargoss, and the twins, meanwhile, are presumably still standing in front of their table, posing. Tyrus Bendeict is still seated, and panicking. He thinks the Red Death’s after him and the photos of Baba Yaga from Russia.

McCann shook his head. “Nonsense” he snapped at the wizard. But wondered if perhaps the Tremere sorcerer wasn’t correct.”

McCann’s instinct to be contrary is faster than his ability to think.

I’m starting to notice that Weinberg tends to write two sentences when one sentence with a comma would do. I think it’s supposed to make the narration look deliberate and dramatic, but instead it comes off as stilted and weird to read.

“Attend me,” snapped Alexander Vargoss to his Dark Angels. “He must be stopped.”

Features grim but determined, the Prince stepped forward directly into the path of the Red Death. Vargoss’ body pulsated with raw energy.

A fifth-generation vampire, he was over 2,000 years old and controlled incredible powers.

Jesus Christ, he’s a step away from a methusalah! What the hell’s he doing merely being the Prince of St. Louis? Is he just that bad at the Game?

Many of the important vampires in Blood War are going to be both really old and low generation. As the summary on the back cover states:

“This series reveals many of the underpinnings of the World of Darkness and spotlights the dreaded elder vampires known as Methuselahs.”

This is one instance where having a younger or higher generation vampire in the role might make more in-universe sense.

Raising his hands high over his head, clenching his fingers into fists...

...Vargoss extended his mighty will. “Halt,” he commanded in a voice that never before had been denied. “HALT!”

I guess if the Prince were higher generation, it wouldn’t be as impressive when the Red Death no-sells his Dominate attempts.

The Red Dead laughed in defiance. It continued to advance.

Bet he’s laughing at Vargoss’s Ginyu Force pose more than at his futile resistance.

“Halt,” repeated Vargoss, his voice uncertain. The first traces of doubt showed on his face. The Red Death was very close. It was too late, much too late, for the Prince to turn and run

Sit down, LaCroix Vargoss.

McCann opens fire on the Red Death, but once again the Ingram’s useless. Red D. isn’t even slowed.

Slowly, with great deliberation, the Red Death reached out for the Prince. To the detective, always suspicious of being manipulated, the monster seemed to hesitate for an instant, almost as if waiting for an interruption.

Whatever the Red Death is playing at, the ~*~Dark Angels~*~ step in before things get too awkward.

Moving with inhuman speed, Flavia and Fawn grabbed the prince by the shoulders, spun him around, and sent him flying.

Holy balls, I love this! The twins saved their boss by fucking hurling him away from the fire monster. In my head, I’m imagining them chucking Vargoss “off-screen”, him screaming in his David Warner voice all the way, followed by some cartoon crashing noises and a cat screech.

With Vargoss safe and probably unconscious, the twins turn their attentions to the Red Death.

...they could not resist the challenge the monster presented. Assamite assassins, they thrived on death and destruction. Two sets of matched blades, the finest in the world, slashed in wide arcs.

Yeah, attack the Red Death with blades. That worked so well for Fast Eddie.

To the twins’ credit, their blades don’t melt like Eddie’s stiletto when they try to slice off Red D.’s hands. But they don’t hurt him either. They just pass through.

McCann cursed aloud, astonished. In his entire existence he had never before seen the like. The specter appeared composed entirely of frozen flame. Which meant that nothing physical could harm it. The Red Death was invulnerable to normal weapons.

Like a ghost-type Pokemon. You gotta use special attacks on him.

Tentatively, McCann reached out telepathically with his mind.

...

I’m sorry, he what!? The big bastard’s telepathic too now!?

He hated revealing any hint of his true essence. But there was no other choice. He had to know the truth. What type of being was the Red Death? For a bare instant, thoughts crossed, as minds touched. Then McCann recoiled in shock.

Unable to attack the Red Death in any meaningful way without getting himself killed, McCann instead decides to use his suddenly revealed psychic powers to read his mind and remove some of his mystery just a few pages after his introduction.

With his mind probe, McCann learns that the Red Death is definitely Kindred, not something from a different game like a wraith or, god forbid, an actual mage.

