#I caught it briefly and fed it enough for it to leave me alone

[forestwhisper3]

Plans to watch MM tomorrow, so I'll finally be able to come back to Tumblr and not worry about spoilers. Just popping in for a moment because while I have been able to do some writing for my fics, I was also goofing around a bit with a random idea that wriggled into my brain while at work, and I thought I'd share it. It's an MCU/Rottmt crossover.

Basically, the premise is that the mystic stuff going on during the fight with Shredder was strong enough for Loki to sense from Asgard, and he gets curious since, as far as he's aware, Midgard shouldn't have anything like that anymore. As he was already looking for a reason to take a break since Thor and the others were getting unbearable with talks of the Coronation becoming more serious, he decided to sneak out for a while to investigate. Yada yada, stuff happens, he meets the boys and somehow finds himself absorbed into their collective as an uncle figure/third dad. He doesn't really fight it.

However, someone decides to take advantage of his absence, and everything leading up to the Avengers movie still ends up happening. Needless to say, he's not happy to have to deal with that during his day out with the boys.

This is all pre-Krang, by the way, so having to face this first invasion would definitely affect how they act during the movie. Am I aware the timelines (as in the years that these events take place in their respective universes) don't match up at all? Yes. Yes, I am. However, I am choosing to purposefully not think about that and just let myself have fun with this. Now, here's a little segment I wrote. Enjoy. :D

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You will all fall before me."

"I highly doubt that," a smooth, familiar voice cut in.

Tony froze- an idle part of his mind noting how the hand gripping his face seemed to do so as well -and his eyes widened as he saw another Loki standing there. Unlike the one with the staff, however, this Loki was dressed much more casually in comparison- worn jeans, a T-shirt, and his hair tied back in a low ponytail.

And he did not look happy.

"You," staff Loki hissed, although curiously enough, Tony could see a hint of nervousness in his eyes.

"Me," casual Loki drawled before his arms uncrossed and he walked towards them, steps measured and purposeful.

"I was gone for one year," he began, voice irritated in the way only one who constantly had to deal with the stupidity of others could be. "One. Year! Practically nothing for Asgardians, and everything falls apart. All I wanted was a break, a bit of time for myself, but noooo. Clearly, even that was asking for too much."

He blinked. That…was not what he was expecting to hear.

"Uh…who are you?"

"How dare-!" staff Loki started before he was immediately up in the air, bound together by some invisible ropes or something and unable to speak.

Now free, Tony worked his jaw as he watched this crazy turn of events. Hey, the longer things stalled, the more time the others had to do what they needed.

"Quiet, you half-rate magician!" Casual Loki snarled before walking over and picking up the staff where it had fallen to the ground. "I don't even know what I'm more upset about- the fact that you dared to impersonate me in my absence or that no one sensed anything was amiss!"

Judging by how his expression darkened at the last bit, Tony was willing to bet which one bothered him more, and damn if he didn't feel a bit bad for the guy. Yeah, this was all confusing as fuck, but he knew what it was like to feel like no one cared enough to notice the important things.

Casual Loki studied the staff in his hands for a second before his eyes widened and he turned to glare at the…fake? Was that really what was happening here? This was seriously the kind of twist he'd expect out of a cheesy b-movie, not real life.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" was the sneered response.

In a remarkable show of restraint unlike anything he'd seen from any Asgardian so far- even Point Break -the real(?) Loki took a deep breath and breathed slowly out of his nose.

"Remember what Dr. Feelings said," he muttered almost too quietly to hear, completely annihilating his trepidation or suspicion towards this new Loki.

There was no way anyone with destruction, world domination, or evilness in general on their mind would go to therapy (and seriously? Dr. Feelings? He hoped that was just a professional name).

Another deep breath, and real Loki finally turned to look at him.

Green.

For a moment, it was all he could see. Green eyes that were as bright and vivid and striking as that emerald he'd tried to buy Pepper once. Compared to the watered-down blue of the fake, it was a wonder Thor hadn't mentioned it. Unless he just didn't notice, which, sadly, sort of tracked with the little he knew about him.

He was really starting to understand why this guy was so pissed off.

"So, lemme get this straight," he said, if only to break the awkward silence he could feel starting to form. "This guy here," he gestured up to the Loki in the air who was scowling furiously at them, "-was pretending to be you? All while you were on what basically amounts to a vacation?"

"It appears so," Loki sighed before he finally gave in and pinched the bridge of his nose. "My sincerest apologies for the trouble. I cannot say I expected such a disaster to result from my time away, but clearly, I have overestimated what little intelligence and reasoning those back home possess."

He held back a cackle of amusement, but it was a near thing, and judging from the way the corner of Loki's mouth twitched, he'd noticed.

"So how'd you know to come here, then?"

"Where do you think I've been?" Loki asked with a huff of laughter.

"No kidding? I thought Asgardians thought we were a little backwater planet. Not exactly the first place I'd imagine for a trip."

"I assure you that Thor only said that because he's an uncultured brute too embarrassed to admit Midgardian technology is beyond his comprehension."

That time he didn't try holding back the cackle.

"How'd you know it was Thor?"

"Please. With that charlatan galavanting about, there is no other the Allfather would have sent. And last we spoke, my brother did not have the most favorable opinion of Midgard."

"Huh…You're the real deal, aren't you?" he asked, the reality of it all sinking in.

This whole time they'd been dealing with someone else. The who still needed to be answered- and that was probably a really important answer now that he thought about it -but this guy was the real Loki. The Loki that Thor talked about with fondness, even if there was grief mixed in. Now that he was getting a chance to have an actual conversation, he could see why Thor had been so defensive of him. He was clever enough to figure things out with minimal information and less closed-minded about things outside his world and culture. He was witty in a way he could appreciate and just…more approachable, in a way. More human.

Completely different from the other guy.

"The one and only," Loki grinned before a more serious expression settled on his face. "Now, we should probably figure out what to do about the portal device on your rooftop."

"Wait, didn't you stop it?"

"I only managed to interrupt the connection process, and even that is taking considerable focus on my end," Loki shook his head. "The best I can do is delay the portal from opening and hope we find a way to shut it down before then."

"How long do we have?"

"Around…eight minutes."

"That little?!"

Loki's brows furrowed. "I do not jest when I say I am one of the most powerful mages in the Nine Realms, but it is precisely for that reason we even have that long. As skilled as I am, I am no match for the power of an Infinity Stone."

"Infini-what now?"

Loki suddenly looked like he'd bitten into a lemon before he looked up at the ceiling as if asking for patience.

"Thor, you absolute oaf," he groaned, sounding like he was just done with it all. "Don't tell me you didn't even figure out this much?!"

"Does that mean it's time for plan B?" a voice asked, seeming to come from Loki's forearm.

A forearm that had a strange, glowing symbol of some kind floating above it, and how had he not noticed it until now?

"Yes," he sighed. "I suppose it does. But be careful. Let Donatello try to disable the device before you attempt anything mystic. There's no telling how the two energies will react to one another, and I don't want to risk you getting hurt. I'll never hear the end of it from your father otherwise."

"Ooh, I was hoping you'd say that!" a second voice replied excitedly. "Such beautiful and advanced technology! I can hardly wait to crack this baby open!"

"Nerd!"

"Guys, focus!" yet another voice- and was it just him, or did they all sound really young? -cut in sternly. "You heard what he said! We've only got eight minutes!"

"Technically less now."

"Not helping, Leo."

"We got this!" a fourth voice chirped, somehow managing to sound cheerful and determined all at once. "Don't worry about us! Just do your thing, and we'll do ours, okay? Okay! Good luck, love you, bye!"

There was a crack and a yelp from the other side.

"I'm fine!" the second voice said, sounding a bit muffled. "Just some minor resistance!"

"Dude, why does the machine have a force field?!"

"Shut up! The comm's still on!"

"Oh shit, turn it off! Turn it-!"

The sound cut off, and the glowing circle faded. Loki stared at his arm for a moment, a mix of emotions warring on his face. Concern was one, along with exasperation, but there was amusement there too, and fondness.

"So…kids, huh?" he asked, admittedly curious. "Thor never mentioned being an uncle, but then again, mythology does say differently."

Loki snorted. "So I've seen. I can assure you, Stark, that those stories have been grossly exaggerated."

"You didn't deny it, though."

He grinned when that got an actual chuckle in response.

"I nursed a few animals back to health in my youth," he clarified. "But word of mouth and crude record keeping stretched out over a few hundred years tend to make for a wildly different account of events."

"Like the world's longest and most twisted game of telephone."

"And here I thought I was the ancient one."

That startled a laugh out of him.

"Oh, I like you," he grinned.

He really hoped this wasn't some sort of elaborate trap because he was already attached. He wondered what the odds were for him to convince Loki to extend his vacation after this…

"Now, as riveting as this conversation is, we do have a rather pressing matter on our hands," Loki reminded him. "One that I would like to resolve as quickly as possible lest-"

"LOKI!!"

"Oh for fuck's s-"

He didn't get to finish before he was thrown against a wall.

[whumpshaped]

What if Helle found Beck after a night of drinking and didn’t know how to act when Beck is overly comfortable with seeing them? Sorry if ooc for Beck

i didnt know whether itd be ooc so i just started writing and let it take me wherever it wanted to lol i hope u enjoy!!!

masterlist

tw vampire whumper, intimate whumper, alcohol and drinking and being drunk, dubcon kissy on cheek

He deserved this. He had been living in terror for the past month, and all he wanted was a bit of fun. Spending time with his friends. Normalcy.

Beck downed his third shot way too quickly, eager to forget about the fact that he was a vampire chewtoy now, and it was likely only a matter of time before Helle decided to escalate. This could've been his last free night! So why not make it a stupidly drunk one?

"I've never seen you drink like that," Sofie said with equal parts awe and worry in her voice. "Is this still about that bite scare?"

"I just wanna have fun," he whined. "Can't I? I'm fine."

"I'd never dream of prohibiting that." She still looked nervous, making Beck groan.

"I haven't been out at night for weeks. I just wanna... relax. I just wanna feel normal for a second." He briefly thought about switching his and Noah's shot glasses while he was in the bathroom and drinking his share too, but he wasn't drunk enough yet to trade mouth germs. "Is that such a crime? I won't, like, drink myself into oblivion."

"You're right," she conceded. "I'm not your mother or anything. I'm sure you can look after yourself."

"Thank you. I'll be responsible."

He ended up being less than responsible, buying and consuming at least three more shots. There was no stopping the constant whirling and swirling of the bar anymore, and he barely had the strength to keep his eyes open — but the spinning got so much worse whenever he closed them.

He somehow managed to pay for everything before sliding off the bar stool and heading towards the exit, never considering that it was well past midnight and the crowd outside was thinning. Thoughts of vampires were drowned out by a sudden desire for some pizza, and he decided to try to get to a restaurant he'd been to exactly one time before and gotten lost on the way. He had even been sober, then.

"Oh, goddammit... It should be right here," he muttered, staring at the closed clothing store. "Would it even be open at this hour..?"

"Beck?"

The vampire's voice cut through the drunken haze like a dagger, and he spun around to face them with such momentum that he almost lost his balance entirely. "Helle!" His back hit the locked glass doors of the shop behind him, and he was grateful for the added support. "I'm– I'm looking for the pizza place. You wouldn't happen to know where that is, huh?"

Helle tilted their head at him in curiosity, and he really wished he could've waved a magic wand and sobered up instantly. They had already fed for the night. They were supposed to leave him alone for the rest of it. "Do you drink often?" they asked, completely disregarding his question.

He couldn't help it when he just... laughed. It was an involuntary reaction, a result of his anxiety and the absurdity of the situation. "I don't think that's any of your business!" He flinched back immediately after saying it, cursing himself internally. "Well, I mean, it's not like– y'know, I'm just saying..."

"It is definitely my business. Do you even know how bitter alcohol makes the blood?" They stalked closer, and Beck quickly tried to slip away and continue walking down the street.

"Nope! And you absolutely don't have to put yourself through that!" He almost cursed out loud this time when Helle caught up to him, casual as ever. "Really, I'm just gonna– you know what? I really don't want pizza anymore. I'm gonna– I'm gonna head home. It was great seeing you–"

He did a swift 180, swift enough to stumble and trip over his own feet again, for real this time. Helle was quicker, catching him by the arm before he even realised he was falling. "Humans baffle me sometimes," they murmured. "Your solution to being pursued by a dangerous predator is to make yourself even more vulnerable?"

"No, no, I drank all that alcohol so you'd hate the taste of my blood. I totally knew about the bitterness. This is like– this is advanced, I wouldn't expect you to understand." He pulled on his arm weakly, not even surprised when it did nothing to make Helle release him. "Sorry, I'm just saying anything at this point," he added with a nervous little laugh. "I always do that. I shouldn't be allowed to drink. Hey, how about– what if you let go of me, and then, then I went home, and we just forgot about this?"

"I wish I could." They pulled him even closer, their amused smile greatly undermining their semi-serious tone. "But you are just adorable when you cannot shut up. Not to mention how warm you are right now... flushed... I think you should drink more, actually."

Beck could feel his face getting even warmer at the closeness. A misguided, touch-starved part of him recognised Helle's words as almost flattery, and desperately wanted to just lean into it. The other, rational, sober part of him wanted to run — but it was difficult with his limbs not complying. "You d-don't actually think that," he stammered, still making futile attempts at pushing the vampire away. "I get so annoying."

They must've realised how much he wanted them to deny that, because their smile widened, red eyes gleaming with mischief. "I do think that," they purred. "I always think you are cutest when you tell the truth. When you let that blatant need for praise shine right through."

"I don't– I don't... huh?" He was properly flustered now, so much so that he forgot he was supposed to be struggling. "Stop mocking me," he said without any conviction, so quiet that it could've easily gotten lost in the noise of the street. He knew they heard it, though. A perk of talking to vampires.

God, what was he thinking?

"I would never dream of mocking you. Not when you look so pretty and desperate." His breath hitched when they leaned in, pulling him closer by his shirt to press a kiss to his cheek. "Unless you asked me to, of course. But I thought you were trying to get away," they whispered. "Why are you clinging now?"

Beck had no idea when his fingers had gotten tangled up in the fabric of Helle's sweater, and he pushed them away instantly, thoroughly embarrassed and confused. "I'm g-going home," he exclaimed, waiting for Helle to stop him, or say something that would've made him change his mind, or... something. But they didn't. They just stood there, smiling, letting Beck look like a complete idiot.

"Do you secretly live here?" they teased. "Or would you like to spend some more time with me?"

"Absolutely not. I'm– I'm going. Bye." He turned to leave, getting out of there as fast as he could. He rubbed his cheek absentmindedly with the sleeve of his hoodie the entire way to the bus station, trying to get rid of the feeling of soft lips against his skin.

He really, truly shouldn't have been allowed to drink.

~

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[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Least

CW: Hypothermia, environmental whump, referenced pet whump, this is genuinely a comf piece though

Follows after this piece. You can see other work Marc Sonders is in right here. For @amonthofwhump day 5, Trapped in a Blizzard

-

A knock sounds at the door, but Marc doesn’t dare move out from under the blankets, even just to answer it. He’s not even sure he can. 

He’s still shivering, muscles locking and releasing so intensely and so close together that he isn’t sure he’d be able to stay standing even if he did try to get up. All he does is briefly peek his head out from under the blankets and say, in a tremulous voice, “C-come in!”

The door doesn’t lock, anyway.

Not from the inside.

It’s made to keep him in, not keep anyone else out. Even if it was unlocked, he’d never make it back into the town before he froze out there in the snowstorm. It’s coming down too hard, too fast, and it’s so cold Marc can barely stand to breathe in the air. It’s like knives stabbing deep into his lungs.

He’s in a little shack of a space just outside of Hope, far enough away that the residents aren’t frightened of his presence, but close enough for interrogations. So far, he’s answered every question they give him, and Brock thanked him for not being trouble. He’d explained to Marc, in his friendly enough voice, that he’s never felt easy having to make someone scream.

Me neither, Marc had confessed, and Brock’s thin humorless smile told him that his attempt to connect had not exactly been a resounding success. 

Between you and the person you were doing harm to, Brock had said in a level voice, only one of you held the remote, Handler Sonders. Only one of you held a whip. Only one of you held any power to stop it.

Right, but it didn’t-... feel like-... I’m sorry. Please, call me Marc. I’m not a handler anymore.

You and I both know that handlers don’t have the option to simply quit. You remain Handler Sonders until and unless I change my mind. You see, Handler, between the two of us... only one of us has the key to that door. Only one of us can order you buried in the woods or up on the mountain.

Marc swallowed around a lump in his throat. Only... only one of us has the power, he echoed.

Brock smiled. Precisely, Handler Sonders. Your cooperation so far is appreciated. We’ll be voting on allowing you out in another few days.

Then he had left Marc here, sometime... yesterday. Just before the snow started to fall, and the temperature dropped from chilly to dangerously freezing in what felt like ten minutes but in all reality, probably took a couple of hours. Now he’s out here, in a shack-house located inside a fenced-in horse pasture. The horses are settled snugly tight into a stable, now, a big barn that looks like a painting against the view of the mountains in the distance, the forest where the secret road to the border winds through. Marc has seen people trudging in and out to keep them fed, caught a flash of heavy woolen horse blankets slid over their backs. They’re warm enough. 

It’s just Marc who is freezing, slowly, maybe to death.

Maybe that’s how they get rid of handlers out here. Maybe they held the vote, he failed, and now... this. He’ll stay locked alone in a single room with almost nothing in it. He’ll lay here, isolated, until he loses his mind. He can’t say he’d blame them, really. Not after what he’s been party to.

The key turns in the lock, the door pushes open inward, and Marc’s first thought is simply of the white.

Snow is piled up two feet high against the door, some of it spilling downward and not even melting much when it touches the little shack’s floor. That’s… probably not good. 

Heavy snow boots crunch down onto the floor, thickly padded quilted snow pants shaking white powder off, heavy gloves that barely resemble hands and a ski coat, gloves, face mask, and fur-lined hood. The figure is short, but with all that on, Marc can’t begin to tell who it is, other than to know it isn’t Beringer.

Ber’s taller than that, and he wouldn’t leave Mallie alone, not to come out here. 

Not that they’ve let them see each other more than once or twice, and it’s been at least two days since the last visit. Two days since Ber had last pressed a quick, rushed kiss to his lips and Mallie had wrinkled her nose and declared them both very gross and then cried when Beringer had to pull her out of Marc’s arms. 

Ber is probably already in Canada, honestly. They’d want to get him up to the border ahead of the storm. Marc wouldn’t hold it against him. If he took Mallie with him, well, that’s good, too, even though it makes Marc’s entire chest burn and ache and tears sting his eyes at the idea of his little girl being somewhere where he can’t see her again.

It’s okay, though. Someone else can do a better job raising her to know right from wrong. God knows Marc’s fucked her up just by making the choices he made, choices he thought would help him afford a good life for her, but what’s a good life if you’re not actually good? Beringer knew being a pet was wrong even while he was one. Marc had to figure it out from conversations over Mallie’s little head with a man who seemed to catch his attention more every day at drop off and pickup, until he realized…

He had a crush on a pet.

Not wanting him like the prospectives want them. Not wanting him like a body, but wanting to know the person inside of it. He had wanted to know who Beringer had been before, and had let himself go hunting for information he wasn’t supposed to have to find out. He’d asked about his favorite tv shows and really cared about the answer.

He’s been a bad guy in so many lives, and he never felt happy about it but a job’s a job, right? You have to make a living. WRU made it so he could have a house with a backyard for Mallie to play in, so he could take her to the doctor when she was sick and buy ridiculous cakes for birthdays. WRU had made sure he could pay for Mallie to go to private school - there’s a tuition reimbursement for half the cost, for God’s sake! - and get braces one day… 

It had seemed like a good enough trade - someone else’s life, some stranger’s, made worse to make his better. It had seemed like a good trade… until it wasn’t, any longer. Until he’d realized what it meant to have other lives torn apart to sew together your own.

Yeah… yeah, he won’t blame the people in Hope if they let him freeze to death out here. He deserves it, and more. 

The person in the doorway shoves it shut behind them, dropping a heavy knapsack to the floor and groaning with relief. Then they shove the ski goggles back from over their eyes, pull off the face mask, and Marc realizes who it is, blinking with surprise as he pushes himself up on one elbow, even as his body protests every movement. 

“Rye,” He says, and the young man’s face breaks into a wide smile. 

“You remembered my new name!”

“Course I d-did. It’s a good one. Did… B-Brock s-s-send you?” 

“Yeah. I brought some stuff for you. The others still don’t want you in the town, um, safety reasons. But with the snow…” Rye glanced at a window, watching the snow continuing to fall in great heavy flakes, so close together it felt more like fog than frozen rain. “And the temperature… you’re not safe out here, there’s no real heat in this place. The blizzard’s going to go at least one more day, we think.”

“Yeah.” Marc’s breath puffs out in front of him, making a new cloud right inside the room. “I kn-know. I’m sh-sh-shaking pretty bad, actually… And my h-h-hands feel… well, th-they don’t feel m-m-much…”

“Yeah. So I brought some stuff. You shouldn’t be, um, frostbitten or anything else just yet. You just stay there.” Rye holds up a gloved hand, and Marc settles back into the bed, watching him. The younger man shuffles around, opening up the heavy backpack - it’s one of those army-style things that can hold a hundred pounds of stuff without bursting. The Rye he knew had been lithe and couldn’t possibly have hauled that kind of weight around. But this Rye - he looked a little older, of course, but also stronger. There’s a hint of muscle to him that he hadn’t had before. It looks good, he looks… healthy. Happy.

Marc smiles, watching from beneath the dubious protection of his blankets as Rye starts pulling things out of the knapsack. 

First, a thick plastic square like fogged bathroom windows after a hot shower that Rye tapes over the single window in the shack, his lips pressed together in concentration. Almost immediately, some of the chilly drafty breeze simply stops making its way inside. 

Then, something in a box that he sets down on the little wooden table with its single chair. Marc squints - it’s little heating pads, the kind that you crack and then hold as they warm you. He nearly lunges off the bed for it, startling Rye so badly the kid trips over himself and nearly falls back into the wall.

“Sorry! I’m sorry, just, I’m s-so cold-”

“No, it’s okay, go ahead, you. I just didn’t expect-” Rye laughs, breathy and nervous. “I guess I’m still kind of flinchy from… before I ran away.”

Marc’s useless numb fingers somehow manage to clumsily paw open the box and pull out one of the packs, listening to its crack with a thin trickle of hope as he breaks it. The warmth starts slow, at first, and then all at once and he retreats back into his blankets to hold it tightly until his fingers start to tingle and burn as the feeling fully returns to them. It hurts, but it’s so good to know he can feel things that he doesn’t even care.

“I’m sorry,” He says, looking up to meet Rye’s eyes.

He’s glad the younger man isn��t that close to him. He knows he would smell, if this place wasn’t so frozen he can’t even sweat. He needs a shower, like, three or four days ago now - but really, isn’t this what he deserves? Didn’t he lead trainees with hair matted to their skulls from overwork, or a week in isolation, to the showers more than once?

Even if all he did was look down at his phone and let them have any privacy they could find - even if he never, ever had his own trainees go into iso - he still escorted other trainees as a favor to coworkers. He still saw how they looked at him, worried he would touch them or frightened that he wouldn’t. He still ignored his prickling unease every time a trainee put a hand on his arm to try and curry favor by giving away the only thing they had left to trade.

Even if he said no, every time, he still knew it happened.

And he still worked there.

Hell, he sat across the lunch table in the cafeteria chatting about TV shows and football games with guys he knew had been beating the shit out of someone who couldn’t fight back a half-hour before.

“It’s not your fault,” Rye says, shrugging.

Marc shakes his head. “No, it r-really is.” He watches Rye set up a tiny little space heater in one corner, close to the bed he lays on and facing him. When it clicks on, he’s almost fascinated by the soft buzz and the way, after a few seconds, he can feel a touch of warmth against his cheek. “I could have taken you to a safehouse, or something-”

“Wouldn’t have gone, probably. I don’t know. I don’t like to think about it, the-... the Facility. Training and all that.” Rye lays a blanket over him, one that’s silvered like foil on one side. “Juliet sent this for you, it’s hers. She’s, um. She came here and got stuck out in the cold, too, before they found her, and she says these blankets are worth their weight in gold. She keeps seven in her room.”

“Seven?”

“Seven. She says you never know when you’ll freeze and need them. I think she’s a little scared of cold, now.”

Marc nods. He’s already warming, with the tiny heating pad under the heavy blankets. His toes start to tingle, too, inside the three pairs of socks he’s wearing. “Don’t blame her. I might not be so happy with it, either. Rye, can I ask-... my daughter. Is she-”

“She’s in town, she’s safe. She’s asking for you, a lot, but Brock wants to wait until he can finish asking you questions. Then maybe he’ll have some smugglers take you up to the border or something.”

