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seijorhi · 4 years

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Final Girl

Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou & Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

And please check out the incredible fanart @lausterdomyamong created for this fic here 💕💕💕

TW blood, gore, violence, minor character death, implied non-con, pregnancy mentions, nsfw

Your lungs are burning.

You haven’t run like this in years, your thighs are screaming at you for a reprieve. With every step it feels like the soles of your bare feet are splitting open but you can’t stop, not for a single second.

You can’t stop. You can’t stop.

Keep running.

It’s dark, and you can barely see.

Stumbling like newborn foal through the thick undergrowth, tripping over the roots that catch at your feet. Your legs are scratched and bleeding, and there’s a nasty scrape along your arm from where you’d fallen and tried to cushion the blow, but you shove it all down and you keep running.

You can’t hear much over the sounds of your laboured breaths and your own heartbeat hammering away inside of your ears, but you know you must be making a racket. Branches breaking, leaves crunching underfoot as you clumsily dash through the woods - keep running, keep going.

Being quiet won’t save you if they catch up.

The loud whoops and the hyena like laughter that echo out through the trees behind you spur you onwards. Faster, you have to run faster.

This is nothing but a game to them.

“Wait- wait, just stop for a sec… do you hear that?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you scoot closer to his bedroll, “Really, babe? The campfire stories weren’t enough for you? Do you not want me to sleep at all on this trip?”

There’s a teasing little grin on your face, not that your boyfriend can see it in the darkness of your tent. You expect him to laugh, grab you by the waist and pull you under him - make some quip about his wicked intentions of not letting you sleep a wink, but he doesn’t.

He stiffens, pushing himself back upright onto his palms, head cocked to the side like a dog listening for the faintest hint whisper of a sound.

“Babe-”

“Shh!” he hisses, and it’s more shock than anything else that has your mouth falling shut. His hand reaches across to grab yours in the darkness and he squeezes it just once. An apology maybe, or a reassurance that you’re still there with him. “Can you hear that? I think… I think there’s someone out there.”

You swallow uneasily, goosebumps prickling at your skin. If this is part of some stupid joke, you’re gonna kick him out of this tent and make him bunk with his friends for the rest of the trip. He’s never been one for mean spirited pranks, but this is freaking you out.

“It’s probably just one of the guys-” or an animal, or the wind, or his own overactive imagination. You guys are out in the middle of the woods after all.

“I’m gonna go out and check,” he whispers, pulling his hand from yours and pressing a quick kiss against your cheek. “Stay here.”

There’s a road, a long stretch of winding highway that you’d driven along for what felt like hours when you’d first arrived with your friends. There’s no possible way for you to know if you’re going in the right direction, but if you can just make it there, then-

The thick scent of smoke invades your nose and for you falter - just for a split second - searching for the source. There, maybe two hundred yards away to your left, you spot the orange glow flickering between the trees and your stomach lurches.

Dark figures flit through the clearing, maybe a dozen of them, half illuminated by the bonfire. You can hear their laughter, the shouts and drunken revelry as they party the night away. They don’t have a care in the world, and why should they? Real monsters belong in horror movies and scary stories, not lurking in the shadows of the woods.

Leave them.

The vicious thought takes you by surprise, but for one awful moment, you consider it. The promise of fresh new toys to rip apart and break, drunk and blissfully unaware, surely that would be enough to tempt them away. You’re just one girl…

(The truth, the one that sits heavy in your stomach, whispers that you know better than to believe they’ll ever let you get away.)

Your heart pounds against your ribs, your legs unwittingly slowing down. You don’t have time for indecision; it’s them or you.

If leaving them to the wolves meant that you walked away from this, if you could make it back home-

There’s a shout, a scream that rips through the crisp autumn night before it cuts off with an abrupt gurgle. A loud thud followed by a laugh you don’t recognise - one that sends a chill running down your spine. More voices, more screams. Footsteps and a splatter of something dark and viscous against the side of your tent.

There’s a hoot and a chuckle, closer this time, and you hear a sob that’s all too familiar. Pleading.

Your friend begging for her life.

“Shh, shh, shhh. Aw c’mon sweetheart, don’t be like that.”

Another hiccuping sob. “Please… p-please I don’t wanna die…”

“Kuroo-”

There’s a petulant huff, a loud voice interjecting, “s’no fun when they’re just sitting there.”

Kneeling frozen in your tent with one hand clamped tightly over your mouth to stifle your own terrified cries, you squeeze your eyes shut, not daring to draw breath.

Somebody sighs - the first one, you think. “Y’know, I think Bokuto has a point… Do you like games, sweetheart?”

There’s no response - at least not one that you can hear - but she must have nodded, because the voice continues, “Glad to hear it! Tell you what, we’re gonna play a little game, and if you win, we’ll let you go! Sounds fair, right?”

“We’ll even give you a headstart, just cause we’re nice guys! Whad'ya reckon ‘Kaashi? A minute? Two?”

There’s a short silence, filled only by the sounds of her ragged whimpering. “Two,” the second one - ‘Kaashi - decides. His voice is deadpan, smooth, cold and blunt, but there’s an underlying current of something excitable - the barest hint that he’s not quite as disinterested as he sounds. “She won’t get away.”

No.

You veer, sprinting towards the camp.

The others died while you hid like a fucking coward, too scared to do anything to help them (it wouldn’t have made a difference, but you should have tried) you can’t do this again.

You can only imagine how you must look, a strange woman sprinting out of the woods, barefoot, your nightgown torn and filthy, blood streaking your skin. You can pinpoint the moment that they catch sight of you, one of the guys doing a double take and jerking so badly he almost falls off the log he’s perched on. “What the fuck?!”

Another turns, eyes wide and gaping, “Dude, she’s fucking pre-”

“RUN!” you bellow, just in time to see an axe arc through the air beside you and embed itself smack bang in the centre of his skull with a sickening thud.

“Now that’s a bullseye!” Bokuto hollers, maybe thirty feet behind you and gaining quickly. “Didja see that, Akaashi?”

Screams erupt from the other campers, scrambling frantically to their feet as their friend collapses lifelessly to the ground, blood still spurting gruesomely from his wound.

“Don’t go gettin’ cocky now, the night’s still young,” Kuroo drawls, swinging his baseball bat - the dark wood flecked with dried blood, rusted nails crudely hammered through the barrel - experimentally through the air a few times. “And last I counted, I was still two up on you.”

There’s no time to humour the fear that rips through you like wildfire. You grab the nearest camper - a girl not much older than yourself, staring wide eyed and trembling at the body in front of her - and yank her forward with you. “Run,” you hiss again.

The others scatter, drunk and clumsy - a split second too slow.

A boot lands on the fallen tree stump, its owner springing gracefully over it. Akaashi’s machete gleams in the moonlight, sweeping gracefully like an extension of his arm as he slices downwards. Blood sprays, drenching his front, and another body falls to the ground - this one missing half a face.

It’s brutal. Chaotic.

Ruthless.

You can’t look back, you can’t help them. The girl is screaming at you, yelling words you can’t hear, trying fruitlessly to tug her wrist out of your grip, but you don’t relent. You don’t slow down, not even as dread fills your stomach and tears burn unshed in your eyes. You can’t help the others - not as Kuroo’s bat comes swinging out of the darkness, tearing flesh and muscle from bone, not when Bo yanks his axe from his victim’s head with a foot planted on his chest, immediately giving chase to another with a wild grin, not when Akaashi’s machete, slick with blood, cuts through her friends like butter - but you can save her.

Just one person-

“Kitten, come back and play!” Kuroo shouts after you with a sickeningly fond chuckle.

- so long as you don’t stop running.

The camp is eerily quiet, even the crickets have stopped. You have no idea how long ago they left to hunt down your friend, how long you’ve sat, sobbing in silence, too scared to breathe, waiting to see if they’d come back.

Your friends are dead. Your boyfriend is dead.

You don’t realise how badly you’re shaking until you try and move - almost falling flat on your face when your arms give out. They’re gone, but every noise, no matter how muted, feels deafening and you try not to flinch as you drag yourself towards the mouth of the tent. You don’t have time to prepare yourself for the carnage waiting for you across the camp ground, you can’t think about the fact that people you love have been torn apart and murdered while you cowered away frozen in fear.

The grip you have on your emotions, your sanity, is fragile, but in your terrified hysteria, you understand one very important thing - they could come back at any moment, and you cannot be here when that happens.

You cannot stop and cry for your friends, you cannot afford to break down when you see their bodies hacked up and scattered around you - you won’t even look - you just have to take the car keys fisted in your right hand, get to your boyfriend’s truck and get the fuck away from this nightmare as quickly as those wheels can take you.

Crawling on your hands and knees you slowly pry open the tent flap, biting your lip and wincing at the quiet hiss of the zipper.

The cold night air hits you like a slap in the face, but it’s nothing compared to the overwhelming coppery tang of blood that settles on the tip of your tongue as you breathe it in. You bite down on your whimper, squeezing your eyes shut and forcing your leaden limbs to move - you can’t afford to stop now, you have to get away.

You won’t look, you won’t look, you won’t-

“I was wondering when you’d finally show yourself.”

Ice douses your system, your heart lurching. Your eyes shoot open, darting towards the source of the voice - there, leaning calmly against the thick trunk of a tree only a few feet away from you is a man. Tall and slender, with dark hair and delicate features, you’d probably go so far as to call him pretty if it wasn’t for the blood splattered garishly across his pale skin and the teasing grin tugging at his lips.

Absolute terror renders you helpless as he pushes away from the tree and takes a single, calculated step towards you. “Kuroo and Bokuto won’t be long, they’re just finishing up with your friend.” His pretty smirk widens as your eyes well up with tears and a gasping sob finally rips its way free from your chest, “but I don’t think they’ll mind if we get started without them.”

You’re following the well trodden path, praying to god that it’ll lead you back to the road, to any kind of safety. The shouts and screams behind you died out a few minutes ago, but you can’t let yourself think about what that means - it’ll only slow you down and you’re so close.

“Wait, wait, stop! We ha-have to go back!” the girl cries, trying once again to pull you to a stop. “My friends-”

“I’m sorry,” you pant, glancing across at her - and you are. Her eyes are wide and terrified, swimming in a pain you know all too well. It’s selfish and cruel, and it’ll tear her apart just like it has you, but if you let her go now… “It’s too late for them, we need to keep-”

“Baby, you know you can’t hide from us!”

Bokuto. Your heart seizes just as the girl shrieks, and you risk a glance over your shoulder, slowing just a faction.

They’re closing in, all three of them, less than twenty yards away.

Panic and desperation bite at your nerves - you can’t let them catch you, not now, not when you’re almost free. But your body is aching, your muscles on fire and your stamina is shot to pieces. You’re on your last legs and they know it. They don’t even have to run anymore, they’ve worn you down completely - it’s a miracle you’re still standing.

And it’s childish and petulant, but you just want to scream and cry and yell and beat your fists against the ground because it’s not fucking fair!

You were so close.

Your grip around her wrist slackens just a touch, and the girl takes the opportunity to rip her hand free from yours. You expect her to run, to flee like a bat out of hell and leave you crumpled in the dust, but instead she turns to you with a withering glare, “This is all your fault. You brought them here. You did this.”

The accusation hits you like a slap, but before you can even open your mouth to protest (she’s not wrong, you know she’s not wrong) she grabs you by the shoulders and with all the strength she has left, shoves you back in the path of your pursuers. You stumble from the force of the blow, not expecting it, and for a moment you feel yourself start to fall, instinctively curling in on yourself to protect your belly-

Strong arms catch you before you can hit the ground, pulling you against a warm, muscular chest. “Gotcha,” Kuroo breathes, his tongue darting out to lick at the blood splattered across your cheek.

Vaguely, you register Bokuto’s low, furious growl as he launches forward, his axe raised high. The sharp, piercing screams are cut off quickly - violently - as he buries it in her neck with a snarl. He swings again and her head tumbles clean off to bounce across the forest floor, but he keeps going, swinging again and again and again until her body is nothing but a bloody, mangled mess for the animals to scavenge.

Your vision blurs, and it takes you a moment to realise that it’s tears welling up in your eyes as Kuroo’s hands run up and down your sides, drifting protectively across the gentle swell of your stomach. “You did good, kitten,” he coos, Akaashi and Bokuto coming up either side of you. “But it’s time to come home now, don’tcha think?”

A hand cups your cheek, drawing you to meet Akaashi’s twisted, lovesick expression, “Gotta reward our pretty little girl for playing her role so well,” he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking the delicate skin.

“Maybe we can fuck another kid into her,” Bokuto adds with a grin, his previous rage all but forgotten, sated along with his bloodlust thanks to the butchered corpse lying a few yard away. His golden eyes, half lidded and burning with lust, flicker across your face for just a moment, drinking in every last drop of crushing defeat and despair before his lips crash down on yours in a savage, bloody kiss.

This was nothing but a game to them - one you never had a chance in hell of winning.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere akaashi x reader #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere kuroo #yandere akaashi #yandere bokuto #tw blood #tw violence #tw gore #tw implied noncon #tw murder #my writing #tw pregnancy #hhhh it's 4:45 i hope y'all are happy #i'mma go sleep now

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satendou · 4 years

Text

⟼ monster

⍣ all time low series | next | 1/4

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: tendo/reader

⇢ au: atl!au, college!au

⇢ summary: you like horror movies, tendou likes horror movies, what could go wrong?

⇥ masterlist

⇢ warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, mentions of bullying, insecurities, piercings, cursing

⇢ word count: 13.2k

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: i think this is the biggest fic i’ve ever written and it’s one of my favorites, if not my absolute favorite i’ve written so far. it was kinda hard to write it in a way that stayed true to my vision for it but also didn’t make it childish, so i hope i succeeded in that regard. as always, thank you to @keijiskitten for editing this!

“Oh, come on, ‘Kaashi,” you said, setting your hand on your hip. You were standing around in the middle of the classroom with him and a few others, waiting for your professor to show up who was no doubt getting a coffee from the overflowing Starbucks down the street. Class would be half over before he finally arrived. “It’s just a few scary movies.”

“Sorry, _____. I have to study and I just know that trying to watch movies with you and study is gonna be a nightmare,” he said, giving you a sympathetic look. “And give me nightmares.”

You rolled your eyes and looked around to Bokuto, who was scrolling through his phone while he chatted with Yaku about the next practice. That was a hard no. Poor Bo would agree without complaint and wind up with nightmares for a week, clinging to you throughout the night. Catching Akaashi’s eye, you exchanged knowing looks and chuckles.

“Hey, _____,” Semi said from your other side. He was busy filling out a music sheet with notes for his next possible song, and the way he said your name indicated he was more focused on that than your quandary.

Still, you turned to look at him over your shoulder, quirking your eyebrow at him. When he didn’t immediately continue, you prompted him. “What’s up?”

“Oh, right,” he said, looking up from the paper. He gave you a small smile and tapped the tip of his pencil on the desk in a smooth rhythm, leaving small marks all over the surface. “You should see if Tendo wants to join you. He’s really into horror movies too.”

“Um, who?”

Semi’s eyes widened in surprise and he pointed over his shoulder. You could hear Akaashi snicker from your other side. The chair on Semi’s other side tipped back on its back legs, and a man with close-cut red hair peeked around his back, waving cheekily at you.

“Hi, name’s Tendo Satori. I’ve only been hanging around you for about two weeks now,” he said and, though he sounded lighthearted and jovial about it, you could see the way his eyes remained narrowed, scrutinizing you. And he didn’t look impressed.

You flushed bright red, realizing you did know him but had never committed his name to memory. Mostly because he hadn’t ever really said anything to you or seemed interested in you at all.

“I-- well, I’m sorry,” you offered awkwardly. But you meant it, at least. You felt a bit bad now that he was in your face. Trying to lighten the mood, you joked, “I’m _____ _____ and my brain space is committed to horror movies and studying. No space for names I’m afraid.”

Semi rolled his eyes and Akaashi heaved a long-suffering sigh, covering his eyes with his hand, but Tendo laughed at your stupid joke. His eyes eased up, his smile relaxing, and he now looked genuinely interested.

“A horror movie marathon, huh? I’m interested. Why don’t you tell me more?”

Tendo didn’t actually expect it to go his way. As with most other people, he was sure you were just faking your enthusiasm and would flake out once you were free of him.

And yet when lunch rolled around and your group of friends were standing in the breezeway, shivering as you tried to pick out some place to go and eat off campus, you fell into step beside him.

“I really am sorry for not knowing who you were,” you offered, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and slipping a pair of gloves on. “Could we, maybe--”

He cut you off, grinning. “Forgiven and forgotten, _____.”

Hesitantly, you smiled back. He was strange, to be sure. Even though you hadn’t really had a true conversation with him yet, you got the feeling he was different, eccentric and unpredictable maybe. The way he harassed the shit out of Semi and some of the others was hysterical, though. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was that made you feel that way, but it wasn’t bad. You were even a little curious.

“Okay cool. So if, by chance, we were to do this movie marathon, how would you feel about cannibals?” you asked, tapping your chin thoughtfully. It was a theme you had been thinking about for a while, but none of your friends were into horror movies much, let alone a dozen or so movies centered around such a gory theme.

Tendo clicked his tongue and you heard a strange clink. “Hypothetically, right?”

“Right,” you said, your eyes zeroed in on his mouth, waiting for him to speak again.

He hummed, his lips curling in thought and his eyes narrowing as he stared off in the distance. Second in height only to Bokuto, he towered over everyone even though the two of you walked together at the back of the group. Speaking of Bokuto, you could hear him over the chatter of the other students around you, talking about the diner just a block away from the school and guessed that that was where you were going.

Then he shrugged. “That sounds rad. What’re you thinking? Hypothetically.”

“Well, obviously gotta go with The Hills Have Eyes. I mean, it’s a classic. And then of course Wrong Turn because there’s so many of those. And, uh…that’s all I have, but that’s literally like 8 movies and if we get past those I don’t know what we’ll do,” you said, weaving through the throngs of people on the sidewalk. You had forgotten you had been trying to see what was in his mouth just a few minutes ago as you avoided toes. You could see the diner sign up ahead, reading “Newly Opened” and a list of menu items, but it was otherwise obscured from your view.

A gasp from Tendo startled you and you whipped around to look at him, only to find him staring at you in disbelief.

He had to fight the laugh in his chest from coming up at the wide-eyed, freaked out look on your face as he said, “I cannot believe you’ve forgotten the most classic of classic cannibal movies, _____. How could you forget The Texas Chainsaw Massacre movies?”

Relief mingled with amusement on your face when you realized what he was getting at, and you covered your mouth as you laughed. Putting on your best ashamed expression, you closed your eyes. “I can’t believe I forgot those. I’m such a fake fan.”

“Kicked out of the club for sure,” he said, holding the door open for you. The bustle of the diner drowned out anything more Tendo said as you followed the others towards a large table in the back corner. After that, you were seated between Semi and Akaashi and the conversation was halted.

For the time being.

You didn’t bring up the marathon again, though you snagged Tendo’s number the day after you went to the diner. The conversation started out about movies and morphed into other topics like majors, highschools, how he knew Eita and how you had met Bokuto and Akaashi, amongst others. It left Tendo in a bit of confusion. The two of you kept up a steady stream of communication throughout the day, even sneaking in texts during classes that could net you extra work or pop quizzes. And yet never once was the marathon mentioned.

Part of him was bummed because he had kind of been looking forward to the movies, but the larger part of him was unsurprised. Something like that was way too intimate, and for someone like you to want to do something like that with a-- someone like him was too much to hope for. He was just happy that you weren’t avoiding him like most others did; he wasn’t going to ask for more.

Except he kind of did want more, and he didn’t want to feel that. The disappointment was already tangible on his tongue and he swallowed it down every time he saw you in the hall, chatting or laughing with someone else. It would ease slightly when you would turn to look in his direction, flashing a smile and waving as you passed by. In class, you started sitting beside him, Bokuto and Akaashi often following behind, and he found his small group of friends growing because of you. Bokuto was loud and brash and treated him like they were best friends, and Akaashi’s quiet demeanor reminded him a lot of Ushijima. Except he was maybe a little more expressive.

You even started walking home with him, parting ways when you had to go in different directions with a soft smile and a shine in your eyes that he tried not to read too much into. He enjoyed those days, when no one else was around and he just talked. You even knew some of the manga he read, and he lost himself rambling about Jump. When he brought it up once, about how he talked too much, you shook your head frantically.

“No, no, I don’t mind! It reminds me of Bokuto, to be honest. He can talk about anything and keep a conversation going so easily. I’m kinda jealous,” you said, giving him that satisfied smile again.

He tried to clamp down on the feelings, to keep a tight rein on the emotions that kept trying to pull his eyes in your direction anytime he heard your voice or drew his thoughts to you late at night.

Sighing, he rubbed his eyes, frustrated at the fact that he was thinking of you a-fuckin’-gain. Didn’t he have enough to worry about without wondering what you thought of him? He already knew. You weren’t interested. It was fine.

His phone dinged, the screen lighting up to reveal your name and a text.

You: ‘watcha up to?’ Tendo: ‘nm. studying and suffering. you?’ Y: ‘“studying” sksks what’re you doing tomorrow night by chance?’

Tendo’s heart stuttered in his chest and he groaned, barely resisting the urge to fling his phone out the frost covered window in front of him. For the love of god, could the universe stop fucking with him? Clicking his tongue, he considered telling you he was busy. It would be easiest, and save him the disappointment that was sure to accompany whatever you had planned.

But his fingers were traitorous and typed out exactly what he didn’t want to say. Or so he told himself.

T: ‘nothin. what’re you thinkin?’ Y: ‘well...i’m thinkin about cannibals’

Tendou snorted at that and watched the three little dots appear again.

Y: ‘and u’

He choked and slammed his phone down on the desk, wincing and immediately picking it back up to check the damage. No, no way, he wouldn’t look at it like that. It wasn’t like that. You were just inviting him for the movie marathon in a totally platonic way.

Another message came in.

Y: ‘and me’

You were actually trying to kill him.

He could think of nothing the next day but how much he was looking forward to that night. Once he had finally gotten his shit together enough to text you back, the kinks had been worked out. It was almost a no brainer that he would be spending the night. A movie marathon with twelve movies meant an all-nighter, if the two of you could pull it off. He would go home after classes, while away the few hours until around six o’clock, and then head to the address you had given him.

Unfortunately, he didn’t see much of you that day. You shared no classes, and you had a class when he took lunch, so he ate with Semi and Bokuto that day. Instead you snuck texts to him when you could, mostly talking about how excited you were for that night. It didn’t help, somehow both fanning and soothing his inner turmoil.

“Why do you look like you’re gonna throw up?” Semi asked at last. Tendo was staring at his half-eaten chicken sandwich like it had mortally offended him, and he was curious.

Tendo jumped, having forgotten the other two were even with him, and shook his head. “Uh, nothin’.”

But Bokuto snickered and leaned in to whisper to Semi, who was already suspicious of his short, clipped answer. Whether he actually wanted to whisper or not, Tendo wasn’t sure, but Bo sure as shit didn’t manage it. “Him and _____ are gonna watch movies tonight.”

Of course you had told Bokuto. And probably Akaashi too. He wondered if they had changed their minds and decided to join you when they found out. It put a rather annoying feeling in his chest, like someone was squeezing his heart.

The other two were still talking in a loud whisper, watching Tendo’s expression shift and flicker through a myriad of emotions. Bokuto was lost, but Semi could recognize them after so many years of knowing the moody red-head, and wanted to laugh. He was so good at hiding his negative emotions, but when it came to sadness or happiness, he was like an open book. And he was being pretty obvious right then.

“Wow, that’s pretty big, Tendo,” he said, watching his friend closely. Tendo flinched, shrinking into his hoodie, and Semi nodded to himself. “Don’t let yourself get so worked up. She wouldn’t ask if she didn’t want to.”

He knew where Tendo’s insecurities were coming from. A childhood fraught with bullies and fake friends and people pretending they wanted him around only to treat him like a freak. Even through highschool it was that way, with a particularly nasty incident involving a girl pretending to want to date him that ended with Tendo refusing to come to school for almost a week. After that, he kept to himself and the volleyball club, refusing to even acknowledge that anyone else might actually want to get to know him seriously.

It had gotten a bit easier when he left Shiratorizawa and those memories and most of those people behind. Growing up with them was what had made it hardest, so surrounding himself with fresh people who didn’t have any preconceived notions and rumors about him had allowed him to open up a little. Even Ushijima, across the ocean in California, noticed a marked difference in Tendo’s demeanor.

Semi just hoped you didn’t do anything to send him spiralling back into his insecurities.

“Yeah, I guess.”

It was easy for Semi to say that, but he had no idea what it was like, constantly worrying if people were being serious or if they were just waiting to pull the rug out from under him. Even now, he was fighting with himself to just get through the day, waiting constantly for you to change your mind and cancel the plans. Every time his phone lit up with your name, he expected it.

And yet, even after his classes ended and he arrived home, you didn’t. Just commenting that you would be MIA for a while while you cleaned the apartment and went to the store. And when you came back a few hours later, while he was binging Buzzfeed Unsolved videos, his heart leapt into his throat, but you were only telling him what you had gotten for him and to pick up anything else he might want on the way over.

The time couldn’t pass by fast enough while he busied himself packing as slowly as he could. He was already wearing sweatpants but brought a pair of basketball shorts just in case. A clean t-shirt and the other essential items he would need for the night went into a backpack, and when that was done he decided it was a good time to leave.

Unable to help himself, he sent you a text before he left, interrupting whatever you were already typing, the three little bubbles disappearing for a moment while you read his text.

T: ‘you sure you’re alright with this? i don’t have to come over’ Y: ‘?’ Y: ‘do u not want to!’ Y: ‘?*’ Y: ‘we can do this another time if you want’

He was typing before he could really think about the possibility that that might be the best option, his heart thumping harder than he liked in his chest, and he willed himself to take a deep breath. It was just two friends hanging out, watching horror movies together. Nothing more.

T: ‘no i do. was just making sure you were still ok w it.’ T: ‘leaving now to get snacks. your choices s u c k’ Y: ofc hurry up and get over here Y: ‘tf rude’

Locking the door behind him, he slung his bag onto his shoulder and sighed, hoping the night didn’t end as badly as his nerves were telling him it would.

Your doorbell rang an hour later, while you were in the middle of setting up your room for the binge. You were hoping he wouldn’t mind, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either. It was hard to miss the nervousness and the way he seemed to shy away from you sometimes, especially when you did certain things like reach out to pull something off his hoodie or read something over his shoulder. But you wanted this to be as normal as possible, to prove to him you were genuine.

You liked Tendo. A lot.

He was funny and sweet and just as eccentric as you had expected. His jokes were off-color but not offensive, just sarcastic and witty and you giggled every time. The way his face lit up when he heard you sent your heart into a frenzy, and the way it fell and he seemed to shrink into himself a moment later hurt. It didn't feel like a rejection of you but instead a rejection of himself and you wondered if there was any way to help him understand that you didn’t want anything from him but for him to be himself.

Upon opening the door, you found it was only the pizza delivery man, and you smiled with disappointment, until you spotted a shaved red-head coming up behind him.

Tendo gulped when he spotted you in your open doorway, wearing woolen leggings and a t-shirt, exchanging a box of pizza for cash and smiling brightly at him over the man’s shoulder. Waving, he waited until the stranger was out of the way before he approached you.

“Hey,” he greeted, peering down at you before scanning the empty living room of your apartment over your head.

You were unsurprised to see the wariness in his eyes, bleeding into the smile he was forcing on his face. It was your first time seeing a look so fake on him and for the first time you wondered if this was really a good idea. But it was only movies. And you liked Tendo. It would be fine.

So you smiled and ushered him in with one hand, the box perched precariously on your other, and watched him shrink into himself like he always did when he came within touching distance of you until he had passed into the living room. Then he just stood there, peering around with that same suspicious look, eyes narrowed and mouth turned down at the corners.

“So, what do you think?” you asked, pretending you hadn’t seen it as you moved into the kitchen.

“It’s nice,” he answered, letting his bag hit the floor with a thump. The rest of the apartment was silent save for the heater going, and little by little he felt himself relaxing. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble for little ol’ me, y’know.”

You giggled at the way he pointed at himself, wearing a cheesy grin as he walked into the kitchen. “Maybe not, but it’s been ages since I’ve been able to do anything like this. It’s as much for me as it is for you.” You punctuated your statement by poking him lightly in the chest, and he feigned pain.