It used a discipline McCann had never before encountered–Body of Fire. Transforming into this form took the combined efforts of several vampires, which meant the Red Death did not work alone. McCann caught a fleeting memory of a group calling themselves The Children of Dreadful Night. Then the thought was gone, swallowed by the creature’s obsession with destruction. In its present state, the Red Death was more elemental fire than vampire. It hungered to destroy life. It existed to kill.

The Red Death immediately detected McCann’s mind probe, closed off its thoughts, and sent back

...a mental stream of hellfire that would have burned the detective’s brain to cinders if he had remained in contact.

Psychically incinerating a dude’s brain if he tries any psychic shit on you. That’s actually an awesome power, if situational.

Let’s talk about this bit with the mind probe. We've just been introduced to this villain, this unstoppable force who came out of nowhere, who even ancient and powerful vampires like Vargoss are helpless against, and what little we learned about him we got from his actions and what he volunteered to tell us about himself. At this point in the story, the effectiveness of such a monster is enhanced by nobody knowing who he is or where he came from, or even his exact motives.

Obviously, we’ll learn more about the Red Death as the story goes on, until all will be revealed. I have no problem with that, and there’re still things we don’t know about old Red D. But thanks to McCann’s previously unhinted at telepathy he immediately confirms he’s a vampire, the name of this disciple everyone’s helpless against, how it’s powered, and the name of the group the Red Death was working with. In trying to show off McCann and further hint at his mysterious nature, Weinberg unintentionally undermined his villain early on. That stuff McCann just learned via mind probe could have been spread out in later chapters, and preferably they’d be uncovered by, you know, actual detective work, maybe with some supernatural help, instead of some sudden asspull power.

By the way, I looked it up on the White Wolf wiki, and there’s no result for a Discipline called Body of Fire, so it seems it was made up for this story. There’s a discipline called Godbody of Fire, but it’s a Kuei-jin power, not Kindred. It works completely differently, and Kindred of the East wasn’t released until ‘98, so don’t expect any plot twists in that direction. Besides, I don’t think the Red Death is Asian.

There’s also a Protean power called Body of the Sun, which transforms a Kindred into “blazing indestructible fire.” Thing is, it’s a tenth-tier power, the highest one. If a character has reached the tenth tier of a power, than they’re probably an Antediluvian or at least a really old Methuselah. Usually the only other tenth tier power of a discipline is an Antediluvian-only power called, I shit you not, Plot Device, which can best be described as “The power can do whatever the hell the storyteller wants.” Obviously it’s for storytelling purposes and not an actual in-universe power. (All that said, most of that I'd typed up before reading the next two books in the trilogy. We'll learn exactly what Body of Fire is in the next book, and why it's unlikely your vampire OC will ever learn it.)

One other thing. McCann doesn’t recognize the Red Death. But the Red Death recognizes him.

Anyway, that little psychic exchange? It took place in only a few seconds, and the twins are preparing their second attack, this time aiming for the eyes. McCann cries “No!” but they ignore him.

When they attack, the Red Death lashes out with his arms in sweeping motions, either trying to grab or clothesline them like the WWE superstar he is. Flavia, the one who hasn’t done anything separately from her sister so far, ducks out of the way. Fawn, the one who killed the fleeing assassin and made fucky eyes at McCann back in Chapter 1, however...

...was not so fortunate. Crimson fingers raked across her face.

The Dark Angel screamed, the first time McCann ever heard her make a sound. Then, an instant later, she exploded in a fireball of white flame. Involuntarily, McCann’s eyes snapped shut.

He hears a gurgling noise behind him and turns around, bumping into someone hurrying away. He opens his eyes and sees that Benedict’s still seated at the table.

Except his head’s been cut off.

And the Red Death didn’t do it, either. While everyone was distracted by the invincible fire vampire, someone went and chopped the poor Tremere’s head off. He instantly starts rotting away, because when a vampire dies their bodies decay to the point they should have if they had died instead of being embraced. The longer they live, the less there is left of them afterwards.

The Red Death has suddenly vanished as well. Post-battle, we’ve got a thoroughly emasculated Ventrue Prince and are down a doorman, a bodyguard, a wizard, and a few nameless cannon fodder vampires and ghouls. The Red Death lost nothing.