Marc swallows, his heart nervously fluttering, and forces himself to ask the next question. “And… and the person I came with. Beringer, is he… did he leave, or…”

“Are you kidding?” Rye looks up, and then smiles. His face is full of kindness, just like it was in training. He was such a good trainee, worked his ass off in his classes, just rocketed through every step. Marc had really liked him.

He’d really enjoyed the company of the poor kid he was helping train to spend his life counting pills to make sure some old lady took them on time-

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “No, I just-... did he make it to Canada before the snow? At least?”

“No. But, hey wait, don’t get upset or anything, I just mean… he didn’t leave. He stayed.”

“He… he stayed?”

“Yeah. He said he won’t go anywhere unless he can take you with him. So he’s watching your daughter while Brock figures everything out.”

Marc’s exhale comes out of him so fast it’s almost an oof, which makes Rye break into soft laughter. Marc puts his burning hands up over his face and finds he could almost sob with relief he hadn’t quite realized he would feel. He won’t go anywhere unless he can take you with him. “Thanks… thanks for telling me. It helps to know.”

“He really likes you, I guess.” Rye pulls out a thermos and a bag of crackers. “We had beef and vegetable soup for lunch. I got you some, plus there’s some cornbread in here, too. It should still be really hot. Oh, and... hold on, Juliet sent some coffee...”

“Thanks… thank you.” Marc pushes himself up to seated, keeping the blankets wrapped tightly around him, and finds his hands working well enough to hold the thermos if he keeps it balanced on his leg. The soup steams up out of it, and he inhales salt and beef broth smell with delight. Has soup ever smelled so good?

Rye hesitates, watching him, and then sits down at the little table. “Handler Sonders-”

“Please, just Marc. I quit, like I said. Or, well, I kind of walked off the job. But please... I don’t want to be called that shit anymore. I ran away.”

“Just like me.” Rye grins, and he has a bright and shining smile, the kind you find yourself answering whether you mean to or not. 

Marc shakes his head, spooning a bit of soup into his mouth and trying not to make an audible sound of happiness as it nearly burns his tongue. Outside the taped-up plastic-covered window, the blizzard is getting heavier. “Not really. You… you ran because of what was done to you. I ran because of what I did.”

“But you decided not to do it anymore.”

“... Yeah, pretty much.” 

“Well, that counts for something.”

“Does it?”

“To me it does.”

Marc takes another bite. This time he can taste the beef a little bit better, gets a chewy bite of it, a bit of carrot that nearly melts as fast as he spoons it up. “So what made you choose the name Rye?”

“I don’t know. I just liked it, the sound of it. Juliet calls me Rye Bread sometimes.” Rye smiles. The little shack is warmer now, with the little heater hard at work, the window taped, and the good company. “I don’t mind, she’s not nice but she’s, um, kind, you know? She’ll do anything for you but she might ask you why you did it the wrong way the first time.”

“I think kind is probably better than nice.” Marc thinks about Rye as a trainee, skinnier then. He’s put on weight, it looks good on him. Weight, muscle, and a brighter smile. “I tried to be nice, but what I did was… evil, not kind. Can you stay for a while?”

Rye glances back outside at the falling snow, then turns back and nods. “Sure. For a little bit. Not like we can do most of our chores in weather like this, anyway.”

“Great. I just… tell me about your life.”

“What part?”

“... everything since the last time I saw you.”

The way Rye brightens at interest and attention is sickeningly familiar, but Marc fights past it. He does want to know, to see what Rye made of himself when he created his own identity, after the Facility took the first one and he decided to shake off the second. He does want to know who Rye really is, now. 

“Uh… okay, yeah, sure. So, you remember my prospective…”

The snow falls, and Marc finds himself wishing he’d known how to walk off the job when he could have taken Rye, too, but finds that in the end… in the end, it doesn’t matter. Rye found his own way here, and so did all the others in the little town.

Marc wants to know them all.

It’s the least he can do.

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @arlinthesnep @endless-whump @doveotions @emdeighamae @wildfaewhump @whump-tr0pes @hackles-up @orchidscript 

[proserpina-magnus]

hi I hope you’re feeling good and staying hydrated

I was wondering if you would feel comfortable with writing a poly!marauders x reader one shot where she struggles with eating, especially sweets - and the boys being supportive etc. idk I just feel guilty even for wanting to eat something or drink a hot cocoa.

sorry if that was all over the place and sorry if I made you uncomfortable that’s the last thing I wanted to do. really sorry, love you so much

hi! I'm glad you requested this, I really hope you find some sort of comfort in this. I want you to know that you deserve to eat and if you ever need someone to talk to, you can always message me privately. I would love to help however I can. 

- quick note before you read, I included Peter (young, of course), I tried to not make his character really talkative in case you only wanted the main three. 

The marauders when you struggle with eating 

word count: 2292

THIS CAN BE VERY TRIGGERING, PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU READ THE WARNING BEFORE CONTINUING!! 

[ warning: fem reader, eating issues/(disorder?), HEAVY description of guilt revolving food, swearing, nicknames such as “love” and “pup”, slight kissing, hand holding, anxiety, multiple romantic partners ] 

You stared through a crack between your bed curtains, completely in the dark aside from a small glow of light. You can barely tell the time if you slide ever so slightly, making you aware of the bare feeling in your stomach.

8:49 am, was read in bright red digital lights. Your face doesn't shift to another expression other than complete mellowness. You denied to hear what your dorm mates were yelling at you. "[ name ]! One last chance to get out of bed or I'm leaving for breakfast without you!"

You yelled a small "whatever", fed up with the constant yelling. You wanted to be alone with this empty feeling, completely in the dark.

"I better see you in class!" She called before you heard the door close. Finally alone in the room, you lay completely still. When your stomach growled, you felt a deep guilt wash over you. The guilt of eating filled you whole, almost enough to fill your empty stomach.

If you went to the great hall, you would just shove your mouth full. It was better if you just stuck it out till lunch, usually, they didn't serve as many sweets than.

You waited 9 minutes, which felt like hours in the silence. You were just about to close your eyes when a loud knocking came at your door.

Your eyebrows raised, lifting your hand to pull back the curtain. You heard loud whispers, making it clear who your visitors were.

"Go away!" You shouted to the door, hearing their whispers fade for a moment before you saw the doorknob turn. You quickly pushed the curtain closed, covering you in complete darkness. You sank even deeper into your pillows, covering yourself with a heavy blanket as you only wished to be at peace for once.

"Love, you need to come down for breakfast," Remus's voice came first, you heard the curtains being pulled back to completely showcase your bed. You felt the bright light through the blanket, closing your eyes tight.

"I'm not hungry," you told them, somehow hoping they would just go away. But you felt a weight shift in the bed, one of them had sat down right beside your legs.

"You didn't eat that much during dinner yesterday, s'think you should eat," James's voice came, his voice was always comforting. It was deep like honey, another wave of guilt had filled you.

"I'm not hungry," you told them again, uncertainty in your answer this time as you felt a hand get placed on your knee.

"I don't want to eat," you continued, the blanket still pulled over your head as you stared into the darkness. It went quiet for a few moments, you could feel their emotions shift the room as you felt this nervous sweaty feeling.

"Just because you don't want to eat, doesn't mean you shouldn't," Remus said, the blanket slowly getting pulled away to expose your head. Your hair was clumsily sticking to your head, tangles meshed together as you stared ahead at nothing.

Your gaze first met Sirius, since he was the one sitting closest to you on the bed. James was leaning against your trunk, a sorrowful expression on his face when he realized your state. Remus was standing, hands over his chest as you shifting between feet, he looked like a wounded animal. Peter was sitting on top of your dorm mate's bed, fidgeting with his fingers as he gave you a small smile.

"You're allowed to eat love, you shouldn't feel guilty for keeping yourself healthy," Sirius smiled wide, hoping you as well would show him a smile. You only looked towards your bedside, reaching for the glass of water.

"It's easier said than done," you corrected him, finishing off your water. The past few weeks you had begun to drink more water, hoping it would give you some comfort for the food you hadn't eaten.

"Truth be told love, we wouldn't care what you'd look like," James replied, standing up straight before making his way over to your bed. He leaned down, kissing your cheek sweetly.

"Well, I care what I look like!" You told him, Remus tapping his foot anxiously as he watched you display your guilt.

James wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you up in a sitting position. You held a deep frown on your face, looking at Sirius as you finally wrapped your arms around James.

"You can care about how you look all you want, but if what your doing to accomplish that is harmful you can't be doing that," Remus told you, staring at you deeply.

"Not eating is harmful, you know that." Remus continued with his little speech, James still buried into your embrace. You wiggled your fingers through his thick hair, pulling him closer.

"I don't care," you told him, not breaking your stare with Remus. You felt like yelling and screaming at them to leave, but the feeling of warmth James was providing gave you a moment to calm down.

"We do," Sirius finished the little argument quick, shutting your response down as he leaned over to kiss your lips gently. You let him kiss you, barely giving any effort to kiss him back. He smiled when he pulled away, ruffling your hair.

"James c'mon, we're gonna go get food," Remus said, walking towards the door as James gave a long squeeze before departing from you. You reached your hands out to Sirius instead, wanting the warmth again.

Sirius happily excepted your request, sliding into James's place as his arms came to wrap around your blanket-covered body.

"We'll be quick, promise," James said while giving a beaming smile.

"Don't hurry," you said, still grumpy from the morning and the feeling of an empty stomach. Remus shot you a glare, making you back down quickly as you watched Peter come over to your bed.

"Do you want me to brush your hair?" Peter asked quietly, you nodded reaching over to the hairbrush as you passed it to him. Peter slipped behind you, section your hair briefly before sliding the brush down your tangled hair.  When you winced at a certain tug, Peter instantly pulled back slightly.

"Sorry love," he mumbled, quickly getting rid of the tangles. You leaned back into peters chest, Sirius shifting to rest against your chest.

"It's alright," you told him, giving a small smile as you felt Peter's fingers come to massage your scalp. Starting from the back of your skull to the front, your head instantly lolled back at the affection.

"That feels so nice," you gave a small praise, feeling comfortable as the door opened. James and Remus came in, plates filling their hands as almost every type of breakfast item filled it to the brim.

"I'm not gonna eat all that!" You told them, astonished from how much of a variety there was. Your mouth watered at the sight of it, a deeper hunger making itself known.

"It's alright, we'll finish what's left," James said, plopping the plates down on your bed. Sirius and Peter hadn't made any changes in their position, you looked down towards a sleeping Sirius.

"Sirius come on, [ names ] has to eat," Remus whispered into Sirius's ear, They quickly gave you space. When Peter shifted, you caught his arm in your hand.

"No, stay, I like it," you told him, relaxing back into his chest as his arms came to rest against your waist.

You got passed a buttered pastry by James, you stared at it for a minute. The lies making you feel guilt you didn't deserve, you debated whether you deserved such a sugary treat.

"It's alright love," Remus said first, coming to sit next to your side as he rested his hand against your cheek.

"It's really hard," you admitted to him, tears filling your eyes briefly before you looked away to stare at nothing. Remus brought your face back to his, giving a gentle smile.

"We know love, we're right here okay? You're safe and you deserve to eat," Remus told you, The rest of the guys agreeing. You sniffled slightly, nodding as you took the pastry from James.

"It's really awkward if your all just waiting for me," you told them, Sirius whipped his head around so fast you'd thought he'd get whip-lash.

Remus was telling Sirius off, distracting the boys with the small fight. You watched as Remus began to curse at Sirius, James coming to Sirius's defence. Remus was so easy to piss off, it was kind of entertaining.

You took a bite of the pastry, a warmth filling your mouth as you chewed slowly then swallowed, it felt good. Peter yelled from behind you, telling Sirius off for something he said that you didn't listen to.

You laughed at the bickering, finishing your pastry as you reached for another one without a second thought.

"Do you want one Peter?" You asked, turning your head slightly to catch his eyes.

"Sure, can you pass me the biscuits?" He asked, you gladly excepted. You gave him the biscuit, grabbing one for yourself as you finished off your food quickly.

The boys' bickering came to a haunt, Remus pointing to the bed as they all shut up and sat next to you again. You pointed towards the toast, Sirius passed it to you.

"Are you guys gonna eat?" You asked, taking a bite out of your buttered toast. It melted in your mouth, you had to resist the feeling of rolling your eyes to the back of your head.

"Of course," James said, picking up a biscuit as he took a bite. Sirius grabbed a waffle, eating it with his bare hands as Remus gave him a dirty look. Remus waited, eyes strictly on you for a while as he watched you finish your toast.

When you had reached for the fruit, Remus started to eat as well. James passed you a fork, all of the boys had big smiles on their faces.

"Does it taste good?" James asked, you nodded instantly as you swallowed some of the fruit. You started to feel full, but your eyes locked on one of your favourite treats.

"Have it, love," Sirius noticed, passing you the plate as you took it with shaky hands.

"It has too much sugar," you told him, pushing the plate back. Sirius didn't take it, James gave your knee a small pat.

"It's alright, you can still have it," James told you, his voice was firm and comforting as you believed him. You could have it, you deserved it.

"Okay," you whispered, bringing the pastry to your lips as you took a bite. The flavour exploded in your mouth, making you smile. You covered your mouth, chewing.

"Is that a smile I see?" Sirius asked, smiling himself as he leaned closer to you. You finished chewing the bite, swallowing it down quickly.

"Oh shush," you told him, pushing him away as you rested back onto Peter. You shuffled your feet, laying them over James's legs as you continued to chew.

After the last bite, you felt completely filled. The guilt had weighed in quickly, making you feel like throwing up as you grabbing onto Remus's hand.

"You alright, love?" He asked you, all eyes on you as you became more nervous.

"Did I eat too much?" You asked, squeezing his fingers tightly between your own. You felt your nerves bundle up, rolling your neck to try and ease the tension.

"No, of course not. If your full then you ate just enough," Remus comforted, bringing your hand to his lips. His words helped you settle down, you reached for your water again. You took a sip before breaking out of Peter's embrace, crawling slightly towards James.

"Hello," James greeted, smiling as he let you push your lips against his. His fingers wrapped in your hair, bringing you closer as you kissed him deeper. You pulled away breathless, your face flushed as you hide against his shoulder.

"We're so proud of you, you've done so well pup. You don't know how much it means to us that your eating," Sirius's voice came beside you, his hand coming to rest onto your lower back. You continued to hide your face against James's chest, letting your eyes close.

"Thank you," you whispered, the guilt had washed away for the moment. You felt completely safe, you deserved this moment.

"It's our pleasure," Sirius said, kissing your head as he started to clean up the plates. The rest of the boys finished what was left quickly like they said they would.

You pulled back, getting off the bed to get dressed for the day. Sirius and James helped you pick out your outfit, landing on a plaid skirt and one of James's oversized jumpers. Peter did your hair, putting in colourful clips that matched your skirt.

"Alright, I'm all ready," you told them after leaving the bathroom, smiling as you played with your hair.

They smiled at you, Remus giving you his hand as you instantly locked your fingers with his. Before they opened the door; they stopped short.

"We know this is difficult for you, but we're so proud of you," Remus said, you gave a small nod at the words. Tears almost falling from your eyes as you brought Remus down into a hug.

You hugged Sirius next, Peter second because he was the closest, Than James. James mumbled his applause into your ear, making you squeeze him tight.  You were almost sobbing at this point, wiping your eyes as your mascara slightly smudged.

"Look what you did," you told them, chuckling as you wiped up quickly. Your eyes puffy and red, but you felt loved so you couldn't care.

[duskamethyst]

cozen.

a/n: just realized that the colors of my banners are different on laptop and phone and that pissed me off.

word count: 3.9k 

genre: smut, nsfw

warnings: noncon/dubcon, exhibitionism, public sex, thigh riding, squirting, sexual assault, stalking, power abuse

pairing: aizawa x f!reader

summary: where aizawa deliberately takes on the roll as your guardian inside the train, but of course he has other plans.

the worst place to be during the rush hour would be inside a train. 

aizawa never bothered to commute because he often walked to work and back home but for you, he was willing to make an exception. 

you caught his attention during one of his evening patrols, walking alone in the big city with a short skirt that accentuated your curves and long legs. aizawa discovered the fact that you used the train to get to work daily and with the fact that you were always alone, he knew that you were always put in a vulnerable situation. so, he thought; why not keep an eye on you? maybe his job as a hero could give him a little advantage too.

like a child, he finds himself eager to get on the train. of course, he doesn’t really know which coach you would be standing in but his commute turns out to be so much worth it whenever he does end up standing in the same one as you.

in the morning, you would be there before he gets in and he’s the first one to step off the train in the evening. he assumes that you live somewhere closer to the end of the train’s final stop but he doesn’t know exactly where. so far, he has learned which station you use to wait for the train for your ride home from work. 

and today seems to be one of those days where he is lucky enough to see you in the same coach, squeezed between a throng of people. aizawa always noticed the fed up and uncomfortable look on your face as you held on to the bar but it was because of no other than a pervert deliberately rubbing his front on your backside. 

he’s sort of mad that you just let it happen, quietly accepting the assault being thrown at you. he can see how your face is contorted into anger and vexation as you try to nudge the man with your elbow and what he assumes as the man muttering half-assed apologies before he starts to blatantly repeat the same shit again. 

you look around pleadingly for someone to intervene and your hands are balled into tight fists, ready to swing any moment but you hesitate because you’re afraid of being the one who will end up getting into trouble and especially since you don’t have any concrete evidence that you’re being harassed either.

for a moment, his gaze locks briefly with yours before you turn away, probably to seek for someone else to come to your aid. he knows that almost no heroes ride the train, since they either patrol on the streets or keep watch from up above but he is currently the outlier, and what kind of hero would he be if he just continues to turn a blind eye on this? maybe it’s time for him to steal the opportunity to play hero and finally get an excuse to talk to you after a long time of observing you from the sidelines. 

aizawa slowly pushes the people aside to make his way over to your side and takes you by surprise by putting his hand on your shoulder.

“baby, why didn’t you pick up the phone?” he sighs and says a little too loudly so the creep behind you can hear. you look at him perplexingly but he just gives you a silent look that tells you to play along. 

“u-uh.. i’m sorry. my phone is on silent.” you try to reply with the same tone. “but i’m glad you found me! thought i’ve lost you.” 

the way you inch closer to him doesn’t go unnoticed, especially how your boob is literally pressing on his side. aizawa quickly glances to the man who still seems to be unbothered by the fake acting (not that he can tell) so he spins you around to face him instead. 

good lord. maybe he shouldn’t have done that. 

now aizawa can clearly see that your tits are squished against his chest through the unbuttoned top of your little white blouse. your gaze strays somewhere else, probably in embarrassment or maybe you don’t mind at all– he can’t tell nor can he think straight right now but he’s here for one purpose and he’s going to honor it. 

“how’s work today?” he inquires, turning your head to him with his fingers so it would seem like you both are engaging in a natural conversation between lovers. he is able to see your tired eyes up close but they seem to carry the same soft look he’s so smitten with.

“hard.” he tenses up a little at the possibility of you noticing the erection in his pants but thank god they’re baggy or else the tent would be obvious. “i missed you.”

aizawa’s heart is bursting in his chest but he places on his mask of unfazed expression perfectly. he still has a role to play after all.

he leans down to whisper in your ear yet his eyes bore intimidatingly into the man’s, “i’m sorry to hear that, sweetheart. but i promised to take good care of you tonight, remember?”

perhaps that was a bit of an overstate, but hey, it works. now that the man has caught on, he immediately walks off the train as soon as it stops– not even bothering whether it's where he’s supposed to go or not as he tries to run away from the possibility of getting into trouble with another guy.

“you okay?” he steps back and takes a good look at you only to realize how you’re avoiding his gaze to hide your evidently flushed face. how cute. “you don’t look so good.”

“i-i’m fine.” you mutter. “thank you for saving me.”

“no problem. it’s a part of my job. i just happened to be here.” he points out in a blatant lie.

you look at him in surprise as if finally connecting the dots, “wait, are you a hero?”

“uh, i guess– yes, i am.”

it’s the first time you’ve ever seen a hero being vague about his profession– or maybe you just made him feel uncomfortable to admit that he’s one when you, a quirkless citizen should be acknowledging the heroes that are risking their lives to protect the country so they should at least deserve some recognition, him included. 

“i’m sorry. i didn’t recognize you and i don’t really keep up with the heroes.” you laugh nervously, afraid of offending the male. though you can’t really tell what he thinks nor can you tell if he even cares from the look on his face but he only observes you silently before his lips turn to a lopsided smile. 

he doesn’t take it to heart, of course, but he finds it endearing that you’re trying to make him feel better. aizawa is not one that likes to be in the limelight anyway, so he doesn’t blame you. 

the number of people in the train gradually dissipates as the train stops station by station, leaving him and you together with some other few who have taken their seats to doze off. aizawa’s platform has long passed by but he decides to stay with you with intent to know where you actually live.  

aizawa doesn’t speak much the whole ride, only answering your questions and listening to you as you talk about your life. he learns that you’re a fresh graduate who just started working in an office and saving up to buy a car so you don’t have to trouble yourself with train rides anymore. he doesn’t know why you entrust him with the fact that you live alone in your apartment, but he’s relieved that you do. maybe it’s easy to trust a hero. man or not. 

but his filthy gaze lingers around your body once in a while– blood rushes to his cock when he sees the plush thighs that are exposed from your short skirt as you sit, the two buttons on your blouse that looks like they’re about to pop off from your breasts and the way your puffy lips jut out slightly when you stare out the window to watch the sun slowly disappears below the horizon to make way for the dark sky. the ride would’ve been peaceful if not for the uncomfortable throb inside his pants right now.

and soon enough, you stand up from your seat and grab your bag in preparation to step off from the agonizing ride. 

“this is my stop. thank you again, eraser head. it’s nice meeting you!” you beam sweetly before you walk off the train and wave him goodbye as the doors slowly closes between the two of you. 

aizawa can’t wait to see you again tomorrow– but now he needs a change of pace. since he doesn’t want to take risk of you finding out that he intentionally missed his platform, he chooses to only ride the train in the evening now.

with his height, aizawa is able to see you looking around as soon as you step into the train with exhaustion written all over your face. however, it’s instantly washed away with an exuberant look when you notice him staring at you from the other side. his heart swells with joy as he watches you push yourself through the crowd with your bag covering your chest protectively.

“found you, eraser!” you chirp as you stand in front of the male.

“oh? so you were looking for me?” he replies coyly, sinking lower into his scarf to keep his burning cheeks out of sight.

you nod eagerly and sigh, “i looked for you this morning too, but i guess you were on a different coach or something.”

“why? you wanted to use me so i’d protect you from perverts?” 

“oops. busted.” you laugh. 

if that’s the one thing that binds you and him, he doesn’t really mind. aizawa is pleased to know that you’re willing to be around him as much as he does. it then comes to a point where you both promise to be in the same coach in the evening.

it has been over a week since aizawa restrained his lecherous intentions. all of those days he has seen you don that short skirt that seems to hug your ass so well. every weekday evening he gets to glance down over your cleavage when you press yourself closely against him and when you’re not facing him? he can feel that ass just lightly brushing, teasing him when the train shakes and he knows he won’t be able to take it any longer. 

what is he waiting for anyway? when this is all what he coveted in the first place? fuck playing the reliable hero. 

aizawa doesn’t want to regard himself and the creeps inside the train as equals. he’s different. he’s a hero and because of that, he got you always wanting to stay close to him without him compelling. you’re so sweet to him, so trusting and you never give him the dirty look whenever he places his hand too low on your back. 

more people are joining in from different stations so as usual, aizawa quickly pulls you into a corner nearby one of the doors which he knows won’t be opening for people to get in and get out. he only keeps guard by standing behind you as you take in the view of the same buildings and skyline.

“you have no idea how much i’m dying to own a car.” you sigh as you stare outside the glass window unheedingly and completely oblivious to your surroundings. 

“yes. you’ve said that a million times.” he carefully inches closer (as much as he can anyway) and bravely takes a whiff of your shampoo that never fails to fill and rouse his senses.

“i’m sorry,” you titter. “you must’ve gotten bored of hearing it.” 

“no, i like it.” he whispers audibly in your ear, just enough for both of you to hear. 

“i’m gla–” you’re suddenly startled when you feel something hard prodding against your ass. you start to feel uneasy and try to shift away but a pair of hands brazenly grab your breasts, almost making you yelp in surprise. 

“shh,” his hot breath fans over the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “don’t wanna make a scene.”

your heart instantly drops once you realize the person you trust most, a hero at that, is doing the very same thing he protected you from. you can see the vague reflection ahead– the way his hands are massaging your tits as he litters chaste kisses on the crook of your neck.

you attempt to pry his hands off of you, but he only grabs harder and pushes you closer to the front until your forehead presses against the cold glass.

