#and one day he just snapped and punched the wall of the shed out back and god it felt sooo good and he didn't stop until fuyumi was pulling

[introspectivememories]

in my head and in my heart, i know for a fact that all 3 todoroki children have really unfavorable habits that they got from endeavor.

fuyumi is mean. just honest to god mean. she doesn't even mean it most of them time. just being everyone's emotional support all the time causes her to suppress her meaner emotions and when someone pushes, it all comes out. but there is nothing in the world sharper than fuyumi's tongue on a bad day.

natsuo, ever the middle child. always there and always forgotten. natsuo is quick to get physically aggressive. never on people, god no. but he'll punch through walls like it's nothing. he's had his fingers broken and set more times than he can remember. he hates this part of himself. he already looks so much like enji, does he need to have his father's destructive rage too?

shouto... where to even begin with shouto. the child kept under enji's thumb the longest. shouto is more like enji than he would like to admit. he eats his food the way enji eats his food, greens first then everything else. he does his morning routine a near copy of his father's. this is what happens when you spend every waking moment of the first 15 years of your life with your abuser. that being said, shouto, ignoring the ever present constant thrum of anger that hides just below his skin, shouts a lot when he's angry. it comes from the chest, booming and seething. it scares people. he knows this and he hates that he cannot stop himself.

they don't like thinking about but when it happens all of them can't help but think i'm just like dad.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Unlikely But Welcome

Hey, Duffers? Give me more Harrington-Byers content. Let me give you a suggestion.

Give me Jonathan who realizes that Steve has really grown as a person and eventually decides to give him a chance, they start a reluctant friendship. It's not easy or fast, but they often drop the kids off to the Hellfire Club campaigns and they sometimes have to wait together outside, maybe share a cigarette or something and chat about anything and everything.

Jonathan talks about the life he had in California and maybe admits to Steve that he never feels that carefree here, it's like having constant weight on his shoulders. It feels weird, talking to the former King Steve about the guilt and paranoia, but Steve actually listens and understands, he just chuckles and takes a drag from the cigarette, admits to Jonathan that he is going out of his mind whenever the kids don't walkie him for several days. "But that's what we're here for, right?" he smiles at Jonathan and passes the smoke back, "we're scared shitless for them and worry about every stupid thing so they can have a good time. As much as possible after all that."

They start hanging out at Steve's house, planning outings for the little shitheads, fairs, Halloween parties, anything with the promise of giving the kids back at least pieces of their lost childhoods. The rest of the young adults join in too, Argyle with his constant enthusiasm, Eddie and his manic energy, Robin with her undying sarcasm and Nancy who is ridden by the same guilt as the two of them, seeing what the Upside Down did to Mike and his friends.

It's there that Jonathan notices Steve's house is devoid of any personality, he only has a few polaroids in his room and those are carefully stored in his drawer, as if he's ashamed of them. So Jonathan picks up his camera again, after the long break in California, and gets to what he knows the best. He snaps pictures of Steve and Robin giggling, drunk on punch, as she re-creates the YOU SUCK / YOU RULE scoreboard on a random paper, he captures the exact moment Eddie tackles Steve into the pool when they're sweating like crazy while preparing a barbecue for their gaggle of kids. He smiles to himself as he captures Eddie shotgunning with Steve for the first time, documents Steve's wide smile as he's high as a kite and discussing very important topics with Argyle, such as whether tabby or ginger cats are superior. There are more pictures - Steve with Nancy as they argue about the format of the Halloween party invitations while Eddie sketches suggestions in the background, Dustin jumping at Steve to hug him, the reluctant fist bump between Steve and Mike, Steve sitting between Erica and Max, all three with sunglasses and a sign that says "the cool trio". When he knocks on Steve's door on one day and gives him the photographs, Steve's face lights up like a Christmas tree. He gets all of them framed and completely covers the walls of his room with his found family.

There is a stupid assignment that has Dustin frustrated, presentations on their families - apparently a male influence is needed, a single family member isn't enough, so Jonathan nudges him and whispers "what about Steve? Does an older brother count?" and Dustin's face lights up, drags Steve over for a picture for his presentation. They pose for several pictures, Steve holding Dustin in the air, leaning on each other like partners in crime, and everyone's laughing, maybe sheds a tear or two.

If Jonathan had any doubts about Steve, they disappear the second he takes the last picture and Steve comes over to him, hugs him with a quiet thank you. And then he taps his camera and asks: "hey, show me how to operate this thing? I'm pretty sure I need to take over for a second." Jonathan is confused for a moment, but then he sees Will looking at him with a shy expression and realizes - oh. Maybe this is why they work so well as friends, because they have this in common - filling in the roles they were never supposed to have, but would not give up for the world. He gives Steve a quick rundown and then drags Will to the living room, posing for pictures and reenacting Steve's suggestions, fighting with imaginary swords and slaying dragons (or Dustin who offered to stand in for the legendary creature). In the end, Steve's pictures are a bit blurry, but Jonathan treasures them.

And then there's the incident outside of Hellfire, they're smoking together again, laughing about the secret Santa they're organizing for the kids ("I swear to god, Jonathan, Dustin's learning to knit. He's determined to send Suzie-poo a handmade scarf and I'm trying to be supportive, I really am, but it looks like a blob of cotton"). The kids barge outside, excited as always, and Will is beaming too, he found so much in common with Eddie and they're rapidly talking, exchanging ideas for the next sessions. But of course, there's no rest for the freaks - the basketball practice ends around the same time and one of Jason's lackeys bumps into Will, snarls at him. "Of course you two get along. A freak and a fag, hard to tell which one is which." The smile instantly drops from Will's face and Eddie's straightening up, glaring at the sophomore, and Jonathan's blood runs cold when-

It's Steve who takes the first step towards the boy and even though his legend is long gone, the boy staggers back. Memories flash in Jonathan's head, remembering how he lost the first camera, how terrifying Steve's anger could be, but Steve only grasps the boy's shoulder and smiles at him, as pleasant as possible. "I remember you, kid. Aren't you the one who always tries to sneak into the adult section of the Family Video, hm? And smokes in front of the store. Now if I recall, your mother is a very strict lady, I've met her once or twice...does she know?" And when the bully shakes his head, Steve's voice lowers to a growl. "Do you want her to know?" Another shake. "That's what I thought."

And with that, the bully his gone and Jonathan wants to check on his brother, except there is something happening in the group before him - Steve is whispering something into Eddie's ear and the older boy nods, his face serious and determined. Steve shoots an apologetic look at Jonathan, mouths "just a second" at him and they take Will to the side, talk to him in hushed voices. The rest of the party is chatting again, recalling their latest adventures, but Jonathan only has eyes for his younger brother and the strange new friend he made. He watches as Steve reaches under the collar of his shirt and pulls out a familiar looking pendant with a guitar pick. Watches as Eddie moves his watch to the side and reveals a fresh looking tattoo of a spiked bat. Will's eyes water and he hugs both of them, laughing into the embrace and Jonathan finally understands what Nancy meant, that Steve's grown up and he's a different person now, in more ways than one. He sees Steve and Eddie's fingers brush against each other, the shy glances masked in their usual teasing. And Will looks so much happier now, so much more confident that he knows - he could never hate Steve Harrington again.

When they both manage to get the kids (and Eddie who rides with Steve, of course he does) into their cars, Jonathan and Steve smile at each other, and then Jonathan, the distant Jonathan who is used to only observing, never initiating, embraces Steve. "I don't know how to repay you for what you did for Will, Steve," he admits.

Steve just laughs and pats Jonathan's back. "I only did what felt right. The kid deserves the world. But," he adds and grins at Jonathan, "if you're insistent on the repayment, how about you pick up some good beer for this week's movie night? I don't think I can survive more experimentation, Eddie and Robin are competing who can get a more obscure brand and I'm too old for that crap."

Jonathan snickers and gives Steve a thumbs up. Lame, but he doesn't seem to mind. "You've got it."

[tavern-aa]

Heyo! I saw that requests were open nd wanted to know if you could do a second part to the Shikamaru nsfw fic? If not that's fine! I love this blogs aesthetic and writing btw! Have a good day/night! 💕

A/N: Leviathan here, it's been almost a year since we've uploaded any works, lmfao so myyyyyy bad. I'm treating you guy with a part two and a full smut cause I love you and I feel bad. But that's okay, big brother Leviathan is here for the rescue. <3

Warnings: Sex, it's pretty vanilla, cursing, smut under the cut

WC: 706

x Male Reader

-

“Stop teasing so much, you bully!” you cried out, a small tear streaming down your cheek. Seeing the tear caused something within Shikamaru to snap as he surged up to his feet, picking you up and tossing you onto the bed in one fluid motion.

“Fuck, you don’t know what you do to me baby boy.”

-

Your head was fuzzy, no thoughts crossing your brain as overwhelming pleasure built inside of you. The only sound you could hear was the subtle grunts from below you and your own whines of pleasure as rough hands gripped your hips, forcing your hole to swallow Shikamaru's full length. Even when you were fucking, his lazy nature caused you to do most of the work, even if at the moment you felt too weak to even lift yourself anymore.

He looked at you with such hunger, it was startling how much he truly wanted you. How much he needed you. How much he loved being inside of your warm, inviting hole.

"Fuck y/n," he groaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin there to leave as many marks as he pleased. His hips rutted up into yours to meet your hips in an almost desperate maneuver. And desperate he was. No matter how dominant he wanted to look or feel, he caved when it came to the feeling of you swallowing him whole.

You could feel every inch of him inside you, filling you up to the brim until you couldn't think of anything but how good you felt. Every drag of his cock along your walls sent a spasm through your body almost like an electric shock. His lips attacking your neck caused another filthy moan to leave your mouth and a smirk to plaster itself to his face.

"Feels so good inside you, so good. Wanna feel like this all the time. You wanna feel like this too, right baby?"

The only response was your babbling, tears had started to form again from the pure pleasure. He took that as his 'yes' before he finally had enough. The sight of your tears has sent him into a frenzy. The second time tonight you had shed tears for him.

He flipped you both over so that you were now on your back, him hovering over you before he gripped your hips again, tight enough to surely leave marks, and slammed his cock into your gummy walls once more. Hitting your prostate, thrust after thrust, slowly dragging out his cock before violently thrusting back in to hit the same spot had you seeing stars. Your sweat drenched body was seizing up from every punch to your prostate, it felt like pure ecstasy was being injected into via his dick.

"Shi-Shika! Cuming, fuck, cuming."

He paid no mind, or more so, he sped up his thrusts just to push you over that edge even faster. And push you over it did, white seed shot out of the tip of your dick coating your chest in semen. His lips then attached themselves to your right nipple, rolling the bud around in his mouth as he continued to roughly fuck into your ass helping you to ride through your orgasm for the umpteenth time that evening.

Only when his own hips started to stutter did he start to slow down, his rhythm breaking down as he grew closer and closer to his own high.

"Y/N, love you so much, fuck, feel so good, love you," he moaned into the soft plush of your chest, having detached from your nipple to breath harshly into your skin. His hand then wrapped around your own weeping cock, dripping again from overstimulation. You didn't think you could take another orgasm, you were gonna die if he made you.

"Cum together."

It wasn't a plea, it was a demand, you will and you did. His thrusts mixed with his steady jerking of your cock caused you to cum once again as he filled your hole with his own cum. A few more thrusts and then his body collapsing onto yours followed by a soft and tired chuckle from him.

"That...that was fun," he panted softly, his eyes closed but smiling at you none the less. You could only nod, knowing he couldn't see but feel you do so. His hands slid up to your face as his eyes opened slowly before he leaned over with great effort to place a gentle peck on your lips, "Love you so much Y/N."

"I love you too, Shikamaru."

[holabirdfanfic]

Once More I see you

Len wakes up feeling exhausted and troubled due to an argument with his friend Josh. Len's jealousy and concerns about Josh's behavior lead to a confrontation at school. Len seeks advice from his friend Kate, and the story ends with Len waking up in the My Hero Academia universe, leaving him bewildered and unsure if it's all a dream.

Crack-fic about people from my school

(No actual names being told)

All Jokey jokes!

_____________________________________________________________

Len woke up to another day, exhausted and his eyes were full of drought, maybe from all the tears he shed… He and Josh had an argument a few days before and Josh has been giving him the silent treatment. Checked his notifications, no response, no text, no nothing. Len groaned and stared at the ceiling closing his eyes for one moment he felt a familiar feeling, as if he was drifting away…

______________________________________________________________

I sit in science as I zone out of the conversation I’m currently in with Mango, Natasha, and Anna. I couldn’t help it! My thoughts were disturbed by Josh, as I watched him talk about Andrew Tate to the table next to me, also talking about drop shipping and how much money he makes, bragging to his friends. I silently watch as I see Bear and Dilly take in the information as if they’re jotting notes down in their minds. Jealously begins to creep in me. Yesterday in P.E. he chose Dilly over me! I tried to talk to him but he blatantly ignored me!

“Len, McDreamy, Honey Bun? Are you okay? You seem to be out of it today?” Natasha says

I snap back from my trance and notice Mango, Anna, and Natasha staring at me worriedly. I make a small reassuring grin to show that I’m fine, even though I wasn’t.

”I’m fine really! Just a bit out of it today!” I say reassuring them as I scratch to back of my head, though they look away buying the idea that I was fine, Natasha continues to stare at me worryingly as she goes back listening to the conversation while trying to do her work. I try to indulge in the conversation more but my eyes keep reverting back to Josh.

TIME SKIP

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

Science finally ended as I waited near the stairs for Josh. My arms crossed and one of my feet against the wall, my head down waiting to talk to Josh, avoiding any other eyes that weren't Josh’s. I see him and his little group. Jealousy pierces through me as I see him with Dilly and Bear. He notices me and tells his friends to go without him, his eyes meeting mine. I watch them leave as Josh's eyes still stare at mine, finally, they leave.

"What the shock?!" Josh says as he pushes my shoulder,

I uncross my arms and put both feet on the ground I slowly walk up to him, both hands on my hips. Face to face, I look at him with menacing eyes before grabbing both of Josh's shoulders and turning him, pinning him against the wall.  No one was in sight, just the two of us as I stared into his blue orbs.

"Have you been cheating on me with Dilly?" I say in a dominant and stern voice,

"Me?! You're really accusing that of me?!  What about you and Natasha?!"  Josh says making sure that the name is clear, as he pushes against my chest with his hands, trying to get away from me but I grab his forearm and bring him closer to me.

"Me and Natasha have nothing going on! She calls me stupid nicknames but that's it! She barley likes guys. You, on the other hand, you and Dilly do everything together."

Josh tugs away his forearm and escapes from my hands as he rolls his eyes and walks downstairs to his class, I hear the bell ring as I see a flood of students gush out of classrooms, I turn to the stairs in front of me, and felt a strong tough punch against my back. I turn to see who gave me such a punch. I see Kate with a mischievous grin,

"You having boy problems girlie? Don't worry I gotta you, bae, I got connections. So tell me all the hot tea between you too! I could seriously smell the tension from here." Kate says with her cheery valley accent walking next to him as they walk up the stairs.

"It's nothing, just... the usual," I say as I look the opposite way from Kate,

"The usual? Well, that sounds like a manipulative relationship honey, you should really get boys like that away from you, especially if he's talking to Dilly like that."

My eyes reverted to the floor at the mention of Dilly's name. Usually, at the end of the day, I would call either Natasha or Kate about my current boy problems so I wasn’t surprised that she knew the current situation. We arrived at her locker so she could put some of her stuff back and get her books, I leaned against the locker next to her and faced Kate.

“What should I do Kate? He’s avoiding all the questions I'm asking and distancing himself from me, I love him it's just I don't know what to do anymore.” I covered my face with my hands, dragging them off, looking back at Kate seeing that she had her things.

“I don’t know it's your choice, What do you wanna do?” she says placing a hand on my shoulder and then walking away to her class “Kate!” I say groaning.

‘What the hell am I gonna do?’

After the school day ended my mind still remained on one thought,

‘Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh,Josh.’

I love him, but the way I'm thinking about him is like thousands of swords stabbing into my skull over and over again. I grabbed my stuff from my locker and looked at my surroundings seeing if Josh was there.

Spoiler alert!

He’s not.

Sighing seeing how there was no point in looking for him because it's clear he doesn’t want me to. Walking down the stairs as I see the school doors, opening them seeing the dull skys and people outside. I walk out of the school and I see Josh and Dilly, I look at him as he notices my glare. We hold our glare for a while until I break it, walking out of the gates of hell.

I arrive home throwing my bag on the floor next to my bed before lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling. I wouldn’t, no I couldn’t stop thinking about him, I tossed and turned in my bed squeezing my eyes shut only to see fragments of him and me together. Is this it..? Were gonna break up arent we? What's gonna happen? Is our jealousy gonna distance us till we break? I don't want to, but, maybe I needed to… We need to… I grabbed my noise-canceling headphones and played a song, allowing me to cancel out everything else from the world,

John met me down on the boulevard

Cried on his shoulder 'cause life is hard

The waves came in over my head

What you been up to, my baby?

I felt as if I began sinking into my bed.

Drifting

and

Drifting off…

As I open my eyes to notice the environment around me has completely changed, I sit up in shock, I look around my room or not my room… Posters of LeBron James everywhere… my bedsheets my curtains my walls painted of LeBron James! Confused I stood up, realizing the similarities of my room from someone else… Noticing the placement of everything and my room structure. I ran to open my curtains, but while running up to open the curtains, I smelled a stench of cheese as I got nearer, expecting to see a forest. Which I did… but something else as well..or someone else… I open the curtains.

I see small handprints on the windowed doors…

my eyes widened,

I saw…

Lex?!

I jumped back surprised

”What the Shock?!”

I yell as I see Lex’s face push against the glass, clearly trying to listen to me or even try to watch me even though the curtains are closed. Before I could say anything else I watched Lex disappear from sight, still in shock, I rubbed it off clearly understanding what happened to me.

