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viris-ocs · 5 months ago

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Ezra Van t' Schip (SYOC OC for Thunder Stone on FF.Net))

General Information

Name: Ezra Van t’ Schip

Nicknames: Skippy, Ez

Titles: Thunder Striker

Age: 24

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Sexuality: Gay

Birthday: July 4th

Appearance Information

Hair: Long, mid back length, brown hair parted in the middle with whispy curtain bangs, usually kept down but sometimes is put up.

Eyes: bright orange/amber, narrow in shape with an almost fox like mischievousness to them

Height: 5’8”, a bit on the shorter side

Body Build: he seems slim due to his loose fitting attire, and is quite limber, but also lean and with a good build. He's lived on a ship most of his life, you godda be able to pull weight. You'd be surprised with how strong he really is.

Skin Tone: Fair but tanned over time at sea

Distinguishing Features: He's got a couple of scars over his life in many places, most are small or medium from miscellaneous accidents. Though there's a very large and prominent burn scar covering his right shoulder, going up his neck and a bit onto his jaw, and all down his arm. There are two smaller burn scars on his back and his hip, all from the same event. His ears are pierced twice on each, with dangling gold on both, and has snakebites on his lips. On his non-burned arm is a sleeve tattoo of different coloured Japanese style (or Enca style in this universe lol) Peony patterns in remembrance of the people he's lost, one flower for every person.

Guild Mark: Cerulean blue under his left ear

Main Outfit: Ezra's attire is very true to him, and looks like proper pirate attire. He wears two shirts, the first one is a Carmine red left slightly unbuttoned, the second is off-white and left even more unbuttoned with ¾ sleeves, it's much more loose fitting and is tucked into high waisted wrap pants that are also loose fitting and gather at the calfs, typical pirate pants. The pants are a darker teal-blue colour and are held up by a cloth belt of the same colour, red cord, and many navy blue leather pouches. The pouches are decorated with tassels and miscellaneous golden decorations. He has navy heeled boots with golden heels, and will sometimes be seen wearing a very long navy jacket with golden thread details, and a lighter teal-blue inside. Though he tends to wear it only on his shoulders.

Winter Clothing:

Summer Clothing: He stays the same, but probably won't wear his coat and his white shirt will be around his waist.

Sleepwear: A loose fitting linen shirt and navy pants

Training Outfit: Same as normal outfit, but without the red shirt, leather satchels, and coat

Swimwear: Navy trunks and breezy pirate shirt

Formal Outfit: Pirate style linen shirt with poet sleeves tucked into high waisted navy pants with three buttons. His boots are brown with a bit of red and kinda long, and has a bit of triangular red cloth tied around his waist with a thick brown belt. He wears his coat off his shoulders and has the titular pirate hat that's navy blue and a big white Feather.

Other: (Any extra outfits or styles you would like to add.)

Personality Information

General Personality:

When you meet Ezra, you may have one of two assumptions about him. 1: He's a very helpful, reliable, and easygoing kind of guy. Or 2: He's a Mischievous, Scheming, Witty little liar. These two different assumptions depend on how observant the person is. If two people were lost in an unfamiliar town and Ezra offered to be their guide, the average one would see Ezra's physical and verbal openness and listen to his charming and sympathetic words and think that they're lucky to have run into him. The highly observant one would see Ezra subtly eyeing them as if building a mental profile, keeping a slight distance, and light soundless footsteps and keep their hand close to their weapon. They'd both hold their beliefs while Ezra showed them around town, even showing them some underground hidden gems for their troubles, before heading off to the train station. However when the two go to buy their ticket, they find that they've conveniently spent all their money at the shops. Stranded? Don't worry! Ezra can help with that, he even got you tickets at a discount, you'll just owe him a favor! Oh, you're from a guild? Even better.

As it turns out, both of these assumptions are true at the same time. Ezra is indeed helpful and reliable, if you ask him for help with something then he will help you efficiently and effectively, no laziness or half-assing it over here. But he can also get up to mischief. Not physically, at least not usually, he's not the kind to play pranks or such, but he does know what to say in order to get what he wants. He hides lies within half truths, he can charm, he can haggle, he always knows just the right words and what you need to hear. However don't confuse his manipulativeness with maliciousness, Ezra does not use his silver tongue for evil intentions, sometimes he just needs… favours. Favors can be more valuable than even the richest of riches if you play your cards just right, and Ezra likes to have a cash of favours on him at all times. He takes favours VERY seriously, and not keeping your word on a favour is akin to spitting directly in Ezra's face and disrespecting his entire character.

Ezra is a highly intelligent person, especially when it comes to people. He can look at a person and get an idea of their personality, their values, social status, wealth, and where they're from. He can read people's faces as easily as a children's book, and can tell what people are about to do before they do it. He's highly observant, and is very aware of his surroundings, though he often doesn't act like it. He'll often have a very relaxed and chill demeanor about him, being seen slumping into his seat, always leaning against something, or laying down on the roof (how did he even get up there?). He doesn't feel like he has to guard himself.

Ezra also loves a good adventure, a good challenge. It's his belief that a tough challenge is a part of the road to self improvement, so he always likes to go on missions that are on the tougher side. He doesn't like staying in one place for too long lest he starts to feel restless, so as much as he loves spending time with the guild, he can't stay there for any more than a week at a time. When he's injured there tends to have to be someone assigned to him to keep an eye on him and make sure that Ezra doesn't sneak back out before he's fully healed. A good adventure also needs a good story, and while Ezra can spin a good tale with all the theatrics you would expect, he's preferred method of story is through poetry. Ezra is a creative guy, and he has quite a way with words, so it's of no surprise that he started leaning towards the art form. When going on missions he will write a poem about the events that happen on then, usually accompanied by a sketch of something related. He's quite good at both, but gets very embarrassed if anyone sees them.

Words that I'd use to describe Ezra are - Clever, Intelligent, Playful, Helpful, Reliable, Mischievous, Perceptive, Intuitive, Social, Dependable, Efficient, Adaptable, Creative, Charismatic, Scheming, Morally Ambiguous, Manipulative

Likes:

▪︎ The Ocean

▪︎ Money

▪︎ Bargaining

▪︎ Freedom

▪︎ Antiques and treasures

▪︎ Going on missions

▪︎ Socializing

▪︎ Fancy desserts

▪︎ Seabirds and foxes

▪︎ Being up high

▪︎ Crab with garlic butter

▪︎ Having favours at his disposal

Dislikes:

▪︎ Being followed or otherwise intruded on

▪︎ Swamps

▪︎ Big spending

▪︎ People trying to scam him (seriously guys, it doesn’t even work! Why must you keep trying!?)

▪︎ Unwarranted cruelty

▪︎ Canned foods

▪︎ Drunkards

▪︎ Mice

▪︎ Getting stuck in one place for too long

▪︎ Owing too many favours to others

Hobbies: Chess, Darts, sketching, poetry (he's quite good at the last two, but is too embarrassed to share them)

Fears: Fire, quicksand, having people die for him.

Friends:

Rivals:

Respect:

Enemies/Hate:

Love Interest:

History Information

Where are they from: Ezra actually doesn't know where he's from, he was born to unknown parents in secret on a pirate ship called the Night Peony and then left there for the crew to find. He was then adopted by them, but was never told where exactly he was born. But Ezra doesn't mind, his home is the ship and that's good enough for him.

Why join Thunder Stone?: After his ship was destroyed, the captain, Enodia, told him that it was time to leave the nest and explore the world. For a while Ezra worked as an independent mercenary for money, but missed being with lots of people like his old crew. He didn't want to join a long standing guild and be the “new guy”, not wanting to be singled out, but lucked out when he heard of a new guild opening. He joined just a couple months in, and loves it there. Though he does think about his first home often.

Relevant People:

Barca Odyssey - Father figure - 53 - (Deceased)

Barca was a boisterous and confidant man, but very kind to the crew, and a bit of an enabler for their antics. He's super supportive, even with things that he probably shouldn't be, and always had everyone's back as a reliable guy. He was always impressing people with his slight of hand and ability to pick the pocket of anyone in the world. He was the Quartermaster.

Bright red hair and beard, very burly and 7 feet tall, dark blue eyes, gold tooth, fair skin

He had propulsion magic

Galiot Odyssey - Brother figure - 26 - (Unknown)

A mischievous and daring guy who was always challenging Ezra to friendly competitions. It was always entertaining with Galiot around, his unpredictable nature sure to always end with an adventure. He could always lie and haggle his way out of any situation without fail, and always got the best deals. Ezra was the only one who could see through him. He had no official roll on the ship.

Violet grey curly hair, tall like his parents, quite lean and strong, very light yellow eyes, a ocean wave sleeve tattoo, sienna skin

Enodia Odyssey - Mother figure - 54 - (Alive)

A commanding but altruistic woman who always listened to her crew. She is more Mellow than her husband, but just as confident. Intelligent and brave, her command and leadership over her ship was unquestionable. She was the Captain of the Night Peony.

Silver grey hair that's shaped like clouds, 6’1” and muscular, very light yellow eyes, eyepatch, bronze skin

She has wind magic

Kai - Friend/Shipmate - 30 - (Alive)

The Helmsman of the ship, he is a very friendly and talkative guy, very down to earth and always has a positive attitude. He always tries to take care of people, and will run himself ragged to do so.

Short blonde hair, average height, brown eyes, prosthetic leg above the knee, fair skin

He has no magic.

Moryana - Shipmate - 60 - (Deceased)

Was the master gunner of the ship, she was lazy and antagonistic, but only when she thought it was funny. Always did as told but not without complaining, unless it was about her guns and cannons then she turned very enthusiastic and firey.

Very long messy green hair, above average height, Violet eyes, sharp shark teeth, tan skin

She had no magic.

General History: (Just like with General Personality, I will need more description here. Again, it doesn’t need to be an essay, but it should be more than one paragraph. And again, if you would like to write something longer here, you can do that as well.)

Plot Points:

His current main goal is to gather enough Jewels to buy his adopted mother a new ship, or hire a team to build her a new ship. But in the meantime, I have a couple of ideas as to where his story could lead. I don't expect all of these to be done, and they're more suggestions than anything.

▪︎ Ezra is looking for the people who burned down his ship and are responsible for the deaths of most of his crew and family, but he doesn't want to get in trouble for just murdering someone, so when he does eventually find one he has to try and persuade someone to put a mercenary bounty mission out for them so he can take it. This path involves him finding and killing the people involved one by one, possibly finding out the reason as to why it was burn down, (whether it be due to misguided prejudice, or a legitimate reason)

▪︎ Ezra doesn't believe that Galiot is dead, since they never found his body and he knows that a guy like him was too strong to have been taken down like that. He's been taking lots of missions regarding any strange weather and lightning, organized crime, kidnappings, thugs for hire, anything that may have a connection to Galiot's disappearance. He's trying to put the pieces together

(What are your character’s goals? What would you like to see happen to them? Is there something they need to deal with from their past? This is so I know what sort of things the character will need to deal with or go through throughout the story.)

Magic Information

Magic: Sound Magic

Ezra's magic allows him to manipulate sound in a variety of ways. He can amplify it, making the sound waves more powerful, or subdue it, making them subtle. He can make the frequency higher or lower, he can make the sound louder or quieter, he can even eventually mimic sounds that he hears like a sound board.

Spells:

▪︎ Super Sonic

Ezra manipulates the sound waves to make them more powerful and volatile, something that often ends with an explosion. The power of the sound is dependent on the sound itself, as louder sounds will become more powerful than normal sounds.

▪︎ Subdue

A reverse of Super sonic, Ezra manipulates the sound waves to become more dormant. He tends to use this technique as essentially a cancel button for Super Sonic.

▪︎ Pitch Perfect

Ezra uses his magic to manipulate the frequency of a sound, either making it higher or lower. Higher frequencies are dangerous due to their ability to damage the tissue of your ear by heating it up, it also heats up your body temp and causes damage to your inner ear that can cause headache, tinnitus, fatigue, dizziness, nausea, and hearing loss. Low frequency noise on the other hand has the unique effect of causing extreme annoyance and irritation, as well as a lack of concentration, headaches, unusual tiredness, and pressure on the eardrum (like on airplanes).

▪︎ Megaphone

A simple spell, Ezra manipulates sound to make it louder and more effective over a wide area. Good for getting attention or passing on a message to a large group of people from a distance.

▪︎ Mute

Another simple spell that's the opposite of Megaphone, Ezra manipulates the sound to make it quieter. This is a good spell for stealth, or making guild mates stop talking (or possibly for stopping mages from casting spells by stopping their chanting.)

▪︎ Banshee

A spell that combines elements from Super Sonic, Pitch Perfect, and Megaphone. Ezra manipulates the sound of his own scream to be a three in one combo attack. Super Sonic causes his enemies to be blown back, Pitch Perfect changes the frequency to make them stunned, and Megaphone makes it have a louder and wider area of effect. It has the unfortunate side effect of giving him a sore throat, and using it too many times will cause him to lose his voice.

Spells to Learn:

▪︎ Mimic

Ezra combines multiple techniques from multiple spells to mimic sounds that he's heard before. That can be from a monster call, an explosion, or another person's voice. Of course finding the right combinations takes some time, so every time he has to learn a new sound he can't just bust it out right after hearing it.

▪︎ Sonar

Much like how bats use high frequency to make echo-location, Ezra uses the same principle to map out his unseen surroundings by clicking the roof of his mouth. It has the side effect of giving him a headache.

▪︎ Blackout

Similar but inverse to Banshee, Ezra combines elements from Subdue, Pitch Perfect, and Mute to create an area of complete audio sensory deprivation, aside from a very low frequency outside the human spectrum that causes extreme nausea, fatigue, and irritation.

Weapons:

▪︎ A long black leather whip that he attaches to his side. He uses the whip itself to attack enemies, whipping them and grabbing them to either pull them closer or stopping them from getting away. But he also combines it with his sound magic, as the crack of a whip is loud enough to break the sound barrier, which is perfect for his magic. He can enhance the sound to make it even more powerful, making an explosion without heat or flame, or even making the sound travel and turn it from a mid ranged weapon to a long ranged weapon.

▪︎ Flintlock Pistols, two of them to be precise. Though he doesn't use bullets, he uses the sound from the explosion as a sound bullet essentially. When using the pistols they are quite loud, and Ezra can manipulate the sound to create powerful sound bullets. They are far more accurate and compressed than the whip, but are less powerful lest he risk breaking his pistols. One of his pistols he wears on his belt with his whip, but the other is hidden within his pants or jacket in case something happens to the first one. The best truth is one hidden within a lie.

Equipment:

▪︎ Gloves. Ezra has short black gloves that he wears on missions that have small metal plates on the thumb, index, and middle fingers, lower palms, and knuckles. These gloves are in case Ezra has to be in close range combat, as he is much more proficient in Mid ranged combat. They are made so that he can attack by snapping his fingers, causing a small burst of high frequency sound to confuse enemies. If they are wearing anything hard like armor, metal or stone then he can punch them to cause an explosion, or punch a building/ground to force them back. He can also clap to do either or, change the frequency or cause an explosion.

▪︎ boots. The heels of his boots are metal, and he uses them in a similar, though more limited manner to his gloves. They only work if the thing he's kicking against is hard in order to make noise, so they cannot be used in that way in like, a forest or the beach or something. (Unless he like, takes off his boot and just fuckin’ chucks it at them)

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Miscellaneous Information

Housing:

Of course, Ezra takes full advantage of the dorms the guilt has to offer. His room has a bed, a nice one even that's decorated with nice sheets and blankets, pillows, hanging curtains, all nautical themed of course. But 99% of the time he ends up sleeping in the hammock he set up on the other side of the room. It's closer to the window and he likes to look out to the water when he wakes up and falls asleep. He has an authentic navigator’s desk made of cherry and maple wood that he bargained down to a steal of a price at an antique shop, still in tip top condition. There are a couple of maps of different places and water bodies all over, some on the walls and some he's still in the process of making himself. There's a tiny model ship in a bottle that was gifted to him for a birthday (he rolled his eyes and laughed at the hilarity of it, but still took the time to make it and set it up). There's a large banner over his bed, one of his ships flags, or one that survived the fire. It's a violet burgundy colour with the typical pirate cross swords, but instead of a skull it's a Peony. Behind the flower is a black circle with a white ring around it, looking like the moon eclipsing the sun. Under his desk is a magically locked chest filled with all the jewls that he's saving for Enodia.

Other: (Anything else you would like to add about your character? This could be any extra quirks or fun facts or quotes, etc.)

Theme Song(s):

▪︎ Melodrama

Voice Actor: (Optional)

Acknowledgement:

You can do literally anything you want to him, and a-Ok with it all.

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crazybutgood · 3 years ago

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Day 10 (lou-isfake)

Last but certainly not the least, we have a gift dedicated to @lou-isfake from @sky-is-torn!

Please click on the images for better quality and view the video for the quotes inside the book 😊:

Images’ description: in the image on the left, there’s a closed green origami book with ‘lou’ handwritten on the cover in cursive in black ink. In the image on the right, the book is opened to show its pages and a pink origami flower bookmark.

Video description: the book is flipped through to display the quotes handwritten in cursive in gold ink from Lou’s fics. The quotes shown here are also typed out below the cut.

Lou, here’s Sky’s fic recs and messages to you!:

The Ordeal of Being Known (M, 146637)

When Auror Potter is anonymously cursed with silence by being forced to hide his own voice inside his mind, there's unfortunately only one person in the country with the qualifications to fix it: Certified and Licensed Healer Legilimens, Draco Malfoy, specialist in Mind Curses and Afflictions. It's obviously a terrible idea, a disaster waiting to happen, but Draco's never been able to back down from a challenge... especially from Potter.

Features fuzzy cartoon slippers, devious house elves, 90s music, and lots—LOTS—of memories. Ron is annoyingly hot, Hermione sees right through you, Harry is a powerful idiot, and Draco is a reclusive masochist that would buy an entire city if it would make a kid happy. (And Pansy is "5'2, I wanna dance with you, and I'm sophisticated fun.")

This fic is how I discovered Lou in the first place; their first fic, a novel-length story with an amazing plot! The premise is certain to take you in immediately and the way Lou incorporated Harry’s memories into the story is so clever and interesting! It incorporates canon in an entirely unique way, one that works so well that it feels like Harry Potter was simply a premise for this fic! Fair warning that this might make you lose sleep (but then, it’s totally worth it!) Each character has depth and little mannerisms that make them realistic! Draco’s voice in particular is witty and funny, the descriptions are tainted with his emotions, his feelings, it’s so entertaining! Oh and the pining, the pining! It’s out of this world! The entire story is so well-written as to become unforgettable – the dance scene in particular lives freely in my mind, playing on a loop <3 And it’s so cleverly done that you could read it a million times and always find new things to love, new layers to discover!

Here is the playlist made by Lou with songs to listen to while reading: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Tj4I1UssvCmd2Qwpo1auY?si=4566ee2c942047ed

Weapon of Choice (T, 25641)

Sir Malfoy is in need of a sword. The blacksmith isn’t supposed to ask why.

Medieval fantasy stories are my favourite, so it’s no wonder that I fell in love with this story! It has all the best threads of an epic fairy tale, with magic and intrigue and romance all woven together into a masterpiece! Lou weaves an entire world before our eyes, giving new colours to characters we discover in new lights! The way the plot unfolds is so clever and full of suspense, I couldn’t put the story down!

A playlist I made with songs I think would work well with the mood of this story: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4QfmEys580TXSGDFmL0MIt?si=5b8b95633b94472b

This Heart on My Sleeve (M, 1171)

It’s a hopeless ordeal, all at once: I am never going to be rid of him; I am never going to have him; it is always, always going to hurt.

This short story contains just the right balance of angst and pining! Each sentence is beautifully crafted, and oh-so-poetic, it’s a pleasure to read it, each time I find a new detail to focus on! The alternating POVs turns this scene into a cinematographic experience, it really feels like the camera changes angles and we see the scene in an entirely new light!

Another playlist I made with songs I think would fit the vibe (including the song that inspired this story): https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5mr83Bmtw7hYWDVxG6BTxp?si=aa2bf568e3954eb9

Go leave some love for Lou on these fics, and check out their ao3 here! Book’s quotes and corresponding fics are below the cut:

The Ordeal of Being Known (M, 146637)

I am not who I was, he reminded himself, but who I was is part of who I am.

Weapon of Choice (T, 25641)

"“I see you, Draco,” Harry continued, and Draco didn’t argue that, because he could feel it. He felt Harry’s eyes on every inch of his skin and through it, peering into his heart as if Draco hadn’t spent the last several years locking it away. As if it’d been right in front of him, the whole time, out in the open."

This Heart on My Sleeve (M, 1171)

“I know how the story ends, but I still feel the shards of it under my skin when the barber offers to buy him dinner to apologize for his blunder, when one licentious night turns into two passionate weeks followed by a tearful goodbye on a train, their paths never to cross again. “Most expensive haircut I’ve ever had,” he says, like I knew he would, but he’s looking at me—he’s always looking at me—and the shards twist, scratching like claws against the wall of a cage.”

#book 10 #gifted to #lou-isfake #from #sky-is-torn #author appreciation origami project #cbg folds #origami #mine #fic rec #drarry #harry potter #playlist by lou #playlist by sky #q

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catreginae · 3 years ago

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Thou Shalt Not Fall: Warrior's No Good, Very Bad Day

Warriors has to face one of his biggest foes - the sun. Sorry if this is a mess, I just wanted to get it out.

[Previous] - [Next]

View the Master Post here!

Warriors was having a bad day.

First, he couldn't justify wearing his usual tunic, undershirt, and pants. While he was happy enough to be a fleshy meat shield, it meant that his clothes were always in rough condition. He could regenerate no problem, which most of them would argue was the most important thing, but just because he healed really well didn't mean his clothes were fine. They were torn and covered in his own blood constantly. If he wasn't covered in his blood, he was covered in monster blood. He ran out of the right colours to fix his clothes and he was hesitant to wash them before he got a chance to repair the tears first.

His other two green tunics were also in much of the same condition – covered in blood and tears and with no thread for repairs.

So, he was in one of his spares that he had yet to wear around the others – a purple tunic and black under clothes. He kept his chain mail and even though his scarf still had a little bit of blood in it, it was relatively whole. If he could wear the scarf, he was going to wear the scarf.

Second, they had a lead for possible infected monsters not too long after they found themselves in Wild's era. Usually he didn't mind Wild's era – the constant rain meant less sunshine, and less sunshine meant less painful, peeling burns. Sure, everybody complained about the rain, but he would rather be wet than burnt. He wouldn't be surprised if he was the only one who thought about the lack of sunburns when the rain was coming down. It wasn't the rain that was the problem though.

It was the fact the monsters they did find were milling about in some very unsteady looking platforms in the middle of a lake that seemed to be made entirely of mud. There was a tower in the mud and that looked to be the only thing that was easy to climb... if anybody could get to it. It was a logistical nightmare that made most of the group switch to long range weapons, picking off what they could from the bit of solid ground they could get access to. Warriors used his powers to jump from platform to platform, and Wild joined him because it was clear this wasn't his first time clearing a bunch of monsters out of this particular location.

The battle was nearly over when a moblin's club knocked him off the platform he was standing on, straight into the mud below. He yelped in surprise, then found himself letting out a chain of curses when he realized he couldn't get out. The mud came up to his arm pits and it was fairly thick, so even with superhuman strength, he couldn't wade through it. There wasn't anything he could grab onto to pull himself out of it either. He was truly stuck.

“Wars! You alright?” Sky called out. He was surprisingly loud until Warriors remembered that the primary method of communication in the skies of Skyloft seemed to be a mixture of hand signals or just yelling. Some sort of semaphore would have been handy on the back of a loftwing, but Sky's yelling did have its uses on land, like when you're looking for your vampire friend and said vampire friend has sensitive hearing.

“Stuck!”

Sky shouted his response back and that was enough to get Legend and Wild on the scene.

“Really? Your special vampire powers can't get you out of there?” he asked with a smirk.

Warriors responded by grabbing a handful of mud and lobbing it right into Legend's face, laughing when Legend squawked. Oh, he wasn't that great of an archer, especially compared to Wild, but he was always pretty good at throwing things. It was one of the reasons why he was popular with the village kids growing up – he could play a good game of catch. Those memories felt much older than they actually were.

Legend wiped the mud off his face. Sky couldn't hold in his laughter anymore and doubled over. Wild jumped out of the blast zone, grinning widely.

“You fucker!”

“Mud's good for your skin!”

Legend approached the edge of the mud lake but before he could put his hands in to fire back, Warriors nailed him with two more mud balls, getting his chest both times. He was surrounded by mud. He had the tactical advantage.

“This is rigged! Not fair!”

“Okay, okay, that's enough,” Time mumbled as he made his way to the edge of the mud pool. “How do we get him out of there?”

“Not with his vampire powers,” Legend muttered. Warriors hit him with another mud ball.

“I have an idea,” Wild said, taking out his slate. He tapped on it and held up in front of his face. “Perfect. He's wearing his chain mail.”

Before Warriors could ask why that was a good thing, aside from the obvious of reducing the amount of regenerating he needed to do, he was struck by an orange light. It was painless but he could feel a strange, tugging sensation. His body jerked forward slightly and it wasn't him doing that.

“Uh, Wild?”