Vargoss, presumably covered in a bit of dust and with a banana peel on his shoulder, begins bringing order among the panicked vampires with help from “his overwhelming force of majesty,” which I’m assuming is the high-level Presence power of the same name. With the Red Death gone, the force keeping the exit shut vanishes too (so that wasn’t Eddie’s fault, may he rest in- oh right, damned), but Vargoss won’t let anyone leave until they calm the hell down. He doesn’t want anyone breaking the Masquerade by running past all those goth kids while screaming about fire vampires.

Meanwhile, Flavia, the surviving twin, is having a bad time.

Alone, on her knees in the center of the room, Flavia cried tears of black blood. Dark Angel and Red Death. McCann felt certain their duel was far from over.

Unless someone with a more impressive title comes along to challenge him.

The photos of Baba Yaga are gone, along with anything else Benedict brought with him, his assassin having pocketed them. McCann finds a lone clue, dropped by the assassin when he bumped into them a few moments ago: a green sequin. The kind from the dress Rachel Young, the supposed ghoul singer, was wearing.

Hurriedly, he scanned the crowd. Though no one had been permitted to depart, there was no sign of Rachel Young. The singer had disappeared. McCann was not surprised.

And that’s Chapter 3 done. We won’t see the aftermath of the Red Death’s attack right away. Next chapter we’re taking a break from McCann to focus on a new character in Washington D.C., which has apparently gone to all hell.

I mean that in a World of Darkness way, not the real life bad timeline way.

#vampire the masquerade #vampire: the masquerade #vtm #vtmb #world of darkness #blood war

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squirrel-moose-winchester · 7 years

Text

Because You’re an Idiot

Title: Because You’re an Idiot

Dean x Reader AU

Word Count: 2168

Warnings: Nothing but pure FLUFF!!!, and some “inappropriate” words.

A/N: This story is my submission to Jordan’s (@queen-of-deans-booty) 2K Fluff Challenge! My prompt for this challenge was, “wearing his clothes.” Also, I just want to congratulate Jordan on her milestone achievement! And… I hope this is fluffy enough!

Dean Winchester. Your best friend since childhood, despite him being two years older. You two had managed to become closer than ever imaginable from the day you met. Like a gift from God, he had somehow showed up at the right place at the right time and now you couldn’t imagine a life without him. He was your superhero – always there when the neighborhood boys would pick on you just because you were the new girl.

Now, years later, you two were still inseparable. Relationships never got in the way, fights only made your friendship stronger, and the trust you put on each other would literally end worlds if it ever were broken.

Currently, it was both of your day off, and like you spent most days off, you were on your way to meet up with Dean at his place. Sometimes it was the other way around.

“Y/N, where are you? You should already be here,” Dean’s voice rushed out from the other end of the phone call.

“I’m on my way!” You shouted, trying to hear yourself over the crashing sound of the rain.

“Why are you yelling at me?” He whined.

“I’m not! The rain is just really loud.”

“Please tell me you’re not walking in this weather?” His voice was stern and full of worry.

“I thought I could make it,” you confessed. You lived only a few blocks away; in the house your parents had left you when they passed. “Don’t worry, I’m almost there!”

Before Dean could speak, he heard you yelp. You had tripped over a crack in the sidewalk, one you should have known was there considering you made it a routine to trip over it every single time. You’d think you’d already be conditioned to maneuver around it by now.

“Y/N?” Dean called, but your phone had fallen out of your hands and slid a good foot away from you.

“Dammit,” Dean heard you curse, but you sounded as if you were far away. He heard ruffling and scratching before your voice was loud and clear again. “Sorry, I tripped,” you hissed, seeing blood mixing with the rain water and washing away onto the pavement.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked, his voice panicked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little scratched up. I’m almost there,” you assured him. When he didn’t reply you called out his name, but there was still no answer. You pulled the phone away from your face to view the screen only to see that he was still connected. “Dean!” You yelled, worry building in your voice and stomach.

“Y/N!” Dean’s voice was heard once again.

“Dean?” You spoke into the phone.

“Hey, doofus!” He shouted again, this time, your head snapped upward seeing him standing in front of you, getting soaked in the downpour. His plain black shirt sticking to his broad chest and trim waist, enabling the lines of his body to be shown off to a lucky audience of one.