I take a good look around me again, and I realize I’m in My Hero Academia! Or I think I am..? Some universe with people I know from my universe. It was all too confusing all too much for any man to understand! I slam my head into the LeBron James Pillow. Closing my eyes believing that this was a dream! This is all a dream! I shut my eyes trying to get back, pinching myself to check if this is real! If any of this was real!

Spoiler alert…

This is real…

notes

If you from my school don't take this seriously please to anyone reading any feedback is appreciated! The fic is soon to be AO3, and on Wattpad, I hope you enjoyed it.

[saintanjiro]

Tomura is distracted to say the least, glancing around searching for you while he fights with Endeavor alongside Touya. Tomura takes way more hits than he needs, getting blasted back and the suit he wears burning and singed in certain areas. He sheds the top but then sees you’re surrounded, remaining calm until he sees how you go down. The way your head hits the ground makes his stomach turn. Seeing more heroes swarm you makes his blood boil.

Endeavor is coming at him with a Flash Firefist, Tomura managing to dodge it and take hold of number ones arm just enough to activate Decay but he jerks away but not before Touya is leaping at him with his flames burning the brightest they ever have.

“TWICE!” Tomura yells at the top of his lungs, base in his chest as he gains the man’s attention, “Sad man’s parade!”

That’s all Twice needed to hear before an explosion of doubles fills the room, for every ally, including you and the League, Twice’s clones outnumber them. The heroes try and pummel the clones but there’s always more to replace them, pushing them out of the way when Tomura gets close enough to a wall to touch it and watch it decay around them.

- Tomura

Twice's clones made it a lot easier. I feel a bit lightheaded, and at times I lose balance, but I'm doing alright over all; must have been the hit in my head.

I continue to fight, activating my quirk only when necessary since I'm wearing out, almost reaching my limit. I only use my fists, and my legs to kick, and punch whatever heroes are still hanging around. Soon enough, Twices clones have the job covered.

I watch as the wall decays around the enemies, finally destroying it all. Endeavor decides on retreat since most pro heroes are either dead or badly injured. Soon enough, he's carrying them all away.

My head begins to spin more, and I try to find support on a wall. I lean against it, breathing heavily as I close my eyes briefly.

"Cherry-chan, are you okay?" It's Toga's voice that snaps me out of it. I open my eyes, turning to her and flashing her a weak smile.

"Yeah... Just a bit tired," I retort, "It's been a long day after all..."

Toga doesn't look reassured at all, but I try to insist on the fact that I'm okay. I turn to Tomura, his back away from me, and I try to reach for him. Feeling the strength being drained off me suddenly, it only takes me two or three steps until I fall to the floor on my knees.

"Cherry chan!"

"M' fine... m'fine..." I mumble, trying to focus my gaze on my lap without it splitting like I'm seeing double.

I feel Toga's hand on the back of my head, and I can barely hear what she yells. Anyone who heard her, would immediately turn around to us.

It takes a lot of effort to reach for the back of my head too, which feels incredibly wet. Is it raining, or something?

When I take a look at my hand, all I see is blood, but I'm way too tired to be shocked.

"TOMURA-KUN!" She cries, holding me as I begin to lose even more strength, "CHERRY-CHAN'S HEAD!"

[werekxnglives]

Fall of the Faerens Finale

The night before had been more of a nightmare for Stephen. Gardenia made it personal to keep him on a tight leash, starve him for the sake of amusement throughout the day-she even tried to pick out his outfit but he actually stood up for himself and showed he had an eye for fashion. He paid for that one but at least during the festivities, he was able to sneak away, into the gardens where he met with Ralnor.

“I have to leave, Ral. I can’t bear this anymore!” Stephen hissed as they hid in one of the few hiding spots he knew of that hadn’t been discovered. He told Ralnor everything, even of his father’s company trying to ally themselves with not just Gardenia’s family but even that of Ralnor’s own fiancè, Azalea. “At least she’s better than Gardenia.” 

“You’d think so, but damn she’s a slave driver.” Ralnor piped in as he hugged him. “But yeah, compare how cruel Gardenia Lestrange is to Azalea’s ambition…” No words were needed as Stephen added, “I’ve been thinking of just going to the seas and being done with it. Or to the forest-Ralnor I can’t take it anymore. The voices are so strong-”

“Don’t. You die then I’ll be alone.” Ralnor had shaken him, causing Stephen to wince and even fear he was about to be hit. “Oh Baby…” He was hugged tightly as Stephen shed some tears. Ralnor kissed him deeply and just as Stephen was returning it-a bright flash from a photographer’s camera went off.

Gasping, Stephen looked up at Ralnor who had the same look of panic. 

And for good reason. 

The next morning, Stephen found his father in the dining hall. “Fa-Fa-Father?” He hadn’t expect to see Druindar up so early. And the paper…it had the picture of him kissing Ralnor on the front page. Oh no…

The next thing that happened was Stephen getting the worst beating of his life, his father’s insults-

CRASH!

Stephen looked to see he had thrown the mug against the wall and gasped. Shaking he then realized he was also crying, and just hugged himself, holding his pendant. He remembered what Amun told him, that if he could have-the Faerens would have been killed that day. 

Druindar’s beatings though weren’t the worst of that day. Oh no, there had been more…

Azalea had accused him of corporate espionage after rumors of a merger started. Arrested and for a while, Stephen thought that no one would believe him when he told the officers that he had only ever been to the office a few times to talk to her father about other deals with his father’s company. Plus there was no evidence of Azalea’s accusations being true, but the damage had been done.

Stephen was now labeled a thief and rogue, Gardenia made him pay her damages even blackmailed the family only to turn around and expose them for their illegal practices–it was a huge mess. It was raining that night when Stephen returned after a judge threw out the case. He came back mostly to just grab whatever he could from his room, but oh the insults hurled, the beatings–he had been very lucky to get out alive. 

“I’m free.” He said softly and ran to Ralnor’s manor. Surely Ralnor broke off the engagement to Azalea after learning of her falsifying records and falsely accusing him! They could be to…gether? Wait. 

Looking inside the manor’s window, he saw them together, toasting. And the words he heard felt like a knife to his heart. “To Vulluin, the easiest of Faerens to fool!” Azalea cackled. “Ugh, a year wasted on him; now that’s something to mourn.” 

He couldn’t believe it let alone want to. Knocking on the door, both Ralnor and Azalea answered, then laughed at him. “You were so stupid-did you really think Ralnor…Oh Bran, you did! You really thought that Ralnor loved you!” Azalea cackled as Stephen just stood there dumbfounded. Azalea continued until he snapped at her.

“SHUT UP BITCH!” That took her back as he looked at Ralnor. “You betrayed me…why?! Why the HELL DID YOU DO THAT?!”

Ralnor looked at him with a cold smirk and that was a punch in the stomach. “You’re a Faeren, Vulluin. If you weren’t, maybe things would have turned out differently. I did like you, you’re a sweet kid. Wasn’t lying about that or what I thought of you personally.” 

It was more than Stephen could bear and he didn’t fight security who escorted him off the grounds. 

He wandered for hours until Agatha’s voice rang out from the storm. “Vulluin!!” Turning around, he almost didn’t recognize her. Agatha looked so much older, paler-yet she ran to him and hugged him. “Vulluin, oh Honey I’m so sorry! We just got back from the hospital-”

“You were right.” He said. Stephen had no life left, he was defeated and just done. “I never should have dated him…never should have revealed anything.” Stephen didn’t see the anguish in her eyes as she held him. But it was clear-this was all too much for him to process right now. Stephen then was shaken a little by Alphonse helping him into the car they had ‘borrowed’ from their employer. “I can’t-”

“We’re not taking you back there, Vulluin.” Stephen flinched at his name and explained that he no longer was entitled to it. It had been stripped from him by Druindar and Zentha. “Nevertheless, you’ll never have to return.” Alphonse continued when he handed the young elf a duffle bag. Opening it, Stephen to his surprise saw his clothes and those that meant a great deal as well as money and a ticket that would get him out of New York. 

“Alphonse-”

“Take it, Son. Take it and never return to this Godforsaken place. Use the money to get out of here, start a new life for yourself.” Agatha spoke softly yet firmly. “Listen to the voices within you, but please never come back here. Alphonse and I never want to see you here…there is nothing left for you. Not even us, Sweetheart.” Now he saw the anguish in her eyes as she spoke those words. “Alphonse and I have lived a good life, and the Gods blessed us once more when you came into our lives. But you must flee from here. We love you and wish you the best.”

The old man sniffled as he added, “Aggie and I love you as our own. We’ll always love you and as far as the world is concerned, you’re our son. Our youngest.” They cried for almost an hour but soon enough, Stephen had to leave the car before anyone else saw them. 

And that was the last time Stephen ever saw the elderly couple. “I miss you two so much…” He sniffled when he felt Yun’s warmth. It was enough for him to break and he cried quietly into the night, falling asleep on his mattress. A white furry dragon was there next to him, though, always watching; always guarding the elf. 

You’re never going to be alone again, My Son. That much, I promise.

[watchmegetobsessed]

LIBERATION II.

A/N: thank you huys so much for all the love you showed for the first part of liberation and i know i broke a few hearts with it so im hoping this will make up for it all!! can't wait to read your comments and reactions!

PAIRING: guard!Harry X royal!Reader

WARNINGS: arranged marriage

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

Read LIBERATION I. here!

masterlist

You haven’t had a moment to yourself since seven in the morning. You woke up around six, wrapped up in Harry’s warm embrace and you thought about never leaving, just staying there for the rest of the day while your mother gets a stroke and your father punches a hole into the wall when they can’t find you on your wedding day.

But you knew you couldn’t do that.

So peeling yourself out of the arms of the man you love the most, you allowed yourself one last glance at him as he lied tangled in sheets, sleeping peacefully before you walked out of the room and away from the chance to ever feel happy again.

You cried in the shower for almost an hour, then decided that no more tears would be shed today and you’ve kept a straight face ever since.

You’ve been getting your hair, makeup and nails done since seven when you maids and the beauty team your mother hired have attacked your room. Every time you look in the mirror you see the dress hanging in the background, mocking you, almost laughing at you how you’ve dreamt about your wedding day as a little girl and now it’s the worst day of your life.

When your mother walks into the room and sees you with your makeup and hair all done, she gasps in awe, but you just give her an unimpressed look.

“You look wonderful, Y/N!”

“I wish I felt like that too,” you mumble under your breath. Her features hard and she is quick to order everyone to leave the room, giving the two of you some privacy.

“Stop acting like a child and grow up already.” Her tone misses the softness that was there just moments ago. Walking up behind you her eyes lock with yours in the mirror. “Don’t think I don’t know where you spent last night.”

Your lips part at the revelation. How could she find out? You made sure no one saw you, or is she just guessing?

“I will request Harry’s relocating after the wedding.”

“What?” you snap, jumping to your feet. “You can’t do that!”

“I can and I will. I won’t wait for you to make a mistake and ruin everything, Y/N. What do you think would happen if the press found out that the future queen has been cheating on her fiancé with one of her security guards?!”

“And what do you think people would say if they found out I’m being forced into this marriage?” you talked back, standing up for yourself for once. You can tell she is taken aback by your sudden attitude change, but she restores her posture quickly, keeping her chin up. Arrogance is all over her features, it always ruined the possibility for having a normal mother-daughter relationship between the two of you. She always put the palace and the family’s reputation above everything. You could have never been her number one priority.

She steps closer and gives you a warning look, her hand grabbing onto your forearm tighter than you’d like her to touch you.

“People like us have to make more and bigger sacrifices than others. We have to be the example for others so they have someone to look up to. If you ruin our reputation and show them our weaknesses, we won’t be different from them and lose our authority.”

“Why is it so bad that people will see us just like themselves? We are all human after all,” you whisper in despair, but she shakes her head.

“That’s not how it works, Y/N. But you’ll realize it, you have a lot to learn.” And with that she steps away from you, her eyes falling on the dress. “I’ll send Kristin and Mary in to help you get dressed. We have to leave to the cathedral in an hour,” she dryly says before walking out of the room.

Your lips start trembling as you stare out the window, your eyes glued to Harry’s window that’s closed, no movement can be seen inside. He is probably already with his team, making sure everything is going smoothly today.

You wish he was there with you. Or better, he was the one you would be walking down the aisle towards soon.

The next hour is a blur, people come and go in your room, you get dressed and the seamstress fixes it up on you one last time, making sure it fits you like a glove. Everyone keeps telling you how beautiful you look, how lucky Andrew is and that you’re gonna be the most beautiful bride your bloodline has ever seen. You feel like a fraud with each passing moment, but you can’t do anything about that, or that’s what you keep telling yourself.

When you’re getting ready to leave, three people helping you with the train of your dress, there’s a knock on the door no one seems to hear but you.

“Come in!” you call out. The door slowly opens, the chatter around you never stops, but it stops in your head the moment you see Harry walk into the room.

You see the shock in his eyes at first, the pain and sadness, but he is quick to mask it all when he realizes that you’re watching him. He looks around at all the people circling you and you know you need to have a moment with him alone.

“Would you please give me a moment to discuss some security matters with Mr. Styles?” you turn to your helpers and they are quick to abandon their task and leave the room, alone with Harry.

When the door closes and the silence returns you haven’t had all day, the two of you just stand there, staring at each other. He is wearing his usual black suit and white shirt, his earpiece hanging from around his neck and you know a gun is hidden under his jacket. In the meantime, he is taking you in, wearing the sophisticated, long sleeved dress, your tiara you’ve been wearing since you were fourteen pinned to the top of your head, the veil missing just yet, but it’s just as long as the train of your dress that you’ll have to drag after you walking down the aisle.

His eyes move up to meet your gaze and you realize that he is tearing up, though he is quick to blink it away.

“You look… beautiful,” he breathes out. Biting into your bottom lip you look down at your hands, trying to keep yourself together.

“Thank you. I’m… I’m sorry that I wasn’t there in the morning…”

“Don’t worry about any of that. I understand.”

You breathe out shakily as you look up to him again. This feels like straight torture, a situation you never thought you would have to deal with, yet here you are.

“I won’t be at the cathedral today,” he speaks up in a more stern voice, the one he uses when he talks about something work related.

“What? Why?” you ask, though you realize how stupid it sounds, you know exactly why he doesn’t want to be there, but it still upsets you. He is the one you feel the safest around and today is a risky event.

“You’ll be in great hands, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, you know that.”

“I know, I just… This is not how it should have ended,” you add in a whisper, the tears dwelling in your eyes again.

“It’s alright,” he smiles softly, but you don’t miss the sadness in his eyes. “I’m happy I got to have you just for a little bit.”

“You’ll always have me,” you whisper and catch a tear before it could roll down your cheek. Harry clears his throat and a knock is heard on the door, a warning that you don’t have any more time left. “Coming!” you call out. Your hand reaches out and you lace your fingers together, giving his hand a squeeze. “Thank you for everything, Harry.”

He doesn’t say a word, just nods, returning the squeeze before letting go of you.

When the door opens again and everyone floods back into the room you lose track of Harry, only catching his back as he walks out and disappears. It’s a moment when something definitely breaks in you.

The way from the palace to the cathedral is loaded with people on the roadside behind the guards, police cars are everywhere and the biggest royal family fans are dying to get a glimpse of you before everyone else. It takes some time and some planning to get you into the car without ruining your dress, but you finally manage. Your mother rides with you, dressed in a soft pink costume, a hat so big that she had to take it off to get into the car.

She keeps babbling about her guesses what other guests will wear, already dragging your father’s cousin who usually never gets the dress code right. It’s just empty talk to you though, the words barely get to your head.

“Can you believe Cecil didn’t reach out to me to ask what color I’ll be wearing?” she scoffs, grimacing at your future mother-in-law. You turn your head slowly, looking at her with empty, blank eyes, but she doesn’t even notice it. Her daughter is going through the worst day of her life and all she can talk about is dresses and gossip, you don’t even know who this woman is next to you anymore.

Every possible news channel and website have been camping in front of the cathedral since probably yesterday. A photo of you before stepping inside would worth millions, but it’s been made sure that the first glimpse anyone can get of you would be the moment you start walking down the aisle. They sneak you into the building that’s already filled and somewhere in there your future husband is waiting for you.

One last touch up, making sure that everything is perfectly in place and before your mother leaves your side to take her place you shoot her one last desperate look, hoping that a miracle happens and she realizes how wrong it is to force you into this marriage. But you’re only met with that well-practiced charming smile she always gives to the public. She kisses you on the cheek and simply walks out.

There’s just a few moments of silence when everyone leaves the room to check if it’s time to start. The flower girls are already lined up outside separated from you, your father is out there somewhere too, waiting to meet you to walk you down the aisle where Andrew is waiting for you already.

There’s a whole life out there and you’re just about to dive into it, throwing away everything you love and care for and most importantly, your free will to marry someone you’re in love with.

Is this really what you want? Is this worth the pain and suffering? Are you really that dedicated to the throne to go through with it and ruin your own happiness? You think about all the people out there, dying to finally see you in your dress, make the sacrifice that’s been clouding over you for years.

When the organ starts playing somewhere in the cathedral your last string snaps inside you, your chest feels like exploding as all the blood rushes into your head. You need to get out of here.

You know you only have seconds to make it out of here before they come and get you, snapping your head around in a frenzy you look for another exit and you spot the small door at the back of the room and you go for it faster than you’ve ever moved. You’re quick to discard the veil, it’s heavy on your head and thinking fast you also rip off the train of your dress. If you weren’t about to escape your own wedding you’d actually be sad for ruining the dress, it costs way too much to be treated like this, but you can’t even think about that right now.

Your heart is drumming in your ear as you throw the door open, relieved to find it unlocked. A tiny corridor is leading down along the side of the cathedral and you start sprinting as fast as your dress allows you to. You reach another door and pushing it open you find yourself in the garden behind the cathedral. Looking around you’re trying to think fast and that’s when you spot the car that drove you hever, parking at the side of the road, the driver sitting behind the wheel. It’s like a gift sent from above.

Chest heaving, holding the front of your dress up you run through the rose bushes and push the tiny gate open that separated you from the car. The poor driver jumps in panic when the door flies open and he sees you climbing in.