Suddenly, his stomach jumped when another tug suddenly sent him flying towards Wild before he was forcibly stopped, though he was still floating in the air. Wild, with his weird slate, settled him on the ground after that and the orange light disappeared. It was only then did Warriors get a moment to actually think. While he had no idea what Wild actually did to get him out of there, and why Wild could save everything but his boots – his poor boots! - he kind of wished he was still floating.

Vampires, the real vampires and not the half-assed kind of vampire he was, could fly and float. The ones he knew didn't do it often, but they did it enough to prove that they could. For a brief moment there, he could pretend he was a real vampire.

“What was that? Can you use it on me?” Wind asked, his eyes lighting up. He supposed everybody saw that then.

“Magnesis. I can pick up and manipulate metal objects with my slate and since Warriors was wearing his chain mail, there was enough metal on him to pick him up. I didn't think he would go flying like that though.”

“So if I had chain mail...”

“Then I could use it swing you around in the air too!”

Warriors sat up, only half-listening to the ensuing conversation as he focused on the amount of mud covering his person. It was going to take forever to get all the mud out.

Warriors waited until it was dark out before he shed some of his muddy clothes – his tunic, his scarf, and his undershirt. He wasn't quite ready to shed his pants and walk around in nothing but his undergarments and cloak while the others were awake. He wasn't very interested in any comments about his wardrobe or lack of it, especially since his wardrobe was a mess because he was fighting monsters.

The idea was simple – wait for the mud to dry, then beat it out his clothes. Once most of his clothes were on the ground, he gathered them up and threw them to Wild who was sitting in a tree so he could straighten them out to dry on the branches.

He sighed as he joined the others. It would take hours for the mud to dry, maybe longer since there wasn't much of a breeze to speed up the process. He would also need time to get the mud off when it was dry and then he had wash out any stains that might have set in. In other words, his spares wouldn't be ready come morning, when he needed them the most. His other outfits still needed repairs before they could be washed.

He was left to one outfit. One outfit that he didn't even know why packed. He shuddered.

Warriors took third watch to get changed while nobody was around to witness the atrocity he was putting on. Shorts that were... a little short. They came with a matching, white, sleeveless shirt. He had sandals that criss-crossed half up his calves. The outfit was a joke, and given to him as such during his brief stint as a messenger between captains on the training grounds during his trainee days. He didn't bring the hat or the stupid flag they gave him, but for some reason, he brought everything else.

The only saving grace was that he had the cloak that he the others gave him. He didn't wear it everyday but he found himself turning to it on particularly sunny days, or when he realized that the path they were following didn't have enough shade. It protected his face and arms and went down just behind his knees. He found that it even helped his eyes, since sunny days made his eyes sting sometimes. The fact that even his eyes were sensitive to the sun somehow didn't even occur to him before.

The only problem was that his calves would be exposed since his cloak didn't go down enough and his sandals were probably going to give him blisters by the end of the day, but it would have to do. It wasn't like he could walk around barefoot. He dug through his bags and found the lotion that Artemis gave him to help protect his skin and found that there wasn't nearly enough to cover his legs so he put it back.

He was doomed.

Warriors spent the entire morning hissing at everybody who dared make a comment about his current outfit, or lack thereof. He used the scary hiss too, the one that came from deep his chest and hurt his throat a little but apparently, it wasn't scary enough for the rest of them. Were they getting used to the hissing? Time made them all drop the subject and that was the end of that.

It wasn't as though he was insecure about his looks. He thought he had great legs. However, having so much skin exposed made Warriors anxious and he wanted nothing more than to just cover himself up and bunker down. He could already feel his legs burning, no matter how much he tried to hide behind the others and stick to their shadows.

He laughed bitterly when he thought of something that probably would have done an decent job of protecting his overly sensitive skin – mud.

A couple of hours after they stated travelling, the burning sensation in his legs began to become more painful than he could handle. He chanced a look down to his legs and nearly gagged at the sight of the yellow, bubbling blisters that were all over the front of his calves. What wasn't blistered was red and strangely pitted, likely blisters that were only just starting to form. For as bad as his legs looked, Warriors was relieved to find that none of his skin was charred like he would see with a burn from fire but he was sure if he stayed out longer, that was coming.

“Wars? What's the hold up?” Four asked before following his line of sight and jumping back. “Oh. Oh shit.”

Oh shit. Yeah, that about summed it up.

“Four?” somebody asked.

“We gotta stop. Vampire thing!”

Vampire thing. What was his life anymore that 'vampire thing' was a perfectly valid reason for their group to stop travelling? It was even understood that 'vampire thing' was basically another way of saying 'Warriors needs help and he should have said something earlier'. Okay, maybe not the last part, but it was enough to alarm the others.

“What vampire-” Time started, but stopped himself once he got a good look at his legs. “Hyrule!”

What a disaster. The last thing Warriors wanted was to be in the centre of attention because his legs were practically on fire. Time tried to direct him to sit in the shadiest spot he could find, but the sunlight still filtered through the canopy of the tree he was sitting under and Warriors could still feel the sun on his legs. Hyrule came over and frowned, his eyes focused on the blisters.

“I think I can heal some of it.”

“Only some?” Warriors squeaked.

“I don't think my magic will do much on the bigger blisters,” Hyrule said with a frown. One of hands hovered over his legs and started to glow. The magic felt even cooler than usual and with his legs feeling so warm, it was pleasant. “I will heal what I can, then we should wrap everything that's been exposed.”

Warriors groaned in response but he supposed there wasn't much else that could be done.

“Will drinking blood help?” Time asked.

“Can't hurt.” He never tried blood for sunburns before. Usually, Hyrule got frustrated with his burns and healed them before he started craving blood. With the cloak, he barely burned anymore, assuming he had proper pants on.

He focused on watching the redness and the weird pitted texture his skin adopted disappear under Hyrule's glowing hands. He was seemingly correct about the bigger blisters though – they seemed to be a bit smaller but definitely weren't going way. Wild came by with a flask full of blood so he busied himself with drinking blood while Hyrule started wrapping his legs and Time helped by removing the straps of his sandals.

When it was all said his done, his legs were wrapped with thick layers of bandages that felt, well, strange. The sandals couldn't go back on over the bandages, so he was stuck riding on Epona's back until they reached a suitable campsite. He felt a little bad for making everybody carry more bags but they all insisted he ride on Epona. He was a little nervous at first, seeing as animals didn't usually like him, but she didn't react whatsoever. Epona was calm in his presence but Warriors wondered if it was because she was well trained or if it was because Twilight was still holding onto the reigns.

“Sorry for teasing earlier. I... kind of forgot about the whole 'can't be the in the sun' thing,” Twilight mumbled.

Warriors didn't blame him. He hadn't had many issues with sunburns since they got him a cloak, so it wasn't a surprise to him that it slipped their minds. It didn't help that he just hissed and didn't explain why his current attire bothered him so much.

“It's fine. It's not up to you guys to keep track of all my vampire bullshit.”

“What do you mean? Of course it is. You're our friend and ally, we should be paying attention to all the things that might affect your health. You're a big dumb ass, you know that? How many times do we have to tell you that we care before you start to believe it?”

He wasn't sure if he ever could. It seemed pretty unbelievable that there were eight people who knew he was a vampire and just didn't care about it whatsoever, even though they really should be more cautious around him. He held them back when he woke up in the late afternoon, he had the potential to lose control, and they had to put up with all the blood stuff. It made him wonder if it was a dream and he just didn't wake up from it yet. His silence was all the answer Twilight needed.

“You know what? We're going to work on that. I'm going to throw you to Wind, Hyrule, and Sky, and you'll never escape until you know how much we care about you.”

Warriors chuckled. “I appreciate that you guys don't care that I'm a vampire. It's just unbelievable. It takes some getting used to.”

Twilight's smile fell. “Does nobody in your era know? Aside from Time.”

“There are some,” he answered. Lana, Proxi, Artemis, and Impa all knew. He also had all the vampires in his era, who would welcome him with open arms if he got tired of trying to pretend he wasn't a vampire. There were also the displaced fighters, of course. Yeah, people knew. He just never talked to them about his vampirism. He barely talked to the vampires. He just didn't want to acknowledge it. “I just didn't talk to them about it.”

“I get it. It takes time to undo all the secret-keeping behaviours.”

Warriors nodded with a frown.

“Like I said though, we'll work on it.”

Warriors wondered if it would work.

#catreginae: thou shalt not fall #linked universe #linked universe fanfic #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu wild #lu legend #my writing

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doodler-jpeg · 4 years ago

Text

Life [Wilbur Soot/Fundy]

BOOOM HI HELLO HOW ARE YOU UH UM SO I WAS INSPIRED WHILE I WAS BORED AND THEN THIS IS HOW THIS ONESHOT CAME TO BE. ITS NOT GOOD, BUT ITS DECENT. You’re gonna be taking Sally’s place so, uh, I’m sorry, Sally, you’re just another salmon. Still love you though THIS TOOK SO LONG TO MAKE DEAR GOD ITS BEEN IN THE WORKS FOR LIKE A MONTH LMAO

ALSO, KEEP IN MIND THIS IS C!WILBUR/SMP!WILBUR

⚠️CUSSING, AFAB READER, PREGNANCY, THIS IS A REALLY LONG ONE SHOT OH MY GOD, PLATONIC FUNDY RELATIONSHIP SO YEAH⚠️

Pronouns: she/her or they/them [you’re referred to as wife, mom,, that stuff, but you can change those if you want]

You hummed as you strained out your clothing beside the river near your home. A smile graced your face, [Eye Colour] eyes glinting happily in the warm sunlight of that fine summer day. Autumn would soon turn the land into a seemingly barren wasteland, though, so you decided to savor every last bit of happiness the hot days brought you.

Hanging the large amount of clothing upon thin clothing lines, you dumped out your bucket and made sure nothing got in the lake. Walking back inside of your home, you set the buckets in the corner of the cozy cottage and walked back outside. Your brown boots thudded quietly against the cobblestone path that lead into the woods around your home that would eventually be covered in snow.

A sudden childish giggle made you turn to the fields that were a ways away from your house, right in front of the sparsely scattered trees to the right of your little house. You furrowed your brows in confusion as a blur of yellow, white, and red rushed over to you.

“Hello there.” You couldn’t help but stare as the child looked up at you silently. “What are you doing here, little one?” He only blushed, his face flushing a vivid red before he ran off. You shrugged and continued your trek into the forest.

You watched as flakes of snow fell delicately onto the muted green coloured grass, bundled tightly in a burrito of quilts that you and your mother has made together. You shuffled slightly from your position on your warm bed, closing your eyes as you waited for sleep to consume you.

It seemed life had other plans, though, as a faint light came toward your home, edging closer and closer until you could make out a figure, their clothing a great contrast to the paw snow. They were shivering visibly, clutching their arms as their lantern shook in their hand.

You frowned as you peeled your blankets off of you, pulling your boots on quickly. Grabbing a lantern cage, you lit the candle inside of it and hurried outside, feeling nervous as the figure hurried over to you.

Soon enough, they were standing in front of you, a miserable look on their face, their eyes red and puffy as their teeth chattered together.

“Come inside,” you didn’t care for introductions or your safety. This person seemed nice. “I’ll start a fire. Uh- there should be a few blankets on the sofa. Would you like anything to drink? Warm milk, tea? I’m not gonna offer coffee because it’s late, so I’m sorry about that.”

“Just water, please,” they croaked out. “I’m sorry for the intrusion. I was headed off in search of territory to claim. Turns out I chose the wrong day. God, it’s cold.” You let out a quiet laugh as you carefully tossed some wood into your fireplace, lighting the material on fire. Almost immediately, the flames grew and you sat up, placing your flint and steel on the fireplace mantle.

“I’ll go get you your water. Go warm up.” You urged before you walked into the kitchen to get the brunet some water.

““And then Tommy ran off!” Wilbur howled with laughter as he told the story of how he managed to lose his father in the forest close to his family home. ““Phil was looking for us for hours!” You smiled at the story as you carefully sewed up your friend’s heavy coat, making sure the patches were relatively the same colour as the rest of the jacket.

“You never really tell me about your family, so why are you telling stories now?” You commented, threading the needle in your hand through the fabric and back out of it, pulling the thread tightly. You snipped it with your scissors, placing the needle down to look for any other holes as Wilbur flushed a bright red.

“W-well— one day, I want you to meet my family, so- this sounds so fucking stupid. Never mind, forget about it.” He covered his face in his hands as you bummed, picking up a patch and laying it out on the brown fabric.

“What you’re saying is that you would introduce me to your family because you like me that much, huh?” No answer came from Wilbur, though he did let out a flustered groan as you chortled.

You placed a kiss upon your new boyfriend’s cheek, causing the brunet to laugh as he shrunk away from your lips

“Stop it,” you only grinned at the man, kissing various areas of his face in retaliation. Wilbur laughed harder, pushing you away gently as his face scrunched. ““It tickles!”

You grabbed his face in your hands and he looked into your eyes for a moment before you began attacking his face with kisses. When you pulled back for a break, Wilbur copied your actions from earlier and rubbed his thumb across your cheeks with a smile. He leaned his forehead on yours and let out a breathy sigh, closing his eyes as he basked in the moment.

“I love you so fucking much, [Y/N].”

““Dont be scared, darling,” Wilbur mused as he gently rubbed his thumb in circles on the back of your hand, lightly squeezing every few rotations. “Techno’s made sure to keep any weapons away and Tommy might be a little less wreckless. I’ll make sure to tell them during dinner.” You nodded uncertainly, playing nervously with the bracelet Wilbur had made you way back when the two of you first started as friends.

Wilbur rapped his knuckles on the door, his other hand never once letting go of yours as the two of you waited. A bit of shouting was heard through the door, slightly muffled, though it was evident that it was coming closer.

The door was flung open by a blond boy, his blue eyes shooting us to meet Wil’s not even a second after he opened the door. A grin was on the boys face as he turned and shouted for Phil [who Wilbur had told you was his father]. Soon enough, a blond man with a bucket hat trodden over, frowning at Tommy.

“Listen, motherfucker, you may be living here, but I’m not gonna fucking let you live if you keep fuckin shoutin.” You froze nervously and glanced over at your boyfriend. He just sent a small, awkward smile onto reassure you before he turned to look down at the two.

“Are you really gonna argue in front of my wife?” Wilbur piped in, feeling himself become giddy as Tommy and Phil shot their heads over to look at you.

“You brought a girl over?!” Tommy yelled in surprise as he stumbled back, eyes wide as he observed your movements skeptically.

“Wil? Can you come over here real quick? I just need to talk to you.” Phil forced a smile as he grabbed the taller man’s ear and yoinked him over to a different room, leaving Tommy and you alone.

“Hi,” you smiled nervously, raising a hand in a half assed wave.

“Do you happen to be American?” The blond asked, leaning his face over to stare at you.

“I mean- I’m a water nymph. I don’t really know if that counts because we usually just have different accents, but we never take into account where anyone’s from.” You laughed, scratching your cheek.

“Well where are you from?” Tommy urged, crossing his arms.

“To be specific, I came from the North Sea right by the Netherlands. I don’t really think that’s important though.” You shrugged.

“So you’re Dutch? Speak it.”

“Im not necessarily Dutch, I was just born in the North Sea, Tommy- I think you’re a Tommy. You seem like a Tommy.” You cleared up, ““The only reason I learned English was to communicate with certain humans.”

“Okay.” The boy sighed, shoulders slumping forward as you let out an amused chortle, “I’ll leave you alone. For now.” Tommy backed up, turning into a room while a big, burly pig person ducked under the doorway, a large sword in hand and an uninterested expression on his face. As he turned to the door, he spotted you and his eyes widened momentarily before going back to their half lidded position.

“Who’re you? Phil didn’t- oh. Oh, today was that day. Oh my god, how could I forget it?” The hybrid smacked his forehead harshly, ““I’m so sorry.”

You laughed, waving your hand dismissively as the pig moved to the side to let you in. You carefully stepped into the warm house and the tall hybrid closed the door behind you.

“Dinner’s nearly done, so you can go sit down in the living room. If you need anything, Phil has ears all over the place. Just look at those crows.” Techno motioned over to the few crows that perched themselves on the window, letting out quiet caws. You waved at the birds and they flapped their wings in response.

“They seem nice.”

You sat next to your husband, hand intertwined with his as Phil smiled over at the two of you.

“So, anything new happening with you two?” The blond man inquired, placing his hands on the table.

““I mean,” Wilbur laughed, turning over to look at you. “Would you like to tell them, dear?” You nodded, a grin on your face as you sat as straight as you could.

“I’m pregnant,” you said, your voice surprisingly calm. Tommy let out a shocked ‘‘what the fuck??’, while Techno choked on his food, slamming a fist onto his chest.

Phil was quiet, eyes wide in shock as he took in the information.

“Pregnant? With Wilbur’s kid?” You nodded, swinging Wilbur’s hand as Tommy cheered.

“Im gonna be a fuckin uncle! Yeah! I’ll be the best damn uncle ever!” He cackled, leaning back as Techno snorted.

““Can I teach them PvP?” You and your husband glanced over at each other before shaking your head.

“Maybe when they’re old enough to know what they’re doing.”

““Hello, my precious baby,” you cooed gently, holding the newborn as they let out a quiet sigh. ““My baby. You look just like your father.” A warm but tired smile was on your face as your baby opened their eyes, brown meeting [Eye Colour].

“Love, is the baby okay? Is she doing alright?” Wilbur called nervously through the door, to which you laughed.

“Yes, they’re doing great,” placing a gentle kiss on the baby’s nose, they brought a hand up and lightly tapped their nose.

““Fundy! Come here!” You cheered, reaching your arms out to the toddler. They giggled, waddling over to you. Their scab covered knees were littered with bandages and the red overalls they wore were much unlike what Wilburs would have wanted your child to wear, but it was your kid! They deserved the best!

““My precious baby,” you placed a kiss on their cheek, causing the brown haired child to giggle and wipe the kiss from their cheek. You grinned, littering their face in kisses as they squirmed, ““My little champion!”

“Yah! Cham-champion!” They babbled, bringing up a finger to chew on as you set them down and smoothed out your dress.

““Alright, sweetheart, papa will be here soon, so make sure to tell him what you want to tell him, alright?” Your boy nodded, a goofy grin on his face as he reached over to one of the toys you had brought.

You cradled your son’s head as he sobbed, shaking his head in denial as to what had just happened.

“He-he’s gone, mama!” He choked out, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His tears stained your shirt, though the feeling didn’t bother you as you rocked your son back and forth, combing your fingers through his hair.

“Fundy, it’s okay,” you cooed, ““He doesn’t have to live with all the mistakes he made in the past anymore. Who knows, maybe he’ll come back?”

““But what if he doesn’t? That was his last life and- and it’s gone! My dad’s gone!” Letting out a pained wail, he continued to sob. And you let him.

He had gone through so much.

““Who the hell are you and what are you doing around my son?” You sneered, standing in front of your son as the transparent figure stared at you curiously.

“You don’t remember me?” They asked, voice echoing as they tilted your head. “I- [Y/N], it’s me! Your husband! I- I am your husband, right?”

“My husband didn’t push away his son and focus on a failed country more than his own fucking family.” You loaded your crossbow, aiming it at the ghost. ““You didn’t come to his birthday parties, didn’t get him anything, you barely paid attention to him when your country was in the spotlight! You’re no husband to me.”

“Mama-” Fundy gulped nervously, ““Mama, please.”

“You know what, whoever the fuck you are? You’re no damn husband to me and you never will be. Now leave me and my son alone, for fuck’s sake.”

The ghost was silent as you turned, leading the man beside you toward the house at the top of the hill, though a small smile made its way onto his face.

“She’s the one I married?” He murmured, moving his hand to where his heart was, “Was she really the love of my life?”

#mcyt #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #wilbur soot #c!wilbur #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #fundy #fundy x you #fundy x reader #fundy imagine

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sp00kworm · 4 years ago

Text

Iron Lake

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Pairing: Qene (Male God [Bird Creature]) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Wound Descriptions, Blood

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Ore was rich in the valleys once. The entire hillside was covered in small mine shafts for digging up iron ore for smelting in the iron works, and that lead to several settlement villages between the city and the ocean. Your family had lived on the final reaches of the valley, towards the sea, for many generations, until the collapse. The men worked as miners, and the women worked the farms. Your own family, however, had moved on long ago. When the iron ore ran dry, and the mine shafts began to collapse, the village was left to the farmers and creatures which plagued the woods and hills. You looked at your sturdy cottage and the barns surrounding it as you sat on top of the newly built dry-stone wall you had just finished. It had collapsed with a recent bull charge and you’d spent a long time building it back up higher so he couldn’t get at your cows. A few heifers were too young and now steered clear of the wall, wandering along the other side of the field. You didn’t blame them. The bull was a neighbour’s, and rarely did he have the beast under control. Smoking a pipe called you, but it was a habit that was best left alone living so rural. You patted your nearest cow and fed her a handful of weeds before taking your bucket and heading to your chickens, which were clucking around the few ewes you had.

The chickens ran on small legs as you shook the feed bucket, and you grinned as you leaned over to toss them some food. The ewes were slower to move and trotted over as you headed to their small food trough and hay basket. You shovelled more hay in from under the shelter and locked the gate before filling their feed and water troughs. The chickens were back following you around as you tapped their own feed buckets again and herded them back into their coop. They happily ignored you closing the caging in favour of the food you had put in their own trough. Whistling, you took all the buckets and closed the gates to the fields, heading back towards the small storage and utility shed to put everything away. The wind rushed over the long grass at the top of the hill and you paused to look up as the sky rumbled with the beginnings of rain. Sure enough, as you looked to the herd, they were heading back to the shelter. There was rain on the way. You tutted and made sure to put everything away before rushing to cover the chickens and make sure the sheep had their own shelter with their raised bedded platform.

As you finished checking on the cows, the heavens opened, and you rushed for your small porch, sprinting under the cover as the rain came lashing down, soaking your shirt and bottoms through. The cotton clung to you as you shuddered by the door, watching the grey clouds blur with falling water over the top of the mountain in the distance. It was colder now, and you opened your door to stoke the fire and dry your clothes. You grumpily tugged your wet clothing off and hung it in front of the fire before you rekindled the embers and wrapped yourself tightly in a heavy blanket of white wool. The rain thundered on the roof, and you warmed your toes before pulling on a small pair of moccasins and peering through the glass in your windows. The animals were huddled together out of the rain as it gave the grass and small crop garden you had a good soak. It was miserable. You perched yourself on the small table and watched the weather with a hum.

“And I had so much to do today too.” You lamented quietly.

The rain was white noise after a while, and the clouds rolled over head, still full of rain when you peered back up at the sky. You jumped as a great screech sounded overhead, inhuman, furious and in pain. It sounded again with the thunderous boom of a weapon, and you jumped from the window at the flash of gun powder in the far distance, over the mountain top. Your home shook with another screeching wail as the flashes stopped and the clouds rolled again, the wind howling through the unsealed stone cracks in your cottage. There was another boom of thunder as the cries of the creature paused for a moment. You prayed they hadn’t just shot at a dragon. Dragons were harder than steel plating and bullets or canons did very little damage to their interlinked scales. Fury would follow an injured dragon, but there was no hiss and boom of burning flames. Another ear-piercing screech followed down the mountainside, as a great black figure soared into the clouds and disappeared overhead. It’s shadow hung over the top of the hill as it zipped down through the valley before it screeched again and plunged from the sky, spinning in a mass of glorious golden brown and tawny feathers before it plummeted into the muddy cow field in a mass of feathers, dirt and blood.

The cows mooed violently before trotting out to investigate the lump, the younger females hanging back under the wooden shelter. You watched the feathers float from the sky, shellshocked, before you rushed for your damp clothing and pulled it all back on. You threw on your hooded cloak and rushed out into the rain and wind. The cows called as you rushed to the fence and thumped at their flanks harshly, batting their tongues away from the creature’s wounds. It hissed, feathers brushing upwards as you dared to touch its giant body. It was huge, easily over twelve feet long, the long tail feathers crumpled under its cut legs. It had a great talon missing from one of it’s feet, and blood thrummed from the wound. You rushed to its head.

“Oh, my Sun…” You cursed as you looked at the burning orange eyes that peaked out from the great, fluffy crown of feathers. A beak opened as it hissed again, another, weak scream of upset. A threat, you realised as it’s feet moved and talons slashed at the floor.

“Don’t!” You pushed it’s shoulder as the orange bled to black and it turned onto its other side, flopping over in its attempts to push itself back onto its feet.

“You’re killing yourself!” You screamed at it as it flexed its wings and black blood spewed from its mouth. You gasped at the cavern in its side, bleeding black tar and red blood over its beautiful, soft feathers. It screeched again, madness taking over as it thrashed to get itself upright and managed, shaking on its swollen, bleeding foot. The wound to its torso was heavily bleeding, and blood poured with the stress and movement, revealing the two-inch diameter iron ball wedged in between its ribs.

“Stop!” You screeched again, putting your hands on its wings before two hard arms extended out of the feathery chest. The clawed hands snatched at you, lifting you high to its bleeding black eyes as you gasped. With a small scream, the creature reared its head back and paused as you covered its eyes, small hands encompassing its blackened gaze. Its wings sagged as it’s beak opened to let tar leak from its gullet.

“You’re going to die if you don’t let me get that bullet out of you!” You shouted up at it, clinging to its face, “Let me help you, please.”