“You wound me. And here I thought you were treating me special,” he moaned, leaning back against the counter and placing his hand over his forehead. He grinned a little hearing you giggle again, and then the pizza box hit his arm.

“I am treating you special, you goof,” you said, opening it up and letting the smell of cheese fill the kitchen. “With pizza. But I think we’d better take it into the bedroom, since that’s where we’ll be watching the movies. Just in case we fall asleep, you know,” you tacked on at the end, suddenly realizing how that might sound. Not that it meant anything, but again, you feared making him uncomfortable.

Absorbed in your thoughts, you missed the faint dusting of pink on his cheeks, clashing marvelously with his vibrant hair. You carried the box down to your bedroom with Tendo on your heels, eager to see your room. It was about what he expected from you-- a messy bed, a cluttered desk, clothes half in your laundry basket and half on the floor surrounding it. The TV sitting on your dresser was already set up with The Hills Have Eyes menu playing, volume muted. You set the box on the bed before smoothing the covers and crawling on.

Tendo hovered in the middle of your room, casting his eyes around nervously, looking for a chair or something to sit on. He definitely did not want to assume, but you patted the bed beside you, giving him a quizzical look.

“I’m not gonna bite, Tendo. Promise,” you said, and though you made it sound like a joke he could hear a line of seriousness at the core. Running his tongue over the back of his teeth, he walked slowly towards you, giving you every opportunity to change your mind, but you just looked impatient until he climbed on beside you. “Alright, now let’s get this started!”

Two movies in and the two of you had gotten pretty comfortable. Both of you had stretched out on the bed, but you had decided to lean up against the headboard with your pillows to support you while Tendo had opted to lay on his stomach with his head resting on his arms by your feet.

“Would you stop?” he laughed, pushing your foot away where it had been tapping incessantly at his shoulder. You were just doing it to annoy him, and you giggled at the irritated amusement in his voice.

The pizza box sat empty on the floor by the bed, but you found yourself craving something else to eat. When you hummed, Tendo looked away from the screen, rolling onto his side and propping his chin in his hand to watch you nibble at your lip. It was cute, he couldn’t lie, and the anxiety he had repressed by getting distracted by the movie came back slowly.

“What’s up?”

“I’m thinkin’ about...those chips,” you answered, and made to get up. You had to crawl over his long legs and almost fell off the bed as you gracelessly made your move, knee slipping off the small space between his leg and the edge of the mattress. Sticking your tongue out as he laughed at you, you pranced towards the door.

“Bring my bags too, would you?” he called, pausing the movie since you had forgotten. It had just started, and you were lucky that he was nice enough to do it, especially when he heard your voice carry back down the hallway.

“Kiss my ass, Tendo.”

He laughed at that, loud enough that you could hear it from the kitchen and over the crinkling of the bags as you rifled through them. In the end, you shrugged and carried them all back down to your room, along with a few drinks. Maybe you wouldn’t have to get up again for a little while.

You shivered when you stepped back into the room. It wasn’t much warmer than the rest of the house, and now your arms and toes were cold. The heater was already set as high as it would go and hardly touched the chill, and you cursed the cheap piece of crap.

“What, you cold?” he asked, pulling out a bag of the chips he had brought with him. The tab on a can of soda popped and he cursed as it fizzed over onto your blanket. “Shit, sorry.”

“No worries. Yeah, kinda. But the heater is already on full blast. Ugh,” you said, sitting beside him on the bed again. He was still wearing his hoodie, and up close he was warm, making you realize just how cold you were. You were just gonna have to crawl under your blankets because you would never survive the cold like that. “Wait…”

There was a tent on the screen where the movie had paused, and Tendo looked back and forth from it to you with curiosity. There was a calculating look on your face and he wasn’t sure he liked it. “Uh, what?”

There was no way he would agree to it. Way too intimate, right? But it really seemed like it’d be right up his alley, and it would be fun to build, and it would get you warm. It was the perfect idea really.

“Tendo, how do you feel about making...a pillow fort?”

The heater continued to buzz in the corner, overlaid by the slight static from the TV, while Tendo processed your question. His mouth had fallen open, brows furrowed while he stared at you in what could only be surprise, and you laughed nervously.

“Wha-- Seriously?”

“Um, you know what, nevermind. I guess it was a stupid idea. It just seemed like it might be fun and--”

He cut your babbling off with an excited wave of his arms, leaning forward into your space and in the light from the TV you could see a childlike happiness glowing in his eyes. “I’ve never made one but it sounds like fun. You know how to do it?”

Stunned by the turn of events, you nodded. “Well, sort of. Mine have always fallen down after a while though,” you admitted, standing up from the bed again. “We need chairs and books and all the blankets and pillows we can find. And the couch cushions. Probably.”

In no time flat you had everything gathered, with Tendou hovering around waiting for you to direct him. It was a pain to get everything set up, and you ended up using the bed since you didn’t have enough chairs. Moving the chairs all over the place until there was enough room inside and you could put the books down to seal the ‘walls’ was tedious, but it was worth it when Tendo crawled in to set up the cushions to seal the space beneath the bed. After padding the floor with several blankets to lay on, you stuffed the pillows from your bed in after Tendo. When you didn’t immediately crawl in after him, he poked his head out to see what you were doing.

“Well, we didn’t think this through at all, so now we gotta watch the movies on my laptop,” you said as you ejected the DVD from your player. The jingle of your computer booting up played and backlit your face in the glow, and you prayed it wasn’t going to go right into an update. It took a few minutes to start up, so you passed it to him while you plugged the power cord in and ran it into the fort.

You could hear the clicking of the mousepad and by the time you flipped off the light and crawled in beside Tendo, the movie menu was playing. You also realized just how cramped it really was with Tendo’s lanky form inside. There was just enough space for both of you, but you were going to have to either sit up with it in your lap or you were going to have to set it to the side of you and lay on your sides.

He was tense, staring determinedly at the movie playing and trying to avoid moving too much. Or so you guessed, anyway. Anytime you so much as shifted he would jerk away before relaxing, and you were a split second away from nixing the idea. A part of you was starting to wonder if it wasn’t you that was the problem, but if it was, why had he bothered to agree?

“You’re really warm, Tendo,” you said, trying to break the ice. It was an awkward and clumsy attempt, but maybe you could help him settle down if you showed him you weren’t uncomfortable first?

But that just made him pull further away, leaning against the couch cushions. “Oh, sorry.”

It was already warm and comfortable in your little fort, a light blanket thrown over your knees and warming your toes. And with him beside you, you were actually a little more than comfortable. “No,” you said, waving your hands frantically, “no, like, it’s nice. I’m finally warm.”

It was hard to tell in the washed out light of the laptop, but Tendo’s face turned a very bright shade of pink. He tugged the neck of his hoodie up over his nose and fixed his eyes firmly on the flickering violence, annoyed that he was overwhelmed by something so simple. Why did you have to be so damn cute?

But it did the trick, even if he didn’t know that was your intention. He finally relaxed and stopped flinching every time you shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. Sitting cross legged only worked for so long and Tendo noticed you moving around after a while, when your knee knocked his for the third or fourth time.

“You alright? You’re about to bring the whole fort down,” he commented around a mouthful of chips.

“Ah, well, my back is starting to hurt sitting up, I guess. I wanna lay down,” you said, sounding whinier than you meant to, following it up with a short stretch. It alleviated the pain for a moment, until you hunched over again.

He swallowed his chips and returned his eyes to the TV screen, thinking. On one hand, he wasn’t exactly comfortable. On the other, he had no idea what you were thinking. Did you want to abandon the fort?

But you didn’t say anything, fiddling with the blanket for a few moments as you tried to work up your courage. You damn sure didn’t want to tear down your fort-- it had taken you way too long to put the stupid thing up-- and if you said the idea of cuddling up with Tendo wasn’t appealing, you would surely go to hell for lying. The underlying problem was him. What would he say if you brought up the obvious solution?

You were taking too long to answer, so Tendo prompted you, pausing the movie. “Do you want to just get back on the bed again?”

“No,” you said, and then flinched. You had answered way too quickly and that somehow made him nervous and reassured at the same time. “This is really nice I just…I-know-that-you’re-kind-of-uncomfortable-and-I-don’t-want-to-make-you-more-uncomfortable.”

Tendou stared at you, unblinking as he tried to decipher your breathlessly rushed words. After a moment he laughed, still confused, but he could see the anxiety on your face. “I-- what? All I heard was uncomfortable, I think. But you don’t make me uncomfortable.”

Your heart thumped painfully in your chest as that weight left your shoulders. He was so intuitive it was almost scary. Even still, you had to make sure. “Oh, really? You always seem like...weird around me, I guess. I was starting to think I was pushing too hard, I guess?”

“Sorry,” he said, scratching the back of his head. His elbow brushed the sheet above you and he quickly dropped it. “I’m used to people being uncomfortable around me. Guess it just turned into a habit to avoid people I don’t know. So that I don’t freak them out.”

Not entirely true, given that he enjoyed messing with people, but it was true in your* case. It took you a moment to answer, and he started to worry that he had said too much.

“You don’t...make me uncomfortable, Tendo. You never did. You’re a weirdo but not...in a bad way,” you said, and glanced at him to gauge his reaction, worried he would take it in a negative light.

But he was smiling, eyes fixed on the paused movie and you bit your lip. He was way too attractive and you couldn’t fathom anyone who thought otherwise. Clearly they were just cowards.

“Well that’s a relief. It would make things pre-tty awkward right now if I did,” he said and bumped your shoulder. It felt like a whole planet was lifted off his shoulders with this revelation and he heaved a huge sigh. “So, if we don’t want to abandon the fort but our backs are about to crumble, what do we do?”

“Uh.” You blanched, having forgotten about that little hiccup. Your idea was embarrassing to think about let alone explain and if you hadn’t made him uncomfortable yet this was sure to.

“Uh,” he mocked, and twisted around like a snake so his face was in front of you, blocking the light from the screen. “Spit it out before we collapse.”

“Just-- um--” you stuttered, and he quickly realized whatever your idea was, it had you flustered. He was just about to start teasing when you picked up the laptop and set it to the side of you. Rolling over onto your side, you tucked your hand underneath your pillow and relaxed, feeling the pain immediately alleviate. “Now you lay down. If you want.”

Your heart was racing in your chest, waiting for him to do something. It was a long, long minute before he finally said anything, and it wasn’t what you expected. Not that you had any idea of what to expect.

“Uh, are you sure? I mean, we could just--” What was he thinking? This was exactly what he wanted and wasn’t it Semi who had said she wouldn’t ask if she didn’t want it? Did he really have to overthink everything? You were in a literal pillow fort watching scary movies with him, offering to let him cuddle up with you, and he still thought you weren’t sure.

“Well, unless you aren’t,” you said, and was that disappointment in your voice? No way.

“No no, no. I’m gonna take my hoodie off first, though. It’s way too warm in here now,” he said, backtracking quickly. Then again, maybe it was just him that was too hot. It was an actual dream come true, and he pinched himself quickly just to make sure he wasn’t asleep.

You rolled over onto your back to watch him struggle, his arms brushing the ceiling and walls of your warm little haven as he fought the hoodie. Your eyes widened as it finally came free, seeing the colorful swirls of ink covering his arms. “Holy shit.”

“Wha--?” he said, and turned to find you staring open mouthed at his tattoos. “Oh, right, I guess you haven’t seen these before, huh?”

“Nope,” you said, sitting up and squinting to see the undefined shapes in the faint light. It was almost cute the way he held his arm out to you hesitantly, like a child offering you a drawing to examine and praise. Taking it, you traced the lines covering his smooth, warm skin, trying to figure out what they were. But the shapes were undefinable in the faint light. You could make out splashes of blue and purple, red and pink, separated by black lines or faded together to make something. Part of you wanted to ask, but there was something mysterious about not knowing. “I can’t even tell what they are but god, Tendou, I know they’re gorgeous.”

He shivered at your featherlight touches, the feel of your fingers skimming delicately over his skin, and your words caused fire to erupt in his stomach and chest. His tattoos were something he was extremely proud of, one of the few things he had that made him feel confident, and hearing you compliment them made him feel so fucking good. Chucking his jacket out into the room, he returned to your side and the two of you got comfortable.

Pressing play on the movie for the 3rd time, the two of you fell silent. With your head below his chin, it was the perfect position for him to see the screen over you. You could feel the warmth rolling off of him, only an inch of space between his chest and your back, and both of you were well aware of it.

It was nearly impossible to focus on the movie, trying to reign in the urge to just slide back a little bit and mold yourself to him. Nibbling at your lip, you rolled just a little under the pretense of stretching and bumped into him. Just your arm into his, and he didn’t move away.

“You good? Need more space? I can crawl under the bed if you want,” he said, smirking at you. He thought he knew what you were playing at, but your next words confirmed it. It was the oldest trick in the book and, even though no one had ever used it on him, he had seen it at work with Semi and Shirabu too many times.

“Just stretching. I’m still a bit cold though,” you said, facing the TV again.

Suppressing a snicker, knowing damn well that wasn’t what you were after, he offered, “I can get you another blanket, if you need it.”

The silhouette of your shoulders fell, and you couldn’t hide the sigh that accompanied it. “It’s alright, Tendo. It’s not that bad.”

You really should have seen that coming, you guessed. The swell of hope and the crash of disappointment was painful in your chest, and you tried to focus on the movie again, ignoring the tempting warmth at your back. If he wasn’t interested, he wasn’t interested. It was cool.

Which was why you jumped when a weight settled over your side, a snicker filtering behind you as he molded himself to your back. It was slow, hesitant, and you would guess he was trying to make sure you were alright with it. Warmth seeped through your t-shirt and you sighed happily, shimmying back into him out of instinct, and this time you could feel his quiet laughter in his chest.

His arms were so long that he had to fold it in front of you, hand coming to rest just underneath your chin, and when you relaxed so did he. With his chin resting atop your head now, he asked, “Better? This is what you wanted, right?”

“Shut up,” you whined, hiding your face in your hand. It was embarrassing enough without him having to tease you about it. But you supposed it wouldn’t be Tendo if he didn’t make fun of you for everything. It was so easy after that to focus on the movie, now that you had gotten what you wanted. The snacks lay forgotten near your feet, not wanting to move and mess up the delicate balance that was now between the two of you.

It was tenuous and any small movement from either of you could send it toppling in either direction, and you weren’t even sure what it depended on. You knew for sure which way you would like to see it go, but it was just as comfortable the way it was.

Silence fell again until the movie ended, which was the only reason you moved. You could probably have fallen asleep like that, but you weren’t ready yet, wanting to bask in whatever you had with Tendo for a while longer.

When you sat up to change the next movie, Tendo rolled over onto his back, watching you fiddle around with it. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck and he shifted uncomfortably. Seemed you felt the same because you turned to look at him, an apology written on your face.

“Sorry, do you mind if I go change into shorts. It’s actually too warm for these now,” you said, setting the DVD case back on the pile. You felt like you were suffocating in your thick winter leggings now, but if he wasn’t okay with that then you would suffer a little longer. At least until you melted.

“Oh thank god you said something. I was about to die in these sweatpants, I swear,” he answered, fanning his face with his hand. You were pretty sure he was just exaggerating that though. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’, and crawled towards the escape flap, wincing at the sound of crunching and crinkling under your knees all of a sudden. “Oops.”

“Oh those had better not have been mine,” he whined, flashing the light of his phone towards the bag. He groaned, seeing his bag of doritos crushed. He could hear you snicker outside the sheet as you walked away and growled, “Watch it. Yours are still in here, _____.”

You opened a drawer as he finally came out as well and began rifling through his bag, pulling out the pair of shorts he’d packed. When you turned around with a pair of soft shorts in your hands, you found him standing awkwardly in the middle of your room again and laughed. “I’ll go change in the bathroom. I gotta use it anyway. I’ll be right back.”

Your footsteps receded down the hall and he raced to get changed before you came back. His sweats landed on his backpack and he shrugged at himself. What did it matter, so long as they weren’t on your floor?

The sound of the sink reached his ears just as he was climbing back into the fort, frowning at his crushed chips even as he shoved a handful into his mouth. He was so gonna make you pay for a new bag, especially because you had laughed. The door creaked open and the flap shifted, and he almost choked on his chips as he realized just how short your shorts were. Were your legs always that long? And smooth? And pretty? Shit.

“How are your chip fragments?” you joked as you made yourself comfortable beside him again. Your hair fanned out behind you and you gathered it up off the base of your neck, twisting it around so that it spread out above you instead. How the fuck was the back of your neck sexy*?

He was so screwed.

“Uh,” he replied. Smooth, Satori. Shaking his head, he tried to gather his thoughts and focus them literally anywhere else. It worked. Sort of. “Pointy. You owe me a new bag.”

You scoffed, smiling at the car full of vacationing teenagers on the laptop. “There’s like four other bags in here. Quit whining.”

But he wasn’t giving it up, throwing his bag into the corner and hopefully out of the way of your carelessness. Settling behind you like he had before, he once again left space between you, afraid now of how his body might react if he didn’t. “No, all of them suck.”

You definitely noticed the gap and wondered if he was just waiting for you to take the initiative, so you did. Before he could blink, you were once again molded to his chest, head tucked under his chin and knees folded around his. He tensed, fingers curling into a fist while he willed himself to chill.

His arm came down around you again, but you could feel how stiff he was. When you made to move forward again, to give him space, his arm locked, even pulling you back again and you grinned. With his arm now lit up properly by the light of the laptop, you realized you could see the tattoos more clearly, and began to trace the stars and fish on his arm.

“Aren’t these the spirit fish from Avatar?” you asked, skimming over the white and black koi. It was a watercolor piece, lacking the heavy lines like the ones on his other arm, and you felt him nod against the top of your head. “They’re gorgeous. Who’s your artist?”

“A friend of mine in Miyagi did those,” he answered, watching you continue to trail up his arms. Goosebumps were raising the fine hairs all over his body, your touches so gentle and intimate, your focus rapt. Higher up near his elbow was what appeared to be two jolly rogers, but they weren’t the normal ones. “Those are from a pirate manga I read in Jump,” he said before you could ask, and you smoothed your hand over them before sliding it back up near his hand.

His heart skipped a beat when your fingers curled into his palm, hesitating before you slipped them between his. He was sure you could feel his heart pounding away in his chest, unaware that you couldn’t because yours was racing fast enough that you were lightheaded. Folding his fingers down over your hand locked them together, but you didn’t try to pull away. If anything, you tried to cuddle up closer to him, dragging your hands so that they were pressed to your chest. It was the most intimate thing he had experienced in recent memory and if his heart didn’t slow down it was going to explode.

The movie wasn’t holding his interest and a new question cropped up in his mind, one he had wondered more than once before tonight and he couldn’t figure out why he thought of it now, but he latched onto it because otherwise he really thought he was going to combust. Besides, it would ease some of his insecurity if he got an answer.

“What took you so long to set this up, anyway? I kind of thought you had changed your mind for a while,” he said, staring at the screen. He was sort of taking it in, an anchor point so he didn’t get lost in his thoughts.

Your chest rumbled against his hand when you hummed, and your answer was so mundane and rational that he almost laughed. “Well a part of it was wanting to get to know you a bit before we did this. Didn’t want to invite a total stranger to spend the night, after all. And then it was just a matter of waiting for my roommates to freakin’ leave.”

“Oh, are your roommates actually gone*?” he asked in surprise. He had thought they were just out for the night and would be home-- probably not soon, given the time, but still. “Like, for the weekend?”

You hummed again in agreement, twirling the ends of your hair absently around your fingers. You were locked onto the movie, absorbed as Leatherface chased one of the characters he didn’t care about through the yard. He fell quiet, thinking you wanted to watch uninterrupted, but then you asked, “That’s alright, right? They would have just wanted to join in otherwise and they can’t stand horror movies either, so they would’ve just talked through it.”

Exactly like he was doing, he realized, and his face grew hot. Hopefully he hadn’t already annoyed you. He nodded, responding in a much quieter voice. “It’s fine. Was just surprised, I guess.”

For a while, neither of you said anything and Tendo managed to focus on the movie, feeling you jump and twitch every once in a while at scares you weren’t expecting. Unfortunately, those movements were brushing against areas that he really didn’t need them too and your shorts did nothing to diminish the curve of your ass against him or the slowly growing hard on he was getting. It didn’t help that every time he shifted even a little you would just follow him, as if he wasn’t pinned by your hand holding his.

But shit, if he didn’t move soon he was going to be screwed. The bathroom-- that would get him out of there before he embarrassed the fuck out of himself.

It was too late, though. You flinched and ground your ass back into him and he groaned before he could help it. You froze, he froze, he just really wanted to die.

“I-- Sorry. I’m really sorry,” he said, tugging at his hand to try and escape. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but the best option was probably to leave and transfer to a school in a whole different country. He could already hear your words now, an echo of so many times before, the sting of disappointment a familiar feeling around his heart.

“I’m sorry, Tendo. I just don’t see you that way.”

It was because he was a freak with a weird name and creepy eyes and-- fuck. It was high school all over again, being rejected by someone he genuinely thought liked him only to find out they were using him to get to Ushijima or pretending to as a fucking joke, only this time Ushijima wasn’t around and he had really gotten himself into it by agreeing to any of this.

But you were refusing to let his hand go, holding so tight he thought his fingers might break, saying his name until he came back down from his panicked high.

“Tendo, Tendo, calm down, please,” you were begging. You had rolled onto your back, unable to sit up because you were using both your hands to keep him from jumping up and taking the whole fort down. You could see it on his face when he finally heard you, wide vermillion eyes locking with yours while his heart continued to race.

He remained propped up on his elbow, ready to run at the first opportunity, and you almost felt bad for antagonizing him as much as you had. If you had known your teasing was going to get him this riled up, you would have tried a different tactic-- or not tried it at all. Maybe you had pushed too far too soon, and the skittish look in his pretty eyes worried you that you had ruined it.

“It’s alright, Tendo,” you said, trying to keep your voice quiet and soothing. It felt an awful lot like you were dealing with a wary animal-- like a coyote or a fox. When the insistent tension in his arm faded is when you relaxed your death grip on his fingers.

The sound of the movie was too loud in the unnatural silence between you, and you rolled over to turn it down. When it was only a background buzz, you turned back to him. He was still staring at you without blinking, his eyes devoid of the panic from earlier but now they were eerily blank.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, deadpan. He flinched when you took his hand again, forehead scrunching in confusion. “I don’t understand. There’s no way you-- What are you doing?”

It was your turn to be confused, pursing your lips at him. He sounded so lost-- and wary again-- like a child. For the first time, you wondered what his childhood had actually been like. He talked an awful lot about Ushiwaka and Semi, and the volleyball club in general, but you heard nothing outside of that. It made you suspicious now.

“What am I doing?” you parroted, finally sitting up. Your joined hands fell into your lap and you stared down at them, petting the back of his hand with your free one. “Do you not want me to?”

His words were stuck in his throat, trapped by the lump there, and he swallowed thickly. His mouth felt like cotton, and he shook his head, croaking out, “It isn’t that. I just don’t understand why.”

“Why what?” you asked, gentle amusement in your voice. There was no teasing, no malicious undertones that he could hear, like you were waiting to spring the final part of the joke on him. And he was listening for it. After years of dealing with it, he had learned to recognize it in people’s words and on their faces. The way their lips would curl and their eyes would narrow just before cruelty would spew from their mouths, he knew the tells and you--

Had none.

There was nothing but open curiosity and nervousness-- and hope. A lot of hope swirled in your eyes and he swallowed again. He was just going to disappoint you. If not tonight then tomorrow, if not tomorrow then next week. It was going to happen--

“Why do you like me? How do you like me? I’m-- weird. And you’re--” He gestured frantically up and down at all of you. You weren’t anything he was-- a freak. With freaky eyes and a freaky name and a freaky personality.

“I-- um,” you said, and you couldn’t help but smile. There was clearly a lot of baggage with him, and his questions made that obvious. It was likely too much to unpack tonight, especially when you were still only just getting to know each other. Reassurance was what he needed, and that was something you could offer on the spot. “You’re funny...and sweet and...very good looking. Your eyes are so pretty. Um, there’s also the fact that you’re the only person who would watch these movies with me, which earns you a lot of points, in my opinion,” you said, tapping your lips as you stared up at the ceiling.

Your face was on fire as you listed things off the top of your head, your throat tight with anxiety as you wondered what he would say in response. They were all surface level things for now, but you knew underneath the armor that there was a lot more to Tendo, and you hoped you had a chance to discover it.

He groaned low in his throat, not from disgust but from a deep seated need to believe you meant those things. His forehead met your shoulder, his fingers squeezing yours. He didn’t fight it when you eased back down, following after you without a word, leaving his face hidden in your neck. He was still trying to gather his thoughts and calm his overworked heart. It would be so easy to reject you and be on his way, to return home and beat himself up for letting himself get too close and too comfortable with you when he knew nothing would come of it.

Except something had come of it and he wasn’t sure what to do now. Semi and Ushijima always told him he was too closed off and that someone was going to come around who actually liked him and his ‘weird ass’ and that he was going to lose that chance because of some stupid high school assholes. Was he though? He wanted to believe you, wanted to trust you, and slowly he relaxed, his stress leaving him in a long, tired exhale.

“You mean it?” he whispered against your neck, and you could feel his lashes tickle your skin when he blinked. His arm was heavy where his hand rested on your stomach, fingers intertwined with yours, and you squeezed his hand as tight as you could.

“I do. I like you and really want a chance to get to know you better,” you whispered back, and it suddenly felt like no one existed but the two of you, protected from everything in the world outside by a few sheets and each other's warmth. There would be things to discuss and hiccups to overcome, but you could worry about those tomorrow. In that moment, all you wanted was to prove to Tendo you wanted him.

Maybe it was your words, whispered softly into the dark, or your hand gripping his for dear life, or the way you let him cling to you like a lifeline, or maybe it was a combination, but when he pulled back from his hiding place and found you staring at him, he slotted his lips against yours without thinking. Your lips parted almost immediately, free hand sliding out from between your bodies to tangle in the close cropped hair at the nape of his neck and you used it to pull yourself closer.

When your tongue poked out to glide across the seam of his lips, he let you in on a breath, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. His eyes were squeezed shut tight as your tongue met his, praying that what was happening wasn’t a dream, and he wasn’t expecting it when you gasped and pulled away all of a sudden.

His eyes popped open and he stared down at you with panic. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

“I-- forgot you have a tongue ring,” you said, and the laughed. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

He blinked like an owl, eyes wide as he processed your words. It wasn’t something that he had ever expected to hear in his life, let alone from the girl he was half-making out with in a freakin’ pillow fort. He suddenly wondered if his life had turned into a Shounen Jump manga.

“Well, so are you,” he said, and leaned in for another kiss.

It was kind of hot to see him confident and you felt heat pool in your stomach, starting to bleed further down as his tongue slipped into your mouth again. He tasted like the root beer he had been drinking all night, and you couldn’t resist toying with the piercing, swirling your tongue around it and listening to him moan against your mouth.

Your shirt had ridden up your stomach as you moved around, trying to get closer to him, and neither of you realized it until Tendo’s hand smoothed over your skin. He froze mid-kiss, waiting for your reaction, and was unsurprised when your hand grabbed his.

What he didn’t expect was for you to guide it upwards, letting go when you hit your ribs to cup his cheek. Pulling back just enough that he could speak against your lips, he asked, “Are you sure?”

“Frankly, Tendo,” you said, and kissed him again before you continued, “I haven’t wanted anyone this bad in forever. Even if we wake up tomorrow and change our minds, I am fucking sure right now.”

He groaned, letting his hand hike your shirt up a little higher until his hand cupped under your breast. He wasn’t sure when you had taken your bra off, or maybe you hadn’t been wearing one the whole time, but there was nothing impeding his skin from caressing yours. Your breast was so soft in his hand, topped by a pretty pink nipple that he couldn’t resist pinching. You mewled underneath him, pulling your shirt up to uncover your other breast and he moved to that one, doing the same and feeling your nipple harden at his touch.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he rasped, gazing down the length of your body. Your thighs were clenched, and his hand migrated lower, fingertips skimming over your skin.

The heat that was pooling earlier erupted when they met the waistband of your shorts, but he paused, looking unsure again.

“Tendo, I’ll show you how much I want this,” you whispered and grabbed his hand. He was still hesitant, looking at your face as you slid his hand into your panties, and his eyes widened.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned, his fingers gliding over your soaked lips, spreading your slick all over them. His fingers quickly found your clit, circling it and you squeezed his hand between your thighs, hips jerking. “All because of me? I’m flattered.”