“Princess Y/N, what--”

“Drive me back to the palace. Now!” you order and you see a moment of hesitation in his eyes, but when he sees the determination on your face, he doesn’t question you again, just starts the car with a nod of his head.

Just right then, you see your maids run out into the garden with wide eyes, looking for you as if they life depended on finding you and luckily they don’t catch you sitting in the car as you disappear from their view.

You see all the people again on the way back, no clue about what’s happening and you feel a strong wave of relief washing over you as you’re getting closer to the palace. For the first time in your life you finally did something for yourself, for your own happiness and nothing can make you regret it, not even your parents’ anger when they find out that you ran away from the wedding.

The palace is oddly empty since everyone who matters is at the cathedral, only part of the staff working on the catering and last minute decoration. You earn quite a few shocking stares as you jump out of the car and run inside as if you're being chased and in a sense, you are. It’s just a matter of time until they come to find you, they will not let you out of their grasp that easily.

“Harry! Where’s Harry?” you ask gasping for air when you see a guard. Poor guy blocks down seeing you like this and it takes a few seconds for him to process the question.

“Uh, ballroom, probably,” he breathes out and you’re on your way again.

Sprinting down the hallways to the East wing where the ballroom is, your feet start hurting as if they are on fire and you stop just for a moment to kick your shoes off and continue your way barefeet. The massive double doors are open and you hear chatter coming from inside, finally hearing that one voice you’ve been running towards.

“Harry! Harry!” you shout from outside and when you finally get through the doors you stop and look for him, finding him in the middle of the room, just as frozen as everyone else is to see you there when you should be walking down the aisle currently.

“Y/N?” he asks quietly, as if he is not sure it’s you he is seeing or just an illusion. But as you launch at him, throwing yourself into his arms he comes to the realization that it’s not just a trick his mind is playing with him.

“I couldn’t do it, I don’t want to do this, I want to be with you!” You’re trying to catch your breath, clinging onto him for dear life as he keeps you tight in his embrace, his face buried into your hair.

“You ran away? Y/N, you shouldn’t have…”

“I had to!” Leaning back you look into his eyes as you cup his face in your hands, ignoring all the stares you’re getting from the staff around you as they witness the scene. “I love you, I want to be with you. Please tell me you want to be with me!”

“Is this for real?” he breathes out, his fingers kneading on your waist through the fabric of your dress as if he is working to get underneath it, though the corset is making it quite hard.

“It is! I’m done with all of this. I will not obey their selfish needs anymore. I want to live my life… with you.”

He is staring back at you with wide, glistening eyes, lips parted as he processes your words. He was not expecting this to happen, not after last night and your last time seeing each other this morning. Harry was convinced he lost you forever and he was already making peace with the fact that he’ll have to live with a broken heart for the rest of his life. And then you barge into here, telling him you left it all behind and he still can’t believe it’s not just a fever dream.

“Last night you said you wanted to run away with me. If you still want to, I’m ready. Let’s go, pack our stuff and leave. Now.”

“Are you sure this is what you want? There’s no going back from this, Y/N. There will be consequences.”

“I already have to face those for leaving the wedding even if we don’t go now,” you tell him chuckling as you stare up at him with hopeful eyes. “I want this, I want you. I want to have the life with you that we talked about.”

“Y/N…”

“Harry, please!” you beg him, pushing yourself further into his embrace. You can’t have him say no now, this is the moment you talked about for so long, the moment of liberation that was only just a fantasy until you made that decision in the cathedral just not long ago.

he stares back at you just for a heartbeat, though it feels way longer than that, before he nods and finally pulls you in for a kiss, his lips pressing against yours hard, for the first time with people around you.

And for your surprise, a round of applause and cheering erupts around you, and when you lean back to look around, you see all the staff and the other guards watching you with nothing but happiness.

“Finally!” someone shouts, making the both of you chuckle. Have they known something was between you and Harry for a while? Maybe you weren’t as sneaky as you thought.

“We have to get out of here before they come after you. They won’t let you leave if they have the chance to stop you,” Harry tells you in a rush, already pulling you towards the door.

A few guards run after you, clearly to help you with anything and you have to part ways with Harry so the both of you can quickly pack everything you need before leaving. He kisses you shortly, promising to see you at the car and off you go.

First things first you get rid of the pain in the ass but still gorgeous dress and put on just a pair of jeans and a simple t-shirt with a hoodie. Grabbing the first suitcase you can find you start throwing everything into it in a hurry, one of the guards, Teresa helping you out. In just five short minutes, you pack up a fracture of your life and by closing the suitcase you leave the room behind that you might never see again in your life.

“If you don’t mind, Princess Y/N, I had the staff pack you some food and drinks in case you have to be on the road for a long time,” a server appears smiling shyly as he hands you a bag of goodies. This is insane, people are helping you escape from the palace on your wedding day so you can run away with the love of your life, you always thought things like this only happens in movies, yet here you are!

“Thank you so much!” you smile at him, putting the bag to the backseat just when Harry runs out of the building with his own stuff, his right hand, Frank following him as they are discussing something in a hurry.

“Got it, don’t worry, boss,” Frank nods as they reach the car and Harry throws his own bags to the backseat.

“Thank you. Take care,” Harry pulls you into a quick, brotherly hug before he turns to you. “Got everything you need?”

“I guess,” you breathe out a soft chuckle.

“Alright, let’s go before they get here.”

Just when the words leave his mouth, you see a convoy of cars get through the main gate and you know your raging parents are sitting in one of those cars. You have to leave now.

The two of you jump into the car and as Harry starts it, Frank taps on the window.

“The back gate is open, we’ll make sure to tell them no one saw which way you went,” he tells him through the rolled down window.

“Thank you, I owe you big time,” Harry nods and steps on the gas pedal, a cloud of dust swirling behind you as you speed towards the gate behind the palace. Just as Frank said, it’s waiting for you wide open, the guard standing with a proud smile, waving at you as you leave the property, your heart drumming in your ears as realization sets in about what truly just happened.

Reaching over you take Harry’s hand and he brings yours up to his lips, kissing your knuckles as he takes the road leading out of the city, there’s no way you can stay around for now. Not until you figure out what’s gonna be your next step.

“I have a friend living near the border. It’s a tiny town and he has a land in the middle of basically nowhere. No one will find us there and we can stay there until we know what’s next,” Harry tells you and you nod with a small smile. You’d go anywhere with him, it doesn’t matter, only to have him next to you.

“Sounds perfect.”

As the city starts to fade around you and your car becomes one with the usual early afternoon traffic, Harry keeps glancing your way, a truly happy smile stretching across his face.

“What?” you ask chuckling.

“Nothing. I just… can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

[shayewrites]

Hold Your Head High, Soldier

pairing: levi ackerman x fem!reader

cw: violence, hurt/comfort, maybe a little gorey to younger viewers (if you can’t handle this then i’d recommend not watching this anime in the first place tbh.)

masterlist. navigation.

The first time you went outside the walls, you swore you’d never go back out again. It was horrifying to watch your comrades be eaten alive, to hear the sharp cut off of their screams, and to be the one to survive when so many hadn’t made it back. Only a handful of squads made it back to Wall Maria, and even less survived the following days to come. 

Since then, you found it easier to leave the comfort of the walls. Each expedition seemed easier to stomach, easier to look forward to, but the one thing that never got easier to bear was the staggering death tolls that came with each new venture into titan country. 

As a lieutenant in the Survey Corp, you were also a squad leader. You were tasked with looking over three soldiers close your own age, along with a pair of new cadets who seemed eager to prove themselves, claiming that they would be the ones to help push humanity forward. You admired them for their courage, but you were also able to see straight through their brave words and confident smiles they flashed to one another, right to the fear that had them squeezing the reigns of their horses a little tighter and subconsciously toying with the handles of their ODM gear. Looking back to just that morning’s lighthearted excitement and curiosity was like a punch to the gut as you alone carried their memory with you back to Wall Rose. 

The abnormal titan had come like lightning, bringing a horde of titans with her. Your squad of rookies and amateurs like yourself were outnumbered within a matter of moments. The titan had an agility that had never been witnessed before, tearing through each of your squadmates as if they were flies, knocking them into the abandoned buildings and trees that had formed the perfect place for a titan ambush. You had flown up to her nape, only to be swatted away, knocked into a nearby tree with your wire snapped and tangled in the branches that were the only difference between you and the 3-meter titan that glared at you with a look of pure gluttony. One move could snap the line, careening you into the titan’s mouth that hung open, confident that you would fall into it eventually. It had to be fate that called the titan away from you, watching as it and two others that had been lingering in the area suddenly made a beeline for the gigantic pines you could make out in the distance. It had been a gamble, but you snapped the line, racing into the abandoned village to locate any of your squadmates. What you found was nothing like you had expected.

“Lieutenant-” a breathy groan came from below your feet where one of the rookies had been eaten legs first, conscious through the whole endeavor. You rushed to apply pressure, but the blood was too much, staining your hands and the sleeves of your scouting jacket.

“Hang in there! Help will come soon! I-I’m sure they-they’ll see the f-flare and we’ll…we’ll find a way, I swear,” you rambled, locating the soldier’s flare and sending up a red flare, praying that one of the squads would see the smoke and come to your aid. 

The rookie took your hand, “It’s too late. I know.” You started to argue, but the rookie struggled to shake their head just whispering now, “Take my horse, please. Just tell my ma I-” His voice failed, “Tell Ma I’m-I’m so sorry…”

You sobbed as you checked his pulse one last time to find it missing. He was gone, just like the rest of your squadmates. After using your fingers to close his eyes for the last time, you made a dash for the horse calmly chewing on the few blades of grass that were unstained from the blood that had been shed. The horse belonged to your second-in-command, but the arm of his jacket resting on the reigns of the horse was enough to infer that he had met the same fate as the rookie. You hopped onto the horse and made like hell in the direction of a singular blue flare that rose above the clouds. Retreat.

After a few minutes, you crossed paths with the remaining outskirt squads. They looked battered, beaten, and on the brink of total exhaustion, one cadet in particular mentioned feeling as if they had fought an entire war in the span of a few hours. You found yourself agreeing. Never had you, or the Survey Corp for that matter, faced so many casualties since your first expedition out into the unknown. Among the soldiers, you searched for either one of the section-commanders or your direct superior, Captain Levi. It took a few scans of the crowed before you located any of them, but it was Captain Levi who found you first, his steel blue eyes finding yours.

His feet immediately began to move, parting the crowd as he made his way to you. All of the sudden, you were aware of how you looked, sure that your jacket was stained a deep red rather than a tan-brown color, the left arm torn down to the white shirt you wore underneath from where you had been thrown into the tree branches. You were without ODM gear, just the harness remained with straps undone and ripped in places. You weren’t even going to think about how your hair must have looked.

“Lieutenant, you’re alright?” he asked.

Levi had always been a mystery to you, but as your superior, you learned to read between the lines quickly. He was blunt and to the point, but that didn’t mean that he was without care. The fact that he had asked at all was a reminder of that.

You nodded, “Yeah, but my squad didn’t make it out.”

He glanced around, almost looking as if he were hoping to prove you wrong, but when he couldn’t find them among the crowd, he hummed solemnly, “I’m sorry, y/n.” That was all you had expected him to say before whisking away to help with the retreat efforts, but to your surprise he gave you a final request, “Find me after this is all over, alright?”

You didn’t have time to respond before he was gone, like a vapor in the wind. As you rode back, you found yourself worrying that you were going to face demotion for the loss of your squad, but you noticed from the thin numbers of returning scouts that his squad appeared to be missing as well. You shook your head, remembering that they were in charge of guarding Eren. They would likely be tucked away until the final stretch to the wall. However, as the wall came into view, the pillars of security and safety, you realized that they never showed, leading you to come to the conclusion that perhaps you weren’t the only one facing the guilt and remorse of this expedition.

Once the sun began to set, you made your way to the captain’s office, knowing you waited longer than necessary, but you were unsure if he had even returned from the makeshift infirmary yet. Still, you knocked on the door, calling out his name before opening the door. You were expecting to find him nursing a cup of tea, looking over the reports of the expedition and signing off on the death certificates, of which there would be many. However, you found him with his head down on the desk, a single wings of freedom patch in his hands.

You started to leave, recognizing that he might be in mourning, but he stopped you, “y/n, you can come in. I just needed a moment.”

“Sir, take all the time you need. I understand your loss,” you replied, a hand clutching the fabric of your shirt, “This isn’t the first time either of us have come back from the field with a loss.” A single tear threatened to fall, but you kept it in, turning away from the captain’s gaze as he lifted his head. 

He sighed, “No, it isn’t, but despite it all, we always seem to come out the other side. Why is that?”

You weren’t sure if his question was rhetorical or not, but the intensity of his gaze prompted you to reply, “I wish I could tell you, captain. Maybe it’s fate. Maybe it’s luck. Either way, we still lose by being the ones to survive.”

Levi huffed as he ran a hand through his hair, “Not the answer I expected to hear from you.”

You smiled softly, understanding what he meant. You were the more positive out of the two of you, the optimist and the pessimist, the perfect dynamic lieutenant-captain duo, but you were finding it hard to find that optimism now. “I think you just might be rubbing off on me, captain.”

“Levi. How many times am I going to have to ask you to call me that in private?” he lightly scolded with a subtle, teasing glint in his eyes.

You chuckled gently, “At least a million times more, captain.” Suddenly, your face dropped, the banter turning serious as a dangerous thought prodded your mind, “That is if we live that long.”

You weren’t sure where the thought came from, but once it was rooted, it took hold, flashing images of either of you having to go on without the other, being just another soldier sacrificed in the name of humanity, in the name of an ideal that was becoming more hopeless with each passing day. What would you do if he were to leave you behind here on this wretched Earth? Would he even bat an eye if you were the one to pass on? Your head lowered as you realized that you were likely just another number, another lieutenant for him to babysit after the few who had come before you. No tears would be shed, because he’s Captain Levi, the pillar of strength and stoicness.

Without warning, your head was lifted up by the ginger touch of the captain, “Hold your head high, soldier. We may not be promised tomorrow, but we take it with stride, moving forward with each day, each chance, that we are given.” His eyes momentarily flicked down to your lips before returning to hold your gaze, “I wouldn’t mind hearing you call me captain everyday as long as you could promise me a tomorrow where my name would cross your lips. It gives us both something to live for, even if it might be small.”

You chuckled lightly, finding his statement amusing, “So we live for each other?” 

He shrugged, pulling his hand away from your face, “You could say that I suppose.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad, captain.”

“I agree.”

shayewrites tumblr 2022

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[astaroth1357]

Instructions:

*what seems like an average day in the brothers' human world mansion is anything but... Out in the backyard, all seven Lords of Hell are all crowded around the pieces of a poorly constructed outdoor shed, shouting at each other*

Levi: *pulls his screwdriver out of the corner wall, having been attempting to put in the same screw for ages now* Satan, it won't fit! Are you sure I'm supposed to use the NN screws?

Lucifer: *looks over from trying to jam a portion of the roof into the proper slots with Beel* What screws did you tell him to use, Satan? I thought NN were for the roof.

Satan: *holding a packet of instructions as thick as a novella and glaring at the diagrams like they're heilographics* Look, I can’t make heads or tails of these directions!

Asmo: *calls out from inside the half built shed, trying to fix the bolts in the walls* Guys, the walls are coming apart!!

Beel: *repositions himself so he can jam the roof down with gusto, but it's ineffective* Lucifer, I think we need more weight on top...

Lucifer: *sighs* Very well... Someone throw Mammon onto the roof.

Mammon: *digging through the piles and piles of bags filled with nuts, bolts, and Devil knows what else* Hey, not now!! I can't find the damn washers! Use Belphie, he's dead weight right now anyway!

Belphie: *laying in the middle of the shed floor, clutching a mallet and napping since he gave up hours ago* ZzzzZzzZzz-shuddupMammon-zzZzzZzzzz....

Levi: But if we throw someone on top right now, won't the whole thing fall apart anyway...?

Lucifer: *starts grinding his teeth some as the roof pops out again, about ready to start punching the roof into place with his fists* Then someone find us some rope!

Asmo: I have some~!! 😘

Lucifer: Not that kind of rope...

Satan: *starts wandering around the outside of the shed, muttering to himself* If corner F is here then bolt BBB goes... Wait! I think I understand!! I know what it wants us to!-Uh...! Hold on... Never mind, no, I don't....

Levi: *pulls out his cellphone* I think we just call MC...

Lucifer: Absolutely not.

Beel: *pulls the mix-matched piece of roof up and sighs* I'm getting hungry...

Asmo: *squeals and covers his face* Beel!! Put the roof back on! I've already been in the sun for hours and it's going to destroy my beautiful skin!! 😫

Mammon: *comes running to the group carrying a single washer* Guys, guys!! I found one!!

Levi: One?! We needed twelve!

Satan: *about to enter full Wrath-mode and tear the instructions in half* HOW IN THE WORLD DO HUMANS READ THESE!?!

Asmo: 😨 Satan, no! That's our only booklet!!!

Levi: Okay, I'm calling MC. *lifts up his phone*

Lucifer: Don't you dare! I refuse to be bested by a piece of plastic!!!

Asmo: *steps out of the shed, shielding his eyes with his hand* Well then I'm going back inside, if anyone wants to join me.

Mammon: *tosses the washer over his shoulder* Best idea we've had all day!

Levi: *puts his phone down, shrugging* Works for me.

Beel: Mm... Ice cream... *drops the roof piece while Lucifer's eyes practically glow in rage*

Lucifer: If you three think that I'd allow you to-

*Lucifer’s oncoming rant gets cut off by the sound of snapping coming from inside the shed as the bolts fail and the whole structure collapses in on itself... wasting half a day's worth of work along with it*

Everyone: ....

Lucifer: ... Never mind...

*there's a collective cheer among the brothers left standing but as they turn to race back inside, Levi hangs back for a moment...*

Levi: Wait... I think we're forgetting something...