The bird-like creature sagged, its wounded feet giving in as it paused to retch blood up once more and placed you back on the floor with a croak. The croak bubbled with tar and blood as its feathers shifted and it looked up at your little cottage. The wind shifted and blew violently, soaking the both of you with more, icy rain.

“I will not fit.” It whispered deeply, as though its voice was being carried to your ears on the wind itself.

“You can…talk…” You commented, stunned for a moment as it opened its mouth, “There’s a barn to the back. I used to keep the horse in there, but its empty now.” You reasoned as you opened the gate and coaxed the bleeding beast through the rungs. It cried out as its claws got stuck in the cattle grating, the wound from the missing toe tearing and bleeding over the wooden slats. The creature followed, feathers dripping from its body in a bloody trail as it struggled behind you, croaking and wheezing as you heaved open the doors to the horse barn and opened the door to a stall.

The creature flopped into the stall, its burning eyes dripping with tar as it wheezed, wings ruffling as it struggled to keep the gapping wound in its chest off the stone floor. You rushed to kick over a great barrel of sawdust to mop up the blood before disappearing back into the howling wind and rain to grab what little medical supplies you had. A crow squawked by your window as you rushed into the front door, his beady eye following you before it hopped into the house and cawed again, louder. Cursing, you grabbed your old sheets and shoved them into the large cooking pot with the rest of the water from the well. The fire was roaring, and they would soon be clean enough to wrap the wounds. The poultices were a little old, but they smelt fresh and clean, of mint and lavender, and you grabbed the jars and your needles and some fine thread. It would be a botch job at best, but it was all you could do for the creature. You also made sure to grab something for the pain, grabbing a bottle of dragon fire whiskey as you grappled the cooking pot of boiling sheets and shouldered the other supplies. The crow followed you out of the house again and cawed, but you paid it no mind, even as more small birds flocked with it under your porch and in the fields.

The creature was wheezing against the floor, barely breathing, when you returned, and you cursed as its eye opened, devoid of any honey colour, just filled with black. Its eyes rolled and closed.

“Try and stay awake. Please. I need you awake to stop the bleeding.” You scrubbed your hands and hung the sheets to dry as you looked at his chest again, eyeing the iron ball wedged under his bottom rib, mashed in with broken feathers and splinters of stone. With a shaky hand, you took hold of your small set of forceps, usually used to help cows calf, and soaked them in the boiling water before you dared to ease them under the plumage and grip the bullet. The creature screamed but didn’t lash out, and so, you committed, heaving the bullet down, and out of its chest with a rush of tar like goo and blood. It croaked against the stone and you reached for the fresh water and salt to rinse the sharp pieces of feather and stone away before you plucked the broken feathers around the wound away and eyed the wound for any other artifacts. It was clean. You jumped as one of the creature’s leather skinned arms appeared from out of the feathers of its chest and reached for the large bottle of whiskey you had brought. It hissed and pulled the cork free with its beak before pouring the strong alcohol into its gullet, grumbling, and croaking after with the burn.

“That much will knock you out good.” You promised as you stroked its feathery chest and pulled out your needle, sterilising it in the boiling water before you threaded it, knotted the end, and got to work, suturing the wound closed where you could, as tightly as you dared. The bird creatures’ skin was dark underneath its feathers, leathery to the touch and tanned. You closed the final part of the wound and tried not to slip too much as you knotted the end with blood slick fingers. The tar was gone, no longer leaking from its eyes and mouth. Quietly, you listened to it breathe, wheezing softly against the floor. You took hold of the mint poultice and applied a layer with honey over the wound to soothe the raw, sore skin. Wings shuffled as you reached to tear apart your sheets into large strips to wrap the wound. It cried as you returned and eased its chest up enough to reach around, duck under its arms and wrap the whole thing tightly. You pinned it before letting it rest as you cleaned and wrapped its foot, wondering if the toe would need cauterizing as you left it be, snoozing in an alcohol induced sleep. You made sure to pile hay around him for the night before you closed the doors tightly and looked at your cottage.

The crow from before cawed again from your small porch, fluttering about the floor before it landed by your window and watched you as you hauled your supplies back inside.

“What’s brought you here?” You asked, “I don’t have any seeds for you!” You shouted as it followed you into the house and settled itself over the top of your fire, seated in a small handkerchief on your mantle place.

“Fine. Make yourself at home then.” You scoffed as you looked over at your cooking pot and poured the water out of the window. You were drenched through to the bone and you shuddered as you stoked the fire again and stripped off your clothing. You hung it by the fire and sniffled as you dried off and then wrapped yourself back in your large blanket, content to snuggle into your large armchair and warm your toes by the flames. It was soothing to hear the rain slow to a patter against your roof and the soft cawing of the crow nestled in front of you. Your eyes drooped as you snuggled into the blanket and forgot about the creature laid in your barn.

A great squawk in your ear woke you up, and you jumped awake violently before the crow stomped over your lap and jumped up and down on the arm of your chair. You looked at it in confusion before pushing the blanket away and shuddering. It was cold. Using the blanket as a shawl, you stoked the fire again, throwing some more kindling and then logs into the embers to get it going as the crow fluttered into your kitchen and snapped at the crumbs on the side. You huffed and pulled out a small bag of sunflower seeds before you put a small handful in a bowl and watched the crow go to town.

“You’re a weird little thing.” You commented before going to get dressed in the small room you had to the left side of the cottage, leaving the crow to eat and hop around, so long as it didn’t decide that your floor was a good place to poop.

The crow was still on the countertop when you returned, watching you through one, beady black eye, as you walked towards it. It flapped in protest as you stood in front of it but didn’t squawk or fly away. It stared back at you, its head turned and tilted up to see you properly.

“Are you here for the creature?” You asked, no louder than a whisper.

In response, the crow flapped again and gave one short, loud honk.

“Hm. I don’t think I trust you just yet.” You scolded gently before you offered your hand to the crow. The corvid pecked a finger before stepping onto your hand and skipping up your arm, hopping as it went along your sleeve, its beak holding itself up when it slipped against the cotton.

“Come on then. Let’s go and see how our house guest…well, our barn guest, is doing.” You tapped the crow’s beak and headed towards the door. You both looked up at the morning sun and smiled, thankful for the sunshine. The crow flapped again and spread its wings to soak in the rays before you turned to head around the back of the cottage where the barn was.

The rain had washed away most of the blood, leaving clumps of muddy feathers around the rocks and fence posts as the evidence that the creature had passed through. You stepped over a puddle and heaved open the barn door. A great rumbling croak sounded as you stepped inside, leaving the door open a little to let the morning air in. The creature’s feathers dragged against the piles of hay and the stone floor, as it struggled to raise its head. When it managed to get high enough, one, burning orange eye peered over the top of the stall, eyeing you as you approached the wooden gate.

“Good morning.” You uttered as it flopped back against the floor with a sad, long croak. The crow on your shoulder squawked again before fluttering down to the great beast and moving from the bottom of its tail feathers to its hooked beak. It opened one giant eye and huffed before looking at you again and opening its mouth.

“Sustenance.” Its great voice rumbled before closing its eyes again, struggling to swallow as the crow pecked gently at the loose feathers on its face, pulling them free before it tapped its beak against the other and flew up to the side of the stall.

“Food?” You asked, “Well, I have some but certainly not enough to feed you. You’re giant, if you don’t mind me saying and I don’t know if I could feed you.” You confessed, holding the top of the gate as the creature hissed lowly and dragged its great claws along the floor.

“I will hunt.” It rasped.

“NO!” You grabbed it’s shoulder, gently pulling it back down, “You’ll open all of my hard work. You, sit there. And you,” you pointed to the crow, “you’re coming with me.”

The crow nodded and fluttered out of the barn. Before you could turn to follow, the giant bird-creature rustled its feathers and its leathery, clawed hand appeared, holding your waist to keep you in place.

“Thank…you.” It hissed, “I am… Qene.”

It’s name was hissed, a long pronunciation of E’s which made you wonder just of what race is was. If it was a fae, it would not have told you it’s true name, lest you bind it in contracts. You introduced yourself quietly and it nodded, slowly, exhausted still.

“I am…God of the Valley. Wind, weather and bird.” Qene rasped, “He who…controls the mountains.”

“A…God?” You whispered as the creature let go of your waist, “A god in my barn and…”

Qene huffed and collapsed again in his hay bedding.

“I’ve got questions but let me feed you first. What do you eat?” You asked.

Qene raised his beak from the hay to speak, his voice like a small thunderous rumble, “Meat. I hunt…deer and elk. Anything to then give back to the…” His eyes closed slowly, the orange disappearing behind his eyelid before he fell back asleep.

“I guess a chicken might have to do…or maybe I can get a deer from Thriskar.” You pondered as you followed the crow out of the barn and went for your bag and a bow.

Thriskar scoffed at your request, “A deer? A whole one?” The orc sniffed before he carried on skinning the buck he had strung up outside his small home, “What the fuck do you need a whole…” he smirked then, suddenly, as though he had been told the funniest joke, “Do you have company over? Wanting to impress?”

With a snort, you were quick to flip your middle finger up at the orc, “Yeah, fuck you. I need it for pickling and smoking. I want to not live off my cows again this winter.”

“Well, you’re in luck then.” Thriskar commented, rolling his eyes as he wiped the blood from his hands and pointed to the young buck hanging in his shop, “I caught that yesterday. Should be drained enough for smoking now if you want it.”

“How much?” You asked, sceptically.

Thriskar grinned as he tapped the counter in his shop, perching himself, leaned over the counter, before he tapped his lips, “A kiss and four bronze, or seven bronze if you’re feeling less generous.”

“You’re the worst.” You commented as you handed him the seven bronze coins, “I should be able to carry it before you offer that too.”

“Here.” Thriskar laughed as he pulled the creature’s pelt out and tied the deer in a sling like fashion around your back, “You should get it back now.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, don’t make a habit of it okay? I won’t give you the skin for free in future!” he warned as he saw you out of the door and down the path back towards home.

The crow squawked overhead, and you saw Thriskar look up and shake his head before the crow landed on your shoulder.

“Well done. Now he really will think I’m a witch or something.” You scolded the crow as it hopped from your right shoulder, over to your left.

“You don’t need me for that. He likes you enough to want a kiss, doesn’t he? Does that affection not prove anything?” The crow squawked.

You felt your back go cold, “How…can you…”

“Talk?” It asked, “I am…omnipresent within my children.”

“Qene?” You asked as the crow eyed you.

“Yes…” It rasped tiredly, “I wanted to ensure you would be safe.”

“I’ll be fine! There’s nothing but pesky fae and annoying goblins, and they know not to mess with me. I like salt, iron and flowers too much.” You smiled. The crow’s head turned again before it let out another squawk and shook its wings and head violently, as though it had been released from some kind of spell.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine that was lots of fun, huh?” You asked as you stroked the crow’s head and carried on along the path.

Home was a great greeting of farm animals. The chorus was loud and upset, as they had expected their food early in the morning and now it was almost midday. You heaved the deer off your back and onto the porch. The cows crowded the gate as you went to retrieve a hay bale with a pitchfork. There was a lot to tend to before you could give your guest the food he needed. The cows were happy for their filled hay and you were quick to give the sheep and chickens their food before you dragged the deer away from your little crow friend, and towards the large barn on your back. You opened the door and peered inside. Once again, Qene lifted his head, just high enough to see over the top of the stable door, his burning orange gaze looking directly at you.

“I’m back.” You smiled, “And I got you this!”

“Meat?” Qene droned over the top of the stable, “Deer…. No innards.”

“We don’t tend to eat the insides…the intestines are for sausages though.” You told him as you opened the door and laid the deer over the stone floor.

“Sausages?” Qene rasped, his head tilted as his feather’s rustled, and he pulled himself along the floor, his beak opening.

Spit dripped from his beak as his tongue extended, pointed and tanned like his skin. He licked at his beak before he took a great chunk out of the hind of the deer.

“Thank you.” Qene rumbled as he threw his head back and swallowed the chunk of deer, “This…will help.”

“You’re welcome.” You smiled as you reached to pluck one of his feathers from the floor, looking at the now dull brown colour. When it had been attached to his face, it was shiny, golden and beautiful.

Qene ripped more from the deer and noticed you spinning the crushed feather by its quill, “They do not live once they are detached…True power flows through them, but they cannot be removed with it forcefully.”

“What kind of power?” You asked as you sat by the stable door, “I’ve…Well, I guess you are a God.”

Qene scoffed, “It is why I took a bullet to the chest.”

“They’re after your feathers?”

“Yes. Fools that they are.” Qene snorted again over the carcass, “Even if they have no value when they are forcibly plucked.”

You decided not to press the issue, and simply sat as Qene ate, intrigued by the way he plucked at the meat, tearing it all from the bones before smashing open the bones for the marrow inside, his tongue licking at the blood and goo before the bones were then crushed and eaten.

“We really should change your bandages.” You offered as the God finished crunching the brains inside the skull.

“There is no need.” Qene grumbled as he swallowed the last pieces of his meal, “This will be enough for me to heal fully.” His eye turned on you again, “And soon I will be out of your hair.”

“What do you mean you’re almost healed?” You scoffed, “Let me see.”

Qene chuffed and opened his bandages with a swipe of his claws, “See for yourself.”

You shuffled through the hay and looked at the exposed wound below his ribcage. Except, now it was no longer a gaping wound, it was a healing wound, scabbed over where you had stitched it, the flesh filling the line quickly, and moving by the second.

“How is that happening?” You asked in fascination, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I am the God of this valley. God of the Iron Lake valley. I am not…held by your mortal deigns.” Qene rasped, his voice growing in strength like a thunderstorm now that he had eaten, “But I would…like some more of that Dragon Fire Whiskey, if you have anymore?”

You looked at his feet and noticed his toe had not grown back, but was quickly snapped from your revere as you smiled and laughed, “More whiskey? Its only just past midday but sure. I’ll go and get the rest of the bottle for you, since you’re a God and all that.” You turned to stand and opened the stall, “Does it even have an effect on you?”

The God huffed and opened his beak in something that looked like a smile, his claws tucked under his head and his wings blanketed over his body, “Not greatly, but it is strong, so I can feel the effects for a moment.”

“So, when you chugged it for the pain…”

“It did not help for a long time.” Qene confirmed, “But I am grateful for your help. Without you, I would have gone mad and destroyed much of this place in my agony.”

“Well, you’re welcome. It’s the least I could do after what other humans did to you. Now, let me get you that whiskey.”

Qene’s feather’s rustled in the valley winds, and he raised his head as he stepped out of the barn, his claws dragging on the floor before he spread his wings and let the wind run through his feathers. A few final dead ones fluttered away on the wind, browning as they disappeared up the hills.

“It feels like an eon since I felt the wind.” Qene rumbled as he flapped his wings and stood tall to look over the fields and up to the mountain, “I will now no longer burden you.”

“I…I’m glad you’re well, but…” You looked at the mountain again, “Won’t they be waiting for you?”

“Waiting for me?” Qene rumbled, his head tilted to peer down at you, “They may be, but my home is my own…”

“Why not stay here?” You asked as the small crow cawed and landed on your shoulder, “They won’t look for you here.”

“And why would you want this?” he asked as he dipped his head, “I am not of your kind, nor am I a welcome guest. I fell into your home.”

“But you are also a welcome one now.” You smiled at him, “I don’t mind you being here. You even helped me get those hay bales out of the barn.”

Qene’s eyes looked to the mountain with longing, “My home…”

“You can go and see…but if you want to come back then…”

Qene lowered his beak to your head, pressing the top to the top of your skull before he looked you in the eyes and licked at your cheek, “Silly human. I…” he rumbled, “I will see my home, but I will return…for visits or for…If my home is not inhabitable.”

You reached up to his face and carefully stroked along Qene’s feathered neck, the golden feathers soft and pretty, “Come back when you want.” You smiled, “Maybe you can replace the whiskey you drank, huh?”

Qene laughed, his beak open and eyes closed, “Perhaps…Or maybe I can bring you something better?”

“Something better?” You asked.

The God nodded his head, “I will bring you a feather, if I return, and weave it into your hair.”

“To what end? What does that mean?” You stroked his neck.

“That you are chosen by me, by the valley god…” he confessed, “That you will be my priestess.”

You laughed softly, “I don’t know about being a religious figure but…”

“You will be mine?” Qene rumbled, his wings flexing.

“Maybe I will, Qene.” You promised before the God flexed his wings and pounded them three times, lifting from the field and into the air.

The crow on your shoulder rubbed its head under your chin, “I will be here. My eyes see everything.”

“I know, Qene. Good luck.” You whispered to the crow before the shadow in the clouds disappeared back towards the mountain.

Weeks past with warm weather and pleasant breezes. The mountain was silent, looming in the distance over the valley, and you tended to your animals and small vegetable patch. Thriskar came for some milk and eggs, looking at the sudden brightness to your animals and farm.

“It is like a God has touched this place!” He commented over a cold glass of milk one day, crunching carrot sticks between his teeth as he looked at the farm. His comment made you wonder just where Qene was. Since he had left the farm had been brighter, fuller of life, but quiet and Qene had not spoken through your crow companion for a long time. You were beginning to think something had happened, and often you went to bed after leaving a bottle of whiskey on the porch. This night, you did the same, placing the bottle out on the porch with a small candle in a holder, before heading to bed.

The next morning you opened the door and stood over a single, golden feather. The feather glowed in the early morning light, bright and brilliant, burning with power. The whiskey was uncorked, and the candle blown out. You rushed for both items, grabbing the feather, and clutching it close before you rounded the corner and thundered into the barn. Qene’s orange eye slowly peered over the top of the stall.

“Hello, little bird.” Qene rumbled before he pushed open the gate, “It has been a while.”

“Qene!” You rushed to the bird creature and hugged him around the neck.

Qene raised his neck and hung you before he gripped you around the waist and smiled, clucking softly with a purr before he placed you back on the floor, “I have missed you. My home is gone, destroyed and trapped. I…I searched for somewhere, but I have ended up back at your doorstep.”

“So…You’re here to stay?” You asked gently.

He nodded his head, “If I am welcome. I will make a home here and…I would like to know more about you.”

You looked up at the eagle face. His eyes were covered by golden and brown feathers, and you reached up to push them away, staring at the orange eyes of the God.

“You were always welcome.” You cooed before kissing the top of his beak.

“Thank you, little bird.” Qene cooed back as his leathery skin rubbed against your own, “The whiskey was a treat.” he chuckled.

“You’re going to have to give me some way to buy more! It’s so expensive!” You scolded.

#forest god x reader #god x reader #bird creature x reader #fae x reader #monster x reader #monster bf x reader #monster bf #monster boyfriend #qene x reader #gender neutral reader #monster reader insert #bird man #bird creature #valley god x reader #valley god

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ashes-and-ashes · 5 years ago

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Harry opens his eyes to a sea of white, foggy and empty and utterly bare, the feeling of a warm hand on his chest. He blinks - everything is too bright and too blinding, the air painful in his lungs. It’s all he can do to sit up, his back aching, his mouth tasting of blood.

“Oh God,” he hears, the voice thin and near-breaking. “Oh God. Not you. Please not you.”

“Draco?” Harry says, and the hand on his chest digs in, almost to the point of pain. “What the - “

The world slowly comes into focus; a blinding white void, a series of train tracks, Draco’s pale face. It’s all empty, all too washed out until Harry lets his gaze drift down and sees the bright streak of crimson red against the fabric of Draco’s robes.

His mind goes blank. He doesn’t even realize that he’s reaching out until Draco lets out a low sound, his hand fastened around the bones of Harry’s wrist.

“I’m fine,” he says. “It doesn’t hurt. Not unless you touch it.”

“Draco - “

“I’m fine,” he snaps. He scrubs a hand over his face - blackened, Harry notices, covered in soot. “I don’t know. I just - I got hit by - by something and then I was bleeding and then when I opened my eyes I was here.”

Harry stares at the train tracks, the slates of wood and the slender beams of iron that stretched out, fading into the distance. There’s the distant sound of something, the hum of a train whistle, and he feels Draco’s hand tighten on his own.

“Are we dead?”

“I don’t know,” Harry says. There’s still dirt in his hair, dirt and leaves, his shoes covered in mud. “Where would we be?”

Draco lets out a short laugh. He meets Harry’s eyes and for a moment everything goes silver, shades of grey and blond and the world slowly slides out of focus. “I don’t know. I always thought I’d burn.”

“You wouldn’t have - “ Harry starts, but it’s the sound of footsteps that makes him turn around.

The train had arrived, suddenly, magically, in a plume of smoke and mist. Harry couldn’t see anything besides his reflection in the windows, his and Draco’s and...

“You,” Draco says, with enough steel in his voice that Harry spins around. “What are you doing here.”

“Professor,” Harry offers, because what else could he say? He couldn’t muster up the venom colouring Draco’s voice, couldn’t conjure anything besides the bitter note of exhaustion.

Dumbledore stares down at him. He looked as he did so long ago, all twinkling eyes and midnight robes. He looked like magic, the way Harry used to think of it, when he was eleven and young and naive.

“Harry,” he says, and there’s that complicated knot of emotions that always coloured Dumbledore’s voice, biting regret and astonishing pride. “You wonderful boy. You brave, brave man.”

He suddenly can’t breathe. Everything comes crashing down at once; the whiteness and the smoke, Draco’s fingers pressed into his own. He dimly notices Draco stepping in front of him, back straight even with the wound gaping across his side.

“You’re dead,” Draco says, with enough malice that it sounds like a hiss. “You fell from the tower. I saw your body.”

Dumbledore closes his eyes. He looks old, Harry realizes, old and yet so, so alive. “So I did.”

Draco swallows, hard. Harry can see his fists clenching at his side, the dig of his fingers into his palm. “Where are we.”

“I was going to ask you that,” Dumbledore says, with the faintest hint of amusement in his voice. “Where do you think?”

Draco glares at him. Harry’s vision blurs, his two protectors standing in front of him like a shield. He manages to take a stumbling step forward, until he was leaning against Draco, against the warmth of his body. Dumbledore doesn’t seem surprised at the contact, merely humming to himself as Harry interlocked his fingers with Draco’s.

“I let him kill me,” he says, and he hates how his voice shakes. “Didn’t I?”

“You did,” Dumbledore nods.

“So that part of his soul that was in me...has it gone?”

“Oh yes!” Dumbledore says. “Yes, he destroyed it. Your soul is whole and completely your own, Harry.”

Harry doesn’t realize he’s trembling until he feels Draco’s hands on his shoulders, the warmth of his palms bleeding through Harry’s shirt. “So...so I...”

“How long,” Draco says. Harry can hear the fury underneath his voice, his ironclad control slowly unraveling. “How long have you raised him to die.”

Dumbledore slides his gaze over to Draco and Harry thinks he sees something - a flash of recognition, perhaps, a spark of pride. “Since the beginning.”

“I know how you did it,” Draco spits out, his voice near shattering. “He was desperate. You made him see magic as a gift, as something worth dying for. You manipulated him. How could you - “

Dumbledore smiles, and it’s the same smile Draco sometimes wore, ruthless selflessness and utter cunning. “For the greater good, Draco. I did the same things that you did.”

Draco flushes, and Harry doesn’t miss the way Dumbledore’s gaze drops down to the Dark Mark on Draco’s arm. Anger spikes in his stomach and it’s all Harry can do to prevent himself from stepping in front, shielding Draco with his body.

“Don’t you dare,” he says quietly.

Dumbledore inclines his head. “For the greater good,” he repeats, softly. “Draco and I are united on that.”

Harry feels Draco’s flinch, feels the tense set of his shoulders and the beat of his heart. “And the rest?” Draco demands. “Sirius and Remus? Harry’s parents? All the people who died today? Were they part of your plan?”

Something dark passes over Dumbledore’s face, half regret and half triumph. “Sacrifices. Like the people you killed, Draco, in your time at the manor.”

This time Draco actually steps back, the look on his face so shattered that Harry’s heart aches. He whirls on Dumbledore, his voice tense. “How dare you - “

“Maybe,” Draco breathes. “Maybe they were. But what about the others? What about the first years I had who sobbed because they were put in the evil house? The kids who were forced to take the Marks? The kids you abandoned because you didn’t care enough about them.”

It’s anger, Harry realizes. Years and years of anger, of being alone, of having no one to turn to, of watching others fall to bits and shatter into pieces.

His stomach twists. Dumbledore suddenly doesn’t seem solid, a shifting mirage in an empty sky. He smiles, almost sadly, and Harry sees a single tear trickling down his nose.

“You can go,” he says; the doors are open, Harry realizes, the train ready to go. “They’re waiting for you. Only for you.”

Draco stiffens. His fingers twist against Harry’s skin, harsh and painful and then he lets go. “Harry,” he breathes, voice breaking. “You can rest now. If...if that’s what you need.”

Harry closes his eyes. He tries to imagine it - the train, the spin of colours. His family - he can almost see them, beyond the pale thread of mist and smoke that always appeared whenever he thought of them. He thinks of Sirius, of Remus and his heart actually aches with longing, for a world he never had and never could have.

But he also thinks of Hermione, and of Ron, or flying around the Quidditch field, of lying on his back and staring up at the sky. Molly’s cooking and Arthur’s rambling, the Burrows and Hogwarts, the look on Dudley’s face as they parted for the last time. He thinks of Draco, all beautiful and golden and radiant, the fire of the goddamn sun, thinks of all the things slipping through his fingers and Harry shakes his head.