Teasing at your soaked opening, he waited for you to balk but you only twitched, panting against his lips before he sunk one finger in, your walls parting easily. You moaned and he swallowed it in a kiss, his tongue filling your mouth again. It wasn’t long before he was fitting a second finger, crooking them up and grazing your sweet spot, his thumb taking over massaging your clit as he pumped them inside you. Your arousal was already high enough that you could feel your orgasm coming on, and you pulled away to announce it.

“T-Tendo, gonna--” You gasped when he forced them in deeper, a mischievous smirk on his face as he prodded your cervix. “How-- fuck, your fingers are so long,” you whined, toes curling.

“Think you can take one more?” he asked, already fitting the tip of a third finger in. But it was only when you nodded, tears pricking the corners of your eyes that he slipped it in. Your teeth dug into your lip before they parted in a soundless cry.

The coil snapped on the first thrust and he groaned, drinking in your face as he tipped you over the edge. No one had ever cum so prettily for him before and he wanted to see it again.

But only if you wanted it. His cock throbbed painfully in his shorts when he pulled his fingers from your twitching hole, feeling you shudder against him. Examining his glistening fingers in the screen light, he slid one experimentally into his mouth and moaned. “You taste so good, princess.”

You gasped at the pet name, a warmth unrelated to the one between your legs blooming in your chest. He said it was such reverence that you flushed, hoping he’d say it again at some point. Never had anyone called you that before, at least in that context.

When he laid back down beside you, his erection brushed against your leg and he stifled a groan. He was wearing boxers but the friction against his cock was still a pleasurable sensation. Not as much as your hand might be--

Speaking of hands, he nearly jumped out of his skin when you cupped him, squeezing and kneading up the length of him confined in his clothes. A shaky breath ripped out of him, the result of him barely containing a moan, and his long fingers wrapped around your wrist to stop you.

“That’s alright, _____. You don’t have to--” But you weren’t listening and the pressure felt too good. His head fell back, eyes fluttering closed, content to let you literally massage his dick until you started tugging at his shorts. He stopped you more insistently then, pulling your hand away. “Wait a second. Let me get ‘em off since you’re so eager, princess.”

He pulled his shirt over his head first, because it was getting way too hot in there anyway, and then kicked his shorts and boxers off into the dark corner. His cock bobbed against his stomach as he rolled onto his side again, leaking precum already.

Your hand was soft against his stomach, roaming over the hard planes of his abs and down further, until it wrapped lightly around his head.

And froze.

“What the-- Tendo, what are those?” you asked in a high pitched, startled tone. Before he could answer, you let go and rolled onto your back, exposing him to the light and you thought for sure you had died and gone to heaven.

It wasn’t just his arms that were covered in ink. His shoulders, chest, and sides were all covered in it as well, swirls and splashes of color interrupted by splotches of black or white or skin. You could hardly make out what the images were in the flickering, inconsistent light, but you recognized flowers and circles, and on his pec you were pretty sure there was a scene of a lake bathed in moonlight. And as your eyes followed the path of colors down, you landed on the thing that had startled you in the first place.

“Those are--” you breathed, taking his cock into your hand again. There was a ball at the tip, covered in precum, and you knew if you traced down, you would find another just below the crown. Further down on his shaft were five horizontal barbells in a row, and you recognized it as a Jacob’s Ladder. “Fuck me.”

“Gladly,” Tendo quipped and pounced. He settled between your legs and tugged your shorts down over your hips, and you had to hold your legs up to let him pull them the rest of the way off. He was too tall to sit straight up without brushing his head against the ceiling, but he braced back on his arms when you grabbed his shaft again. He groaned when you fondled the ball below his crown, shuddering at the intense pleasure. It was one of the major reasons he’d gotten it- to enhance the sensations. But the feel of your fingers gliding over his tip, gathering the precum and nudging the ball was something else entirely. “Holy shit, that feels amazing.”

His voice sent shivers through you, deep and raspy and way too needy. But you were unsure of what would hurt him, so you kept your touches light, feeling his thighs tense under yours, his fingers squeezing your calves as he let you explore. Before long though, he was pulling your hand away, pinning it down at your side. “Can’t keep that up, princess. I need more, if you’re alright with it,” he said, letting his cock settle against your cunt.

The piercings were warm and pronounced against your folds, and you shuddered when the ball under his head grazed your clit. The thought of them inside you, rubbing all along your walls as he fucked you was too much and you could feel yourself growing wetter, your pussy drooling for it.

“Yes, Tendo, please. I want it, I want to feel them inside me,” you begged, rocking your hips. The stimulation was mind blowing and your walls clenched, empty and needy for him to fill you up. And he would, his cock was huge-- he still had room for more piercings below the ones he had. You had no doubt you would be stretching to take him and you keened in the back of your throat.

“I want you to call me Satori, princess. And I need you to let me know if it’s uncomfortable,” he said, pressing the tip of his cock into your sopping hole. “Sometimes they make it hurt, but you’re so fucking wet I don’t think it will. You really like these, huh?”

You were really just answering his question as you said yes, but a stream of them fell out of your mouth as he pushed the rest of his cock inside you, encouraging him to continue. The stretch was so good, your walls splitting easily for him, and you could feel every ball just like you had imagined grazing against your walls. The ball at his slit rested snugly against your cervix, and you didn’t even realize you were screaming as you came, hips jerking in his hands as he let you ride it out.

He was staring at you with what could only be awe, his mouth slack and eyes wide with surprise. “Holy fuck, princess, did you just cum?”

Your breaths were coming in pants as your mind spun, trying to come down from the unexpected high. It came on so suddenly you had no time to prepare, and tears slid down your cheeks. “F-Feels so good,” you whispered, fingers digging into the blanket beneath you. “Satori, oh my god.”

“Are you alright? We can stop--” he said, but you shook your head frantically, locking your ankles around his back, and he laughed under his breath. You sure were something else. He knew for a fact no one had ever come just from him sliding into them and a swell of pride filled his chest. “No? Alright, whatever you want, princess. Can I move?”

This time you nodded and he was slow as he pulled back, making sure you were okay. You were so tight around him from your orgasm, your walls fluttering with overstimulation, but your back arched when he stuffed himself back in, a breathy moan slipping out of you. Hiking your legs higher up on his hips, he bent over you, gathering your hands and pinning them above your head, lacing his fingers with yours. His lips met yours as he thrust into you slowly, grinding deep and stifling a moan. Once again you were playing with his tongue ring, flicking it as you suckled on his tongue. The fort-- and probably the room-- was filled with the wet slap of his hips on yours every time he drove his cock into you, drowning out the low buzz of the forgotten movie still playing. He was being careful, waiting for you to stop being so sensitive, and he knew you were ready when you arched into his chest and pulled away.

“So good, Satori,” you murmured against his lips, hips rising to meet his. Your eyes were glazed and fucked out, tears still flowing and you could already feel the start of another orgasm, but he was moving too slow. The drag and pull of his piercings had almost all of your attention, the ball at his tip constantly tapping your cervix, making your toes curl with every thrust. “You’re so big, and those-- fuck-- piercings feel so good inside me. I can feel them all everywhere.”

He snickered darkly at that and kissed your cheek. “You wanna feel even better, kitten?” he whispered into your ear, nipping the shell. He could feel you nod against his cheek, nails digging into his hands where he kept them pinned above your head, and then he was letting them go and pulling out of you. You whined, staring up at him in dismay, but he already had your thighs in his hands, prodding you to roll over. “Trust me, pretty girl. On your stomach, just like that.”

It was a bit difficult to get comfortable, but he grabbed a pillow and jammed it beneath your hips before settling with his legs outside of yours. And when you shook your ass, begging him to hurry up, he couldn’t deny you, not when he wanted to be back inside your tight heat so badly.

“Holyshitholyshitholyshit,” you whined, high-pitched and breathless as he finally filled you again. His thighs trembled as he forced himself not to just stuff himself into you, you were so tight. And the way you were crying and shuddering beneath him wasn’t helping, especially when you gasped his given name like a prayer. “*Satori, oh my god.”

If you thought those piercings felt good before, you were in heaven now. Everyone of them dragged slowly over the front wall of your cunt, grinding into your sweet spot and you had to bite the pillow to keep from outright screaming. And he was so, so, so big inside you, but with your legs trapped between his there was nothing you could do but take him. Against your will, your legs kicked, hitting him in the back as you wailed into the pillow, tears streaming down your cheeks in an endless flood.

He snarled into your ear as he planted his elbows beside your head, plastering himself to your back. “You are so fucking tight, princess. How do those piercings feel now?”

“So good so good so good,” you babbled, circling your hips back on his dick to get any friction you could. The orgasm that had been building came back ten fold just from him hilting inside of you and you knew that if he fucked you like this you would be cumming in seconds. “‘Tori, please move, please please please.”

Your needy begging made his cock twitch and you whimpered as he slowly pulled out of you and pushed back in, intentionally slow to let you feel everything. The pleasure was ebbing and flowing, building and falling because he wasn’t moving fast enough, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him to go faster, not when you could feel him so clearly. Every time he bottomed out, he made sure to grind down into you, nudging your cervix with the tip of his cock so he could feel you clench suddenly around him. It never failed to make him moan, your slick walls gripping him so tightly as he dragged himself back out. He wanted to make your pussy his new home and barring that he was going to fuck the shape of his cock into you.

“Tell me what you need to make you cum, princess,” he whispered into your ear. He knew what he needed, but he was still learning what would make you feel good.

Releasing the pillow from your teeth, the first thing you did was moan out his name again as he buried himself inside you again. You were so close to cumming, your clit throbbing with need and if he even brushed it you were going to be gushing all over him. You gasped as he thrust a little harder than before.

“If you don’t answer me I’ll just keep going like this, kitten. I can go for hours, if you want,” he whispered, warm against your ear. That made you twitch underneath him, and he chuckled. “You like the sound of that? We’ll try it another time. Right now, I need you to tell me where you want me to cum and how I can make you cum, okay?”

His words were dark and sweet and coaxing, and you were sure you had never whined so much in your whole life. “Touch me, please, Satori. I wanna cum all over your cock and pretty piercings while you cum in me, oh fuck.”

Bracing himself on his elbow, he forced his hand beneath your stomach, aided by you lifting your hips, and you whimpered when he finally, finally brushed your clit. It was all it took and you had to bite the pillow again as you creamed all over his cock, whiting out and screaming into it as you shuddered and jerked. He eased you through it, leaving his cock buried inside you while he fondled your clit, listening to you whimper and moan. It was a good thing you had hidden your face because you would surely have woken the whole complex up otherwise.

He groaned into your ear as you massaged his cock, so tight that you launched him into his own orgasm, cumming inside you as you had asked. He remained still inside of you even after you had relaxed, leaving small kisses all over your hair before he leaned down to rest his head on the pillow. He had fucked you so slowly that he hadn’t broken a sweat, and yet he was still out of breath and panting. His head swam for several more minutes, until you shifted beneath him. But you didn’t move like you wanted him to get off.

Instead, you turned to look at him, a lazy, blissed out grin on your face and said, “Holy shit, that was so amazing. I’ve never cum so many times.”

“So were you. I’ve never made someone cum so many times,” he admitted, and replayed the way you came just because he had filled you. That was something he was unlikely to ever forget. He brushed some hair out of your face before leaning in to kiss you. It was slow and gentle, belying how tired the two of you now were, and he could see you were ready to fall asleep. “Gonna pull out of you now, princess. Need you to stay nice and relaxed, okay?”

You nodded, your eyes closing and winced as he slid from your ruined hole. A stream of cum followed after and he took a moment to appreciate it, allowing a smirk to steal across his face. There was no doubt you were his now, at least for a little while, and he committed it all to memory before gently gripping your shoulders. “We should really get cleaned up, then we can go to sleep.”

You grumbled cutely but let him help you up, the both of you stumbling blindly to the bathroom. Sleepiness was a thick fog, and you got cleaned up as quickly as possible before returning to the room. The two of you stood in the doorway, looking at the mess of nonsense covering the bed, and then you looked at Tendou.

“Let’s just sleep in there,” you suggested, taking him by the hand. He let you lead him over, watching the way your ass swayed as you crawled into the fort for hopefully the final time that night. In the few minutes it had taken him to get in after you, you had already pulled a blanket over your legs and were setting up the next movie to play. Not that you would be watching it, but he understood it was the principle of the thing. This was a movie marathon and it just wouldn’t do to fall asleep without being in the middle of one.

Once he’d gotten comfortable behind you, you rolled over and splayed out across his chest, startling him. He had expected to curl himself around your back while you went to sleep, but now you were tracing what lines you could see on his chest in the thin light. His hand rested on your waist, the other tucked behind his head, and he closed his eyes, comfortable with your warmth and weight in his arms.

“Satori,” you murmured, your hand falling flat right over the picture of the lake. “I really do like you.”

He laughed at that, and you could feel it rumble in your ear, deep in his chest. He was clearly as tired as you were, but you needed to say it. There was something in your half asleep brain that would not stop telling you to say it, and you were in no position to fight it.

“I figured as much, princess. Three orgasms are hard to fake, especially around a dick as big as mine,” he answered, and you blanched for a moment before erupting into laughter. He watched you through narrow eyes, fondness bubbling in his chest, until you settled back down against him. “You’re absolutely gorgeous, you know that?”

“So’re you,” you murmured. The nagging had stopped now that you had said what you needed too, and you were falling asleep quickly. “Don’t be gone when I wake up tomorrow, okay?”

“It already is tomorrow, and I’ll be here. There’s nowhere else I wanna be anyway,” he answered, letting his eyes close as well. With your comfortable weight on his chest and your even breathing mixing with the buzzing of the movie in the background in his ears, he drifted to sleep in no time, for once not worrying about what tomorrow would bring.

⇥ masterlist

⇥ taglist: @visaintes, @kunimwuah

#tendo x reader #tendou x reader #tendo satori x reader #satori tendo x reader #tendou satori x reader #satori tendou x reader #haikyuu x reader #.monster

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Hue and Cry XII

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series),egos clashing, mentions of past trauma and violence

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You try to maintain the new peace in your existence.

Note: Honestly this series isn’t really listening to my plans so here you go.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

You did not attend the second day of the tournament. Whether it was out of Barnes insecurity or anger or even both was not known. You did not complain for it. You didn’t have any energy for it after all that occured. He did not apologize, nor did he forgive, but he bided you and left in a lighter mood than you’d seen him in for a long while.

He wasn’t competing that day either. Perhaps that eased his stress. You languished in his chambers alone. You paced, you laid down but did not sleep, you sat by the fire then stared out the window. You existed in anticipation of his return.

When he appeared, the sky was a dimming blue. He did not acknowledge you as he kicked off his boots before entering. He rolled his shoulders and picked out a chain to hang around his straight collar. When he finished that, he opened up the wardrobe and selected a fine burgundy velvet piece and draped it over your lap. You watched him as he checked the ring on his finger.

“You will accompany me to the feast,” he stated, “now that we’ve come to an accord, there should not be another scene… isn’t that so?”

“Yes, my lord,” you stood and he helped you dress a piece at a time. The gown was stiff and hot. You chose a black cap trimmed in gold to pair with it and he offered you a chain link necklace to wrap around your throat. He eyed you up and down and peered out between the curtains.

“We will be late,” he said as he came back to you, “sweeting,” he poked his tongue between his lips as he considered you, “this morning…” his lashes lowered as he thought, “I was irrational last eve. Tonight should not be so… hostile. I long to start anew.”

“As you wish, my lord,” you agreed, “I never intended any acrimony between us. I’ve only served you--”

“Serve,” he shook his head, “I do not want you to serve me,” he took your arm, “I’d prefer you… care for me. Be with me in more than your deeds.”

“How were the games today, my lord?” you eluded him.

“Entertaining… well, for a time. By the finale, I was rather bored of it,” he shrugged, “I also did not say but you will sit with me this night. The king, my sister truly, has seen to it.”

You let him lead you out of the chambers. Lester was there as always, smug in his armour as he watched Lord Barnes direct you down the corridor. You ignored the guard as you always tried to do. He was the reason you were stuck, you’d decided, if he wasn’t so eager to impress his master you would have got away.

That time, you entered the feast hall from the opposite side. You felt Bucky tense as you passed through the doors. You kept your eyes on the floor as he took you up onto the dais among the higher nobles and the king. You couldn’t help but hold his arm tighter.

“You will be fine,” he assured as he drew you along.

He greeted Lord Rogers in a low voice and pulled out a chair for you to sit. He lowered himself between you and Rogers as King Samuel called to him from the Duke’s other shoulder.

“My lady,” the king raised his already full goblet at you, “we welcome you. We trust Barnes should not be so dour with you near.”

“Your majesty,” you bowed your head and when his attention returned to his queen, Rebecca, Barnes’ sister, you sat back and hid behind her brother. She was even more beautiful than when she’d resided in the castles. She had the same dark hair and those sparkling blue eyes.

You glanced around the hall and your eyes skimmed over those three figures you were trying not to think of. You stared at the table instead as you shook away the memory of May’s warm voice, Benjamin’s quiet comfort, and Peter’s hurt and shock. The previous night still lingered and made you fill rotten and even more displaced. You weren’t dumb enough to believe that any would see you beside the duke and believe you anything but what you were.

“Pardon, my lady,” the chair on your other side shifted and you looked up at the man with the odd accent. You hadn’t seen him before but there were so many faces, you couldn’t have recalled them all, “I believe this is my seat,” he clung to the seat next to yours, “I only did not want to startle--”

“Don’t talk to her!” Barnes hissed from your other shoulder and stood with a scrape of his chair. He squeezed your shoulder and uttered under his breath, “do not entertain this man.” He turned and flagged down Samuel with an angry wave, “what is this? For what purpose is he here?”

“Buck,” Samuel lowered his cup and stood. He walked behind the chairs until he reached the stormy duke, “the war is over. He was sent as assurance of that. We are allies now.”

“I should throttle him where he stands,” Barnes growled.

The other man sat coolly and signaled for his goblet to be filled, entirely unconcerned with the ravenous lord snarled at his throat.

“You will not. I cannot send him back dead and indeed, I do intend to send him back better than,” Samuel chided, “now sit and bide your tongue and your wrath.”

“He--” Barnes huffed then clamped his lips shut. You’d seen him angry but never like that. “You would sit him near me.”

“It was an unfortunate oversight. Perhaps Rogers might allow you to relocate--”

“No, no,” Barnes sneered and dropped into his chair, “your priorities have been understood.”

“I’ve allowed you a lot,” Samuel lowered his voice as he leaned over Barnes’ chair, “don’t make me rescind all my kindness.”

Barnes grumbled like a petulant child and reached for his cup. When it was empty he slammed it down and snapped his fingers for a servant. You looked around, your natural response was to do it yourself but you did not move out of fear. You were between two men with an obvious and intense distaste for each other.

“Apologies, lady, I cannot fault him his distrust--”

“Don’t talk to her,” Barnes pointed at the man as a servant stood at his other shoulder to pour his wine, “I will not warn you again. Her nor I will have a word from you.”

The man laughed and drank from his own cup and shrugged. He winked at you as you eyed him and he considered you a long while after. Barnes reached over and grabbed the arm of your chair to drag it closer to his.

He whispered in your ear, his breath tickling your skin, “he is a villain and you will not indulge his want of menace.”

“Yes, my lord,” you murmured as his hand went to your arm and searched out your hand from the folds of your sleeve. He shook as he twined his fingers between yours. He was more than angry, he was more upset than he’d ever been.

🏰

Barnes dragged you from the hall as the dancing commenced. He’d been agitated throughout the dinner and you let him stew in it rather than say or do anything that might provoke him. You didn’t know who that man was but his accent hinted at a former adversary, perhaps in one of the campaigns that the duke fought in years ago. You wouldn’t ask, that would be stupid.

That night, he was uninterested in your body beyond holding you close. He was still wound tight and fidgety. When you woke, he was already risen and half-dressed. He was shirtless and his arm remained on the chest where he’d left it. He sat on the bench and looked to it.

You got up and lifted his arm. It was heavy but you managed. You wondered how he could bear it every day. The thoughts swirled in your mind as you thought that no one would think less if he only pinned his sleeve. He was a veteran, a hero to many, he shouldn’t be ashamed.

Then you caught yourself as you approached him. He was awful. You shouldn’t pity him, you hated him. You helped him strap on the artificial appendage and silently buckled the straps. He groaned and pushed his head back as you finished.

“You should dress. You’ll do well to watch the games with me. Tomorrow I will be competing again and you will have to attend alone… though I did think to send Lester with you or another,” he said as you helped him into his tunic.

You acquiesced and pulled out a pale gown in a gentle robin’s egg blue. He helped you in turn and you stood before him ready to play your part. He sat and handed you a comb to help with his hair and you pulled it back behind his head and bound it with a thin tie. He almost purred as you did and when you finished he pulled your hand down onto his shoulder.

“We should away. Break our fast and go early to the stands. A box is reserved for me and you would not have to sit amid the masses,” he bid as he rose, “I trust you know what is expected of you now.”

“You, only you,” you assured him, “I will not wander again, my lord.”

“I will not tolerate it again,” he warned, “but I trust you, sweeting.” He pulled you to the door and his hand slipped to grope your through your skirts, he turned and bent to kiss you hungrily, “this will be over soon,” he drew away, “and we will return to our home.”

🏰

The box was much nicer than the crowded stands. The benches there were cushioned and only held several lords and ladies. The king was competing in the ax-throw and his queen observed in the box with two of her ladies, Marguerite and Tess, you and Barnes shared a bench but he was hardly interested in the games, and Lord Rogers paced behind the seats as Lord Stark boasted about the axes he’d designed for the tournament.

“Barnes,” Stark called to the duke, “I should have your saddle modified for your use on the morrow but some questions remain.”

Barnes sighed and touched your arm as he spoke quietly to you, “I swear he is so concerned, he is up to some trick with it.” He stood and walked around the bench to sit with Stark, “questions?”

“I have it…” Stark reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded page, “these are sketches of what I’ve done but I did wonder for some practical attunements given your… needs.”

The duke sniffed and looked over the drawings and you focused on the field as the targets were arranged further away than the previous round. You were startled as you sensed movement and you rose as Rebecca came near. She waved you off and sat beside you.

“Forgive me, I haven’t had a chance to see you,” she said sweetly, “I do remember you… lady, now, is it?”

“No, not really,” you ran your thumb down your palm, “your majesty, he bid me here, I know it is not proper--”

“My brother is stubborn, do not apologize for that for I am certain you suffer for it,” she trilled, “and he is peculiar but somehow I was not surprised at how he has… taken to you.”

“Your majesty,” you dipped your chin down as you listened.

“I imagine it must be lonely. You don’t know anyone and how could you? It is a poorly kept secret what you are, and I say that without condemnation, but he has thrust you into an unkind position,” she continued.

“I serve your family as I always have,” you replied.

“Your mother… she’s a pleasant woman, I always liked her. She used to bring up my linens and she had the most friendly face. How does she fare?”

“She died,” you uttered, “she had a growth in her neck and… she could not be saved.”

“I am very sorry, I didn’t--”

She pushed her shoulders back. She reminded you of her brother in her posture but she was kinder than him. She peered around the arena and nodded to herself as she thought. She peeked back at Barnes and you did too. He was irritated as Rogers had closed him in on the bench and both lords seemed to be working to stoke him.

“I must admit I did not see to you purely out of sentiment of our shared past,” she continued, “there was none in that hall last night who did not feel my brother’s spite or notice the man who earned it.” You blinked at her as you met her gentle eyes. Her smiled fell and she touched your sleeve, “he has afforded you quite the wardrobe but perhaps I might see to something more of the fashion.”

“That man,” you urged, “who was he?”

She chuckled darkly and lowered her chin, “forgive my distraction. That man is Baron Helmut Zemo,” she spoke in barely a whisper, “he fought in the campaigns… against my brother and my husband.”

You watched her nervously. You were still a kid when Barnes went off to war with his banner and you remembered his return, how none had seen him for years after as he hid away with his wounds.

“He dealt the blow that took my brother’s arm,” she quivered, “I warned Samuel it was tenuous to bring him here but… in the name of diplomacy it cannot be avoided. I only want you to know because you deserve that and it would help in dealing with my brother's moods… perhaps. I don't think anyone has ever truly understood how."

"Oh, uh, thank you, your majesty," you looked across the field as metal crashed into wood, "I suppose it is better that I know."

"Better you know and stay clear of the Baron," she said, "and for me, keep my brother from him as well. We cannot afford another war on the back of his grudge."

"I… how--"

"You do not see it but you hold a power over him. We both know his reputation; unsociable to say the least," she laughed lightly, "keep his mind from Zemo until he is gone, there are better things he could think on."

She stood with a last smile and you watched her skirts flow behind her. You kept your head up and your eyes down on the figures below. You did your best not to wince as her show of kindness became apparent for what it was. She was like her brother in more than just her looks. She was using you for her own means, that was all these nobles could see in others.

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slasherholic · 3 years

Text

hi I haven't posted writing in months so here's a teaser for a michael x reader smutfic set in dead by daylight that I’m almost done with heehee

contains: mentions of trauma / abuse

The young woman with blonde hair has been watching you since you arrived back at the campfire, but you have already made up your mind that you aren’t going to acknowledge her. You have a sinking suspicion that the moment you do, she will get up and come over to sit on your side of the circle, and when that happens you will be forced into the very conversation you’ve been dreading.

Digging absently at the loose ground with your shoe, you stare into the crackling fire and hope she gives it up. Laurie’s heart is in the right place; but the thought of putting words to what she wants to talk about is making you very sick to your stomach.

Her mind is made, however; and soon enough, the young woman is rising to her feet.

She hugs her arms close to her body as she approaches and looks at the ground, perhaps dreading this conversation just as much as you are.

Sitting down on the log, she reaches up with her slender fingers to tuck a straying wisp of hair behind her ear. She sucks in deep breath through her nose, and speaks the first words she’s ever spoken to you outside of the trials.

“Uhm, sorry, I don’t think I ever introduced myself.”

Her words come out brief and hurried, as though she’s rehearsed them in her head many times.

You look up at Laurie. Her delicate mouth has tugged into a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. You force a smile of your own, which falls from your face as soon as you look back down at the fire. The glowing embers float into the dark sky, twisting and dancing before they fizzle out.

No, she didn’t ever introduce herself; but word of mouth travels quickly at the campfire. Stories are exchanged, even if they are not yours to tell, and so everyone knows a little bit about everyone. David was a debt collector in his past life. Yui raced motorcycles. Jane had her own talk show.

And all of Laurie Strode’s friends were murdered by the silent killer in the blank white mask.

You don’t know the names of Laurie’s dead friends, but you do know how they felt in their final moments. Staring hard at the clumps of soil clinging to your shoe, the memories of previous trials come surging back like water through open floodgates. You prod at the ground beneath your feet harder, willing the intrusive thoughts away as they breach the surface.

Laurie tells you her name, and doesn’t ask for yours. That’s okay. You figure she already knows it, has perhaps heard it mentioned in passing or shouted in a trial. You’re still among the newest faces at the campfire, but you aren’t that new — little by little, the life you led before the entity is becoming just another fireside story, too.

Laurie, staring at the embers, draws in another breath, deeper this time.

“Look, there’s something I need to give you.”

The sudden determination in her voice takes you by surprise. It has you glancing up at her in a stare that she does not return.

After an awkward few moments where neither of you seem able to muster a word, Laurie’s hand delves into her pocket, and she pulls out a splinter of glass. Barely longer than her hand, it catches the light of the fire and gleams a soft orange around its edges.

Turning the glass over in her hands, Laurie considers it as she speaks. Blonde waves fall in her face and conceal her expression.

“He’s singling you out.”

Your head swims. You don’t want to think about him; you don’t want to remember.

When you say nothing, Laurie straightens her posture, tucks her hair behind her ears, and meets your stare. The pain in her eyes speaks volumes.

“I know, because that was me once.”

You hug your arms to your chest. She’s right; not even at the campfire are you able to rid yourself of the phantom sensation of bloody hands clamping shut like a noose around your throat. You cannot look behind you even outside the trials for fear of catching a glimpse of the pale mask stalking you from the wall of darkness beyond the trees, beyond the safety of the light. Laurie’s monster has become your own.

An involuntary shudder seizes your shoulders and you shake your head as if it will rid your mind of such images. All you can muster in response to Laurie’s question is,

“...but, why me?”

Laurie's gaze drops into the fire again and becomes almost vacant. The glow of the embers dances in her eyes. You wonder for a moment if she has even heard you.