*the plastic pieces all get pushed up as Belphie starts to crawl his way to the top of the mess*

Belphie: Uh... hello???

All:

All: 😨

Mammon: SHIT WE FORGOT ABOUT BELPHIE!!! 😫

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Do you have any autistic Scout headcanons? :P

Hell yeah!

I’ve actually thought about this a lot. A lot of people might think that Scout has ADHD, but I think he either has both ADHD and autism or just autism.

This is both because labeling Scout as having just ADHD is kind of a low-hanging fruit, and I also want to explore his symptoms a little more. So, in a word, I do, and thank you for asking about them!

*****************

Scout’s Spectrum:

So, where exactly does Scout fall on the autism spectrum?

First of all, he probably has both ADHD and autism, but wasn’t diagnosed with the latter until much later. This means that some of his symptoms were taken into account, but not all.

The ones that were paid attention to ramped up out of control, and the ones he didn’t hear about were stuffed away.

His ADHD symptoms include impulsiveness, need for stimulation, hyperfixations, forgetfulness, and insomnia; his autism symptoms include trouble with social skills, stimming, near inability to remember names and faces, lack of eye contact, hyperfixations again, and sensory processing issues, especially with noise and touch.

He used to have a lot of meltdowns when he was younger, usually about wearing new clothes and the amount of noise his eight brothers generated.

However, he was teased and pushed into masking nearly all the time, and made his whole personality about his ADHD, since that was what everyone accepted.

As he got older, he usually wrote off any autistic tendencies as either his ADHD or just “little habits” of his.

During his middle school years, he used energy drinks to bounce back from being exhausted every day after school. This would work, except those energy drinks would upset his ADHD, and would make it much harder to focus on even basic conversation.

After a while, he got such bad grades and had such a hard time making friends that Scout just stopped going to school altogether.

Baseball helped his focus, and the quick movement and thinking made a lot of sense to him. He never had to wait very long for the next development, and the instant gratification and community it provided supplemented what he never got at school.

With sports on his side, he rarely ever drank any energy drinks (the coach would never let them on the field), and he drank bucketfuls of water during every meet and game. Those teenage years were probably the healthiest he ever was.

However, with the amount of rumbles he got into with his brothers, and the turf wars that constantly raged in those neighborhoods, it was only a matter of time before his crime caught up with him.

After his first incarceration, he was booted from the team, which led to a downward spiral of unhealthy coping mechanisms - which included fighting someone tooth and nail whenever he could.

Even if he lost the fight, it not only catered to his impulsive nature and impatience, but also gave him roughly the same sense of friendship and camaraderie that baseball had.

One thing led to another, and by the time Mann Co. found him, Scout was a monster in hand to hand (and bat to bat) and had racked up quite the criminal record.

A perfect mercenary, ripe for the picking.

On The Team:

Scout very quickly adopted the “stupid, scrappy Boston boy” persona.

It was the only thing that made sense, and it kept him from having to try too hard in both the battlefield and socially.

Besides, that meant that he could be as silly, forgetful, and fidgety as he wanted, and no one would bat an eye.

And if he ever needed to take a break from the team, he figured everyone would appreciate the quiet.

The only thing that ever gave him away was him occasionally dissociating right when battle began, especially if the day had been stressful.

It was usually how he calmed down after a fight when he was young, but now he sometimes slid into that state when he was overwhelmed.

However, a yell from one of his teammates would usually snap him out of it.

Medic noticed this pretty early on, and wanted to look more into it, but Scout would keep making excuses not to get a mental examination.

He would blame it on zoning out, being tired, drinking too many Bonks - whatever it took for people to stop asking.

And, eventually, they did.

Even Medic stopped asking after a while - he couldn’t get a thing out of Scout.

This “try so little that when you do try it’s above average” charade worked for a long time. In fact, it went on for so long that Scout forgot how much he was actually capable of.

He began to internalize the stupidity, the exacerbation, the many comments on how dumb he was, everything.

The only time he ever gave his all was on the battlefield - moving fast, memorizing strategies, doing complicated footwork, knowing exactly how much force it took to crush someone’s skull with his bat.

That was one of the only things that he felt good doing, the only thing he could really work on without him being “found out.”

That and drawing, though he never showed the actual pieces to anyone. It was all stick figures and crooked lines with everyone else.

Sometimes, though, Scout wouldn’t be paying attention and he’d let something slip.

One time, Engineer was looking for his screwdriver, and couldn’t seem to find it anywhere.

Scout, not looking up from his comic, said, “Under the couch cushion, hard hat.”

Engineer bent down and reached into the couch, and his hand came back with his red and yellow striped screwdriver.

“Well I’ll be damned…”

At first Engineer thought Scout had just hid it, but Scout explained, still not paying attention:

“Last time we went out on th’ field, you had it on your belt, like always. But I was walkin’ by your workshop, you were usin’ a quarter to tighten a screw or somethin’. Your screwdriver had to be somewhere between the battlefield and your workshop. Engie, you’re like freakin’ clockwork. Every day, after a fight, you go to the kitchen, get a water, go to that couch, between the second and third cushion from the left, and sit there. Then ya go back to the fridge to get lunch and a beer, and ya go to your workshop until somebody needs you for somethin’. Your back loop in your tool belt is looser than all the others, ‘cause the screwdriver pulls against it when you sit down. The shank was probably in between the two cushions, and when you got up, it fell in. Demo, Pyro, and Heavy all sit on the second or third cushion at some point, so it got shimmied down. And since that’s the only time you sat down, ‘cause you woulda heard it if it dropped on the floor, and I…uh…”

“I’ll be damned,” Engie repeated, and felt the back tool belt loop. It was indeed loose.

Scout finally looked up, and realized what had happened.

“Uh, uh - l-lucky guess, huh Engie?”

Engineer squinted behind his goggles. “Yeah…real lucky…”

What ensued was Engie trying to get Scout to turn into a B.L.U Spy by chasing him around with his wrench. After a few good hits, though, Engineer saw that it was the teammate he knew and loved.

“But…how didja…?”

Scout threw his hand up, the other rubbing the back of his head where he’d been hit.

“I toldja Engie! Lucky guess! Jesus!”

Ever since then, Scout chose his words more carefully.

The Breakdown:

But, unfortunately, Scout could not pretend forever.

There was one week where Scout’s assignment count was so high that, if he wasn’t in a fight, he was on a mission.

Usually, Pauling wouldn’t trust him with so much, but no one else was available - or willing - to do the jobs.

Even when she was getting concerned about the amount of hours Scout was putting in, he blew it off.

“It’s no sweat, Miss Pauling! Their practically givin’ me the pay day. Those yahoos don’t know who they’re messin’ with.”

Over time, though, Scout had a harder and harder time staying focused and alert.

He’d sleep through alarms, stare off into space, zone out completely during briefing (not that he didn’t already do that), have a hard time hearing people in battle - even through his headset - ignore Spy’s taunts, and even forget to bring his bat onto the field.

Nothing seemed to help - Bonk!, warming up, stretching, cold showers, setting reminders, nothing.

And the team was starting to notice.

At first it was with the regular frustration - maybe Scout was just being lazy.

But as time went on, and his condition grew worse, their scorn turned into worry. They implored Medic to do something, but he had no way of getting through to Scout.

The doctor wasn’t above simply sedating him and dragging him into his lab for a check-up. However, he had a feeling that this was more than a physical issue.

The worst came when Scout was doing a routine battle with the B.L.U team on the field.

Everything had started out okay - he even remembered to bring his bad this time - but suddenly, everything was ear-splittingly loud.

He couldn’t focus on more than one sound at once, much less communicate the best course of action to his teammates.

He ended up hiding in a dilapidated shed, in a dusty, dark corner, somewhere between zoning out and panicking.

Scout’s head was in his knees, he was shaking, close to crying, when a sudden splitting of wood roused him.

A B.L.U Soldier had kicked his way into the shed, either having heard Scout or to hide from the other team.

Scout was stunned at first, but something of a blind terror filled him. He picked up his bat, screamed, and started pummeling the surprised Soldier.

At some point, he threw aside his bat and began to swing punch after punch, just like he did in his gang days when he had felt overwhelmed. Still screaming. Still crying.

By the time Scout had dissolved into a rocking, sobbing mess, the Soldier was long dead, with a gigantic pool of blood staining Scout’s shoes.

No one even knew where Scout was until a few hours later, when Spy heard a faint note of “Sexbomb” coming from Scout’s Walkman.

Scout had crawled into the shed’s framework, between the outer and inner wall, and was playing a specific verse over and over and over again, looking like he was on another plane of existence.

Spy immediately called for Medic, who had to lift Scout out by the underarms through a jagged hole in the side of the building. By then, the fight was over, so they could take him directly to the lab.

Medic’s Evaluation:

“I’m guessing zhis is your first mental breakdown?”

“Mental…doc, I ain’t crazy. Wait, you’re not goin’ to put me in a straight jacket, are ya?”

“If you’re not doing anyzhing later.”

Medic started to laugh, but quickly realized this might not be the time.

“No, Scout, everyvun has a mental breakdown at least vunce in their lives. It’s a…how do you say…a vake-up call of sorts. Vhen your body has no other options left.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“For zhe past few months, you health, both physical and mental, has been deteriorating. You eat less. You talk less. Your attacks are lackluster. You have bags under your eyes. You flinch vhen somevun yells for you. You stare off into space. Your routine, vhich usually has at least some changes, has become stringent, as if you can’t possibly expend any more energy into extra activities. You have avoided Demoman on zhe battlefield, even though you usually use him for cover.”

Medic flipped through his notes.

“I have pages and pages of your decline. However, as a scientist, I believe it is caused by zhe same source. And, though I usually respect my patient’s right to privacy vhen it comes to these sorts of matters, I believe you’ve been keeping something from me. Something that I should know as your general practitioner…your doctor.”

Scout shrugged, already shutting out the conversation.

Medic sighed.

“Maybe I tried to talk to you about zhis too soon. After all, you’ve just had a very sudden and exhausting episode. But…perhaps…”

Medic took a sheet of printer paper from his clipboard and a spare pen from his pocket.

“…zhere is an alternative.”

Scout was still unresponsive, but Medic continued.

“Zhere is a patient in my vaiting room vis a metal pole through the chest. It vill take me at least an hour to properly remove it, and a few minutes more to heal zhe area. Vhile I do zhat, vhy don’t you draw how you feel?”

Medic smiled.

“I know how much it grounds you.”

It wasn’t until Medic left that Scout actually picked up the pen, but he began drawing immediately.

For the first time in a while, he wasn’t trying to hide his strokes or scratch up the cleaner lines. No more stick figures. No more pretending.

Five minutes later, he was fully engrossed.

Medic started to walk in at one point, but, seeing how relaxed Scout was, decided to give him a few more minutes.

He deserved it.

[julek]

for love, for love, for love

for @writinglizards <3 love you, i hope you enjoy the filth. | READ ON AO3

rated E | 2.8K | warnings: A/B/O, intersex omegas, knotting

The sun was shining, birds were singing, and Jaskier was in love.

After years and years and some more years of pining and moping around miserably, Jaskier had finally gathered up the courage (and the liquor) to look into soft vanilla-eyes and utter the most important three words that had ever crossed his mind. And he’d watched as Geralt’s eyes had softened, melting into amber, and crinkled around the corners; felt the way his scent had gone sweet and the faint smell of lust had begun to fill his senses.

And they’d fallen into bed — after a murmured yes, I do too, and a sigh of relief, and sweet nothings whispered between long-coming kisses. And Jaskier had found himself pressed flat against the rickety inn bed as Geralt’s breaths came hot and heavy against his throat, their hips pressed together. They’d come just like that — legs entwined and sweaty kisses being pressed into each other’s skin.

Jaskier had expected Witchers to be different — Geralt had offhandedly mentioned some of the changes they’d had to go through in their adolescence, the way their skin stretched and their muscles tore apart just to be rebuilt anew. He was the only omega in his pack, he’d told him, and had therefore been trained harder, pushed into new limits just to be assured he would stand his ground in a fight. What a load of shit, Jaskier had thought, the image of a brown-haired Geralt chained to a bed, crying out in pain making his hackles rise.

“I want you to knot me,” Geralt had murmured against his chest, unprompted, that first night. Jaskier groaned.

“You— that— you can’t just say that to me, Geralt,” he’d huffed, frowning at Geralt’s self-satisfied smirk. “You’ve basically rendered me useless for the months to come, dear.”

Geralt shrugged. “I want you to,” he said simply. “I wanted you to, tonight.”

“Oh?” Jaskier made an inhuman effort to sit up straighter, propped against the wall with two-hundred pounds of satisfied Witcher on top of him. “I didn’t— I would never assume.”

Geralt pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat, burrowing closer into Jaskier’s warmth. “I know,” he murmured. Then, he took a deep breath. “It’s harder, for us,” he said. “To be… prepared.” He looked up at Jaskier. “Here,” he said, and took Jaskier’s hand, guiding it down to his crotch. Jaskier’s breath hitched as his fingers gently brushed against Geralt’s folds, but a tiny frown appeared on his brow when, instead of hot wetness, he was met with dry skin.

He looked at Geralt. “But did you—”

“I did,” Geralt reassured him. He closed his eyes. “Witchers— I can’t produce much slick. No matter how much I want to.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, his voice small.

Geralt took Jaskier’s hand back, began playing with his fingers. “I’m— I can’t carry. The Trials took that away, and they thought… they thought I wouldn’t be tempted to try, either, if it was harder for me to…” He trails off, gesturing at their bodies. “I’m broken. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier took him into his arms and hugged him tightly to his chest, his nose pressed against the crook of his neck, and felt Geralt’s shoulders release some of the tension they were holding. “I love you,” he murmured. “You. You’re not broken.” He kissed the top of his head. “I want you to feel good. To enjoy yourself.” He pulled back, meeting Geralt’s eyes. “You make me feel—” He spluttered, at a loss for eloquency, and it made Geralt laugh. “I don’t even have words for it. You make me feel incredible, love, and I only want the same for you.”

Geralt leaned his forehead against Jaskier’s. “Thank you,” he said, his voice small. “I do want your knot, though.”

Jaskier laughed, his thumb rubbing Geralt’s hip soothingly. “And I’d love to give it to you, any time, no questions asked,” he replied. “Is there something we could do?”

Geralt leaned back, sitting on Jaskier’s lap. They were touching everywhere, and Jaskier couldn’t get enough of it. “Oil could work. Takes too much time, though, and it— it doesn’t feel good.” He frowned. “We could… when my heat comes,” he said, awkwardly. “No way of telling when that would be, though.”

The sole mention of sharing Geralt’s heat made Jaskier’s Alpha preen. “You’d like that?”

Geralt nodded. “I would.” His shoulders slumped slightly. “I’m sorry it’s all I can offer you, Jask.”

Jaskier shook his head, his hands coming up to rest on either side of Geralt’s head. “You are enough,” he said. “All of you, always. Believe me” —he rocked his half-hard cock against Geralt’s thigh— “you will never leave me wanting. I want you because I love you, not because I want to fuck you.” Geralt smiled. “Which I do want to do, because you drive me insane— but I’d happily be by your side if all you ever wanted to do was kiss,” he said, and pressed a sweet kiss to Geralt’s lips to emphasize his point. “Because I love you.”

There was a faint blush on Geralt’s cheeks, and he smirked. “You’ve said.”

“And I hope you know I’ll never stop,” Jaskier replied, grinning. “I love you, I love you, I lo—”

Geralt had shut him up with a kiss of his own.

Seasons had passed, flowers had bloomed and empires had fallen, and they’d gotten creative. Geralt was insatiable, Jaskier had learned, and he’d discovered countless ways to make him come — on his fingers, on his mouth, rutting against his half-blown knot. Their scents were intermingled, now, sweet jasmine and olives entangled with leather and fresh bread.

“My heat is near,” Geralt whispered to him one night, pressed against his body as they were laying on their bedrolls.

“Yeah?” Jaskier replied, willing the thumping of his heart to slow down, even if Geralt would be able to tell anyway. “How near?”

Geralt rolled around to face him. “A week.”

Smiling softly, Jaskier pressed him closer, wrapping his arms around him and dropping a kiss on his temple. Tentatively, Geralt purred against him. “A week.”

As the days passed, Jaskier could feel Geralt grow more and more restless, pacing around their camp on nights when he had nothing else to do and kicking and thrashing in his sleep. His scent was changing, too, turning sweeter and heavier, making Jaskier dizzy whenever he caught a whiff of it.

He secured an inn room for them, his hard-earned coin going into the sticky hands of the innkeeper. Geralt had protested — had argued he could spend his heat in the forest, for crying out loud, but he’d taken one look at Jaskier and realized there would be no bargaining.

He hadn’t let Jaskier help with the nest, though. In fact, he’d made him leave the room — just outside, though, as he couldn’t stand it if Jaskier wandered too far — and had looked very sheepish as Jaskier had walked in again, his eyes falling on his arrangement. Jaskier had refrained from calling it adorable and shedding a tear or two, only because Geralt’s heat was hours away and he could not get his hands off him.

“I need you,” Geralt whined, already scrambling to get Jaskier’s clothes off. “Now.”

Not one to argue, Jaskier hurried to remove his doublet and chemise as Geralt hungrily tore at the knots on his trousers. Their mouths clashed against each other, hot and wet, as Geralt kissed him fiercely, Jaskier giving as good as he got. He got a hold of Geralt’s undershirt and took it off, tossing it on the floor, and his pants followed. He pulled back, and took a moment.

“What?” Geralt said, and Jaskier’s Alpha roared at the sight of him — fully nude and covered in a light sheen of sweat, the sunlight pouring from the closed window enveloping him in warmth, his flushed cheeks and tousled hair the picture of his dreams, his hard cocklet jutting against the cut of his abdomen, an inviting sight.

“Look at you,” Jaskier rumbled, his hands coming down to frame Geralt’s waist. Geralt let out a pitiful whine, embarrassed. “No, no— how could you be ashamed, when you look this beautiful.” He nosed at his throat, breathing in the sweet, ripe scent of him. “I want to eat you up.”