“No,” he says - Draco blinks at him. “I’m not leaving. I can’t leave. I won’t abandon the world.”

I won’t abandon you, he thinks, and Draco breaks out into a smile, the only warm thing he’s seen since he had first opened his eyes.

Dumbledore just nods - he’s fading away, Harry thinks, into the mist and the smog and the slowly reversing train. “I did tell you,” he murmurs, over the rushing in Harry’s head, the streaks of colour. “Love is the most powerful weapon of all.”

He feels Draco’s fingers press into his wrist and this time, Harry believes it.

#my take on that kings cross scene???#drarry #drarry angst #draco malfoy #harry potter #albus dumbledore #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter angst #draco malfoy angst #hp #second wizarding war #sirius black #remus lupin

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acourtofsnakes · 4 years ago

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Ret'urcye Mhi - Rogue, Chapter 7 | The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (F)

Summary: Can things go back to normal after the Mandalorian saw you break down? Or have walls been torn down that can’t be replaced?

Warnings: Light swearing, I don’t want to give it away but no smut but… a ‘moment’ with some certainly hot thoughts and pining but nothing heavy though, reader has a back tattoo, let me know if I forgot anything!

AN: I have brought in Cara Dune in this, and she will be a frequent character. I by no means condone what Gina Carano did, and I am pleased and relieved that she is gone. However, I do like her character, as many others do. She IS only mentioned in this one briefly but will be a main character in a few future chapters.

Also, Readers tattoo is loosely based on this design!(link) I’m not sure who the exact creator is, but it was posted by Urban Threads on Pinterest, but if you know, please tell me! ❤️

Word Count: 8231

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs

Mando’a Translation: Ret'urcye mhi - Goodbye

Neither of you mentioned that afternoon.

It hadn’t come up in the 3 days since, and it hadn’t come up today. You made sure of it.

Every time Mando looked at you, and you just felt he was going to mention it, you’d change the subject. Or just walk away. You didn’t need to have that conversation with him. You couldn’t have that conversation with him. Or anyone.

The Mandalorian had sat there, holding you for the hours it took for you to cry yourself out. When the shuddering sobs had given way to hitched breaths and a numb stare, he’d still sat there. Rubbing your back in gentle circles, in time with Duru’s tail gently swaying over your arm. He hadn’t uttered a single word either, just letting you break down in his arms.

When the quiet ambiance of the ship and the pressure of his hand had lulled you into sleep, he’d carried you to his bed – well, the narrow cot that jutted out from the wall in what was supposed to be the medical area. He’d given up his sleeping compartment to Grogu a long time ago, to keep the little creature warm and safe.

He’d laid you in, covering you with the blanket and then one more that he pulled out from a unit.

You were asleep, so you hadn’t seen the way his gloved fingers gently brushed back the hair from your tear flushed cheeks, the way they’d lingered for a moment as he’d looked down at the soft strands gliding over his fingers. You hadn’t felt the way he’d frozen when a sudden want crashed through him, to yank off his gloves and run his bare hands through your hair, feel the silkiness and the texture for himself.

And you also wouldn’t have noticed the way his breathing went ragged for a moment and he’d lurched back, stumbling away so quickly he nearly overturned a box on his way out of the door.

Your sleep hadn’t remained easy. Only a few hours later, you had woken up screaming, unsure of where you were, why you were on a thin cot that smelled like metal and smoke and something distinctly unique and almost like sandalwood. It was somehow comforting, soothing. You had inhaled the scent, trying to calm down your pounding heard and regain control of your breathing.

It was only when you could suck in a full breath that you realised where you were, who’s bed this was.

A feeling of gratefulness had crashed over you, only to be immediately wiped out by shame. You had broken down in front of him, spat such awful, awful things to his face.

And when you heard footsteps outside the compartment door, the husky baritone of his voice as he called out your name softly, you’d gone still. Like you were back on the run, mere inches away from a hunter and one move would mean disaster.

He’d lingered, you could see by the shadows of his feet under the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. A wild thought had come to you, that he had his hand pressed to the door and you could just.. open it. Open it and let him come in, let him carry the burden of your nightmares and your feelings even If it was just for a little while. You could share some of those plaguing thoughts that you’d unleashed today. And he would listen. You didn’t know him that well, but you knew him enough to be confident he would sit there, let you talk. He knew what it was like to be alone, to have emotions and worries that you had no choice to bear yourself.

The temptation was so strong, you craved that contact and connection so much that you were halfway across the room before your snarling argument came back in full technicolour. The things you’d said to him. The appalling way you’d acted.

No.

You couldn’t see him. You couldn’t face him after that. After what you had said and the way you had cracked. You shook your head firmly, waiting until you heard a sigh so soft you might have imagined it and retreating footsteps.

It was only then you that you returned to the bed, pulling the twin blankets up high over your shoulders.

You’d deal with seeing him in the morning, but for now, all you could do was bury your face in the thin pillow and try not to notice how it smelt like him.

Something had changed between the two of you since that afternoon. He had glimpsed a part of you that you normally kept perfectly hidden, even from yourself.

…

You were on your way to another bounty, one of the last couple of pucks that Mando had left.

Mando had mentioned it was a hot, desert planet and he’d prefer it if you stayed in the ship with Grogu. It’d be far too hot for the little guy out there. You had obliged happily, more than fine to stay in. You didn’t like to be too hot, it made you uncomfortable and agitated.

The cockpit was quiet, a peaceful silence had descended upon it as Mando flew the ship.

You’d found yourself drawn to watching his hands lately. There was something… oddly soothing about it. Watching him work the controls, hold Grogu, clean his weapons.

You wondered if he missed the sensation of touch, and then wondered if yours and the kids presence here made it harder for him. Meant he had less chances to take off his armour and be free of it.

Of course, that had then led you onto the thought of wondering if he slept naked when he was alone.

The thought of him lying there, nothing hiding him, separating him from the world.

The thin blankets sliding over the body you knew was toned, yet soft enough in all the right places.

It made your mouth a little dry, your cheeks a little pink and you struggled to find something else to think about.

Your eyes drifted to his hands again, remembering the sound of the gloves being drawn off the other night.

They were mesmerising, agile, and you couldn’t stop thinking about them in your hair, on your skin.

Stars above, get a grip, girl.

You mentally scolded yourself for these thoughts, trying to steer your damned imagination onto something more appropriate.

Luckily, your saviour came in the form of Mando himself. He tilted his head back slightly, enough for you to know he was talking to you, “What’s your favourite planet? Or one you’d like to visit?”

The question surprised you, you had to admit. You weren’t used to people asking about your likes and dislikes. You smiled though, perhaps this was his gentle way to break any tension left over. “Hmm… I think… I’d have to say the planet I’d like to visit most... either Hoth or Coruscant.”

Mando laughed, that gorgeous rough, honey laugh, “Okay, Coruscant I can understand, but Hoth? Really?”

You pouted at the back of his head, “Yes!! It sounds beautiful.”

The Mandalorian laughed more, “Beautiful? Sweetheart, it’s covered in ice. It’s freezing there. All you would see is ice and snow… and more ice and more snow.”

You scowled at him now, throwing the leftover wrapper of Grogu’s cookies at his helmet, “And? Snow and ice are stunning. They’re powerful and strong. I’ve only ever been in a proper snowfall once, and I fell in love. The way the flakes float down and.. dance even if there’s the faintest breeze. And then when they land on your skin or your eyelashes like little cold kisses… The sound it makes under your boots when you walk on a fresh fall. And it softens everything, makes it easier on your eyes to see across the landscape… it’s quiet, muffled… Besides, I like the cold.”

Little did you know, Mando was grinning like an idiot under his helmet, adoring the way you defend it to him, the way you describe something as simple as ice and snow. “You like the cold, huh? Then why are you always grumbling that the heating is broken?” The teasing lilt to his voice was evident, so animated and content, compared to his usual cooler, calm silence.

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “That is… completely irrelevant.” You looked at the back of his head, “What about you? If my choices are so hilarious.”

The Mandalorian made a thoughtful noise, “I wouldn’t say there’s one place in particular… But… there’s a few sanctuary planets dotted around. Places with really pretty, dense forests where you could walk for days and not spot anyone else. They’re protected and safe, no dangerous animals or anything allowed… literally sanctuaries. I’d like to take Grogu there… let him wander and have fun and eat things he shouldn’t without having to look over my shoulder.”

It was the most you’d ever heard him speak in one go, and there was a tenderness in his voice that brought tears to your eyes. This man truly loved his little green adoptive son and would do anything for him. “That sounds... stunning. I’ve heard of those planets and always wondered what they were like...”

He made a hum of agreement, fingers working over the control panel as he put it in autopilot. “One day…” He turned around in his chair, “What about your favourite colour?”

You moved to sit cross-legged in the seat, defying the concept of a chair. “Blue. Darker blues, like a midnight blue.” You swayed your chair from side to side slightly, “Actually, the same colour as the cloak you got me. So well done, kudo’s for you.”

Mando leant back in his own chair, tapping the side of his helmet before resting his hands on his thighs again. “This thing lets me read minds; you know.”

You began pulling the pins from your hair, “Mmhm, and I can fly.” You raise an eyebrow at him, grinning.

He chuckled, watching you intently behind the helmet though you wouldn’t know that, watching every pin get removed from holding up your hair, “It wouldn’t surprise me at this point, princess.” He tapped his thighs absently, “You wanna know the real secret?”

You nodded, reaching in for a pin that had become stuck deep in your hair, the last one. “Surprise me.” Got it. You yanked the pin out, letting your hair fall down and your fingers through it. You sighed a little in relief as you rubbed your fingertips against your scalp, chasing away any tightness from the day.

Mando didn’t say anything. He was too distracted, to struck into silence by the sight of your hair.

The light from the ship and coming in through the windows turned some of the strands to gold, igniting them with that fire that blazed within you – and that he’d been on the receiving end.

His hands tightened over his thighs, because he was overtaken by a craving, a need to remove your hands and feel your hair for himself.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had these thoughts.

Fuck, he’d been having these thoughts since he first saw you. He just hadn’t realised them until that night he’d nearly lost his life and woken up to you passed out on his chest.

He’d frozen, even his breathing stopping as he felt the warm weight of you, even though the armour.

He couldn’t bear to move you, to take away that pressure, the closeness of another human that he had missed for so long.

So, he hadn’t. He left you there. Spent hours watching you sleep, the warmth of your breath slightly fogging up the armour on his chest.

“Lori? Anyone in there?” You tilted your head, watching the man before you that was staring at you intently, his breathing somewhat ragged.

He startled slightly, coming back to himself, “Huh?”

You chuckled, “Where did you go? I was waiting for you to knock me off my feet with your revelation.”

He made a noise, “Uh… I.. actually can’t remember...” He tugged at his glove, an odd gesture so at odds with his usual confident demeanour.

You tilted your head, still smiling a little, “Are you okay?”

Luckily, he was saved from answering by the beeping of the controls behind him.

You’d arrived at the planet.

It was hot.

Beyond hot.

The air was warm, the water was warm, you were warm.

And already awake, having just calmed your breathing down from another nightmare, when you heard Grogu, his little coos and gurgled filtering down the hall to you.

The poor little creature had probably woken up from the heat. You had been on this desert planet for a couple of days, opting to stay in and look after the Child whilst Mando hunted down the bounty. The days here were scorching, a dry heat that sucked the life from you immediately. Even the nights were hot, unlike normal freezing desert nights.

Mando had returned this evening, panting from the heat after coming up from the carbonite chamber. “I swear it’s getting hotter out there.”

The cooling system on the Crest was just as temperamental as the heating, so it wasn’t exactly cool in here. The metal floors, which were normally always chilled, were warm underfoot. Mando had let you keep his room, and it was just as hot, being contained in with itself, so you’d been sleeping with the doors open.

Not that it made a dent. Every single closed space was like a heat trap, especially Grogu’s little compartment. So, no wonder he had woken up.

You stretched, then slipped from the cot and made your way to Grogu.

It didn’t take long to settle him, he was all tuckered out from the games you’d been playing today, so after patting his skin with a cool cloth, he had fallen back under.

You were now at the small ‘kitchen’ area in the ship, washing out the cloth. You huffed, splashing some water on your wrists and pulling out the pin that was holding up your hair, and falling out. Grogu had a habit of tugging the ends of your hair in his little fist.

You’d taken to wearing a thin floaty dress to bed, one you’d picked up in that market before it had turned into a horror show. The material was gauzy, allowing the heat to escape your body without it sticking to your clammy skin. What helped enormously was the large cut out in the back. It secured at the back of your neck, and then fell open, exposing almost your whole back before joining again at the base of your spine.

It was probably the flimsiest, most sinful thing you’d ever worn, but it was gorgeous and hey, it did the job.

You rolled your shoulders, pressing the cool cloth to your neck and you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips and you could have sworn you heard a sizzle.

Footsteps behind you startled you, breaking you from your reverie, and then Mando’s voice filtered through the silence, “Are you okay?”

You turned around, smiling when you saw him because he was still in all his armour… not that you were surprised. He must have been boiling though, under all those heavy layers.

You nodded, lifting the cloth from your neck, “The kid was awake, but I settled him down, he was really warm.”

His head was covered, naturally, so you wouldn’t have seen the way his eyes followed a bead of water rolling down your neck, and the unbidden thought of his tongue catching it “Thank you for seeing to him, I didn’t hear..”

Weird. Normally he was so attuned to Grogu, hearing him before he even woke up if you were sitting together. Maybe he was tired, from his hunting.

What you didn’t know, couldn’t know, was that he had been staring at the ceiling for the 3rd night in a row. Having thoughts that he should not be having, his body yearning for things it shouldn’t.

You shook your head, still smiling and turned back to the sink area, “It’s no worries, I was awake anyway so… And you’ve been hunting. You deserve the rest.” You set down the cloth, running your hands through your hair and reaching for your pin to secure it back up. You faced him again, gathering your hair in your hands, “How was it?”

But he wasn’t listening.

He suddenly moved forward, and then he was in front of you. “Wait.” His voice was low, almost strained. There was a husk to it that hadn’t been there before, but it ignited something within you.

You froze, your hands still stuck in your hair. You looked up at him, raising your eyebrows slightly, “What..?” It was only now he was right in front of you that you could see his chest, rising and falling rapidly. “Mando, are you okay?”

He shook his head quickly, his helmet tilted down to you, his hands curling and uncurling at his sides, “Let your hair down.” His voice was still that rumbly order, and it was such an odd request that you did just that, letting it tumble back down again. Your own hands trembled slightly as you lowered them.

A shudder seemed to roll through his body, and he rocked forward on his feet, lurching toward you in a movement that lacked his usual smooth elegance. It was unsteady, unsure.

He stopped when he was a mere few inches away, the closest you’d been to each other since that afternoon.

This close, you could practically feel the heat roiling off of him under his armour, and you tilted your head up to meet him, concern in your eyes, “Mando, you need to go and have a cold shower.. You sound like you’re burning up… do you feel flushed?”

He shook his head jerkily, his hands raising, “Shh… please. I just.. I need to..” He broke off, a sharp intake of air cutting his words.

Something else began to curl through the worry in your belly, like some instinct knew things you didn’t. You swallowed, your voice low when you next spoke, “You need to what..?”

The Mandalorian was shaking, his body tensing and untensing like he was fighting himself, telling himself not to do this. “I.. I need to touch your hair.”

Stars, you could feel the flush that crept up his neck and cheeks, like it burned through his helmet but you stayed completely still.

His words were whispered through gritted teeth, like he was physically trying to bite them back, “I just... I need to do this, please… I’m sorry, but I cant-” He sounded like he was in pain, still breathing raggedly.

Heat flared through your blood, igniting a flame within you that was irresistible. You nodded, letting him see you, “Okay.” Like you could say no to him.

The vocoder nearly didn’t pick up the huff of relief that escaped his lips and he curled his hands into fists again, “Turn around. And close your eyes.” That rough command was back and you were more than obliging to let him navigate this moment.

You turned around, facing the kitchen area, looking over the darkened surroundings before shutting your eyes. It immediately threw all your other senses into overdrive, so you could hear every single rasp of his breath as you exposed your skin to him, and the pounding of your own heart.

“You have to keep them closed. You cannot turn around or look.” There was a desperate plea in his voice, an edge to it that hurt your very soul. He was audibly torn, between his Creed… and this desire that he seemed to have given into.

You nodded again, aching to reach back and reassure him, “I won’t. I won’t open my eyes or turn around until you tell me, I swear on it, Lori.” You let every ounce of truth and understanding seep through your words, praying that it would be enough to convince him he could trust you.

Seemingly, it was, because the next noise that you heard could have struck you dead.

It was the sound of leather rubbing against skin, the friction as they were pulled off, then a soft thump of the material on the floor.

He had taken off his gloves.

He was standing behind you… with his hands bare.

You. A person he hasn’t known for very long at all, and he was partially bare, uncovered.

Your head exploded, a million thoughts racing through it once, sending your heart into overdrive and your own breathing rapid and unsteady.

There was a pause, like he was steeling himself and then… then the slightest sensation, like he was catching the ends of your hair, just brushing them.

That simple movement sent a shiver down your spine, and it was enough to get him to move more. He lifted his hands and then you felt fingers slide into your hair at the back of your head, then slowly, slowly, drag down the length.

You heard a sharp intake of breath behind you, and then a soft mutter, “It’s so soft..” You barely picked it up, even though the ship was silent. The fingers ghosted through your hair again, and his voice was bewildered, “How do you get it this soft in that tiny ‘fresher..” It was like he was talking to himself.

You couldn’t help the soft laugh, a release of tension from this whole thing, “I can’t reveal my secrets, Lori. Can’t have your hair being softer than mine. There’s only room for one on this ship.”

He chuckled, and it ran over your bones like honey, dousing them in such a sweet sensation. “I’ll get it out of you one way or another, princess.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t get the chance to speak because then his fingers were running up your scalp from the base of your head to the crown, with a light pressure and the feeling was so unbelievably good, that you couldn’t help it. Your head leant back into his touch and the faintest sigh left your lips. “Keep doing that..” Your cheeks flushed, embarrassment crashing over you. Why did you have to say that?

The Mandalorian’s hands had paused, absorbing that soft sigh of pleasure and trying to cool his body. But you had a hold over him, he couldn’t say no. He merely did it again, with a firmer press of his fingers against your scalp, a light scrape of his nails just to get you to make that noise again, to be convinced that you were enjoying this just as much as he was.

You didn’t stop the next sigh, this one louder, more delighted. It was like you knew what the other was thinking, could read each other that well.

He was driving you insane, rendering you speechless just from playing with your hair.

You don’t know how long you stood there for, his hands running through the soft locks.

He lifted it slightly, then made a soft noise. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo.”

A tattoo? Oh right.

It was true, you did. It was a delicate piece, spanning from the top of your spine to just above your hips, lining your spine. It showed the phases of the moon, drawn in a minimalist style, with small stars and additional lines coming out of every other piece.

You nodded quickly, “I’ve had it for years.” Fuck, could your voice sound anymore needy?

“What does it mean?” His words were murmured and then the next thing could have had you on your knees.

You heard a sound that had haunted you since the night he nearly died, the sound of leather sliding over skin. The soft plop as it fell to the floor.

No way. Has he just..

His fingers, his bare fingers ghosted down your spine, following the line of it with a touch so fleeting it almost made you whine.

In fact, it did, a whimper rising from deep in your chest.

He was touching you.

His bare skin, skin that he had sworn by Creed to keep covered and hidden until marriage, was trailing down your spine as light as wings.

Pleasure shot straight though you, making your nerves and blood sing, making your knees shake and your belly hot.

A tug on your hair, a tug that was sharp enough to send a faint tinge of pain through your scalp had you moaning, you couldn’t help it. Your lips parted and the moan fell from them, soft, a little high and drawn.

Mando swore under his breath, his whole body twitching behind yours, “I asked you a question, sweetheart.” There was a hoarseness to his voice that hadn’t been there before, a straining note like your moan had shot right through him. Which is had.

What does it mean… what does it mean? Focus!!

“Um… right. When I was on the run, initially in the beginning, I never had a place to call home. Everything I knew had been torn away, and I could never settle anywhere. Every night, I would look up into the sky and watch the moon. No matter what planet I was on, no matter where I was, or if there two moons or 4, it was always there. I only had to look up, and there was something up there to ground me, give me some sense of comfort. It might look smaller, or be a different colour, but it was still the moon. And it made me feel… safe. Like it was a… a companion in a way. I just had to look a little closer, beneath the colours or the distance and there it was. It was always in the sky, so I wanted to get it tattooed so that it would always be with me. No matter if I was outside, as free as I could be, or inside and trapped.” You flushed a little, “That probably makes no sense and sounds so stupid.”

You could sense the Mandalorian shaking his head, his voice still low and soft, “No.. I think it’s beautiful. And I get it. I move around so much too, there’s only a few things that always remain the same. So I know the value of having something familiar.” He ghosted his fingers down it again, trailing all the way down to where the cut out portion of your dress stopped and then back up again.

When his hand reached the top of the tattoo, he slid it up further, cupping the back of your neck in his broad, warm hand.

It sent electricity shooting across your skin, that blazed as he wrapped his thumb and fingers around either side of your neck, just a gentle pressure there.

You moaned again; you didn’t even try to hide it. Your head fell back, exposing your throat to him in a sign of instinctual submission, even though you knew he wouldn’t kiss you. You didn’t mind, you just needed more, more than this teasing touch, more than the faint brush of his fingertips. Your chest shuddered, knuckles white as you gripped the counter in an effort to stay still, “Lori…” You whined his name, hoping it would spark something in him, would force him to do something.

You felt him shudder again, felt his hips draw back from your body like he was trying to hide just what these noises did to him.

Fuck.

It burned you, turned your belly molten and the power that washed over you was heady. You had turned him on just from your hair, your skin and your moans.

The voice that came out was equally as tight, husky and you might have lived and died inside the low baritone “What is it, princess?”

Your fingers curled around the side of the counter in front of you, and you were glad he couldn’t see your face when you whispered, “Please..”. Your voice was low, pleading and aching.

You felt him shudder behind you, a tiny groan echoing through the helmet.

His next words nearly undid you there and then, “Like I could say no to you.”

Then his fingers pressed into your spine, caressing down your back over the tattoo with such admiration, such warmth that it arched slightly, chasing more of that sensation.

Your head was spinning, convinced you were dreaming, that this wasn’t real.

This didn’t happen between you both.

You flirted, sure. But that was harmless, playful.

This… this was real. He was letting you feel his bare skin, uncovered and unhidden.

And it was tearing you apart.

The scrape of his thumbnail on your skin tore you from those thoughts, ripped you back to the present as it ran down the curve of your back. If your eyes had been open, they would have rolled into the back of your head.

Your head fell forward, back arching completely into him and the sound that you let out was sinful. You could only concentrate on the that sharp, pleasurable hurt that you felt in your belly, the feeling of his other hand as it held your shoulder, holding you in that arch.

Heat pooled low in your belly, and every dream, every thought you’d been trying to suppress about him came blasting into full technicolour. All because of his hands.

Those damn hands you’d been pining over since saving his life.

His head was so close over your shoulder that you could hear the low pant of his breath, the coolness of his armour barely brushing your shoulders as you pressed back into him.

Fuck, did he want this as much as you did?

By the way his hand tightened, he had to. You didn’t know how you knew it, but you did.

You swallowed, licking your lips to say something, anything, spur him on but a harsh beeping suddenly broke through the thick tension on the room. A light was flashing, and by the time the fog of pleasure cleared in your head, he was gone.

Gloves picked up and yanked on, boots disappearing up the ladder into the cockpit to check on the autopilot.

The taut sensation in your body snapped, making you sink to the floor as though the strings had been cut.

You lifted shaking hands to your face, burying them in them with a low noise. Your head was a mess, you couldn’t get over it. Couldn’t stop feeling his fingers on your back, your hair. Hear the ragged pant of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest against your shoulders.

It was just touch, just the simple act of touch but it had igniting something so fierce within you.

Something had changed.

What the fuck was that?

You sat there on the floor for Maker knows how long, before dragging yourself up and hurrying off in search of a very, very cold shower.

You weren’t quite sure how to face him the next morning.

You had taken your cold shower, and it had done nothing to cool the fire in your blood so you had to take the initiative, hoping the crash of the water and the fact you were biting down the back of your free hand would cover the desperate moans you made.

Little did you know, the Mandalorian was going through the exact same thing, back arched, lips biting into his lip to stop the groans.

You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, stop thinking about what had occurred between you.

Surely it broke some kind of rules of his Creed?

He had touched you with his bare skin. You weren’t married. You weren’t together. You didn’t even know his name.

Yet he had touched you and.. reacted to you.

Maybe that was just instinct, his body’s natural response to such things.

But he had carried on… until you were disturbed anyway.

Your head went round and round in these circles until your body had calmed down enough to sleep.

…

You rose early, wanting to be washed, dressed and ready and doing something to occupy you before you had to think too much about what you were going to say. Maybe just… Good morning?

Sure. Good morning was fine.

Normal.

It totally didn’t reveal what you’d had to do in the shower, or the thoughts you were still having about it.

You had this discussion with yourself all the way up the ladder of the cockpit, and when you rose to your height, you blurted it out in a cheery voice before you could bail, “Morning!”