“Dean!” You called, as he examined your drenched figure. To him you looked like you had just gotten out of a tub filled with water. Your hair was matted to your face and neck, your knees and shin coated with streaks and blotches of blood. You were a hot mess. A beautiful one at that.

Dean chuckled walking over to you, taking your bag and threading it through his arm before taking your hand and running back to his apartment. Once under the shelter of the lobby, Dean took some tissues from the front desk to wipe up your knees.

“You sure are a major klutz, you know that?” He teased. “Always have been and always will be,” he laughed.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, your cheeks flaring in embarrassment. It really wasn’t your fault that the invisible, magical, fairies liked to pick on you.

“What did you do to piss off the fairies this time?” He humored, having been told many times that maybe fairies liked to play tricks and pranks on people. You had gotten the idea from one of your favorite books, and it really put things in perspective. What if? The world was filled with mystery after all.

“Hey man, you never know!” You pointed at him in all seriousness. Dean laughed just as the owner of the apartment building, who was currently managing the front desk, appeared from the back room. Her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when she noticed your soaking wet forms. “Dean, Y/N! What on earth?” She questioned.

“Hey Mrs. Harvelle. It’s nothing to worry about, it’s just the result of one of Y/N’s bad decisions,” Dean laughed, causing you to whack him upside the head. “Ow,” he chuckled, taking your hand in his once again.

“Honey, you really need to work on that,” Mrs. Harvelle added as she watched on, smiling at the pair of you. She was sure that one day, the two of you will get together and live happily ever after. God knows the both of you deserve it. She knew love when she saw it. No matter how much you and Dean denied it, always trying to convince her that you were just best friends, she knew better. She was older and wiser, and had seen her fair shares of love stories.

“You know, some of the best relationships start off as friendships,” she announced.

You looked up at her, as Dean turned his head to peek over his shoulder. “Mrs. Harvelle, really, it’s not like that between Dean and me,” you smiled adoringly. Mrs. Harvelle was a sweet and overly generous woman, and happens to be the mother of your other best friend.

“That’s not what my little Joanna tells me,” she grinned.

“Really? Jo is really something,” you giggled.

“Sorry for tracking water in here, do you have a mop that I can clean it up with?” Dean asked, being the considerate man that he has always been.

“Honey, I got that. You kids, better get changed into some dry clothes before y’all get sick,” she ordered, waving her pointer finger at the both of you from head to toe.

“Yes ma’am.” You and Dean looked at each other giggling as you spoke the same words at the same time.

When you finally reached Dean’s floor, you were quivering. The building was air conditioned. The cool air and being out in the rain for so long was getting to you. “C’mon, I’ll get you something to wear,” Dean ushered you into his apartment, making a bee-line to his bedroom.

While Dean was gone, you walked into his bathroom, peeling off your flannel, shoes, and socks. You were sitting at the edge of the tub, using your flannel to wipe up the blood on your knees when Dean walked in. He had some spare clothes for you to wear and a towel.

“Why don’t you take the first shower?” He offered.

“Thanks,” you smiled, taking the clothes and towel out of his hands.

Dean left you to get cleaned up. When you were finished, you wiped yourself dry before putting on the clothes he had lent you. His scent swarmed your sense and you surprisingly felt completely relaxed. Everything felt safe, warm, and comfortable. You double checked your knees to see that they were no longer bleeding, which meant covering it up would be useless.

Exiting the bathroom, you headed into the kitchen to find a note scribbled with Dean’s handwriting. He had gone out to help Mrs. Harvelle with starting her car. Shrugging, you went into Dean’s bedroom, plucking his large fluffy blanket from his bed and brought it over to the couch, where he was once watching TV. Plopping yourself down, you noticed that an eerie movie with creepy music was playing.

Dean returned finding you snuggled up on the couch, extremely focused on the movie. He had called your name but you never acknowledged him. He smiled, before making his way to his bedroom for some clothes and then into the shower.

Once Dean was all cleaned up, he found you in the same spot, this time with the blanket draped over your head like a hood. He walked over silently, creeping closer from behind you. He had seen this movie before and knew that a scary part was coming. Waiting for the right moment, Dean lunged towards you, leaping over the back of the couch and tackling you. You shrieked bloody murder, flailing your arms around you.

Dean started to laugh at your reaction, his voice deep and loud. “Dean Winchester you fucking asshole!” You shouted, punching him on his arm, head, leg, side, back, anywhere you could. That only made Dean break into conniption!