“Please.” Geralt pressed himself against Jaskier’s body, his cocklet rocking against Jaskier’s half-hard cock. “Please, Alpha.”

Any thread of sanity Jaskier had been holding onto snapped as he growled low in his throat in response, mouthing at Geralt’s shoulder, feeling the shudder that ran down his spine. “Geralt.”

“Yes, please, yes, Jaskier,” he panted. “Please.”

Pressing a tender kiss to his mouth, Jaskier led him to the bed. They fell against the soft, worn blankets, Geralt’s back pressed against them as his thighs winded around Jaskier’s waist.

“So eager,” he teased, but rocked down against Geralt. He pressed kisses to his mouth, his cheeks, his throat, any part of him he could reach as his fingers travelled down Geralt’s chest, down, down, down until he brushed against his cocklet, making him moan. “There you go,” he said, jerking him between his fingers. “Good boy.”

Geralt gasped at the praise, falling back against the mattress, boneless, as Jaskier pressed open-mouthed kisses down his body, following the invisible line his finger had drawn just a moment ago. “Such a good boy for me,” he murmured, reveling in the needy mewl it pulled out of his Witcher. “So beautiful.”

“Jask—” whatever Geralt wanted to say died in his throat as Jaskier licked a stripe up his cunt and his words dissolved into a punched-out moan. “F-fuck, Jask.”

Jaskier hummed against him, his tongue lapping gently against Geralt’s folds, the taste of his slick inundating his senses. He wasn’t dripping, not yet, but as Jaskier pressed his finger against Geralt’s opening, he could feel its warmth as it clenched around nothing. “So wet for me,” he panted, pressing a kiss to the curls just above his cocklet. “Such a pretty omega.”

“Jask,” Geralt moaned, his hand coming down to rest on Jaskier’s head as he continued lapping at his cunt, the filthy sounds of Geralt’s moans and his slick going straight to his cock where it hung heavy between his legs, neglected. Gently, Jaskier pushed his tongue against Geralt’s entrance, fucking him with shallow thrusts in a rhythm he knew drove Geralt crazy, delighted in the barely-there resistance he found as he pushed his tongue inside.

“I’m— Jask,” Geralt panted, his grip tight on Jaskier’s hair, “I’m gonna—”

Jaskier hummed against him, and that drove him over the edge. Geralt’s thighs pressed hard against Jaskier’s head, locking him in, his cunt clenching around nothing as his hips rocked forward against Jaskier’s tongue, little ah, ah, ah sounds being pulled out of him.

“So good,” Jaskier purred, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on Geralt’s thighs as his breaths evened out. Jaskier had always teased him for how useless he was rendered once he’d come, but the scent of his heat was thick and heavy around them, and he could see in Geralt’s eyes that he wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon. Good, his Alpha rumbled, let’s keep our pretty mate awake.

Jaskier shook his head, willing his possessive Alpha away. Geralt wasn’t his — as much as he’d wanted to — and he wasn’t going to be yet another knotheaded alpha who couldn’t keep his teeth to himself.

“Hey,” Geralt said softly, bringing him out of his reverie. He was looking at him with tenderness in his eyes. “C’mere.”

Jaskier went happily, his mouth finding Geralt’s in a slow, deep kiss. He swallowed Geralt’s moan as he tasted himself in his mouth, his fingers brushing lightly against Geralt’s soft stomach.

He grinned when he felt Geralt whine.

“Desperate already?”

In response, Geralt flipped them around, positioning himself above Jaskier as he ground down against him. His cocklet was rock-hard again, brushing against Jaskier’s leaking cock, making him moan.

“You feel so good, pup,” he managed, his hands resting on Geralt’s hips, not guiding, simply holding. “So— fuck, so perfect.”

Geralt bent down to kiss him, filthy and hard, and suddenly the movement stopped. Jaskier was about to complain when Geralt lifted himself up a bit, and Jaskier felt his dripping cunt grind against the base of his cock.

“Fuck, Geralt— fuck.” The pressure on his aching knot made his eyes roll back in his head with pleasure, and fuck— Geralt’s cunt was wet and soft against him as he moved up and down. They both moaned as, on a well-aimed thrust, the head of Jaskier’s cock caught on Geralt’s opening.

“Jaskier,” his Witcher panted, and there was a needy edge to his voice, “please.”

“What do you want?” Jaskier asked, out of breath himself, his hands running up and down Geralt’s sides as he rocked his length against Geralt.

Geralt whined. “You.”

“You’ll need— ah— to be more specific, dear.”

“I want— fuck,” Geralt shuddered. “I need your knot.”

Jaskier was a mere mortal, after all. In a swift movement, he pressed two of his fingers to Geralt’s sopping cunt, rubbing his entrance just to get him used to the feeling. He was used to it — had come on Jaskier’s fingers rubbing against him more than once — but Jaskier needed to be sure.

“C’mon, I’m good, please.” Jaskier pressed his fingers inside, punching out a groan out of his Witcher, who rocked down on his fingers as deep as he could go. “More,” he pleaded, and Jaskier could do nothing more than comply.

With three fingers deep inside of him, Geralt deemed himself ready. “Now, Jaskier, please.”

Jaskier used his slicked-up hand to smooth over his cock, and Geralt whined at the loss, chanting feverishly, “Please Alpha, please, I need your knot, want it so bad, I need—”

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, reaching for a kiss. Geralt melted against him, and Jaskier positioned him over his swollen cock. “Ready?”

Geralt clawed at his back. “Yes, yes, please—”

In one smooth motion, Jaskier entered him. It felt heavenly, the wet warmth enveloping him and swallowing him whole, the feeling of Geralt’s body against him, sweaty and wound-up and perfect, his needy mewls coming out of his chest unbidden. He reveled in it.

But then, Geralt started to move, and whatever ode Jaskier had been composing in his head flew out of the window, because this— this made Jaskier sob, for there was nothing like it.

Jaskier leaned back against the blankets and watched, enraptured, as Geralt bounced up and down on his cock, and it was filthy — the way his hair was messy and disheveled, his cheeks dark red and his eyes shut with pleasure — but it was also oh so tender, watching him chase his release with abandon.

“Fuck, Jask,” Geralt moaned, his hands on Jaskier’s chest as he picked up speed, Jaskier’s swollen knot catching on his entrance. Slick was dripping down his thighs. “Feel so good.”

Jaskier groaned, his orgasm building up inside him. “Geralt, dear— fucking Melitele— fuck, I’m not going to last.”

“Good,” Geralt purred, his pace never faltering. “Give me your knot, Alpha.”

And oh, how Jaskier wanted to. Still, “Are you sure?”

Geralt slowed down the slightest bit, and pressed a soft kiss to Jaskier’s lips. “I’m sure,” he said. “I love you.”

Jaskier pushed his knot inside as he came with a groan. All he could think of was Geralt, Geralt, Geralt, as he felt him clench down on his knot, milking him. “Fuck, Geralt—”

“Yes, yes, good Alpha,” Geralt chanted, reaching down between his legs and rubbing his leaking cocklet. “Jaskier—”

He kept coming, pumping Geralt full of it, and the thought made him shudder. “My sweet omega, so beautiful, so good to me—”

Geralt came with a cry, his hips stuttering and pushing Jaskier’s knot deeper inside him. It dragged a moan out of Jaskier, feeling the tie tug against him, and Geralt collapsed on top of him.

Gently, and with as much care as he could manage, Jaskier arranged them on their sides. They moaned as the movement tugged on Jaskier’s knot, and Jaskier pressed a kiss to Geralt’s temple, his arms wrapped around him.

“Geralt,” he whispered.

“Mmm.”

Jaskier laughed, dazed. “Love.”

“Mmmmmmm.”

Ah, useless after coming. “How do you feel?”

Geralt pressed back against him, clenching weakly around him. “Good,” he rasped. “So good.”

Jaskier hummed behind him, pressing soft kisses on his shoulder, his neck, his cheek. “I’m glad.”

Geralt turned his head, reaching for a kiss. Jaskier gave it to him. “I love you,” he whispered against his lips, and Jaskier felt his heart leap in his chest.

“I love you too,” he answered.

Geralt watched him through half-lidded eyes. It made Jaskier laugh. “Go to sleep, old man.”

Geralt frowned at him, then clenched hard, making Jaskier gasp.

“You—” Jaskier hissed, “are lucky you’re pretty.”

Geralt closed his eyes, smug, and nestled himself against Jaskier, kneading at the blankets.

“Sleep,” Jaskier murmured. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Geralt’s scent spiked with lust. “Gather your strength,” he mumbled sleepily. “You’ll need it.”

[sarcasmandships]

yellow | paul lahote

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

word count: 3.8k

angst, hurt + minimal comfort

trigger warnings: eating disorder, death, hospital/medical scene, vomit

paul imprinted on y/n nearly a year ago, it wasn’t something he ever wanted. in fact, he tried so hard to fight the imprint at first that he made himself ill.

paul was only just beginning to learn that he couldn’t fight off every problem he encountered. imprinting on y/n had been a harsh awakening for him, and he knew now that he couldn’t punch and kick his way through life.

that didn’t stop him trying though, he stared at the hole he’d just created in the dry wall of his bedroom. he was going to have to buy another poster.

“paul, are you still there?” y/n’s voice was muffled through the phone which lay face down on his bed, “i heard a bang.”

and paul could hear her concern so he snatched the phone and held it up to his ear, “yeah i’m still here don’t worry,” he sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“okay...” she said uncertainly, “are you alright?”

he was clenching his fists, his jaw, and every other muscle in his body, “yeah, yeah i’m fine,” he said, trying to maintain a light and airy tone as much as possible but the words just came out flat, “i should be asking if you’re okay.”

y/n took several minutes to answer, “you don’t need to worry about me paul.”

if only she knew that his entire life now revolved around worrying about her. about wanting to protect her, from the leeches, from every creep and asshole in this town, from every bout of stress or sadness.

“i never do anything else,” he tried to say jokingly, but his voice broke mid-way through the sentence and he punched his mattress.

“look paul...” he could hear her frowning through the phone as she sighed, “i gotta go to my appointment now but I’ll see you later for the bonfire, yeah?”

tears were burning in paul’s eyes as he croaked out a response, “yeah, do you need me to pick you up?”

“it’s all good, i’m going to emily’s first to give her a hand with the food so i’ll go down with her.”

“yeah, sounds great,” he said flatly, “i’ll see you there then.”

“bye paul,” she whispered and hung up the phone.

he launched the phone at the wall, and it shattered into chunks of useless plastic. he held his head in his hands and before he knew it, his whole body was racked with dry sobs.

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

he grabbed a pair of beat-up trainers from under his bed and pulled them on. he thundered downstairs and out the front door, ignoring the protests of his drunken father.

paul ran.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul,’ y/n would tease him.

maybe not, but he couldn’t do anything else because she wouldn’t fucking let him. y/n had always been stubborn but in the last few months she’d become increasingly closed off and defensive. if paul made the slightest attempt to ‘stick his nose where it didn’t belong’ then she’d shut him out for weeks on end.

being apart from her was agonising.

he used to think sam and jared were exaggerating when they talked about the pain of not seeing their imprints. but now he knew it was all too real and he couldn’t stand it, so paul had learned to bite his tongue so she wouldn’t give him the silent treatment.

that was something that did not come easy to him, but it was easier than not seeing her, not talking to her, not being close to her.

paul knew on some level it was selfish to let y/n play out her fantasises and pretend that everything was fine, he knew it was wrong for indulging her. but whenever he tried to confront her, to help her, then she would shut him out again and he couldn’t bare that.

it was raining heavily now, the hail stones battered off his exposed skin as he dove out of sight behind the tree line.

staying calm was not something paul was good at, he had to spend so much of his energy focusing on blocking out his anger and sadness and pain and anguish just to make sure he didn’t shift at an inappropriate moment.

but right now, he could smash through that blockade and let every emotion flood through his body as his flesh ripped and his bones snapped, and he shed his human form to leave a large, grey wolf in his place.

paul relished in the release, it felt good to finally let go of every negative emotion he was holding onto and embrace the wolf inside of him. he ran through the trees, taking in the smell of the wet earth and the salty sea air.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

y/n told him that once after a particularly explosive fight he’d had with his father. they sat on the beach, and she stroked his hair as he laid with his head on her lap. he told her he was going to leave home, she pointed out he had no money, he told her that he’d live in the streets if he had to.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’ she had said, her fingers entangled in his hair.

but y/n didn’t seem to adopt that mentality when it came to her own problems, and paul’s desire to protect her made her problems, his problems. and now he had an overwhelming number of problems that everyone kept telling him he couldn’t run away from, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

he kicked up soil and dead leaves behind him as he ran through the woods, the hailstones has subsided to a light drizzle which still managed to soak his fur. he paused to shake the water off him when he hear someone else’s voice in his head, someone else had shifted.

“hey paul.”

“hey jake.”

paul tried to shut off his inner monologue so that jacob couldn’t hear what he was thinking, he thought he was doing an alright job until-

“rough day, huh?”

paul growled.

“yeah i guess, y/n’s seeing her therapist right now....”

“is she getting better?”

paul could sense the concern in jacob’s thoughts but this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have right now.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

well, what the fuck else was he supposed to do? everyone kept telling him that he couldn’t run away but no one was offering any alternative solutions.

it was always ‘calm down, paul.’

‘you can’t fight your way out of everything, paul.’

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’

well why the fuck not?

no one seemed to understand that he wasn’t running for his own sake but for everyone else’s. and most importantly, for y/n’s. it was excruciatingly difficult to keep those thoughts to himself and out of jacob’s mind, so he began running through the trees again to provide some kind of distraction.

“yeah, she’s going over to emily’s first to help out so i’m meeting her there.”

“do you think you might finally tell her tonight? it’s been nearly a year and she still has no idea....”

“she can’t handle it; she’s got enough going o,n i can’t burden her with all of this too.”

that was only part of it. paul was worried about how y/n would take the news that he, and all his friends were shapeshifting wolves that existed to protect the town from vampires. and even more concerning, how would she take the news that he had imprinted on her? y/n was too fragile right now, he had to protect her even if that meant keeping the truth from her.

but beyond that, he was worried that she wouldn’t accept him. paul had a crippling fear of rejection at the best of times, but the prospect of his own imprint rejecting him was unimaginable.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

maybe not forever, but for right now he was going to sprint as fast as he could.

***

the blazing bonfire crackled just meters in front of them and yet y/n was still shivering; paul wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close into his chest. she nuzzled into him and paul was filled with a burst of euphoria at their closeness. her eyes were barely open as she leaned into him, he tightened his grip on her frozen frame.

“are you okay?” he mumbled into her hair, it smelled like lavender.

she nodded slowly, “yeah, i’m just tired, today was pretty rough.”

paul frowned. he wished that they weren’t surrounded by so many people, they were sat a little away from the rest of the group, but they didn’t have the privacy he would’ve liked.

“do you want to talk about it?”

y/n sniffled, when paul looked down at her he saw tears slowly running down her cheeks and his heart shattered.

he pulled her in closer and wiped away the tears, “hey, hey what’s wrong?”

y/n just shook her head, “i don’t want to talk about it.”

‘you can’t run away from your problems, y/n’ he wanted to say.

“are you sure?” he asked hesitantly, desperately wanting to help but also not wanting her to clam up again.

she looked away from him; the glare from the roaring bonfire reflected in her glassy eyes. paul enveloped one of her cold, bony hand in his and squeezed it gently but her frown persisted. there was a hollowness in his chest as he stared at her miserable expression; paul knew he couldn’t punch away anyone’s problems but as it turns out, holding hands is just as ineffective.

“dr charles wants me to go to inpatient treatment,” she said bluntly, “he says my physical health is deteriorating too much.”

something twisted in his gut.

“but i thought you were…getting better?” he said cautiously.

paul knew that was a lie.

y/n knew that was a lie, but she was so good at pretending otherwise she had everyone convinced that she was getting better. everyone but him, and he didn’t want her to know that she wasn’t fooling him with the ‘i’m eating again, i’m doing great’ routine she had become so well-versed in.

“well, i’m not better,” she snapped, pushing paul off her as she leapt to her feet.

superhuman hearing or otherwise, everyone else around the bonfire heard y/n’s exclamation, and their heads snapped over to stare between her and paul. emily began to stand up but paul waved her off and she sat back down next to sam. he approached y/n slowly, tears continued to stream down her face but when he moved to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she pushed him away.

he held up his hands, “okay, okay – i won’t touch you, why don’t we go somewhere quiet to talk-”

“no,” she snapped, “i don’t want to talk paul, all i ever do is fucking talk about my feelings and as long as i say the right things then everyone thinks i’m better, but i’m not fucking better, okay?”

“i know,” he roared back, “i know you’re not better, in fact you’re getting worse. i watch you get sicker every single day, i watch you withering away, i watch you dying and there is nothing that i can do because you won’t let me.”

y/n bit her lip and looked away from him.

tears were burning in paul’s eyes, “i can’t make you better, i can’t make you eat, i can’t look after you and it’s killing me.”

“i never asked you to look after me,” she screamed back, tears flowing freely down her face now, “i don’t know why you think it’s your job to keep me alive but it isn’t-”

“yes, it is!”

paul was shaking now, he was trying to hold onto his humanity with every fibre of his being, but the pain and anger was overwhelming. he was reaching his breaking point. he tried to focus on y/n; she was his anchor and usually the thought of her, focusing on the sound of her heartbeat was enough to calm him down. but usually, she wasn’t the focus is his anger, and now when he looked at her all he saw was how frail and weak she looked.

she was dying and she wouldn’t let him help her.

everyone was staring now; paul didn’t want to be on this beach anymore, he couldn’t deal with this right now. it was all too much; his head was spinning and his limbs were trembling.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam leapt to his feet, ready to jump in and tackle paul to the ground as he lurched towards y/n. but instead of shifting and attacking her, he grabbed her hand and led her away from the bonfire and the rest of the pack.