Breezy. Nailed it.

The Mandalorian was sitting in the pilot’s chair, fiddling with controls and levers, gloves firmly on. “Good morning. Did you sleep okay in the heat?”

You nodded, sinking down into the pilots chair and feeding Duru a treat, “Yes, thank you. Finally.” You stroked under Duru’s chin, your eyes straying to those hands as he slide them over some switches.

The same hands that had cupped the back of your neck and trailed fire down your spine.

A flush started to creep along your cheeks, so you quickly looked away, “Did you?”

The light bounced off of his helmet as he nodded, “Yes, thank you.”

Polite. His words were polite. Almost... distant.

Okay… Okay, so maybe he just feels awkward?

You bit your bottom lip, worried if you should say something.

No, leave it. He no doubt feels over-exposed and maybe shy about what happened last night. Don’t bring it up. Just act normal.

You nodded faintly to yourself and returned your attention back to Duru.

Mando was ignoring you.

You had been trying to deny it, but he most certainly was.

Yesterday, he had engaged in talking to you now and then throughout the day, but only passing comments and a few spare words.

You had spoken more when you were beating the shit out of each other.

You kept telling yourself that it was just lingering awkwardness from how to go back to normal after that night, but the gnawing in your gut told you otherwise.

It had been shouting at you this morning when he had parked the ship on a planet, announced he was going hunting and he’d be back in a few hours.

Then he’d just gone.

You had waited for him all day, mooched around the ship, played with Grogu and Duru and tried not to worry.

You sat up for hours, even when the little ones had gone to sleep, waiting to talk to him.

You’d convinced yourself that you should talk about. You should tell him you didn’t expect anything from him. That you didn’t hate him, that he didn’t hurt you or anything like that.

Just to tell him whatever you needed to stop this frostiness.

You had it all planned, had every phrase and comment worked out to stop this atmosphere.

About 15 minutes ago, you’d heard the ramp open. 3 minutes after that, the hiss and echo of the carbonite chamber.

Then you’d heard him go and check on the kid, then go to his quarters.

And now, it was his booted feet on the steps to the cockpit that held your attention.

You took a deep breath, prayed to the Maker and spun your seat to face him as he rose up.

The mere sight of that beskar-clad body set your heart thumping, but you coaxed an easy smile on your lips anyway. “Hey, how was the hunt? Cause you any trouble?”

Mando didn’t turn his head to look at you, just padded over to his seat and spun it to the control panel, “It was fine. Easy.” His words were clipped, not harsh, just… efficient. Straight to the point.

You swallowed, your courage faltering a little.

Mentally, you scolded yourself. You didn’t falter in the face of a man who’d touched you and now wouldn’t talk to you. You didn’t whimper and pander to a tense atmosphere.

You sat up a little straighter, pulling your shoulders back and you looked over at him.

Now or never.

“About the other night-”

“I’m taking you to Nevarro.”

What?

You had both spoken at the same time, your eyes now bewildered as you beheld him. “What?”

He said nothing, just fiddled with some controls.

“Mando, what do you mean?” Your voice was shocked, but steady. Did nothing to betray the shock that had just hit your chest like a punch.

You didn’t hear him swallow, only heard his words, “I’m taking you to Nevarro. We’re on the way now.” He said them softly, evenly.

Hearing it again only made your heart drop to somewhere around your waist.

He was leaving you. Dumping you on some planet. And going.

Your hand tapped your leg as sort of nervous habit, and then the words were out, “Is this because of the other night?”

It was his turn to sound bewildered, his head just turning to the side, but you knew he couldn’t see you in his peripheral, “What? What do you mean?”

Your heart was starting to beat uncomfortably in your chest, a sense of shame beginning to creep over you, “Because of what happened in the kitchen. I didn’t see you, I didn’t see your skin.”

Mando turned to face you, one hand still on the panel, his hair half turned but head rotated all the way to look at you, “No, no it’s not because of that-“

You cut him off, “You didn’t… you didn’t offend me. Or hurt me. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry if.. if my reaction made you feel awkward or think something. I don’t.. I don’t expect anything from you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I never have, so please don’t think that.” You flushed, the shame colouring your cheeks. You couldn’t help it. But this was the reason, right? The only reason why he would be dumping you.

He shook his head, “Stop. Stop..” His voice softened slightly, “No. It’s not because of… that. I know you didn’t see me. And I know you don’t expect anything from me.” He took a breath, “I’m taking you to Nevarro to keep you safe. That’s all. I have friends there, Cara Dune and Greef Karga. They’ll look after you. They’ve already set up accommodation for you, so you don’t need to worry about that.

They already knew?

Something like hurt flashed in your eyes, colouring your tone, “They… You already planned this..?” There was no bite in your voice like you would normally have in this situation, you were too shocked by the sudden change in direction your journey was taking.

Mando tilted his head, “I contacted them whilst I was on the hunt… I wanted it set up before we got there, so you wouldn’t stand out to anyone looking.” He still looked at you, “Is that okay?”

You sensed you wouldn’t have a choice in this. So you decided to take the high road. You wouldn’t whine about this.

You smoothed your expression over into a mask of calm, “Yes… I was just a little surprised that’s all. But thank you, really. I’ll… set about packing my things.”

He sounded confused, his head tilting back to watch you rise from your chair, “We have a couple of days yet.”

You nodded, “Oh, I know, I just want to make sure I have everything. And all the things I want to steal from you.” You laughed, even going so far as to nudge his shoulder before escaping.

You were gone to quickly, so you wouldn’t have seen the way he slumped in his chair, dropped his head into his hands. You wouldn’t have heard the pained sigh that escaped his lips at the thought have having to part with you.

The Mandalorian stood at the top of the ramp with you, staring out across the dusty, volcanic terrain of Nevarro. Your new home for… however long.

You said nothing, running your fingers along the edge of your cloak, observing the landscape and trying not to let any emotion show on your face. You had kept up natural conversation the past few days. Saying nothing of the wrenching pain that tore in your chest every time you remembered you were departing.

Mando cleared his throat, one arm holding Grogu and the other hand resting on his hip in a gesture that was becoming painfully familiar, “Cara and Greef know you’re coming. They’ll be waiting in Cara’s office for you.”

Grogu was sulking, squirming every now and then to try and get out of Mando’s grip. He had screamed the whole morning, and only calmed down when you hugged him and sung to him on the way here.

You nodded, also trying to ignore the thoughts swirling round in your mind as to why he was leaving you here. Was it because of your argument? The way you had broken down in front of him? Or was it because of the other night? The way his fingers had run through your hair, and then trailed down your spine, mapping your tattoo. His bare fingers. The things he’d whispered to you, “I just... I need to do this, please… I’m sorry, but I cant-”

“I’ve been thinking about this for days..”

Had he known then that he was going to leave you here? Or was it after that, that he’d decided he had broken one too many rules and had to get rid of you.

Words floated over to you, and you realised he was talking again so you hauled your attention back to the conversation at hand.

“-safe here. No one will come looking for you. Greef has taken all the pucks that have come through with your name on them and Cara will do sweeps every couple of days to make sure.”

You looked down at your feet, a bitter feeling leeching through your veins that was getting stronger with every moment you got closer to leaving the Crest.

“Hey… look at me..”

It was that honey softness of the Mandalorian’s tone that finally had you looking up at him, your expression perfectly masked to hide every ounce of emotion in you aside from a calm neutrality.

He tilted his head a little, turning his body toward you, “Please don’t think I’m dumping you here. I had planned to bring you here since I destroyed the puck and the fob.”

Like that made you feel any better.

He must have read the flicker in your eyes, because he stepped closer, his hand lifting to your upper arm, “I want you to be safe.” You could almost feel his eyes boring into yours, “I am more than grateful for everything you’ve done for me. And the kid. More than you’ll ever know. But, travelling with me.. it only increases the target on your back. People know you’re with me. I don’t want that for you.. you deserve to be free..”

And what about what I want?

You only smiled, forcing your expression to one of a lighter one and you nudged him gently, “Hey, I get it. You have to get rid of me because I’m showing you up on hunts. Can’t have anyone destroying your infamous reputation.” You rolled your eyes, laughing even if it did send daggers into your heart.

And his.

He squeezed your shoulder playfully, then dropped his hand. “You’re hilarious. I told you, the day you beat me is the day the stars implode.” You could feel a line of humour in his voice though, and it softened your shoulders, made you relax.

He was doing this to keep you safe. He had planned this for weeks so you could have a break, a chance to rest.

So, you lifted your head a little higher, your smile becoming more real. “Thank you, Mando. For everything. I can’t ever repay you for this, for what you’ve done.” You motioned to the outside.

He nodded, his hand resting at his sides again now, “We’ll call it even.” His head remained focused on you, lingering on you and then he reached into a pouch and held out his free hand, “Here.”

You let him drop the objects in your hand, a small stack of credits.

“It’s not much, I know, but it’ll be enough to get you some food and supplies you need. You don’t need to worry about a place to stay, Cara will show you but… You can get what you want and need.” He withdrew his hand slowly, almost reluctantly.

You swallowed, closing your hand around the credits and you slipped them into the pocket inside your cloak. “Thank you..”

The Mandalorian merely nodded again, leaning back against the threshold of the ramp, his thumb absently rubbing circles on Grogu’s belly.

It seemed that there was nothing else to draw this goodbye out, so you took a breath, straightening your cloak. “Well… I guess I’ll say goodbye then.” You looked up at him, then stuck out your hand for his, realising only a few seconds later how dumb that was.

Before you could pull your hand back, he reached out and clasped your hand in his own, wrapping his fingers around your distinctly smaller hand. “Goodbye… princess.” You heard the smirk in his voice, and you couldn’t help the chuckle and the eye roll again, not failing to notice the way his hand tightened involuntarily and then withdrew.

You looked at Grogu in his other arm, who was still avoiding looking at the pair of you, wriggling in his father’s arms. You bent down to draw your face to his level and you stroked his ears, “I’ll miss you, little guy. Make sure to keep your dad on his toes, okay? You gotta make up for both of us now.” You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, feeling his little hand pat your cheek with a mournful noise. Tears burned the back of your eyes, so you leant back, instead picking up Duru so she could say goodbye.

Grogu cooed sadly again, stroking Duru’s cheek, looking up at her with his glossy eyes.

You let Duru but her head against him, chitter a goodbye and then you stepped back, allowing her to climb up your shoulders as you looked up at Mando.

You just watched him for a moment, his armour reflecting the light on one side and then, with a soft inhale of courage, you turned and walked down the ramp, Duru padding at your feet.

You had only just cleared the ramp, stepping onto the hard, compacted ground when Mando called out, “Wait.”

You turned quickly, hope blooming in your heart, in your expression though you tried to stop it.

He had made a step onto the ramp, body poised like it was trying to run to you but he was holding back. He hesitated, almost as if he were torn with what to say – or what not to say, but all that came out was, “Ret'urcye mhi.”

You couldn’t help the shiver that licked down your spine, the way his voice turned into dripping honey when he spoke Mando’a. “What does that mean..?” You prayed he couldn’t hear the slight hoarseness to your tone.

He tilted his head down to look at Grogu, then lifted it back up to you, “It means goodbye…. And maybe we’ll meet again..”

Your heart swelled a little, a flush of pain going through it but you smiled softer, your expression melting and you inclined your head slightly, “I would like that.. very much…”

There were a million other things that threatened to roll off your tongue, pour from you but before they could, you turned around, walking toward the town and feeling his eyes on you the entire time, burning into the back of your head like a fiery brand.

You were about 4 metres away when you heard Grogu start crying, when your own tears broke through and spilled down your cheeks. You kept walking, even when your vision began to blur and go fuzzy.

So you didn’t see the way Mando hugged Grogu closer, whispered, “I know, kid, I don’t want her to go either.”

You’d be okay. It would be fine.

So you and the Mandalorian were parting. It was no big deal. You had helped each other; you had returned each other’s debts. You owed each other nothing.

The sound of engines whirring filtered into your ears, and you waited until you heard the Crest lift from the ground before turning round.

You paused, wiping your cheeks as the ship that had become a haven of sorts lifted into the sky. It hovered for a second, as if hesitating and then shot up higher, taking with it the two people that you had come to mean more to you than you realised. It felt like the Razor Crest had taken your heart with it.

How comes you hadn’t realised before how much they meant?

Too late now.

You remained watching the sky, long after the ship had vanished into the atmosphere.

With a shuddering breath, you wiped your cheeks. You kissed Duru’s tail, and then returned to walking toward the town.

You’d be okay… right?

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#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #din djarin blurb #grogu #the force #star wars #rogue

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anika-ann · 5 years ago

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Of Jewels and Gems (B.B)

Type: One-shot, Reader-insert Word count: 1740

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Medieval AU with thief!Bucky and princess!reader.

Based on a prompt: ‘I snuck in the castle to steal the royal crown but I’m stealing you instead au’.

Warnings: briefest violence, mention of anxiety if you squint

A/N: Prompt is a courtesy of @caplanbuckybarnes ‘s challenge! Thank you for gathering so many wonderful ideas! Also, I did not follow the prompt entirely, but I’m sorta hoping that it’s okay 😇

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Your heels were clapping softly as you wished to blend with the shadows of the castle’s corridors, sweetly lit by many torches, casting a lovely game of shadows on the walls and warming the otherwise cold space. Most importantly though, the space the lit up was empty – and you allowed yourself to inhale and exhale in relief, tension leaving your shoulders at last.

Your sky-blue dress, threaded by silvery white as if to compliment the feast, the celebration of winter solstice, brushed the hard-stony floor with every step, a rustle tender like a breath, remaining elegant even as the door to the royal ballroom closed after you.

You had sought a moment of refuge from the attentive if not downright prying gazes, which never seem to leave your person as if expecting to find a flaw – a living proof of the princess not belonging on the throne, on her rightful place to take in only a few years’ time.

Not one guard dared to follow you; whether the expression on your face was to blame or your status of Crown Princess, you couldn’t find yourself to care, simply grateful to Gods for such blessing. Endlessly grateful for a brief moments of serenity and solitude with nothing but a literal whisper of ‘Thank Gods’ on your lips.

Should you take Gods’ name in vain, Queen’s voice echoed in your mind, they will punish you for your insolence.

And as mother had told you on numerous occasions, they truly did, the punishment appearing in front of your eyes as if from thin air.

With a muffled thud of expensive boots, a dark, strong male figure, clothed in an attire barely suitable for such memorable day, emerged from the shadows four feet from you, almost as if falling from the ceiling.

“Halt!” a strict voice ordered to the stranger instantly, the sound fazing you only for a fleeting moment as realization dawned to you; it was your own voice that had found its way out and echoed in the otherwise abandoned walls. “Show yourself!”

The man indeed halted in his steps, clearly taken aback by your presence, and slowly turned around to face you; only then you took notice of his hands cladded in black gloves, clutching a sack no bigger than his head.

Much to your surprise, a grin swiftly replaced the grimace twisting his unfamiliar face and his bright eyes seemed to light up while his gaze rudely roamed your figure, finally landing on your frowny expression.

“Ah, the princess herself! What an honour!” a deep timber of a voice called out.

Then the stranger attempted and failed to curtsy, giving you an impression of a man mocking you.

A righteous offence taken warmed up your head in an instant; yet, you had been taught to be nothing short of polite, ever, and so you approached the man with kindness and caution as if to battle his rudeness.

“What are you seeking in these corridors, my lord? You should not-“

“My lord!” he echoed, a blend of more mockery and awe colouring his voice in deep marron, his next slurred words giving away his origin – one that could have not be noble, ringing all alarm bells in your mind. ”Whadda polite thin’ ya’re.”

“Excuse me? And who do you believe to be to address me in such manner?!” you snapped back, forgoing all the manners you had been taught and reaching to your bodice for a hidden slot instinctively. “What is it you hide in your sack?”

His eyebrow rose in bewilderment, his smile widening visibly under his thick dark beard – however, you did not miss how his eyes flickered to your side, where your hand had sneaked to take a hold of your dagger.

One single step in your direction, a minute shift in his posture, and your weapon was drawn, blade in the height of his eyes; his pupils enclosed in blue-grey irises swiftly refocused on the sharp object, his hands slowly lowering the sack. Under your attentive gaze, he went to unwrap it.

“Do you not come closer or I shall call the guards!” you warned him, your voice rising in volume to emphasize your point, to show him that your actions and threats were as far from a jest as he could imagine.

“Just showin’ ya’ the sack, Princess, no need to get jumpy,“ the stranger grumbled, eyes never leaving yours as he revealed his secret.

A gasp of pure surprise and horror left your lips, a momentary weakness swaying your strength and causing you to lower the blade only a fraction. Spots danced in your vision upon the revelation.

In an instant, faster than you could ever hope to comprehend, a slightly painful twist of your wrist had you drop your weapon, a rustle of fabric the only warning before your back gently hit the wall with a soft thud, pinned by his body, entirely immobilized.

Before you could attempt a scream, a calloused hand covered your mouth – a dirty, filthy hand, one which had touched the royal crown (!) without permission, without any right--- and as if such insolence wasn’t insulting enough, the man, momentarily touching you as well, clearly attempted to steal it.

Attempted to steal the crown jewels!

Oh Gods-

The clank of your dagger on the stony floor broke the vicious circle of your consternation; however, you couldn’t bear tearing your gaze away from the handsome face as you found it in such close quarters with yours, few inches only. Hard warm body had found its way to press against yours further, hard and yet almost soft, as if holding you down with care.

Perhaps you should have tried and alert the guards even incapacitated--- however, you couldn’t. Your shock at the impertinence of this man was long gone, its rightful place taken by awe at his startling beauty.

Your heart was attempting to beat its way out of your chest, for reasons you seemed to be unable to fully grasp; never you had thought fear was so near to excitement and fascination. You never hoped a man’s body touching yours could feel so wonderful.

“I don’t like bein’ rude, doll.”

Not even the contradiction of such sentence – calling you a doll, which for an explicable reason brought you pleasure, and the exclaim of his aversion to disrespect – could hope to snap you from your trance.

The huff of exasperation against his palm was more of an instinct, half-heartedly meant, as your eyes seemed to have a mind of their own, unable to escape the trap of his gaze.

“So I gotta introduce myself,” the stranger hummed, observing you with equal interest as if he saw you for the first time, as if all of your people didn’t know your face. “They call me Winter.”

Every muscle in your body tensed at the exclaim and yet, you turned nearly limp in his hold as you succumbed to the sudden faintness.

Winter.

You have heard of that name, clad in a fog of mystery. Winter, the fabled thief, given the name for he was always coming on days of celebrations of the winter solstice; and yet, while all kingdoms remained at highest alert for the fear that he would arrive at their doorstep, he always managed to slip through their fingers, almost as if being a master of mystical arts.

Some didn’t believe in his existence as such at all; however, the losses in royals’ and noble’s belongings were far too real for the man to be a mere legend.

In this moment, Winter – especially since standing right in front of your own eyes – appeared indeed startlingly real.

And as much as such realization was disconcerting, you felt yourself being thoroughly charmed and fascinated.

Your mind could not but race to solve the mystery – how many gems he had stolen before they began to reflect in his face? Eyes like topazes, threaded with silver lining, precious ruby lips hidden in a rich dark beard covering a jaw worth of royalty. A golden crown would complete the picture and perhaps its glow already twinkled in the thief’s irises.

“I don’t wanna hurt ya’, pretty doll. So, don’t ya’ scream, yeah?” Winter whispered a secret, a plea, and you couldn’t but comply, even if you found yourself missing the warmth and weight of his palm. A smile graced his lips again, your heart replying with a flutter. “I’m gonna walk away and you’re not gonna say a thin’ ‘bout me, yeah?”

The gems glimmering in his eyes shone brighter as they indulged in observing your face with something resembling attraction as you she battled with yourself, vainly attempting to overcome the spell he put on you, causing you to only nod – rather than acting upon a rational thought and calling for guards to capture the infamous thief.

The most skilled thief you had ever encountered; though you had not met many.

Rough fingers with the softest touch brushed your cheek and you wondered how only was it possible to steal someone’s breath, the air from their lungs; for this was what it felt like, a brief encounter of skin and skin, fleeting, yet eternal as your face appeared to absorb the heat of his touch.

A playful smile, a smirk blending into a tender grin, spread your assailant’s mouth.

“Next time… I’m stealin’ the real crown jewel, Your Highness,” a confident exclaim left his lips before they encountered yours in a hasty peck, pleasant warmth only lasting a moment, yet long enough to ignite fire in your bones. Your eyes nearly fluttered shut in an unexpected bliss.

He had the audacity to wink at you as he took his retreat, claiming both his price and your dagger for a good measure, still smiling, as if the weapon meant a memento to him.

He left you in your stupor, form unmoving besides the swift motions of your chest as you hoped to catch your breath, to calm your fluttering heart and tingling fingertips and most importantly, to regather your wits.

Winter had already taken his leave long ago when you, in your mind, proclaimed him the most skilful thief in seven kingdoms indeed – for he had stolen your breath… and perhaps captured your heart as well.

Of that you were certain when the next day, you could feel your face light up as a brand-new dagger was brought to you by your loyal handmaiden Wanda, along with a note written in charming cursive, without a name signed yet self-explanatory:

Till next time, Jewel mine.

And you felt as if the next-time couldn’t arrive soon enough, your body already aching for your missing heart.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Of Thieves and Queens of Hearts (sequel, ‘one-shot’)

B.B. masterlist (...yes, it’s that short)

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Thank you for reading!

And wow, look at that, I wrote something short again; I blame my poor attempts at writing Bucky 😄

#cappysforeverchallenge #fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier imagine #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #captain america #medieval au #au #thief bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #of jewels and gems #anika ann

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igirisuhito · 4 years ago

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Title: Live for the Night Relationship(s): Komaeda Nagito/Hinata Hajime Rating: Explicit Summary: Hinata has been single for quite a long time. Wingman Souda seeks to change that by bringing him to his favourite nightclub and introducing him to his rave buddies. Hinata, however, has eyes for much less favourable company. Based on @devilcouldweep‘s Rave AU Trigger Warnings: Recreational drug use, alcohol, sex under the influence, Mentions of drug overdose, discussions of stabbings, Public sex. Disclaimer: Other old fic with some stuff I’m embarrassed about. Quality is lower.

[Ao3 Link]

♫♪.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪

"Souda…I look like a twink."

Hinata stared at himself in the mirror, reflecting on how long it had taken him to wrangle those fishnets that now clung to his chest and three quarters of the way down his arms. The elastic around his neck rubbed uncomfortably against his adam’s apple and every now and then the netting would catch on his nipples. The stockings had been much worse to put on, but weren’t uncomfortable in the same way the top was.

Over the fishnet top was a white crop top he had borrowed from Souda that sported a neon sunset and the words ‘Jabberwock.’ He recalled thinking ‘What the fuck is a Jabberwock?’ whilst slipping it on. To cover the fishnets on his lower half he wore a pair of ripped skinny jeans, less ripped and more gutted than anything. And to top it all off were these white platform sneakers he’d bought because they were ‘cool’ way before he realised they were platforms. Oh well, it’s not like he couldn’t use a few extra inches.

Hinata crossed his arms over his midsection, a pathetic attempt to hide the exposed skin. Souda simply laughed, joining his soul friend's side and slinging an arm over his shoulder. "That's the point man! We gotta reel you in some dick somehow!"

Hinata groaned as the boy cackled, threading his fingers under the fishnets adorning his hips. This was the first time he'd worn something like this, and no amount of shitty vodka cruisers were making him feel less insecure.

Souda himself was wearing these baggy pants with reflective stripes and numerous pockets and a pair of those popular light up shoes, the ones that change colour with every step. On the top half he wore a studded white leather harness that settled snugly just below his pecs and a sleeveless hoodie to make him look almost modest. His hair was it’s usual dyed neon pink and spiked as if he intended to use it as a weapon.

“Souda...you know I give more than I take, right?” Hinata muttered, almost offended that his ever-so-supportive friend had just assumed he was a bottom.

“Well lately you haven’t been doing either!” Souda grabbed his shoulders with both hands, practically shaking the poor boy. “C’mon man you look sooo good! If I was gay I’d fuck you!”

Hinata rolled his eyes. “I’ve never met a straight man who’d wear a harness.”

“Uh, what about, literally every dog ever?”

“You’re not a dog.”

“Whatever! Let’s just go!”

Hinata snorted. It seemed entertaining Souda in his shitty attempts to get him a boyfriend was going to pay off. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah!” Souda cheered, pumping his right fist in the air and slapping Hinata’s ass with his left hand simultaneously. He couldn’t even be embarrassed, not when it was from So-not-gay Souda.

The duo took a cab to their destination, despite Souda insisting that they should walk to save money. Hinata would pay anything to not be seen outside in this. Especially not by somebody he knew. They were headed to a rave club in a less favourable part of town, one Souda insisted ‘wasn’t as bad as it seems!’ It was definitely as bad as it seems, like, there had been 3 stabbings in that club. Twice it had been the same fucking guy, and Hinata wasn’t sure if he should chalk that up to bad luck or blatant idiocy. Who would go to a club where they had already been stabbed once, just to get stabbed again?

Souda seemed to notice that Hinata’s thoughts were quickly going in a poor direction, so he decided to distract him with idle chatter. “I think you’ll like some of my friends there.”