“aizawa– stop.”

aizawa can hear panic lacing in your voice as you whimper but he simply brushes off your plea, too busy soothing his carnal needs by grinding his hard cock against your ass.

“no. you feel so good.” he nibbles your neck, sucking and biting the supple flesh to leave a bruising mark. 

“p-people are gonna see.” 

“that’d be really hot.” he hoists up your short skirt to prop his knees between your thighs before one of his hands guides your hip and compels you to grind your pussy against his own thigh. 

your eyes lingers around the crowd in the train, in between looking for help and hoping that no one sees what he’s doing to you but everyone’s either immersed in their phones or napping and even when someone does notice you, they just turn away uncomfortably. 

“looks like i’m the only hero in this train, kitten.” he says ironically as the hand from your hips snakes in front to rub circles on your clit. “feels good, does it?” he coos as you try to muffle your whines from escaping. 

you’re clawing on his wrist in an attempt to make him stop, but the harder you try to, the harder he presses your mound and clit.

aizawa slips two fingers inside your panties, barely biting back a groan once he uncovers you wet beneath his fingers. 

“what a surprise.” he chuckles, smearing his fingers with your slick before bringing it up to your mouth. “open up, kitten.” 

you purse your lips in retaliation but he easily rubs his thumb on your hardened nipple, causing you to gasp and he quickly shoves his fingers inside your mouth. your tongue wraps around his fingers, sucking and tasting your own flavor as he observes you through the reflection.

“you like how it tastes?” he pulls out his fingers from your mouth with a lewd pop sound before tugging your panties to the side and sliding a digit swiftly inside your cunt. a surprised yelp manages to roll off your tongue from the intrusion but you quickly look down to hide your humiliation and away from the peculiar gazes of others inside the coach.

aizawa hushes you as he thrusts his fingers slowly, savoring the tightness of your walls while also attempting to keep down the squelching noises from your dripping cunt. 

“it’s okay. most of them are going to step off soon, then you can be as loud as you want.” he murmurs, holding you close to his body while his other hand continuously rubs your nipple with his thumb to stimulate you even further until your world is reduced to his satisfying ministrations. 

as time passes by, more and more people have left the train while a few sleepers still remain. aizawa already has two fingers pumping inside your sopping cunt and your slick is already trickling down your thighs as you try hard to hold in your whines. 

“please– i can’t–” your legs have grown weaker and you can only find support by leaning back against his broad chest. your toes are curling inside your heels and your breath has come out shorter and deeper as he keeps on edging you until he thinks it’s safe to fuck you without the presence of other people seeing his unheroic actions.

“you wanna cum, pretty girl?” he finally picks up the pace, causing your body to squirm as you moan breathlessly. 

“y-yes– please–”

“you’re really sucking me in.” he groans, dragging and curling his fingers against the spongy walls that makes your thighs tremble as you edge closer to an orgasm. “cum for me.”

your hands are clenching hard on his forearm and you feel the muscles in your stomach tightening with so much intensity. with his finger pressing down on your throbbing bud, you eventually come undone and you bite on his arm to stifle your screams. 

“that’s it, princess. just what you need after a long day at work, huh?” he kisses your temple soothingly as you regain composure and struggle to fix your skirt, but he stops you from doing so. 

“aizawa..?” 

“i had a hard day at work too, you know.” he tugs your panties down to your ankles and picks it up. “i deserve something from you too, right? and i’m not talking about this.” you see him showing your panties through the glass before he shoves it inside his pocket.

aizawa wraps his scarf around your body and drags you to the middle of the coach. the fabric works as a bind around your wrists and ties onto the bar handle on top of your head to keep you restrained and exposed in front of a man that is sleeping in his seat. 

“let’s hope he doesn’t wake up soon, hm?” he chuckles and takes his place behind you. 

“you’re out of your–!” 

you can barely contain your shriek when aizawa suddenly rips off the middle of your blouse that sends the buttons flying across from you and he quickly slips his hands underneath your bra to fondle your breasts.

“careful not to wake him up, princess.” he tweaks your pebbled nipples between his fingers to provoke the slightest sound from you but you press your lips firmly to conceal your mewls. “or else he’s gonna see me fucking your tight cunt.”

aizawa spits on his hand and smears his saliva with your slick, making you shudder from sensitivity before his fingers prod into your hole to give you a few pumps in preparation for his cock. 

“i’ve been waiting for this for far too long.” he unzips his pants hastily to free his cock from its confinements and you gulp nervously when you see it in the reflection ahead– already throbbing and fully erected. aizawa lifts one of your legs up and rubs his shaft against your wet, puffy folds before lining his cock with your entrance. 

you look down at the man anxiously, praying silently for him to not wake up (or maybe just never at all) to see you with your legs spread in front of his face for god knows how long it’ll be. you bite your lower lip hard when you feel aizawa’s cock sinking inside your cunt, stretching it as he pushes through your walls. 

“shit. so fucking tight.” he growls in your ear as he sheathes his cock into you, pushing through your convulsing walls and until he has filled you to the brim. he starts to pound into you slowly and you bite back a moan when you feel the delicious drags of his veiny cock inside you.

his tongue traces the shell of your ear, licking all around the erogenous zone that has you shuddering and clenching down on him even more. 

“mmph– you’re milking my cock so well, kitten.” he grunts, flicking your nipple with his free hand before toying with your clit. 

“ah– he-he’s gonna wake up.” you pant, tugging your wrists for release as if the way it binds so securely doesn’t tell you enough that it would be impossible.

“then he’s gonna get one hell of a show.” he says nonchalantly before picking up his pace. 

the squelching noises begin to fill the quiet air as aizawa continues to fuck you relentlessly. your slick is dripping down to his balls and your thighs, pooling underneath you and you can feel that you’re close to reaching another orgasm.

as your state has become more delirious, the man in front of you suddenly grunts in his sleep and a cold rush of fear instantly creeps down your spine. yet, aizawa doesn’t seem bothered when he remains to be balls deep inside you.

“i think you’re getting off on this, princess.” he says between breaths, rutting into you harder when he feels how hard you’re clamping around his cock. 

“b-but– i’m gonna cum–” you whine, body squirming as you ground yourself to not cum.

your pussy is spread wide open in front of the man when aizawa easily lifts up your other leg. your heels have fallen under you and now you’re just practically hanging in mid air with his scarf and hands supporting your body. he angles deeper inside your cunny and your head throws back onto his shoulder when you feel the tip brushing against your cervix. 

“then, cum.” it’s baffling how he manages to make it sound simple, not having a care in the world as if his reputation isn’t in the line right now. “look at me.”

you shyly turn your head to meet his heavy lidded eyes before he crashes his lips onto yours. you drown into his fervor kiss while the pressure continues to build in your lower stomach turns more intense and unbearable. at this point, you think it’s best to just swallow your humiliation.

“let it go.” he whispers against your lips and locks his gaze with your wavering eyes. 

“f-fuck– cumming–!” you instantly draw in for a deep kiss to make him swallow your moans as you finally let yourself come undone. it feels oddly relieving in a sense that has your mind turned to mush, together with the feeling of an insurmountable high. the moment your eyes flutter open again, you realize that there are questionable droplets of water staining the glass window in front of you. 

“you’re a little exhibitionist, aren’t you?” he mocks, yet proud and even more aroused that he managed to make you squirt in a public transport. “he might need to clean up.” 

your eyes trail down to the man in front of you to see some amount of your own arousal trickling down on his poor face. you're so dazed with pleasure that you don’t even bother to care anymore and you just let aizawa fucks you through your high before his cock begins to twitch inside your pussy.

“be a good girl and take all my cum.” his pace soon falters and he holds you still before releasing a thick load inside your cunt. after he has emptied out, aizawa leans in the crook of your neck to catch his breath before removing his cock and putting you down gently. 

“that was fucking good.” he sighs gratifyingly as he pulls his pants back up. aizawa unties your restraints and your legs wobble once they touch the ground, but he quickly catches you in his arms to keep you from falling to the floor. as if on cue, the train finally comes to a halt.

“oh, we’re here.” he picks up your shoes and bag before pulling you closer to him to stand in front of the automatic door. “do you need me to carry you or something?”

you look at him confusingly, then to the small map above your head; you’re at least two stops away from your station and three from his. “but this isn’t our stop.”

“well, this one has always been mine.”

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[nnightskiess]

𝐫𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝

₊° 𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐠𝐝𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭. 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 (𝐲/𝐧), 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐢𝐜, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐥...

𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐱

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

for my great friend lux @redhairedwolfwitch ♡ thank you for everything.

"Hey, you paged us?"

Cristina tilted her head, curious, while you stood behind her, wondering if you were in trouble if the Chief needed you.

"I know you're both most interested in cardio, so..." He motioned the two of you two follow him until your pager went off.

"Shit," You mumbled under your breath, staying slightly behind as you heard Cristina gush about the cardiac trauma Hunt showed her, "I gotta run, Robbins needs me, a complication in the NICU."

"Come on?! Cardiac trauma!" Cristina turned to you, the look on her face saying enough. But you had already started to walk away, putting a spanner in the works of the plan the universe had in store for you.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

"Doctor Bailey!" You rushed after her, wanting to catch up with her and show her the results of the CT she needed, until Cristina appeared out of nowhere, seeming frustrated.

"The new attending doesn't even know how to put in a temporary pacemaker!"

They came to a halt at the nurse's station as you hovered next to Cristina, waiting your turn.

You tilted your head, "Wait- we have a new attending?"

"Did you or did you not ask this man for a new cardio attending?"

"Yes."

"And did he or did he not bring in attending after attending, none of them who seem to please you and all of whom you ran off?" Bailey gave Cristina a look, one that made you have to bite your lip so you wouldn't laugh. Doctor Bailey had her cornered, and rightly so.

"That is not a fair assessment." Cristina bluntly replied.

"Doctor Yang, has it ever occurred to you that you might be the problem? Right, leave this man alone. Go torture the new attending. (Y/S/N), you got the results?"

You passed the results over, leaving as soon as Bailey waved you off, so you could go on your way to pester Cristina.

"So... why is the new cardio attending not to your liking this time?" Cristina rolled her eyes and groaned as she heard the teasing in your voice. You followed her, ignoring the annoyed look on her face, "Let me guess... weird hairdo that keeps distracting you? Bad breath? Silly walk? Or are they just not at your level?" You air quoted, making Cristina stop to stare at you before she continued her walk, but you knew she would talk after that.

"She might have been it once, but oh no, not anymore. She made me put in a temporary transvenous pacemaker because she hadn't done it in ages."

You grimace, having to admit how bad it sounded that a cardio attending didn't know how to., "At least she admitted it?"

Your comment went completely over Cristina's head, who was still fed up with the situation, "She's inexperienced, inadequate and is definitely not a cardio goddess. She's a desert storm barbie, who hasn't seen the inside of an OR in like 10 years. Owen was wrong to bring her here."

"Well... you've used up your three wishes and Webber and Bailey are done with your complaints... so I think you're gonna be stuck with her."

Cristina let her head fall back and let out the biggest groan before turning into another hallway, leaving you to shake your head as you walked to the lifts.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

"So, what do you think of the new cardio attending? Excited to learn from her?" Arizona draped her stethoscope around her neck, following you out of the room.

"I can't say, haven't met her yet... but Cristina seems to be really happy with her."

Arizona raised an eyebrow before she saw the look on your face.

"Oh, yeah, I heard. Wait-" Arizona looked at her pager, "Hm... speaking of the devil, Yang paged me. Walk with me?" She squeezed your arm, hoping you'd follow her.

You briefly caught up with your friend as you walked through the hospital. Jackson and Cristina were standing around a hospital bed, but before the two of you could approach, Arizona's pager went off once more,

"Hm... can you inform the parents of one of our preemie babies of his vitals? They're going home and would like to hear everything's still alright before they leave. Check his vitals with them in the room or they're not going to want to leave. They're persistent, but they're good parents. " Arizona gave you a soft smile as you nodded and grinned, doing as she told, not seeing the other blonde approaching Arizona behind you as you walked away.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

You were leaning against the wall, waiting for Arizona to finish up since she was your ride home, when a happy Cristina all but skidded out of the resident's lounge.

"You're being weird. What's gotten you so happy?" You noted as Cristina's frown from that morning had turned into a wide grin.

"Guess who did a Takeuchi repair today?"

"You did not!?" You gasped and stood up straight, your full attention now on Cristina.

"Uh, not all by myself. But she did let me do the coronary artery anastomosis."

You raised your eyebrows, still surprised. Cristina was a great resident, but that was a big shot surgery, even for her. "Damn, are you taking back your words about her now?"

"Yeah, probably. Which means-" She turned serious again, pointing a finger at you, "The games have begun." She let out another ecstatic laugh before walking off, letting you know you would have to step up and fight to get hours on cardio with the new attending.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

You walked into the lifts the next morning, the coffee Arizona had gotten you in one hand, the charts of the nightshift in the other. You only had five minutes to read them all and then inform your attending of the day of any changes. But with the coffee in your system, you knew you could do this.

You skimmed the first few pages of one of the charts as other people hurried into the lift right as the doors closed. A few floors later, you knew it was your turn to step out when the doors opened. Not wanting to waste any time, you kept your head low to read the charts, but you had to look up and stop when someone crossed your path- quite literally.

A woman hurried by, apologising to people left and right as she rushed through them. Though she had been fast, you had not failed to catch a glimpse of the face that you once so adored.

Teddy Altman.

She hadn't seen you, probably because your nose had been buried in the charts, or because she had been in a rush. You watched her disappear through the double doors towards the OR's and that's when it clicked. Teddy, your old friend from back in New York, the same Teddy that was in love with cardio, was the new cardio attending Cristina suddenly seemed to be gushing about.

You ditched your coffee somewhere, your body suddenly being filled with nerves and stress. It had been years seen you'd seen her. Ever since your mutual friend Allison had passed away on that damned day, you had lost contact with Teddy. Almost as if she had disappeared. Just like that. No note, no phone call, no goodbye. Maybe it had been for the best. The abrupt ending to your friendship had helped you get rid of the wish that it would ever become something more. Teddy was gone, and so were the feelings you had secretly been harbouring inside. But seeing her now... It overwhelmed you how only a glimpse of her could bring back the crapload of memories the two of you had shared. You slipped into one of the vacant seats in the waiting room, clutching the charts against your chest.

"No sitting, (Y/S/N), you've only just started your day. Let's go! We've got jobs to do. Chop-chop!" Bailey walked by, gesturing for you to get up and go.

You stood up, took the deepest breath and made a promise to yourself-

It's been years. You changed. You were no longer the EMT Teddy used to know. You took great pride in the fact you had grown, as a person and as a doctor. You were a resident now. Besides, for all you knew, Teddy didn't want anything to do with you anymore. She must have changed too. Besides, who knows what happened to her after you lost each other.

Teddy might be back, but your feelings were long gone.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

You walked into the cafeteria, talking with some of the Mercy West residents as you grabbed your lunch, placing it on the tray in front of you. You rolled your eyes as they started to gossip, happy you had your food so you could walk away from that. Shaking your head, you turned around to scan the cafeteria, your eyes landing on Arizona's, who waved you over. You froze in your spot as you saw the back of Teddy's head, who was seated at the same table. Without thinking, you turned around and left the cafeteria in a hurry, the tray still in your hands. You hoped you had been fast enough before Teddy could have seen who Arizona had waved to.

Facing Teddy was not on your to-do list any time soon.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

You had successfully managed to avoid running into your old friend all day, rather doing scut or helping out in the clinic than scrubbing in or helping with consults. Anything to stay out of Teddy's way.

"So, will you tell me why you ran like a chicken earlier today?" Arizona wore a playful smile as she from the doorway how you were grabbing your things.

"Um-" You shuffled some things around in your locker, trying to stall coming up with an answer. Arizona was one of your best friends and already knew whatever you would say would be a complete lie, "Stomach ache. Needed a toilet."

Arizona nodded her head, her playful grin not disappearing, "Yeah... I usually like my lunch with some nice sound effects and extra stench too."

"Wha-," You stopped to turn around, "I did not eat my lunch in a toilet."

Arizona shrugged noncommittally, going to the next topic, "Had fun removing haemorrhoids at the clinic today?"

You sighed defeatedly and pushed your jacket in your bag, glaring at Arizona, who was having way too much fun with this.

"Fine. I ate lunch in a toilet cubicle and helped out at the clinic today. What's wrong with that? They need all the help they can get."

"Meanwhile you could've scrubbed in with Doctor Altman and I. She let Yang fix the kid's Alcapa. Could've been you." She shrugged.

She patted your back as you passed her out of the lounge, letting out a groan at the missed opportunity. You clung your bag over your shoulder, greeting colleagues left and right, trying to play it off, but knowing Arizona was following close behind.

"Nice try," Arizona whispered in your ear as you waited for the lifts to arrive.

You sighed and turned around, about to shoot back a witty reply to wash the grin away from your friend's face, until you saw Teddy round the corner into the hallway, coming your way while she talked to an intern. The lifts dinged behind you, but you quickly pulled Arizona away, pushing her into the door that led to the staircases.

"Okay- wait, what just happened?" Arizona let out a breathy chuckle, her eyebrows raised as she tried to decipher what was going on in your head.

"We're taking the stairs down today! Let's go, I haven't reached my 10k steps yet!" You were already walking down, leaving Arizona to look back, thinking she might have missed something, until she eventually followed.

"Okay, tell me what's going on because you've been incredibly weird, all day long." Arizona stopped you when you were about to walk out of the hospital. You looked her in the eyes, seeing the genuine concern.

"Doctor Robbins!" You shut your eyes at the familiar voice and quickly turned around, slipping into the gift store unnoticed, still in hearing distance,

"I wanted to give you this for the follow-up surgery but you left so quickly." Teddy smiled softly, watching how Arizona looked around, noticing you had dipped, "Just read through it at home and we can discuss tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah! Sure! Thanks." Arizona's eyes fell on the back of your head as you tried to distract yourself by looking at the many different postcards of Seattle.

Teddy furrowed her eyebrows slightly, "Um... okay, well, we'll talk tomorrow."

"Sure thing!"

You waited until Teddy had disappeared into the lift again before stepping out from behind the rack, Arizona immediately pulling you out of the gift shop, her mouth agape as she watched with excitement, "You are crushing on Doctor Altman!"

"What? No!"

"What else can it be? That's why you've been avoiding every place she's at like the plague. I knew you would like her, but I didn't know you would like her this much." She raised her eyebrows suggestively, the grin on her face only widening as you sighed and walked out of the hospital.

"I'm not crushing on her. I haven't even met her yet. I'm just... shy... to meet new people. I need more time."

Arizona snorted as she followed you to her car, "Yeah, sure, that's it." But she grew serious when she saw the conflict in your eyes, "You know you can tell me, right? Anything. I don't judge."

You turned in your seat, it was clear you were battling thoughts in your head. You let yourself fall back against the seat as you sighed,

"I don't want Teddy to see me. Not yet, at least."

Arizona rose an eyebrow, silently telling you she needed more information if you wanted her to understand.

"We knew each other. Back in New York."

Arizona nodded slowly, knowing about your life as an EMT in the Big Apple, "Did you fall out? Did you fight? What happened?"

"That's the thing- I don't know. One day we were friends, the next... she was gone? This is the first time I've seen her since 2001 and... I don't know, it threw me off. I don't know what to do or say now."

"She hasn't seen you yet?"

You shrugged, "No, I don't think so. Not that I know."

"Well, were you great friends before she left?"

"You could say that. I just-" You stopped yourself, sneaking a glance at Arizona, who looked back at you with an encouraging smile, "Oh God- okay... I just always feared I might have scared her away?"

Arizona pursed her lips before hearing what you rambled out next, "I had like, the biggest crush on her and for a while, I thought she had one on me too until I realised she was like that with our mutual friend Allison too and-"

"Doctor Altman likes girls?!" Arizona gasped, intrigue written on her face. You quickly shut her down, not wanting to start the spread of another rumour in the hospital,

"No?! I don't know! I don't think so. No."

You sat in silence for a while until Arizona opened her mouth, "Well, I think it would be best if you just rip the band-aid off tomorrow. I don't think she'd appreciate finding out you avoided her for as long as you could. It's probably going to be awkward either way."

You nodded softly, knowing Arizona was right, "Will you help me?"

"Pfff, of course! I got your back." She smiled at you as she drove out of the car park.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

You kept yourself busy by alternating between buttoning and unbuttoning your lab coat and fixing your hair, wanting to look presentable since Teddy hadn't seen you in years. It was silly, how you hadn't been able to let go of the nervous habits you had whenever you'd be around her. But the worry Teddy would be disappointed to see you again made it worse this time.

"Stop that, you look great." Arizona smiled encouragingly and fixed your collar as you started to play with your fingers instead, needing something to try and keep your nerves under control.

"Ready?" She asked you as she stopped in front of the room Teddy had paged her to. You gave her a curt nod and took in a breath as she opened the door, revealing Teddy who was looking at the whiteboard in front of her.

"Doctor Altman, I brought a resident who's gonna help me with this case. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all! I went ahead and-" She stopped midsentence when she turned around, her eyes locking with yours. Sure, you had changed over the years, but you knew Teddy would recognize you in an instant.

"(Y/N)?" She breathed out, her face going from confusion to shock to excitement in just a few seconds.

"Oh my God, it's really you?" She walked up to you, her arms open to welcome you in a hug. Teddy let out an awkward chuckle as she noticed you didn't move a muscle, but she slowly and unsurely wrapped her arms around you when you took a hesitant step forward.

"It's so good to see you again! How- I- What?!" She smiled and rubbed her cheeks, trying to wrap her head around the fact you were standing in front of her, and trying to stop herself from panicking. "You left New York? When? You're a resident now!?"

"It's been years, a lot can happen." You squeezed your fingers behind your back, realising how harsh it sounded, no matter how much she deserved the cold shoulder. You just wanted to get this over with.

Teddy's smile faltered, but only momentarily, before her eyes filled with glee again, "So- what's happening? What's new? How did you get here? Are you.... third year? Or-"

"I love this little reunion but maybe it's best we focus on the surgery now...We've got little time." Arizona butted in with an apologetic smile, seeing you needed a breather.

"Yes! Of course, apologies." Teddy turned back to you, her face unreadable, but her gut wrenched with the guilt she suddenly felt. Your eyes said it all.

"We...um, should catch up later." She spoke before she quickly turned to face the whiteboard again, muttering something under her breath, hoping to be able to mask her panic in the next few hours of you two working together.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

"Go!" Arizona mumbled out, bumping your hip when you stopped, seeing she was gesturing to Teddy waiting in line. "Go break the ice!"

"I thought I already did that this morning?!" You whisper-yelled back but was pushed forward by your friend.

"Oh- hi!" You shot her a wry smile, albeit awkwardly, as Teddy turned around. "Want to...um... eat lunch outside with me? Catch up? It snowed last night and uh, I know you used to love-"

But you stopped as you saw Teddy nod and smile, "I'd like that."

"So, Seattle, huh?" Teddy started once you had found a vacant bench outside the hospital. "I thought you said you could never see yourself leaving New York?"

"Yeah, well, I got the opportunity to do my residency here... I wanted to start fresh, and New York isn't what it's been after-" You stopped, noticing how Teddy tensed. She took her time eating her sandwich, stalling an answer before she eventually had to speak.

"It's good to see you ended up where you wanted to be. Seems like all those times I helped you study for med school weren't in vain." She smiled with her eyes as she took another quick bite of her lunch. She tried so hard to read your energy, but you seemed closed off.

"Don't get me wrong, I loved being an EMT, but this is good. This is great. I'm happy now. This is the right path for me."

Teddy gave you a soft smile as she truly took you in for the first time, daring to stare at your side profile now that you were focused on your own lunch. You wore your hair differently now, your face looked a bit more mature and you also seemed more reserved, but maybe that just had to do with the awkward tension still floating between you two. Your eyes though, still gave her the same comfort, even if she had lost the ability to read them, apparently.

"What's it going to be? You got your eyes set on a specialty already?"

You nodded while taking a sip of your drink, "Cardio or peds... though I sometimes like to dabble in neuro."

Teddy let out a breathy chuckle, "Ha! Knew it! I recognized the light in your eyes every time I helped you study cardio cases."

"Well, you made it fun. It was hard not to like it by the way you explained it. You seemed passionate about it so of course, I would try to feel the same way."

She nodded to herself, the corner of her lip curling up slightly before she changed the subject, "Where were you on Monday? Doctor Robbins and I did an alcapa surgery together, you would have loved that. Would have been the perfect match for you."

"Oh, um, I don't know, I think I was helping in the pit all day? It was a busy day." Deciding to change the subject once more, you opened your mouth again, "Where did you end up? You left but never said anything, I was worried for weeks until I eventually had to let it go."