“paul what are you doing?” y/n asked through chattering teeth.

she didn’t try to fight him off but paul knew this was more likely a sign of her lack of energy, and not her willingness to go with him. they were at the edge of the beach now, where the sand bordered with the rough concrete path that led back towards the heart of la push. paul stopped in his tracks and turned to face y/n as he heard her breathing become increasingly shallow.

he studied her intently, emaciated body, pale lips, hollow cheeks. he could hear her heart beating slowly and irregularly inside her chest, he could see her struggling to catch a breath. despite her weakened body she stared back at him, with a clenched jaw and arms crossed across her chest.

“you can’t run away from your problems, y/n,” he finally said.

she snorted, “i’m not you, paul.”

“no, but you’re my impr-” he stopped himself before he revealed too much and ran a hand through his hair, “you’re my best friend y/n i-”

“no, jared is your best friend,” she said pointedly.

“for god’s sake can you stop being difficult for two damn seconds?” he snapped.

she let out a shrill laugh, “right sorry, i forget i’m just an inconvenience to everyone around here, i should just go.”

paul grabbed her hand before she could turn away from him. he towered over her, but when their eyes met it was like nothing else mattered. in every second of his existence, paul was acutely aware that gravity and the laws of nature didn’t bind him to the earth; she did. and when she looked into his eyes like that it only reminded him that she was his everything, before paul knew it, his anger was melting away and there was nothing but pure euphoria flowing through his body.

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself. but in that moment, nothing else mattered except for the fact that y/n was standing chest to chest with him, and she was staring into his eyes. nothing else mattered; not her anger towards him, her disease, his feelings of helplessness, his fear of rejection.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“do you believe in soulmates, y/n?” he asked breathily.

“what?” she asked; her breath billowed out of her chapped lips and hung visibly in the cool september air, thick, like cigarette smoke.

he took a deep breath; it was now or never.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“y/n, there’s something i have to tell you-”

she was the first to break eye contact with him, her pupils dilated suddenly, and her eyes fluttered shut. she managed to grip onto his bicep lightly as she collapsed, but her hand turned limp and rolled gently onto the sand as she lay unconscious in his arms.

***

“clear!” carlisle hollered.

paul reluctantly dropped y/n’s hand as carlisle pressed the paddles to her chest and sent two hundred volts of electricity searing through her lifeless body.

he frowned at the consistent flatline on the monitor, “push ten of epi and charge again,” he ordered the nurse, resuming chest compressions as he waited for the next round of medication to be administered.

paul grabbed her hand again while he had the chance, she was already turning cold. the blood had drained from her face, and paul couldn’t focus on her heartbeat to calm him because she no longer had one.

“clear!”

they repeated the routine they had been performing for the last several minutes; paul let go of her hand, carlisle shocked her, the flatline remained.

the nurse shook her head, “asystole,” she said flatly.

“what does that mean?” paul asked frantically, he looked between carlisle and y/n, “why aren’t you helping her?”

carlisle retrieved a neuro torch from the pocket of his lab coat, peeling back y/n’s eyelids he shone the light over each of her eyes, “pupil’s are fixed and dilated,” he said to the nurse.

“why are you stopping? fix her!” paul wailed.

“i’m sorry paul, there’s nothing else we can do for her,” he said softly, “time of death, 19.08.”

the nurse nodded and made a note on y/n’s chart before exiting the trauma room, leaving just paul, sam, and carlisle in the room with y/n’s lifeless body.

paul didn’t cry, or scream, or phase into a giant wolf. he stood by y/n’s bedside, clutching her hand in his and staring straight ahead at the monitor she was attached to. it continued to let out a continuous, monotone beep. sam, who was just waiting for paul to explode, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder; paul didn’t have the energy to push him away.

“bring her back,” he croaked.

carlisle looked between paul and sam, “i am very sorry for your loss, paul, but there is nothing else i can do, she’s gone-”

“well bring her back!” he roared, falling to his knees as he continued to clutch y/n’s hand, “you fix her, you bring her back, you change her i don’t care-”

“you know i can’t do that-”

“yes, you can. you’ve done it before, change her i don’t care if she’s a vampire just bring her back,” he sobbed.

“paul, we can’t violate the treaty,” sam barked.

“i don’t give a fuck about the treaty,” he turned his head to snarl at sam, “bring her back right now doc or i swear to god i will-”

“i am very sorry paul, but even if i wanted to change her i couldn’t, it’s too late. there are some things even venom can’t fix, even if i tried the venom wouldn’t be able to circulate her body without a heartbeat.”

paul rose from his knees and dropped y/n’s hand. he was robotic as he began chest compressions, despite protests from carlisle. sam tried to pull paul’s arms away from y/n, but he shoved him off roughly and continued to rhythmically administer cpr.

“paul, you need to stop,” carlisle said, “she’s gone – that isn’t going to help her.”

he ignored him.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul’.

he wasn’t running anymore.

for once in his life paul was facing his problem head on.

he wasn’t running anymore.

he was doing what everyone always wanted, and yet sam and carlisle were trying to stop him.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam and carlisle winced as there was an audible crack.

“you’re breaking her ribs, paul,” carlisle said, attempting to remove paul’s hands from y/n’s body but he flinched away from the vampire’s icy touch.

carlisle looked at sam pleadingly; sam nodded briefly at him before reaching forward and attempting to drag paul away from y/n’s body. he resisted, struggling against sam’s grip as he maintained the rhythmic compressions. his vision blurred in front of him, refusing to take on the scene before him.

he never got a chance to tell her about the imprint.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

she never regained consciousness after she collapsed.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

he never got to say goodbye.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

he never got to tell her he loved her.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

sam was dragging him backwards, away from y/n; his rigid grip kept paul’s arms pinned to his sides and stopped him from reaching out to cling to y/n.

paul couldn’t breathe.

everything was spinning.

the harsh, fluorescent hospital lights burned his watery eyes; he wanted nothing more than to sink down into darkness till he could awake from this nightmare.

y/n couldn’t be dead.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“someone will need to contact her family, they will need to make arrangements,” carlisle commented quietly, “ i will call them myself if you give me the number.”

“this is my fault,” paul choked out.

“what?”

“it’s my fault,” his voice caught in his throat, “i let her slowly kill herself because i didn’t want her shut me out.”

“y/n was sick for a long time paul-” carlisle began.

“and i could’ve fixed her, but i was too selfish to let her go and now she’s gone forever.”

his knuckles turned white as he gripped the metal pole that ran along the side of y/n’s bed, he couldn’t bring himself to look at her body.

sam placed a hand on his shoulder, “there’s nothing you could’ve done paul, you already did everything you could for her - you can’t love someone back together.”

“what if it was emily?” paul snarled, “would you be so calm and condescending if it was your imprint lying dead in front of you?”

paul’s heart pounded in his chest, he was still unable to look at her. he wanted to remember her alive and breathing, not like this.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

“if you’ll excuse me, i should get started on some paperwork,” carlisle said quietly.

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

paul lahote never wanted to imprint on anyone, but especially not on the one girl he couldn’t seem to protect, not even from herself.

“c’mon paul, you should get out of here.”

‘you can’t run away from your problems, paul.’

his eyes flickered up, and the sight of y/n’s corpse sent acidic vomit bubbling up his throat and into his mouth. he turned sharply on his heel and choked out his stomach contents into a bin in the corner.

after he composed himself paul did what he did best.

he ran.

[diamond-coral]

The Heist (part 3/finale)

Steve x Reader

Chapter summary: Captain’s plan worked. Now you’re in for a lot of trouble after trying to break into his apartment. He’ll have you. Just like he wanted.

Warnings: 18+, explicit sex, dark, rape/non-con, forced orgasm, praise and degradation kink, kidnapping, mentions of strip club, mentioned anal, swearing, mild violence, slight Stockholm

“You wanna be treated like a whore?” he seethed. “Fine. I’ll treat you like a whore.”

Steve wrenched you from the wall and let you fly back toward his bed, your feet tripping over themselves as well as the chain attached to the cuff secured around your ankle before you finally tumbled onto the mattress. Your breathing was heavy as you glared back at his cerulean eyes which were narrowed, daring you to try anything.

And you did. Because fuck if you weren’t going down without a fight.

You darted out to the right, arm reaching out to take grip of the lamp on his nightstand. You grabbed hold of it and pivoted your body around as your arm flung out toward his head. Steve simply intercepted the hit with a firm grasp, and you gritted your teeth as the two of you began an aggressive tug of war for the lamp.

“Stop. This. Now,” Steve scolded as if you were a child before giving a sharp tug, the lamp slipping out of your hand.

“No thanks.” You grinned, catching him off guard, before you grabbed both his shoulders as support and kneed him in the groin. Hard.

Steve let out a pained groan. He dropped the lamp, and you caught it by the handle before using all your strength to swing the base against his head like a baseball bat. He stumbled backwards while his hand reached up near his temple. He pulled it back and inspected the blood. You remained frozen, having hoped that the blow would have at least knocked him out. His broad figure compromised your escape route to the door of his bedroom, so running was not an option.

“We need to fix this fuckin’ attitude of yours,” he grumbled, and while you were lost in your predicament of all escape routes being impossible, he snatched the lamp, this time breaking it in half like a toothpick before tossing both ends over his shoulder to the opposite side of the room. “I wanted a kind and docile housewife. Not some ungrateful bitch.” 

He practically pounced on you, and you fought, pushing against his brick wall of body, before relenting with the knowledge he was far too strong for you.

“Well you’ve got the wrong person, buddy-pal,” you quipped, but your voice trembled in your compromised position..

“No. I don’t. Because I’ve already seen her, you, at the club. And I don’t know why the hell you gotta give me some attitude when I’m trying to save you from the shitshow of a life you’re livin’. Maybe you’re just scared. Scared of letting someone take care of you when you’ve been fighting for yourself for so long, so you put on the unappreciative bitchy exterior.” 

Was this man serious? How delusional did he have to be to think all of that after one encounter?

“Well guess what,” he whispered, face so close to you that his breath fanned over you. “I’ll fucking rip it apart. I’ll break you down. Shatter this pathetic wall you have up until I get back the girl at the club. Might take a couple good fuckings, but I’ll finally get it out of you.” His thumb stroked your cheek, brushing away the tears that had shed at his admissions. “Aww, baby, don’t cry,” he cooed. “This is for the best.”

You let out a small whimper, another round of tears flowing, at the sound of his belt unbuckling and fly coming undone. 

You began pounding against his chest and begged him not to.

You wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Easily holding you down, Steve let out a stuttered moan as he entered you slowly. You begging turned into sounds of agony as he stretched you out and filled you like no other had before. 

“I wanted our first time time to be special. Slow and loving,” he confessed as he stilled inside of you. He slowly pulled out before slamming his hips back in and muffling your shriek with a large hand. “Gotta say, this is still pretty special though. Might just love those big watery doe eyes lookin’ at me a little more than that cute smile of yours. You just look so pretty, all wrecked and crying for me, doll.” He moved his hand slightly aside to lick a strip of your tear stained cheek, letting out a hum of approval.

You thrashed under him, hands lashing out until one of his own came to wrangle both wrists above your head, so you resorted to bucking your hips in hopes of throwing him off. It was hopeless. 

But you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

The hand covering your mouth moved down to hold you hip down in a bruising grip. He just rutted into you harder and faster in response to your outburst.

You couldn’t bring yourself to make a noise. The searing of your walls was slowly melting into pleasure. You feared accidentally letting a moan slip and alerting Steve to your pleasure.

But Steve could tell how you enjoyed it. Although tears flowed freely from your eyes, your pussy squelched, the sound blending in with the clapping of skin each time he drove into you.

“Told you. I’d fuck you. Like a whore,” He managed to get out between thrusts. “And you fuckin’ love it too.” He let out a dark chuckle. “God you’re such a slut.”

You whined as he pulled out when he flipped you over, but he made up for it by beginning to drill into you harder than before. With every brutal thrust, his cock glided against your g-spot before the tip punched against your cervix, and your eyes rolled back into your head.

Steve roped your hair around his palm and yanked your head back. Your back arched painfully to accommodate.

“Tell me you’re a slut. Tell me your my slut. Only mine. Only for me. Not that stupid fuckin’ club. Mine.”

“N-no. No,” you stuttered, barely being able to form words. You wouldn’t let him have his victory. You wouldn’t give it to him and bend to him.

Because you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

He once again yanked your hair, this time using the momentum to bring your body flush against him. His other arm came to wrap around your waist, and he secured your back to him, never once letting up on fucking you. The new angle made your body light on fire, and a moan escaped past your lips.

“Say it. Say you’re my slut and I’ll let you cum.”

You wouldn’t. You still had some dignity left. You’d be strong. You’d-

“Oh fuck, I’m your slut. Please let me cum. Please, please, I need it so bad. I’m your fucking slut! Only yours Steve!” you cry out. Humility and pleasure both burned your body.

“Atta girl,” he grunted, quickening his pace. “Cum now. Cum all over my cock.”

You did just that. Your cunt clenched around his cock while you gushed around him. Pleasure constricted around your entire body like fire. 

“Good little whore. All mine,” Steve chanted, but you barely heard him. All you could think about was Steve and his cock. You shattered. Your mind, your body, your will, all shattered to a million pieces.

________________________________________________________________

You sigh, smoothing down the flowy pink skirt that stopped right about your knees. That was all six months ago but it felt like years. Steve made good on his word. Here you were, the good little docile housewife, waiting for him to return home from a mission that had taken him three days, a home cooked meal sitting on the table. Waiting to be devoured by the ravenous man who would return. Just like you.

You didn’t even attempt to escape this time. The first time you had managed to shatter the living room window with a lamp (ironic, huh?) while Steve was in the bathroom. You had made it down the fire escape before he intercepted you in the alley and dragged you quietly back to the apartment with a gun concealed between your bodies. When you got inside, Steve brutally took your virgin asshole. The second time, you tried the same thing, but Steve caught you before you even stepped foot out the window. After replacing the glass with a new bulletproof material from S.H.I.E.L.D., he starved you for five days, only allowing you water. He still made you cook for him though. It was a cruel joke to him, watching you make him a meal while your stomach was about to eat itself. He’d fuck you hard after, and your body felt like it’d break in half.

The third time was three months after that. You’d managed to gain his trust enough to let him take you for a walk in the park, and after a knee to the groin, you took off and hid yourself in a crowd of people. It wouldn’t be a good image for Captain America to be hunting down an innocent girl on the streets of New York. You managed to be away from him for almost 24 hours, but you couldn’t go to the police. After telling them you were a stripper that broke into Captain America’s apartment, you highly doubt they’d believe the rest of your story.

You were in the grocery store with some stolen cash when Bucky Barnes finally caught you. He muttered a couple words about how pretty Bella was and how he’d hate to put a bullet through her pretty head, and you followed him like a dog back to Steve’s building. Steve, as a thank you to Bucky and a punishment for you, let Bucky fuck you for hours till you passed out with his metal hand around your neck.

You smile to yourself, hoping Steve would be happy that you remained compliant and would be there to greet him as he returned home.

The sound of a lock turning snaps you out of your thought, and your head turns to the door as Steve enters.

“Sweetheart!” you say as you throw yourself on him, hands intertwined behind his neck.

“Hi honey,” he greets, smiling down at you, taking in the sight before he leans down to give you a peck on your painted red lips. You almost frown at your eagerness to return it. Almost. But your interest is directed toward Steve as he reaches into a paper shopping bag. “Got you a little something. Know how much you love to paint.” 

He pulls out a set of brushes, showing them to you, before handing you the entire bag. You look inside and gasp. So many colors and canvases. This was your life before he had trapped you, and here he was, giving you a piece of it back.

“Steve, I don’t even know how to thank you,” you begin. “I-”

Steve cuts you off with a deep kiss.

“Anything for my girl. Besides I figured you could use some practice.”

“For what?” you ask.

“Well, I bought us a house!” he announces, grinning. “That implant of yours will be wearing off in a couple months, and I’d love for you to paint a mural in the nursery. For our baby.”

[bokettochild]

Touch and Go

Whumptober Day 6: Touch-Starved

Is this late? yes.

Is this proofread? No.

But I had Feelings about this one, so please excuse the shameless hurt/comfort and Legend fluff at the end, and let me project my lonely ass onto my favorite character again.

I hope y'all enjoy! Consider this a break from the unresolved whump of the last few prompts.

There are days when Legend really hates being alive.

Today's one of those days. Today's one of those horrid days when everything is cold and everything is bitter and all he can do is snap when Wind chatters at his side. All he can do is bark out something harsh and cruel that makes the sailor avert dark eyes and slowly move away from him.

The kid has spirit, he'll say that at least. Wind doesn't blubber up and cry about it, just looks hurt and walks away, shoulder's stiffening as the kid wanders over to stand next to Warriors instead, thin arms wrapping tight around the sailor's chest as the kid hugs himself, only relaxing slightly when Wars buries his hand in the kid's hair and gives the golden locks a gentle tussle. The kid's lips twitch as he stares up at Wars with his big dark eyes, rain pattering over his face as the captain throws the end of his scarf over the kid's head.

Legend pulls his own cloak closer and purposefully ignores the exchange as he continues to slosh through the mud.

They've come to Sky's world and while the area isn't one that the Chosen Hero recognizes immediately, Wild had climbed a tree a while back (regardless of the clouds that threaten lightning or the rain that makes the bark slippery) and called out the direction of what he was certain was a village. At any other time, Wind would climb up after the champion with his telescope to confirm, but Time isn't willing to take that risk and instead called Wild down back to them.

The champion trudges on ahead, laughing light and free as rain soaks through log golden hair and Twilight fusses and scolds like a worried mother cuckoo, trying to make the champion pull up the hood of his cloak while the rancher's own furry hood bobs low enough to cover his eyes, making Wild only laugh harder. The hood has ears, he notes with a scoff, and Twilight doesn't even have the decency to look embarrassed at that, instead punching Warriors' shoulder when the man points it out, a toothy grin on the rancher's face while the captain shoots him a hurt look, rubbing his bruised shoulder with something like a pout.