“I don’t know,” she says at last. “That’s something I had to ask myself for a long time.”

You get the impression that Laurie does, in fact, know why; she just isn’t prepared to say it. Perhaps saying it aloud would bring back ugly memories of her own.

“How bad is it going to get?” Your voice is almost a whisper. Your eyes have glossed over with tears that won’t quite come out.

“Please tell me.”

Laurie’s grip tightens on her splinter of glass. The longer the silence stretches, the deeper your heart sinks. When at last her gaze breaks away from the campfire, she meets your eyes with an unreadable expression.

“Listen, I know how hopeless it all feels right now.”

She’s right. It does feel hopeless. It is the most empty, draining feeling you have ever felt.

Laurie shuffles a bit closer to you on the log. When her cool hand closes over your own you stiffen up like a board, but force yourself not to pull away from her embrace. She draws in slow breath through her gently parted lips.

“I need you to understand that you can fight him.”

She passes the glass into your open palm and curls your fingers delicately around its smooth surface, cupping your hand in hers. The sudden determination in her deep-set eyes is captivating. For just a moment, you find that you are willing to believe Laurie’s every word.

“Promise me that you’re going to fight him. You fight him, you do whatever it takes. And you never, ever let him win. Promise me.”

Not knowing if you really mean it, you give Laurie your word.

#it gets #extremely dark #def wont be for everyone c:#dbd #michael myers #laurie strode

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gamerwoo · 4 years

Text

[Tales from the Pack] Hansol: Fire and Ice (Part Two)

Characters: Hansol x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, angst, a little bit of fluff in there tho, a hint of crack, lots of talking about death, mention of stabbing

Word count: 1,964

Summary: You’ve always been one to let your emotions get the best of you – your power reflects that – and you’ve never been good at expressing them. That’s why you always thought you’d be awful with a mate, but you never thought things would be this awful.

Previous | Next | Fire and Ice Masterlist

It wasn’t until the mates at Jiung’s house watched the werewolves perk up and strain their ears that their heart started racing, the too-quiet and tense atmosphere being broken. Chanseong stood up to follow Rin – who had come home alone before everyone else after chasing after you – as she went straight for the door. But she still didn’t smile. Nobody in their pack had smiled once since you ran out with Chan chasing after you.

Rin turned to look at Rika, saying something quickly in English. The smaller girl understood, ushering the mates that had made it back on their own back into the living room.

“What is it?” Yeji asked worriedly as Mingyu rushed right out the door behind Rin.

Rika sighed, trying her best to get a look out the window, “I know you’ve all guessed something was wrong, but… Somebody didn’t make it back.”

“What?!” Jooyeon cried, already assuming the worst.

“Someone’s missing?” Jia asked urgently. “Who?”

Rika just shook her head before sitting on another couch between two of her pack’s mates.

Then the front door opened, and everybody in the living room stood, waiting to see who would enter. But every face was somber, and some had silent tears in their eyes or sliding down their cheeks.

The group in the living room watched as Hansol entered, carrying you, who was passed out in his arms with your face tear-stained and set in almost a scowl. Rika just stared at him for a beat of silence before wordlessly leading him out of the room. None of them were sure what happened to you, but they hoped you were okay.

They watched as Chanseong stood after seeing you, and walked out of the room with a loud sob escaping passed his lips. Jimin got up to follow him.

Eyes scanned each person one-by-one as they entered, everyone wanting to know who made it back okay. Were their mates okay? Was it the person they loved most who didn’t make it back? The group in the living room watched as members of Jiung’s pack entered, all silently crying as they filed in. Jaesang, Hanbin, Jinyoung, Baekhan, Hyojun – all of them had tears in their eyes and sliding down their cheeks. But even Seungcheol’s pack looked upset. The alpha himself entered, head bowed and tears brimming his eyes as he tried to not cry in front of his pack. It wasn’t until Jooyeon cried out his name and ran into his arms that he sobbed into her hair.

They realized once everyone was inside that it was the alpha of the pack that had helped them that didn’t make it back. Jiung had died.

The reunions were sweet, and almost made everyone in Seungcheol’s pack forget about whatever had happened. Jia clung to Minghao’s arm, frantically whispering things to him in Mandarin as she sniffled and kissed his cheek -- even giving Junhui a quick peck on the cheek and telling him she was happy he was safe. Wonwoo enveloped his sister and his mate in a tight hug, kissing both of their heads before taking his niece in his arms and cooing to her while she slept.

And of course, brothers and sisters hugged each other and said their forms of love and caring. Joshua gave a stern look to Soomin before he hugged her and complained for scaring him half to death. Jihoon gave Suvi a genuine smile as he patted her hand and told her he was happy she was finally safe. Seungkwan threw his arms dramatically around Chan and cried that their “baby is okay”. Even Soonyoung strolled up to Jooyeon casually, giving her a side-hug as he grinned down at her.

“Saw some of those assholes with knives in their chests,” he commented like it was nothing. “I’m proud of you, Yeon. You defended your pack.”

“I’d do it again if I had to,” she told him with a proud smile before Soonyoung squeezed her shoulder again.

“Let’s hope we don’t have to,” Seokmin spoke up.

“So, what happened in town?” Wonwoo had asked as the pack finally settled into the living room to discuss the aftermath.

Things were calmer now. Mates were relaxed together, Wonwoo and Danbi were sitting beside each other on the couch and softly talking to each other, and Eunjin looked peaceful as she looked curiously around the room. For once, things felt normal, which was a rare occurrence for the pack.

“I can assure you that the son-of-a-bitch Donghae is dead,” Soonyoung nodded. “Our little Suvi is safe – oh, and happy birthday, by the way.”

Chan held Suvi a little closer to his side – he had returned from disposing of the tracker, and Suvi’s arm was healed thanks to Joshua – pressing a kiss to her temple and making the girl blush. It made both packs happy knowing that he didn’t have to worry about her anymore. He could just be with her.

“Does anybody care to explain the _____ situation?” Danbi wondered slowly. “She freaked out before she left, and came back out cold.”

Obviously the pack had noticed Hansol hadn’t come back yet even though they’d seen Rika wandering around, so nobody was sure what happened to him or you. Those who weren’t there to see what happened did, however, notice Wonwoo’s gold eyes suddenly look down at the floor. Danbi just knew he did to you what he had done to Jooyeon her first night at the wolves’ house.

“Well…” Soomin began, since she was one of two mates to come with the pack.

Jeonghan clamped a hand over her mouth.

Danbi, however, knew that this was a dead giveaway that you being passed out was her brother’s doing, “Wonwoo!”

“It’s not his fault,” Hanbin suddenly appeared from the kitchen, carrying two mugs in his hand, which he started handing to mates. “_____ was becoming hysterical.”

“Somebody didn’t come back. Who died?” Jia wondered bluntly, though her voice was soft.

She was the only one who didn’t know because nobody wanted to be the one to tell her. Jiung’s pack was grieving and they could hear everything. Nobody wanted to talk about it and make it worse.

Hanbin sighed, a crease forming between his brows, “Our alpha, Jiung.”

“He sacrificed himself for Hansol,” Eunjin spoke up, her voice quiet and airy like her head was somewhere else – and judging from the spacey look, it was. “That’s why I thought Hansol was the death… He indirectly caused it…”

“But Hansol’s also _____’s mate,” Seungcheol continued, making the mates and Chan look up at him in surprise.

Before anyone could say anything, though, Danbi spoke up, “That doesn’t explain why Wonwoo had a vile of that sedative with him!”

Her brother just shrugged, “After Jooyeon, I just kept it on me.”

Hanbin continued to go back and forth from the kitchen – eventually assisted by his mate, Jimin – until each of the pack had a hot cup of tea in their hands. It had started pouring after the pack came inside, but the rain eased up as the tension in the room became less and less. Still, water continued to fall from the sky, and Seokmin refused to look at anybody as he sipped his tea.

“You can all stay here for a little while before going to the other house,” Hanbin said, mustering up a soft smile. “I’m sure Hansol wants to be with _____ anyway.”

“What happens to her?” Joshua suddenly asked. “From what I know, if the werewolf had a werewolf sibling by blood, the sibling becomes alpha.”

“An alpha can also denounce their alpha status if they leave their pack,” Soomin spoke up, being an expert on this thanks to Beom. “If Kyung chooses, she doesn’t have to be their alpha. However, if she wants to be alpha but chooses to come with us to be with Hansol–”

“Doubtful,” Jeonghan commented.

“–then she cannot be her pack’s alpha,” Soomin concluded, ignoring Jeonghan.

“Look, that’s _____’s choice,” Seungcheol spoke up, “and she’s not around, so let’s not discuss it.”

“Let’s discuss how Wonwoo drugged yet another girl,” Danbi spoke up, making the pack erupt with laughter, happy her comment could ease more of the somberness. “You’re really on a roll, Woo.”

“Yeah, he’s really a peach,” Soomin nodded, making Wonwoo’s face turn red as he smiled and rolled his eyes.

The pack started to fall asleep in various places of the living room, but Eunjin had noticed Seungcheol excused himself and never returned. She recalled him going outside, so since she was one of the only people still awake -- the voices wouldn’t let her sleep -- she decided to go see what was up. She figured he just couldn’t sleep, and she didn’t blame him considering the events that had occurred.

Eunjin opened the front door and poked her head out. Standing by the railing of the porch was Seungcheol, looking up at the stars. She stepped outside and softly closed the door, walking over to stand beside him. The wood of the deck was cold on her bare feet but it felt nice.

Even though Eunjin sometimes unintentionally snuck up on even the wolves, the alpha knew she was there and began talking to her, still staring up at the stars, “Do you believe in Heaven?”

Her brows furrowed, “What?”

“I wonder if that’s where Jiung ended up,” he continued, his voice soft. “Or maybe ghosts exist and he’s still around. I don’t know if those voices are ghosts or just...something else.”

Eunjin frowned, looking up at Seungcheol, “You don’t feel guilty, do you?”

He shrugged, “I just feel…sad. He shouldn’t have died. He wasn’t just a leader and a pack brother, he was somebody’s twin brother. He was such a caring person, it just– The whole situation just sucks.”

They both knew the pack was worried for Hansol because of what happened. You blamed him, and Hansol even blamed himself. Not only that, but Joshua pointed out that you weren’t doing well emotionally, and clearly lashed out without thinking things through. If you did anything to yourself, nobody was sure what would happen to Hansol. Sure, he would be patient with you, but if you just flat out denied him, you’d both die. If you ran off and did something to yourself… The question that people wondered was if Hansol would be able to carry on like Joshua had, or if the heartache would be too much for him.

Seungcheol was probably more worried about that right now. Hansol was the second youngest in the pack and Seungcheol wanted to make sure he’d be okay. The alpha wanted to somehow help, but he didn’t know how to. What could he say to help the situation? What could anybody say?

“Where’s Hansol?” the banshee wondered quietly.

“He’s just waiting outside _____’s door,” he replied with a sigh, finally looking away from the stars to look down at his hand on the railing. “He wants to give her space, but he wants to be there for her, too. Jaesang told him that _____’s feeling just as conflicted.”

“Sounds familiar,” she murmured, raising your eyebrows as she recalled not only her own confliction with Seungkwan, but the stories she heard of the alpha and Jooyeon.

Seungcheol chuckled, his golden eyes looking down at his sister, “Kinda does, huh? I guess our pack has an issue with conflicting feelings.”

Eunjin let out a soft sigh and simply nodded. She thought it would be weird to tell Seungcheol that she had a feeling everything would eventually be okay because of what the voices were telling her, so she opted to just leave the conversation on a somewhat lighthearted note.

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phantomwarrior12 · 3 years

Text

Desperation (Ch. 1)

He's so still.

His chest rises and falls in such a subtle rhythm that she's placed her hand against it nearly a dozen times in the last hour to ensure he's still breathing.

From what she could gather from the wreckage, he had used the last of his Light to brace a crumbling building, protecting the civilians inside. When the shield caved, he'd braced it with his shoulders until everyone escaped. It's where she found him, unconscious and half buried beneath rubble.

It took half an hour to dig him out by hand, another twenty minutes to maneuver him into a position she could use to get him up. She expected him to be heavy, he is after all, a seven foot Titan but he exceeded even her expectations. She couldn't fully brace his weight given her own weakened state, so she'd had to drag him into the nearest cover and prop him against a wall as best she could. They've been here for hours, she isn't sure when nightfall had been, all she knows is that it's dark and cold and her Titan isn't awake.

She's afraid he won't regain consciousness. His Ghost has stuck close to his side, doing her best to monitor his condition but it doesn't put the Young Wolf's mind at ease. She stands and paces away to the window, scanning the streets for Cabal.

They're empty - just like the last seventeen times she's checked. It's a distraction at best, a way to pool that anxious energy into something. She doesn't want to think, to consider the ramifications of the loss of their Light - what it means for Lord Shaxx if he can't recover on his own. Her gaze flits over her shoulder to his slumped form against the wall, his head tilted down and to the left just as she'd left him hours prior and her chest constricts.

He has to wake up.

She pushes off the wall and makes her way over to him on aching legs. She winces as she eases down onto his lap and stares into his helmet almost expectantly. He doesn't move, doesn't flinch, doesn't offer so much as a singular grunt of pain as the palm of her hand cradles the side of his helmet, lifting and tilting his head to a more upright position.

Wake up. She pleads wordlessly, pressing her helmet against his. Please.

She half expects him to grip her waist and tug her against his chest like he always does. But he doesn't move. His hands lay motionless at his sides and her hands ball into fists around the collar of his neck wrap even as his head sags back down.

Wake up, Shaxx! The words are trapped in her throat, a violent desperation contained beyond lips that cannot speak as she drags him forward and shoves his limp form against the wall with all her strength as if to jolt him from his slumber. I need you. She sags against him, burying her helmet against the crook of his neck as silent tears trail and pool into the neckline of her shirt.

"Perhaps you should rest?" Ghost offers softly, "We can keep an eye on Lord Shaxx while you sleep. I'll wake you if anything changes."

Her little Light is terrified of losing her. She can hear it in the subtle tremor in his voice - a very real and tangible reality given the circumstances. Seeing Shaxx like this, seeing his Ghost try not to fret as she scans him again for improvements - she knows how much her own Ghost is trying to avoid that same train of thought

And she relents.

She slides off the Warlord's lap and slumps onto the floor beside him. She takes his hand in hers and holds it in her lap as she leans against his shoulder. She's tired. More so than she'd realized as she finally lets her eyes sag shut. His frame is warm and solid beside her, soothing in it's own right but she'd give anything to hear a soft snore or groan - anything to tell her he's alive and beside her. But he remains motionless, breathing and wheezing barely audible beside her and it's all she can cling to.

Wake up.

She lifts his arm carefully, sliding beneath the weighted appendage and curls up beside him. It's cold. Perhaps he's cold too? She shifts away ever so slightly, undoing her cloak and shakes it out, dust and dirt filling the air before she drapes it over them.

Now he should be warmer. She lifts his arm again, holding it around her shoulder as she leans against his chest, her cloak barely a barrier between the night chill but she tells herself it's enough - it has to be enough. If she still had her Light, she'd allow it to flare to a soft thrum, warm them both instantaneously.

And how she longs to be warm.

His breathing is rhythmic, catching periodically on what she can only assume is dust he inhaled during the collapse. But she needs more than that as her head rests above his heart and she listens. Faint yet strong - he's alive.

She sags against him in relief, fixating on the steady beating of his heart as it lulls her to sleep.

The next time she opens her eyes, Ghost is ramming against her shoulder repeatedly and it hurts. For the first time, she regrets giving him such a pointy shell and she lifts her head.

"Wake up, Guardian!"

She waves at him and he floats back as she leans forward, Shaxx's arm falling from her shoulder. She blinks away her exhaustion and tilts her head as the Ghost begins to ramble, her mind only registering the tail end of his panicked words.

"--there's movement outside. It sounds like it's getting closer."

Those two sentences send her into a fully alert state. She grabs her gun, darting to the window to peer outside. There's a Cabal patrol moving down the street. They're still far enough that they don't pose an immediate threat but if there are any sounds--

"What's going on out there? Talk to me Guardian."

His voice startles her and she nearly pulls the trigger on her gun from behind the scope. Her eyes dart back to him, the towering Titan slowly trying to get to his feet. Her gaze shifts to the approaching patrol and she scrambles over to him, landing on his lap in her panic, forcing him back down onto the ground.

"Guardian--"

Her hand clamps over where his mouth would be beneath his helmet and she shakes her head, holding a finger up in a silencing gesture. Her head turns back toward the window, straining to listen as the Warlord sags back against the wall. They stay there for what feels like an eternity, chest plate to chest plate, breathing in tandem before the footsteps fade and silence settles over them once more. Her shoulders sag in relief as her head drops to his shoulder, the soft padding of fur silencing any metallic clink.

He must be able to sense how tired she is. His arms encircle her and tug her forward into a firm embrace. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't what she needed the most right now. Her fingers curl around the edge of his chest plate and she melts against him, clinging to him as if he were life itself.

He's alive.

She can breathe again.

"I'm glad you're alright." He whispers, squeezing her as much as he can manage.

"We could say the same about you," Ghost supplies even as she presses closer, eyes squeezed shut beneath her helmet visor. "You gave us quite the scare there for awhile."

"It's alright now."

She pulls away slightly to look at him before lightly smacking his chest and he barely flinches - more so from surprise than from pain.

"I think I speak for both of us when I say: Don't ever do that to us again." Ghost chuckles softly.

Shaxx looks from the hovering Little Light to the Hunter staring up at him, "I believe you're right, little Ghost." His large hand gently cradles the indented edges of her helmet along her cheek, "You have my word, Guardian."

She inclines her head into his touch, closing her eyes as her own hand lifts to cradle his. Everything aches, even her heart in that moment. He's alright. He's alive. He's right here and yet? Her heart aches for him. Her fingers slip around his, gently pulling his hand away from her helmet so she can lean against him once more but she doesn't release his hand, merely grips it tightly as if he'll slip through her fingers again.

It doesn't seem to bother him. He rubs her back with his other hand for a long few minutes, bathed in peaceful silence and moonlight.

"Why aren't you wearing your cloak?" He asks abruptly, noting the large piece of cloth draped over him.

"You looked cold, she decided you needed it more." Ghost supplies while the Hunter remains comfortable against Lord Shaxx's chest.

He chuckles softly, a sound that eases the ache in her chest, "I appreciate that, Guardian."

"You two should rest," her Ghost suggests, "We can keep watch for awhile. We'll need to get moving at first light."

"Very well." Shaxx's eyes fall to the Hunter in his lap, no doubt very aware of how tightly she's clinging to him. By all rights, she should be ashamed, but nearly losing him is excuse enough to justify the vice grip on his fingers. "Sleep well, Guardian."

She snuggles a little closer in response before she drifts off in his arms, lulled by the steady beating of his heart and the calm, soothing rumble in his chest when he speaks.

I've got you, my little Hunter.

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

Chapter 2 (Dire Need)

Taglists are open! Send an ask/leave a comment to be added!

Forevers: @halo-2 @reaped-winnower @genken64 @sugarcoated44 @cayde-6 Shaxx's Guardians: @ataraxia101 @squirrel-stars @rain-wolf

#lord shaxx #shaxx x guardian #destiny shaxx #shaxx #the young wolf #solar subclass #solar hunter #gunslinger hunter #destiny 2 #destiny #destiny ghost #shaxx’s ghost #destiny fanfiction #destiny fic #phantom writes

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yetanotherhoeforpedro · 3 years

Text

Sinfully Armored

Chapter 6 - Anger Issues

Chapter 5

A/N: I’m sorry for totally mischaracterizing Thrawn, but I wanted him to be like this for the sake of the story…Please excuse my assumptions about Mandalorian culture...Also, a little CPR lesson to fulfill my educational mandate.

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“Am I supposed to quiver from fear at that name?” you drawled sarcastically, “Because, obviously, I am not.”

Her smile only grew wider. “Trust me, one day you will.”

“Can’t wait.” You flashed her a saccharine smile.

“You wouldn’t be joking if you knew what I am capable of, Jedi,” she warned you, the feigned amusement gone.

“You sure are capable of boring me to death.” You let out a yawn in emphasis.

“Darling, why must you hurt me like that?” Her holographic figure touched her chest dramatically.

“Quit the theatrics and get to the point,” Mando intercepted.

“Straightforward. I like that in a man.” She winked at him and you would have liked to rip her throat out simply for that.

“Anyway, you might not recognize my name, but I’m sure you know Grand Admiral Thrawn,” she went on. A shocked expression crossed your face before you could suppress it.

“I thought so,” she said triumphantly. “Now, I don’t know why he went through all this trouble just to get…you,” she wrinkled her nose in disgust, “but he must have his reasons. I guess he’ll tell you soon enough.”

“He’s coming?” It was an effort to keep your voice from shaking.

“Soon. Since you’ll not get out of this cell, I suggest you make yourselves comfortable.” With that, her holographic form dissolved.

At least you could let yourself crumble a bit now that she was no longer there to witness it. You began pacing the tiny cell while clenching and unclenching your hands. You just had to think…Maker, why couldn’t you think? There had to be some way out of here, you couldn’t be trapped. You couldn’t be left at someone else’s mercy, you couldn’t stay here, you had to get out…

A broad hand clamped down on your shoulder and halted your relentless pacing.

“What’s going on?” Mando asked as he spun you to face him.

“We have to get out of here,” you replied softly, still lost in your anxious thought.

“I know that.” He sighed. “Who is Thrawn?”

There had to be something in your expression then, because he added in a softer voice: “What did the bastard do to you?”

You swallowed against the dryness in your throat. “He…um…he…killed my family,” you breathed out. Though the truth was a bit more complex, he essentially did. Just then did you realize that you had never voiced it before anyone but Luke…and him.

“I’m sorry,” Mando responded after a moment.

“It’s okay,” you answered, though it obviously wasn’t. You simply couldn’t come up with anything else to say.

“Why would he be after you?” he inquired carefully.

“I’m not sure…maybe to finish what he started?” But that wouldn’t make sense, he could have killed you already…Instead, he was on his way here. Unless…unless he wanted to do it himself? You shook the thought off. “I thought…I believed him to be dead until a few days ago.”

You pulled your arms around yourself out of habit. You were used to giving solstice to yourself, to being the only one present when you spiraled downwards. But you weren’t alone right now and Mando was strangely good at comforting you. He pulled you in for a soft embrace and the feel of his arms around you served as a lifeline that kept you together.

“That’s the third time today,” you murmured into his armored chest.

“What?”

“The third time you caught me…I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m usually not this…weak…” You took a deep breath and were glad he could not see your face right now. Your cheeks were ablaze from embarrassment. Yeah, you had issues, but usually, you got it together…But everything has been piling up for the last few days and threatened to overwhelm you in a mighty avalanche.

“You’re not weak,” he replied firmly and tangled one of his hands into your hair. “You have a warrior’s heart, so you are used to confronting everything with violence. But this…this is not something you can beat back, it’s something you have to allow in and…you don’t want to feel helpless, so you’ve been suppressing it.”

Perplexed, you looked up at him. “Thanks for the psycho-analysis, though it was totally uncalled for.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, mirroring your sarcasm, “Now let’s get out of here.”

You nodded and the two of you began probing the wall for flaws. There didn’t seem to be a single spot your lightsaber could penetrate.

After a few minutes, you groaned in frustration. “She was right, this is pointless.”

“Calm down,” Mando said softly, “There’s more walls.” He pointed upwards and you silently cursed yourself for not even thinking of that. When had your common sense left you?

However, the ceiling was similarly secured. “Okay, now you can be frustrated,” Mando sighed.

“Not yet. There’s one more wall.” You grinned at him. “Do you suppose they would expect their prisoners to just…cut a hole into the floor?”

“Probably not, as prisoners usually don’t have any weapons on them and as it would be a certain death wish?” Mando supplied.

“Perhaps. But not for a Jedi and a Mandalorian.” You winked at him before slamming your lightsaber into the floor.

Nothing.

“Okay, so maybe they did expect this,” you conceded while releasing a wave of breath. “What do we do now?”

“To be honest, I don’t know,” your copilot responded in a grim voice, “The walls are impenetrable for your Jedi weapons, so what could possibly breach them? They seem to be made out of pure Beskar.”

“But…to make a whole cell out of Beskar…How could anyone, especially the remnants of the Empire, afford that?” you queried.

“Um…I think I heard that the Empire sacked almost the entirety of Beskar reserves after they…killed all those Jedi.” Mando swallowed.

“I can’t believe I’ve never heard of this,” you murmured, “Though I suppose it makes sense, what better way to protect yourself against the remnants of the Jedi than to possess the one thing lightsabers cannot cut through…” You paused for a second. “Mando, I know…I shouldn’t ask this and you probably shouldn’t tell me, but…why can’t it cut through Beskar? I know you forge all sort of things out of the material, so it has to have a melting point…and usually, lazers are as hot as it gets…”

Mando took his time to respond. “I guess you’re right…I never…never truly considered this,” he admitted.

“So maybe we should use a different source of heat?” you suggested and pointed to his weapon’s arsenal.

“It’s worth a try…and I guess that if I shielded you, I could protect us from the thick of the blow. If we put as much distance between us and the heatwave, we might survive it,” he wagered.

“I think it’s worth the risk,” you decided, “And I’ll…I’ll send a message to Artoo in case we don’t make it out. Luke will rescue Grogu if we…if we don’t make it.”

Mando nodded slowly. “Yes, I suppose there’s no other way. Get in that corner.” You did as he told you and covered in the corner while contacting Artoo. The cell was tiny, but this had to work. It just had to.

You studied Mando extensively as he placed the detonator on the opposite wall. If you were to die in a few seconds, at least he would be the last thing you saw. You couldn’t even judge yourself for harboring these feelings, there was no point to it anymore. For some reason, you felt oddly light for the first time in your life.

“Mando,” you began as he crouched down in front of you, overcome by the odd urge to tell him…you weren’t sure what exactly.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he interrupted you and put his arms around you. When you heard him push a few buttons on his glove, you instinctively closed your eyes. “I know,” you responded before the bomb went off.

It all happened too fast to realize it, but you recalled the feel of getting pressed back into the wall by something hard, pressing the air out of your lungs, as a loud bang pierced the air.

When you opened your eyes again, dark smoke filled the air and obscured your sight. The resonating ring of the explosion limited your hearing. You still had no grip on the Force; therefore, you were left almost completely senseless.

“Mando!” you yelled into the darkness while reaching for him blindly with your hands. Why wasn’t he next to you? Where was he? Your mind turned blank besides that mantra while you scrambled around on all fours, searching for any sign of him.

Finally, you felt something hard and cold under your hands. “Mando?” you gasped softly, the smoke slowly clearing and the ringing in your ears subsiding. He was eerily still.

“Mando.” You grabbed at his shoulders and shook him violently. No reaction. “Mando!” you screamed, “Wake up!” Maker, why was he not moving? With trembling movements, you pushed your finger under his helmet, searching for his pulse.

There. Something. It was weak, but it was there. You sighed in relief, though it was short-lived as you noticed that it was getting fainter and fainter, until it completely ceased. Shit. You had to do something.

“Mando, I am so sorry…I promise…I promise I won’t look.” You took a deep breath before you began to undo his chest piece. “I’m sorry,” you repeated before closing your eyes and removing his helmet. You leaned in to check his breathing. Nothing.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you die,” you whispered before you moved your hands to the middle his chest. You pressed down forcefully 30 times, then you moved to his head. You hesitated, but only for a split second, and crushed your lips on his. You blew as much breath as you had left in you into his airways twice before going back to his chest and repeated the motion countless times. Thanks to the adrenaline, your pushes and breaths remained sturdy, even after you believed you had no force left in you.

“Breathe, Mando,” you sobbed before moving to his lips again. You felt something stirring under your hands then and halted. And sure enough, you felt a feeble breath caressing your cheek. “Thank the Maker,” you breathed out as you took in the noticeable heaving of his chest. His torso was perfectly toned with muscles, his chest hair…

Realizing your blunder, you quickly shut your eyelids again and turned around. It was only his chest…surely, there was some loophole in his codex for that…there had to be. Did you just save his life only to destroy his way of life? Shit, how could you have been this careless? It must have been the ecstasy of the moment. He never had to know you saw anything.

The soft exclamation of your first name made you still.

“Mando?” Your voice cracked.

“You…you saved my life,” he whispered.

You shrugged. “Don’t mention it. I…I didn’t look.”