Teddy stopped and put her lunch down, "I joined the army..." she watched closely as you raised your eyebrows in surprise, "Almost immediately after... That's were I met Hunt and that's how I got here."

You nodded softly, trying to put it all into place in your head. She obviously gave you the short explanation, as she had left out years of details. But you figured she did so for a reason, and you respected her decision.

"Wasn't I worth a goodbye though?" You chuckled dryly, half joking, half serious.

"God- no, I mean yes! Of course! You deserved an explanation, that's on me, I just... had to go. I couldn't breathe. I hadn't been in a right state of mind for a while, especially after my parents passed away... and then Allison..."

You put your hand on her leg, "Teddy, it's alright, you don't have to explain further. Sorry... I just- All I actually needed to know was if you were still alive. I was dying inside not knowing if you were alright-" You bit the insides of your cheek as Teddy's hand was placed over yours. She sighed and looked out in front of her, her fingers tangling with yours as she squeezed your hand.

"I am so sorry. You deserved a proper farewell."

You nodded, agreeing, but decided to stay silent, sensing that Teddy already knew how bad she had messed up.

"So um, are you staying here? This is not a temporary thing?"

She squeezed your hand again, just to reassure you, even if she felt tortured by all the lost memories and feelings resurfacing,

"Yeah, I plan on staying." She cleared her throat, "Which is why I'm glad we worked this out right now? I mean, we're good, right?"

Thoughts circled through your head while you felt your chest tighten. Having to be around Teddy again would be a challenge, especially seeing how you left things. But you could manage. You were a surgical resident, for heaven's sake, and you were not going to let an old friend from the past ruin anything.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

[thatfanficstuff]

Make Me Forget (Part 2a) - Elijah Mikaelson

Pairing: Elijah x reader

Warnings: mention of death. bit angsty maybe.

A/N: This is the first of two possible endings for this imagine it also serves as #9 for celebration summer. The prompt is in bold below.

wc: 1419

***

You grew weary of life in Mystic Falls. And then one day there came a knock on your door and an envelope on your doorstep. Upon opening it, you discovered the information for a bank account in your name with more zeros than you thought you’d ever see. Enjoy and live your life, the letter said.

So, you did. You traveled to all the places you wanted to see, hoping along the way you’d find somewhere new to settle down. But everywhere you stopped, you felt something missing. Despite all the beautiful things you’d seen, you were never happy anywhere for very long.

Currently, you were in Prague. As you walked, you had no agenda, simply taking in the beauty of the city around you. That’s why it was so easy for you to spot the man that had been following you for most of the morning. Of course, the fact that he was gorgeous and wore a well-tailored suit made him stand out from those around him.

You rounded a corner and leaned against the wall as you waited for him to follow. When he stepped into view, you straightened and fell into step beside him. “Is there a reason you’re stalking me?”

His steps faltered for the briefest of moments. “Pardon?”

“You’ve been following me all day. Want to tell me why?” you insisted. You weren’t buying his innocent act in the least.

He stopped then and turned to face you as he moved to the side away from the foot traffic. “I assure you that you are mistaken. Any proximity to you was purely coincidental.”

You placed your hands in your pockets and nodded once. “Oh, I see. I thought maybe you were here to compel my memory to return. My mistake,” you said before resuming your walk down the street.

Elijah hesitated briefly before following. “You know who I am?”

The corner of your mouth curled up. “Elijah Mikaelson. The suited Original. The oldest surviving brother of the Mikaelson family. Asshole of the first order. Did I forget anything?”

“Several things in fact, but first I must know how your memory was restored. My siblings assured me that they had not seen you since you left New Orleans.”

You hummed to let him know you heard. As you passed a small pub, you opened the door and gestured him inside. “I’m hungry.”

He studied you for a moment then headed inside. The two of you claimed a table in the corner. You ordered guláš and a lager. Elijah followed suit. “I get the impression that you are avoiding answering my question concerning your memory.”

You shrugged. “Honestly, as old as you are, I thought you’d be more observant.”

His gaze ran over you again as you took a bite of your goulash. “You’ve turned.” His voice was low but you caught his words along with the devastated undertone. “What happened?”

“I was in San Francisco, about a year after New Orleans. Met a guy at a bar. When we got out to the parking lot, he fed from me then gave me blood to heal me. He’d no sooner finished than some asshole with a gun tried to mug us. Luke attacked the guy but the gun went off. Right through the jugular.” You leaned back in your seat ignoring the sheen in Elijah’s eyes. “When I woke up, I was in transition and I remembered everything. And wasn’t that a bitch?”

“Why did you not return to us? We would have helped you,” he asked.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You pushed your plate away so you could lean on the table as you stared down the Original asshole. “I was so broken I asked my best friend to make me forget him and his entire family. And he loved me enough to do it. You did that, Elijah.”

“It was never my intention to—”

You barked out a laugh. “I don’t give a shit what your intention was, Elijah. I trusted you. I believed you when you told me you loved me. My entire life was wrapped up in yours then you left. And when I reached out, you told me I wasn’t wanted. Maybe I was naïve but I had thought I would spend my forever with you.”

“Of course, you were wanted,” he snapped, drawing the attention of a nearby table. He took a beat to compose himself. “Let us discuss this elsewhere.”

When you just stared at him without responding, his face softened. “Please. Just let me say what I need to say then I will leave you alone forever if you wish it.”

“Fine. My hotel is around the corner.” The two of you were silent as he followed you to your hotel and up to your expensive suite. You poured the two of you a glass of bourbon that you’d bought the day before. You handed him the glass and gestured toward the seating area. “Talk.”

You sat on the sofa and he took the chair beside you, angling himself so he was facing you. “I meant every word I said to you during our relationship. I have never felt for anyone the way that I feel for you.”

He paused, but if he was looking for a reaction, you weren’t going to give him one. You didn’t believe a word he was saying, but you’d let him say it so you could spend an eternity without him. Why did that thought hurt so bad?

“When you arrived in New Orleans, there was a brief moment where I felt whole for the first time since I’d left you behind. Then I saw your injury. To me it was only proof that knowing my family was dangerous. You would not have been in that city if not for us and you no sooner arrive then you are injured. By a vampire nonetheless.” He stood and raked a hand through his hair as he began to pace the floor. It was unusual to see Elijah unsettled. You followed him with your eyes as you waited to see what else he had to say.

“Niklaus was furious with me when I turned you away. We fought worse than we had in centuries. Then Kol interrupted to tell us that he had compelled you. That you didn’t remember any of us. My heartbreak was absolute.” He knelt in front of you and took your hand in his as a tear ran down his cheek. “I had only intended to make you angry enough to want to leave because if you had given me the barest of resistance at that point I would have caved. I would have taken you in my arms and never let you go. But you needed to be safe. I needed you to live.”

“How’d that work out for you?” You pulled your hand away from him and stood to walk over to the window. “You can’t protect me from the world, Elijah. Maybe a witch casts a spell on me in New Orleans or some asshole with a gun shoots me in the throat in San Francisco. It’s just the way it is. All I wanted was to love you and be loved in return. I’m sorry that didn’t work out.”

He came to stand behind you, but you kept your gaze out the window. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. God knows I don’t deserve it. But you need to know that there has never been a moment that I didn’t want you. That I won’t need you. I will love you with everything that I am for an eternity.”

Oh, didn’t that make your heart ache. You longed to be back in his arms. To sleep beside him. To see the world with him. To just be with him, regardless of anything else going on in the world. But this man had the power to utterly destroy you. He’d done it once and you weren’t sure you’d survive it a second time. Could you trust him not to break you?

“I’ll leave you.” He moved away from you toward the door.

“Elijah,” you said, stopping him.

“Yes?”

“I was thinking of going to the National Museum tomorrow. Ten-ish.”

There was a beat of silence. “I’ll call for you at nine. We’ll get breakfast.” His voice was rough and the emotion in it made you smile.

You hoped this didn’t come back to bite you in the ass. “It’s a date.”

[twelfth-harbinger]

Hello, I hope you're doing great! ^^ Could I request a Kaeya x male Reader, where the reader is a thief and Kaeya cathes him and teaches him a lesson (nsfw)

A/n: I live for this shit. This is...kind of kinky so.. & I wrote this at 4am. Listening to: Throat babyyyyyy

Mentions: Blowjobs, Denial, Teasing... blowjobs.

Warnings: Nsfw Face fucking at its finest, A very dominant Kaeya.

The King of Thieves

Kaeya left Angel’s Share for the night. Dark cheeks tinted a dusty deep red from a night of indulgence. Diluc was there, tending the bar coincidentally.

“There have been a plethora of incidents revolving around thieves as of late. I suggest you be mindful when leaving for the night Kaeya.”

His younger brother’s light warning drifted back into the depths of his mind as he strolled the nearly vacant streets of Monstadt’s city. Of course, on his way back to headquarters; the Knight took the long way around. Cutting through a specific alleyway that lead to a patch of grassy plains above a stone stair case. Out the corner of his eye he saw a shadow zip by and over the short roof top of someone’s home. As he moved to take a precautionary step backwards the shadow figure landed behind him. Assuming Kaeya was drunk enough to one up, the figure moved in to grab Kaeya’s shoulder in efforts to flip him onto his back and steal his vision. Kaeya, in a rebuttal too quick for this thief’s skill set. Side stepped and ducked, only to elbow his assailant in the chest cavity and then reappear behind them with his sword drawn.

“Why is Diluc always right?” Kaeya sighed, a frown on his face as he stared at the person in front of him, whom he had knocked the wind right out of. He wasn’t sure who the person was, given they were covered from head fo toe in all black. When Kaeya saw that they were recovering he twirled his sword, knocking them unconscious with the hilt of his blade. When the thief dropped, Kaeya looked down at them. He moved to uncover their face and saw a young man. He saw, you? His eye went wide, you were not much older than Diluc. The young Knight couldn’t help but think it was a shame to see such wasted potential resort to something of a scoundrel at best. He threw your arm over his shoulder, picking you up with a deep exhale. Effortlessly carrying you off back to one of the empty confinement cells within the knights headquarters. The one he picked out had been out of use for quite some time, given Klee had blown it up rendering the cell unlivable (for her). — It was a perfect place for a thief, especially one that tried to steal his vision.

Kaeya sat on the edge of a small table in the corner of the room, arms crossed and a light frown on his face. He waited until you had come through and regained consciousness. In a panic, your dark eyes darted across the room. Something Kaeya found quite amusing.

“Where..am I?” You huffed out, there was a draft in the room and you visibly shivered. Kaeya stayed seated looking at you.

“In the Knights of Favonius’ HQ, a confinement cell to be more precise.” He replied nonchalantly and as you tried to move, chains rattled against your wrists and ankles.

“Let me out of here, else you’ll be sorry—“

You were cut off by Kaeya’s abrupt laugh, it made you frown and your brow crease. “What’s so fuckin’ funny?” Kaeya’s chuckle faded into a sigh, his finger tapping idly on the bicep of his crossed arms.

“Nothing, it’s just you are in no position to talk. In fact, I bet if I did away with you right here I could get away with it.” His smile may have been playful but his eye hinted at something much darker.

“You.. can’t do that, you’re an honor bound knight it would be a disgrace—“ Kaeya smiled, this time it wasn’t playful but it still held amusement.

“Relax I’m not a barbarian. Why don’t you tell me why you tried to rob me in the middle of an alleyway and most interestingly... try to take my vision.” After Kaeya stated his questions there was a stagnant silence that sat in the stale air of the confinement cell. Kaeya looked down at you, who shifted uncomfortably. “Oh? No answer? Are you sure that’s what you wish to do?” Your eyes drifted over to look up at Kaeya. Who moved from his spot on the table to walk towards you. In the dim light of the cell his features illuminated, it may have been the full moon that peeked through the barred window that made him look so appealing. The sound of his boots tapping down on the stone floors of the cell sent a slight chill down your spine. He towered over you as you sat on the floor. A light smirk threatened the corner of his lips, as he stared down at you with a quizzical eye. The air around him was cool and it seemed to get even colder as he knelt down to eye level. “I think I’ll give you until the count of say- three.” He held up three fingers before putting them down.

“What?”

“One.” He moved his hand behind your head almost as if he was cradling you. Unbeknownst to you his sword appeared in his palm. Your side profile reflected off the blade as it drew near your head. “Two.” His voice was deep and melodic and his tone evermore serious as he counted down. He wasn’t smiling anymore, seeing him this serious started giving you second thoughts about keeping your mouth shut. He was so close you could smell him, eye half lidded as he stared down at you and a crease in his brow. Against the back of your neck your hair brushed against the blade that dangerously kissed the skin of the nape of your neck. He leaned in and as he drew near, a light grin forming at his lips. Was he enjoying the reaction he was getting out of you? Or the interrogation process? Your hand pressed against his chest to try and move him back you couldn’t stand to have him that close. He paused for a split second, his eye dropping down to your hand, it was warm. “Thre-“

“Wait!” You say, your dark eyes shifting up to peer into his. Staring at him this closely, being able to smell him. It was hard not to think about the things you wanted him to do to you while sitting helpless on the cell floor. He was ridiculously attractive and equally as intimidating when he wished to be.

“Hm? Did you change your mind?” He asked, flashing a cold smile. Your cheeks flushed, he smelled like the first snow fall of winter, shamelessly it made blood rush to where you didn’t need it to. His eyes drifted down briefly before he looked at you more closely. “Or maybe you didn’t?” He purred lightly and a smile crossed his face again.

“I-I..I was just.. curious as to what it’s like to have a vision I don’t have one.” You spoke out, Kaeya didn’t sense a lie from you. Even as you continued to try and make him feel sorry for you. “I haven’t been blessed by the Archons. I’m poor and I...I can’t do much of anything let alone use a vision. Being a thief is all I’ve ever known. The only way I know to survive. I wasn’t going to hurt you.” His brow creased as you babbled that last part, you caught yourself and spoke sheepishly. “Not..that I could’ve anyway—“ Kaeya laughed again, he moved back but not very far. His sword disappeared in one swift movement and he took a minute to look at you. Your hands moved over to your lap, you didn’t think he noticed.

“What am I going to do with you hm?” He pondered aloud as he stood up, a hand resting on his hip. He stared down at you, “You assaulted me in an alleyway, tried to rob me and now..” You couldn’t help but think it wasn’t much of an assault, you were the one who got hit square in the chest and knocked unconscious after all.

“Kaeya-“

“And you know who I am? You’re quite the bold thief. Tell me if I let you go, how do I know you won’t do it again?” You shifted uncomfortably, nothing he was saying was arousing but, truthfully you fell victim to his charm the moment he began questioning you, not to mention the count down and intimidation attempt. Kaeya noticed, he was quite observant but he was doing his job- for the most part.

“I won’t.” You lied, he saw right through it. Kaeya crossed his arms again, if he felt any remorse for you before it was gone now. You avoided eye contact with him even as he stared down at you.

“Do you like being chained up in a cell, you’re excited.” He asked genuinely, his voice was soft and curious. It made you twitch uncomfortably. You shook your head and Kaeya tilted his. “Really? Your as hard as this stone floor, I wasn’t going to tease you about it but it only...fed into every words I’ve said to you thus far.” You could hear him smile, you made the mistake of looking up at him. He was gorgeous and the blush that crossed your face made his smile widen.

“I..can’t help how you’re making me feel. You’re just-“

“I’m just what?” He cut you off, moving his hand to rest on the top of your head. He gently ran his fingers through your hair with his gloved palm. Idly moving his hand down to the back of your head before gripping the ends of your hair between his fingers. “Were you going to say charming? Sexy, hot?” He asked, his grip on your hair wasn’t that tight or painful it aroused a light whimper to fall from your lips. Kaeya noticed your hand palming your growing erection — your pants were growing tighter you couldn’t help it. With his boot he kicked your hand away and stepped on the back of your hand, causing the restraints he had you in to rattle against the stone floor. “You did something bad why should you gain pleasure after committing a crime? As I see it I’m the victim here. You assaulted me in an alleyway.” His grin was wide and with his free hand he moved to unzip his pants. Immediately your mouth began to water as he slipped his hand inside to touch himself right before your very eyes.

“I-I won’t do it again..” You lied once again and he saw through it yet again. His grin only widened, he was going to enjoy this.

“I don’t believe you, therefore...” His grip tightened in your hair and he pulled your head back. “I think I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget.” The weight he had on your hand increased when he saw you try to move your other hand to slip inside your own pants, it was a warning not to try and relieve yourself. You moved your hand away with a whine as Kaeya freed himself from the tight confines of his trousers. His thick member prodded against your cheek before he let it rest on your lips. He let out a light and playful hum as he stared down at you, almost as if he was beckoning you to open your mouth.

“Kaeya I-“ As soon as you opened your mouth he pushed himself inside, the taste of his pre made you shudder and your eyes flutter. He held your hair and head firmly in place as he thrusted deeper into your mouth. He was genuinely surprised that you were able to take him all the way to the back of your throat.

“It’s not polite to speak with your mouth full.” He teased. “Go on, keep stuffing your face thief.” As you struggled to swallow his cock, you couldn’t stop your hand from reaching down to palm the hard tent in your pants. Kaeya caught wind of your actions and knocked your forearm to the side with his other boot. The deep groan you let out reverberated against his shaft, Kaeya had to bite back his own moan as he pulled your hair again which inevitably moved your head back so your lips wrapped around his tip. “If you do it again you’ll regret it.” He wasn’t smiling when he spoke, it was a threat you weren’t going to see through to the end. Kaeya chuckled lightly and moved his free hand down to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing sweetly against your cheekbone. “You’re so obedient...”

He mumbled, his touch was gentle as he moved his hands up to tangle in your hair. It was almost too gentle and had you questioning his motives. You made eye contact with him and a sly grin spread across his face like wildfire. Without warning his grip tightened to hold your head in place. He slammed hips against your face, bottoming out completely in the back of your tight throat. He groaned out quietly and under his breath, as the ridges of your throat and mouth constricted against his thick shaft. Your soft lips tickled the underside of the base of his cock. His pants sagged and his balls pressed against the stubble of your chin, which only edged him on and reflexively urged his hips to thrust against your face. He exhaled with a light chuckle that sifted through the quiet air of the confinement cell.

You whimpered, drooling all over his cock as you squeezed your eyes shut, it took everything in you not to milk and pump your shaft. Your balls were heavy and full and you ached for a release that you didn’t think you’d get. Kaeya looked down on you to subconsciously check to see if you were okay and to see the sight of his dick disappearing down your throat. He pulled back by a few centimeters and you successfully breathed in through your nose. The taste of his pre on your tongue reminded you of a fermented apple wine. None too surprising to say the least and all the more enjoyable.

Kaeya rutted into your mouth again, you choked and he chuckled. He felt your tongue swirl around his shaft against a prominent vein that curved up from the base of his cock. Your leg twitched in need as he moved, beginning a rough and steady rhythm. He noticed the bulge in your throat, it only made him move faster. Kaeya let out deep exhale and a light moan that was simply music to your ears. His head tilted back as you took him, he glanced down at you for a moment and his lips curled into a smile seeing you hard at work.

“If your mouth is this tight, I wonder how your ass must feel.” He teased you, moving one hand down to wipe away that inevitable tears that formed in your eyes. His other hand loosened in your hair but still rested in place idly. He pulled back completely, giving you a chance to breathe. As you caught your breath Kaeya looked down at you, the blush that stained your cheeks inflated his ego a bit. He arched a brow, waiting for you to keep going.

You gave into that cute, suggestive stare and moved your hand up to stroke him; something you wanted to do for yourself since he started fucking talking. You dragged your tongue along the thick length of his member before taking him into your mouth. What you didn’t choke down, you pumped with your hand. Kaeya finally let out a proper moan it was deep and breathy, he started throbbing in your mouth and palm; biting down on his lower lip in ecstasy. In the midst of milking him dry he took hold of your hair again, only to push himself right back down your throat, he needed that tight fit to finish him off. You were going to swallow it all, not that you minded; he was as inebriating as Everclear. As he filled your throat and mouth, he pulled back his warm cum dripping down your chin. He watched you reach up to wipe it away and lick the back of your hand.

His eye drifted down to your continually throbbing erection, he noticed a dark spot where your own pre had ruined your trousers. He stepped back and moved his hand away from your hair, shifting as he pulled his pants up only to zip them up. Your expression was absolutely priceless in his eyes. You opened your mouth to speak to find that your jaw was already sore from his earlier actions. Kaeya moved to sit on the edge of the table again with a light smile on his face.

“What?” He says like he didn’t just pump his seed down your throat. He made an ‘O’ with his mouth as he looked at your disheveled and needy appearance as if he had forgotten. He didn’t. He moved to toss you a key to the restraints you were in. “You’re free to go and...do something about that.” He smiled with a teasing glint in his eye, you looked at the key in front of you. Picking it up with a frown on your face as your freed yourself. “I told you I’d teach you lesson you wouldn’t forget.” He chuckled moving to cross his arms over his chest. You looked at him and he smirked.

“Asshole.” You mumbled, moving to stand up, Kaeya looked your way not feeling remorseful in the slightest.

“You do realize you tried to assault me and steal my vision. I think I let you off rather easy if you ask me. Going straight to Jean just didn’t feel right.” He quipped, and stood to walk over to the door opening it up for you to go. “I don’t want to see you here again, I’d rather the Cat’s Tail or Angel share preferably. Maybe then you’d get a proper..reward and the aftercare I so graciously give to those who listen.” He said, completely insinuating he wanted to see you again under the right circumstances. With a pout you exited the cell, there wasn’t really much you could say to that. You were indeed happy you didn’t have to spend the night in a dingy unlivable cell. Kaeya leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms. “Till we meet again King of Thieves.”

Bonus

A week went by, you were at Sara’s sitting down to a late night meal before heading off to Springvale for a few days to visit family. You poked at the fisherman’s toast you ordered, thinking about the Knight who left you thoroughly frustrated. You wanted to beat his ass in all honesty but, apart of you just wanted to—

“Well if it isn’t The King of Thieves.”

[sunlightheidi]

Jihyun Kim "V" x Reader/MC

AU Fantasy, written for the Mystic Dance Event, hosted by the lovely @little-butterfly-writes. Roles provided, "Princess x Court Painter".

"I'll meet you in the forest, let's let this wild thing grow."

- Forest, Fancy Hagood

Jihyun was chosen from a neighboring kingdom to paint the royal family.

It was an honor, to be selected as the court artist; for his art to hang on the palace walls alongside portraits of previous kings and queens.

There are countless tales told throughout the kingdoms; stories of the ruthless king who commanded the armies, of the regal queen who could turn men into stone with a simple look.

And of the stoic crowned princess, who possessed the ethereal beauty of the fae, and the same coldness too.

He’s painted that captivating beauty on canvas more than once; has traced the dip of your collarbone, the fullness of your lips, the almond shape of your eyes with his paintbrush so many times he can do it from memory alone.

You are always seated on that golden throne when he does, decorated in sapphires and dressed in layers of silk and lace – always watching him with a sort of fascination as he paints, a sparkling wonder in your gaze.

You sit on that throne now, your head held high, waves of black hair falling down your back, and a crown of rowan berries on your brow. Your dress is golden, accentuating the sun-touched colors of your skin and the darkness of your eyes as they roam over the ballroom to the people dancing and celebrating the return of autumn.

There is a sort of hypnotic magic about you and he sees it perfectly then, how you truly could have been fairy in a past life; sparkling wings on your back, adorned in colors of orange and red and yellow as you sat on a throne of marigolds and ruled over the autumn court.

Perhaps you may have even allowed yourself to dance amongst your folk, lost in the addicting taste of pomegranates as you moved freely to the wild music.

But that is not who you are now. Not who are you expected to be.

You do not partake in the autumn celebration with your people, you are not allowed to laugh and dance in the way he knows you desire to. In the way you have so freely danced and laughed by his side in hidden corridors.

Your only purpose is to serve your kingdom, and outside of your clandestine meetings with him, you play your role flawlessly. No one would dare suggest otherwise.

If only they knew the restlessness that lingers in your heart. The same kind and wild heart you have given to him– a secret belonging to you both alone.

The music ends and you clap gently in your lap, almost unconsciously, as most of your mannerisms are – but your eyes are dazed, he knows your thoughts are elsewhere.

He has been hounded by daydreams of you as well, wishes he could stand in front of that throne and take your hand as an equal; to lead you to the ballroom floor and hold you in his arms as you sway together, just as you have done many times before in the dark.

The orchestra begins to play a new piece, something slow and soft that echoes through the ballroom; the chandeliers shimmer from the high ceiling as partners retake their place and begin a new dance.

Carefully, as to not draw attention to yourself, you stand, hands gripping the skirts of your dress as you curtsey to the king and queen, who briefly nod in your direction in permission to take your leave. He follows you with his eyes as you walk down the steps of the podium and to the large entryway, but something catches his attention – a golden satin ribbon, left behind on the seat of your throne.