Time's own soft chuckles mix with the light patter of rain, and Legend takes a moment to consider why the man isn't earing a cloak, only to realize that Hyrule isn't either, and that his protege is darting about in the rain with a bright smile that stretches all the way to his slowly flapping ears, the kid practically flittering about Time and giggling as the cold and wet rain dribbles through his curls and sings against their leader's armor.

Legend huffs, wrapping his own cloak tight about himself. Fine, let the other's catch cold for their foolishness. Let Time be sneezing his obnoxiously loud sneezes and Hyrule low himself back with the force of his own. Let Wild be red in the face and nasally for the next week, it's their own fault for being such blasted idiots! He'll just wear his wool cloak, thank you very much! He'll tuck it close and wrap it around and around and-

Another cold breeze makes Wind giggle as it swipes through the sailor's curls and send Warriors huffing out complaints. Wild laughs louder as Twilight's hood is pushed back, dampening the rancher's dark hair as the man sighs in defeat. Four giggles from where they're hiding with Sky under the sailcloth, the fabric held over their heads like an umbrella as they walk, both red in the face from the cold but dry save for the feet that squelch through the mud.

Legend only shivers and pulls his cape closer. How is this funny to them? How is rain nice enough to play in or laugh or try and sing, like Time is doing? Rain is cold and miserable and wet, and he's shivering as he pulls on his hood with a firm tug. It's too cold, and too wet and the only thing he really wants is to find somewhere where he can just collapse into the corner and sit. He's not asking for one of Uncle's old oversized tunics, or a warm fire, or even a mug of Ravio's cocoa, all he wants is to sit down and just... be.

It's dark out here and it's dark inside and it's dark everywhere and all he wants is to sit in the darkness and let himself flop against whatever happens to be available and just sit, mind blank, body still, nothing and no one needing him and nothing and no one to disturb him.

"Lights ahead!" Four calls back to them with a bright grin, red cheeks nearly glowing as their eyes sparkle the same color, and beside the smithy Sky perks up, ears twitching slightly as a grin break across his face. "It's the village!"

In seconds Sky has scooped Four up and started jogging towards the lighted houses before them, ignoring as the smithy laughs out warnings about asthma and slippery paths, and Legend can only shake his head slowly with a sigh as the others follow suit, even Time. Honestly, where are they getting this much energy?

When they reach the settlement it's to find Sky and Four both covered in mud and Sun and Sky's big red-head friend waiting at the door of the common house with towels and hearty laughter.

there's still a lot to be done here to make a proper village, but for the time being those who are constructing it have settled in a large common house that Sky's told them will one day be a festival and meeting hall. "Maybe even a school," the Chosen Hero had grinned. There are mostly only a few villagers who rotate out to help with construction in turns, but on the rare visit the heroes have had here, Sun and- Goose? Gross? Whatever the heck the man's name was- are always there to greet them with wide smiles and exuberant displays of affection for their best friend.

Even now, Sky is tucked under the red-heads arm, playfully protesting the fist that rubs over the knight's head, even as Four sits atop the big man's other shoulder, laughing and swinging their feet gently at the sight of their predecessor getting a noogie.

Legend sweeps past the chaos with a sigh, briefly accepting the towel Sun offer to him with a tender smile. He doesn't even bother shedding his boots, no matter how touchy his is about it in his own home, and instead flops down in the only place that doesn't seem to be occupied and gives his hair and face a quick rub with the towel before laying it aside and leaning back against the wall.

Cheery voces and laughter sound around him, but it's like a dark cloud hangs over him as he wraps his arms tight around his chest and curls up.

Even next to the roaring fire, he's cold. It's like his bones are cold, even as sweat starts to bead at his brow, and a shiver still manages to travel through him as one of the former Skyloftians stokes the roaring flames.

He's not sick, he's been wrapped to tight in warm clothes recently to have gotten a cold or something, and anything contagious hasn't been run into as they dart across worlds after the shadow. Still, he's cold, and almost hollow feeling as he presses his hands to his ears to try and block out Wind's laughter. The sound hurts, even though he doesn’t know why. His head isn’t pounding but his chest aches and throbs around nothing at the sound. His throat is tight and his bones continue to ache miserably as he finally pulls his discarded towel over his head and ears in a last-ditch attempt to stop all the noise coming over to him.

Once, he’d worried about this sort of thing. He’d panicked when he stopped being able to feel properly warm and when his bones never quite settled. Now, sitting beside the biggest freaking fire he’s ever seen outside of a festival, he accepts the chill in his bones with an exhaustion that settled in ages ago.

Violet eyes flitter shut slowly as he tries to focus on the crackle of flames, a sound he can always rely on to help him settle himself. He has to drop the towel, but the others have dulled their chatter to a quiet murmur as something clatters and sheet shuffle over the fresh wooden floor. There's the occasional laugh from one of the others, but it’s nothing he can’t handle as he wraps his damp cloak closer around him.

He could ignore it. He could get up and join the others and just ignore the cold empty hollow inside of him, but today he just wants to be. He doesn’t want to fight it, and he doesn’t want to bother using energy to ignore it. The cold cave in his chest is there and it’s not going away so he may as well accept it and t himself just drift along in the amid the cheer of the evening.

The others seem keen on leaving him alone, letting him brood in silence as Wild darts over briefly with a warm smile and an even warmer bowl of seasoned rice. The kid called this stuff pudding, but there’s nothing smooth and creamy about it. It’s good though, and he accepts the bowl with his usual nod of thanks before Wild is darting back to the others where they sit around a rough wooden long table. His brothers are all laughing and chatting with the big Goose man, and only Sun spares him a curious glance before her attention is swept up by Hyrule, who presents her with something that makes the woman blush and beam as she wraps the traveler in a warm hug.

Pain pangs through his chest as the vet lowers his bowl. He’s not... he’s not hungry he finds, staring down at the sweet and seasoned rice with apathy. He’s not really upset about not being hungry, not surprised either, just... it is what it is.

Gnarled fingers reach up and he twines a lock of pink hair through his fingers, violet gaze darting up to the table across the room as the others continue their ceaseless chatter. No one looks at him, and it draws a sigh of relief from him as he loosens up a bit.

He’s not proud of how he handles the cold, not of how he fills the emptiness enough that it stops aching. It’s embarrassing really, but he’d rather handle it himself than have to get attached to having someone else ease the ache for him.

Long ears droop slightly as he runs his nails over their shells, rubbing behind his own ears like a goddess darned weirdo and letting his other hand brush through his hair again. It’s grown some, catching on his shoulders when he turns his head and he debates letting it grow out long again for a moment. It would be more convenient when switching with Fable to not have to put on a wig, but he’s not overly keen on having to take care of the long tresses again and long hair does get so easily tangled.

There’s a burst of laughter from the table again, and while he glances up quickly, hands drawing away for a moment he finds relief in the fact that the others are all too busy teasing the captain for one thing or another to bother looking over at him. Relief blossoms in his chest as he rubs his own ears again.

It’s stupid, he knows it, but being touched, being close to someone is the only way to make this never-ending emptiness fill for a little bit, and if he just ignores it, it gets more and more unbearable. Once, Fable had thought he’d been cursed, he’d been so stiff and shivery, and it didn’t help that the bags under his eyes had grown dark enough that he looked like he’d been in a brawl. He’d explained he was just tired, restless after returning from the sea and unable to sleep properly without fear of dreaming. But sleep was the only relief from being utterly and completely empty, so he was caught in flux, perpetually tired and cold and both wishing for sleep and doing all in his power to avoid it.

Fable had dragged him up to her room and nestled them both into her big bed, her favorite fuzzy pink blanket tucked up so tightly around him that he couldn’t even squirm free as she’d wrapped him a hug and started to try and sing. It was horrible, and he’d very nearly cried at his sister’s off-key screeching right in his ear, but she’d promised to be quiet, grinning like a gremlin, if only he would lay still. He had, and the next thing he knew it was lunchtime the next day and Fable was laughing her ass off because he apparently both drooled and talked in his sleep.

He wishes Fable was here now. She’s the only one Hylia can’t rip away from him, because she's the freaking princess and needs to rule Hyrule one day. She’s safe, she won’t disappear or die before her time or leave like everyone else. She’s the only constant he can rely on, and more than anything he wants to feel small beside her as she teases him and plays with his pink hair and jokes about bunnies and cherries and Ravio and a dozen other things that make him scowl usually but only provide a constant stream of chatter when he’s too tired to care anymore.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t remember the last time he slept properly, and as he tugs the tip of his own ear he briefly wonders, entirely too spent to care how pathetic it sounds, if the others have even noticed.

As laughter bubbles up across the room from him he lets self-pity take over as wonders if they even miss him right now, so happy and warm and content together. War’s is dozing, propped up on his fist and instants away from either landing in Twilight’s food or on his shoulder, and the rancher doesn’t look like he knows which would be worse. Sky is already conked out against the Goose man, snoring softly and drooling on his friend’s arm while the others continue their yammering, Time’s hand is buried idly in Four’s hair and Hyrule and Wild are both leaning back in their seats with easy smiles that whisper warnings that the two might topple over at any minute. Only the rancher and Wind seem to be keeping awake enough to talk to Sun and the other settlers, Goose long since having left the discussion to set his big boots on the table and listen in, only throwing out the occasional comment that has Sun blowing out her cheeks and rolling her eyes as they glitter with stifled laughter.

It’s downright homey.

Legend curls up tighter. Call him a crybaby, but he wants to go home.

It’s over sooner than later, but not soon enough, and as Time and Goose exchange snarky quips, both dragging their friends and brothers over to some of the spare beds, Legend has given up self-soothing to curl in on himself. He’s still wet, still cold, and by now the damp on his face isn’t from the rain they came in from a couple hours ago. He’s exhausted and he really wants to pass out, but he’s too sore and distracted and that itself is enough to make his eyes water in frustration as his ringer fingers dig into his arms hard enough to leave bruises.

He hardly registers when something brushes against his boot, but then something warm is pressed to his cheek and the vet darts back in surprise and fear at the sudden sensation eyes wide as they stare up to meet twinkling blue.

Sun is as warm as her name and her eyes twinkle like the night sky itself, full of light and life and hope that Legend hasn’t seen on the face of any living being ever. “Hey,” the goddess incarnate hums softly, like she’s approaching a particularly skittish remit, head cocked and hand extended cautiously, “You okay there, little hero?” Her voice is warm, rich and deep in a way he hadn’t expected but that somehow suits her better than the voice he’d imagined his comrade’s fiancé to have.

He blinks up at her, startled, mind empty as Hylia herself stands over him with concern in her blue eyes.

This... is weird.

The goddess tilts her head softly, golden hair brushing over her rosy cheeks charmingly as thin brows pull together in a light frown that makes him feel guilty for being its cause. “Are you alright?”

The hand reaches out again, and he has to try hard not to shiver as it presses against his brow again, impossibly warm and gentle and...

“You don’t seem to have a fever.” Hylia herself hums softly, scooching closer with worry glimmering in her gaze, hand pulling back at his continued grimace. “Hey.” His ears flicker slightly at the call as the woman before his ducks her head to be closer to his eye level. “Is something wrong? Are you-” royal blue widens as the woman reaches out yet again, stopping herself inches away as he flinches back. “Are those tears?” She whispers softly, but the question isn’t directed at him, so he avoids her gaze and shuffles in on himself again.

He expects that Hylia- Sun? - will back away, will wander back to her bed with furrowed brows and a shaking head as she dismisses the sorry bundle of self-pity sitting in the corner from her mind. He’s expecting a heavy sigh and the rustling of fabric as she pushes up and away. He’s expecting the chill that travels down his spine at the thought of sitting alone while the others curl up in their shared beds. He doesn’t expect the warm hands that settle on his back as toned arms wrap loosely around him, golden hair drifting into his vision as warmth spread through at every place that the goddess incarnate’s skin pressed against him.

He doesn’t expect the sob that rises in his throat either, or the desperate clutch onto the woman’s blouse as he silently begs her not to let go.

“You’ve been sad for a long time, haven’t you?” Rich tones whisper softly into his ears as one hand rubs up and down his back. “I’m sorry.”

Tears prick at his eyes again and when the woman pulls him forwards, he doesn’t resist as he’s pulled up into her lap, strong arms wrapping tight around him as a golden-head rests against his own. He hardly knows Sun, but he hardly cares right now as warmth surges through him from where he’s tucked in her arms, and even if his back is cramping up and his fingers are sore from how tight they’re holding her blouse, even if he’s flushed and embarrassed and blubbering, he doesn’t care, because the empty cold inside of him isn’t as heavy, and the heavy weight on his chest has lifted enough for him to breathe.

“Hush,” The goddess breathes against his ears. “Let it all out, little chick.”

Sobs stutter in his throat as long fingers rub against his back, a light hum filling the silence between gasping sobs as the goddess's own ballad drifts through the air, the notes of Zelda’s lullaby lilting through the melody as Sun rocks gently in place, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head as he continues to soak her in rainwater and tears.

They stay like that he doesn’t know how long, long enough that he’s sore and his eyes are puffy and his throat aches and everything is sore and darkness tints his vision as he sags in the arms that hold him. The Goose man’s voice rumbles something nearby, and Sun whispers something back, hands buried in his hair and brushing through it with delicious care as he lets the world fade from his mind. Briefly, he registers being shifted, lifted maybe as Sun continues to sway and sing. Numbly, he recognizes something warm being pressed to his lips and something warm and soothing trickling down his raw throat as he nuzzled closer to the damp fabric of Sun blouse. He’s past shame now, too tired to care how childish or ridiculous he may look as he revels in the touch, the gentle, goddess blessed touch of warmth that presses in around him and smothers the cold in his bones. Th empty cave in his chest is glowing softly with light, even as darkness washes over him and his eyes fall shut.

The goddess’s ballad- lullaby? - is the last thing he registers before the world fades.

[luimagines]

He reacts to seeing you Sick/Wounded Part 3

Final part of the prompt below!

Masterlist

First Part Previous Part

Scenario under the cut!

Four

Four starts looking through Wind’s borrowed telescope at the monster below them and tries to search for weak points and guard trails. There’s a good number of them, at least two per person here but they’re closer to the town than anyone anywhere is comfortable with so they have to go.

“AHHHCHOOO!!”

Multiple monsters look in your direction.

“Will you keep it down?” Legend snapped. “Sneeze a little louder next time, I don’t the monsters in the back heard you.”

“I’m not trying to be loud.” You sniffle and furiously wipe your face. “There’s got be something in the air here. I’m not allergic period. This just isn’t like me.”

Four nods in agreement and takes his eyes away from the telescope. He hands it back to Wind, who eagerly takes his spot and makes his way toward you.

In all honesty, you look miserable. And have since that morning.

You’re constantly sneezing, your nose and eyes are red and blotchy and it goes out to cheeks. You’ve been blowing your nose on random leaves since you’ve run out of tissues earlier that day and it continuously seems to be plugged despite it all. You also seem to be shivering ever so slightly but you never made any mention of being cold.

Four frowns to himself and pokes your neck, only to startled into placing his whole hand there. You’re covered in a cold sweat but warm despite the temperature outside.

“What the heck Four?” You knock his hand away and take a step back.

“I think you’re sick.” He blurts with as much grace a bull in a china shop.

“I’m no-” You cut yourself off with a cough this time. It’s so strong that you bend over and fall to your butt on the ground with barely any time in between to catch your breath.

“Benched.” Time turns on his heel and points you back the way you came. “Go back to the town. You’re not fit to fight.”

You whimper after the cough attack and nod, getting to your feet. Four doesn’t like the idea of you going back alone but he knows his friends need the numbers to take the monsters down fast enough, so he doesn’t offer for a moment. He tries to come to a decision before they make any more moves without him but Time speaks again.

“Four. Go with them. Make sure they actually make it to the town.” Time commands and turns to the rest of the group. “We’re going to need fire power.”

Four catches Warrior and Wild grin manically. “Leave it to us!”

“You had to say something.” Four snickers at Twilight misfortune and jogs slightly to catch up with you.

You’re still trying to wipe at your face with your sleeve and it leaves a trail of snot and tears on the fabric.

It’s a bit disgusting....Ok, it’s super gross and it makes Four want to gag somewhat but he’ll let you have it.

Being sick is gross. He’s just got to make sure your clothes are washed when it passes.

“Four?” You call.

He perks up and speeds up to fall in line with your steps. “I’m here.”

You look at him for a moment and sniffle again. “ ’m sorry you got sent back with me. You looked excited to take some monsters down.” 

“I’m...” Four looked to the side and tried to find the right words to talk to you. “I mean, I’ll live with it. I’m not that disappointed to be honest. I was thinking of joining you anyway. It didn’t feel right for you head out on your own.”

“But you want to support the others.” You argue. “I could see it. You had to think about it.”

“Ok well-”

“There’s a lot of them out there, isn’t there?” You press and frown to yourself. “A lot of monsters that are going to take all their hands and then some to be taken down and I get sent back and you have to come with me-”

“Ok, hold up.” Four grabs your bicep and shakes it a little. “Slow that down. It’s not like you asked to get sick. I know just as much you do that we’d both rather be up there with them. That’s a given. But you need to take care of yourself as well and I don’t mind being with you anyway.”

You push your mouth to the side and don’t look at him. “I better not get you sick.”

Four snorts ever so slightly and moves his hand from you arm to your hand, lacing your fingers together and swinging them ever so slightly. He knows you don’t want him to see the smile on your face when he does so but it’s your reaction every time.

“While I doubt it’ll happen, you’ll take care of me if I do get sick, right?”

“Always.” 

Warrior

They were in a new area this time. Warrior can’t recognize the landscape or the town’s names as they pass so he’s content to let someone else take the lead for a change.

The town’s people had mentioned a sealed temple of sorts that hadn’t been used in ages. Bad things had been happening in the area so they were advised to steer clear.

Naturally they had to go check it out.

Don’t leave no stone unturned and all that jazz.

If anything, it sounds more like a dungeon at this point so he’s a bit excited to get some practice in. 

Warrior walks near the front of the group and lets outa whistle when the reach their goal.