Hinata turned to the boy sitting to his left, wearing a rather curious expression. “You have friends?”

“Shut up, you’re awful!” Souda whined, trying to sound mad but failing miserably. “Anyway, there’s this guy named Tanaka, he works at a zoo, how fucking cool is that?! Though he refers to himself as ‘The Supreme Overlord of Ice.’ I think it’s meant to be some kind of stage name or something?”

Stage name? What fucking stage is he working on at a zoo?

“Sounds like quite the character, huh.” Hinata murmured.

“You’ll get it when you meet him!” Souda beamed, glancing out the window. “Oh hey, we're almost there!”

The nervousness Hinata was feeling finally overtook the embarrassment. Souda gave him a reassuring tap on the shoulder as the taxi pulled up outside of the club. He could already hear the muffled music blaring from inside.

Hinata paid the driver and the two of them stepped out. The first thing they noticed was how fucking cold that breeze was, espeically when neither of them had proper sleeves. They both rushed towards the entrance, the bouncer barely looking at them before allowing them in. Hinata added that to the list of 'things that make this place sketchy.'

Nothing could have prepared him for the absolute assault on his senses that occured the second he entered the building. Loud music with heavy bass blared throughout the venue, drowning out the sound of Souda excitedly chattering next to him. The air reeked of sweat, booze, and artificial smoke. The strobe lights dancing around the place were quite dizzying, something that forced Hinata to look down to avoid the nausea. Oh, his shirt is glowing, they must be using blue light.

Hinata took a moment to admire the neon on his shirt, beginning to understand exactly why Souda had lent him this one in particular. It looked much less tacky and actually kind of cool under the bright lights.

“Oi, Hinata!”

A voice close to his ear startled him. He jumped back, sighing with relief once he realised it was only Souda. He too was glowing under the nights, his neon pink hair shining like a beacon and the leather harness glowed a soft shade of blue. It was really aesthetically pleasing.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Hinata spoke loudly, trying to make himself heard above the music.

“I’m gonna go find Tanaka and Mioda, you wanna get started at the bar?”

“Yeah, alright.”

And in the blink of an eye Souda was gone. Hinata sighed, disappointed but not surprised that his friend had run off almost immediately. He stepped out onto the dancefloor, shoving his way through the numerous bustling bodies and making his way towards the glowing neon lights of the bar.

He finally made it out, breathing a sigh of relief as he leant his elbows onto the scarred wood of the bar. If the amount of people wasn’t already overwhelming, the atmosphere just strangled the breath from him. It felt as if eyes were boring into him from all directions, judging, enticing. Hinata shook off the feeling, drawing it up to just nerves and the sensation of his exposed skin.

“Can I get you anything?” A voice snapped him from his thoughts, Hinata looked up, seeing the bartender staring him down like an unwanted guest.

He swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. “U-um, yeah...could I get a shot of Smirnoffs?

The bartender nodded and grabbed a bottle from under the bar. She carefully poured him a shot of the cheap vodka, sliding it towards him before wandering off to serve other customers. She was quite a busty lady, definitely put in this kind of place as a means of encouraging more people to buy more overpriced liquor. She sounded cheery as she sparked up conversations with clubgoers, but Hinata could see those dark bags under her eyes, the way her smile dimmed as she listened to them. It was quite obvious she hated her job and was well aware that she was being exploited.

Hinata lifted the small glass to his lips, downing the shot quickly before setting the glass back down on the counter. He sighed off the burn and turned around, scanning the crowd to see if he could find Souda.

Instead of Souda, Hinata found his eye being caught by the boy to his left who was also leaning against the bar. He hadn’t been there a moment before, but Hinata was immediately intrigued by his glowing blue hair and odd getup, one not so different from his own.

His hair was a gravity defying mess, with the blue glow it reminded Hinata a bit of cotton candy. His chest was clad in a cropped fishnet quite similar to his own, though his arms were covered by a dark coloured coat decorated with glowing blue squares on the right shoulder. There was a pair of green and pink glow sticks fixed to his left sleeve just above the elbow, similar to how a student council member wore a red armband. Perhaps it symbolised something in a similar way?

Below his exposed waist was a pair of low riding jeans that were a bit lighter in colour, but not light enough to pick up the blue light. His belt was, however, along with the cuffs of his jeans resting just below the knee above his boots. Speaking of the boots, they were...eccentric. They were sharp with a pointed toe and a slight heel and somehow made Hinata feel a little less insecure about his own choice in dangerous footwear.

The boy must have noticed Hinata’s gawking because as his eyes wandered back up he found that stare being returned. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to mutter out an apology. The boy interrupted him before he could get it out, however.

“You’re new.” He smiled, leaning in close to make sure his voice was heard. “What’s your name?”

Hinata forced his hands into his pockets, trying to look as casual as possible as if he hadn’t been ogling the boy just a moment ago. “Hinata Hajime.”

“Hinata Hajime…” Komaeda practically rolled the words around on his tongue. “May I call you Hinata-kun?”

“Sure. What about you, what’s your name?” Hinata narrowed his eyes, feeling a bit frustrated that the alcohol wasn’t taking the edge off his anxiety.

“Ah, how rude of me. My name is Komaeda Nagito, you can call me whatever you please.” Komaeda smiled widely, as if exchanging names was further than he expected to get. “What brings you to Hope’s Summit?”

“Eh, I was peer pressured into coming by a friend.” Hinata muttered, a little embarrassed now that he had to explain his presence to a stranger. “I don’t usually come to places like this…”

Komaeda pursed his lips together, bringing his hand to his chin. “Hm, that makes sense. I’m quite the regular here, but mostly because I-”

“OI! HINATA!!”

Hinata snapped around, not listening to the end of Komaeda’s sentence. Souda was waving from the crowd, quickly approaching him with two other people trailing behind him.

“Oh, how awkward. I’m gonna head off. I hope to see you again, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda spoke softly, but just loud enough for only Hinata to hear.

Hinata turned back around to farewell Komaeda but he was already gone, likely he had already slipped into the crowd. He sighed, bringing his full attention back to the excited boy in front of him.

“Mioda, Tanaka, this is Hinata, my soul friend! Hinata, this is Mioda and Tanaka, my rave friends!” Souda beamed, hopping up and down and gesturing wildly.

“Hajime-chan!” A girl with black hair dyed with colourful streaks that had been styled up into horns practically squealed upon seeing Hinata, instantly rushing up to him and throwing her arms around the confused boy. “Kazuichi-chan never shuts up about you! So, are you into moshing? Raving? OOOOH you HAVE to listen to my songs!!”

The scene girl stared at Hinata with wide eyes that practically sparkled in the dark. He took a small step, only to bump straight into the other boy that Souda had introduced, Tanaka.

“Be cautious, mortal! It appears that despite only having entered this building mere moments ago, you have already encountered a cursed being…” He boomed in a gruff voice, grabbing hold of Hinata’s shoulders.

This only startled him further, leading Hinata to push Tanaka away from him. “Take a step back! Geez! What the fuck are you saying?”

“Guys I know you’re excited but give him room.” Souda stepped between Hinata and Mioda, encouraging the girl to exit his personal space. “Tanaka was just pointing out the fact you were talking to...what’s that guy’s name again?”

“Komaeda.” Hinata mumbled.

“Komaeda! Right.” Souda affirmed, smiling a little

“OOH! Creepy drug dealer Komaeda?” Mioda somehow sounded rather excited about that.

“Creepy drug dealer?” Hinata questioned.

Tanaka nodded. “That’s correct. That fiend uses this venue as a means of dispensing his poison.”

“Yeah, yeah! One of Ibuki’s friends O’Ded on a bunch of the pills he sold him! He’s no good! He doesn’t even dance!”

Hinata was a little confused. Yeah the guy was intimidating but not...creepy? Also, isn’t it the responsibility of whoever’s taking the drugs not to take too many? It’s not like Komaeda shoved them down his throat… Though admittedly the prospect of Komaeda being a drug dealer did put him off a little.

“He doesn’t seem that bad.” Hinata defended him, despite not really being sure why.

“You should probably stay away from him anyway, Hinata bro. C’mon, there’s plenty of other fish in the sea!” Souda cheered, slapping him hard on the back.

The other boy winced, feeling somewhat shaken by the events that were going down. Man he expected Souda’s friends to be eccentric but...they were fucking crazy. He almost wanted to go back to chatting with chill cotton candy boy. At least he respected boundaries.

“Right, sure. Hey, I’ve already had a few drinks so I’m gonna go take a piss. Feel free to get started without me.” Hinata flashed the group a forced smile, before dashing off into the crowd before any of them could object.

Once he felt thoroughly out of sight, he sighed loudly. It was weird that he felt more comfortable being surrounded by random people who weren’t talking to him than he did with that little bundle of freaks. That was until that comfortable mass of people suddenly reached out and grabbed ahold of his wrist. He froze in pure fear.

“Hinata-kun! How lucky it is that I get to see you again!”

His racing heart slowed a little as he recognised the voice along with that fluffy bundle of hair and much too exposed chest. It was just Komaeda, creepy drug dealer Komaeda.

“Jesus christ please don’t scare me like that!” He hissed, drawing in a little closer so he could properly hear the other boy.

Komaeda laughed cheekily, giving Hinata a big grin. “I’m going to assume your friends told you about the kind of person I am, huh?”

“Huh? Were you listening or something?”

“No, but it’s what most people who drag newcomers along do. I’m surprised they didn’t warn you earlier!”

“...Is that why you pounced on me at the bar?”

Komaeda bit his lip, averting his gaze a little. “Ah, I must have come on too strongly. I'm sorry, it’s not often people don’t outwardly reject me. Not that they aren’t right to do so, I’m quite worthless trash, after all.”

Hinata ignored the self deprecation, deciding to instead tackle the root of the problem. “So Komaeda, why do you come here then?”

“Socialisation, appreciation of the music, the fact the business doesn’t care if I deal here, I can dress like a male stripper without being judged. There’s a few reasons Hinata-kun, would you like to hear more?”

Hinata shook his head, feeling a little embarrassed by the fact Komaeda actually admitted the last one. “No no that’s enough. So uh, why do you deal drugs?”

“Hmm, why do you think I deal drugs, Hinata-kun?”

Hinata pressed a fist to his lips in thought. “Poor financial situation?”

Komaeda cackled as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard before shaking his head. “No, god, if anything it’s the opposite. I do it because it’s fun. I like giving people a new perspective on the world, a chance to enjoy themselves even more so than usual.”

“I see…” Hinata mumbled. “You aren’t dealing any like...hard drugs, are you?”

Komaeda waved his hands innocently. “No no not at all. I’ve tried heroin, that stuff is way too addictive for me to just be passing it around. I don’t deal any kinds of opioids at all, actually. Mostly just cannabis, MDMA, LSD occasionally. Oh! And ketamine, that’s been really popular recently.” He clapped his hands together in completion.

“Wow...so Mioda’s friend who overdosed-”

“Was an idiot, yes.” Komaeda sighed, rolling his eyes and crossing his over his chest. “I did tell him to slow down, but you know how people can be. Getting overzealous isn’t going to make you any higher.”

“I guess...” Hinata was feeling a little guilty for bringing up something that obviously frustrated Komaeda. “Is that kind of high really worth risking your health for?”

“Well, if you’re smart about it you’re usually fine. Especially with stuff like ecstasy, the serotonin drawback is easily managed and the high is…” Komaeda’s lips curved into an impossibly wide grin and his voice dipped a little. “It’s really worth it.”

“R-really? I have heard that ecstasy is one of the more enjoyable drugs you can do...”

“Mm? You wanna try some?” Komaeda smirked, reaching into his coat pocket before pulling his hand out to reveal a small baggie containing several hot pink coloured tablets.

Hinata’s brain instantly recoiled. Years of anti-drug and peer pressure campaigns told him he absolutely shouldn’t. He didn’t know this man, he didn’t know this drug. Smoking weed in Souda’s garage didn’t compare to doing ecstasy with a complete stranger.

And yet he was completely entranced as Komaeda plucked a pill from the bag between two fingers. He smirked, looking down at the other boy like a predator eyeing up it’s prey.

“The choice is yours, Hinata-kun.”

Komaeda poked out his tongue, carefully placing the neon tablet onto it. Hinata felt as if he was on fire, especially after hearing his name on those sultry lips. The pill glowed under the bluelight, beginning to dissolve from Komaeda’s saliva. The boy huffed, urging him to make the decision before it disappeared completely.

That was enough to send the blood straight from the decision making centre of his brain and straight to the teenage boy part of his brain that said ‘Fuck it; he’s really hot.’

Hinata grabbed the taller boy, wrapping his fingers in the little fishnet crop top he wore. He stuck his own tongue out, pulling Komaeda in closely until their tongues made contact and he could pull the pill onto his own. It tasted bitter and tarty, but that elated look on Komaeda’s face kept him from pulling away.

The other boy took over, pushing the pill further onto Hinata’s tongue until the kiss had returned to his mouth. He eyed Hinata’s throat closely, continuing to kiss him deeply whilst watching for that telltale bob of his throat which came moments later. He’d swallowed it.

Komaeda broke off the kiss, not missing the little whine that left Hinata’s throat as he pulled away. He took another pill from the baggie and placed it on his tongue again before shoving the rest in his pocket. “H-huh...you want me to take two? Is that even safe...?” Hinata stammered, eyeing the other boy cautiously.

Komaeda drew his tongue back into his mouth, dry swallowing the pill as if it was what he was born to do. “What? You thought you were the only one getting high? I can give you another if you’d like.”

“No no, I just assumed you were already high…” Hinata spoke at a normal volume, which made him quite difficult to hear.

Komaeda broke into a fit of laughter, startling Hinata. “Oh wow you really haven’t done this before have you? I’m not going to give you any more, one is more than enough.”

Logical thought was starting to return to Hinata; he was nervous now. “That’s fine...uh...what should I expect?”

“Oh, right. It takes about half an hour to an hour to kick in. You’ll probably feel nauseous first. If you need to hurl, just let it happen. You should start feeling the effects not long after that.” Komaeda took a hold of Hinata’s hand, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles reassuringly.

“Right. Cool. That’s exciting. Uh, say Komaeda…” Hinata trailed off for a few seconds, but jumped back in to the sentence before the other boy could question it. “You mentioned earlier that you like the music right? What kind of artists are you into?”

“Hmm, I’m into more obscure artists than anything. Uhhhh...Have you heard of EDEN?”

“Never. “

“That’s unfortunate. What about...Deadmau5?”

“Oh I know him! Classic. Not a big fan of his songs though. Have you heard of David Guetta?”

Komaeda clicked his tongue. “Of course. Generic, but he has some good songs.. Porter Robinson?”

“Ehh I’ve vaguely heard of him? What about Dillon Francis?”

“Also painfully generic. Krewella?”

“Don’t know 'em. Martin Garrix?”

“Appeals too much to the masses. Uhm surely you’ve heard of Daft Punk?”

“Duh, who hasn’t. Their music’s a little too mellow for me, though. Avicii?”

“GOD Avicii! His music is brilliant. All his songs are quite tragic to listen to now though.” Komaeda breathed a sigh of relief, thankful they could find common ground amongst Hinata’s painfully vanilla taste. “Such an unfortunate loss of somebody with such shining hope…”

Hinata nodded in agreement, also recalling how heartbreaking it was to lose such a talented artist. They chatted for a short while about their favourite songs by him, bonding over their attachment to the lyrics. As if on queue actually, one of his songs started playing loudly over the speakers littered throughout the venue. The Nights, specifically.

“Huh. Ironic.” He murmured.

“Is it? He was a very talented and popular DJ after all.”

“Whatever! Dance with me.”

Hinata hadn’t noticed Komaeda let go of his hand during their conversation, so naturally it was his duty to remedy that. He grabbed ahold of those skinny fingers, pulling Komaeda closer.

Komaeda was quite surprised by Hinata’s sudden burst of confidence, but most certainly welcomed it. It wasn’t before long that they were both belting out the lyrics as loudly as they could whilst clinging to one another and swaying. Hinata felt absolutely ecstatic, as if he was walking on air with the prettiest boy in this stupid place.

Until the nausea hit him like a sack of bricks.

He gagged against Komaeda’s shoulder, cupping his hand over his mouth aggressively. Komaeda wasn’t kidding when he said he was probably gonna throw up, geez…

“Ah, sorry Hinata-kun, I wasn’t paying attention.” Komaeda chuckled softly as he slid his hand up the other boy’s arm a little, pressing his thumb into the soft part of his wrist an inch or so below his palm. Almost immediately Hinata’s nausea began to ease off, leaving him feeling quite delirious.

“Wh-what kind of spell did you just cast on me, Komaeda?” Hinata stared at Komaeda as if he were a god among men.

“It’s a pressure point.” He smirked, drawing in a little closer to bask in Hinata’s loving gaze. “If you feel better than you’ll probably be fine, luck is on our side.”

Hinata giggled, using his free hand to place his hand on Komaeda’s face. “You’re pretty.”

Komaeda returned the gesture, despite being a little upset Hinata completely ignored his explanation. “You’re high.”

“We both are! Y’know what that means?”

“What does it mean, Hinata-kun?”

Hinata answered the question by planting his lips on Komaeda’s. Which wasn’t really an answer, but he leaned into the kiss regardless.

It took no time at all for Hinata’s innocent kiss to turn more intimate. Soft swipes of wet tongues had the two of them melting into each other. Hinata’s hands roamed higher, fingers wrapping in those messy blue curls as he revelled in the texture. Komaeda’s hands drifted lower, settling on the other boy’s exposed hips as he lightly brushed his fingers over the skin.

Hinata curled a small chunk of hair around his fingers and tugged harshly, pulling Komaeda’s face even closer as their teeth knocked together. A low moan left his throat, absolutely enthralled by the pain rippling through his skull. This only roused Hinata further; the boy suddenly grinding his hips into Komaeda’s.

In all honesty, Komaeda didn’t expect to get this far. Of course he was attracted to Hinata, especially the innocent way he assumed no ill in his intentions. And Hinata was quite obviously attracted to him, evident by the was he completely undressed Komaeda with his eyes upon their first encounter. Hinata shouldn’t have come back after learning he was unfavourable company. Hinata shouldn’t have so easily warmed up to him. Hinata most certainly shouldn’t have taken that pill right off his tongue. Komaeda just kept pushing and pushing, trying his luck even further and it just kept working.

It was wrong, dangerous, but he couldn’t stop. Especially not now that both of them had basically thrown away all fear and impulse control with just one little pill.

So Komaeda did the same thing he had been doing all night, acting on those shameful urges of his. His hands slid over Hinata’s hip bones, then down to squeeze his ass through his jeans. Hinata startled, squeaking as he pulled back to take a breath of air.

Both of them were left panting, the room feeling significantly warmer than before. Not once did they break eye contact whilst trying to regain their breath, as if each one was trying to figure out what the other was thinking. Surprisingly enough, it was Komaeda this time who decided to make his desires clear.

He leaned closer, down as close as he could get to Hinata’s ear before whispering out one word, “More.”

Hinata moaned loudly, despite all that was done to him was purely audial. Komaeda couldn’t help but laugh, bewildered by the odd reaction. He went to straighten back up, but Hinata’s grip in his hair tightened. “K-keep talking…”

“Hmm? What would you like to hear,” Komaeda’s voice dropped an octave as he dragged the name out, “Hi-na-ta-kun?”

A whimper was contained behind Hinata’s lips as he pressed his thighs together, a weak attempt to steady his building arousal. Komaeda smirked, knowing he’d hit the mark. The drug was making Hinata’s hearing sensitive, so every sound felt better than it was in reality. He couldn’t deny that he was feeling the same way, but right now there was only one sound he wanted to hear.

Komaeda kissed his temple, trailing light little kisses down Hinata’s jaw until he settled on a soft part of his neck, giving it a curious lick. The other boy writhed beneath him, practically begging Komaeda to do something. He sunk his teeth in, eliciting a high pitched whine from the other boy as he pushed himself even closer.

“Komaed-aaaaa!” Hinata squealed, hitching his leg around the other’s waist. Komaeda wrapped his arms around Hinata’s back, ensuring neither of them lost their balance in the process. He sucked at the irritated skin, occasionally grazing his teeth across the wound. Hinata seemed to be getting a lot of pleasure out of it, judging by the way he rubbed his crotch against the front of Komaeda’s jeans. Komaeda couldn’t deny that he was mimicking those motions himself.

“K-komaeda...I can’t- I can’t keep doing this…” Hinata huffed, seemingly out of breath.

Komaeda pulled away from the boy’s neck feeling a little disappointed. “Oh? Have you finally realised what worthless garbage I truly am?” He topped the sentence off with a little laugh, one that he intended to be dark but was just high and giggly.

“No! Not at all! You’re amazing Ko! You’re making me feel so,” Hinata gyrated his hips, moaning out the rest of his sentence, “ so good.”

Never did Komaeda expect that sentence to make him so flustered. He swallowed hard, attempting to regain his self-control so he didn't start fucking him right there on the dancefloor. “W-we should take this elsewhere…”

Hinata’s eyes lit up as if he were a little kid on Christmas. He slid his leg down off the other boy’s waist and let go of his hair before straightening up and tugging his fishnets back up his hips, acting all proper as if he hadn’t been dry-humping somebody moments ago. “Yes. That sounds...great.”

They shared a nod, then Komaeda wrapped his fingers around Hinata’s wrist and began to lead him through the crowd. Hinata could barely contain his excitement, grinning from ear to ear at the thought of spending more time with Komaeda, being touched, touching him. It all felt much too good. It would also be great to relieve the throbbing boner that was chafing against his underwear.

Komaeda pulled them from the dancefloor, more towards the back of the building. Hinata swore he saw a flash of pink hair as they passed the bar, but he concluded that it was probably just the strobe lights. Komaeda pushed open the door to the men’s restroom, and suddenly they were stood in a bright room trying to blink away the burn of the lights. Hinata whined and squeezed his eyes closed.

The taller boy pulled him into the very end stall, clicking the lock shut behind them. “Hinata-kun, c’mon, open your eyes…”

Hinata grumbled, slowly blinking and rubbing at his eyes as they adjusted to the foreign light. Despite still squinting he was able to actually get a good look at Komaeda now. He was paler than expected, and that cotton-candy coloured hair was actually a snow white. His eyes were a soft grey, well, what he could see past those blown pupils. Those thin lips were swollen and red from their passionate makeout. He was just as attractive without those neon lights.

Komaeda stared, shocked by what he was seeing before him. Not because Hinata looked different without the dark lights, or the large red hickey decorating his neck. He threaded his fingers into his own hair, making a wheezy little laughing sound.

He couldn’t believe it, Hinata’s pupils were quivering.

“Hmm? Do you like what you seeeee?” Hinata giggled, clearly appreciating the attention.

“Yes, it’s just, wow...we should do this before you get over your peak huh?”

“Peak?”

“Mhmm,” Komaeda leaned in close to Hinata’s ear, “right now your senses should be at their highest point.”

Ridiculously enough, Hinata’s knees immediately went weak upon hearing that seductive voice again. Komaeda took the opportunity to place his hands on Hinata’s hips and force his back into the wall, the cold tiles burning at his exposed waist.

They kissed again, but this time it was sloppy and desperate. Komaeda’s tongue in Hinata’s mouth, then Hinata’s tongue in Komaeda’s mouth. Drool dribbled down Komaeda’s chin when he lost focus for a moment whilst unbuttoning Hinata’s jeans.

Komaeda brought his hand to Hinata’s front and began to palm him slowly through his boxers. Hinata moaned into the kiss, leaning into Komaeda’s touch until he suddenly changed his mind. He brought his hand to the other boy’s wrist, pulling back.

“Wait wait wait...could you fuck me instead?” He whispered, voice low despite not possessing a hint of hesitation.

Komaeda chuckled. “Here? Seriously.”

Hinata was confused for a moment before he noted the lack of space in the toilet stall. Komaeda shifted slightly, drawing attention to the way his shoes kept sticking to the floor. On the stall door and walls graffiti told tales of unrequited love and scrawled phone numbers. Everything about this was so gross, so filthy, so obscene. But that only seemed to make it all the more appealing.

“Pleeeeease fuck me, Komaeda Nagito.”

Komaeda put up his hands in a defensive pose, desperately trying to keep a grip on things before both of them got too out of hand. “Hooooold on, do you even have a condom?”

“Uuuuuhhh…” Hinata patted his front pockets then his back pockets. Fortunately his wallet was still there, but- Wait, something crinkled in the other pocket.

He pulled out the offending object and held it between two fingers. It was a condom in shiny green packaging. He couldn’t help but giggle, of course Souda had planted it on him earlier. “How lucky.”

Komaeda smirked, almost as if he knew this was going to happen. “Well, since you asked so nicely and even have a condom, I guess I can’t say no can I?”

“Y-you can say no!” Hinata protested.

“I know, I’m just messing with you.” Komaeda winked, plucking the wrapper from Hinata’s hands and shoving in into his front pocket. “I’ve wanted this, wanted you, all night.”

If he wasn’t already feeling impossibly hot, Hinata would have gotten even hotter at those words. The sheer desperation dripping from his voice reminded him of his own poorly neglected erection. Komaeda wiggled his thumbs underneath the waistline of Hinata’s jeans and pulled them down, letting them sit about halfway down his thighs. He then looped his fingers into the elastic of the fishnets, pulling it back a little before letting it snap back against Hinata’s stomach.