“I know. I trust you,” Mando replied, still straining for clear breaths.

You swallowed loudly. “Um…we have to get out of here. Do you think…you can walk?”

“Yes. I think the impact simply rendered me unconscious. Nothing severe.” You heard him don his armor again as he got up. Mando limped past you to the gaping whole in the wall. “I didn’t think this would work,” he murmured in wonder as you followed him out.

“Shit, how do we get back to the ship?” you hissed as the two of you left the first hallway. “I don’t remember the turns we took.”

“Well, thank the Maker you have me then,” Mando joked, though there no real lightness in his tone. “My helmet can track footsteps, so we’ll just follow them back to the ship.” He grabbed your hand and began to lead the way.

In spite of his slight limp, you had to hurry to keep up with his speed as he all but dragged you through the labyrinth of corridors. To your surprise, not a single droid crossed your path. They probably believed you were securely confined and you couldn’t help feeling a little smug at outwitting them.

You took another right turn and saw the entryway to your ship draw closer. “Artoo,” you spoke into your comm, “open the ship. We’re almost there!” He didn’t respond. “Artoo?” you repeated. No reply.

You halted in your tracks, pulling Mando back as well through the connection of your hands. “Something’s not right.” Mando slowly turned to you.

“Not this again,” he groaned.

“Artoo is not responding. This has to be another trap,” you argued.

“Do we have another choice? Let’s just get back to the ship already.” He pulled at your hand and you complied reluctantly.

“Artoo?” you tried again while you ran towards the docking place. Again, no reaction.

You were almost there, only a couple more meters.

“Now, where do you think you’re going?” an unfamiliar voice called.

You spun around in horror to face the blue skinned man standing behind you. His eyes were glowing in an unnervingly intense shade of red.

“Thrawn,” you uttered, your voice deprived of any emotions.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you. I have such big plans for you.” He produced a feline grin. Gosh, this had to be serious if he was getting his own hands dirty. “Though I must say, I find it very rude of you to disregard my hospitality like that.”

“Come on,” Mando whispered to you and pulled you a step back. But this was not a confrontation you wanted to avoid.

“Get back to the ship,” you ordered him absentmindedly, “I’ll deal with this.”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” he murmured softly.

“How poignant,” Thrawn drawled, “A Jedi and a Mandalorian. It has an air of poetry to it, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” Your eyes narrowed on Thrawn. “This doesn’t concern him, it’s between you and me.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” Your enemy's red eyes narrowed as well. “Guards, get the Mandalorian. I’ll deal with the girl.”

“Let’s go,” Mando urged once more, “We can still make it.”

You shook your head. Nothing would stand between you and your revenge now. This was the moment you had been waiting for you whole life. Jedi or not, you would relish in seeing the life drain from his alien eyes.

“Will you truly let your past take your future from you?” The disbelief and anger in his voice almost snapped you out of your madness. Almost.

He grunted in exasperation, but made no move to step away from you. Neither did he let go of your hand. “Then we’ll fight or way out together.” He dropped your hand the moment the guards arrived.

“Honestly, this is too sweet. The two of you.” Thrawn chuckled while pointing from him to you and back.

Not able to resist the temptation anymore, you lunged at him. Somehow, he sidestepped you easily, resulting in your blow landing in thin air. Somewhere behind you, you heard blastershots go off. You didn’t dare turn around to see how your friend was faring.

“Since when do Jedi,” the Grand Admiral spat out the word, “attack the defenseless?”

“I don’t mind making an exception for you,” you retorted, refusing to let his words get under your skin.

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not gonna fight you.” He smiled.

“Oh, that’s alright, I’m totally fine with just killing you then.” You smiled back at him.

“I’m afraid that won’t be an option,” he said and stepped aside to reveal the red-haired woman – Gad – emerging.

She unsheathed a purple lightsaber as she strode towards you in wide steps, her unbound red curls swirling around her like a living flame. “I’ve been looking forward to this moment for quite some time now.”

“Who are you?” you asked her, completely baffled.

“You know my name already,” she stated dryly.

“You know I’m not talking about your name.” As she drew closer, you reflectively positioned yourself into a fighting stance.

“I told you you would learn to fear me. Today is the day,” she replied instead, a devilish smile plastered on her face. Something tickled the back of your mind, but it was gone before you could grasp it. There was something about this woman…

With surprising precision, your enemy attacked. You deflected her blow and used her slight instability following the attack to return a blow, but she reacted quickly and spun to the side. In a movement too fast for your eyes to follow, she jabbed at your side. Without the Force, you were completely blind to the sudden strike and could only be glad that you redirected the blow in the last second to make it less fatal. Instead of directly stabbing you into your side, her blade only grazed at your back. You hissed in agony as it scratched your skin. Maker, it had been years since you last received a wound from another lightsaber, you had almost forgotten the intense burn of it.

“Do I need to remind you to not kill her?” Thrawn warned from the sidelines.

“Sure, sure.” Your opponent waved him off. “But you gotta let me have a little fun.”

You snarled at her and jabbed her right back, but she avoided your advance with a feline grace. She barked out a short laugh. “Oh, I haven’t had this much fun in years!” she shouted in ecstatic delight before charging at you again.

Following that, your fighting style went from offensive to defensive really quickly. While you felt the rage boiling inside you, you knew attacking her would be your doom. Mando was right, you should have fled when you had the chance. Mando…

Not able to stop yourself, you glanced over at him for a moment. He was practically surrounded by droids with electrostaffs and to your surprise, held a dark lightsaber in his hand himself.

Punishment for your distraction followed suit, as your rival kicked you hard, sending your lightsaber flying from your grasp. In panic, you tried to call it back to you, but there was still no tangible connection to the Force.

She pushed her glowing blade right up to your throat and you gulped at the heat radiating from it. “Game over, Jedi.” The word held even more venom coming from Gad’s mouth then it did when Thrawn had used it.

“You had your moment. Now get her to the cell,” Thrawn ordered, not commenting on the fight. You saw the frustration gleaming in Gad’s eyes, but she obliged. She turned her blade off before violently forcing your hands behind your back.

“This is not over,” she whispered into your ear and while you tried to fight it, you couldn’t suppress the terror her words awoke in you. You had never seen anyone fight like that, her speed and agility had appeared almost unnatural.

You twisted your head back to look past her at Mando, who was being forced to his feet by his opponents. Terrible guilt overcame you once again, had you not been this bent on getting your revenge…

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

“This sucks,” you complained. At this point, you were absolutely positive you’d go insane if you stared at the blank metallic wall in front of you in silence for another minute. Still, no reply came. “Mando, look,” you tried again with a sigh, “I’m – “

“Just shut up, okay?” a low voice cut you off. “I don’t wanna hear anything about it.” The audible resolve made you cease your pathetic attempts at apologizing. Frustration getting the better of you, you strained against your chains for what was probably the hundredth time in the last two hours.

“Would you stop that already? We’re not getting out of here,” your companion growled at you from the other side of the room. Well, at least he was finally addressing you, no matter how aggressively. Baby steps. So, you swallowed your rising anger back down and sagged against your confinements.

“I will get us out of here,” you responded quietly, though you weren’t entirely sure who you were making the promise to.

Mando simply scoffed in answer. It was extremely weird to hear him make these sounds without his mask modulating them, but the unpleasant reason for him being unmasked made you flinch slightly. Maker, how did you let this happen? Of course, the answer was clear, as, once again, your insufferable hotheadedness was to blame.

Another deep sigh left your body. “Shut. Up,” Mando snapped.

“I wasn’t saying anything,” you sneered back. So much for trying to resolve this conflict…

“Nar’Sheb, di’kut!“ Mando yelled back. Wow, insults in Mando’a. That was a new one.

“Okay, I have no idea what you just said, but could you please try to calm down? I’m sorry…about all of this,” you attempted in a soft voice.

“Doesn’t change a damn thing.”

The two of you were silent for a long time after that, the only noises in your cell the shallow breaths you took.

“I…I don’t know what overcame me…I just…saw him and…snapped,” you admitted into the quiet.

“I know,” Mando said, his voice a bit more serene, “but I would have thought you had a better grip on yourself. Considering you’re a Jedi.”

“This has nothing to do with me being a Jedi…this was about me and my family and he had them kil…” You took a deep breath.

“Do you think I don’t know what that’s like?” To your surprise, the gentleness had left his tone again. “The Empire killed my parents, but am I out there risking everything just to get ‘justice’? No. Because there is no such thing. No matter how many of them I might kill, it would never make it right. Killing them would not turn my parents alive again.”

You had no idea what to reply to that, so you opted for silence. It had been incredibly inconsiderate of you…You never even thought about his past, nor about that of all the other victims of the Empire. There were countless of them, but did they act as foolishly as you?

Killing individuals and seeking revenge above all was not harming the Empire. You had to focus on the big picture, strike at its heart…Maker, why was this only just now making sense to you? Had your judgement been so clouded by your emotions the entire time? And there you were, desperately suppressing your feelings for Mando while you let the truly harmful feelings – hate and fear – flourish inside of you?

“Fuck Mando, you’re right. I’m a fool. And a bad Jedi. But we have to think of a way to get out of here and fix this.”

“I know. They still have Grogu,” Mando replied solemnly.

“I’m sorry,” you said again.

“Stop apologizing,” he growled.

“Yeah, I’m sor – “ You cut yourself off.

“You know, besides failing Grogu, I am also a letdown for the Mandalore now,” he exhaled softly.

“What are you talking about?”

“That…sword I wielded earlier…it’s crucial to us. Whoever wins it in a fight is the rightful Leader of the Mandalore. When Grogu had been…taken by the Empire, I accidentally obtained it in a fight, even though I…didn’t really care about all that…power,” he explained.

“Do you now?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard. “What?”

“Do you want to be the Leader of the Mandalore now?” you asked curiously.

“I…I don’t know.” He sounded surprised at his own answer. “And I suppose now that I…lost it again, I’ll never know.”

Maker, as if you didn’t feel bad enough about yourself already. You swallowed the apology down before it could roll off your tongue.

“Not that I could even be a true Mandalorian anymore…” he added gravely.

“Mando, stop that. Just because…yeah, they saw your face, but it…it wasn’t your choice…” Which made this whole thing so much worse. It should have been his decision whether he wanted to reveal himself or not, but you took that away from him. Your rash, emotional decisions ruined his life. You were not used to that, as you were usually the only one facing the consequences… “Tell you what. We’ll kill them all and it’ll be like no one ever saw you.”

“Please, don’t joke about this,” he growled.

“I wasn’t…that was a promise, not a joke. I want them dead for what they did to you. I’ll avenge you, if it’s the last thing I do,” you vowed and meant it. You would make this right.

“You never learn, do you?” He sighed. “Revenge is what got us here. It’ll not be what gets us out of here.”

“I know,” you admitted quietly. You had come to that conclusion yourself mere minutes ago, but the habits of a lifetime were not easily changed. “But…you are still a full-fledged Mandalorian. The helmet is not obligatory, it was you own…way, right?” It was a poor attempt at comforting him.

“You’re one to talk about the irrelevance of personal ways…Do you seriously think I have not realized how badly you were trying to push me away? How you desperately tried to keep emotional distance? Why is it that you cling to that? I know not all Jedi behave that way, Luke…” He stopped.

“How do you know so much about Luke and his preferences?” you inquired and knew you hit the correct spot by his following silence.

“I…I shouldn’t have asked that,” you said after a while, regretting that your assumption was correct. “And you’re right, I have a…strange set of personal rules. But I am slowly realizing that…that I have no reason to shackle myself. I have clung to the old Jedi Codex which absolutely prohibited any romantic relations for the Jedi to honor those who…saved me. However, at the same time, I let hate and fear fester inside of me…And maybe I am not allowing myself to feel any…emotional attachment because…because of that hate and fear. To punish myself by not allowing those…positive feelings in and out of fear that…if I open myself and…love someone, I…I’ll lose them.” The words spilled out of you before you could register what you were saying. But somehow, voicing it made it even more clear. You had to change your foolish ways, as hard and painful as that may be. Mando said that you were used to being a warrior and that this was a different battle…Maybe he was right. Still, you believed your will – or rather stubbornness – to be strong enough to emerge vicious from this fight.

“Sometimes I wish…I could just take the helmet off and never put it on again,” Mando admitted quietly, “But I…who am I when I’m not the Mandalorian? The helmet and the armor give me the power to protect those I love and I am willing to make that sacrifice for that.”

You almost turned around to face him at that. Almost.

“But…you could have both. You could take the helmet off and remain a Mandalorian,” you argued softly.

“No. That’s simply not possible. There might be those who consider themselves Mandalorians and still take their helmet off, but…that’s not the Way. True Mandalorians barely expose themselves in front of other humans,” he replied firmly.

“Barely?” Curiosity coated your voice.

“Well…you can of course take it off in front of your…soulmate,” he disclosed quietly.

“Soulmate?”

“We take the whole…concept of souls really…seriously. ‘Manda’ actually means ‘soul’ and those who…stray from the Way, are ‘dar’manda’ – soulless.” You waited patiently for him to continue, totally intrigued by the description of his culture. His voice dropped a little: “When we…form a life union with our love, we share our soul with them. And…’Kir’manir’ means ‘to give one a soul’, but it’s also our term for ‘adopt’…Our families don’t necessarily share the same blood, and it’s also possible to…divorce your child or parent – Dar’buir…” You heard him take in a sharp breath before he continued. “When I…when my parents died, the Mandalorians took me in. They gave me a soul. I could never turn my back on that.”

“I…I don’t know what to say,” you confessed, “Thank you for sharing this with me…After my parents and my sister died, me and my little sister…it’s a long story, but we managed to flee from our home planet and…an old Jedi master who survived Order 66, took us in and taught us…however reluctantly…about the Jedi Order. My mother was one of them, so we…already knew the basics, but Master Yo…he helped us connect to the Force and explained the Jedi Codex to us. I always wanted to be a Jedi so I’d never be in a position where I couldn’t protect those I loved again…” You looked around. “Yet, here I am. It’s kind of ironic.”

“Where is your sister now?” Mando asked carefully.

“I…I don’t know. She just…left one day. She didn’t want to have anything to do with the Jedi. Or me.” You shrugged and ignored the sting you still felt after all those years.

“I’m…sorry,” Mando offered and you let out a breathless laughter. Apparently, he didn’t have an alternative expression either.

“It’s okay. Both of us dealt with the pain differently and I…I cannot condemn her for hating me. I let our sister die,” you whispered.

Your companion was silent, and you couldn’t blame him. What could one say in response to that?

“We will get out of here,” Mando vowed quietly after a while.

“I know. I just don’t know how yet.”

“We’ll find a way.” His voice held so much confidence that you couldn’t help believing him for a moment. “Close your eyes,” he added and though you were puzzled, you obeyed. “Turn around.” The chains that bound you rattled loudly as you did as he told you. A short silence followed, but before you could ask him what this was about, you felt his lips on yours.

The kiss was heartbreakingly tender and conveyed all the things the two of you had left unsaid. Mando gently cupped your cheek before breaking away. A breath of air touched your cheek as he leaned in to whisper into your ear: “And by the way, I won.”

In spite of your bleak situation, a smile formed on your lips. “No, you didn’t.”

Masterlist

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Taglist

@niiight-dreamerrrr

#the mandalorian/reader #din djarin/reader #slow burn #the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #star wars #too much direct speech #mando lowkey being a therapist #din djarin x reader #the mandolorian x reader

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strangeinternetwasteland · 4 years

Text

Shattered Reality- Chapter 2

Word Count: 4.2K

The next morning, or early afternoon really, you awoke the sunlight slipping between the curtains. Everything was so bright. Everything was so loud. The taste in your mouth was foul. Your lips were sticky, and you weren’t sure where you ended up. The last thing you remember was Sukuna holding up Kioko, and laughter. You were not sure how you got home. This wasn’t home. This was a grand bedroom, where everything in it looked really old, or too expensive to touch. Where were you exactly?

You hissed at how bright the room was, but sat up quietly, in case there was a person who happened to be in the room. You rubbed your eyes a few times to try to adjust. You looked around but found no one, and nothing that belonged to you besides the dress you wore from last night, and your purse on the bedside table. You heard distant shouting from outside but you weren’t sure as to where it came from. Your heart was racing and you felt the urge to run. You grabbed your purse off the side table and headed for the bedroom door. Your head was aching, and you felt your stomach lurch. You knew you were hungover, but being hungover in a place you didn’t know was not like you at all. You knew you had only a few minutes to find a bathroom. Judging by the size of the room, there must’ve been a bathroom, attached to the room or inside the room.

You searched along the walls to find another door handle. With luck you spotted one and threw the door open. It was a walk- in closet that was the size of your studio apartment. ‘I could live in here and no one would ever find out’ you thought. Your stomach lurched again, but you felt the sickening burn of vomit rising. You closed the closet door and ran out of the room desperately searching for an appropriate place for you to literally spill your guts. You collided with a ficus, which in your opinion were gaudy, and never necessary as decor. You stumbled a few more feet into another door. You flung this one open with all you could muster. You eyed the contents inside this room and cheered in your brain. You ran straight to the toilet that was inside, and let all the contents of your stomach empty inside.

A deep chuckle filled the room. Whoever the laugh belonged to didn’t matter, you didn’t care enough to look at them. As you vomited, your head deep in the toilet, you felt warm hands on the back on your neck tugging your hair back gently. You were grateful for the person that was in the bathroom. You’d’ve cut your own hair if you got throw-up in it. Your throat was raw and stinging, you would’ve died for a glass of water. You heard the sink turn on and then off in an instant.

“Here, drink this.” The mysterious voice said to you, as a glass was brought to your hand. You took it and gulped it down. The cool feeling on your throat felt refreshing. You held the cup up and wordlessly asked for another refill. Again the cup was filled and handed to you. You didn’t say a word. You wanted to thank the person helping you, but was too afraid to look. You didn’t even know where you were for fuck’s sake. You finally feel your stomach settle down a bit. You move your head from the toilet bowl to stare down at the floor.

“We should get some food in your stomach, even if it’s something small. I know Kioko is awake. Honestly, she’s so combative after a night of drinking.” The voice that spoke sounded familiar.

“Here, take two of these for now. They’ll help with your head.” Two unassuming white pills were placed into your hand, along with a third cup of water to help you swallow down the pills. You closed your eyes and leaned your head against the cool ground. You didn’t feel the need to get up at all. You actually could’ve stayed on that bathroom floor all day.

“Y/N. Come on let’s go eat.” Your eyes flew open. You knew this person, well knew each other well enough for them to know your name. Panic flooded your body, what if they had kidnapped you? What if they were going to chop you pieces and send you piece by piece back to your family? Your imagination was running rampant. You really didn’t want to face the body behind the voice.“No. I am okay. Take me home.” You finally managed to say to the other body in the bathroom. Another deep chuckle. Your stomach fluttered at the sound, this caused you to furrow your eyebrows. Why would that make your stomach flutter?

“Stockholm Syndrome!” You exclaimed without realizing you were speaking aloud.

“Two things there, first, I am honored you’ve fallen in love with me after one night. Second, I am not your captor. If you must know, I tried to get your address, but you had fallen asleep the moment you got into the car. I just brought you back here. I do believe it’s not considered kidnapping if you’re willing. However, if I were forcing you to stay, we wouldn’t be staying here. We’d go anywhere in the world of your choosing.” The man explained. Hearing his comment made you laugh harder than you expected. Your nervousness eased a bit.

Feeling brave, you decided to take a peek at this kind stranger. You pushed your body off the floor and sat up. A fresh wave of nervousness washed over you. You were met with an easy smile and familiar blue eyes. In the daylight, he looked angelic somehow.

Voices from behind the door that were shouting from earlier were quickly growing closer.

“Kioko you’re irresponsible! What about your friend? Did you even make sure she got home safely? That’s a liability not only to our family, but the business.” A second male voice was yelling. Gojo’s demeanor had changed from relaxed to on guard.

“Whatever, Geto. I cannot do anything to ever please you. You’re just like dad. Impossible, unhappy, and quick to judge. For your information, I do care about her. She’s my best friend!” Kioko shot back. You gave a confused look to Gojo, trying to gage the situation. He looked at you, smiled and held his hand out signaling for you to stay where you were. He walked out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

“I don’t know what is going on right now with you two. Geto, Kioko’s friend, Y/N, spent the night here. Right now, she’s feeling sick in the bathroom. If you’d like to take this argument elsewhere I am sure it would probably help ease her headache. Now, I am going to try to find something quick for her to eat. Kioko, you know, Geto is just trying to make sure the family is protected.” Gojo tried reasoning with the siblings. Geto seemed to have visibly relaxed.

“Oh, uh, good work Gojo.Yes, we should feed her, at the very least. Thank you for your duty to the family.” Geto quickly turned on his heel and left. Kioko rolled her eyes and walked past Gojo into the bathroom where you were. Annoyance was splashed all over her face.

“Hey there, love.” Kioko cooed at you softly as she stroked your hair. She was always very caring. You smiled at her.

“Hey.” You replied back meekly.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” Your best friend asked. You shrugged your shoulders in response. Hearing the argument between the siblings raised some questions inside your mind. You tried shaking them off for the moment.

“Why don’t we go downstairs to the kitchen and have the staff whip something amazing up for you to eat?” Kioko asked you while standing up to flush the mess you made in the toilet. Normally, you’d be embarrassed, if it were anyone else, but the number of times that you’d done the same for her, you decided she owed you. She grabbed some mouthwash from underneath the sink and placed it on the countertop.

“I don’t want you to have gross breath.” She told you. You willingly took this offering, rinsed your mouth thoroughly and spit it out. You made sure you left no evidence behind, and replaced the mouthwash to its home. You followed Kioko through the giant maze of an estate that she called home. After five minutes of walking you tried to remember the layout, but only were left more confused.

You finally arrived in the kitchen, where the most heavenly aroma hit your nose. The smell of sautéing onions and mushrooms made your mouth water. Taking in the grandeur of the kitchen, where everything was so clean, and shiny. The meals you imagined yourself cooking in here made you wonder if this all was a dream after all.

“Mmmm… That smells delicious.” Your stomach grumbled in agreement. Your eyes fell on Gojo’s back.

“Kioko, did you eat, or should I make some for you as well?” He asked turning his attention behind him to you two.

“You know I’d never turn down anything you make.” She replied. He nodded and continued his meal preparations.

“You’re lucky. Gojo doesn’t cook often, but when he does. It’s like sex.” Kioko told you.

“I’d like sex with that.” You replied quietly without thinking. Kioko stopped her texting and stared right at you.

“I am sorry. What did you just say? You want-” You clamped her mouth shut as quickly as possible. Your face grew red and you knew that Kioko would find a way to tease you about this.

“Hey, sorry Gojo. I am going to have to pass on this. Father wants to speak to me about something boring or college.” Kioko winked at you. “It will probably take a few hours knowing him. Y/N, you feel free to stay as long as you’d like, raid my closet for a cute outfit or the pool is open, so you can go swimming, if you’d like. Otherwise, I am sure Gojo can take care of anything you need in the meantime, he’d probably give you a lift home if you wanted, too.”

“I can take care of Y/N. Go talk your father, he’s not a very patient man.” Gojo said with an ice cold edge to his voice. You felt the temperature in the room drop a few degrees.

“Have fun being alone with Gojo.” She told you in a low voice only you could hear and walked out the door. You knew she was lying, and weren’t sure why she’d leave you alone with someone who was like an older brother to her, but you were thankful she didn’t tease you mercilessly about it.

The silence that settled over the kitchen after Kioko left was comfortable. While Gojo kept cooking, you watched his movements. Your eyes traced over his shoulders and back. Today, he was dressed more casually, with a t shirt that fitted his arms. The more you stared, the more his form was being etched into your memory. You had noticed a tattoo peeking out from the bottom of the sleeve of the shirt. It wasn’t abnormally large or intricate, but rather simple. You got out of your seat and moved closer to get a better look.

Just as you were getting closer Gojo turned around and placed a plate down on the large island next to where you stood. He gave you a knowing look, and turned back around. He grabbed a fork out of one of the many draws that were lined around the room, and placed it down. Next, he went to the fridge to get you a drink. He stuck his head out and called out to you.

“Hey, what do you want to drink? There is water; flavored, sparkling, coconut, and bottled. There are various lemonades, juices,and milks. Practically anything you could ever ask for is here in this fridge. In this fridge, he pointed to the next fridge, there is any type of alcohol you wish.”

“I’ll just have a bottle of water, please.” You said in disbelief. You didn’t notice the kitchen had five refrigerators. Gojo grabbed a bottle of water and placed it in front of you.

“Now. Eat.” He looked at you expectantly. You grabbed the fork and plunged it into the food before you and brought the bite to your mouth. The taste was exquisite. The eggs were fluffy, the mushrooms mingled with the taste of the onions. The amount of cheese was perfect. You closed your eyes to enjoy it. Gojo smiled and pushed himself off the island happy that you were satisfied with the omelette he prepared for you. He started cleaning the dishes he’d used and let you eat in peace.

With each bite you were more and more impressed. ‘A man that looks good, and can cook, what’s the catch?’ You thought to yourself. You found yourself staring at Gojo once again. You were wrapped in your thoughts.

“Gojo, I heard the word ‘family’ thrown about in a few different ways earlier. Judging Geto’s tone, and the way this house looks. I want to say you’re all part of the mafia or something.” You said jokingly. Gojo looked you dead in the eyes, and any playful nature of his had fallen away. Honestly, the abrupt change scared you more than you would’ve liked to admit.

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.” He said his voice ice cold and dead. You were unsure how to react to what he had said. He took your empty plate and put it into the sink.

“Thank you, Gojo. I appreciate the time you took to make me something to eat.” You finally decided on what to say.

“Oh, you’re welcome, I can show you to Kioko’s room if you’d like to change, or I could give you a ride home, if you’d rather.” He spoke as if he hadn’t just scared you so deeply.

“Oh. There’s no need for a ride home. I can just call an Uber or Lyft, taxi perhaps but I’d really love to change into something that isn’t this.” You told him. He smiled at you, and gestured to you to follow behind. Again you walked around the large estate, unsure of which hallway led to where, and how anyone could actually navigate this place, you ran straight into Gojo’s back because you weren’t paying attention.

“Here’s Kioko’s room. Feel free to make yourself comfortable. If you need anything just ask, I’ll be around, but in case I am not, here’s my number.” He took your hand and brought it up to his lips, placing his card in your other hand. He winked at you and walked away.

Your heart stuttered as you walked into Kioko’s room. Her room was exactly as you’d expect it to be. Clothes were strewn about in every direction, her walls were a very pale purple. The posters of pop stars were amusing to you, but the photographs she had taped to the wall stole your attention. Many of them were of things, or places she’d visited. A few from when she was little, she was a very beautiful child, and looked happy. There were a few of Geto and Kioko together where they looked miserable, and forlorn. You saw a couple of you and her together in high school, at the first dance you two ever attended. One at prom, and graduation.

“Ah, the memory wall.” You heard your friend say. “I have more, but I am not sure where they are at the moment. You’re in my room so quickly, I’d thought that you two would’ve taken your time. Rumor is that Gojo loves to go slow.” She changed the topic so quickly.

“Oh, no. I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think we’re compatible, and I honestly didn’t mean what I said. I wasn’t thinking straight. I can’t fall for every nice guy I meet. That’s how I get my heart broken.” You said uneasily.

“Girl, I know. I was teasing you. I had to do it just once. Anyway, you wanna go hang out in the pool for a bit?” She asked you. You honestly, didn’t want to ever leave this place, it was paradise compared to the tiny little studio you lived in.

“Yeah, but I don’t have a bathing suit.” Kioko rummaged through three drawers taking out various pieces of clothing.

“Not a problem, here are seven I’ve never worn, I have about ten more around the room. I really should clean this up, but I don’t feel like it.” She admitted to you. Your eyes must’ve popped out of your head. Kioko giggled at your reaction and shoved the pile of swimsuits at you. You browsed through them, they were mostly two pieces, and very revealing. You found a white one piece that had a deep cut in the front, but looked like it would cover the most important parts of you. You stripped out of your club dress and underthings. You took the bathing suit and put it on. It unexpectedly fit you well. The sides were cut out, but you felt sexy in it. You turned to show Kioko.

“Hey, how does this look?” You asked your friend.

“Holy fuck! You look hot as hell in this!” She gushed over you. She clicked a picture of you, and showed you. You had to admit that this bathing suit looked good.