You have played this game before, he knows what the token means; and when he looks up, in a single moment that freezes time, you look over your shoulder and meet his gaze. He nods in understanding, and there’s a sparkle in your eye as you close the doors behind you.

He wants to run after you, to spin you around in his arms and declare his fidelity to you in front of the world. But you are a princess…and he is only the court painter – the consequences should anyone discover you two together, of the things you have done under secrecy, would end in tragedy.

So he waits, and when the kingsmen turn to assist their majesties to the ballroom floor, Jihyun slips through the entryway and weaves down dark corridors and forgotten doors.

He is lost in a haze to get to you, has waited eagerly for weeks to spend time with you, and not the person you pretend to be for everyone else. He wants your silly laughter and teasing smiles, your fondness for flowers and furry forest creatures.

In an unlit corner of an unused passageway, there is a door that blends into the stone of the walls, it is not easily seen in the dark, but Jihyun knows exactly where it is and how to twist the lock to the room that has become his haven.

He steps through the low archway and closes the door behind him, feels a sort of relief when he turns to find you watching him.

It is indescribable, how painfully beautiful you are illuminated by the candlelight – woven in golden and waiting for him.

He bows, deeply. “Princess.”

And then, the respectable haze you have found yourselves in for weeks vanishes.

In an instant, you wrench yourself forward into him, tackling him into something fierce. He grasps you, cradling you safely in his arms as you wiggle in your happiness.

“Jihyun,” you whisper against his chest, nose buried in the hilt of his tailcoat. “I was afraid you would not come.”

He pushes you back, enough to look into your eyes and trace the outline of your cheekbone with his thumb. “Of course I came. I cannot deny you a single thing, nor do I wish to.”

“I did not think I would have the time to slip by their attention tonight, I am eternally grateful their minds are elsewhere.”

“Do you need to get back?” he asks, wrapping his arms around your waist; already dreading having to part.

“Not yet, not so soon.” You reach for him, stand on the tip of your toes and brush your lips against his in the softest of kisses. “I have missed you terribly.”

“As have I, darling,” he whispers against your mouth. “I have to stop myself constantly from reaching for you in the hallways.”

An impish smile graces your lips, sly and conniving. He imagines this must be how the fae tempt humans into their world.

“You are certainly free to touch me now, in whatever way you desire.”

He catches up quickly, as he tightens the hold on your waist and brings his lips to yours – warm breath and honey taste – soft and slow, memorizing every part of this moment.

He rubs small circles on your back just above your waist, feeling the silky material of your dress as you put your arms around his neck, bringing him in as close as you possibly can. And when you pull back to catch your breath, you smile at him slyly, all hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, bottom lip between your teeth.

“Pray tell, you wicked thing. What enchantment have you placed on me?”

A soft laugh, no more than an exhale, ghosts across the side of his neck, raising goosebumps across his skin. You stand so close he can smell the sweetness of the roses pressed onto your skin, the floral scent instantly hauling him back to an afternoon in the court gardens, where you hid behind large rose bushes and he pressed you against the grass and kissed you until sundown.

“It was the pomegranate seeds I fed to you in the garden” you whisper, playfully. “It was faerie food, meant to entrap you to my side for the rest of your days.”

“You could have simply asked me,” he replies. “My answer would have been yes.”

Your eyes go soft, but sparkle suddenly in the way they do when you decide to be cheeky. “But that would be a waste of a perfectly ripe pomegranate, do you not agree?”

He bites at the pout of your lip in reprimand, feeling satisfied with the redness there when he pulls back. “Do you truly have a response for everything?”

“I thought you liked my mouth,” you say, just a fraction shy and very much teasing as your hands wonder down his chest.

“I do, it’s perfectly sweet.” His hand firmly cradles your chin and he leans in until your breath is upon his lips. “Do not divert, my dove. Will you share with me what has been on your mind tonight? You have been on a cloud all evening.”

Your eyes open in surprise, but smile softly at him as he holds your face between his hands. His thumb traces your berry lips and your eyes flutter shut in resignation.

“I have tried, for a very long time, to find dignity in my role.” He notes the softness of your voice, mixed in with the bitter resentment he’s only caught glimpses of before. When your eyes flutter open, there is sadness. “I have found nothing, and I am tired of it all. I do not know who I am beyond what I’m told to be, and I do not care for it any longer. I wish to please only you.”

Your eyes are suddenly and incredibly soft as they hold onto his, your fingertips tracing his hipbones, moving up his abdomen. He brushes a gentle stroke of his lip against yours, flashing loving eyes as if to say what neither of you has found the courage to admit yet.

“You have shone light upon my dreams, Jihyun. But there is no room for you in my life, and you deserve to be with someone that will not be a threat to your own.”

He is hardly ever angry; he finds he does not care much for such emotions. But in this moment, he feels an inexplicable sadness and fear that you will disappear before he has the chance to tell you how truly his life belongs to you.

“Should you wish to end things with me, I will retreat immediately without a word and pretend nothing has happened. But do not make decisions for me. I wish to be with you, in whatever manner possible. If these meetings are all that I will ever have, then I will have this over nothing.”

Light laughter erupts from your throat and you quickly slip one hand from his chest to muffle the unexpected sound. Tears spring from your eyes at last, a blend of humor and grief.

“I wish I could kiss you and make you king.”

He gently takes hold of your soft hands, engulfing them in his calloused ones. He notices the pleasant shiver that runs up your spine at the intimate gesture.

“I do not want to be king, I just want to be with you,” he admits.

You are quiet for a long time, contemplative. He brushes tendrils of your hair off your shoulder, feels your collarbones beneath his fingertips.

“We are in love, aren’t we?” You whisper, and there’s a sort of hesitancy there, as if you have only just realized what this could mean for both of you – the inevitable heartbreak that is destined.

From the very moment your worlds collided – he knew he would fall in love with you. And as he has come to know you – eyes alive like wildflowers and smiles that carry sunshine – he dreams of nothing more than to meet his fate by your side.

“I love you, with everything that I possess.”

“Then run away with me,” you plead, putting yourself nose to nose with him, his blue wisps of hair against your forehead. “Let’s go to another land. Somewhere far away where we can be close to an ocean and have a garden of roses.”

“Your father will send kingsmen after us,” he warns quietly, stoic beneath your hands, hesitant to reciprocate. “He will not be merciful.”

You shake your head fiercely, speak one last offer of clarity. “My father cares not for what may happen to me, he never has. He has two more children he can crown.”

“If you are sure about this, I believe King Han may grant us sanctuary should we reach his borders. I have known him since we were children, and Jumin can be ruthless, but he is fair. Though I must warn you, once we reach his castle, your title will be stripped.”

“I do not want to be a princess, I just want you,” you whisper and lean into him, press a breeze of a kiss to the corner of his mouth, another against his jawline. “Promise you will meet me at midnight, out in the forest.”

The sweetness of you has long burned away his fear, and in its place a mellow kind of anticipation has taken hold. He takes your hand in his and brings it up to his lips.

“As you wish,” he mumbles against your palm and you giggle joyfully before you throw your arms around his neck.

And for everything he believes in, your face is as precious as all the jewels and gemstones of any kingdom; it is the smile you grace him with upon his yes, shining with the power of a thousand suns, that confirm he has found the world’s greatest fortune.

[writeforfandoms]

Merry Go Round of Life

Find my masterlist

Okay. This is a Howl’s Moving Castle AU. It’s going to be a mix of both the book and the movie because I adore both of them equally and for different reasons. 

Also, no Din yet in this chapter. Sorry not sorry. 

This will end up as Din Djarin x f!reader. At some point down the line.

Warnings: Uh. None? Light swearing maybe?

Chapter one: In which a curse is laid

In the land of Concordia, things such as three-league boots existed. Witches and wizards wandered the land. And, if rumors are to be believed, the moving castle has once again started coming down the hills towards Kalevala. 

But you weren’t worried. Nobody had actually seen the wizard out and about. Nobody even knew his name, or spoke it. He was only ever the wizard of the moving castle. And nobody had a satisfying explanation for that, either. You’d stopped asking about him years ago. 

You didn’t have time to be gossiping about some wizard, anyhow. Your mother-in-law was retired, and both of your sisters had their own lives, leaving the shop to you. Not that you really minded - you’d been raised in this shop, knew it better than anywhere else. You were content with this. Your sisters visited (indeed, Omera still worked in town, having taken over the bakery when the previous owners retired), the shop was busy enough to keep you busy and fed, and things were… calm. Predictable. 

But really, you couldn’t complain. You were the youngest of three. You didn’t boast great beauty to match Omera, or great temper to match Cara. You were just… you. One of the best seamstresses in town, yes, but just you. And that was fine. That was… fine. 

On this particular morning, you were humming a little as you carefully measured fabric for a dress. This was about the time of year when you were flooded with custom requests for parties and celebrations, and you often ended up taking your work home with you. You had some help in the shop, a young lady to man the front desk and chat with customers, but she was still in training. And you didn’t mind taking work home. 

You tutted gently as you set two pieces of fabric together, checking the edges. “Very good,” you muttered to yourself. “You’ll be a handsome one indeed.” Chuckling at your own humor, you began to stitch the edges together. It wasn’t uncommon to find you chattering to yourself (and your sewing) as you worked. You got bored otherwise. The shop girl stayed out front, and you stayed in the back sewing unless you were needed to take measurements or consult. 

It didn’t take long for you to have the skirt portion of the dress done. At least, done enough for now. You gently set it aside and stretched, rolling your shoulders and cracking your neck before you pulled the fabric over again to make the next cuts. 

“At least the fabric is nice,” you murmured, gently running a hand along the rose-pink fabric to smooth it. “You’ll make a fine dress for the May Day dance.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Your own dress (if you had time for it this year) was already squirreled away in your bedroom, and had been ready for a while. You’d made sure Omera was taken care of, too. Cara was on her own - you didn’t even know if she’d be home for the festival this year. 

You heard the bell over the door of the shop ring, but paid it no mind. Someone would yell if they needed you. Humming again, you picked up your sewing scissors, the nice heavy pair, and started cutting fabric. 

“Hey, Vee.” You could hear the customer from where you sat, but you still didn’t move. Did you sometimes listen to gossip while you worked? Sure. Not your fault they were gossiping in your hearing range. “Have you seen the castle?”

A gasp as your assistant, Vee, caught on to the subject. “No! I haven’t been out to the edge of town.”

“The castle is right out there!” the customer told her in an excited murmur. “You can see it clearly, just over the hill outside of town.”

“So close?” Vee asked in a hushed tone. “What’s he doing?”

“Don’t know,” the customer replied. “Mother thinks he’s looking for someone.”

You snorted very quietly to yourself. He was a wizard. You doubted anyone in Kalevala would hold any interest for someone like him. Not that you’d actually met many (or any) wizards but you’d read plenty about them. And this place? Probably didn’t have anybody of interest to an actual wizard.

“Maybe he’ll come to the festivities,” Vee said dreamily.

“Maybe,” the customer hummed, sounding unconvinced. On this, you sided with her - you doubted seriously the wizard would show up to May Day. Ha! That would be a sight. 

“Silly girls, the both of them,” you murmured to the dress. “But they’re young, I suppose they’re allowed to be silly.” 

It wasn’t long after that when the customer left, and Vee went back to her tasks. You shook your head and refocused on your sewing. If you weren’t interrupted, you could have this dress done in another day. 

Vee left at her normal time, and you closed up the shop. Nobody else had interrupted you, and you let out a sigh of relief once things were locked up tight. You worked for another hour or so by candlelight in the shop, and then carried a couple little things upstairs to work on in your apartment. Your apartment wasn’t much - a bedroom, kitchen/living area combo, and simple bathroom situated above the shop. But it was yours, and you didn’t have to share with anyone.

As much as you loved your sisters, you had been more than ready to strangle them by the time they moved out. 

A glance at the calendar on the wall showed that you had exactly one week left until May Day. Plenty of time to finish the last two dresses, and any last-minute adjustments that came in. You stretched briefly and ambled into the kitchen to make some dinner. 

The week passed as expected. You got your last two gowns done. You fixed and rehemmed and tweaked dresses for other customers. You even dealt with the one near-hysterical woman who came in the day before May Day a wreck because her toddler had ripped off some of the fabric roses on her dress. (That one was not an easy fix, and you gently scolded the dress for giving in to some toddler.) 

May Day was always one of the biggest celebrations of the year, full of flowers and bright colors. You donned your dress, the “closed” sign already hung up in the shop window, and ventured out into the streets. 

Things got more crowded the closer you got to the center of town, and soon you were dodging folks out making merry. You didn’t stop to join any of them, intent on your goal: your sister’s bakery. You’d been craving one of the cream cakes for weeks, and you were determined to get one. 

A group of well-dressed young men stumbled out of a tavern in front of you, and one of them made a teasing comment that you only half paid attention to. You simply looked at him and then away, dismissing him and striding on. Honestly. Boys. 

Finally, you made it to the bakery and (more or less) gently pushed your way inside. Omera was at the counter, handling payments and handing over cakes as fast as she could. She paused for a moment when she saw you before she smiled widely and called your name.

“Do you have a minute?” you shouted back at her over the dull roar inside the shop.

“I can spare one,” she replied, ushering you along the counter until she could lift up a flap for you. Grabbing your hand, she pulled you into the back of the bakery, nabbing a cream cake with her free hand. 

“How many proposals have you had today?” you asked, teasing her gently. She was beautiful, and widowed a few years ago. 

“I stopped counting after five,” she replied primly. “Sit and eat that.”

Grinning, you took the cake and sat down. “The dress looks good on you.”

“You knew it would.” She obligingly twirled for you though, showing off the whole thing. You nodded to yourself. Some of your finest work, probably. You’d be disappointed if the day ended without Omera receiving at least a dozen proposals. “Your dress is a little more plain this year, sister.”

“Hmm.” You stuffed a bite of cake in your mouth to buy yourself a little time. Which might have backfired on you, as Omera raised an eyebrow at you. You grimaced, just a little, and she huffed.

“Are you content to run the shop alone, then?”

“Maybe,” you muttered. “I don’t know. I haven’t--it hasn’t come up, recently.” You shuffled a little where you sat, uncomfortable now. 

Omera softened a little. “You could have just as many proposals, if you wanted,” she reminded you, reaching over to tweak your ear gently. “You needn’t stay at the shop by yourself.” Her smile turned teasing. “I’d even take you on as an apprentice.”

“Apprentice!” you shot back, mock-outraged. “I have spent more than enough time in your kitchen to do better than that!”

“I seem to recall someone eating all the cookie batter one day and getting sick,” she shot back. The two of you collapsed into giggles for a few moments, until someone shouted for Omera. Then she sighed. “That would be the end of my break. I’ll come see you at the shop, okay?”

“Sure,” you agreed, standing and pulling her into a hug.

“Just think about it,” she whispered in your ear. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

You released her and made your way out of the bakery. More revellers filled the streets now, and your feet were trod on more than once as you made your way back home slowly. As night fell, bright blue and green fireworks shot into the air from outside of town, causing a great deal of commotion. Certainly they came from the wizard, but why nobody knew. You didn’t bother yourself overmuch with pondering, either. 

The week after May Day continued quietly. This was to be expected - hardly anyone would need anything except minor alterations and repairs so soon after a holiday. You’d given Vee two weeks off to spend with her family and her intended, and so you were stuck manning the store instead. 

The bell over the door tinkled and you looked up from a pair of socks you were repairing, and then paused. The woman who walked in was… odd. Very, very odd. For one thing, she was carrying a helmet propped against her hip, and she wore armor in blue and gray. Her hair was red and short, pulled back from her face. Her clothing under the armor was dark and nondescript - trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, essentially. 

You blinked at her, nonplussed for a moment, and then stood up straight behind the counter. “Can I help you?” 

“That remains to be seen.” She stepped closer to the counter, giving you a quick once-over. “You are the seamstress who made the dress for the baker? Omera, I believe her name is.”

You blinked again. “Yes.” It wasn’t unheard of for customers to refer to your other work, but it wasn’t exactly common, either.

She hummed acknowledgement of that and looked you over again. You had no idea what she was looking for, but she must not have found it, because she gave you a rather derisive look. “You’ll do.” She murmured something too low for you to hear, although it didn’t sound like Common to your ears, and flung one hand towards you, as if flinging water at you. Something cold dripped down your scalp, and you blinked rapidly at a feeling almost like vertigo. “There. That ought to do it.” She turned away sharply, and paused just before the door. “You won’t be able to tell anyone you’re under a curse, in case you were wondering.” And with that she was gone, out of the shop as quickly as she’d entered it.

[trollishly]

Valkyrie Pt. 5 • Ivar X Reader

A girl shows up bloody and beaten to Kattegat. The Queen and her sons take an interest in the girl, especially Ivar.

Warnings: Gore, Swearing, Mentions of sex, Angst, Anything you'd expect from Vikings

The harsh chilled wind of Kattegate’s forest whipped the the thick furs that laid upon her shoulders. The forest seemed to be alive, as the trees whined and creaked as the gusts only became stronger. Her breathing became heavier as she quickened her pace towards her desired destination, ambitious for what she seeked.

Her eyes light up as they finally fell upon the individual, though she couldn't help but shiver as her feet finally met the front of their seated position. 

“The Queen...“ Slightly bowed the being, words slurring from their twisted lips. “Ancient One,” Quipped Aslaug as she tucked her gown to kneel before him, “you know why I am here, we’ve spoken of this matter before.“ Rushed the Queen in a desperate manner. The Seer let an exasperated grunt, his grotesque tongue running along his lips in thought. “The girl from your vision, you speak of her, you’ve spoken to her.” Hummed the cloak individual, while Aslaug only nodded hoping for him to continue.  

"Well what is it that is troubling you my Queen?" Aslaug rolled her eyes slightly, "I wish to know if my visions are once again correct, or am I mistaken and she is actually a threat to my kingdom?"

"You ask difficult questions, always questioning." He grinned, "However, I shall give you comfort by saying that what you see, is in fact true my Queen." Aslaug let out a breath of relief she hadn't known she was holding, refraining from smiling, which she found herself doing more often as of late. "The gods have blessed us with a great gift..." Croaked the Seer, "A Valkyrie." Spoke the two in unison.

•••

Soft knocks echoed throughout the quaint room, and with nobody acknowledging it, a hush voice followed. "I'm coming in." Spoke Ubbe as he push the door open which dragged along the uneven floor.

There laid Frode, in bed and struggling to inhale evenly. His glazed over eyes drifting to look at the intruder. Ubbe watched as the boy clench his hand firmer around the one that laid upon his, the hand belonging to non other than his sister.

Y/n was slouched against Frode's bed, half her weight on her knees and the other on the edge of the bed. She looked as if she hadn't slept for days, which was half of the truth. If it weren't for Y/n's recent episodes of passing out, she would've been up like usual, her sleep schedule being far from healthy.

"Is she asleep?" Asked Ubbe, stepping further into the room. Frode tried to speak in denial, however, he found himself unable to speak, his voice caught in his throat as another fit of coughs erupted from him. With Frode at a loss, he was not able to warn Ubbe as he reached out to shake his sister awake. Y/n flinched harshly from his touch, rolling away from him and onto her feet. They both stood still, however, Y/n seemed to be on guard due to his presence. Ubbe tilted his head, trying to catch the girl's gaze, but she seemingly refused, not wanting him to see her at her weakest, as her eyes were red and puffy from her night's worth of crying over her brother.

"Sorry to disturb, but my mother asked me to invite you to come eat with us." Ubbe simply said, "I would of sent a thrall, but it seems you've scared them all half to death." Chuckled the man as he refrained from coming any closer.

"No, but thank you." Replied Y/n, turning to tend to her little brother once more. Frode quickly grasped his sister wrist and pulled a pleading face at her. "Y/n, you were never one to deny food, please go. I promise I will be fine." Comforted Frode as he begun to push Y/n away. "You need fresh air, you shouldn't be near me. I am not well," he paused briefly by taking a breath as he tried not to cough, "with you still being injured, it could become deadly if you were to stay near me and get sick." Finished the boy, relieved to see that his persuasion was beginning to work as his sister's frown lessened.

"He'll be fed and watched yes?" Questioned Y/n as she turned to face Ubbe. He nodded reassuring her, "A thrall will tend to your brother's every need."

Y/n began to debate in her head, not for long though, as her thoughts were interrupted by a loud growl that came from her stomach. "Okay." Agreed Y/n begrudgingly, as she came to pushed the hair from Frode's face before leaving the room with Ubbe following closely behind.

•••

"Uh- pardon?" Stuttered Ubbe shaking himself from his trance. Y/n spoke up and repeated herself, "I said, the Queen is very generous. All of you are, you could have left my brother and I to die." Expressed Y/n as she kept her head facing fowards as she walked alongside the prince.

Ubbe blinked down at the girl, inspecting her appearance, which he did more often than he'd like to admit, especially in the little time he was in her presence. "You should thank the Queen, yourself." He said, looking away when he caught himself staring. "She knows something we don't- a-and I trust her enough to follow her blindly. Not only because she is my mother, but because I believe she is fit as ruler." Spoke Ubbe, his tone indicating he said more than what he intended to.

Y/n's forehead creased slightly at the mention of his mother's knowledge of the unknown, but let him be, by keeping silent as they finally made it to the hall.

Bickering could be heard from a table of cluttering cutlery, a whine drawing the attention of Y/n. "Mother. Tell them to stop tormenting me." Mischievously spoke, who Y/n now knew as Ivar, as he held a hand of a thrall, who sat rigid beside him. His head was lolled to the side as he looked pleadingly towards his mother with a pout.

Ubbe walked ahead of the girl, a snort coming from him due to his little brother's banter. This causing everyone's eyes to not only land on Ubbe, but Y/n as well. Ubbe eyed a seat from across the room, rounding the table and sitting besides Hvitserk, who's eyes kept flickering between Ivar and Y/n curiously, as he continued to shove food into his mouth.

At the speed of which Thor would strike his hammer, Ivar shuffled in his seat, removing Margrethe's hand from his lips and dismissing her with just a wave of his arm. Y/n stood quietly, unsure with what to do with herself, before realizing something that could have been crucial.

"My Queen." Announced Y/n as she bowed her head in respect, looking at her through the thick of her lashes. "Morning Y/n. I am pleased to see that you've joined us once more. Please, take a seat beside me." She said, gesturing to a spot in between herself and Sigurd. As Y/n approached, the Queen gave Margrethe a narrowed side glance, "Get our guest a chair." She stated firmly, causing the thrall to panick as she left her spot beside Ivar and walking towards the nearest chair. Both her and Y/n reached for the chair, clutching it at the same time.

"Please, there is no need." Y/n said gently, lifting the chair from Margrethe's grasp and placing it in its spot. The slave just stepped back and scanned Y/n's form before looking away in a submissive manner.

As Y/n took a seat, the Queen continued their discussion before Ivar had been interrupted. "Now Ubbe, when will you have children?" Asked the Aslaug as she gestured to him with a napkin in hand. He grinned, "I probably already have!" He joked causing the others boys to break out in laughter as he pick at his food to throw it towards his mother. "No I'm serious, each and everyone of you should have a woman by now, even married." Spoke the Queen genuinely, as she looked to each of her boys. All of them eyed each other before shrugging without a care and focusing back onto their food. The Queen pinched the bridge of her nose as she shook her head, turning to face her attention to Y/n.

"It seems my boys are far too immature to have a wife, let alone children, don't you think Y/n?" Smiled Aslaug at the girl, which made the boys pause in their gluttony. Y/n found herself a little caught off guard, as she was never the one to get romantically involve, spending most of her time training or raising her brother.

"I don't believe my opinion would have much value my Queen." Began Y/n as she kept her attention solely on Aslaug, "But since they are the King and Queen's children, heirs are expected from them..." Aslaug seemed pleased with Y/n's answer as her lips quirked slightly, "Hmm, and do you have a husband, or lover, for that matter?"

Y/n cringe internally, knowing what Frode would say to the Queen if he had the opportunity. "I don-" However, Aslaug cut her short. "I'm speaking nonsense aren't I? Of course you would. You are a very beautiful young woman, and a shield maiden I assume?" Rambled the Queen which seemed suspiciously intentional. Y/n's mouth was left agape momentarily before she quickly closed it, "Yes, I am a shield maiden my Queen." She said keeping her answer curt.

Hvitserk began giggling cheekily, as he watched the way Ivar strained himself by pressing his palms against the bench. Pushing his torso upwards as he leaned on the table, in hopes of getting a better view of his mother and Y/n as they conversed. Sigurd scowled at his little brother's enamored behavior. Still upset at his earlier possessiveness of Margrethe, especially after she had confided in him the night before.