“Holy shit! That was fucking amazing!” Dean roared, his words mixing in with his laughter. “OW!” He shouted, shooting up into a sitting position despite it being in an uncomfortable angle. “You bit me!”

“Because you almost gave me a heart attack, you jerk!” Your face was serious which brought Dean back into a chuckling mess.

You shoved the blanket over Dean’s head and jumped on top of him, continuously punching him again. He was mumbling something through the thick fabric and incessant laughing, but you couldn’t quite understand. Dean suddenly shot upwards causing you to topple backwards onto the couch, your legs bent on either side of his waist.

He looked down at you with his hair tousled in all sorts of directions. He looked incredibly adorable in the handsome sort of way. He had always been good looking, but for some odd reason, he looked peculiarly, much more, handsome than usual. The both of you were panting heavily from your friendly rough housing, Dean still smiling as his eyes raked over your form. You observed him carefully, your heart dropping when you noticed that his smile faded in a blink of an eye.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, pushing yourself into a seated position. When you looked at him, you noticed that his cheeks were red, making his freckles all the more prominent. Your first initial thought was that he had caught something from being out in the cold rain. “Are you okay?” You questioned, placing a hand on his forehead. When you couldn’t feel anything, and wanting to be sure, you instinctively pressed your forehead against his. His eyes went wide before he pushed you away, holding you at arms length.

“I-I’m fine,” he stuttered, which was weird. The only time he stuttered was when he was nervous about something.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“You…”

“Spill it Winchester!” You demanded.

“You just look really hot in my clothes.” The words came out in a rush that you could barley comprehend him, but you did.

It was now your turn to flush cherry red. You were not expecting that to slip from his mouth. His eyes were casted sideways, unwilling to meet yours. In that moment, something about him just made your heart pound, then without thinking, you did it. You stretched your arms forward, placing his head between your hands and forcing him to meet your gaze. It was only for a second before you pulled him in and pressed your lips against his, molding them together.

There were no sparks or fireworks, but there was surely something there that was unexplainable. It was a warmth that swallowed you whole, it was the feeling of butterflies picking you up from the ground, there was this undeniable need to have this feeling forever.

When you both pulled away, Dean had his forehead leaning against yours, not willing to be too far from you. His breath danced on your lips, enticing you for more. “Dean,” you breathed.

“Hmm?”

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not gonna lie, I like it.” His gorgeous emerald orbs met with your dark ones. “I really like it.”

Your vision fell back to his lips, wanting to taste them again. And as if he could read your mind, he leaned forwards, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Naturally, your arms snaked their way around Dean’s neck, your fingers slithering through his short dirty blonde locks. When you tugged on the short strands, a deep groan escaped from deep within his throat, the vibrations reverberating through your lips and straight to your core.

“I don’t know why I never noticed before,” you panted as you broke the kiss.

“What?” Dean asked breathlessly.

“That it’s always been you?” You confessed.

“What?”

“I’ve always loved you,” your voice became timid at your confession. Dean smiled, kissing you again. This time with more passion and too short for your liking. “How did I not figure it out?” You questioned mostly to yourself.

“Because you’re an idiot,” he chuckled, pulling away.

“Excuse me?” You mocked offense.

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he admitted, your cheeks staining red.

“You’re the idiot, idiot,” you smiled wide, dragging him into another breathtaking kiss.

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kenzieam · 7 years

Text

Sera Shadow - Chapter 1 (Ivar X OC)

Rating: M - Mature (angst, swearing, violence, murder, smut)

Genre: Drama, angst

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“Who wants to be King?” Ragnar roared, eyes scanning the crowd, zeroing in on his five sons.

Ubbe stepped forward, everyone tensing as Ragnar stalked towards him; sighs of relief and disappointment sounding when the King pulled his son into a rough embrace rather than striking at him. The crowd began to dissipate and Bjorn waited another beat before pointing at the figure standing a few paces from Ragnar, apart from the crowd, their hood hiding their face.

“Who’s that?” He demanded.

Ragnar glanced over his shoulder and, with barely a perceptible nod, brought the figure forward. As they reached his side, a hand appeared from inside the cloak and pulled the obscuring hood back. The brothers stared in shock.