It a large dark blue building with three spiraling towers in a triangle-fecta with multiple columns around the front of it, acting as a sort of imposing gate. The columns themselves are full of grotesque monstrous faces, which are realistic enough to cause some discomfort amongst the ranks. 

“Oh, we’re going to be here for hours.” Legend groans and tilts his head to the sky. “Maybe even days! Why are here again?”

“To eradicate evil before it grows beyond it’s borders.” Time take a breath and walks forward. “The people are afraid and it’s our job to put an end to it.”

Warrior can agree with that, it’s what the hero does after all. Fine print and all that.

But you make a small whimper from behind him and turns around to see you. You don’t pleased one bit with your arms crossed and your head down. “I don’t like this place.”

Right. Not a Link. This technically isn’t in your job description, unlike them.

“You could wait out here?” Wild offers. Warrior remembers that they’re alike in a  away with the lack of experience with dungeons and wonders if maybe either one of them can stay back as well. Surely, they don’t all have to go in, do they?

Sky grins good naturally and punches you gently on your shoulder. “You good?”

“This whole place feels wrong.” You reply. “Do we have to go through there?”

“It’s because it feels wrong that we have to go in.” Hyrule shrugs. “We have to make it better.”

“If we find loot inside, it’s just a bonus.” Wind bounces up to you with grin.

“What’s the problem? Are you scared?” Legend taunts. “Do you need someone to hold your hand?”

“Are you offering?” You snap back.

“He may not be, but I am.” Warrior holds his hand out and smiles at you with as much charm as he can conjure up. He has no idea what possesses him to comment and he hopes that you don’t take offence to it. He wasn’t trying to mock you.

To his surprise, you look at his hand for a little moment longer than he think it’s worth and gently reach out to lace your fingers together.

Your hand is warm and you don’t look at him when he feels you give it a small squeeze. “Ok, let’s go.”

This is not a big deal. He’s not going to make it a big deal.

He just wanted to be a good friend is all. Yeah, that’s all it was.

As the group you all head into the cursed building and are immediately faced with choices.

Five hallways. No end in sight in any of them and no other options.

“Guess we split the party.” Twilight shrugged. “I’ll go with Wind.”

This was first pair off and others started to claim a partner for the journey ahead.

“I guess I already have my partner.” Warrior smiles and begins to walk away. “Should we take the far left?”

“Don’t you know, you never split the party.” You sing under your breath and tug on Warrior’s hand to the beat. “Clerics in the back, keep those fighter hale and hearty. The wizard in the middle where he can shed some light and you never let the damn thief out of sight.”

You’re not paying attention to him.

He chalks it up to your previous nervous energy and takes the lead instead.

The hallway you both travel through is dark and beginning to shrink. the two of you are now shoulder to shoulder and with more time, have to walk in a single file line.

You don’t let go of his hand.

Occasionally there is the lone torch to keep the path ahead illuminated but Warrior thinks that they’re more for decoration and peace of mind than any actual use. You know, considering the vast space of nothing in front of you.

The hallway comes to an abrupt stop and Warrior can feel you crash into his back. Before him a large room with torches on every other wall, eight walls in total, counting the one with the entryway. There’s nothing inside but a single glowing blue ball of light.

It reminds him faintly of Proxy and he steps inside the room to get a better look.

“Will o’ the wisp.” You mutter from behind and stop from entering the room any farther, stopping Warrior as well in the process.

“What?” He turns to you and can see how tense you are.

“Back home,” You begin. “They are known to be by swamps, bogs and the like. They’re supposed to mislead travelers and are used as a symbol of a goal that’s impossible to reach and are typically sinister in nature. What ever you do, don’t follow it.”

Warrior takes the warning to heart, takes a step and returns to your side.

Nothing like Proxy at all.

“What do we do then?” He asks, not taking his eyes off of it.

“I don’t know...” You gulp. “I didn’t even think they’d be here. They’re not known to be fighters... just mess with your head and lead you to your doom.”

On cue, the light shifts and begins to circle the room. Warrior makes a grab for his sword and you copy his movements. The two of you stand back to back and watch it closely.

It flies straight into a wall after a dizzying moment and a door appears where there wasn’t one before.

“That’s it?” Warrior stands down but his grip is tight, on both your hand and his weapon. “Guess that’s the way out.”

“No. What did I just say? Don’t follow it.”

“But it’s gone.”

“It went that way. Don’t go in the same direction.” You stress.

Warrior lets go of your hand and turns to stare at you head on, taking a step back and entering the rest of the room. He goes to open his mouth to reply- but his foot goes lower than he anticipates.

He’s activated something.

You jump as the entryway where you once were, shuts and the torches go out instantly, plunging the whole room into darkness.

“Link?” You call out and Warrior has no idea where you are all of a sudden.

He regrets letting go of your hand.

“Still here.” He chuckles nervous and finishes the sentence with an audible gulp.

The Will o’ wisp returns from a different direction and he hears you scream.

Warrior is quick to reach for Legend’s fire rod and he fires it into the air.

The ball of light leaves but the he’s taken gives just enough light to see what’s happened. You’ve ended up on the floor and somehow took a hit to your head that’s pouring blood all over your face, with a massive skeleton over you, poised to take another hit.

The fire from the rod dies out and the room goes black again.

But at least Warrior knows where you are.

And now he’s pissed.

He fires the rod again right at the monster and feels a vindictive sort of satisfaction when the creature catches aflame. He’s quick to launch the monster away from you and help you up. He passes you the rod, taking a full hold on his sword and stands in front of you.

“Light up the room and monsters, yeah? I’ll finish them off.” He says and drops into a defensive stance.

“Bad things happen with Wips.” You mutter and prepare to fire rod again and instead spin across the floor. Some of the torches relight but it’s clear they won’t last long.

More monsters start to appear from the doors the wisp activates now that the initial key has been set off.

“I’ll listen to you next time!” Warrior finishes the first beast and begin on the next.

“I think I’ll leave the dungeon stuff to the Links. Leave you, your puzzles and your monsters to each other.” You start talking to yourself. “This is no way to make a living.”

“Tell me about it. I didn’t even have these in my Hyrule.”

Hyrule

Hyrule has no clue what he’s was doing.

He could admit that.

He was used to having magic at his disposal and fixing the problem with it. But this? This was a little beyond his pay grade.

He wasn’t even being paid.

“ ‘Rule!” You cry from the bed. You hand is outstretched in an attempt to reach him but he’s too far away from your grasp.

He walks over to your side and grabs your hand. “I’m here. What do you need?”

“Can I have a glass of water?” You grip his hand and he’s hit with a wave of concern when he sees it’s not really that strong.

“Yeah, sure.” He says, getting up. “Give me a minute.”

You smile at him and close your eyes again. He hates how miserable you look. Flushed cheeks and forehead, raging fever, cold sweat running off you in a vain attempt to cool yourself down, you’re shaking and he catches you mumble every now and then but he can’t catch what you say.

Hyrule’s silver lining is that you’ve been mostly asleep through the day, making his job a little easier as nurse and doctor. The most he can complain about is that it’s a little boring.

He still doesn’t know what’s he’s doing.

He had thought that it was something he could handle but but was only within the first hour that he realized he was powerless to help you with anything.

He feels a little useless.

The others had gone out to survey the town they’re cooped up in and get details and equipment.

Hyrule knows himself well enough and has learned enough from the others that he’s pretty much... well, useless in a market. Money isn’t really a concept where he’s from or at least not with the bells and whistles and unwritten rules that everyone else seems to know at the drop of a hat.

On top of that, with Hyrule’s bleeding heart, he had offered to be the one to stay behind and look after you while they were gone most of the day. He figured that if he was the groups healer then he could help you with this too.

Wrong.

Again, he’s thankful you’ve mostly been sleeping.

When he’s retrieved your request and made it back to the room, he stops dead in his tracks at the door.

There’s... something over you. A shadow like blob with no discernable shape, figure or features. The revelation shocks Hyrule into stillness at the idea of you being in danger.

It’s not outwardly hurting you. Just watching.

Or so he thinks anyway.

You still look peacefully unaware of the conscious world and look to be in a deep sleep once more. Meaning, you have idea that this.. thing is here.

Hyrule doesn’t move but he looks around is immediate vicinity. His sword is barely within arms reach and he knows that the step he’s about to take is directly on a squeaky board. It would alert his presence and he doesn’t have anyway of currently fighting that thing.

He crouches down and places your cup by the door frame. He then places is hand just beyond the squeaky board and crawls those few inches to reach his sword.

As soon as it’s within his grasp, he calls on his magic and throws his astral sword in the thing’s direction.

It makes contact, but does no damage.

The shadow mass merely “stands” straighter and stills all movement.

This thing may not have a face but Hyrule is sure that it’s checking him out, assessing him, gauging what kind of threat he might be if he were to attack again.

Hyrule readies himself into a defensive stance and glares right back.

There are no words spoken.

Just as he’s about to charge, it dips down and disappears through the floor boards. The air in room ceases to be charged with unfathomable energy and he knows that it’s gone.

Hyrule is confused and on edge. He’s never seen something like before and he doubts that it’ll help your condition if he asks you or if you would know anything about it.

He straps his sword on his back, just in case, and picks up your cup.

“Link?” You call again, trying to push yourself up into a sitting position. You’re still very weak and very tired and you give up half way.

“I have your water.” He says instead, trying his best to smile for you. He holds it out to you and hopes that you don’t notice that his hands are shaking.

You grin in response and take it, seemingly none the wiser.

You sigh in relief as you sip. “You’re a good friend. Thanks for staying with me. I’m sure it’s been pretty boring when all the others are been productive.”

“I don’t mind one bit. I’ll be here for as long as you need me.” He sits on the bed.

Hyrule continuously has no idea what he’s doing.

But he certainly isn’t going to be bored from here on out. 

He has to protect you now, from whatever that was, so he will. 

[333sth]

dove. (frankie morales)

chapter i. previous.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n.

warnings: mention of ptsd/military service, language, violence, brief mention of torture/kidnapping, injury detail, fighting.

summary: frankie was going to propose, until dove found the ring and ghosted. even santi can’t track her down.

rating: mature. wc: 1.6k

next

Dove was a nickname coined by an old general during her training. He was a traditional man, though not disrespectful. It was a term of endearment that probably softened the influx of powerful women breaching into the male territory. He’d drawled, ‘I ought to call you Dove – I ain’t never seen a girl so swift, yet so fuckin’ lethal.’ She kept the boys in line too, he’d noted. When Benny got too reckless, or Tom’s temper ran away with him, she was the first to snap them out of it. In environments where peace was a very distant concept, she played the peacekeeper.

One time, during a two-month deployment in Nigeria, the group was shoved in the back of an ancient pick-up truck for six hours. Dove was wedged between Will and Frankie, sweltering in the humid air. The stale smell of sweat mixed with blood and diesel was permeating the air, and they were three hours from the nearest checkpoint. To pass the time, she asked them what they’d do if they weren’t special forces.

That was easy for Will – he’d be a teacher of some kind. Benny waffled about sports, making some brash comment about how he’s got to channel all his aggression somewhere. Tom and Santi couldn’t come up with anything that suited them more than the forces, which was not surprising. Frankie would still be a pilot somehow. Dove had never seen him more comfortable than in the pilot’s chair.

Dove dreamed of owning her own bar or café, somewhere relaxed and laid-back. A beach perhaps, somewhere quaint and peaceful, where the air is warm well into the late evening and the waves are gentle, collapsing onto the sand like white noise. She imagined the hum of conversation meeting tinkling music, beach lanterns dotted around the decking to cast an ambient glow beneath the stars. Maybe a chef on weekends could make bar snacks. Tom had snorted at that, throwing a jab about how she can burn the water they use to make their dried food sachets.

The men had recalled this conversation, desperately trying to fathom where Dove might have taken off to. It was met with an aching nostalgia for the type of teammate she was too. That conversation had been a tactic, a peaceful one, to prevent the terrible concoction of adrenaline, exhaustion and heat forming an argument in that truck. She was a natural tactician as well as a good friend.

Frankie had recounted each country they had been stationed and exactly how Dove had felt about them. She had loved Argentina, even when she got shot and Will spent three hours with his finger crammed in the wound to stop the bleeding. But she also liked Jamaica, Brazil and Hawaii. None of their contacts in the forces had any trace of her, not even Santi’s in South America. Her family were none the wiser – they brushed it off, her dad mumbling something about it sounding like her usual antics. 

All he had was a scribbled note that read, ‘I need space. I’m safe. I love you.’ It was folded neatly in his wallet, like he was carrying the last piece of her that he had. 

*

Mexico. That was where she was. A small town on the West coast that had enough life to keep her occupied, and the guarantee of anonymity.

If people asked, she was a retired nurse, which wasn’t entirely untrue. She told them she spent a lot of her career in humanitarian aid, to explain the occasional jitters on a rowdy Friday night and the nasty scars. There was a particularly gruesome one leading from the base of her throat up to her bottom lip from a knife fight. She told them it was shrapnel, flung from a collapsing building, and she was lucky it didn’t catch her jugular. The locals had gasped in awe at her heroism. She’d flinched against the memory of how her own knife buried into her attacker’s throat instead. 

A few days into her move, Dove had found what could only be considered a derelict shed on the beachfront. It was probably the remains of an old boathouse. With some help from the locals, she had restored the ageing planks of wood. What was spare formed the bar and some rustic furniture. She pieced together a jumble of second-hand bar stools, chairs and lanterns that made for an eclectic combination. It had character and history in its walls, rather than some swanky, expensive build devoid of any personality. It was exactly what she had dreamed of, huddled in hypothermic temperatures or insomniac in her cot at base, sleep beyond her reach.

It didn’t change the fact that every time she entered her bedroom, the old polaroid of Frankie pinned to the wall hits her like a ton of bricks. Frankie knows she took it – it was pinned to the fridge at their home before she left. It’s quintessential Frankie, sat with his arms folded to his chest, biceps straining slightly against an old denim shirt that was getting a little too snug post-retirement. It was at a barbecue, his skin tanned and flushed from a day in the sun drinking, tousled hair peeking out from the sides of a dog-eared cap. Every time Dove glances at it, she wonders if he still has that hat. 

‘Of course he has,’ the voice in her head snaps back. Any piece of clothing she’d suggest replacing would be countered with, ‘over my dead body’. The man was sentimental, a little too attached to his home comforts. She’d also bought it him in a seedy gift shop in the middle of nowhere as a joke. 

“To add some variety,” she’d said. He would never let it go now.

Once, Veronica had eyed the photograph on her mirror and asked, “Who is he then? An ex?”

Veronica, or Roni for short, had lived in the town her whole life until university. When she graduated and moved home to save money, she needed a job. Dove needed a friend, so she took her on as a bartender. She was young and giddy, but harmless. More importantly, she was too self-absorbed to notice or even care that her thirty-something year old boss had bullet holes in her back.

“Something like that.” Dove had replied, rifling through her sorry excuse for a makeup bag. She’d closed the bar early to have a rare night off in the next town over, which had considerably livelier nightlife. 

“You never talk about relationships. Or men.’ Roni observed, peering over Dove’s shoulder to eye another photograph. It was a group picture of the boys, huddled in the same fraying booth in their favourite bar back in Florida. “Looks like you were spoilt for choice.”

Dove scoffed, meeting her friend’s twinkling gaze in the mirror. “Shut your mouth. They were friends from work.”

“Were? Does that mean you can’t set me up now?” 

“They’re almost twice your age. You’d tire ‘em out.” Dove set down the lip-gloss she dragged out for special occasions. “Come on, I’m not getting any younger either. It’s already passed my bedtime.”

Thankfully, that was enough to amuse the younger girl into linking her arm and hauling her out the door to the taxi, no more questions asked.

*

The hollering of spectators and thudding of skin slapping against the mat was reduced to a distant buzzing in Frankie’s ears. It was dimmed by the incessant ramblings of Santiago and Tom, discussing the files Santi had put together on Lorea. He could feel the reawakening of his rusty military senses as he follows the familiar tactics, mentally registering his agreement or noting what he might do differently. He doesn’t vocalise it though, because he hasn’t even agreed yet. Joining the debate would inadvertently signal his agreement. He didn’t want that.

There was a shadow lingering in the space on the bench beside him. It was an empty presence, not Will, who was hooked on the cage of the ring yelling encouragement to his brother. Not Benny, thumping his leather gloves together with his teeth pulled harshly over his mouthguard, judging his competitor with a predatory glint in his eye. 

The opponent was a monster, but he lumbered like his limbs were filled with lead. Frankie notes that Benny, nimble and tall, will have a breeze tiring him out. Dove would have joked that it wasn’t worth coming, that they’ll be sat here until their asses are numb watching Benny play cat and mouse. His chest twinges. Sometimes it’s too easy to remember what she’d do, what she’d say. He wished he knew what she’d make of Santiago’s proposition. She always saw through Pope’s glamourisation and Tom’s greed. 

What Frankie misses while he observes his pitiful surroundings is Tom and Santi descending into a hushed conversation. Tom nudges Santi, “You got anything on Dove?”

Santi sighs, long and solemn, “Maybe.” As Tom’s face quirks in interest, he holds up his finger, “It’s just a hunch.”

“A hunch is better than what we’ve had in the last year.”

Santi takes a sip of his beer, casting a glance at Fish, whose eyes are trained on the floor and the swirling contents of his cup. He knows him well enough to know his thoughts are the only thing that have his attention.

“I worry about him. We all do.” Tom whispers. “Getting busted just made things worse.”

“Don’t get his hopes up, man. It’s nothing solid. It’ll crush him if I’m wrong.” Tom nods solemnly before Santi continues, “A friend of mine saw an ex-Delta in a bar, a woman. He knew ‘cause of a tattoo she had on the nape of her neck.”

Tom’s eyes widen. In front of them, Benny lands a sickening punch on his opponent’s nose, complimented by an audible crack. He’s barely breaking a sweat, dancing around as the guy heaves and stumbles forward. 

Santi’s gaze doesn’t break from the ring. “Mexico. I think she’s in Mexico.”