“I do know a certain someone, who won’t be able to take his eyes off you when he sees you. If he doesn’t drool over you. I’ll murder him myself.” She joked but honestly it left you feeling a little unsettled. You pushed that feeling down, knowing that Kioko wasn’t actually like that. Kioko found a very tiny black bikini that showed off a lot of skin. It wasn’t anything you’d have chosen for yourself, but she looked amazing in it.

Kioko grabbed her phone, and your wrist and dragged you down to the pool. It was huge, it looked like something out of a movie. There were chairs all around to obviously accommodate many people. It all seemed surreal. Kioko spoke to a nicely dressed attendant. She walked over to where a few lounging chairs were placed close together near a table.

“Kioko, this is all amazing. Thank you for letting me stay here for the evening, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” You told her. She just giggled that magical giggle.

“There’s nothing to worry about. You’re my best friend and you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like. Oh! I was thinking about this summer. I know this is our last year of school and we should celebrate. We could take the jet to go for a shopping spree in Paris! Or See the sights of Italy and drink wine!” She was very animated and excited at the prospects of a fun filled summer vacation. You wish you could’ve been excited, but you knew that you had to work for the summer just to pay for school.

“Ki, that all sounds amazing, truly, but I need to work in order to pay for school. I can barely afford that as it is. Much less the vacation you’re planning” You responded to her. She waved your words away as if they meant nothing. It made you a little upset that she didn’t take your position in life into account when planning. “There’s no need to worry about all that dear.” She told you as she waved over an attendant. You were too lost in your thoughts when Geto and Gojo had approached the two of you.

“Hello, again, Y/N. Are you finding yourself well today?” Geto asked you with curiosity. “You seem lost in your own mind. May I inquire what has your mind so twisted up that you’re frowning?” He asked you with a bit too much intensity in his gaze.

“Oh… It’s- uh..” You stammered out.

“Hey, what’s with the interrogation, Geto?” Gojo clapped Geto’s back.”Let the girl enjoy herself. You’re too intimidating sometimes.” He added with a laugh.

Geto cleared his throat. “My apologies, I forget that humans are easily frightened.” Gojo winked at you, and tugged his shirt off. His shirt revealed the tattoo you were looking for earlier, it was an ellipses(three periods). Three in a row on his bicep. The artwork on his body was a wonder. The colors and images he chose to decorate his skin with were quite intriguing. You saw a wolf, a compass, with the word family written around it, a few geometrical shapes. The most interesting ones besides the compass, were the ones on his middle fingers that read loyalty and respect in the most beautiful calligraphy you’d ever seen. Your eyes raked over every inch of exposed skin. The abs that seemed to have been carved into his skin didn’t keep you from staring at all.

Geto too removed his shirt. He too had various tattoos all over his back, arms, and shoulders. You noticed that he too had a tattoo of an ellipses on the opposite arm of Gojo. He had a raven where Gojo had a wolf, and didn’t have any one his fingers as Gojo did. ‘Wonder why I didn’t notice the tattoos earlier?’ You questioned yourself.

“How cute! You two have matching tattoos!” You blurted out loud. Geto and Gojo exchanged uneasy and knowing looks.

“Y/N! We should get BFF tattoos for your birthday! It is coming up shortly!” Kioko shouted. You couldn’t help but laugh at your friend and her easy attitude toward everything. A few hours passed by, a few cocktails were consumed by all, and a few embarrassing stories about you were shared. As the sun dipped lower in the early summer sky, the guys were showing off their skills, and competing with one another over everything. You loved how the easiness of how this afternoon had felt, a reminder of your childhood. You did long for those memories again, but you didn’t dare let that ruin this day.

“Hey,Y/N! Who do you think is the better looking one?” Gojo asked from the driving board. Honestly, you wanted to say him, but Geto wasn’t all that bad looking on the eyes either. You debated with yourself for another moment before speaking.

“It isn’t about looks, it’s about personality, and you well you’re treated.” You responded with a flirty smile. This response made Geto laugh a little. You thought for a moment that you imagined it.

“Was that a laugh, Geto?” You asked him feeling brave. “Here I thought you were this cold, emotionless, boring person who didn’t really care about anyone but himself.” You added. Everyone laughed again.

“Damn, Geto, she’s known you for less than a day and nailed you down perfectly.” Kioko said.

“Hey! Is this where you are? It’s 8pm already, we need to go.” The recongnizable voice of Sukuna said. Your eyes widened.

“8, already?!? Shit! I need to get home. I start work at 5am tomorrow.” You kept cursing under your breath.

“Oh, I can take you home if you’d like.” Geto offered. Without hesitation you accepted.

“Yeah, that would be great. Let me just change into my clothes and we can go.” You say.

“Oh no, no need, love! Keep the bathing suit, I can grab you something to wear quickly, and bring your clothes to you later!” Kioko told you as she walked away into the house. After 10 minutes, you had more clothes than you arrived with, thanks to Kioko, and were on your way back to your house. The drive with Geto was unsettling and quiet, but it didn’t last very long. As he pulled up to your tiny complex, he gave it a glance over, unbuckled himself, and walked around to your side of the car.

“Let me walk you to your door.” He offered you his arm which you took hesitantly. Luckily enough, your studio was on the first floor of the complex. You pulled out your keys to unlock your door.

“Well thank you for everything. I hope you have a great night! We’ll probably see each other soon.” You told Geto.

“Let’s hope we do, but for your sake, watch out for Gojo.” Geto pressed a kiss to your cheek. You gave him a small smile and walked into your apartment. Geto didn’t seem as scary when it was just the two of you, but it did see m a little weird for him to warn you about his best friend. The thought left your mind the moment you walked in your tiny bathroom to shower. Cleaning off the last 24 hours from your skin, you closed your eyes and felt yourself grow tired. You finished your shower quickly, set your alarm, plugged in your phone and went straight to bed. You only needed to sleep, and nothing more.

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#gojo x reader #modern au #mafia au #saturo gojo #suguro geto

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sithsecrets · 4 years

Text

A Matter of Expediency - Part IV

After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

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Part 4

2.6K words

Mentions: verbal arguing, physical fighting, swearing, vulgar insults

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For the second time in a week, you find yourself surrounded by your ladies as you soak in the bathtub. It’s eerily quiet now, quieter than it was when all of you first did this.

Sabe’s bathing you again, more out of nervous need to do something than anything, you think, but everyone else sits in silence. You let her clean you, unsure of where you should start with all of this. You feel like your conversation with the Supreme Leader occurred days ago, yet he’s only been gone for less than an hour.

“Your ring is ridiculously big,” Sabe tells you, teasing in a rather subdued way as she run soap over your left hand.

“You’re just jealous that no man’s every given you a piece of space itself,” Joon counters, sticking her tongue out at Sabe when Sabe shoots daggers her way.

Joon’s smart remark cuts the tension, but Helda’s innocent little giggle breaks it entirely. You finally crack a smile, eternally grateful that all of your friends love to poke fun at one another.

“It’s not a piece of space,” you say, looking down at the prettiness of your ring. “It’s a gemstone. Not even the First Order is capable of capturing the stars.”

Sabe rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning as she does it. “One man buys her a piece of jewelry and now she fancies herself a poet.”

Lydia snorts at that, recoiling when you splash her with a bit of water for it.

“I love my ring,” you declare evenly, sinking down further into the water. Sabe pinches your side, grinning mischievously.

“Yes, but do you love Kylo Ren?” she teases. You splash her too, managing to douse the front of her dress fairly well.

Helda laughs at that, and you have to grab Sabe’s arm to stop her from attacking the girl with a splash of her own.

“I think that’s enough,” Lydia says, moving behind you to wet and wash your hair. Her touch is relaxing, and you let your eyes slip closed as she massages your scalp.

“What did the two of your talk about, besides your little piece of the galaxy?” It’s as close as Lydia will come to a jest, but you know that she’s far more concerned about the Supreme Leader’s treatment of you.

“Where he got the rings from, the wedding,” you answer, casual even as you remember how you nearly stormed out of the room when Kylo insinuated that he wasn’t excited for the ceremony.

“That’s all?” Lydia asks, still working the shampoo through your hair.

You hesitate at that, considering the implications of being honest for a moment.

“He offered me an out,” you admit quietly.

Lydia’s fingers still in your hair, suds slipping down her wrists and onto your shoulders. Sabe and Joon are slack-jawed, simply staring at you, and Helda twists her hands nervously in her skirt at the sight of everyone’s disbelief.

“What do you mean?” Lydia asks, seemingly the only one able to speak. You refuse to look at her or at anyone else, for that matter.

“He said he wouldn’t marry me if I didn’t want to be his wife,” you explain, biting your lip.

“Then why do you still have that ring on?” Sabe asks, and there’s an edge to her voice that makes the back of your neck prickle.

“Sabe-“ Joon begins, already sensing a problem. Joon’s always been good at that, cluing in on people’s emotions before they have chance to spike.

“No, Joon, shut up,” Sabe barks, jumping to her feet. She’s furious, eyes ablaze, hands balled up tight by her sides. “You aren’t seriously going to marry him now, are you?”

Lydia begins rinsing the soap from your hair, making quick work of the task. All you can do is stare up at Sabe, wide-eyed as your mouth moves of its own accord. No words come out, only short, aborted sounds that make you sound like a fool.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Sabe spits, shaking her head as if she’s disgusted by the mere site of you.

Lydia’s done with your hair now, urging you out of the bathtub. “What is that supposed to mean?” you counter, deeply offended by Sabe’s demeanor. Helda’s by your side now with a towel and your robe, already trying to dry you and get you dressed.

“Your uncle practically sells you off to the galaxy’s biggest tyrant, and you mope around and act like you’ve been sentenced to death. Fine, I can understand that!” Sabe exclaims, throwing her arms up in exasperation. “But then the Supreme Leader himself gives you an opportunity to call the whole thing off, and you don’t take it? What the fuck is that?”

Everyone’s trying to talk now, you and Joon and Lydia all cutting in at the same time. Only Helda remains silent, standing off to the side and watching on anxiously, still twisting and twisting her fists in the fabric of her skirts.

“Sabe, you need to calm-“ Joon tries to say.

“I cannot believe-“ Lydia hisses, cut off by you.

“It’s not as simple as you’re making it out to be,” you tell Sabe. A feeling of anxiety clamps down on your chest, and you feel so cold in the warmth of the room.

Your statement incenses Sabe. “What makes it so complicated then, Princess? Hm? Because it seems simple to me.” She jabs her finger at you, almost accusatorily. “You were fucking terrified to marry Kylo Ren, but now you’re not, and all after one conversation with the man! Why is that?”

A wave of anger washes over you at that, it makes you shiver in your robe. “The Supreme Leader thinks I can help the Order,” you hiss, taking a step towards your friend. “He wants me to help him rule.”

“He said that?” Joon interjects, brows raised. You nod, at her, whipping your head around quickly.

Sabe’s scoff feels like a punch in the gut. “Why?” she asks, not looking for an actual answer. “Your uncle has you make appearances for diplomatic reasons and that’s about it. You’ve never led negotiations or organized a benefit. You’ve never commanded an army or drafted a peace treaty. You’ve never done anything.”

You don’t recognize the Sabe that stands before you now. You knew nothing of the cruel streak that she’s displaying, had no idea that she could behave this way. And what’s worse, she’s absolutely right— you’ve never done anything but sit beside your uncle and look pretty while everyone around you handled the real problems. Past your beauty and your womb, what do you have to offer your fiancé?

“Kylo thinks I’m a good fit,” you insist, but even you don’t believe what you’re saying now. Tears slip down your face as you cast your eyes towards the floor, ashamed of yourself for so many reasons in this moment.

Sabe laughs a cruel laugh right in your face. “Yes, a good fit for taking his cock—”

Lydia strikes Sabe across the cheek, and the sound of it is almost deafening. Helda and Joon visibly flinch, but you’re too shocked to move a muscle. One minute, Lydia was standing off to the side behind you, but now she in front of you, in between you and Sabe.

Lydia must be stronger than any of you knew, because the force of her slap throws Sabe into the countertop at her side. Sabe looks terrified, bracing herself against the marble. She goes to say something, possibly to apologize, but Lydia is in no mood to hear her talk anymore.

“You insolent, disrespectful, disgusting child,” Lydia hisses. Her eyes are bright with rage, and she stalks towards Sabe like an animal going in for the kill. “How dare you speak to your mistress that way? Were you dropped on your head, or are you really that stupid?”

“Lydia, I—”

“Shut the fuck up, Sabe,” Lydia spits. “I am so tired of your mouth. You have said quite enough! I cannot believe that you would talk to your friend this way. The Princess has loved you, and cared for you, and put up with every little thing that you do. And how do you repay her? By calling her a useless cocksleeve? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Despite Lydia’s rage, Sabe is still willing to challenge her. “I just can’t believe that she’s going to leave her home planet to marry that man!” She cuts her eyes to you, angry again, but your own rage burns underneath your skin like fire.

“There’s nothing for me here!” you scream. The fury in your voice is powerful enough to wipe the look off of Sabe’s face, and Helda retreats into the corner of the room.

“What do you mean?” Joon ask softly, concern laced into the nervous expression on her face.

“Well!” you exclaim, gesturing all about you. “What is there for me to look forward to? I have no power, no responsibilities of my own. My uncle doesn’t love me, that much is clear now. My cousins have never been nice to me, I don’t see that ever changing. I have no lover and no potential suitors, if you don’t count the Supreme Leader. I… I’m nothing here,” you say pitifully, losing stream now. You choke out a sob, unable to stop yourself, and Lydia lays her hand on your arm.

“I just…” you whisper, chin trembling. “I just want to be somebody, and I can’t do that on this planet.”

“Princess,” Joon breathes, coming to hug you. Lydia rubs your back, and even Helda cautions a comforting comment.

“You’re someone to us already,” she says, and you could burst into tears at the mere sound of her sweet little voice. You look at Sabe, thinking surely that her attitude has changed after your speech. But when you meet her eyes, there is nothing but contempt swimming in her irises.

“You’re just like your uncle,” she declares, and you nearly choke on the air of superiority wafting around her. Joon pulls away from you, surely turning to scold Sabe for what she’s said, but she doesn’t get the chance.

“You black-hearted little twit!” Lydia roars, and she’s on Sabe faster than you or Joon can stop her.

Lydia grabs Sabe by her arms, shaking her violently as she shouts right in her face. “Get out!” she screams, “Get out and don’t come back! You have no idea what the Princess is going through, and what’s worse, you won’t even try to understand! You’ve never known duty, or responsibility, and it shows in everything you’ve just said! If you hate her so much for what she’s decided to do, leave!”

And with that, Lydia lets go of Sabe, pushing her to the ground. Sabe catches herself on her hands, completely stricken as she tries to haul herself off the floor. “You’re not my mother,” she spits, and you cannot understand why she still insists on being so defiant. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Sabe’s up now, standing once more with a rigid posture. “You think you know everything because you’re older and you were married, but you don’t, Lydia. Your husband never loved you because you were a mean, spiteful, barren hag!”

Helda claps her hands over her mouth at that, and it takes everything you have to restrain Lydia. She fights you hard, no doubt bent on tearing out Sabe’s eyes.

(For a brief moment, you almost let her.)

“Sabe, get out!” Joon shouts, giving your vicious “friend” the final push she needs to flee from your chambers.

It takes just seconds for Sabe’s footsteps to fade in the corridor, and when they do, you, Lydia, Joon, and Helda are left to absorb all that’s just happened.

“What is wrong with her?” Joon demands, speaking to no one and everyone all at once. You suck in breath after breath, slowly relaxing your grip on Lydia.

“I have no idea,” you breathe. You feel like you should be crying, given the state of things, but you can’t make yourself sob.

You feel as though you’ve been hit head-on by transport ship. Every muscle in your body aches, and you feel like you could fall down at any minute. Joon must feel the same way, because she leans back against the countertop, rubbing at her temples.

In a moment of horrified clarity, you realize that Helda’s bore witness to every bit of the last twenty minutes.

“Helda,” you say quickly, looking over at her. She’s crowded herself in the corner of the room, as far away as possible from where you and Lydia fought with Sabe. Helda’s white as a sheet and trembling, hands still working nervously in the fabric of her skirt. You move to go to her, to offer her some comfort, but Lydia heads you off.

“Helda,” Lydia says, mimicking you. She walks to the child, arms outstretched, and the look of remorse of Lydia’s face is too apparent to be disingenuous. “Helda, I am so sorry I spoke that way in front of you.”

Lydia clutches Helda against her chest, and Helda lets her, not really returning the hug. “That was awful,” the child whispers, tears slipping down her face.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, to Helda and to everyone else. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have just talked about my engagement ring and left the rest of it alone.”

Joon shakes her head quickly, scoffing. “No,” she tells you, “you should be able to talk about whatever the fuck you want. Sabe should remember her place and try to have a little empathy for other people.”

“Precisely,” Lydia says, wiping at Helda’s face with a washcloth. Helda isn’t exactly perky, but her eyes have lost their terrified stare. “Sabe should support you and understand that not all of us get to galivant about without consequences or obligations.”

“I really could have broken the engagement off,” you say, letting Joon guide you to your vanity. She begins combing your hair, and Helda and Lydia come to gather around you. “But I just… I didn’t want to. I thought I did, but then the Supreme Leader told me that he wanted my help, and it made me… excited to get married. Maybe I am like my uncle…”

Joon scoffs, batting you lightly with the comb in her hand. “Don’t even say that,” she scolds, “you’re nothing like that man. All he wants it power and money. All you want is an ounce of respect and a fulfilling life.”

Joon moves aside at Lydia’s silent prompting, making quick work of braiding your hair.

“I want to be cared for, too,” you admit quietly, almost with shame.

“Well, who doesn’t?” Lydia asks simply. “You’re a kind, sweet girl, and you deserve to be treated as such.

“That’s Sabe’s problem.”

You’re surprised to hear Helda saying that, but yourself and the others turn to her nonetheless.

“What do you mean?” Lydia asks.

“Well,” says Helda, “everyone adores Sabe. All of the men and women at court think she’s pretty, and her parents are nice to her. Sabe’s never been disliked in her life, and it’s gotten to her head.”

It’s flooring to hear Helda talk with such mature clarity, and you can’t help but give yourself a jab for underestimating her. All this time, you and the others have thought of Helda as an inexperienced child, but it’s clear that she understands more than any of you thought.

“Let her go,” Lydia declares, tying off your hair as she casts an impressed look Helda’s way. “You have bigger things to worry about.”

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #ame #my writing

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adler-obsessed · 4 years

Note

Heyo, I’ve noticed in some of your posts about China that you seem to always hint about there being some kind of darkness within her? Like most other sp fans depict her as kinda a selfish bitch, but like you always paint her as very serene and yet there’s something just below the surface that isn’t so pretty and I think it’s a really interesting take on her. I was wondering whether you’d mind doing one of your awesome analysis posts on what gave you that impression, if it’s not too much to ask??

woo boy, this is gonna be a long one and sorry for the wait anon but exams were killing me and this one took a while to put together, but I hope you enjoy!

So, yeah I’ve always pictured China as a person who’s very much keeping her vicious nature under control and yet, sometimes there are moments we see a part of it come out and yeah, here’s me trying to explain that!

Alright, so there’s three main things that give me this impression - China’s inner monologues, descriptions of her by those who she previously worked with e.g. Eliza Scorn, and her combat style - I’ll go through each of these sections in depth.

China’s inner monologues:

One thing I find immensely interesting when it comes to China’s inner voice and/or dialogue is that it generally seems to be in conflict, mostly in the ways she wants to accomplish her goal - often when China was forced into action in phase one, one of the first things that always is mentioned is her doing something that she wouldn’t have done before/wasn’t her first thought when it came to handling the situation - often, her initial reaction is something much more violent, cruel and brutal. Often, she has to remind herself of her supposed facade, of her grace and serenity, before she acts in a slightly less violent manner than she was considering.

EXAMPLES:

Her finger hovered by her elbow. One twitch would be all it took, and the pain would rise so suddenly their hearts would burst. Instead, she flattened her hand...

She smashed his head into the wall. It was so satisfying, making them hurt.... she felt the power snap through him and his whole body jerked wildly and he collapsed. She looked down. So, so satisfying... she closed her eyes, relaxing.

“He will not condemn me for my past actions, so long as I don’t revert to the person I once was. The war with Mevolent changed everyone who fought in it. We each saw things in ourselves that we would rather not admit to.”

“You beat me last time because I had grown complacent,” she said softly. “I had lost my edge. But I’ve had a year to get my edge back. Feel how sharp I am, Eliza?”

“You do not want to upset me,” China said, pushing her cup to one side. “You wouldn’t like me when I’m upset.”

Indeed, we even see this conflict mentioned in her dialogue when she talks to Prave:

“You know,” China said, “there was a time when nobody dared threaten me. I just wouldn’t stand for it. The amount of people I killed, of bodies I twisted and bones I snapped, all because they had allowed their anger to momentarily overwhelm their good sense. I regret it all now, of course. I was out of control. I was indulging the darkness inside me far too often. I was not, Mr Prave, a very nice person. But I have changed. I have allowed the years to mellow me....

But every once in a while, I get the urge....The urge for destruction. The urge to hurt, maim, kill. It’s quite a thing, to experience that urge, to let it wash over you, to give in to it. It’s addictive. It’s all-consuming. You lose yourself to it. It’s quite, quite wonderful. I can feel it, even as I speak, tapping around the edges of my mind, trying to prise me open, slip its fingers in. And it would be so easy to let it happen. But we’re all like that, aren’t we? We’re all barbarians at our core. We’re all savage, murderous beasts. I know I am....I know I roar very loudly indeed. How about you? Do you think you can match me?”

Simply put, China’s true nature is one a lot more impulsive and a lot more brutal than the facade she puts up.

Descriptions by others:

Secondly, one of the key things that crops up when people from her past describe her is her inclination towards violence and action - China’s neutrality is a far more foreign concept to them than it is to us as the readers, and this really does show:

EXAMPLES OF HER NATURE:

“China, because she enjoyed that kind of thing, went after your wife. By all accounts, it was a knock-down, drag-out fight.”

“Look at her face, Prave. Isn’t it a beautiful face? Isn’t it the most beautiful face you ever did see? But beauty is so deceptive. Looking at her now, you’d never guess that she was calculating the most efficient way of killing us, would you? There’s not a hint of that in those startlingly pale blue eyes. If we didn’t know better, we’d still be gazing at her, falling in love all over again, and she could walk right up and stab us through the heart, and we’d never see it coming. All because of that beautiful face.”

“What’s in the past is in the past,” China said. “I’m going to end up killing every one of you for all this, and one more name added to the list won’t make much difference.” Gallow looked at her, then at Scorn. “I thought you said she was under control.”

EXAMPLES TO DO WITH NEUTRALITY:

“It’s time to take off this mask you wear, to end this charade. You need to take your place.”

“My place is right here.”

“We both know that’s not true. You could no more turn your back on the Faceless Ones than I could. I have seen your devotion.”

“My devotion, as you call it, has waned.”

Vengeous shook his head. “You have sworn your allegiance to the dark gods. You cannot simply change your mind.”

“I expected more from you, China. When you left us, I thought you’d be back. No one could do the things you’d done and then walk away. I didn’t think it was possible.”

Practically all of them can’t believe her passivity, because to them, that isn’t the China they know and fought beside for however long. Instead, the China they describe reveals a much more darker nature than the one we see - a China who wasn’t valued because of the information she had or her manipulation of others - a China who was valued for her effective and brutal action against the cause’s enemies.

Indeed, when considering China’s role during the war it becomes much clearer that she was ultimately valued for her devotion and ferociousness, her brutality and her effectiveness

Her fighting style:

Lastly, that leads us to the final thing - China in combat.

Now, one of the criticisms I saw after Bedlam that surprised me is that people felt that when China was fighting in some chapters, it felt too ‘Tanith’ or wasn’t elegant enough.

But the thing is, China’s fighting style has always been extremely rough.

EXAMPLES:

Strength flooded her body and, when Mist reached for her, China grabbed her wrist and twisted, locking Mist’s arm straight and forcing her to her knees... China struck the back of her elbow. Mist shrieked and the elbow shattered and shards of bone ruptured the skin.

China parried the blow and chopped at Tanith’s bicep. Tanith back-pedalled, her right arm hanging uselessly, and China stepped in quickly and caught her with a solid haymaker to the jaw.... China turned her attention back to Tanith. She activated the symbols on both of her palms, then stepped up to clamp her hands on either side of Tanith’s head. Tanith arched her back and screamed.

She hurled daggers of red light and dived a rider who came at her with a sword. She slammed her forehead into his face.... “Skulduggery?” China demanded, breaking a rider’s wrist and jabbing her fingers into his eyes.

China hit him from the side... In an instant, China was leaning over him, her hand pressing against his forehead. He screamed, then went silent, but China kept her hand on his forehand, making his body jerk.

The sigils on China’s knuckles flashed into his line of sight right before she broke his nose... her fist crunched into his side, smashing ribs.

There seems to be an assumption that because China is seemingly filled with grace that her fighting style would also be this simple, effortless thing.

And in a way, it is, when one considers her discipline, with her sigils meaning she can easily defend herself in a moments notice. But China’s fighting style has never been about grace - it’s always been about effectiveness, taking down her opponent in the quickest way. Indeed, Eliza Scorn even mentions this:

“Looking at her now, you’d never guess that she was calculating the most efficient way of killing us.”

And, very often, the first thing we see China lose when she enters a fight is that grace as she practically springs into action.

EXAMPLES:

China, meanwhile, was getting down and dirty with the remaining mage. They rolled across the ground, China’s hair in her face. Finally, China simply grabbed the sorcerer’s head and slammed it down into the concrete, once, twice. Satisfied that her opponent was no longer a threat, she got up, breathing hard and looking angry.

All of these examples clearly indicate just how brutal her fighting technique is and indeed how brutal her natural response to things is.

Overall:

One of things I notice most when people simplify China’s characterisation is that they turn her into a weak, vain bitch who isn’t able to defend herself or a princess who views violence or at least being involved in combat as beneath her - the truth is, China has always been a paradox: The beautiful woman with the ugly nature, the self serving who was once devoted, the graceful creature who easily becomes the brutal killer.

Another thing people seem to forget that the China we meet in Book One is very different to the China the people who she spent the majority of her youth and adult life with expect- her neutrality, her commitment to her library and indeed her self serving nature are all very foreign to them - perhaps we should all consider why and also what she was like before she decided to leave the conflict.

Part of the reason why I love China is that there are so many hidden and unexplored parts of her personality and nature that are only hinted at - she’s not a black and white character, and often people’s perception of her changes when they try to simplify her character into something black and white.

And yeah, that’s the basics behind this headcanon!! Hope it all makes sense and if not, feel free to drop another ask or dm!!

#skulduggery pleasant #china sorrows #ask

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

tapestry 👑 V

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The court celebrates the harvest.

Note: I’m a goddamn liar and ended up writing this after work and staying up past midnight because I have a problem people. I need help but until then I’m gonna keep posting so here ya go, my lovelies.

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

The week of the harvest celebration had come, though time seemed to stand still. Each day dragged on dreading the next. Anxious of what the king should do next, of how the court should roil once more, of your own part in the brewing mess. Even as the waters calmed it did not comfort you. Peace only assured you that chaos was on the horizon.

Rose continued to stew in her anger. You dared to think it was jealousy. While the king persisted in his prolonged stares during rehearsals, your partner did not ease matters as he passed along his master’s messages. Each added to the weight on your shoulders, the guilt that stabbed you each time you looked at the queen. Though you did not encourage it, you felt your part in it just as grievous.

And your father. When you met again, he did not spare a word. His disappointment, his frustration, his anger all spent upon you. Your disobedience had nearly cost him. Never mind that it kept your reputation in tact, that it gave hope to a future betrothal. He didn’t want an earl’s wife, he wanted a king’s mistress. The baubles you refused to accept, the promise of a title greater than his own father’s. You factored little in his desires outside your ability to fulfill them.

The saffron brocade was stiff across your chest, cut much lower than your usual gowns. Each woman was to wear a different shade of autumn for the performance. The king and queen would lead in goldenrod yellow as satins and silks of auburns, scarlets, and moss would swirl in. In imitation of a rush of leaves falling from the barren trees, heralding the change of seasons.

A seamstress knelt at your feet and pinned the skirts. The queen ran a finger along her throat as she considered you. It was the final fitting before the banquet; you were the last of the women to attend their measurements.

You could barely look Eleanor in the eye. Hearsay was rife as it always was but did she believe the whispers. Did she think the king truly enamoured by you? Did she know of the letters? The gifts he sent along with them? The ones you would not open, that were sent back untouched.