Her hair was a deep reddish brown, her large eyes a stormy grey with hints of violet. Faint freckles danced across her cheeks and nose. She calmly assessed the men in front of her, sweeping her cloak back to reveal twin war axes hanging from her belt. She was dressed as a shield maiden, her leather’s well broke in, speaking to many battles. She looked to be no older than Ragnar’s youngest son, the one called Ivar the Boneless.

“So you’ve taken another wife?” Bjorn spat, head tilted incredulously.

“She is my daughter.” Ragnar replied.

The princes glanced at each other in stunned confusion; Ragnar had only been gone ten years. Seeing their puzzlement Ragnar rolled his eyes.

“Not the fruit of my loins daughter! But in every other way, every way that matters. I have raised her and trained her to fight as if she was my own blood.” Ragnar scoffed, tilting his head and throwing his arms wide in that quintessential Ragnar way.

A thousand different thoughts ferried instantly between the brothers but it was Bjorn who spoke again.

“What is her name?”

“She possesses a tongue, ask her yourself.” Ragnar growled, glaring daggers at his sons.

Almost as one, five pairs of eyes swiveled towards the still silent girl until, finally, Ubbe spoke.

“What is your name, sister?”

“Sera.” Her voice was silken, slightly husky, her accent unidentifiable, giving no clue as to where Ragnar Lothbrok had been for the last ten years.

“And how did you meet Ragnar?” Ubbe continued.

“Ragnar found me as I lay dying from the fever, my entire village dead around me. He saved me and raised me as a daughter.”

“How long ago?” Sigurd now spoke, his tone scathing.

Sera’s cool grey eyes swiveled to him and she silently assessed him, her eyes traveling up and down his body before she spoke. Unseen beside him, Ivar grinned, amused. “Eight years. I am now fifteen, still a virgin and have killed eleven men, some for less than the disrespect you are displaying now, anything else you need to know?”

Sigurd blinking in astonishment before reaching for the dagger at his side, lip curling in anger. A war axe appeared in Sera’s hand and she reached with the other, beckoning Sigurd forward. Ragnar threw his arm across her chest, holding her back with a look. Bjorn stepped between the two figures as Ubbe and Hvitserk pulled at their younger brother, hushing him and pulling the dagger away. Ivar’s eyes grew wide with excitement and sudden interest.

“Enough.” Ragnar grunted. He glanced at Sera before turning and glaring at Sigurd. “You are angry with me, not her.”

Sigurd scoffed and threw off Ubbe’s arm, stepping back a few paces with a sour look on his face. Ubbe turned back to face Ragnar, his eyes flicking to the girl still standing sentry at his side.

“Peace, sister,” he called, but Sera refused to replace her axe on her belt until Ragnar himself nodded once to her.

“Why are you back?” Bjorn growled.

***************************************************************************************************************************************************** The reunion had not been a glad one. All four of Ragnar’s sons that followed him up to the great tree had roundly rejected his idea of sailing back to Paris, their eyes flicking occasionally to Sera who remained steadfastly standing over Ragnar’s right shoulder, still not trusting her new brothers.

She’d remained silent the entire time, assessing and listening to the point that the four princes began to shift uneasily under her scrutiny. Finally Ragnar had glanced back over his shoulder to see what held his son’s attention then smiled almost sadly. He’d patted his bent knee and Sera had moved to sit between his legs, leaning back against his chest. There was nothing sensual in the movement, merely a protector and his chosen dependant sitting closely, probably something they did all the time to stay warm and for comfort. Ragnar had rested his head in the crook of Sera’s shoulder and raised an eyebrow. Better? His gaze asked.

Faint looks of jealousy passed through the prince’s eyes. They’d missed out on ten years with their father, and here was the girl who’d been gifted with that time, who played at being their sister, at being Ragnar’s daughter, with no blood connection.

After a bout of heated arguing the unhappy group fell silent. The princes glanced at each other, asking each other without words if they were ready to head to the town and Sera surprised everyone by finally speaking.

“I know you don’t like me and you have no cause to. Your father abandoned you ten years ago then promptly found a substitute child to raise; in his absence you have grown into men and feel you are no longer bound to the man who helped give you life. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that Ragnar did indeed miss you while he was gone, and regretted leaving you.”