Komaeda laughed at the way Hinata yelped. “God I would’ve loved to fuck you in just the stockings. Just look at the way they squeeze into your chubby little thighs! Soo cute, Hinata-kun…”

"You can fuck me in them next time, just pleeeeeeease hurry up!" Hinata whined, puffing his cheeks out to express his frustration.

"Next time? Well, that better be a promise." Komaeda smirked to himself as he pulled down the boy's stockings, leaving his underwear now completely exposed.

Komaeda crouched down to his knees, feeling a little performative with the way Hinata's eyes burned into him. He placed his hands on the boy's hips before bringing his mouth to the wet patch on the front his boxers. Perhaps he should warn Hinata that this was going to feel a lot better than he remembered…or not.

Hinata gasped, his fingers finding their way back into those curly white locks. This seemingly egged Komaeda on and he pressed his whole face against Hinata's crotch, taking in a deep breath.

"You smell really good…"

"Grooooss!! How perverted are you?" Hinata put on a chastising tone, but his intrigued expression was very much betraying him.

"Veeeeerry." Komaeda mumbled against Hinata's clothed cock, sending small vibrations along the skin.

He slid his hands back up, tugging down the waistband of Hinata’s boxers. The exposure of his hot dick against the cold air made a shiver go down his spine. Komaeda just gaped, in complete awe at how hard and wet he already was.

Komaeda stuck out his tongue and licked a long stripe from the base of Hinata’s cock to the trip, drawing out a long and high-pitched moan. Hinata couldn’t believe how fucking good it all felt. Komaedas breath hot on his dick, the texture of every single taste bud stimulating the sensitive skin, the fishnets digging into his thighs and the way Komaeda’s nails gently grazed over his hips. It was too much, especially now that the boy’s lips were teasing at the reddened head and sucking in such a lewd way.

“K-komaeda...I think I’m already going to come…” Hinata huffed, tugging at the hair of the boy below him.

Komaeda took his hands and mouth away. “C’mon Hinata-kun, at least try to keep it together.” He teased, despite wanting nothing more than for Hinata to completely lose his mind.

Hinata whined at the lack of contact, but he seemed to recover slightly as he panted and leaned further back against the wall. “It’s just...it’s really good.”

“It’s supposed to be. Ah, screw it, even I can’t wait. Turn around.” Komaeda murmured away to himself, beginning to undo the clasp of his belt. This action was followed by the undoing of the front of his jeans, then both his jeans and boxers being messily pushed down.

Oh! The carpet does match the drapes!

Unsurprisingly, Komaeda was just as hard as he was. Precome shimmered under the bright lights coating nearly the entire tip of his cock. He reached into his jeans pocket, pulling the condom packet out and tearing it open with ease. Carefully he pulled the object from the wrapper (which was swiftly shoved back into his pocket) and brought it to the head of his dick, pinching the little tip as he rolled the latex down the shaft. It was a translucent green colour…

Hinata didn’t realise he had been gawking until Komaeda let go of the tip and spun his finger in a little circle in the air, reminding him that he was asked to turn around. He nodded quickly and bit his lip, attempting to suppress the child-like excitement bubbling up in his chest as he pressed himself against the cool tiles.

Hinata stepped his lower half back a little from the wall, allowing his back to curve in a way Komaeda couldn't help but adore. To express this newfound adoration, he brought his hand down hard on Hinata's right ass cheek, relishing in both the debauched sound he made and the red handprint marring his skin.

“So meaaaan…” Hinata snivelled, sniffing away fake tears.

Komaeda giggled a little at the comment, tracing his index finger down between Hinata’s cheeks until he settled at his entrance. It was slightly lubed from what he had picked up off the condom, but definitely not well enough to cause Hinata no pain. He could only hope that the boy could handle it.

He pressed the finger in, finding there was little resistance. Somewhat relieved, Komeda added a second, an action that caused the Hinata to squeeze his eyes closed tightly and huff. “That burns…”

Komaeda planted his other hand on the wall and leaned in close to his shoulder, whispering as closely to his ear as he could. “It’s okay, you’re doing great.”

The next noise Hinata made was one of pleasure, likely from hearing Komaeda’s voice again. He took advantage of the opportunity and pushed his fingers deeper, separating them slowly as Hinata made another pained expression.

“You’re such a good boy, just open up for me please.”

Another moan, Komaeda spread his fingers fully, another cry of pain.

“Yes, yes, that’s it Hajime-kun.”

Hinata’s whole body shivered upon hearing his first name. He could see himself getting really addicted to this, but he wasn’t sure if he was referring to the MDMA pumping through his veins or the praise of the boy above him.

Komaeda’s fingers disappeared, leaving him feeling empty but not upset. It was a sign of more to come. Hinata felt his heart begin to race impossibly quick as the head of Komaeda’s cock rubbed up against him.

“T-this is going to hurt.” Komaeda murmured.

“Do it. Break me.”

The little self restraint Komaeda had left snapped immediately upon hearing those words. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, and with some guidance he was already pushing into the other boy much too quickly. Hinata keened, his voice breaking halfway through that loud cry and he was left making a quiet raspy sound.

His whole body was on fire. He could feel Komaeda’s cock throbbing inside him, so desperate to start moving. His heart was pounding in his ears, feeling as though it was matching the muffled 180bpm music blaring beyond the walls. Telling Komaeda to do that was clearly not the best decision he had made this evening...along with pretty much everything else.

“You’re so ridiculously hot Hinata-kun...I...I think I’m losing my mind…” Komaeda wheezed, laughing softly as his breath huffed hot against Hianta’s ear.

Hinata moaned again and rolled his hips back onto Komaeda, he was getting antsy, he needed more. The pain didn’t matter, not compared to the urgent need to be touched and burn off this excess energy. “I stand by what I said, please, don’t hold back. I need more, Nagito.”

That was motivating enough for Komaeda, who moved his hips back before snapping them forwards. It didn’t hurt so much this time, in fact, it was actually starting to feel good. Komaeda nestled his head into the crook oh Hinata’s shoulder, smiling wide as he brushed his lips against his neck.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Hinata nodded, pressing his lips together tightly as he felt a drop of sweat roll down his forehead.

Komaeda thrust into the boy beneath him roughly, relishing in the whimpering sound he made along with the slap of skin on skin. “Whore.”

Hinata resented the way his dick twitched upon hearing that word. “Wh-whore…?”

“Hm? That’s what you are, aren’t you? You come to a club, you ditch your friends to go do drugs then get fucked by a random stranger. I’d say that’s some pretty whorish behaviour.”

Oh shit, Komaeda wasn’t wrong. He’d completely forgotten about Sou-

Komaeda thrust into him again, stealing the air from Hinata’s lungs. An intense pleasure shocked through his body and he gasped, shuddering with a moan upon the exhale. He swore his vision went black for a moment as all coherent thought was completely wiped from his brain. “H-holy shit…”

“Easy to please, too.” Komaeda grinned and he could hear it.

Komaeda placed a hand on his waist and finally started fucking him with an actual pace, something Hinata didn’t expect himself to be grateful for. He moaned unashamedly, fingers clawing at the tiles frantically for something to ground him; secure him in a hold that wasn’t just Komaeda’s. How did he even have this much control over his actions right now?!

“So pathetic. I bet you never thought things would end up like this, did you?” Komaeda whispered in that irresistible voice of his.

Hinata’s only response was to moan louder.

“Answer the question, Hajime.”

“N-ah! No! I-I di- hah- didn’t!”

A hand slid up his side, tickling the sensitive skin as he brushed over it. It felt as if fireworks burst under every spot Komaeda’s fingers touched, making him tremble all over. It was too much, too much, he’s so so hot. Even the tears on his cheeks weren’t helping at all to alleviate that heat in his face.

“It’s- hah- It’s so cute how worked up you are.” Komaeda’s composure dropped for a moment as he moaned right in Hinata’s ear. If Hinata could have broken right there, he would’ve.

Komaeda noticed the way Hinata’s muscles clenched around him upon hearing him moan. It was amusing and devastating all at once. Even if he tried to pretend it wasn’t, the ecstasy was still making his senses overwhelmingly strong. Instead of continuing to tease the boy, it would be better to let his actions push him over the edge. He quickened the pace of his hips, thrusting rather messily as he stopped suppressing the obscene sounds coming from his mouth.

Hinata’s brain was going haywire, soaking in everything at once to the point of overstimulation. The sensation of the smooth tiles against his hot cheek, the fingers lightly grazing his chest, the sweat dripping down his back, the loud moans of the boy in his ear, the hair tickling at his neck, the physical presence of Komaeda above him, the head of his cock grazing against Hinata’s prostate, the feeling of his balls hitting his taint with every thrust that signified he had taken the entirety of Komaeda’s-

Hinata screamed.

Komaeda wasn’t sure to be flattered or concerned. The other boy convulsed beneath him, making a sound somewhere between a sob and a moan. He was coming already after all that teasing? That's no fair.

Hinata’s knees gave out beneath him, which would have put both of them on the floor had Komaeda not wrapped his arms around the boy’s midsection. They were both wheezing and panting heavily, to the point that Komaeda didn’t even have the breath to tell him to snap out of it. He pressed Hinata harder into the wall to force him to stay up as he kept thrusting.

The boy beneath him near squealed as his overstimulated dick burned against the cold tiles Hinata couldn't tell if he was in pain because everything felt too good, much too good. His body only craved more of that stimulation, more touch more movement more sound. "M-more…"

If Komaeda was capable of coherent thought at this point, he would have definitely stopped to question it. But his thoughts were filled with one thing, Hinata, and how fucking good it felt being inside him. Either Kuzuryuu had supplied him pills cut with viagra, or Hinata was a fucking monster.

Hinata nodded, laughing a little as he looked down and realised he was still just as hard as before. "K-keep going…it hurts."

“Hinata-kun...hah- Hajime. ” Komaeda moaned, bringing both of his hands down to cling to Hinata’s hips and he pounded into him without abandon.

Hinata was completely pressed to the wall now, crying as his face was forced into the tiles. Every time Komaeda pushed back into him his body shuddered as pain and pleasure rippled through. There was no chance to push Komaeda away, he felt so light and weak, muscles completely surrendering as he whimpered against the tiles.

“I love you, I love you so much Hajime-kun!”

“I- hiii- I love you too, aha, Nagito…”

The logical part of his brain knew that that was wrong. How could he love somebody who he just met? But the logical part of his brain couldn't talk, and all he knew was that this kind of intimacy was loving, anybody who would touch Hinata was somebody he loved.

Komaeda giggled, his voice raising into a high pitched whine as he began to chant Hinata’s name. “You’re so good Hajime-kun! Hajime-kun Hajime-kuuuun!!!”

His thrusts became more erratic as he dug his nails into Hinata’s skin. He was so so so close he just needed a little bit more and he could-

“N-nagito!” Hinata wailed. “That hurts!!”

Koameda came with a loud cry, riding out his orgasm with slowed movements. Hinata was bawling now, snivelling and whimpering with small sounds that almost could’ve been Komaeda’s first name. The boy above him burned with shame as he realised he’d just come to Hinata crying his name and he liked it.

He pulled out of Hinata, then yanked up the boy’s underwear and sat him on the toilet seat, waiting for him to ride out the vertigo from his sensory overload. His tears had seemingly weaned off just from being sat down with nothing to touch him. Hinata stared with a blank expression, small sobs occasionally leaving his throat as Komaeda begun to clean himself up.

He pulled off the condom and tied it at the end, dropping it in the box designated for sharp waste, not that it was sharp waste, but rather it was convenient. Komaeda then tucked himself back into his boxers, pulling them and his jeans back up to where they sat on his hips previously before doing up the fly. Hinata made a whiny little noise, suddenly being brought back to earth. Komaeda knelt down in front of the toilet, bringing his hand up to the boy’s cheek. “Hey, are you okay?”

Hinata nodded. For some reason he was expecting the ecstasy to completely wear off once he came, but of course it didn’t. He still felt light and giggly, but even more so now that he was completely exhausted. “H-how can you still be moving…?”

“I’ve done this a few times before.” Komaeda smiled, before realising the implications of his words. “Ah, not having sex in a public bathroom, but MDMA.”

Hinata responded with a sound of acknowledgement.

Komaeda eyed his clothed erection. “I’m surprised you’re still hard after all of that. Would you like me to do something about it?”

Hinata shook his head. It was understandable, his nerves were probably on fire right now.

“Here, stand up so I can clean the cum off your stomach.” Komaeda stood up, extending an arm to the other boy.

He took it graciously, his knees stuttering a little as Komaeda hauled him to his feet. He flushed bright red upon remembering that they had been having very loud very public sex just moments ago. “That was....really good.”

Komaeda nodded, ripping some toilet paper off the roll, before bringing it to Hinata’s exposed belly. It tickled a bit, so he looked away to distract himself, only to stare directly at the white fluid that was dripping down the tiles now. God he was so disgusting.

“Oh, it got on your shirt too. Sorry…” Komaeda murmured, wiping that down as well.

“It’s f-fine, I’ll just wash it before g-giving it back to Souda.” Hinata stuttered out.

Komaeda snorted. “You sure Souda-kun’s gonna want it back?”

“Y-you’re a dick.” Hinata grumbled, punching the other boy’s shoulder lightly.

Komaeda seemed content with his job, kissing a soft reassuring kiss to Hinata’s cheek as he tossed the soiled paper into the toilet. He grabbed another bunch to clean up Hinata’s mess on the wall, which only made the boy feel more embarrassed.

“So what’s your plan now, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda asked the question without even turning to look at him. “Are you going to head back to the dancefloor or are you wiped?”

“I’m fucking wiped. But...I- I really want to keep going!” Hinata sighed, examining the damage to his shirt.

“In what sense?”

“Um, I wanna keep enjoying this...I guess? Going home alone to sleep just sounds like a waste…”

“Oh!” Komaeda spun around to look at Hinata. “I should’ve mentioned it earlier, but you’ll probably have a hard time getting to sleep.”

“Oh, great, that’s exciting!” Despite the remark being obviously sarcastic, the tone of Hinata’s voice didn’t quite express that. “Well, what do you plan to do?”

“Go home alone and try to go to sleep.”

“Oh.”

The silence between them stretched out for way too long, it was even more uncomfortable because Hinata couldn’t stop making these awkward giggly noises. Komaeda finished cleaning up and tossed the other bit of soiled paper into the toilet before flushing it.

Hinata suddenly broke the silence with a question. “Do you wanna come to my place and cuddle?”

Komaeda broke out into a loud cackle, one that made Hinata’s heart ache from the supposed rejection. “Oh Hinata-kun, please don’t toy with my feelings like that! We couldn’t do such a thing after I...defiled you in that way.”

“Huh?! What are you talking about?” Hinata pouted, grabbing his stockings and pulling them up. “C’mon it’s a good idea! Neither of us would have to be alone and we can still enjoy the high!”

Komaeda shook his head. “Why would you want to do something so intimate with somebody like me?”

“Because I like you! Is that not evident by the fact I let you fuck me in the ass?!” Hinata snapped in frustration.

A snort came from one of the other stalls. Hinata bit his tongue and pulled up his jeans, avoiding meeting the other’s gaze. Komaeda also looked incredibly sheepish as he did up his own belt. The two of them waited for whoever was in there to be done, wash their hands and leave before speaking again.

“What’s up with that scar on your abdomen?”

“Oh this?” Komaeda traced his finger over a small line near his navel. “Funny story actually, you remember that guy I mentioned earlier who overdosed?”

“Yeah?”

“I refused to pay his medical bills so he stabbed me!”

Hinata was shocked, but also not surprised as he laughed softly. “That’s terrible Komaeda!”

Komaeda seemed to find it even funnier than he did. “You’re telling me! That was the second time I’ve been stabbed here!”

The pieces clicked together in Hinata’s mind. Of course the guy who got stabbed twice at Hope’s Summit was the one he’d fallen for. It only made some stupid sense. He slapped his palm into his forehead and giggled. “Okay, you’re definitely coming home with me, I need to hear more about this.”

Komaeda sighed in defeat. “I’ll come home with you, sure. But you’re going to regret it.”

“I won’t.” Hinata reached up and ruffled Komaeda’s hair, eliciting a smile from the other boy as he pushed the stall door open.

Hinata blinked his bleary eyes open. He was hot, sweaty, and feeling incredibly heavy. A mess of white hair lay upon his chest, drooling onto his left pec. He groaned, slowly reaching over to the highstand on his left to grab his phone without waking the sleeping Komaeda.

5:19pm

29 / 4 / 2020

37 Missed calls from Souda Kazuichi

#Danganronpa #Ficgiri #Hinata Hajime #komahina #komaeda nagito

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k-llama-llama · 5 years ago

Text

Feel-Better Bear

Monsta X AU: 8th member

Zoey x Monsta X

Zoey after Shownu’s injury

A/N: this was meant to be comeback fluff but with the delay....i decided to just write this instead. ALSO FYI check out my patreon (patreon.com/kllamallama for exclusive posts!)

Requests are CLOSED…but your feedback is still super important to me.

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

"Is he back yet?” Zoey asked, coming into the kitchen.

Kihyun shook his head. “No, but they should be soon.”

Zoey leaned against the counter. “I’m worried.”

“He’s Shownu, he’ll be fine.” Kihyun promised. “Just don’t freak him out and you’ll-”

The front door opened and Zoey was bolting for the front door.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

Shownu walked in the door. He was slightly hunched over, with their manager holding a heating pack to his lower back.

“I’m fine, Zo.” Shownu gave her a small smile.

“Can you take this?” The manager asked.

Zoey hurried over, taking the ice pack in her hand and pressing it against his back. Shownu wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leaning slightly on her. She could tell that he wasn’t trying to put too much weight on her, but it obviously hurt him to be standing.

“I’ll help you lay down.” She told him, before turning to the manager. “Can you tell Kihyun anything he needs to know?”

At his confirmation, Zoey started helping Shownu towards their room.

“Thanks.” He said quietly. “I’m going to be fine by tomorrow, it’s just tender right now.”

“I know you’re lying.” Zoey poked his side. “But I’ll interrogate you once you’re comfortable.”

They reached the bed, and Zoey helped him turn and lay down. He was wincing the entire time, and his breathing only eased slightly as he lay down.

Zoey busied herself tucking the heating pad under his back, and then collecting blankets for him.

“You’re fussing.” Shownu teased.

“You’d be worse.” She shot right back.

Zoey knelt next to the bed, and started to unlace his shoes. He didn’t fight her on it, which was how she knew that his back was really hurting.

“What did they actually say at the hospital?” She asked, tucking the blanket around his legs.

“That they suggest I take time off from dancing to let it recover.” Shownu answered. “But we have the comeback in a few weeks so I-”

“You’re taking the time off.” Zoey frowned. “We can push the comeback. I’m sure the company will agree with me.”

“It really isn’t that bad.” Shownu tried to convince her. “I’m sure it’ll be fine if I ice it for a few days.”

“And I’m certain it’ll be find if you listen to the doctors and take all of the time you need.” Zoey moved up to sit next to him on the bed. She leaned over, pushing his hair back from his face. “I’m not arguing. You need to rest.”

Shownu sighed. “You’re going to carry me everywhere?”

“You did it for me. I figure I should return the favour.” She smiled down at him. “I’m serious, Oppa. I don’t want you moving from this bed for the next few days. And then, maybe we can negotiate.”

Shownu closed his eyes, as if debating whether to argue with her. And then his eyes widened.

“Zo....we were supposed to help you move furniture in tomorrow.” He realized. “I have to help.”

Zoey shook her head with a laugh. “We literally have a hundred other people to help. You can take the time to rest.”

“It’s your first apartment and I promised I’d help.” He raised a hand to cover his eyes. “I’m sorry, Zo.”

Zoey snorted. “You are not making this about me. You are resting. And if you think you’re getting past me, then you’ll have to deal with Kihyun.”

Shownu signed and leaned into her hand. “Then I guess you guys have won. But I’m sorry if this is going to screw up the comeback.”

“It’s fine.” Zoey promised. “If nothing else, it gives me more time to lose all of the weight I gained.”

Shownu laughed, and Zoey smiled at her success. “You haven’t gained any weight.”

“Sure I have. I need those 11 abs to maintain my image.” She teased. “I don’t know how to break it to you, but since Wonho left it’s now my job to be the sexy abs member.”

Shownu grinned, laughing loudly. “Standards are pretty high.”

“Eh, I’m hot. It’ll be fine.” Zoey winked at him.

“Thanks, Zo.” Shownu patted her on the leg. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well you’d be very sad and your standards for women would be much lower.” She teased, before standing up from the bed. “Now, what do you want for dinner? Pizza? Soup so I can spoon feed you?”

“Whatever is easier.” Shownu smiled.

“Then it’s whatever Kihyun is making.” Zoey laughed. “Oh, and one more thing.”

She disappeared from his side and climbed up to the top of her bunk bed. Shownu could hear her moving around, and then she jumped back down into view.

“My secret, feel-better weapon.” Zoey held out her hands. “I’ll lend it to you.”

Shownu reached his hand out, taking the small yellow of bear from her. “I seem to remember being the one to give this to you.”

“You were. And now I’m letting you borrow it.” Zoey stood. “Just until you feel better though.”

“I’ll take good care of it.” He promised.

“Good. I’ll go get you some food.” Zoey turned to leave the room. “Don’t move!”

Shownu lifted the bear up so he could see it. It was still in perfect condition, but the colour was a little faded after being washed a few times, and some of the threads on the embroidery had come loose.

He’d picked up the pair for six dollars at the same store where he printed off photographs, and only because he’d thought that Zoey was lonely and scared of all of them and he wanted to make her feel more at home.

And here it was, five years later, and it still never left her bed.

Shownu smiled, before setting the bear next to his pillow.

#monsta x #monsta x au #monsta x imagines #monsta x 8th member #female kpop #female!kpop #female member kpop #requests open #au #kpop #imagines #imagine #kpop au #kpop imagines

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visionsofus · 4 years ago

Note

For the mixtape: “death stranding” by chvrches?? Thanks

hi anon! thanks for the request ~ I hope you enjoy!

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

track #10: Death Stranding by CHVRCHES

synopsis: Wanda and Vision spend the night at a glitzy party for a mission and get jealous when they see each other with other people. Pre-CW

“Is this all really necessary?” Wanda asked, slipping her usual rings onto her fingers to retain a little bit of her everyday look.

“Of course, it’s necessary,” Nat said past the bobby pins in her mouth as she pinned up the last few strands of Wanda’s hair. “You’re going to the Hamptons; anything less will make you stand out.”

Wanda sighed but turned slightly to the mirror to take in what she was wearing. It was a rare pleasure getting dressed up like this, even if it was for work. She’d worried that she’d grown too recognisable in her year since joining the team but gazing at herself now she doubted anyone would think she was an Avenger. She’d chosen her dress from a selection that had arrived at the compound earlier that week for this specific occasion. Of course, it was no ordinary dress, the boddice was bullet proof and though the skirts appeared normal, dropping from her hips to the floor with several slits at the front and sides, Wanda had been told which button to press that would make the flimsy material snap its Kevlar protectively around her legs. It wasn’t as though she was going to go into this sting operation unprepared.

A soft rap came at the door right as Nat finished pressing pins into Wanda’s scalp.

“We’re ready,” Nat called over her shoulder admiring her work.

Steve stepped in, decked in a charcoal suit, sunglasses pushed up to rest on his hair. “Looking lovely, Wanda,” Steve said raising his hand to tip an imaginary hat to her, “we leave in half an hour.”

“I too, am ready,” Vision said his voice entering the room as he phased through the solid wall to their right.

Wanda raised her eyebrows at his unannounced arrival. “Captain Rogers was standing in the doorway…” Vision began but trailed off when he caught sight of her properly.

Wanda turned in her chair to admire Vision. He was dressed in a white suit with a pale pink and gold tie, holding the matching ivory jacket in one hand.

“Make sure you rehearse your cover stories, we don’t need any careless slip ups tonight,” Steve reminded him as he looked at his watch once more. “Nat and I are going to head to the jet, meet us down there.”

“We are?” Nat asked, as Steve tugged her out of the room without another word, door shutting behind them.

“You look beautiful,” Vision said reaching out to help her up. Wanda rested a hand on his arm and pushed herself to her feet, remarkably steady despite the outrageous heels. She liked the height they gave her but was quite sure her feet wouldn’t be enjoying things by the end of the night. At least they had a thick enough heel that she might be able to run or fight if need be. Hopefully things wouldn’t come to that.

“You look rather dashing yourself,” Wanda replied, giving Vision another once over. She could have sworn that there were silver threads running through the white of his suit, but it could have just been the harsh lighting distorting her gaze. At the compliment Vision’s gaze dropped to the floor, a happy smile about his lips.

“You remember our aliases?” Wanda prompted, walking over to her dressing table where she’d placed the necklace she wanted to complete her look with. She held it out to Vision, turning around so he could help her with the clasp. His hands were cool against the back of her neck as he delicately swept her hair aside.

“Of course,” Vision replied stepping around to face her once the necklace was fastened, “I am Viktor Walkins and you are my partner Emilia Williams.”

“Exactly,” Wanda said turning for the door and leading him through the compound as she spoke, “Emilia Williams, 26, a post-graduate art student at RISD. My main focus is on the art of human anatomy, body paint, that sort of thing.”