If she did, she did not betray herself. She smiled as she neared and touched the golden border along the top of the bodice. “Tighter around the waist,” She suggested to the tailor. “A half inch lower here.”

You looked down at your chest. You blinked. You really didn’t need less fabric there. As it was, your cleavage was more than noticeable. You bit your lip but did not protest.

“The colour is marvelous,” The queen looked you in the face. “Are you well, my lady?”

“I am but…” You hesitated as the seamstress pinned the bodice. “There are matters we should speak of, your highness.”

“Yes, I think there are,” She nodded and gestured to the seamstress. “If you would excuse us a moment.”

The other woman acquiesced with a bow and quickly retreated. The door closed behind her and left you alone with Eleanor. She smiled and swept away from you to sit on a cushioned bench as the pins in her ashy blonde hair caught the light. She patted the cushion next to her.

“Sit, let us talk of what worries you so.” She cooed.

“Your highness,” You approached reluctantly. “I do not think myself fit for this. I am a poor dancer.”

“You are not so bad,” She said as you sat beside her. “Heavy-footed but not entirely hopeless.”

“Hopeless enough.” You grumbled. “Especially in a place such as this.”

“I know you shall do just fine.” She smiled. “But you do not refer to only the performance, do you, lady?”

“No, no, I do not,” You looked at your lap. “Surely, you’ve heard.”

“There are no secrets at court,” She returned. “I know my husband’s attention has strayed again. I hear Lady Rose and her detest, her complaints of her neglect. And it makes me most happy.”

“But the king…”

“The king does as he wishes. I cannot stop him but I can abide it so long as I am not met with nonchalance and scorn.” She held her head high. “I can stand any mistress but none who would shame me so openly.”

“I...I have refused the king. Every time. I do not wish to involve myself in your marriage. Your highness, I admire you too much. I would never--”

“You’re a smart girl. I trust you are able enough but this court is perilous. Allies are rare but should be welcomed,” She pulled a loose string from the tail of your hood. “So long as you are...covert, I would have no reason to mind the dalliance.”

“P-pardon? Your highness, I don’t understand--”

“Do with my husband as you please. I know you, my lady. You are loyal and you will not so blatantly degrade me. If I must bear this marriage, I shall bear it with a mite of dignity.”

“I please none of it and yet he does not relent. If you are truly my ally, can you not stop him?”

“He will not relent. He never has and I’ve never been able to stop him. No one has.” She sighed and her long lashes flicked. “I do prefer you to Rose. Oh, I do very much.”

“You…” For a moment you gasped for air. The realization struck you in the chest. “You have maneuvered me thus, haven’t you? Because you knew the king would never tolerate your mistreatment of his mistress and so you thrust me before him.”

“I did not thrust you, my lady,” She smiled. “You were merely well-positioned at a most opportune moment.”

Your mouth was bitter with betrayal. The queen had seemed the only genuine character at court but in a moment, she revealed herself to be just as vile as the rest. Perhaps it was easy to pity a scorned woman but it was little excuse for the disgrace of another. You could not forgive her crime on the grounds of another done to her. You clenched your hands together as you tried not to scowl.

“And you expect me to appease him? To forfeit my virtue to him?” You stared at your skirts.

“I expect you to do as you think necessary,” She said, “But my husband gives little heed to what is necessary. To what it proper. He will take as he pleases, not as you please.”

You looked up at her. Terrified. “And you would not stop him?”

“Cannot.” She shrugged and a glimmer of regret flashed her in eyes. She pitied you. “It is not so bad. You will be taken care of after. A husband will be found, or if that does not please you, a household all your own. I swear it on my honour.”

“Your honour?” You scoffed. “You bartered me to your own husband.”

“A barter you could only dream of,” Her green eyes sharpened. “You don’t know, cannot know, what is like. To be ridiculed daily. To be tied to a man who can never love you, a court that will never accept you as their own.” She shook her head. “I did mislead you, I admit it, but only because I know you to be honest. To be without presumption. You would not bring me further shame because you fear it yourself.”

“Do you not realize that you’ve already brought shame upon me?” You stood and crossed the room. You couldn’t stand to be near her. “You are not a friend to me, my queen. I am...alone.”

Silence. You heard the rustle of her skirts but she did not near you. You turned as she reached the door. She adjusted a pin in her hair as she reached for the handle. She exhaled softly.

“You will change so that the dress may be altered and you will go. And you will never speak to me as you have again. I am still your queen.”

👑

The day of the harvest arrived. The feast hall was draped in golden and bronze silks as the court gathered along the trestles. The benches did not overflow as dancers hid beneath the canopy just beyond the doors, awaiting their grand entrance to the plucking of lutes and trill of flutes.

You stood quietly, head down, hands clamped together as you recited the steps in your head. You weren’t prepared. No matter how often the master led you through the steps, you’d never be ready. You weren’t a dancer and you were too distracted to retain the simple choreography.

A shiver went up your spine as a familiar voice met your ears. The space was tight and the performers were close. Steven’s laughter boomed in the small space and you looked up. The king and queen were at the front of the procession, several pairs between you. He was drawn by your movement and grinned at you before you shied away. The queen batted her lashes and took her husband’s hand. Her response was not heard.

“You should not be so nervous,” Lord Barnes intoned. You’d forgotten his presence beside you. “You are not so tragic as you think.”

“Ever gracious but a poor liar, Lord Barnes.” You huffed. “I have noticed how you’ve padded your boots.”

He chuckled. “Of the dozen pairs among us, do you think we would stick out so sorely?”

“I hope not,” You said. “Thought I apologize if I should make fools of both of us.”

“You are much too cynical.” He stepped closer. “You deny yourself even the slightest error. How can one find any pleasure in life with such suffocating restraint?”

“As a lord who would never face consequence for his lack of, I doubt you could understand the caution of a lady.” You returned.

“Surely not. I could never be so pious. So...boring.” He mused.

You bristled and turned your face away from him. You looked around at the other dancers as they chattered and fidgeted in their impatience. Rose snarled as she caught your eye and shrugged off Lord Alan. You blanched and tucked your chin to your chest.

“I was teasing, my lady,” Barnes leaned in. “You needn’t take it so heavily.”

“I am aware, my lord. I can understand humour, as poorly as it may be presented.” You looked to him pointedly. “I may be plain but I am not simple.”

He laughed again. He glanced around and you followed his gaze to the door. The king peered between the bodies and watched intently. You stiffened and returned your attention to your partner.

“So I’ve noticed.” Barnes said. “As has he.”

“And you, his infiltrator?” You arched a brow. “Do you recount our every word?”

“I might be a loyal companion to the crown but I am no informant. What we speak of remains between us, I swear it.” He assured you. “But I might tell you something...most intimate.”

“So you would?” You prodded.

“I’ve known Steven since we were children. I know him better than any. I know him beyond the courtly disguise he wears.” Barnes faced you and took your hand. He drew you close. “As I stand near to you, he watches, he seethes, because he is quite taken by you.” His voice was low. “And the more you refuse him, the more taken he shall be.” He raised your hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “And he has rarely been refused in his life...he will not stand for it long.”

“Is this a warning or another message?” He dropped your hand and stepped back.

The queen’s voice rose above the babble and she clapped her hands. “Lords, Ladies, we are due. Positions, please.”

She turned and the king raised his hand for her to take. Each couple mirrored them and you took Barnes hand as he stood side by side with you. He looked to his feet and pretended to kick the dust from his toe as he spoke under his breath.

“It is both, my lady,” He whispered. “A king’s requests quickly become commands.”

👑

“May I?” Barnes was beside you before you could flee.

You’d hoped to cling to the wall until you could manage to sneak away. As late, you’d grown much too conspicuous for that. You turned back to him, caught in your retreat, and sighed. He was not the only to note your attempted escape. Your father sneered from his seat and the king raised his head above the queen’s as they spun along the boards.

“I wouldn’t pain you or your toes further, my lord.” You replied.

“I can bear it,” He assured you. “And there is no other partner I wish. They’re all rather dull.”

“Dull of foot might be more painful than dull of wit.” You returned and he grinned.

“The wit does outweigh the foot, my lady,” He offered his hand. “Come on.”

Your eyes were drawn back to your father. He tilted his head dangerously. You couldn’t tell if it were to deter you from dancing or from leaving. You forced a smile and took Barnes’ hand. He guided you onto the floor lithely. His feet were swift and kept clear of your own.

“Did I mention how wonderful you look, tonight?” He marveled as you turned in time with the room. “The cut of that dress is quite complimentary.”

You kept your head high and did your best to follow the steps. “Thank you, my lord. That is kind of you to say.”

“Not so drab as that habit you wore before,” He japed. “Was it the queen who recommended the brocade?”

You stared at him. You struggled to piece together the puzzle. Did he operate upon his own resolve? Upon the kings? Or perhaps he was just as much the pet of the queen? Your lips pressed together as you peeked again across the room. Both king and queen watched you as they moved their bodies gracefully to the music.

“The queen did,” You answered evenly. “She was certain to see that all her ladies were attired fittingly for the event.”

You avoided his gaze as he watched you. As you tried to decipher him, he did the same to you. Your foot came down on his but he did not flinch as he smoothly guided you along the floor. The music swirled around you with your skirts as you were led in the jig. Your head spun with the candlelight and crowd of satin and silk. He squeezed your hand and you looked to him. He smirked as the music eased to the next tune and he bowed to you.

“My lady,” He said as he led you by your hand.

As he turned you, you found the king waiting. You searched through the crowd, the queen was already swept up by Lord Samuel. She paid no heed to her husband’s ploy. You wondered if she were not a party to it. Lord Barnes released you and nodded to his king. “Your highness.”

“Would you allow me a dance, my lady?” The king coaxed.

You fought not to dissemble. You glanced around and found your father still watching. He leaned forward as he nodded. His hand was in a fist on the table. You didn’t dare resist. You took the king’s hand and let him lead you to the melody.

“My lady, you are more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you,” He said breathily. His eyes did not meet yours as they wandered to the top of your bodice. “I’ve found it most difficult to think of anything but you this night ...truly every night.”

“You flatter me, your highness.”

“I am honest. I bear myself to you.” He said. “And you still refuse my gifts? Still refuse me?”

“You know I cannot--”

“I know you are afraid but you haven’t reason to be. I shall protect you; from the queen, from the court. You shall be mine and I shall make certain you are kept well.” His blue eyes burned down at you. “I only long to give you everything. To give you all of me, all I ask in return is you.”

“You are married--”

“But not in love.”

“You are king and I am an earl’s daughter. Unwed and without betrothal.”

“As king, I can see to your future. I can give you title, a castle, lands…”

“So I shall lower myself to courtesan for you?”

“No, no, never. I shall raise you, my lady. Hold you in the highest esteem.”

“You shall ruin my reputation.”

“Can you not see how I suffer? My lady, you torment me so.”

“Your highness,” You stopped short and he nearly stumbled. “It cannot be. To prolong it will not change the circumstance that divides us. I do not seek infamy, I do not seek controversy, nor will I lower myself to be your mistress.”

“Lower…? I do not ask you--”

“You do. For what shall people say? What do they already whisper?” You rescinded your hand. “Your highness, you have not considered fully what you ask of me. You have not considered me.”

“I--”

“Excuse me, your highness,” You touched your stomach as it knotted. “I think I am unwell.”

He blinked, stunned. He bowed his head and you backed away from him. You readied yourself for his pursuit. For him to stop you. He did not and when he was hidden by the crowd, you turned and scurried to the door.

You didn’t slow until you reached an alcove just along the corridor. You were shaky as you leaned against the stone and caught your breath. Would the king be upset? Surely your father would but you could face his wrath as you had your entire life. You recalled Barnes’ words. Would the king cease to merely ask?

And who could save you? The king had a dozen allies and you had not one. The queen would not stop him, nor would his leal friend. Your father, surely, would find a way to assist him. Your own blood would sell you into scandal. You were so very alone.

A sole scuffed upon the stone and drew you from your reverie. A shadow loomed just around the corner and you tucked yourself into the alcove. You flattened your skirts with your hands and held your breath. The footsteps neared and you didn’t dare to move.

The king’s tall silhouette appeared before you. He walked past the alcove as he looked around. He sighed softly and hung his head. He tapped his toe as he stopped and hooked his thumbs in his belt. You watched, paralysed.

He let out a disappointed grumble and turned back. The toe of his boot caught the hem of your skirt as it splayed out from your hiding spot and he stopped. He looked over and his eyes met yours in the dim of the lanterns. They pierced you through the shadows and his lips curved.

“My lady,” He greeted, “Why do you run from me?” He stepped forward. “Hide from me?” He lowered himself to his knees as he reached for your hands. “Can’t you see how desperate I am? How I am completely at your mercy?”

“Your highness, please,” You begged as he gripped your hands tightly. “Please, this is indecent.”

“My lady,” He brought your hands to his lips and laid a dozen kisses upon them. “I cannot wait. I’ve never waited so long and it pains me deeply. Every second I am away from you, I cannot think. I cannot live.”

“Your highness,” Your voice was coarse as you tried to escape his hold. “You would tarnish me.”

He released your hands and you tried to brush past him. He caught you around the waist and pulled you against him. He pressed his face to your stomach and kissed the taut brocade. He nuzzled into you and raised his chin to look up at you over your bosom. You caught his shoulders as you struggled with him.

“Please, please…” You could barely speak. You were terrified at his strength, at how easily he held you there. He walked forward on his knees as he pushed you back into the alcove until you met the wall. “Please…”

He dropped his arms and you felt your skirts lift and you sobbed. He lowered his head as he tugged at your skirts and you felt the cool air on your ankles. He bent and you pressed yourself to the wall. You could barely breathe as you watched him. He lowered himself until his lips met your slippers. He kissed both and sat back on his heels.

“Can’t you see, my lady?” He peered up at you. “You have me on my knees?” He bent to kiss them again. “I am yours.” He declared as he sat up once more. “Entirely yours.”

You clasped your hands before your chest. You were trembling. You could not speak as you stared down at him. He let your skirt fall back into place as he stood. His shadow enshrined you as he reached out to touch your cheek.

“Are you afraid, my lady?”

You nodded and turned away from his touch.

“You needn’t be for I shall find a way for us to be together. A proper way.” His fingers trailed down and he dragged his thumb along your lower lip. “I promise you, I will.”

For a moment, he held your face. His hand firmly cradled your chin and he leaned in until his breath was upon your lips. His thumb traced your lips and he closed his eyes. He let out a long sigh and pulled away from you suddenly.

“I will wait,” He said, though he spoke more to himself than you. “I will wait.” He opened his eyes and bowed to you. “My lady.”

You watched him back away, too stunned to move as his shadow faded down the hall and his footsteps softened to silence. You cowered in the stone alcove until you were certain he was gone. At last, you found your strength and stepped into the amber light of the lanterns.

Lord Barnes’ foreboding rang in your head; ‘A king’s requests quickly become commands.’

#tapestry #king!steve #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #mcu #marvel #fic #series #au #medieval au #captain america #dark fic #dark!fic #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes

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mintjamsblog · 5 years

Note

Tommy comes to Margate again and somehow ends up playing a game of chess with Alfie despite knowing only very little about it and somehow it turns into a game of strip chess and Tommy pretends to be Very Mad About It.

This one rather got away from me I’m afraid....

First of all, Tommy is good at chess. Very good. I mean it’s a game that requires strategy and subterfuge, that requires a player to think at least ten steps ahead. Tommy was born for it. He hasn’t, however, played it all that often. Certainly not as often as Alfie has played it lately. Well, you have a lot of time on your hands when you’re dead. He has one board set up in the corner just for an ongoing game between him and Olly. They play via the telephone, mostly, the odd half hour when he visits, but mostly it’s calls. They keep a careful track of each others’ place via grid references. Alfie’s even taken to playing with the delivery boy from the grocery shop on occasion, when he’s craved something a little more intellectually stimulating than shooting birds.

Which is why it is particularly galling when Tommy has wiped out one bishop, a knight and a rook within the first two dozen moves.

But Alfie can bide his time because he is nothing if not patient. The exact opposite of Tommy. Tommy is playing like he cannot get this game over with quick enough. Which is not the point with chess, now, is it? And the thing is Alfie can see it coming. Can see him getting cocky, so fucking sure of his abilities that his concentration is slipping. A lot like what happened with that fascist to be honest, and that didn’t end well.

He can sense Tommy’s growing impatience as he slowly considers his next move. He’s not going to rise to it, Tommy came here so Tommy can damn well wait, but an idea is brewing in his mind.

”Alfie, just play your next move.”

Alfie just strokes at his beard. Another few minutes pass.

“Stop stroking your chin and get on with it.”

“My chin, yeah. One of the few bits of my face left undamaged. Quite fond of it as it happens.”

“Alfie, just play your goddam move or I’m gonna play it for you. S’fuckin’ obvious.”

“Did you know that chins, right, are uniquely human?”

Tommy just raises his eyebrows in a gesture that says what the fuck? He doesn’t actually roll his eyes, but he’d like to, Alfie can tell.

“Not even our nearest relatives, the apes, possess a bony protuberance beneath their teeth, which is interesting bec….” he doesn’t finish the sentence because Tommy has got out of his chair, reached over to Alfie’s side and moved his remaining knight to cover his queen. It has left Alfie, unusually, speechless. I mean it was exactly the move Alfie was going to make, eventually, but that doesn’t make what Tommy’s done any less mother-fucking rude.

“Well that is just very unsporting Tommy. Very fucking unsporting indeed. Gonna have to be some sort of penalty for that.”

Tommy is leaning back in his chair again with an amused expression on his face. He purses his lips and looks out of the doors momentarily and when he turns back he actually has the semblance of a smile on his face. “A penalty?” he says, reaching for his cigarettes.

“Yeah, mate. A penalty,” he repeats, feigning interest in the horizon for a moment. “A forfeit, if you will.”

“What kind of penalty, Alfie?”

“Think you’re gonna have to lose something, Tommy. Let me see. The jacket should do it.”

“Alfie, it’s fucking chess. I’m not taking my clothes off.”

“And the waistcoat, yeah. That can go too.”

“I’m not taking anything off unless you take one of my pieces.”

“Oh yes you are, mate,” he says, voice low and gravelly now, because he’s fucking onto something here.

There’s a long pause. Tommy’s lighting a cigarette but his eyes don’t stray an inch from Alfie’s. “Fine then,” he says suddenly. He clamps the cigarette between his teeth and roughly shrugs off his jacket, undoes his waistcoat. “S’not gonna help you win though,” he says, reaching over and playing his next move, swiftly.

Alfie surveys the board for a long time. He knows exactly what move he’s going to make but he’s enjoying Tommy’s agitation. Eventually he leans forward and takes one of Tommy’s pawns. “Shoes,” he says, without looking up.

He listens as Tommy reaches down and angrily undoes his laces. He mutters something indistinguishable as he kicks of the brogues before returning to the game in hand. He moves his queen.

Alfie cracks his knuckles loudly and then switches his king with his remaining rook.

“You can’t do that,” Tommy immediately interjects.

“Fuckin can mate, it’s called castling.”

“I know what it’s called, Alfie, but you can’t do it. You’ve already moved your king.” He’s goddam right of course, sharp as a knife that boy, but Alfie’ll be damned if he’s gonna admit it.

“No I haven’t,” he immediately replies.

“Alfie, you did it right at the start, when you were in check.”

“Nah, you’re dreaming it, mate. Must be getting on a bit, losing your memory.”

“I am not fucking dreaming it. Alfie you…”

“Trousers,” Alfie growls.

“You what?”

“Trousers. Off.”

“I came here, believe it or not, to talk business.”

“Oh, did you now? And you’ve never talked business without your trousers on, hmm?”

Tommy has the decency to blush slightly at that statement. Whilst looking endearingly pissed off.

“Stop complaining like some schoolgirl who’s been outsmarted by the class bully. Miss, miss, she cheated,” he mimics in a high pitched voice, which makes the change of tone that follows all the more effective. “Get them fucking off.”

The mocking has the desired effect; Tommy stands up and churlishly removes his woollen slacks, throwing them furiously over towards the fire.

Before he has a chance to sit back down Alfie tips up the chess board and lets all of the pieces slide noisily to the floor.

“Fucking hell, Alfie.” Tommy huffs. He looks genuinely exasperated, angry even, which is rather satisfying on a number of levels.

Oh dear, looks like you’ve lost a few more pieces,” Alfie says, voice ludicrously sincere. “Shorts,” he says, nodding decisively towards Tommy’s pelvis.

Tommy glares at him furiously but Alfie can see the cogs whirring, weighing up the options. He slides out of the cotton underwear until he’s gloriously naked from the waist down. Well, apart from the socks and garters, but that all rather adds to the effect.

“Now get the fuck over here and pick those up,” Alfie orders. When Tommy hesitates he decides to add a little incentive. “And if you’re a good boy, I won’t have to belt you while you’re down there. Be terribly hard to explain those noises to the nurse. She’s only in the parlour.”

Tommy drops to his knees at that, starts picking up the pieces as Alfie unbuttons his own trousers. He slaps them carelessly back on the coffee table where they proceed to roll off all over again. Alfie watches for a moment, amused, but impatience finally gets the better of him.

“For fucks sake, just get over here, I have something else you can attend to.”

Then he reaches over and grabs Tommy roughly by the hair, forcing him to crawl the last few inches towards the edge of the sofa. He pulls Tommy’s face into his groin and leans down to glare.

“Don’t worry, love, you’re still good for something,” he coos as he forces his half hard cock into Tommy’s mouth. “And you can fucking look at me while you’re warming my cock.”

Tommy lets out a muffled groan of frustration, as Alfie’s intention becomes clear. He starts to lick underneath the head and suck his cheeks in. Alfie grips his chin, hard and tilts him upwards slightly. “Did you misunderstand me Tommy? I want you to warm my cock. Not suck it.” Tommy stills his tongue obediently, his eyes burning with absolute fury.

“There, there,” Alfie tuts, tapping his cheek gently as he settles himself back against the sofa. “A little lesson in patience will do you the world of good, Thomas.” He reaches for the book on his side table and proceeds to read to himself. He can feel Tommy’s breath pulsing, sharp and fast, against his pubic bone. It’s like a gift from the fucking gods.

Ten minutes have passed before Tommy dares to protest. He licks again, long and slow, and it takes considerable restraint on Alfie’s part not to rut straight into his mouth. He doesn’t. Instead he reaches down and slaps Tommy’s cheek, daring him to try again.

When another ten minutes have passed he shifts his hips slightly, reminding the man at his feet that he is still watching. “D’you know, I fancy a cup of tea, Tommy,” he says innocently. Tommy moves as if to pull back but is swiftly held in place with a ringed hand in his fringe. “No need for you to move, lovely, I have staff for that, even here. Nurse!” he shouts abruptly. “We’ll take tea, in the living room please.”

“Right you are Mr Solomons,” comes the reply from deep in the house.

And if Tommy looked furious before he looks downright livid now. Or maybe it’s terrified. Hard to tell when he’s on his knees with a cock in his mouth. “You stay where you are for the next five minutes and I’ll let you get up before she comes in,” he says, without releasing his hair. “Can I trust you Tommy?” he asks quietly. “Because good boys get a reward?”

Tommy nods, just barely, cheeks flushing at the promised praise. The minutes tick by achingly slowly, Alfie feigning deep concentration in his book. When he hears footsteps approaching down the corridor he bucks his hips, signalling Tommy’s freedom to move. Alfie simply places his open book over his lap and smirks as Tommy scrabbles desperately for his clothes. There isn’t time, of course, he’s still on his knees when the nurse arrives, almost hiding behind the sofa.

“Don’t mind him, he knocked over the board,” Alfie offers, charmingly. “Just picking up the pieces aren’t you, Mr Shelby? My back’s not up to it you see.”

The nurse’s eyes flicker towards Tommy just briefly, and if she notes his state of undress she ignores it. “And you can go now, dear, once that’s poured,” Alfie says, “No need to stay until eight.”

When she leaves the room Tommy glares at him through gritted teeth, his entire face flushed red. “You fucking, fucking, cunt…” he hisses, but somehow they’re on each other within seconds, kissing deeply, angrily. And when the front door closes, the nurse has left, they stumble into the bedroom like a pair of desperate teenagers. The sex is hard and angry and satisfying, Tommy bent over the edge of the bed as Alfie slams into him, telling him how well he has done. When they later move onto the bed Tommy takes out his frustration on Alfie’s back, nails scraping hard and deep. It only spurs Alfie on to fast, to harder, which is no doubt exactly what he intended. They come together in a medley of grunts and curses and teeth and nails that finishes with a crushing embrace.

“Haven’t seen you so angry at me in a long time,” Alfie mumbles.

“You’re a cheat and a bastard,” Tommy replies as he lights a cigarette.

"I know. That's why you love me."

“She could fucking tell anyone.”

“Who, Dorothy?”

“Don’t give her a fucking name, that just makes it worse."

“She’s partially sighted ,” Alfie says, biting at a nail. “Can see fuck all bar what’s under her nose.”

Tommy slaps him so hard across his chest that it really should hurt, but all he can do is laugh. And laugh. And reach over to kiss Tommy gently. “Did as you were told, anyway though, didn’t you? Such a good boy.”

“Fuck off,” is all Tommy can say.

#tommy shelby #alfie solomons #headcanons #alfie x tommy #tommy x alfie #tommy/alfie #alfie/tommy #peaky blinders fanfic #sub!tommy #Dom!Alfie

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harlot-of-oblivion · 5 years

Text

Partake of Me

You and Vergil are out on a mission when an insatiable hunger rears its ugly head. You would ask the handsome devil beside you to lend a helping hand if it wasn't for one problem...you haven't told him that you're a vampire. Can you resist the allure of his blood? Or will you give into the temptation known as Vergil Sparda?

This is my first time writing for a request. I hope it’s everything you wanted, my dear vampire anon!

Prepare yourself for some blood and spice! 😘

The allure of the night sky never ceases to amaze you. A cluster of bright twinkling jewels swim in a vast sea of black while the harvest moon illuminates the surrounding buildings and roads with its ethereal glow. You remember the wandering walks in the middle of night during your youth, staring up at the stars in wonder as you imagine what it would be like to live another life besides your dreadfully boring one. Little did you know what twists and turns your life would take…for now you stalk the streets as a vampire, a true daughter of darkness, no longer living at all and in no way is your life boring anymore.

You have a deeper comprehension for all that goes bump in the night than most, embodying one of the many dangers that lurk in the shadows. Shortly after your introduction into vampirism, you travel around for a time and hone the skills your dark nature gifts you with…until one day you came upon an interesting opportunity in the paper. A shop called Devil May Cry is looking for mercenaries willing to do tough jobs that require supernatural and paranormal expertise. This piques your interest and you immediately call the number listed by the wanted ad. It has been a few months since then, and you quite enjoy the challenges that present themselves during this line of work. You especially enjoy the presence of a certain white-haired gentleman that frequently accompanies you on these jobs.

Vergil Sparda, the twin brother of the man who owns the shop, is no normal man. During your time with him you find him to be just as dangerous and deadly as you. It is being the kin of the demon known as the Legendary Dark Knight that gift him with powers you have witnessed for yourself multiple times. Well, that and his sword, the Yamato. You admire how calm and collected he is during battle, flashing and slicing through enemies with ease. It also does not hurt that he is easy on the eyes. His striking face and unwavering silver gaze never fails to trick you into believing you can breathe again…because the Son of Sparda is absolutely breathtaking.

Too bad he wouldn’t think the same of you if he found out what you truly are...

Your eyes roll at your sullen thought as you and Vergil make your way down a deserted alleyway. Both of you just spent the entire night investigating a lead for a mission in the older parts of this bustling neighborhood. When both of you fail to see the connection in the information you have gathered, Vergil suggests getting a couple of rooms at a nearby motel. That way both your minds may reassess the situation with a fresh perspective after proper rest. You gladly go along with this plan, longing to clean your guns and change your clothes. It also saves you from coming up with an excuse to find shelter from the dawn’s first light.

When you took the position at the shop you may have neglected to tell them about your vampiric nature. You have found through experience that one should always be careful with who you tell such a secret. And considering that the shop focuses on supernatural threats, you did not want to reveal what you really are in case they see your mere existence as a threat. It may be a bit presumptuous, but a healthy dose of paranoia always keeps you safe. You do not have the luxury of having someone watch your back in this solitary life.