“How would you know that?” Again Sigurd, who seemed to take Sera’s presence as a personal insult.

Faint colour tinged her pale cheeks. “He had nightmares and cried out to you all, asking for forgiveness, for understanding.”

Now it was Ragnar’s turn to flush and he turned his head into Sera’s hair, murmuring, most likely a gentle reproof, to her.

This bald statement, a hint of vulnerability gave the princes pause, what cause would this girl have to lie? Especially if it now appeared that Ragnar was embarrassed by her confession.

“I will go with you, even if no one else will.” Sera declared quietly, then stood and plucked her sword from where it rested against the tree trunk, replacing it in the scabbard across her back and quietly jogging away.

The princes watched her then turned back to Ragnar who murmured, his eyes still on her retreating form.

“I’ve rarely heard her speak so much at one time…. She likes to hunt by herself, she’ll more than likely return tonight with a deer, perhaps two.”

“You trained her for war?” Hvitserk asked.

Ragnar met his sons eye’s squarely. “I would not challenge her, at times I wonder if she’s half-berserker.”

“Where did you find her?” Ubbe this time.

Ragnar gestured vaguely. “I hardly remember, I wandered for a time, lost in my thoughts and regrets, not paying attention… it wasn’t until I discovered a dead village and a dying child that I shook myself out of my fog….. do not punish her my sons, for my misdeeds, she has been the anchor I have tethered my sanity to.”

***************************************************************************************************************************************************** Sera returned that evening with two fresh deer kills and gave both to the great hall cook to use. Ragnar had left instructions for her to stay at the hall, for Aslaug wished to speak to her, and afterwards find rest there. Ragnar wasn’t comfortable, or welcome for that matter, but he wanted Sera to be treated with some degree of warmth. After a quick wash, a slave escorted Sera to the great room, where Aslaug sat in her throne, a cup in hand, waiting. Ragnar had not taught Sera much in way of manners but she dropped to her knee nonetheless, lowering her head respectfully.

“Thank you, Queen for your hospitality.”

Aslaug nodded in acknowledgement. “You may stand.” She studied Sera, standing before her in worn battle leathers, her hair bound in shield maiden braids, but still long and wild down her back. She had not been allowed to bring her weapons and looked distinctly uncomfortable without them.

“So you have lived these last ten years with Ragnar?”

“Eight, Queen.”

“And he saved your life?”

“Yes, Queen.”

“Are you with him?”

“Queen?”

“Do you share his bed?”

“No Queen, he is like a father to me.”

Aslaug nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing further on the subject. “Well then, Sera Ragnarsdottir; Ragnar has asked for me to provide shelter for you, treat you as a guest. I have a room prepared for you and, if you wish, there is food.” She gestured to the shadows and a thrall appeared. “Hild will show you to your room, she is yours for the duration of your stay.”

“Thank you Queen Aslaug.” Sera bowed her head, she had not expected kindness from Ragnar’s wife, was all too used to sleeping out of doors to have even considered a real bed, and she was grateful for the offer. She nodded once more to the Queen before following Hild.

A scraping, dragging sound hit Sera’s ears later as she sat at the main table. Hild had brought her a cup of mead and plate of food, and Sera was eating slowly, winding down from the day. Sera watched as Ragnar’s youngest son, the cripple called Ivar the Boneless pulled himself into the chair at the head of the table, where Ragnar himself should be. He glared at her with narrowed eyes, studying her and Sera took the opportunity to appraise him back.

His blue eyes were stunning in colour, but all the more striking for the sharp intelligence behind them, the cold observation. His full lips were twisted in a mild grimace, almost pouting. Sera couldn’t help but admire his body, he may have needed to drag himself around but he was built like a warrior, shoulders perhaps broader than Ragnar’s, large hands rough with use, bound in leather to protect them as they pulled him along the ground. If he had been able to stand, he would have been unstoppable and Sera found herself thanking Odin for tempering what could surely have been his most fearsome creation, his most ruthless warrior, with this one weakness. The world was not yet ready for Ivar the Boneless to be unleashed.

“Father says you are a formidable opponent.”

Sera nodded once, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

“That he would hesitate to challenge you.”

“He is generous with his words.”