Vision held the front door open for her and she smiled at him as she stepped outside. He continued their cover story. “Which explains my appearance,” he gestured to himself and Wanda watched as he bent the nanotech of his body to his will, “I am one of your models.”

Wanda had been expecting a new look from Vision, he’d been experimenting more with phasing, but nothing this detailed. His complexion remained the same, but little leaves and branches now extended up his neck, dipping below his collar as the same thing happened to his hands. Wanda resisted the urge to reach out and trace her fingers along the delicate gold whirls arcing over his cheeks. He was a piece of art.

“Colour me impressed,” she said smiling as he led the way to the landing bay.

Wanda felt out of her depth as soon as they arrived at the front gates to the mansion where the operation was to take place. The mission itself was simple enough, get close to their target, John A. Sterling a young-ish weapons distributor who had been attempting to recreate old Stark weapons, and get him on record saying where the next meeting was to take place. Wanda thought it was strange how public the underground weapons industry was, they certainly relished in having a good party. According to their sources, Sterling always attended things like this to catch new prospective buyers, inviting them to a private party at the end of a month. Wanda and Vision’s job was to either secure an invite themselves, or at the very least catch someone else getting one.

That wasn’t the difficult part, really. She didn’t doubt that with Vision’s help they’d secure the location by the end of the night. No, the real challenge was the party ahead of her.

She leant heavily on Vision’s arm as they walked up the marble stairs and into an actual ballroom. Wanda had only ever seen things like this on TV. The crowd was a swirling mass of glitz and wealth. It resonated with immorality and fraud and it was a good thing Vision took the lead because she felt minutes away from running away from the horror before her.

They walked around the edge of the decadent room, stopping finally at a table of canapes and fading into the background as one of many couples milling about the food.

“I have eyes on him,” Wanda said quietly pretending to straighten the lapel of Vision’s already impeccable suit.

“Take your time getting close,” Steve’s voice crackled in his ear, “we don’t want to scare him off.”

“I’m not scary,” Wanda huffed, grinning at Vision but he was keeping his eyes on the crowd, watching their target dancing. “I’ll just go and dance with him.”

“Go slow, and if you have the opportunity to get close, plant the mic on him,” Steve reminded her before going quiet.

“I think I’d rather you just scare him,” Vision said his eyes narrowing at the figure moving through the crowd. Wanda tilted her head but decided not to question what he meant and instead turned back to the crowd.

“He’s on the move,” she murmured, placing her hand at Vision’s elbow once more and casually starting to move around the room. She followed the example of couples they passed, smiling at those whose eyes were unable to avoid Vision’s glamour, though his appearance was on par with the cosmetics of some guests.

Sterling had left the floor with his wife and was making his way to the spread of tables and seats at the back of the ballroom. Wanda paused briefly to collect a plate and some canapes so that they might fit in better and then led the way to a table near their target couple.

Vision gave her a look that said he thought they had gotten too close, but she shook her head imperceptibly and sat him down next to her. The tables were mere feet apart, but she had positioned them so that their backs were to the Sterling’s, whilst being close enough to listen in on their conversation.

“… too warm tonight,” she heard Sterling say gruffly.

“John, stop complaining,” came his wife’s short reply.

Wanda pushed the small food about her plate, feeling too on edge to eat. Vision was sitting unnaturally beside her, his head too high as he glanced around suspiciously.

“You look too nervous,” she whispered, lifting a champagne flute to her lips and pretending to take a sip. She also wasn’t going to let alcohol dull her senses tonight. Vision snapped his eyes to her, and she was shocked to see his demeanour change almost immediately. He sat further back in the chair, smoothly crossing a leg over one knee and leaning closer to her chair, an arm slouched haphazardly at her back.

“Better?” he whispered back, his head now much too close to hers, she felt his warm breath on her neck.

“Yep,” Wanda murmured, this time taking a legitimate drink.

They remained sat behind the unsuspecting couple until they rose once more to join the crowd milling about the ballroom floor. Wanda’s eyes snapped to Vision’s and she gave him a look someone along the lines of trust me. At least she hoped that’s what her face said because he looked shocked as she abruptly stood up, spinning and walking straight into their target.

“Oh my goodness!” She gasped delicately, bringing her hands to her mouth in shock as Sterling was forced to stagger back slightly. Wanda tried not to cringe at the warmness her hand was met with when she patted the man’s shoulder in apology. “I am so sorry.”

All those months working on her American accent with Nat was worth it all for this moment, her intonation was perfect.

Sterling had steadied himself and looked fit to argue until he looked up and saw precisely who had run into him. Wanda gave him her best apologetic smile. “Oh that’s, quite alright.” His hand went absentmindedly to his hair, running a hand through it.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Sterling’s wife piped up, standing up from the table and extending a hand to Wanda.

“Emilia Williams,” Wanda smiled shaking her hand delicately, “I am here in my father’s place.”

“Your father, Williams you say,” Sterling murmured with false understanding as though he were familiar with the man, which was of course impossible considering he was a fictional father.

“Say,” Wanda said turning a hopeful, yet shy, gaze to John Sterling, “I don’t suppose you can dance; my partner doesn’t like dancing.” Vision scowled from where he was still sitting.

“Well as a matter of fact, we were just about to join the floor again.” John looked at his wife for permission, “you don’t mind do you darling?”

“Not at all,” Ms Sterling replied, her gaze on Vision, “I’ll be quite happy sitting here and talking with this fascinating figure, I’m sure.”

To her dismay, Wanda had to take the arm Sterling offered as they made their way out to the dance floor.

“How has your father been?” Sterling asked as they stopped in an open space, Wanda taking one of his hands while the other came to rest at her waist. It amused her that he was still pretending to know the fictional man she had created, but all for networking she supposed.

“Oh he’s doing well, he just wasn’t feeling up to this evening and I was more than happy to come in his stead,” Wanda said sweetly as they starting to dance slowly. “He speaks of you often, always talking about the good work you do.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Sterling said graciously dipping his head, but Wanda knew she’d pressed the right button to direct the conversation where she needed it to go.

The music picked up and the dancing became livelier, and she had to focus on keeping up with her dance partner. Over his shoulder she spotted Vision still stranded with Mrs Sterling, who appeared to have gotten quite touchy in investigating the paint on his body. Vision was in the midst of rolling up his shirt sleeve to the elbow so that she could see more clearly, and Wanda’s heart tightened with irrational jealousy. She mentally reprimanded herself, she had no right to be possessive. Instead, she focused on the task at hand, she needed to get more out of Sterling and the sooner the better judging from the friendliness of his hands.

“Such terrible disasters happening in California this week,” she said in an attempt to make small talk.

“Dreadful,” he replied shortly, and Wanda resisted the urge to step on his toes a few times as his gaze dipped too low.

“I almost wish I had a better way to protect my family, if such things begin happening further north,” Wanda said contemplatively and tried not to bristle at how quickly his eyes snapped up to meet hers. Now he was paying attention.

“It’s important,” he murmured more quietly, “that we can all protect ourselves in these troubling times.”

“My father agrees,” Wanda sighed forlornly, “but alas we don’t really have any good contacts in that sort of industry.”

They were quiet a little longer and Wanda feared she had pressed too far. Regardless, the conversation had made him serious enough that she’d had an opportunity to drop one of her rings, one with a microphone within the gemstone, into his pocket as the dance swapped directions and they traded hands. Mic planted.

“I have special parties each month,” he began slowly, “if you are interested, I could put you and your father on the guest list for July.”

Wanda let herself smile I surprise and excitement. “Really? My father would be so grateful.”

Back among the tables, Vision was trying to figure out why he had grown so irritable all of a sudden. It was really interfering with the flattery he was currently delivering to Mrs Sterling whilst Wanda was busy out on the floor with their weapons distributor. He kept one eye on the spinning couple, growing frustrated at how easily the man was touching her.

“Gosh this paint is just divine,” Mrs Sterling said, fawning over his glamoured skin, “she is quite remarkable.”

“I know,” Vision said not thinking as the words left his mouth and the tenderness that went along with them.

Mrs Sterling smiled wryly at him. “Don’t give up yet. A nice man like you? She’s sure to fall eventually.”

“Pardon?” Vision choked out, wondering what on earth had given the woman the impression that he and Wanda were anything more than platonic.

“Oh you know what I mean,” she waved a hand and laughed lightly, “shall we go rescue her from my husband?”

Vision looked at the woman with new appreciation and offered his hand to help her to his feet. “You know, I think you’re right, I am suddenly in the mood to dance.”

“That’s the right attitude,” she said patting his arm affectionately as he led her onto the dance floor.

“John,” Mrs Sterling called out, waving a hand as he and Wanda spun past, “give this young man a chance, will you?”

It seemed they were too far away to hear, and John was decidedly preoccupied by his dance partner. Vision caught Wanda’s eyes and she tilted her chin down slightly. It was done.

“Thank you for your charming conversation,” Vision said patting the back of Mrs Sterling’s hand at his arm, “but I had best get to her.”

Vision arrived just in time to see Wanda spin in time with other dancers and reached out a hand to catch hers before she could spin back into Sterling’s grasp.

“Oh,” she said softly, as his hand came to rest at her back, steadying her.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Mr Sterling,” Wanda said apologetically, “it seems my partner is finally ready to dance, it was lovely chatting with you.”

Mrs Sterling was at his arm in a moment, coaxing her husband away from the dance floor.

“I’m glad thatis done,” Wanda sighed, turning towards Vision once the other couple was out of sight. “Mic planted, and hopefully Cap will get news of a personal invitation for Emilia Williams by the end of the night.”

“Excellent work,” Vision said taking her hands and putting them on his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asked slowly, but she didn’t pull away.

“It would look suspicious if we left now,” Vision said, “so I am dancing.”

“I didn’t know you could dance.”

“While Natasha gave you your lessons, Steve gave me mine.”

“Huh,” Wanda murmured in surprise but stepped into the music with him, their feet moving in synchronicity, taking them around the other pairs about the floor.

It was different, being with her like this. But Vision enjoyed the closeness. In the past they had been physically affectionate without thinking about it but Vision was becoming more conscious of exactly how often they reached for each other, and what was worse, he was beginning to question his own reasons behind it. He rarely thought of ignorance as something good but there was a nagging feeling to this situation, an apprehension that if he examined the emotions he felt around Wanda there would be no going back.

Steve’s voice crackled to life in Vision’s head, “good job you two, get out when you can.”

“Sure thing,” Wanda murmured but made no move to leave the dance floor. When she saw Vision’s questioning gaze she smiled. “You wanted to dance right? It would be a shame the let those lessons go to waste.”

“Yes, it would be a shame,” he said absentmindedly, overly conscious of her hand resting at the nape of his neck.

“You seemed to be getting on well with Mrs Sterling,” Wanda said, her gaze a little distant as she looked determinedly over his shoulder.

“No more than was necessary,” Vision replied and then felt a little silly for saying it in such an assuring way, what did Wanda care if he had been friendly with their target? After all, it wasn’t as though she had done anything different. “You didn’t seem in a hurry to get away from Sterling.”

Wanda huffed in frustration and Vision felt bad for pushing further.

“It was part of the job,” she explained through her teeth trying to keep a smile on as they danced past chattering bystanders, “at least I wasn’t rolling my sleeves up and showing off my muscles.”

Vision actually sputtered. “That is not what I was doing.”

“Could have fooled me,” Wanda shrugged smiling pleasantly, but her refusal to look at him showed more.

He sighed wishing he hadn’t teased her or gotten onto this line of conversation. “I did not want for us to argue.”

“And what did you want?” Wanda said, her voice a dare asking for the truth, her eyes a constant on his and Vision resisted the urge to look away, maintaining her steel gaze.

“I want to be honest,” he said quietly and when Wanda didn’t prompt him, he continued speaking. “I’m afraid of saying something that might change things between us.”

Us.The word hung between them as an unspoken truth. They hadn’t acknowledged the possibility that they were becoming something other than Vision and Wanda, that perhaps there was a third alternative where they were something more.

“I’d rather honesty, even if it changes things.”

“As silly as it sounds,” he began hesitantly, “I was jealous, seeing you dancing out here without me. It irritated me that I had been shrugged off in favour of that man, even if it was for the mission.”

Wanda smiled and raised a hand to his cheek, his skin warmed as she brushed her palm over the intricate gold ‘paint’ still on his face. “It was not a choice I was making, but if I’d had to choose you could have no doubt it would be you.”

Vision resisted the urge to close his eyes and lean into her palm, trying to focus on the understanding in her gaze. “I was jealous too, watching you with her.”

“That has to mean something doesn’t it,” Vision said, his voice barely above a whisper as Wanda moved imperceptibly closer, his hand moved comfortably around her back as they slowed to a stop.

“It does,” she smiled and nodded, and Vision felt a wave of relief emanating out of him that they were on the same page. “The truth is out in the open now I suppose, no going back.”

“I think I’d rather look forward,” he said and slowly pulled them towards the outskirts of the ballroom and to a stop. Wanda’s cheeks were pink from the dancing and her eyes were light as she turned to him.

“So, we’ll just see what happens?”

“I’d like that,” Vision said keeping a tight grip on her hand, reluctant to let her go just yet. They went to leave the ballroom and once out in the night air he shrugged his suit jacket off and let it rest around Wanda’s shoulders. With one arm around her waist and the other holding her hand they left the faux cheer of the ballroom behind. The evening had been an adventure and a step out of his comfort zone, but Vision was as eager as Wanda was for home, to be back in the space they both knew so well and to relish in the step they had taken, to dream of all that was to come and all that they might be.

#wandavision #wanda x vision #scarletvision #Wandavision fic #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x vision #visionsofus #ahhh the yearning #jealous!Vision #jealous!Wanda

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wispandwhispers · 5 years ago

Text

Welcome to Monochromia!

Words: 2048

Previous | Next

Tw(s) : Cursing, Implied torture, getting disturbing commissions, talked about murder (Tell me if there is any to add)

Pairing(s) : Eventually Logicality, Dukeceit, Eventually Prinxiety.

Notes : I’ve had this idea on the back burner for so long and its finally here

"Zynx, how do you plan to secure the vote in the Fumi sector?"

"No comment."

"Zynx, how are you planning to make a comeback after Foster destroyed your chances of getting the majority ?"

"No comment."

"Zynx, is the rumours of you and Crownford sleeping together true?"

"I'm sorry but I'm not sure what you're talking about."

A limousine pulled up in front of the city hall and the chauffeur rolled down the window. A simple eye signal and he knew it was time to go.

"No more questions."

"Zynx a moment of your t-"

The chauffeur slammed the door of the limousine and started the planned safety-checked drive back to his boss' residence.

He looked in the mirror at his employer which a cheeky grin.

"I have a good feeling your sick of this question but how in fuck's name are you going to win this election? "

The passenger glared at his employee, clearly pissed.

"Do not test my patience Remy."

"Holy shit, you didn't say my full name, who are you and what have you done with Logan Zynx?"

"Just pass my yarn bag, I'm so fucking stressed."

Remy opened the compartment and chucked the medium sized light- blue pouch to the back.

"I don't understand why you don't you just go around firing people, snort crack, hate sex or whatever rich people do the wind down."

"I don't really know, this brings me peace for some reason."

The conversation died down and Logan got to work on stress knitting a new scarf/sock/ thing while Remy took the back route to his estate in the Prime sector with the sound of the radio in the background.

The usual daily announcements, the signal time, the weather update, the tired host annoying the news-

-Roman Crownford made headlines tonight when he was caught carrying election candidate, Logan Zynx in the bridal position . Rumours have emerged that the two are in a relationship and-

The driver's neck snapped back to stare at the person in the back seat.

"Spill."

"I don't speak slang."

"Fine, explain."

"I decided to go out for a drink, someone decided to spike it, woke up in my bed with this guy staring at me. That's what I can remember at least."

"Sounds like the start to some shitty rom-com."

-Footage can be seen of the actor carefully helping the politician get to his car to supposedly drive him home.

"Please turn that down, If I listen to that anymore I'll get a headache from the bullshit they are spewing. And I already have one from the debate so please."

Remy turn the dial anti-clockwise.

"Anyway, you need to be focusing on which is the best assassin in the area, I personally recommend Remus-"

In the mirror, the driver could see his employer's eyes sharpen in annoyance.

"I plan to win the election without murdering someone and even if I was to kill Patton, I would probably get caught anyway."

The limousine came to a halt.

"You better get inside, three minutes 'til the signal goes live."

Logan let himself out of the vehicle and faced the other

"I'm aware. That's why I wear a watch if you weren't aware."

Remy just shook his head.

"You're still the fucking antisocial nerd you were as a teen."

"And you were the same shade of black and white since you were twelve but I don't comment about it." Logan retorted as he started to walk to his door.

"Don't come for my kneecaps bitch, I'm being a queen in the colours I can see and I'm fucking proud of my basic bitch style."

"God you're so egotistical. Why am I friend with you again?"

"Your bad life decisions, not mine."

Logan heard the limousine drive off into the distance. He would assume the Remy would just listen to the signal in the car. And then promptly go and get a coffee to fuel his caffeine addiction that can never satisfied.

Logan walked into his house and sat down on his armchair. Cathrine climbed onto his lap but he's shooed her away. She always seemed to meow louder during the signal.

Your daily broadcast is about to begin, remember you can always t̙̰̖̲͔͈͚̱̞͙̐̇͋́̅̊̀̅̕͝ų̺̺̟͇͈͎̝̫̱̳̝͈̬͔̩̠̞̙͑̍͒̌̅͗̔͑̿̋̔͘̕̕̚̕͠͠͠r̡̧̧̛̟̺͍̘̘͉̞͔͇̭͍̮̒̋͆́̎̿̀̉́̏̊͘͘͜͠͡n̡̢̛̥̺̱̫͖̹̩̲̝̪͊̊̊͂̔̇͆̓̄̋̓̓ͅ i̢̱͕̮͎̺͓͂̒̊͂͒̏̍t̨̨̥̦̙̭̦̀̄̾̂̽̄͘ o̧̥̗͚̮͇̬̠̥̼̮̫͕̞̪̭̝̼̍͒̇̀̐̌̊͆́̐͂͒̀̋͌̌͐̕̚͜f̡̢̨̢̥̬̳͓̺̖͍͐͒̍̄̋̂̏͂̍̊̏̅͜f̛̹̱̜̥͇̜̥̙͇̻͍̙͈̱̈́̎͋̏̑̑͊́̌̓̓͗́́͟ ȧ̢̧̢̞̙̦͉̪͇̇̾̄̑̽̓̈́̾̓̌͟͜͝ͅẗ̜͎̖̰͖͉͇̦̥́̍̑̄̚͘͞͡͞ ä̡̫̰̪̰̖͕̲͙̲̝̘̤͎́̂̏̇̓̃̍̽̐́̚͘͢͞͡͡ǹ̢͇̙͇̙̯͎̬̟͖̪̥̹͔̙̿́̓̍̽̊͆̈̓̍̎̀̏͌͌͜͞ͅy͓̪̟̲̩̙͚̗̫͚̰̘̫͈͌̍̊̃̎̓͒̄̔͑͆̈̄͠ -

It cackled unholy sound, like the type static made but way worse and the device proceeded to go radio silent (no pun intended). Logan walked over to see if Cathrine had chewed through the wires again but she was curled up in a ball on the heater.

"I got this fixed not even a week ago, It can't be broken already.."

The box suddenly flickered back to life akin to a car engine. Logan sighed in relief, returning to his chair waiting for the-

Good evening lucky citizen, I am proud to interrupt your daily brainwashing in the hopes that you will heed my warning. Stop listening to the fucking signal or broadcast or wave or whatever you call it in your sector.This is probably the most idiotic thing that you have ever heard. I am fully aware. But also was that story our caregivers told us so we wouldn't cover our ears. So you listened through the hidden circle of hell that was the sound you heard. But you don't remember the pain and only the calm when it ended, don't you? In the very likely case you are currently at your mobile trying to report me., let me save you the hassle of trying to find a name. Call me-

Logan promptly ripped the radio cord out of the socket.

Pacing around his study slowly, trying to mentally recall a fact, he pulled out his phone and checked the time. The broadcast had ended the second he had pulled out the plug. He couldn't dwell on that. He typed in a number and let the waiting sound become his background noise until someone picked up.

"Patton, can I stay at yours for the night?"

*****

" Q.Quill. A twenty year old woman who grew up in godforsaken dump that is Fumi, clawed her way to the top and started to biggest drug empire in the city, who always has four weapons on her person at all times, the person whose body has never gotten more than a scratch before the person who dared to hurt her died was killed by her own hands and you killed her sneaking an acid bomb into her Big Mac. I'm surprised Duke. It's less creative than how you usually murder your target."

"You wound me Pip, when I joined this company I swore to myself that every single job I do , I would pour my hearty and soul into. There is no was in-"

"Let me guess, the acid is more than acid."

'Duke' gave a slick grin. "Wanna know what was in it?"

"Nah, I'm still traumatised from the hat job."

She passed a bag to the assassin.

"You know where to pick up your pay check from. Get the fuck out of my office..

Grabbing the sack, moonwalking on his hellys that Pip was convinced he was not wearing before, 'Duke' went to collect his earnings.

He rolled to the Shed, pick up the cash, stuffed a red hot poker into the eye of a guy who tried to mug him and continued on with his daily rout-

"Thomas!" Duke ran up to the named person and lifted him into the air. Then he slapped his face.

"Ow, what the fuck was that Re...," A frantic head shake for 'not the right time. "Duke .."

Thomas narrowed his eyebrows and pulled the Duke to the nearby alleyway. Thomas was going to speak but the other beat him to it.

"I slapped you, partially because I wanted to and because it's not safe to be around me at the moment because I kinda killed someone off duty so the Shed is probably after me and your dad will kill me if I get blood on your shirt and Janus is terrifying when pissed."

Thomas just stood back, taking a good moment to process the information.

"How did you get chosen to be an assassin?"

"Do you think I know?"

Duke perked his ears up. Footsteps. Very light and carefully planned ones as well.

"Ok Thomas, I'm got to play with people's intestines now, say hi to Janus for me and rennet that's nothing is illegal if you don't get caught!"Duke took out a sewing needle out of his pocket than had green thread.

Thomas felt sorry for the victims ,already starting to back out of the future crime scene.

"Sure!"

*********

Virgil stepped back from from his computer, questioning why he even decided to take commissions in the first place. And seeming from the email, this wasn't someone trying to fuck with him.

Time to get some moral support.

i'llburnifigointothesun: What would you do if a guy offered you one fucking million for a piece of fanart of them living out their romantic fantasies

FosterDawg: You don't need to do nsfw pieces. You're not a broke college student

i'llburnifigointothesun:Yeah, I've upgraded to a broke adult.

FosterDawg : So...Why are you nervous about this? You've drawn kisses before albeit it wasn't normally the most light hearted work but this isn't one of your triggers.

i'llburnifigointothesun: the condition is I have to hand paint this and they want it 'hyper-realistic'. i kinda don't want my hands to die.

FosterDawg : Kiddo, at the end of the day, it's your call if you want to do this or not.

i'llburnifigointothesun: it was such a dad thing to end that with an exclamation mark.

Virgil put down his phone, listened to the broadcast ,stared long and hard at his paintbrushes. After about half an hour he got out a canvas and pulled up reference images.

He gritted his teeth. "If they're lying, I'm about to going to sue."

*******

"Dad, I'm home!"

Thomas flung his backpack onto the floor, walking to the kitchen to partially look for his dad and partially to get the leftover pizza.

"Okay, he's still at work which means time for-"

"Thomas you can't watch Steven Universe re-runs until five in the morning again, you have your revision that you'll procrastinate and then panic a month before you the exam date in guilt of not studying."

The father had seemed to just manifest out of thin air, standing behind his son and the other couldn't tell if he had been there for an hour or two minutes.He rarely wore his emotions on his sleeve.

"Dad, I didn't ask you to peer into my soul.Also Remus says hi." He fiddled with the remote control, deciding what cartoon to binge watch .

The parent rushed to his son ,checking his face to see if was hurt. "Shit, you didn't see him kill or hurt anyone, right?"

"Yep!"

Janus let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. "Thank fuck, you can't be used as a witness."

Thomas walked over to the front door to retrieve his discarded backpack and took out his music theory notes. He scanned through the notes and then lowered his head in frustration."Why did I pick this class?"

"It seemed like a good decision at the time, for you and you just started your Hamilton phase." Janus saw his son staring over what he assumed was the homework. The due date was in a weeks time. He had an internal debate with himself and came to a decision.

"You know what, fuck that!," He chucked Thomas homework to the side. "Do what makes you happy tonight, you seem stressed and you should take time for yourself."

Thomas started at his dad for a few seconds and gave him a big hug. " Thanks, I kinda needed that.. This maybe a bad time but I kinda threw my tie-dye pride flag with your yellow dress shirts.

Janus stared at the other with a glare that could be sarcasm or could be anger. "Well, everything could be gayer."

The dad finally put down his hat on the coat stand and started to walk upstairs. "Remember to keep it down, I'll be live."

"Kay.."Thomas started his self care routine by microwaving the leftover pizza.

Taglist( Ask me if you want to be added):

@katlikethesword, @crinklesnuff

#logicality #wisp writes #i fucking did it #thank you cat #so much #anyway #dukeceit #demus #prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders

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