But now you are regretting your decision to keep your vampirism a secret as the insatiable hunger for blood slowly builds up inside you. This is usually not a problem since you always bring plenty of blood packs with you during a mission, but when you check your travel bag they are nowhere to be seen. You forgot the one thing you need to survive, to keep you sane…and now you are paying for it as you summon all of your willpower to keep your hunger under control.

The handsome devil walking beside you does not help your endeavor as your mind obsesses over what his blood would smell and taste like. Your eyes wander over and steal glances at his collar, longing to tear it away from his neck and sample what the Dark Slayer has to offer. Vergil catches you a couple of times, making you turn your head away as you pretend to be surveying your surroundings with high alertness. Your insidious paranoia almost convinces you that he knows your secret.

He sees you for what you really are: a blight on the world that needs to be destroyed…

You shake your head, casting out all your fearful notions from your mind as you finally arrive at the quaint motel. Vergil scans your face with a critical eye, his silent way of asking you if everything is alright. You smile at his concern and nod your head. Being a vampire comes with its fair share of hang ups; such as always being paranoid no matter how safe you are…or the habit of obsessing over something you desire, driving yourself mad until you have it in your possession. You have the misfortune of currently suffering from both afflictions, craving the well-mannered devil holding the entryway door open for you while also afraid of him using the Yamato against you.

Your body shudders as the image of your fictional final death runs through your mind. The poor front desk clerk regards you warily as you ask for a room, completely forgetting that you usually ask for two rooms when you stop for the night at places like this motel. Vergil raises an eyebrow at this, but does not correct you as he peers down at you with those keen eyes. You avoid meeting his gaze and drum your fingers on the desk testily as the clerk puts you down for a room while going on about the amenities of the motel. As soon as the room key is in your hand you dash down the hall, doing your best to keep a normal pace as you walk straight to the door of your rented room.

As you raise the key to unlock the door your sharp sense of awareness detects the sudden presence of Vergil close behind you. “Y/N,” he addresses to get your attention. You look over your shoulder and lock onto his intense gaze, doing your best to ignore the overwhelming body heat emanating from him. “Are you well?” he questions, a bit of worry laced in his tone. “You seem…distraught.”

“What?” you mutter as your hand fumbles with the lock, distracted by the steady cadence of his heart beat close to your ear. “No, I’m fine. Just tired and frustrated. I just need some rest, that’s all.”

Vergil studies you closely. You know that your answer is weak, but it is taking all of your willpower to not latch your fangs into the irresistible neck currently over your shoulder. His eyes dart over to the key clinking against the handle as your trembling hand attempts to unlock it. He swiftly leans over and places his hand over yours, causing a series of shivers to cascade though your body from his warm touch. And his scent…like fresh snow first thing in the morning after a winter storm. It overtakes your senses as it begins unravel the last strand of control inside you. He gently guides the key to its proper place, slides it into the keyhole, and turns it for you.

“After you,” he murmurs in your ear. It takes you a moment to collect yourself, steeling your resolve against the temptation known as Vergil Sparda.

“Thanks,” you mumble as you bow your head and turn the handle of the door.

It almost pains you to step away from him as you enter the room. Your body is physically twitching as you examine the plain walls and furniture, taking note of the one lone bed in the middle of the room. Vergil closes and locks the door behind you before sweeping the entire room in his usual search for hidden threats or traps. You do not even bate eye at this as you set your travel bag down on a nearby table. If you had rented a second room you would be doing the exact same thing, except your search is for holes or crevices that may let sunlight in and promptly covering them up. When the room passes his inspection, Vergil heads over to the windows and starts to draw the curtains closed. Seeing the moonlight drift through the glass and illuminate his gorgeous profile stirs the ever-growing desire for him inside you. The calm beat of his heart, the feel of his radiating body heat, his amazingly intoxicating scent…

Your hunger demands to be sated…NOW.

You clamp down hard on whatever remaining power you have left to keep yourself from doing anything foolish, like jumping Vergil and taking what you want. That insatiable need clawing at the back of brain can only mean one thing…you are very close to entering a frenzy. Not good, not good. If you were to feed on anyone now you would most likely drain them of all their blood. You’ve really fucked up now. So, even if you put aside your fears and ask Vergil for some of his blood, you could not vouch for his safety. The very thought of causing fatal harm to him…

No. I cannot risk it.

Vergil’s imposing back is still facing you as he closes the last curtain, so you know he has not noticed your frantic state yet. I must not let him see me like this. Your mind hastily formulates a plan to put some distance between the two of you as fast as possible. You take your phone out of your travel bag as you conjure up a smooth lie. “I’m going to go outside and see if there’s better signal.” You walk over to the door and reach for the handle. “I’ll, uh…be right back.”

“Going out for a drink?”

Your hand pauses just inches away from the door as the room echoes with his confrontational inquiry. You glance sideways at the cocksure devil standing across the room. “W-what are you…talking about?”

Vergil turns around and faces you with a challenging glare. “I am no fool, Y/N…I know what you are.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Vergil.” You turn away from him, whispering paranoia rattling your brain as you struggle to keep yourself together long enough to just get out of the room. “Now, if you’ll excuse me-”

The distinct sound of the Yamato slices through the air. The hunger inside you turns into panic. This is it…this is how you meet your final death: at the hands of the man you adore deeply, despite being eternally damned. How fucking cliché can you get? you thought, knowing that in your weak state you stand no chance against him. You prepare yourself for the inevitable spiel of needing to cut you down and the biggest fight of your undead life.

A delectable scent wafts under your nose. Your supernatural senses become hyperaware as it focuses in the indistinguishable smell of strong, thick…blood. This blood triggers a memory…sitting with friends around a campfire in the dead of winter, laughing and sipping spiced wine. The hunger comes back in full force as your head swivels around unnaturally fast towards the source. Vergil’s left hand is gloveless. A deep gash has been cut into his palm as he holds it out, his blood welling up into a small pool. Just the sight it has you baring your fangs as you behold the tempting devil currently smirking at you.

“It seems I’ve injured myself,” he observes nonchalantly. The sight of his smug face angers you, but it also gives you a moment to reign in the hectic storm swirling in your head as you fight the urge to pounce him. You want to tear your eyes away from his redolent nectar, but they stay glued to his hand. There is no doubt that Vergil sees the feral glow of your eyes gleaming in the darkness of the room.

“Don’t…” you weakly plea as your body begins to tremble. “I can’t…”

“Would you be a dear and take care of it for me?” he taunts as his bloody hand tips ever so slightly. Your predatory eyes follow the lovely trail as it drips down, building and collecting at the edge of his hand before a single drop forms and begins to fall…

Instantly, your primal instincts kick in. Your phone drops from your hand as you lunge at Vergil faster than a bullet from one of your guns. He grunts as the force of your abnormally quick approach takes him off guard, sending him straight to the floor. You straddle his waist and grab his wrist, bringing it close to your face as you inhale its sweet fragrance. You sigh in ecstasy, slowly slipping into a hazy stupor as your body shivers in excitement.

“You’re a lot stronger than I anticipated.”

Vergil’s voice breaks you out of your hungry daze as you stare down at him. His fierce eyes meet your own predatory gaze as he props himself up with his free arm. He is oddly calm for a man who was just knocked to the ground by a bloodthirsty vampire. Your eyes widen in horror as you realize what you have just done and immediately let go of his wrist. Before you can even think about retreating, Vergil wraps his arms around in a vice grip, effectively trapping you against his body. You struggle against him a bit, trying to break free, but it is in vain as you used what last bit of strength you had getting within this devil’s grasp.

“Is the blood of the Son of Sparda not good enough for you?” he sneers by your ear, his grip tightening around you as your body continues to fight against him.

“No!” you wail. “Your blood smells…so good,” you admit as you deeply inhale the succulent scent.

Vergil withdraws from your ear and presses his forehead against yours, forcing you to stare up into his inquisitive gaze. “Then what is stopping you from partaking of me?”

You swallow down your fears, mustering up the courage to speak truthfully. “I’m…really low on blood and…really close to giving in…to a frenzy. I don’t want…to lose control and...” You trail off as the thought of hurting him makes your body shake uncontrollably.

“I am well aware just how hungry you are,” he affirms softly, the gentle tone of his voice taking you by surprise even in your crazed state. “Which is why I am offering my blood to you.” He lifts his bloody hand near your face. Your eyes shoot back to it instantly as you start to pant frantically. Vergil places his lips next to your ear again as he continues to encourage you. “It is too close to dawn and I very much like to keep my partner from becoming ash.”

“Vergil,” you whine as you look away from his hand, opting to stare at the ceiling instead of burying your face into the crook of his enticing neck. “I-I wouldn’t forgive myself…if I hurt you.”

“You will not hurt me.”

You shake head. “No, I can’t-”

Suddenly, your view flips as Vergil swings you around and anchors you down to the floor with his unbloodied hand by the neck. He traps your legs in between his muscular thighs as he stares down at you. “Stop being stubborn and take my blood,” he commands impatiently.

You vigorously shake your head again as your body wriggles underneath his weight, refusing to give in to his demand for his own safety. “I would rather burn to cinders in the sun than give myself the chance of harming you in any way,” you swear with total conviction as you feebly attempt to escape from his immovable hold one last time. Try as you might you cannot make him budge as the last of your strength wanes. You see his familiar scowl before closing your eyes, summoning every last ounce of control you have to restrain yourself from giving into his tempting offer.

You feel him lean away as a low rumbling growl fills the air around you. A few moments pass before you feel his hand cup your face, smearing warm blood onto your skin. You press your lips into a thin line as you desperately try to keep yourself together beneath your wicked captor. His thumb tenderly strokes your cheek as his other hand loosens and slides to the back of your neck. All is quiet and calm. You convince yourself that Vergil has finally decided to end your suffering. But then, he quickly raises your head and you feel something press hard against your mouth…

His lips. Your eyes snap open as you gasp in shock. This proves to be your undoing though, as you suddenly taste liquid life pour into your open mouth. As soon as his blood touches your tongue the most gratifying moan escapes your throat. Your tongue starts to explore his mouth its own accord, searching for every last drop as your hands grip his perfectly slicked back hair. He lifts you up off the floor and moves your legs to straddle him as you sit on his lap, all while never breaking away from your ravenous kiss.

You purr in pleasure at this new arrangement as you begin to grind against him, lost in the taste of his demonically blessed blood. And Vergil does not just sit there and let you kiss the him into oblivion. You feel his hands roam over your arched back, your bent legs, and pert bottom as his hips meet yours with his own grinding thrusts. His tongue continuously challenges you for dominance, sometimes relenting to your ravishing tongue, and other times viciously pushing his way into your mouth to do some exploring of his own. Both of your growls mingle together to form a primal serenade, utterly intoxicated by its beat as your bodies sway against each other.

Vergil’s hybrid blood is very complex. Every time you think you got the flavor down another just bubbles up, demanding to be completely savored. The taste is reminiscent of the memory it evokes, dark fruity wine blending harmoniously with spicy cloves and sweet honey. You can even taste the smokiness, along with the surprising note of something floral…violets. His blood makes you feel exquisite as you relish every last sinful drop.

Eventually, all the blood in his mouth is devoured and your instincts scream for more. You tear away from his mouth, gasping from the intensity of his bloody kiss as you let your head fall back in pure bliss. Vergil’s arms wrap around you tightly, making sure you do not try to run away from him again. You see his velvety lips curve into a smug grin as he chuckles, extremely pleased that his diabolical plan has motivated you to give into him. A part of you wants to berate him for his deviously seductive ploy, but you can no longer resist the allure of his devilish blood while it courses through you.

Your hands relinquish their grasp on his hair as they glide down his neck and rest on the zipper of his vest. Vergil takes this as a promising sign. He removes his coat along with his other glove. You slowly pull the zipper as far as it will go without unbuttoning the outer lay of his vest. Your sharp eyes hone in on a pulsating vein underneath the smooth skin of his neck as you peel away the collar. It calls to you…beckons you to come closer…your face rushes in and nuzzles the crook of his neck, fangs scraping along that glorious vein but not baring down just yet.

You always get a thrill out of this moment, enjoying the feel of a warm trembling body in your arms as their heart beats faster in fear and anticipation. But this is different. This was no ordinary person you have in your embrace. This is Vergil Sparda, the devil who dares to stir the hungry lust of a vampire. His body does not tremble…it thrums with power as you feel his guttural growl through his throat. And his heart beats in anticipation, but you can tell there is no fear exuding from him…his very presence is thick with desire and arousal.

Vergil presses his lips against your ear as his hands rub your back. “Drink of me,” he whispers sinfully. “Take me inside you and get strong, my Evening Star.”

His wicked words are all the encouragement you need to stop denying yourself and finally give in. You hiss softly as you sink your fangs into his neck, moaning as his blood gushes into your mouth. Vergil grunts at your bite, hips thrusting up into you as he holds you close. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as you begin to suck his blood, letting yourself get carried away by the rapturous waves of lustful satiation. You meet every thrust of his hips, grinding in time with every draw of his red nectar. The feel of his prominent erection through his pants as it slides over your aroused core adds a teasing tingle to the mind-blowing sensation of blood streaming through your body.

You lose track of time as you take your fill of Vergil's blood. By now, you would be sucking on dry and dead artery if he was a normal human being. But his heart beat has not even slowed…on the contrary, it seems to have slightly increased in speed since you started feeding. His heavy and labored breathing puffs by your ear as his hands explore every inch of your body again, slowly memorizing the plains and slopes of your deadly form. You moan loudly against his neck as his sensual touch brushes over your inner thighs and the curve of your breasts. There was no doubt in your mind…this is going to end with you writhing in pleasure around him as you take another part of him inside you.

You feel his warm calloused hand grip your hair and pull you away from your luscious feast. You snarl in displeasure at the interruption, but Vergil’s demanding lips stifles your angry protest. Your mouth instantly opens up to him, letting him taste his own blood as your sneaky hands flash across his chest and remove his vest in a matter of seconds. He purrs lowly in gratitude as he wraps your legs around his waist and swiftly stands up off the floor. You clutch onto his shoulders as he grabs your ass with both hands and squeezes you closer to him as he walks over to bed.

Vergil kneels and sits you down on the edge of the bed. His lips leave your mouth as he begins tearing your clothes off, kissing and licking every bit of skin he reveals. You groan as he lavishes your breasts with his demanding tongue, flicking and teasing your nipples. He glances up at you as he takes one breast into his mouth, nibbling and sucking it firmly. The feel of his teeth gently grazing against your sensitive skin has you gasping and sifting your hands through his hair, bringing his head closer to your chest as he gives your other breast the same treatment.

You cannot take his teasing anymore and snap into action. A feral growl leaves your lips as you use blood to boost your speed and strength. You tug Vergil away from your breast and pull him on top of the bed, hurriedly ridding him of his pants, boots, and underwear. He blinks curiously up at the ceiling as you hastily rip the rest of your clothes off your body just as fast, eager to ride the very hard cock currently on display for your eyes. Before you can mount him, a blur of blue pops up behind you. One moment you are standing by the bed, the next you are slammed on top of the covers.

It is your turn to blink curiously up at the ceiling as Vergil chuckles beside you. “Nice try,” he quips, shifting his body over yours as he peers down at you with a grin on his face. His hand brushes your cheek in wonder. Soft fingertips swipe the blood still smeared on your face and brushes it on your mouth, coating your lips in his unique shade of red. Your tongue peeks out and greedily licks your lips, not wanting to waste a single drop.

Your eyes dart over to your bite mark on his neck as blood trickles from it. The beautiful red streaks on his chest make your fangs elongate at the sight. A couple of drops drip down and land on your chest. This does not escape Vergil’s notice as he moves his fingers away from your mouth and swipes some of his dark nectar off your skin and offers it to you. His cock twitches between your thighs, making you whimper as your legs spread wider, inviting him closer as you suck his fingers clean.

Vergil growls as he moves closer over you. He nestles himself between your thighs and his hips begin to grind against you ever so slightly, teasing you with his cock as it slides back and forth over your slick entrance. You cry out in frustration around his fingers as your arms and legs pull him even closer to you, silently begging him to end this sweet torture. He chuckles softly as he removes his fingers from your mouth and takes your chin, pulling you up to meet his lips in a searing kiss. Your arms encircle his neck as his tongue pokes and prods the cavern of your mouth before breaking away and resting his forehead on top of your head.

“How do I taste?” he asks while staring deeply into your eyes.

You bite your lower lip in thought, unaware of your sharp fang pricking your tender skin. “Like warm mulled wine on a cold winter morning.”

“Mmmmm.” He nuzzles his face closer until his lips are a breath away from your mouth. “How strange. The way you describe the flavor…I wonder…” His tongue pokes out and swipes at your bottom lip, lapping at the fang currently puncturing it. You gasp in surprise, releasing your lip and giving his naughty mouth an opening. He captures your lower lip with his teeth and softly nibbles as his tongue continues to lick and taste a small sample of your blood.

You sob as your dripping core aches with need, rocking desperately against his hard length in an effort to relieve the tortuous tension. “Vergil…please…” you whimper softly as you push against his body in vain. He must be compensating for your strength because now you can barely move beneath his weight.

Vergil releases your lip and buries his face close to your ear. “I can feel your sex quivering,” he marvels as he pumps his hips, easing some of the tension between your legs as the deep tone of his voice sends chills down your spine. “Does the thought of me partaking of you make it ache for my cock?”

Your body practically buzzes with exhilaration at his intimate suggestion. “Oh fuck…” you mumble as your head turns to the side, already baring your neck for him.

Vergil chortles in amusement. “I admire your enthusiasm, my dear, but I need to hear it from your lips.”

You groan in annoyance as you glare at him. His silver eyes lock you into an intense gaze, waiting patiently for you to give the word. If you could still blush your cheeks would be as red as the blood staining your lips. You lean your face in and softly press a delicate kiss against his pouty lips. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you would end up in your current position, underneath one of the most powerful and handsome men you have ever met, naked and wanting. Yet here you are…about to utter some of the most erotic words you have ever spoken as you stare longingly into his eyes.

“Drink of me. Take me inside your body as you become one with me, Vergil.”

The pupils of his silver eyes dilate dramatically as your sensual request flows from your lips. A long rumbling growl emanates from Vergil’s throat as his mouth slides down your neck, causing darts of pleasure to shoot straight down your core. You thread your fingers through his white hair as his lips pause over the crook of your neck and give a tentative nip. You bite down on your lip hard, holding back a pleading whimper as he positions the head of his cock at your entrance.

Vergil bites down hard on your neck just as he slams his hips forward, burying himself deep inside you. A satisfying yelp of pain escapes your mouth as you cradle his head close to your neck, your wet heat twitching delightfully around his generous length as he begins to steadily thrust in earnest. Vergil hums indulgently as he licks and sucks your neck, seemingly enjoying his own luscious feast. Your head falls back as a series of euphoric moans spills from your lips, the delicious feeling of his lips, tongue, and teeth along with the long strokes of his cock bringing you to rapid orgasm.

Vergil’s ardent pace never slows as he rides through your blissful orgasm, grunting against your neck as one hand slips under the small of your back and guides your hips into his thrusts to prolong your pleasure. Your legs squeeze firmly around his waist and your hands clench his hair tightly in an attempt to anchor yourself while the rapturous ripples run through you. All your fears about being shunned by the extraordinary man currently above you melt away as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. You never thought you could feel so full, so warm, so…alive.

When you finally start to come down from your fervid climax, Vergil moves his other arm around your shoulders and scoops you up to sit astride his lap, hips never slowing their zealous drive as his relentless mouth nips and licks his bruising mark on your neck. The feel of your own blood trickling down your back and chest sparks your insatiable need for his blood once more as you begin to follow his lead, bouncing up and down in his lap as you eye your own bite mark close to your face. You strike out with your fangs during the up stroke of his thrusts, clamping down hard and drawing out more of his flavorful nectar. He growls fiercely as his hips pause for a moment, cock twitching slightly inside you when your fangs bare down on him.

Vergil’s teeth finally release their hard grip as he trails crimson kisses up your neck until he reaches your ear. “You taste like pomegranate cider on a warm autumn night.” The deep sensuous timber of his voice describing the taste of your blood evokes a whimpering moan from you as he goes on titillating you with his seductive words. “So rich…” His hands start caressing you, smearing your blood across your back. “So sweet…” One of his hands glide around to your chest, forming red lines as he fondles your breasts. “You are temptation made flesh and I cannot resist you.” His hand dips lower towards your abdomen, teasing you with his touch just above where you are joined with him.

"I want to consume all of you.”

A cry of passion escapes your lips as you feel deft fingers circle your delicate nub in a steady rhythm. You throw back your head and moan at the sight that greets you. Vergil’s mouth is completely covered in your blood, desirous eyes staring at you as he moves against you with renewed vigor. He grunts harshly as he pulls you into a heady kiss, tongues sweeping and tasting each other. Your hands leave his hair to do their fair share of painting, stroking and spreading his blood all across his chest as you feel your pleasure coming to a head again. It climbs higher, higher, and higher still…until you feel the distinct pulse deep within you clench down hard, causing you to break away from his mouth as you completely shatter in his embrace. It takes a few more hard and deep brushing thrusts before Vergil joins you, roaring and grunting as he releases his hot seed inside you.

Moments pass as you slowly drift back down from your pleasurable peak, panting and sighing in satisfaction. Vergil hums his own long rumbling purr of contentment as his hips gradually come to a stop. He cradles your shivering body against his chest, rubbing your back gently as the last remnants of your mind-blowing orgasm dies down. All is quiet and calm again, except this time you are not dreading your final death. Instead, you are positively glowing as your frenzy finally recedes from your mind, letting you think with clarity once more. You feel a tiny pang of guilt as you notice the really big bite mark on his neck. He did not show pain when you feed, but you still feel bad for being rough...so you decide to heal it. You carefully lick the mark clean, nuzzling the tender skin as the wounds fully close.

Vergil loosens his hold to appraise your appearance. He hums as his lips, still coated in your blood, curl up into a smug grin. “You’re looking quite sated now, my Evening Star.”

Your earlier agitation at him comes back with a vengeance. With great celerity you reach out for a nearby pillow without leaving his lap and give him a decisive smack aside his head with it. “That's for playing dirty,” you snarl as you show no mercy with the pillow. “You cocky,” whap! “Insufferable…!” whap!

He somehow manages to catch your speedy hand before it lands another hit. “I wouldn’t have had to provoke if you weren’t being such an obstinate woman,” he barks back as he rips the pillow from your grasp. You grumble irritably as he slams his lips against your clamped mouth, coaxing you with his tongue for entry as he lays you back down on the bed. He traps you under his muscular body once more as you resist him, giggling when you cannot deny him anymore and returning his kiss with playfully fervor.

“And,” he starts as he breaks away from your lips. “I don’t ever recall you complaining as you sat in my lap,” he notes as he gives your cheek a peck. “…having a feast that only one such as I can provide.” Another kiss lands close to his bite mark.

You roll your eyes, but do not argue since he is technically right. Damnable devil, you thought, lightly laughing as you survey the mess you have both made of the cheap motel bed. Blood stains are splattered all across the plain white sheets, but at least the bedframe is still intact. The air is heavy with the scent of blood as well. You inhale deeply, taking in that sweet fragrance before letting out a blissful sigh. Your skin starts to feel sticky as the blood you both painted on each other starts to congeal. Raising your head up to his chest, you playfully lick his nipple, catching some of his blood on your tongue.

Vergil grunts and shoots you an irritated glare. You smile innocently as your tongue takes another swipe, humming at the familiar taste. He lets out an indignant huff. Then he smirks and shakes his head fondly. “As much as I find the idea of you licking me clean intriguing…I believe a shower is in order.”

And with that he disengages from your warmth and carries you to the small adjacent bathroom. As you wait for the shower water to warm up you marvel at the lovely pattern his teeth marks made on your neck in the small mirror above the sink. He comes up from behind and wraps his arms around you, asking you how long it will take to heal. You explain that you could use some vitae to completely close the wounds in seconds, but you want keep it for as long as possible. He smiles at your words, kissing your temple before leading you into the hot shower.

While you both wash each you ask how he knew about your vampirism. He admits that it did not take him long to catch on, noticing details such as you not eating meals, your very pale complexion, and the very obvious fact that you refuse to work during the day. You wonder aloud why he did not confront you about it sooner. He just shrugs, saying it was not his concern so long as you continue to be a reliable partner. This makes your heart soar as you thank him for not judging you by your dark nature. He smiles softly as he turns off the water and pushes aside the flimsy shower curtain, helping you step out with a steady hand. Vergil grabs a towel and begins to dry you off. He tells you that he only judges someone by their actions. He also confesses that he believes you to be capable woman with a brilliant mind and a deadly aim with both guns and pillows. You giggle and let him know that his compliments would assuredly turn your cheeks pink if you were mortal.

When he is done drying you, he throws that towel back on the rack and grabs a fresh towel for himself. As he dries his hair you let him know that you are going to see what you can do about the poor bed. He wishes you luck as you head out of the bathroom in search of spare bedsheets. You find some in a tiny closet and set them aside as you get started on pulling off the bloody sheets off. Vergil soon steps out of the bathroom, his usual slicked back hair now down over his eyes, and he helps you not make a bigger mess as you deposit the soiled sheets onto the floor. Luckily, no blood made it onto the mattress, so you spread out a fresh sheet and blanket. You climb into bed and pat the spot beside you eagerly.

Vergil quirks an eyebrow as he slides in beside you. “You know,” he began as he pulls you close, “your unforeseen decision to rent only one room convinced me that you were finally going to reveal yourself to me.”

“Ugh,” you grumble when you remember your amateur blunder and begin explaining yourself. “I forgot to bring my blood packs, and by the time I realized my stupid mistake I was so close to snapping and…” You sigh as you look away in shame. “And I didn’t want to bother you with the burdens of my curse because I wasn’t sure if…I couldn’t-”

You feel warm fingertips take your chin and gently turn your head back to meet Vergil’s sympathetic gaze. “My demon heritage has many advantages,” he states as he cups your cheek and guides your face towards his wonderful neck. “…such as letting my vampire partner gorge herself without worry.” You nuzzle his neck before pricking his skin with your fangs, being careful not to make another mess as you gently suck his blood. He sighs in content as he pets your hair. For the first time in a very long time you feel comfortable, protected…safe.

“Partake of me always,” Vergil whispers close to your ear. “You don’t need blood packs for as long as we're together.” With one firm swipe of your tongue you close the modest bite mark before looking up at Vergil in surprise. His lips press an affectionate kiss on your forehead. “We must keep your fire burning strong, my Evening Star.”

“Why do you call me that?” you inquire as he grabs the blanket and snugly tucks both of you under it.

“It’s a reference from one of Poe’s works.”

“Poe? As in Edgar Allan Poe?” you question curiously. “Huh…how fitting that a dead dour man reminds you of me.”

“He wasn’t always full of gloom. Poe was quite the romantic as well.”

“Hmm.” Your eyes begin to droop you lay your head on his chest. “What about the…poem?” You feel him nod slightly to affirm your guess. “Is it romantic?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Vergil rests his chin atop your head. “Shall I recite it for you?”

“I would like that,” you say quietly, trying hard not to drift off as his lyrical voice paints a beautiful image:

'Twas noontide of summer, And mid-time of night; And stars, in their orbits, Shone pale, thro' the light Of the brighter, cold moon, 'Mid planets her slaves, Herself in the Heavens, Her beam on the waves. I gazed awhile On her cold smile; Too cold- too cold for me- There pass'd, as a shroud, A fleecy cloud, And I turned away to thee, Proud Evening Star, In thy glory afar, And dearer thy beam shall be; For joy to my heart Is the proud part Thou bearest in Heaven at night, And more I admire Thy distant fire, Than that colder, lowly light.

“Mmm,” you mumble, slowly falling, falling… “Being your Evening Star sounds…lovely…” and finally, you let go and slowly slip into a state of repose.

You always thought you were more like the moon up in the dark sky, cold and alone as you shine in the night. But as you lay in Vergil’s arms, hearing the lull of his strong heart beat and the comforting warmth of his skin, you no longer feel cold and lonely. For once in your undying life you feel…cherished.

Perhaps you are not like the moon. With Vergil by your side, you feel more like the twinkling stars: proud, glorious, and never alone as they eternally burn together.

Read on my Ao3

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Tagging: @drusoona, @thedyingmoon, @clevermentalitybeliever, @yepps

#vergil #vergil x reader #devil may cry #dmc 5 #vampire prompt #request #vampire spice #vampire reader #blood #vampire bites #partake of me #who wouldn't want to bite his neck?#and ho boy he's into it #harlor writes

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