“Join me and my brothers tomorrow. We will go to our training grounds and practice, I should like to see what my father has produced in his absence from my life.”

***************************************************************************************************************************************************** Sera walked silently behind the one called Hvitserk, watching as he and his brothers carried Ivar on a chair out to these training grounds she’d been invited to. Her eyes scanned the terrain restlessly, alert for any danger. Ragnar had looked pleased when she’d found him this morning and told him of her invitation to join his sons. His eyes had glittered when he’d clasped her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Make me proud child, fight like I have shown you.”

They reached an area cleared, surrounded by a crude fence. There were a few stumps, some deer carcasses hanging at the opposite end and Sera rolled her shoulders as she scanned the surroundings once more before shrugging off her cloak and pulling her sword free from between her shoulder blades, giving it an experimental swing. Ragnar had presented her with this sword last year, after she’d fought bravely beside him and resisted a band of thieves that had tried to rob and kill them. She’d not asked what wealth he’d paid for the sword, had accepted it humbly, admiring it’s fine lines and perfect balance. She’d named it Shadow Sting.

Ubbe bumped her shoulder, ignoring her hiss of warning and leaned over to admire Sting. He nodded once in approval to her but made no comment, instead pulled a bow and walked over to where Ivar sat on a stump. Hvitserk and Sigurd where already sparring behind them, but Sera was curious as to the prince’s bow skills. She watched impassively as first Ubbe then Ivar struck the deer target in the head, then tilted her head curiously when Ubbe turned to her, holding his bow out, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t like bows.”

“You can’t use them?”

“I didn’t say that, I prefer not to use them.”

“Show us.” Ivar goaded and Sera stepped forward, taking the bow from Ubbe. She aimed quickly, then turned her head, fixing both princes with a withering eye as she let the arrow fly. It split Ivar’s arrow, shooting right through the deer skull to hit a tree behind with a dull thud.

Ubbe looked impressed, but Ivar looked irritated and without comment he pulled his bow again, firing an arrow between his two sparring brothers. Sera watched with growing respect as Ivar handily won against Hvitserk; even sitting he was deadly, then barely smothered a startle when Sigurd knocked the mead cup free from Ivar’s hand. She bit her lip to hide a smile when Ivar retaliated instantly, in a fashion much like she would have, and heaved an axe at Sigurd’s head.

After a few moment’s hesitation, Sigurd regained his arrogance and pointed his sword at Sera in challenge. She debated a moment then caught Ivar watching her avidly, so she dropped her axes and pulled Sting again. Without warning she attacked, flying at Sigurd like a Valkyrie and the fight was over before it began; Sera crouching over Sigurd’s chest as he lay sprawled and stunned on the ground. He was uninjured, but Sera had disarmed him easily, using his underestimation of her to her own advantage. Standing upright she extended her hand to help him stand and after a pause, he took it. When she turned Hvitserk was grinning broadly, eager to spar, feet spread and sword ready.

He did not underestimate Sera and the fight was much more even, but eventually Sera saw an opening, and Hvitserk ended up on the ground as well, Sera standing above him, Sting at his throat.

Ubbe laughed and clapped his hands and Sera turned wearily away, tired of proving herself, but the arrogant smirk on Ivar’s face goaded her into action and this time it was her who raised her sword in challenge. Ivar’s returning smile was frightening, his head lowered, eyes glaring and Sera felt a thrill of anticipation.

She did not expect an easy victory, and did not get one. They were evenly matched, moving in sync with each other, almost as if they could anticipate the other’s moves, but finally Sera made a calculatingly desperate move. She was tiring and had to throw Ivar off balance, quite literally. They rolled heavily to the ground as Sera launched herself at him, their swords flying. Sera ended up on top, straddling Ivar’s broad chest, ready to continue the fight but Ivar guffawed instead, his large hands dropping to her waist.

“Enough!” He laughed, “you win! You win!”

The princes stared in shock at their youngest brother, he had never conceded a fight like this before, had never seemed happy to lose. After a moment Ivar noticed his brother’s confusion and quickly pulled his face into his signature scowl instead. He realized he still had Sera held against him, still gripped her waist and he released her with a grunt of embarrassment. Sera stumbled to her feet and Ivar sat up, cursing his flushed cheeks.

“What are you all staring at?!” He demanded.

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