"As I was saying, you don't need to love the woman to breed with them." Explained the Queen, making Y/n bow down to eat her soup as she try her hardest to block out the conversation; one that she had already deemed as a personal family matter. As Aslaug continued to chatter, Y/n's eyes scan the room as she spooned the food into her mouth, making accidental eye contact with Hvitserk as he copied her actions. He grinned at her as the soup messily dribble down his chin, until an aggressive voice broke his playful staring.

"What is wrong with you?" Quipped Ivar as he now leaned further onto the table staring daggers at Sigurd, "Nothing is wrong with me," spat Sigurd making Hvitserk and Y/n glanced at each other, with Hvitserk widening his eyes at her humorously. "I just wanted to know if she has love anyone except Harbard..." Silence followed making Y/n sit up uncomfortable, "You remember Harbard don't you?" Sigurd continued sparing everyone a glance but his mother.

Ubbe sat stoney still and so did Hvitserk, but Ivar pushed on, with his arms now crossed loosely, "Of course she has loved another," he stated to Sigurd while nodding. "She has always loved me... isn't that right mother?" He urged while smiling at his mother, his eyes briefly catching Y/n's, who was sat just behind Aslaug from his position. However, the Oueen didn't speak and just nodded as she swallowed her drink discreetly.

Y/n's eyebrows raised at Aslaug's reaction, wondering as for why the Queen wasn't being more reassuring to her son, "She just pities you Ivar, just like the rest of us. Y/n probably feels sorry for you too, especially when you look at her with so much desperation." Ivar flinched at Sigurd's words, anger and embarrassment building within him. "and sometimes, we wish mother had left you to the wolves." He smoothly said, as if it weren't something completely vile. Y/n couldn't comprehend how someone could be so cruel, mainly to their family.

"Sigurd!" Demanded the Queen, with Ivar continuing to glare at his brother trying to sort his feelings internally, "What?" Was all he replied with, before resuming his breakfast.

Y/n found herself wanting to put Sigurd in his place, but refrained from doing so as nothing but consequences would come from it. A drag of a chair turn Y/n's attention back to Ivar, as he was now standing tall at the end of the table. This caused Sigurd to haphazardly throw his spoon onto the table, scoffing at Ivar's display.

Ivar began scooting from his seat, supporting his weight briefly on his mother's chair, with her cooing at him to calm his temper. Her attempts went unnoticed as he continued, with his left hand wavering, before it had finally landed on the back of Y/n's chair. Ivar and the girl gazed at each other, with her turning within her seat to make room for the young prince. Ivar was now hesitant, mainly now that he was the closest he had yet been to Y/n, not helping himself as he caught of whiff of her aroma that furthermore attracted him to her. Ivar's forearm gently grazed Y/n's hair as he pulled himself from one chair to another, as he heard Sigurd still taunting him.

"Come on Boneless!" He teased as he stood from his chair now that Ivar was near. Everyone was now standing, Y/n situating herself just behind Ivar. Bowls and utensils fell to the floor as Sigurd pulled a chair from underneath Ivar making him collapse with a painful sounding thud. Y/n reach down to help him, but pause as Hvitserk gestured to her not to from the corner of her eye.

Ivar's frustrated huffs filled the room, his nostrils flaring as he forcefully began to drag himself towards his target. Sigurd's harmful jabs continued, with the Queen now walking up towards Ivar and passing Y/n, who couldn't help but stand and watch how this would play out.

Sigurd seemed to grow tired of this little game, quickly turning and pushing the doors of the hall open, making the bright light bleach the room with a stark white wash, highlighting Ivar's enraged features.

Ivar chased Sigurd out of the room causing a loud scream to rip from his throat, with the Queen attempting to hold him back.

•••

End of part 5.

•••

Notes: Thank you all so much for 50 followers! Had to finish and post part 5 today for you all!

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius, @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog, @midnightmystic

Ask to be tagged!

[angry-geese]

At Dawn’s Break

PB!Dio x Maid!reader

Warnings: none! a little spicy, but SFW. Mostly fluff. Kind of suggestive towards the end.

notes: reader is a maid working for the Joestar family, Dio begins to develop a crush on her. Not the healthiest relationship dynamic. Fem!reader

I didn't really edit this so if there's any egregious errors I'll get to them tomorrow. It starts out kinda slow so whoops

Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

You were alone the first time you arrived at the Joestar estate.

As your father grew ill, you slowly took over as the head of the household. Work still had to be done, the house needed to be kept, you had mouths to feed.

There weren’t many job prospects for an unmarried woman, even less for a girl. At times you thought about turning to less honest means of work, even if only in passing.

The head maid was a close friend of Mr. Joestar’s, and a childhood friend of your father. It was a job, something you could not refuse, however far from your home. You would be fed, clothed and housed, with a healthy sum to send back to your family each month.

The offer seemed almost too good to be true.

Leaving your siblings behind wasn’t something you found yourself eager to do. They could take care of themselves- you made sure of that- but there was a nagging feeling that plagued you. 

Your first night there, you were stripped of your belongings and shown a room you would share with two other girls.

It took no time for you to fall into a routine at the estate. At dawn you would get up to work in the kitchens, preparing that morning’s breakfast. During the day you would spend time cleaning the library, or doing other miscellaneous tasks asked of you. In the evening, you would help with dinner, before returning to your shared room. You were worked to the bone- and even more after that.

You had heard the tales of Mr. Joestar’s adopted son. Occasionally, girls would come into the kitchen crying, hysterical and inconsolable. They’d tell you just how cruel he was. How he’d ruthlessly bully anyone that crossed his path.

Before you, Dio had frightened off any maid that dared go near him.

Jonathan was the more approachable one, you quickly learned that. Your interactions were few, and only in passing. In your two weeks there you had yet to encounter the other son.

It would take another month before you’d finally meet him.

...

Their fight could be heard from across the manor.

That night, the kitchen was alive with rumors. They weren’t things you often concerned yourself with. Not that you viewed yourself as above it, but it was never more than mundane things dramatized for the sake of entertainment.

Today was a bit different.

“I heard Dio started it.”

“I heard Jonathan won!”

“I heard Mr. Joestar is sending him away!”

“He’d never do that!”

“Young lady!"

The head maid’s sudden appearance makes you jump. The kitchen falls silent as she enters. She carries a tray with fine china, and what looks like a glass of wine.

“The boys will be eating in their rooms tonight. Take this to Mr. Brando.”

Your heart drops.

The girls that aren’t stifling giggles are looking at you with pity.

“Can’t someone else do it?”

Your plea falls on deaf ears. The other girls, however kindhearted, know better than to take your place. 

...

You walk like you’re being marched to your own execution.

His door is closed by the time you reach it. Knocking once grants no answer. Walking straight in is rude, sure, but you’d rather get this over with as soon as possible.

The room- at first- appears empty. A single candle is lit, providing the only light as the curtains have been drawn shut. The bed is neatly made, there’s an open book on the nightstand.

Dio grabs you by the back of the dress, spinning you around to face him.

“How dare a little wretch like you enter my room!” 

Caught off guard by his sudden outburst, you backhand him across the face.

His eyes well up but he says nothing. You silently set down the tray, fixing your apron before leaving.

Returning to the kitchen, you make sure to tell the others just how awful he is. 

Soon you’d forget all about him. But Dio never quite forgot about you.

You slowly consumed his every waking moment.

...

Dio began following you around like a lost puppy.

At the beginning it was endearing, but it quickly grew old. His presence was suffocating. Every free moment he had he would trail after you. The only time you got away was when you briefly lost him in the gardens. 

That evening you were asked to bring him dinner again. Then the evening after that.

This time his door was open. Light streamed into the room from the open window. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, a book in his lap. You set the tray down on his side table

“What’s your name?” His face is red. He refuses to meet your gaze.

“Y/N.”

“Will you stay with me, Y/N?” His voice sounds small.

Perhaps it was pity you felt for him. Had he really scared off so many people that he had to make friends with a maid? Or was his request more dubious in nature?

You could only hope that if you fail to return in a timely manner, help would be sent.

Reluctantly you agree, taking a seat next to him. 

...

His company was enjoyable, if a bit awkward. He was standoffish and not what you would consider easy to talk to. As time went on, your conversations continued. You grew to enjoy his company. He went from being a pest, to someone you looked forward to seeing.

In his own twisted way he cared about you.

He would never put it that way. Since his mother’s death- and his subsequent arrival at the Joestar estate- he’s only looked after himself.

The girls talked- as they did- and it was soon made known that if anything needed to be brought to him, you were the one to send. You were the one who would come out unscathed.

It was no secret that this crush was much less innocent than it seemed. You were more of a possession- something pretty to show off- than a companion. 

Of course you would be the last one to realize that.

Passing conversations turned to sneaking away to the library together. Sneaking away to the library turned to night trips to the garden. You soon found your every waking moment consumed by him.

The girls you roomed with long stopped caring about your nightly trips to the garden. The coin you paid them was sure enough to keep word from spreading to the head maid.

...

The spot you typically meet at is an old, gnarled apple tree at the far end of the gardens. There’s a little nook to sit in that shields you from the breeze and any prying eyes.

Your linen shift does little to protect you from the cold English night.

Tonight he’s late. You settle into the nook with a quilt, and leftover teacakes from the morning.

Its not long after he appears, carrying a lantern. He sits next to you under the tree, which has grown barren and scraggly from the changing of seasons. He places a hand on your knee. Its more possessive than suggestive. You can’t help but lean into his touch. The warmth is welcome.

He kisses you. It’s no more than a quick peck. You quickly pull him back to deepen the kiss.

He’s the first to pull away. His gaze burns.

“Will you stay with me, Y/N?”

“Always.”

[mitsukui]

blessed be the mystery of love. | f.w.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader.

Summary: Fred Weasley seems to be a new boy: he has fallen in love, and a couple of unexpected things have come along with it. Apparently, his recently discovered romantic interest has never heard of him, and he is now someone who...writes...love letters?! Well, that is surely weird...

Word Count: 2k.

Warnings: none!

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: this is probably my favorite so far! I’ve been working on it for such a long time, so I hope you all enjoy it! I’m honestly such a sucker for soft Fred...Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention ❤

Masterlist!

Dark brown eyes studied your silhouette surreptitiously, which was utterly uncommon for their owner. One who once was daring now hid behind heart-felt walls that looked like you. A flirtatious behavior had been replaced by occasional stuttering and disinterest in other romantic affairs.

People around him could effortlessly notice the situation was taking its toll on him. However, they seemed too dumbfounded by it to say something – words were long gone from their lips, and from his own as well.

Fred Weasley had fallen desperately in love, but you were unaware of his existence.

Somehow, it sounded ironic: how could you not know about him?! Every single soul in Hogwarts knew who he and his twin were, and he enjoyed such a thing. Unlike his slightly younger identical brother, Fred was one to enjoy popularity and attention. He sought fame and recognition, and he would never complain if a few hookups came along with that.

And, yet, there you were – iridescent and untouchable. You were forcefully popping novel thoughts into his mind. Would you ever lay eyes on him? And if you ever did, what would you think and feel?

It was high time you noticed him, and he could only count on himself to make it happen.

Fred desired to make a different approach, one you had not yet seen. His eyes had captured a few other admirers here and there trying to get your heart, but none of them had achieved success. He ought to be the one to do that.

And love letters would most certainly help him get there.

Writing letters was an arduous task, and it consumed all of his energy. His quill scribbled fiercely against fragments of parchment, heavy sighs filled the silence around him, and every inch of his skin burned in longing and embarrassment. George could be easily found doing something like that; but not Fred. He could be found causing mischief or attaching his lips to someone else’s.

Nevertheless, there he was, combining words and allowing the dark paint to splash against the paper in order to pour his heart out.

His first letter was short – hesitant, almost; after all, it was impossible for him to know how you would react to the approach he had chosen. He had put so much effort into it, despite the small number of words and expressed feelings. It was crystal clear you deserved bigger things; even so, that scenario was entirely atypical to him.

He was just as disoriented as you were when a barn owl dropped an almost unimportant-considered envelope right in front of you, interrupting your breakfast in the Great Hall one morning.

He had been eyeing the owl entrances for a little while when he finally was able to spot the one he had previously picked for you. His lips trembled nervously, and his fingers traveled straight up. Lately, he had been developing a habit of biting his fingernails whenever he was anxious, and anxiety was the only emotion possible for that morning.

What if you ended up not liking the note? Maybe you would think he could be a creep or something similar to that. It was unknown whether you had a significant other or not. Were his words good enough? Would you ever look at him like he so lovingly looked at you?

One of your hands curiously reached out for the envelope while the other one briefly fed the owl. You furrowed your eyebrows together as your eyes ran through the lines: it was a tad difficult to read whatever was written on the parchment, given the handwriting was not one of the best. However, you managed to decode the message, and a smile soon spread across your lips. Despite the distance Fred watched you from, the boy could swear that even a small giggle spilled out from your lips.

The small note read something along the lines of:

“To the one who is now devouring my heart.

I mean no harm. My feelings are of pure admiration.

You are gold.

I hold you in my thoughts.

- W.”

The words he had previously written rang in his brain, and he felt ridiculous. He had never had a good relationship with words, writing, or anything related to that. Why on Earth had he chosen to write you a love letter? You were probably laughing at the stupidity that the note was drenched in.

You allowed both your curiosity to dwell in your core and your eyes to analyze the people who crowded the Great Hall that morning. You studied all the possibilities, and you did not notice Fred Weasley. He felt invisible and, for the first time, he enjoyed it.

After that, a second love letter was written. And then a third one, and even a fourth one, too! He grew bold once again, and his secret passion became stronger.

One day, dizzy due to his recently rediscovered boldness, he allowed his quill to dance against the parchment as he wrote you a fifth letter. This one was different from all the previous ones; he still offered you his heart and tried making you realize how much he secretly admired you. But there was something more to it – he sent you something else other than the letter alone.

The arrival of the usual owl in another freezing morning in Hogwarts quickly muffled the chatting and cutlery noises that hovered over every person in the Great Hall. It barely took you one second to smile at the sight, which caused Fred to smile himself – he absolutely adored your smile.

Those anonymous letters had become part of your daily routine, and they were something you eagerly waited for. Being both a Hogwarts student and a teenager at the same time was no easy duty. Your spirit tended to get overwhelmed from time to time, and you found yourself turning to the anonymous letters for an escape from the reality that surrounded you.

However, as soon as you brushed your fingertips against the envelope, you felt an additional weight to it, something that had never been there before. Attempting to waste no time, you reached for the letter, and a smile did not fail to paint your face; it was so easy for him to make you smile, even though you still did not know who he was.

“I must know whatever fills your heart once your eyes reach the very last word in each of my letters.

Would you mind wearing this little thing if you are not bothered by me and my confessions?

It is small and simple, but it is given to you with love.

As always, I hold you in my thoughts.

- W.”

And then, you finally saw it: a tiny decorative pin, which you figured it out as to be put on your robes. It was shaped as a white envelope sealed with a red heart. You disagreed with the words written on the letter, once you did not see it as something simple. It was beautiful. It was your new favorite thing. It was attached to your robes in the flash of an eye. And how it could not be?!

You profoundly enjoyed his secretive actions. For you, it was extremely sweet that someone admired you so much that they chose to sit down and write you comforting and loving words. A pure energy radiated from every single thing he had sent you, and you wished for an identity reveal. You wished to discover whoever your secret admirer was only to confess you also admired them, mostly because of the sweetness existing in their personality.

It was high time you solved this mystery, and you could only count on yourself to make it happen.

When his sixth letter arrived, you had one of your own as well. You did not bother reading his words right away; after all, you had more important things to do. The barn owl was distracted by one of your hands, offering it small pieces of buttered toast, while the other tied the words you had previously written up its leg.

“Can you do this for me?” You whispered gently to the animal standing close to you. As funny as it sounded, you had grown fond of that owl in a way, too. “Take this back to the one who’s been sending you to me, alright? I promise you I won’t peek! I’m asking them to meet me tonight, in Classroom Eleven. Do you think they will come?” An airy chuckle left your lips and you swore your heart was melting at how much attention the owl seemed to be paying to your words. Before it took off, the animal playfully nibbled your fingers and your smile grew wider.

Like promised, you did not allow yourself to look wherever the owl was going to. All of your curiosity was being saved for later that night. There was no way for you to know if he would ever show up, and that hurt your insides a bit. What if it had all been a cruel joke?

The same wonders that once had haunted his brain now haunted yours.

But the night did not cease to fall, and the moon did not cease to shine. It was terribly cold, but your feet still automatically took you to Classroom Eleven, one of the classrooms that were hardly ever used for classes or any other purposes. It was a risky place, given the fact that it was of so easy access. However, you thought the possibility of getting caught was rather exciting. So you entered the classroom, as quietly as you could manage, and you waited.

Fred, on the other hand, could feel his stomach being punched repeatedly by a thousand of invisible hands. He was painfully apprehensive, and one of the signs that revealed that was his constant pacing in a deserted hallway.

He obviously would never stand you up, but the thought of running away popped up in his brain a few times. This was an extremely ridiculous behavior for someone like him. And even though he knew he had to get it done, he was still so intimidated by it all.

“Just rip it off like a band-aid.” The boy whispered to himself, his steps finding a slower pace and his hands being shoved into his pockets. Deep breaths were taken and he was finally able to gather all the courage he needed to walk towards and enter the classroom.

Your body was resting against an empty desk, which it seemed like it had not been used in years. Staring out the window, you secretly wished you had worn something better for that moment; perhaps, your pajamas and a long knitted cardigan over them had not been the best choice.

When you were about to start your seventh mental curse about your idiot choices, hesitant knocks on the door made a mess out of your line of thoughts. They came as a warning that things were about to either go very well or terribly bad.

And, then, a long silence followed. Both of you panicked, each one on a different side of the wooden door. You wondered if you should answer something to the knocks, he wondered if he should have said something. Your body was straightened up, and you suddenly realized your hands were getting slightly sweaty.

He opened the heavy door so slowly that, as you watched it, you could see your life flashing right in front of your eyes.

Finally, you spotted something in the dark. Peeking through the door, your eyes captured the sight of locks of an orange marmalade shaded hair entering the classroom. Right then and there, you felt like everything had just gained a new and brighter light.

You were breathless. The boy timidly standing there, still a bit far away from you, was the most stunning human you had ever seen.

His dark eyes observed you, both curiosity and fear being expressed wordlessly. He attempted to aim a small smile at you, which you gladly accepted and offered him another smile back.

After a few moments of intense stares and exchanged grins, your voice finally cut the comfortable silence that had been set between the two of you.

“The wonders are finally ceased.”

Tag list! ❤️  @efyra​ @writingsomewrongs​ @pineapplesandpinas​ @ronweaselysslut​ @fiction-is-the-new-reality @amourtentiaa​ @emmaev​

[fanficshiddles]

Stitching The Wounds, Chapter 2

Leona was getting irritated at herself. She couldn’t stop thinking about the two Alphas. That she reluctantly found incredibly attractive…

She had felt a spark as soon as they had trapped her against the wall. But she was trying to ignore it. While she had never felt a spark like that before, she had tried being an omega for quite a few Alphas.

But they had all gone wrong.

She just didn’t want to submit to any of them. She liked things being more exciting in regards to sex, more of a challenge. She liked a properly dominant Alpha. One to take full control and take charge, subdue her. But one that would also look after her.

The Alphas previously had given up too easily, or didn’t bother correcting her. She enjoyed being bratty, she couldn’t help it. She liked being overpowered, put in her place... She needed it, even if she didn’t quite realise that yet. Most of the time when she opened her mouth, too much sass came out that would get her in trouble. Even if she didn’t mean to.

There had been one Alpha that was violent towards her. While she expected a firm hand and spankings, she would be disappointed if there wasn’t, being smacked in the face and punched was not something she had been expecting at all. She had high-tailed it away from that Alpha so fast, it put her off finding another Alpha. Plus, the previous experiences hadn’t helped either.

Along with not being able to have children, she just decided she was unlovable. No Alpha would want her. She was a pathetic excuse for an omega.

But the firm, yet gentle actions of Loki and Kilgrave had surprised her slightly. It had knocked her off her game completely when they took her to the pub and fed her. Not to mention the strong grip they had on her arms…

Trying to push them out of her mind, she entered the abandoned church through the back window and went through to the back room, where she had made her home. There was running water, granted it was cold, but it was better than nothing so she could at least shower. And at least she had a roof over her head.

She had been staying there since her parents chucked her out a few years ago, after learning she couldn’t have children of her own. They claimed she wasn’t a proper omega and no Alpha could love her… Well, they were right. She thought.

-

Loki and Kilgrave pulled up in Loki’s car at the address Mrs Stanton had given them.

‘This can’t be right.’ Kilgrave said as he looked at the old church they stopped at.

The Alphas got out their car and looked at the building that was falling apart. Loki sniffed the air and something caught his scent.

‘She’s definitely here.’ He said as he continued sniffing the air.

Kilgrave did too and he could smell the sweet scent of the omega as well. They followed their noses round the back of the church and were able to climb in through the broken window.

After looking around briefly, they followed their noses to the back room and stopped dead at the sight before them. Leona was sleeping on a small, old mattress on the floor, curled up and snoring softly. There were empty sandwich and crisp packets around her and bottles of water. There was some loose change on a table behind her and a small pile of clothes at her side.

Loki looked at Kilgrave, both of them sharing the same thoughts.

They saw the omega there, so vulnerable and alone. Their instincts were screaming at them to protect her. That’s how they knew that she was quite possibly the one for them. How they were going to share an omega, they had no idea, they would need to work it out. If that would be possible.

If she even wanted one of them, or both, that was. They didn’t know if she had felt a spark too or not. But they knew one thing, no matter what she felt towards them, they weren’t going to just leave her there.

Kilgrave walked over to her and crouched down, he reached out and gently shook her shoulder. ‘Leona.’ He spoke softly.

She started to stir slightly, grumbling. But when she opened her eyes and realised there was someone in her space, she panicked at first. She scrambled away from Kilgrave, knocking into the small table behind her.

‘It’s ok, it’s just us.’ Kilgrave said as he put his hands out and slowly stood up. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’

Leona quickly recovered and knowing it was those two Alphas, she knew she wasn’t in harms way. So relaxed a little.

‘What are you doing here?’ She huffed and got up to her feet.

‘We came to find you.’ Loki said as he looked around the room, hands in his pocket.

‘Well, now you’ve found me. You can leave. I was sleeping.’ She folded her arms over her chest and glared at the two Alphas.

‘Clearly.’ Loki said as he raised an eyebrow at her.

‘How did you find me?’

‘We went to city hall and managed to get this address.’ Kilgrave said.

Leona rolled her eyes. ‘Typical. Let me guess, Mrs Stanton?’

Loki and Kilgrave both nodded.

‘Don’t you have a home, your parents?’ Loki asked.

She sighed and leaned back against the table. ‘Alright. Look. I was chucked out from my parents home a few years ago, even though I hadn’t found an Alpha. I can’t have children, so they deemed me a worthless omega that no Alpha would ever want. And it seems they’re right. So please, just leave me alone.’

Loki and Kilgrave’s face fell sadly.

‘Mrs Stanton did tell us about an accident when you were younger.’ Kilgrave hummed.

‘So why did you both come looking for me? If you know I’m a useless omega anyway. Not that it matters, you couldn’t handle me.’ She said cockily.

Loki chuckled. ‘Oh, we could easily handle you, doll. It’s clear you need a firm hand.’ Loki said firmly and started walking towards her, so did Kilgrave.

‘You’ve gotten away with far too much for far too long.’ Kilgrave growled.

They stopped a few feet from her, but it was enough for her to have to crane her neck to look up at them properly. She stuck her chin out and tried not to feel the effects the Alphas were having on her…

‘We are taking you home with us.’ Loki said decisively.

Leona’s eyes widened, she laughed nervously. ‘Uhm, no. I don’t think so.’

‘You will have food, hot water, a comfy bed, clean clothes. Why wouldn’t you want to come with us?’ Kilgrave asked, folding his arms over his chest.

‘I’m not stupid, I’m an unmated omega. You two are clearly unmated too… if I go with you it’s probably just because you want me in your bed.’ She hissed.

‘You can’t stay here for the rest of your life. We felt a spark, and I think you did too. Would it be so bad if you did end up in our beds?’ Loki smirked and moved in a bit closer to her.

Leona rolled her eyes. She kept trying to look unaffected, but the scents from both Alphas were starting to cloud her mind. Making her feel a little fuzzy, something she hadn’t felt before. ‘I am not being your omega. Either of you!’

Loki and Kilgrave chuckled at the same time.

‘The smell of arousal that you are giving off would say otherwise, pet.’ Kilgrave said as he licked his lips and grinned.

Her eyes widened and she tried to stop giving off her scent, but it was impossible to do so.

‘We will not standby and leave you here, when there is a perfectly good spare room at mine. Food and warmth. Come back with us, spend some time with the two of us. You might even learn that some Alphas are not as bad as you think.’ Loki said softly.

Leona sighed and closed her eyes for a moment to contemplate her options.

‘Neither of you will try and claim me?’ She asked when she opened her eyes again.

A smirk spread across Loki’s face, he leaned in and she felt his breath dance across her ear. ‘Trust me, doll. You will be the one begging for us to claim you sooner than you think.’

She swallowed hard. ‘Yeah, sure I will.’ She scoffed.

‘There’s a beef stew brewing in the slow cooker, it will be ready by the time we get home. So, are you coming?’ Kilgrave asked as he and Loki slowly walked away from her and stopped to wait for her answer by the door.

Leona took a moment before answering. ‘Fine… Just for a day or two.’

Loki and Kilgrave smiled brightly. They waited for her to pack up the small amount of belongings she had, then they all headed out to Loki’s car.

She was about to get in the front passenger side, but Kilgrave put his hand on her shoulder and guided her to the back door. ‘Ah, ah. Alphas ride up front.’ He opened the back door for her and she grumbled at him before getting in.

‘So are you two like, a couple, or something?’ Leona asked on the drive back to Loki’s.

The two Alphas chuckled.

‘No. We’ve been friends since we were children. I was working abroad for a few years, just returned and I’m between jobs, so staying with Loki until I find something and get my own place.’ Kilgrave explained.

‘What do you do?’

‘I’m a doctor, I specialise in neurology.’ He said proudly.

‘Oh, that’s quite impressive.’ Leona said in surprise as she looked out of the window. Then she looked at the back of Loki’s head. ‘What about you?’

Loki grinned and looked at her in the mirror. ‘I’m a teacher, I specialise in Biology.’

‘Of course you’d both have high authoritative jobs.’ She sighed.

But her insides were clenching at the thought. They were both clearly very intelligent, they would have to be anyway for the jobs they had. But there was something about these two Alphas that were drawing her in more compared to any she had been with previously.

Their scents made her feel safe. It was very strange for her.

Leona wasn’t sure what she had been expecting of Loki’s home. But when they pulled up outside the rather large and fancy looking house, it was certainly not anything like that. She was in awe as she gawped up at it.

Loki opened the door for her and put his hand out towards her.

‘Welcome home.’ He smiled and waited expectantly for her to take his hand.

After slight hesitation, she took his large hand and he helped her out of the car, then guided her into their home.

[malkumtend]

I Like Your Laugh - A SquirrelCrow AU - Chapter 23.

Crowpaw hadn’t slept.

He wished it was because of the dusty stink of the rabbit warren his clan had been forced into, or the scream of the monsters outside, far away yet never quiet, or the constant growling and parched coughs of his clanmates that carried on throughout the night like a predator’s call.

But it wasn’t anything like that.

It was the never-changing grind in Crowpaw’s chest. Pounding. Stinging. Unrelenting.

All night he’d stirred restlessly as the nightmare of reality picked at his dreams like ravens at fresh kill. It could have been about anything, the failure of the clan meeting, the growing desperation it was clear Windclan was facing, the knowledge that with every passing second the forest was becoming barren of the prey and shelter they needed.

But it wasn’t anything logical.

Instead, the searing pain that flared over his belly was carried by a wildfire of five words.

She’d be ashamed of you.

Crowpaw breathed in the dead air and tried to imagine that it didn’t burn.

“Crowpaw?”

Stopping himself short, he turned to his mother, feeling suddenly guilty for how sadly she was looking at him.

Crowpaw wanted to give the most simple answer of “Yes?”

But that felt too heavy. His ear flicked instead.

Ashfoot looked down to Crowpaw’s feet, her whiskers shuffling. When Crowpaw followed, he saw his right paw inches from a deep rabbit hole. Crowpaw grumbled to himself, hating his own stupidity. Windclan were taught as kits how to avoid tripping in the many holes that engorged their territory. Angry embarrassment prickled along his neck.

“Sorry, Ashfoot.” He rasped, walking around the trap.

His mother looked at him gently. “Don’t worry, I know it’s hard to recognise much about the moors anymore.”

She wasn’t wrong, but it was still the kindness of a hollow excuse. Somewhere inside, she must have felt ashamed that her own flesh and blood had almost made such a ludicrous mistake. Crowpaw certainly felt the shame curl inside him.

She’d be ashamed of you.

He said nothing more as he followed Ashfoot. There would be nothing to gain from scenting these holes; the prey had long since moved on. There was nothing left here for rabbits or hares.

There was nothing left here for any cat.

But the clan was still starving, and someone needed to feed them. Elders, mothers, and kits needed some cat to search this wasteland for them. Crowpaw had been the first to volunteer.

He couldn’t just sit and do nothing. What point would there be to him if he did that?

Ashfoot slowed her pace to walk beside her son. Crowpaw knew she was staring at him. How exactly she was looking at him he didn’t want to see. “When was the last time you ate anything?” She asked tersely.

Crowpaw’s chest fluttered, “It doesn’t matter.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

It was hard to admit that he was forcing himself to look at his own mother. His tail tried to hide the sink of his ribs along his pelt. “I don’t know.” He lied, “Yesterday morning?” Truthfully, he hadn’t eaten since a few days after he’d left the Tribe’s cave. Even then, he’d been forcing himself. Swallowing just didn’t seem to have a point then. And now he was back, and now that he’d seen every shrinking stomach, the idea of eating felt like something wrong.

His job was to feed those who needed it.

He would survive.

“Then it will do you good to eat when we get back, Crowpaw.” Ashfoot said, “Onewhisker and Tornear caught some prey for the apprentices to share this morning. I’m sure there’ll be spare for you.”

“Give it to another cat. Whitetail and her kits can have it if they saved some for me.”

Ashfoot looked torn between pride and worry. “Crowpaw, I know what you’re trying to do and it’s very noble of you. But we don’t know how long it will be before we move on; you need to make sure you eat as well.”

“If I need to eat, I will. But right now, I don’t.”

Ashfoot’s mew hardened, “And what will happen when you need to and there isn’t any prey? We need to share what we can as a clan! And that clan includes you!”

The clouds overhead didn’t cool the foul winds, they amplified them. Walking toneless underneath the cold grey, Crowpaw felt like an icicle buried in a freezing tomb. When he walked, paws sinking in mud and grot, nothing felt like home. He felt no attachment to this place like he once did. He felt the disorientation of an outsider.

It had been like ever since he’d come back.

“If we don’t know how long we’ll be here for, then it makes more sense for me to make sure the cats who need it the most get fed.”

“It’s not down to you alone, Crowpaw.” Ashfoot said, sighing. “Windclan will do better if you keep your strength up as well. We all work together, like we always do.” She pressed her pelt against Crowpaw’s with an amorous purr.

Crowpaw felt her bony frame and the fur that sagged without weight.

He didn’t like disagreeing with his mother, but she was wrong. It was up to Crowpaw to make sure that cats got the meals they deserved. It was the least he could do after they’d suffered for so long.

“I’m strong enough, Ashfoot.” He said plainly.

Ashfoot gave him a weak smile, “I know you are.” Crowpaw once felt warmed when his mother spoke like this, with the warm drip that stroked her lips and reminded Crowpaw that this powerful Warrior that had raised him and his siblings alone, for the greater part of his life, was his mother.

The mother who despite starving for what must have been a moon, still cared more about the son who had run away.

It was moments like this that made it so much easier for Crowpaw to forget that he was hungry.

Ashfoot pulled away, giving her son a firm look. “But please, you do need to eat Crowpaw. Every cat is hunting, so you mustn’t think you’re being selfish by eating as well.”

“I don’t think that, Ashfoot.” He didn’t. He just knew that someone else deserved it over him.

“You swear?”

“Yes.”

His answer seemed to reassure Ashfoot enough. Good. She could worry about herself now. The same way Crowpaw worried about her.

They travelled over the next two hills and didn’t find anything. Crowpaw could hear the monsters silver claws somewhere, tearing into their home once again effortlessly. He saw his mother shiver, a thin look of dread on her muzzle.

She was no fool.

Crowpaw wished he could say something to ease her thoughts.

But he was no fool either.

“They’re getting closer.” Ashfoot muttered. “It won’t be long until they reach Shadowclan’s territory.”

Crowpaw couldn’t stifle a growl. “Who cares? If they’re going to run away like frightened hares, they won’t need it anymore.”

Ashfoot glanced at him briefly, her tail twitching.

Crowpaw knew how it sounded. The cat who had come back talking of prophecies about the clans leaving together, now damning a clan for fleeing certain death. He didn’t care. He saw Blackstar’s unwillingness to negotiate. The tom had made up his mind before he’d even arrived.

“If he wasn’t even going to listen in the first place, he shouldn’t have wasted our time and just made Shadowclan leave.”

Ashfoot stared ahead gravely. Tallstar had reluctantly informed the clan of the opinion of the leader’s and had advised them to be patient for just a bit longer while they and Thunderclan worked to change their minds.

But no cat had the strength for patience.

“Blackstar has always been…” Her words broke off in a quiet hiss.

“Hare-brained?”

“I was going to say insufferable, but sure.” Ashfoot admitted, the slither of a snarl on her lips. It disappeared with a sigh. “But he is still a leader, and hopefully Tallstar can convince him to leave with us.”

Crowpaw spat, “Nothing would convince that fox-heart of anything!”

“If the monsters make their way through his territory, he may soon be thinking differently.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

Ashfoot nodded silently, lifting her nose to taste the air again. “I wouldn’t either. But Tallstar wants all the clans to leave together, and it’s our duty to stand by his wishes until he thinks differently.” A bitter mew muffled out of the molly. “No matter how long that may be.”

Anger. Crowpaw was accustomed to the feeling. For a long, long time, he’d taken a twisted comfort from it. Anger had pushed him on, made him stronger, chased away enemies. Anger had been a red sky that kept him ready for the battle of this forest.

But now, that anger just tasted like bile.

“Yeah.” Crowpaw muttered bitterly. “Well, maybe we don’t need them if they’re going to make us wait like this.”

Ashfoot whipped her tail pointedly, a knowing frown on her muzzle. “Well, at the very least I know you’ve been listening to your mentor.”

Crowpaw cringed. Mudclaw’s stern face froze over a dark corner of his mind. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” Ashfoot asked, “Crowpaw, you’re the one who told Tallstar about the prophecy.”

Crowpaw walked on wordlessly. His nose felt full of tight air that stung when he inhaled. She was right. When it all came down to it, it had been Crowpaw’s idea. Not to leave, in his heart he knew that Windclan definitely would have come to that conclusion on their own. But to leave with the other clans.

‘I bet you’re really proud to have that kind of influence.’

The snarl prodded Crowpaw with an accusing reminder. Even if Crowpaw hadn’t meant it, maybe Webfoot had a point. His story had created influence over Tallstar’s decision. It was because of that that his leader was reluctant to leave with just his own clan.

He’d probably be begging them to leave when he was close to his own death.

And as the days went on, and Tallstar grew weaker and weaker, that didn’t seem as much of a nightmare as a certainty.

“I’m sorry.” His apology crossed the stale air, hopefully reaching more cats than just his mother.

Ashfoot’s tail stiffened as it rose in the air. “What for?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“And keep Starclan’s message from the rest of us? Don’t be mouse-brained!” Her tail whipped his rump, like she did when he was a grouchy little kit moaning about staying in the nursery.  “It’s good you told us, Crowpaw. Now we know what Starclan wants.”

If it was what Starclan wanted, then where were they while the clans argued last night.

“Sometimes I don’t understand you, Crowpaw.” Ashfoot meowed, “Why would you even suggest leaving the clans after what you told us?” Her stare hardened, “Did Mudclaw say something to you?”

‘Remember where your real allies are if the time comes.’

“Not really.” Crowpaw couldn’t make more trouble for his Deputy.

Ashfoot sighed, giving him the look. The look that showed she knew what he was thinking and how he wasn’t being honest. Even now, it made his head drop.

“Well… maybe he’s right? If the clans won’t help us, maybe we should go on our own.”

“Do you really think we could make it on our own?” There was a soft directness there that was open yet judging all the same.

Crowpaw kept quiet. Windclan was weak, he had to admit that, but if no help was going to come whether they swallowed their pride or not, maybe it was best they just did what they could quickly.

“I’m not saying I don’t understand where Mudclaw is coming from. I’m sure he has only Windclan’s best interest in his heart.” Ashfoot smiled, though it looked perfunctory. “But what he needs to remember, as do you.” She mewed, “Is that he is not Windclan’s leader. We don’t need to be raking up old bones at a time like this.”

Crowpaw snorted, “Why not? The other leaders have.”

When Ashfoot looked back at him, Crowpaw suddenly felt tired again. He frowned and made his eyes go low once again, ignoring the discontent, but mostly ignoring the worry that clouded his mother like hail.

The worry he was the cause off.

Here he was again, making problems like he always did.

“Crowpaw…” His mother sounded closer now.

Crowpaw, against his nature, took a brisk step away and let his mouth move, not caring for what words came out. “No! Why should we have to wait because a few leaders can’t see sense?”

“Because that’s how it is.”

It was hard to tell if Ashfoot said that with assurance or reluctance. Perhaps it was resignation.

Like everything was inevitable, no matter what.

“Fox-dung.” Crowpaw muttered. It didn’t have to be that way at all. Blackstar and Leopardstar did what they did because they could, because circumstances had gifted them the luxury of an escape or shelter that the others could not cling too. What did they even know? What had they done while their clans picked at bones for food or sucked on leaves for moisture?

But then, what had Crowpaw done?

He pushed away the dark, nestling into the nest of anger.

He became aware again of his mother’s presence. This time, when she’d pressed their cold pelts beside each other, she used her tail to make sure he didn’t slip away so easily. She kept him by her purring chest, offering a light lick on the back of his head.

She hardly ever did that.

He sighed. Just how terrible did he look?

The comfort, the understanding she offered felt suffocating. She moved so clearly with the honesty of her care. But everything just felt, at best, hollow or, at worst, like a wasp sting swelling up with doubtful venom. For years, his mother’s advice had been like the word of Starclan.

But here, believing at all just felt worthless and empty.

Nothing felt okay anymore.

“I know it’s frustrating for you.” Ashfoot’s voice came down like soft rain, “After everything you’ve been through, I know this isn’t what you thought would happen.”

Crowpaw began to itch all over.

Frustrating for him?

Everything he’d been through.

“But,” Ashfoot had now become close enough that her heartbeat synchronised with his. Her voice was like a morning mist. “Windclan now has a plan for if we decide to leave. That’s because of what you did, Crowpaw. You should be proud of that.”

Crowpaw didn’t say a word as something began to pound again at the back of his head.

“I’m certainly proud of you.”

The fragments of Crowpaw’s meaningless pride began to twist once again.

“You know that, don’t you?” Ashfoot’s questions sounded like a plea in her son’s whirlpool thoughts.

“Yeah, I do.” He just barely formed the stifled grunts into a reply. He did it at first to end the conversation. He did it more to stop the fear from coating his mother’s eyes.

“I might go check if there’s any prey over there.” Crowpaw said, forcing himself to give a courteous press of his tail to his mother’s flank before he walked away.

“Huh?” The fire of a protest built in Ashfoot. “We should hunt together.” Something hurt in her tone.

“The prey’s scattered since the Twolegs came.” As if he had any right to explain that. “I can check one area on my own.”

“But we need to-”

“I’ll see you back at camp.” He said gruffly, steadily pacing away as his mother stared at his back. He pretended not to hear her sigh as she turned to search her own area, the area that covered their border with Thunderclan.

Crowpaw made sure he’d avoid that.

He knew he’d most likely get a scolding later. There wasn’t really a reason why he needed to go on his own. All that stretched in his direction was dead grass and the remnants of bushes, green bodies turning a sickly yellow in the dusty air. He’d find no prey around here, more than likely returning to his disappointed clanmates a failure.

He could only hope Ashfoot had better luck.

He had no choice but to press on, searching yet not truly hunting. It didn’t matter, he realised. The pounding still batted like enemy paws on his neck. He couldn’t escape it. Really, he was more of a fool for imagining that he could.

The tom grit his teeth as his thoughts turned rogue once again. He lifted his sunken eyes to the hill, his neck cracking at the soft movement.

It didn’t make any sense. He knew where his heart had to lie. He knew what side he was on. And he’d made certain to clarify that last night. In the scheme of the stars, of the clans, he’d done no wrong, he’d only followed the paw prints that had guided the clans long before he was born.

So why…

Why did it hurt so much?

Why did the memory of those eyes, once soft, turned furious, make him want to vomit?

There was no reason to be like this. This was how it was meant to be. All that deserved to be on his mind was Windclan’s safety. Anything else was just him wasting time and energy that could be used to actually help some cat.

But try as he might, every thought he made, every move he took, caused a reaction on his body. A pulse in his chest, a tightness in his throat, and that never-ending pounding against his skull. Every second was like a fight.

And it made him tired.

So very very tired.

He shook himself up. What was he thinking? This was no time to be selfish. Windclan needed prey and he had to return with some.

Or why return at all.

Crowpaw whipped his head from side to side, as if the pain in his neck could be removed like a flea.

They didn’t need him.

He began to walk faster, not caring when he stumbled across rabbit holes and tripped through slumps in the hill.

He was just another cat without prey. Like so many others. He was nothing special. He was no help.

“No!” He hissed to whatever monster was making his sight sting. Windclan needed him, they needed all the help they could get. That was his duty. That was his reason to…

Did Windclan need him?

Or did he need Windclan?

Something had begun to buzz in Crowpaw’s ears. But there was nothing to see wherever he looked. Nothing at all.

What Windclan cat thought of the other clans this much?

“No!” Crowpaw yelled into the moors. Any prey for tree-lengths now would surely be scared off.

He was worried about Windclan, that was all. He was worried about his home. It was Windclan where he had been born, it was in Windclan that he had caught his first prey, it was in Windclan where he had struggled and fought fuelled on his determination to be one of their treasured Warriors.

But so had every other Windclan cat.

Nightcloud, Webfoot, even Owlpaw, they had all lived Windclan just like Crowpaw. Their loyalty was just as strong as his. They had watched as their home was destroyed, and they had done everything in their power to keep their clanmates alive and well, to keep Windclan’s spirit alive!

Did he really have the audacity to savour his loyalty as some kind of pride?

Loyalty was just the necessary goal of his existence.

Crowpaw’s legs had begun to tremble. He sniffed the air, his whiskers pathetically seeming to beg in how they wavered in the air like the shaking paws of a kitten. This had to stop, and it had to stop now. What was he even doing? Arguing with himself like this?! What good was he doing, standing in the middle of a prey-less hill, muttering and screaming at nothing?

He wanted to prove himself, didn’t he?

He had to prove himself.

He needed to prove himself.

He was loyal, he knew he was loyal, he’d do anything for Windclan, that was why he’d given up on his fr-

He pressed a paw to his face, exasperated, and didn’t flinch when he felt claws pierce into his fur.

What was he doing? No. They weren’t that anymore. They should have never been that at all. He needed to regret that, forget about everything, if he wanted to carry on, in order to function. They would travel together, but whatever false ties he’d let materialise for too long were cut. He’d seen to that. He’d made it happen.

They hated him. He was sure of that. When they sat beside him last night, there was nothing there but the same countenance as the beginning. That icy silence that should have carried them through the whole journey. Before his leader, Crowpaw had made it clear where he stood.

Last night, associating those faces with their clan had made it so much simpler to push them away into the dark. The grey tom who’s leader had left his own begging for water, the tabby molly who’s clan wanted to hide away in the den of kittypets and Two-legs, and the brown tom who’s leader refused to see sense and stubbornly put his faith in leader’s who’s hearts were already set on their own ambitions.

Yes. It was so much easier when he did that.

And as for his best-

As for Squ-

A-As for that mol-

She’d be ashamed of you.

She must have hated him.

Even in the beginning, she’d never said anything to him with such venom.

Wasn’t that better? No. It was better. It-It needed to- (Please don’t look at me like that. Please. That had been what he’d thought when she hated him)

Why was this happening? She wasn’t any different. Just another cat he’d been forced to complete a task with. She shouldn’t have even been there in the first place. There was no reason he should dwell on her, or for the molly who had (saved his life) died-

He couldn’t let them do this to him. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. (They were gone. He was alone. All alone.) It wasn’t his fault they’d believed they were anything more than rivals. If they’d been truly loyal they would have kept away. (They were good cats. Such amazing cats.) The hills stretched to nowhere as he wandered. Lost. Unwanted. Unneeded. (He missed them. Even now he missed them so much.)

The buzzing in his ears was dark and hungry. It growled fiercely.

‘Focus on their clans’, he begged himself, ‘They’ve left you behind. They don’t care. They never did. It’s time to wake up. If you care so much about this, you shouldn’t be here. Be a Windclan cat, for starclan’s sake, be a Windclan cat!’

The others were the problem. Not him. Shadowclan were cowards. Thunderclan were foolish idealists. Riverclan were stubborn, traitors who refused to believe their own cats! Ignored their cats last wishes.

(She died for her clan and for you. What are you doing?)

Crowpaw stopped running – how had he not realised he’d been running – listening to the buzzing drift as it twisted over the pounding of his heartbeat. Once again, he was nowhere sufficient. The grass was cracked and caked with dirt. The scents of prey mingled in a forgotten symphony, too far to be of any use. Even the berries on some lonely bushes nearby had long since dried up.

It was silent.

Silent enough for him to consider the words.

Consider everything actually.

What was he doing?

He was prey-less, far from his clan, twisting over thoughts he shouldn’t consider. His clan was waiting for his help. They had been waiting for his help ever since he had returned.

And he’d done nothing.

The prey he had caught was shrivelled and meaningless, any cat could have caught it, if he had never been on that patrol no cat would have noticed.

He had told the clans they needed to leave. But when he looked at them, how long would it have taken them to realise that in the first place. Tallstar had believed him so easily, it was more than likely they would have chosen to left even if he had never given them the message.

So… What really had he done that any other cat couldn’t have? What help was he really?

What did Ashfoot have to be proud of?

She’d be ashamed of you.

Crowpaw looked up to the grey sky, waiting for a chance of rain that could wake him from this empty state.

Riverclan.

Leopardstar hadn’t believed their words. But her clan’s territory was safe, for now. And there was no chosen cat who could return and tell them otherwise.

Who’s fault was that?

Windclan didn’t need Crowpaw to leave. Riverclan may have needed Feathertail.

But here they were.

The clans were waiting for Riverclan, who could not be convinced by the words of their trusted Warrior.

Because the wrong cat died.

Starclan had not come. Was that because there was no hope? Or could it be because their plans had been compromised by the loss of a Warrior who had been needed, and in her place had been left with the selfish remains of some mouse-brained apprentice?

Crowpaw’s blue eyes searched for another reason, they peered over grey hills and smoky skies, searching for some reason that he was here, that he was needed, that there was some logical explanation for him not being the one who had been left behind.

But the other thoughts, the buzzing forces, they had made everything so dizzy.

He only came out of if out of sheer luck, when a high, angry cry broke through the clouds and launched itself towards him.

Crowpaw turned his head just in time to see the hawk, yellow claws spread like ten furious vipers, rush through the air as it raced from the sky, its eyes blazing right on the young apprentice.

Crowpaw didn’t have time to crash his teeth together, he barely had time for his heavy eyes to widen, all he had was a pure desire that struck his body like a thousand hot claws along his back. It was the desire to live, the primal instinct to survive.

That gave him enough time to pounce to the side, the scabby flesh of the hawk’s feet just hitting the tip of his tail. It missed. Crowpaw was still alive. He caught himself, twisting on his feet so he facing the predator as it cried out angrily, before slamming its strong wings in the air and taking flight again.

Crowpaw scowled at the beast as it hovered in a taunting circle above him. What was a hawk doing in the moors? They usually rested in high trees! Had it been scared from its shelter because of the Two-legs? He may have sympathised with that idea if the bird wasn’t clear on making him its new taste of prey.

Even as he hissed at the hawk, Crowpaw could not hide how scared he felt. He’d never seen a hawk like this before, not on his own anyway. Its wings were bigger than maybe a whole clan cat, beating the air with enraged strikes, its whole body was bigger than Crowpaw, and its dark talons glistened in the misty air, poised and ready to sink into his flesh.

Crowpaw found himself needing to dodge again, his body rolling hotly over the hill as he zig-zagged down the base, when the bird swept down with the grace of a fish in the water. The apprentice’s heart pounded like the predator’s wings. There was no way he was going to outrun this thing. And there was no where he could hide from it either. Even if he tried to slip into the bushes, they were thin, and the hawk would pass through them like clouds. It cried again, angrier this time as it missed its kill, screeching into the sky as it rose above the hills again.

Its huge head turned in the air to its prey, its eyes full of hunger, and more strangely, hatred. For some reason or not, this creature hated him.

Crowpaw couldn’t look away from the hateful stare, but as the bird’s rage thickened like black clouds, Crowpaw felt his own body tightening, fixing in an arched, frenetic reason.

If he couldn’t run and he couldn’t hide, there wasn’t anything left to do but fight.

Because he realised just what this bird was. He looked at this bird and saw a dozen full bellies that eased his clan for another few days. He saw a delighted mother nursing her kits with a body full of milk. He saw eyes that would find him with reason for once.

This bird was a reason to be here.

So, forgetting the growl and jolt of his own hunger, Crowpaw felt the blood fix his vision, and he stiffened to survive.

He would kill this bird. He would kill it to show that he was here and he deserved to be.

He watched the bird carefully, a voice digging patience into him, if he rushed into this there was a good chance this could easily go wrong. He needed to find the right moment and take it. A savage thrill had swelled in his stomach and let his anger and terror merge into a powerful shock along his back.

He had never killed anything this big before. But that didn’t matter. It would be done.

The hawk’s fox-like eyes gleamed, it thrust its wings down with the power of a dog’s jaws before it dove once more. Its beak, as thick as a kits head and strong enough to crush one, snapping open to scream.

His breath held captive in his chest, Crowpaw didn’t look away. He needed to watch if he was going to figure this out or not. He needed to get close. The bird was descending quickly, its massive wings solidly held to their furthest reach as they sliced the open air. Crowpaw waited a heartbeat more, just enough for the hawk to curl its talons from its scaly legs, before he launched himself forward on his belly, giving a kick of his paws to the sky as he felt the powerful friction of air above his back. Even as it missed him, Crowpaw knew that this thing was strong.

One of his back paws hit the tail end of the bird, just where it could hit flesh, but Crowpaw had already rolled away by the time the bird to curl its body around. It screeched, pained and angry, but returned to the sky, its tail feather shaking off the blow as well as it could.

Crowpaw snarled at it as it flapped overhead, if it hadn’t been mad before it was now. Crowpaw hoped it was like a cat, where he knew anger made you reckless. It seemed to fly higher than before, soaring in a dart to where the clouds seemed to just touch its head. But even then, Crowpaw could see them burning down at him.

The dark tom licked his lips and let out a hot angry breath.

When the bird spread its talons, it left its chest and throat open. He had a chance, a small chance, but if he could avoid those talons, he just needed to know where to bite.

And he didn’t have long to figure that out.

The bird was coming down again. Feather’s ruffled in complete rage. It was hurt and resentful, and it desperately wanted revenge. It wasn’t going to wait it seemed. It came down like lightning. Crowpaw watched it dart towards him, its wings curved in prepared tension. Their eyes locked, a burst of rage and hunger connecting them. Crowpaw didn’t mutter a prayer as he began to sprint his way towards the bird. With a frustrated yell, the Hawk flapped to position itself. But no prey had actually ran at it before. Adjusting itself to this new concept, the bird chose to flick its talons out once again. All it needed to do was dig those talons into Crowpaw’s soft belly, and it would be over.

Letting a numb sensation compel him from fury or fright, Crowpaw leapt as soon as the birds talons were a tail-length away.

It was an ugly collision.

The talons just slipped on his back, but Crowpaw’s whole weight stormed into the soft meat of the Hawk’s chest, breaking its grip on him. Crowpaw screwed his eyes closed, grunting as two heavy wings slammed onto his face. The pain was heavy and thick, but Crowpaw slipped through it until his teeth were lodged into the bird’s chest.

The creatures, fighting to be predator or prey, landed with Crowpaw’s jaws wrenching with delirious speed on the bird’s stomach. Feathers and blood were thrown into the air as Crowpaw ripped and ripped. The Hawk let out a sound it had never made, one of real horror, as its beating wings became more and more desperate. It twisted, its feet scratching wherever it could to find the dark-fur of its opponent. Cold pain seared Crowpaw’s flank, but he only bit down again, higher this time, his tail curling when he tasted hot blood.

How long had it been since he’d tasted blood?

Immediately, Crowpaw felt his muscles tense, his claws sprang out to pin the frantic wings, tearing down the fragile skin, fracturing ligament and muscle with every punching scratch. The bird screamed and bit at Crowpaw’s scruff, but the cat launched five claws over its face and it let go with a true cry of real, blood-curdling fear.

Crowpaw realised with savage electricity, that he was winning.

The hawk, realising far too late it had misjudged this battle, changed tactics. Its talons didn’t claw now, they tried to grip the cat, furiously attempting to drag Crowpaw off before he found its throat. It rocked frantically to loosen the cat from its blood soaking feathers. But Crowpaw knew this opportunity would never come again. He wasn’t going to let go, even if those talons found his own throat.

The only time Crowpaw did let go was when the hawk stopped shaking and instead used its damaged wings to roll over to its belly. Its large wings already straightening for takeoff. But Crowpaw was quick, and this bird had made a massive mistake in taking its talons from Crowpaw. As soon as he’d slid onto its back, Crowpaw was safe from the claws and beak. It was almost over.

Crowpaw groaned and bit down on its neck, where the head had to be connected to the spine. The hawk screamed, its body convulsing and large eyes bursting in pure agony. Blood coated Crowpaw’s tongue once more, and just to be safe, he dug his claws right into the base of the hawk’s wings, holding it down. Whether they were too damaged or weak, they slowly began to wither in their rabid twitches for survival.

Crowpaw, deep in his chest, realised that this was over.

But stubbornly the hawk continued to fight, dragging itself along with its weak talons or broken wings, even as Crowpaw bit down hard on its neck, hard enough to hear something crack. The tom let out a hiss as the hawk cried mournfully but continued to struggle. This wasn’t meant to happen. It should have been dead by now.

But it didn’t. Its body twitched along, its head craning out to a bush just ahead of them both, probably seeking the dark safety even as its back cracked behind it.

It was impressive but horrible all the same. Crowpaw bit on the neck again, horrified by how it clung to life despite its little hope. This wasn’t how hunting was meant to be. They hunted to be quick, they hunted to survive, this didn’t feel like hunting, this felt like slaughter.

But Windclan needed to eat all the same.

‘Die.’ Crowpaw thought as he bit and tore and shook. ‘Just die already.’

The hawk responded with a series of sounds that may have been the caw of a bird, but not one that any bird, any creature should make. It hissed and bubbled in the bird’s throat. Crowpaw felt it. For the love of Starclan, he felt it rattle out of the shivering beak. It eyes, glazing quicker and quicker, were wide but slow, blinking in jittering convulsions, still calling for the safety of the bush.

It wanted to live

Crowpaw wanted to scream.

With a needing, breaking yell, Crowpaw slid his claws over the Hawk’s thin, torn throat and ripped back.

With a rasping, wordless gasp that sounded too much like a mewling kit for Crowpaw’s liking, the hawk’s struggles relaxed, and its tattered head fell down stiffly onto the grass.

Blood slowly oozed out onto the shadow of the hill. The dirt did not soak it up, denying the gore, letting it flow down into a dark slide in the grass.

Crowpaw fought for his own breath as he stood triumphantly above his prey.

It should have been triumph anyway.

Didn’t feel like it.

He shook his head. That couldn’t start up now. Yes, it had been messy. But it was done. And prey was prey.

This was actually the largest prey he’d ever caught, this was a meal that would last Windclan for days, this was his chance of doing some real good for his clan, this was his reason for standing here.

Something he’d done mattered.

He looked over his own wounds, the wings had battered his head until it was shaking, and there were some deep gash marks along his flank that he needed to clean before they got infected. But other than that, he was remarkably well.

Much better than the blood-soaked, torn apart, ruin under his paws.

But more than ever, he was alive.

Tired, battered, and hungry, but alive.

So hungry.

Crowpaw’s tongue touched the blood on his lips, he couldn’t suppress a shiver. It tasted good. Good enough that his throat began to hurt at the idea of not tasting it again. He looked down at the hawk, thinking. It was a huge catch. If he took one bite, a small one, enough for him to get by, he could get the rest back to Windclan soon.

His joints ached, and his head spun like crazy. He needed to eat, even just a little.

Crowpaw gave the hawk a wane look. Just one tear off the wing. That would be enough for him.

Slowly, his own stomach cleanching, Crowpaw placed his teeth over the soft meat of the wing. He shivered as the sweet blood permeated his senses.

But then his ears twitched.

Almost angry at his meal, his victory, being disturbed, Crowpaw growled. But then he stopped and really listened. Something was letting out high, bristling squeaks. They cracked into the air pathetically, rustling the air with its light whimpers. Then the sound rustled as it doubled, then tripled, and then Crowpaw was sure he heard a symphony of tiny whelping ring around him.

They were coming from the bush.

The hawk’s head still stared at it lifelessly, but a longing melancholy still quivered in the draining colour of its eyes.

Crowpaw stared as the squeaking continued. The back of his head began to hurt again. His whole body felt cold.

With step after reluctant step, Crowpaw approached the bush, becoming more and more aware of the buzzing that came back to his ears.

He pressed his head in. Four pairs of black, terrified eyes glinted wetly back at him. The chicks, from the looks of their thin tufts of feathers, or the way they held their gaping mouths at him in either fright or hunger, could not have been born more than a day or two ago. They huddled together, some peeping helplessly at him under the darkness of their scrambled, hastily put together nest, the others just stared at him. Stared enough to hurt.

It took only a second for the desperation of the hawk to sink in.

With blank eyes, Crowpaw turned back to the hawk that had died to protect what it loved, the blood had now begun to pool around its head.

Another bloody body, another creature that had sacrificed itself to protect what it loved, flashed over Crowpaw’s eyes.

Once she had, everything seemed so much clearer to Crowpaw.

And he didn’t fight the hungry buzzing in his mind, rumbling, screaming, blaming. It stung, it ached, it swelled.

It reminded.

Sacrifice.

A sacrifice was why Riverclan had no cat to believe, a sacrifice was why the journey was tainted, a sacrifice was why the clans may not survive, a sacrifice was why Windclan was suffering, a sacrifice was why his clan could die.

A sacrifice was why his friends, the only one’s he’d ever really had, hated him.

He’d driven them away because he wanted, in his selfish need for reason, to be seen as important for his clan.

But the truth was, Windclan didn’t need him. They would live or die without him. They always would have. All he’d done returning, robbing Riverclan of a reason to leave, was further the dark towards his home’s destruction.

It was all his fault.

This was all he was.

Letting the buzzing attack his mind, and drown out the chicks’ cries for a mother that would never return, Crowpaw began to drag the hawk back. If this was the only good he could ever do, he should at least do it with some effort of care.

But was it good?

How tough could this hawk have been if an apprentice could kill it? It was weak and hungry, that was all. Any real warrior could do it. They probably could have brought themselves to catch the extra prey as well.

But those chicks’ had such familiar eyes.

The eyes of the weak, saved by the strong.

But what did it matter?

It was over now. Whether they were caught by him, or another cat, or a fox, or even if nothing came for them. Their deaths had been set in the dirt.

That was the cruelty of life. The reality that Crowpaw would do better to accept.

It didn’t matter how much creatures tried to fight nature.

Things that were meant to die? They always did. Someway or other.

Crowpaw would make sure of that.

With this realisation, with empty eyes and passing, silent breath, Crowpaw almost felt a shameful peace that made him blink away the tears so easily.

But he was unfit for peace, so he let the buzzing convince him into feeling nothing.

...

[dinpascal]

All a Game — Din Djarin

warnings: (18+) language/dirty talk, rough sex (piv), oral (m+f), hair pulling, orgasm denial, (kind of) hate sex (piv)  summary: As a fellow Mandalorian, you find yourself traveling with the bounty hunter and his kid despite the mutual dislike you seem to have for one another. Everything goes well (more or less), until he nearly gets both of you killed. He gets tired of your mouth. 

He was infuriating. 

Originally you had given him the benefit of the doubt, when it came to the (stupid) helmet debacle. If you had lived a certain way for the high majority of your life, your beliefs and sense of self completely and thoroughly twisted a particular way, it was difficult to simply step away from that when presented with something different — something that completely contrasted with what you staked your life on. 

In other, simpler words, the silver Mandalorian’s response to your face was as expected. 

However, as his arrogant and you’re-beneath-me attitude continued, the less patience you could continue to muster. He and his beliefs were superior to you just because he kept an oversized tin can over his head at at times? Don’t think so. 

You were just as much a Mandalorian as him. 

Nevertheless, here you were. Abandoning Bo Katan and the others for him and the little green bean foundling under his care and protection. While you argued it was for his sake, as no Mandalorian should ever stand alone, you knew it was primarily because of Bo Katan herself. While experienced and cunning, you grew tired of their quest you never saw happening — the retaking of Mandalore. It was a child’s dream. One you were no longer interested in entertaining.

Traveling with the nearly-mute Mandalorian held quite the learning curve. Neither of you were too thrilled with the other (considering the stark difference in beliefs), but there was enough respect for one another to quietly exist around one another. He would occupy himself in the cockpit doing whatever he did up there, while you fed the Child and listened to his cooing and babbling, occasionally offering your own opinions on subjects. You doubted his adopted father encouraged conversation much at all, given he wasn’t much of a conversationalist himself.

While the pair slept in their tiny, shared compartment, you were a few feet away in your own that he had (surprisingly) made out of another compartment that had originally been acting as some sort of storage. The little green bean would occasionally sneak out of his hammock and make his way to yours, often snuggling between your arms and snuggling his little body to your chest. 

The three of you fell into a strangely comfortable arrangement, until he agreed to a certain bounty that, apparently, required the both of you. While you were not too keen to the guns-for-hire career he had undertaken, you understood the need to survive and instead stayed behind to watch the little one while he was out. 

“I don’t understand who you could possibly be hunting that you can’t take on your own.” You had begun slipping your armor on, which had previously taken estate in your personal storage; there was no need to wear it when the majority of your time was spent in or near the Razor Crest. You could hear him rustling with something behind you, though you focused on the faded-scarlet color painted on your armor. 

“They want them alive.” He stated simply, as if those four words completely and thoroughly explained the situation. You turned towards him then, eyes already rolling and an annoyed look sent in his general direction. There were only a few things you missed when it came to traveling with Bo Katan and the others — one of, if not the most major, being conversation. 

“What about the little one?”

He glanced in the Child’s direction, currently drawing in his notebook he had been given when your companion had come across it in the shops of Tattooine. “He’ll be fine. No one will be able to come on board.”

You sighed. Of the few things you truly disliked about the Mandalorian, one of them was that he treated the little one as older than he truly was. It didn’t matter that he was soon hitting his 51st birthday. He was mentally as old as a two-year old child. He didn’t truly understand the difference between safety and danger. He was still trying to grasp the whole concept of using the vacc tube.

You must have pulled a face then, as you caught a muffled sigh and one of your blasters being pushed into yours hands. “The sooner we get them, the sooner we can return.” You imagined he held your gaze as you looked at him, his words offering a semblance of comfort and security. “Let’s go.”

With a nod, you tucked your blasters into their respective holsters and kneeled in front of the little one. He immediately softly cooed in greeting, head raising and ears flicking in your direction. He held a red crayon in one hand, seemingly drawing a big, red dust cloud. “Hey, green bean. You stay on the ship, okay? No opening the doors and exploring without us.” He released a sound you knew to be one of disappointment (the same one he made when you said dinner was over), ears and head dropping as if being scolded. 

You smiled and touched his hand, heart fluttering as his three fingers curled around one of your own. “Draw your daddy a pretty picture, okay? We have to fill the entire cockpit.” He squealed at the idea, head dropping and resuming his drawing without another sound.

The sound of the airlock hissing open is what eventually tore you away.

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“Will you shut up?”

Your chest heaved as you forced oxygen into your lungs, currently behind the cover of a large tree and the Mandalorian a few feet away, seemingly doing the same as his chest rapidly rose and fell. You sent him a glare that spilled nothing but poison, wishing more than anything that he could see your face through your visor. “You’re the one who didn’t know the stupid bounty had a crew! It’s one against twenty!” You hissed, doing the utmost to ignore the burning in your shoulder. One had managed to a blaster shot in the tiny space between your armor and knew blood was no doubt staining the inside of it. At the back of your mind, you begrudgingly noted you’d have to paint the pretty armor again, once safe and sound in the ship. It was a painstakingly slow process. 

The Mandalorian apparently didn’t feel that comment deserved a response, as he merely glanced from cover to the enemy before them. Their footsteps were nearing closer, close enough to hear the shouts they shared between one another.

“You’re insufferable!” You stood and dug into your pouch, eventually coming across the tiny discs you had developed yourself and tossing them about the bushes. If anything were on your side in your current predicament, it was the flush greenery the planet held. It didn’t matter your armor’s coloring was a stark contrast, it was cover nonetheless.

Your companion was forced to follow your lead, the sound of his blaster sounding off and quickly followed by screams of pain. As an ugly blue-colored Quarren neared you, you kicked out a foot to knock his knee out from under him. 

It was official. You hated the Mandalorian. 

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“You could have gotten us killed.” He dragged the body of the bounty behind him, knocked out cold and his arms cuffed. The two of you had hardly spoken on the way back to the ship, though there was no shortage of dirty looks (from you) aimed at the back of his helmet. 

Per usual, there was no response from him as the ramp for the ship descended. 

“All for what? A few hundred credits?” Discarding your helmet and tossing it aside, you watched as he froze the bounty in carbonite. It was official — talking to a wall was more entertaining than talking to him. “There are hundreds of different ways to survive! But no, you have to do this bullshit?”

Abruptly and suddenly, as quick as a flash of lightning, he was standing just a breath from you. “If this lifestyle isn’t good enough for you princess,” he spat, “Then, by all means, get the fuck off my ship.”

You stared into his visor for a moment, resisting the urge to take a step back and away from the aura of anger and distaste he was exerting. While you certainly weren’t his biggest fan in the galaxy, you weren’t ignorant. You were more than aware of how capable this man was. Nonetheless, you knew you’d be able to hold your own against him. 

“And leave the kid with you?” You laughed, briefly enjoying the amount of sarcasm it dripped. “He’d be dead in a parsec.”

“I seem to remember how completely fine he was without you.” If you were being completely honest, that one hurt. You’d grown so attached to the little swamp rat and the idea of him being fine without you around made your stomach turn. 

“You’re an asshole.” There was a brief sound of static before he laughed. As if you had told a fucking joke. He leaned even closer then, arm raising to lean his weight against the wall behind you. Briefly, the smell of leather and something untamed filled your every sense. It was intoxicating, you wanted to drown in it until it was seared in your very brain. 

“Yeah?” He questioned, helmet dipped so low you could feel the coolness on your forehead. “Say it again.” He dared, a leather-covered hand inching up until his thumb touched your throat. It was nothing but a touch, but a thousand goosebumps blossomed at the contact alone. 

“You’re an...” The breath whooshed from your lungs as the touch left your throat and down to your hip, spun one-eighty and chest suddenly pressed against the wall of the Razor Crest. A bite of metal stung at your back, his beskar pressing into the divot between your own. He remained painfully silent, though deft fingertips began to explore the crevice between your back armor and the waistband of your pants. “Asshole.”

Before the word was out of your throat and past your lips, the buckle that kept your back and abdomen armor was released and the red armor was left clattering to the floor. Large hands were shoving at your trousers until they were loose at your ankles, unsure of just what was happening until a hand roughly grasped your ass, so tightly you were positive fingerprint marks were left behind. 

His touch returned to your neck, pulling you against his chest and causing the back of your head to painfully clash against his helmet. “You and that fucking mouth.” He murmured darkly, his own hips pressing against your bare skin. His length strained against his own slacks, offering a sick kind of relief that was anything but. It was a promise, but one you weren’t truly sure he would give — you knew he was enjoying the torment he was putting you through. “I’m going to shove my cock into that pretty mouth and make you shut up for once.”

You made a small noise at the back of your throat, purposely shoving your hips further against him. “Then do it.”

Before you could blink, you were spun once more and a leg skillfully kicked your own out from under you until you were on your knees. His visor was tilted low enough to know he was watching you, his head tilting just enough to say, “well?”. 

Without another thought, you were unclasping his slacks and releasing his cock. It sprung free wholeheartedly, his tip swollen a deep red and so pretty and so much. 

As if able to hear your thoughts, you caught the faint sound of amusement from him before his fingers curled into your hair and wrenched your head upwards so you were forced to meet his unseen gaze. “I think this is the longest you’ve ever been silent since we met, an’edee.” He took a short moment to trace his thumb over the nape of your head, securely and effectively collecting your hair into his fist. “Now, suck.”

You didn’t argue, lips falling open just in time for the slight jar he gave to your head towards his dick. He pushed no further than past his tip, giving you ample time to explore and appreciate. You did just that with silent glee, tongue swiping slow and languid laps, beginning at his shift and slowly upwards. He remained silent as you continued your slow exploration, the only indication that was he remotely affected being the slight twitch of his fingers in your hair. 

You lifted a hand to stroke his length with a lazy admiration, pushing your spit where your mouth had yet to touch... Yet. He was torturously thick and as your fingers traced the pulsing vein on the underside of him, he twitched and it seemed to surge forward on its own volition. As if it was attempting to push even more blood into his dick just to reach your mouth faster.

Nevertheless, he remained eerily but characteristically silent. 

You took him in your mouth once more, daring to take that much more and gently caressing what remained. It was hardly more than a caress, but enough to keep him interested and wanting. You set a slow, but steady pace, ferociously ignoring the fiery blaze that licked at your own heat. 

He stood there, still clad in his untouchable armor and blasters still in their holsters — untouchable. It didn’t matter his cock was in your mouth. He was still as much as in control as ever. 

It became a game. You wanted him to react. You wanted him to fall apart. 

Your gaze flickered back up to him as your pace quickened, more than aware that his own had never wavered from the sight of his cock steadily pumping into your hot mouth. You didn’t need to see through his darkened visor to know.

Just as you moved to caress one of his balls, still partially shielded by his slacks, he caught your wrist in a near-painful hold. A displeased growl echoed through his helmet, ripping you away from him and to your feet. You couldn’t help the wicked grin that settled on your lips, swiping your own spit from your bottom lip with a thumb. 

“You want to tease?” He questioned, one hand roughly guiding you to the table he tended to use as a make-shift worktable, bending you over it with ease while his other hand swiped for something against the wall. It wasn’t until the lights flickered shut and the sound of heavy metal clashing against metal stung at your ears, that you knew what was happening. 

He gave no warning as his tongue flirted between your folds, causing your body to naturally tighten at the abrupt intrusion. It was too good, too much, when there was little warning beforehand.

He lapped eagerly, rotating from languid, deep strokes of his tongue and abrupt, sharp sucking at your sensitive, singing clit. What his intentions were were incredibly clear. This wasn’t soft love between two people who loved one another. He was going to fuck you and tease your every limit, and make you love every fucking second of it. 

Each time your body would instinctively jump away, either from a harsh nip at your sensitive thighs or it simply being too much at once, an unforgiving hand would tighten its hold on your leg and drag you back to his mouth. 

In a matter of minutes, with his facial hair sharply biting at your skin and his unrelenting tongue, you were keening. However, he refused you any kind of release. The moment your thighs tightened or breath quickened, he would make a soft sound of amusement and deter his movements until your body sagged in anything but relief. 

At the third or fourth rotation of the infuriating game, you finally caved. “If you don’t let me fucking cum, I’m going to—,” He cut you off before you could finish, lifting himself up until his lips were touching the shell of your ear. 

“I thought you’d learned.” He used one hand to lick his fingers, rewetting his tip while the other caught you around your throat. Mid-breath, he impaled you with one thrust, seemingly unable to help his own gruff groan. “To keep that pretty mouth shut.” He breathed, using his grip at your throat to drag you back down with each thrust. 

A soft sound spilled from you each time his hips met your pelvic bone, promising you’d feel him for days, each time you moved. His pace was unrelenting, hardly ever giving you the time to even realize he was gone before he was thrusting back in. 

His teeth nipped at your ear as he fucked you near senselessly, quickly and nearly effortlessly drawing the orgasm you’d been begging for once more. “You like this, don’t you? Being fucked like this.” A string of profanities fell from you then, so fucking close and wanting to cum so badly. If he were to give it to you, you would have given him anything. 

“Want to cum, pretty thing?” He questioned, the lewd sounds of your fucking only worsening as he continued. “Beg for it.”

You did so without question. “Please, please, please—” A sharp sound from your throat cut you off, just as his free hand circled your clit once and you swore you saw the heavens above. Your orgasm was ripped out of you, squeezing yourself so tight around him, his grasp on your throat loosened and his forehead fell against your shoulder. 

He came with a low grunt, pulling out from your warmth and spilling on your back. He stood unmoving for the faintest of moments, as if aware you still hadn’t returned to the present just yet. 

You released a shaky breath and touched your forehead to the cool metal underneath you. “Well, fuck Mando. You’ve been holding out on me.”

He instantly sighed and you imagined the curt shake of his head. “That fucking mouth.”