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whisperofwonder · 10 months ago

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Departures & Arrivals

Timeskip!Iwaizumi Hajime x reader (gender neutral)

POV: You are one of Iwaizumi's college classmates in California, and there's definitely something between you, but it takes two trips to the airport to figure out exactly what.

2k words | Slight angst with a happy ending

You navigate through the crowded lanes in front of the airport, finally coming to a stop in front of the correct gate. Hajime turns to you before reaching for the door handle.

"Thanks for dropping me off," He says for what's probably the fifth time. "I really appreciate it."

"Of course," You wave it off, "There's no way I'd let you pay the crazy prices for an uber. We're broke college students." You laugh, and he answers it with a smile. "You need me to help get your luggage?"

"No," He shakes his head, "I've got it. Don't bother getting out." You nod, and he finally opens the door as you pop the trunk. You roll the window down as he turns for the door, pulling his suitcase behind him.

"Have a good time back home!" You call out. "Send lots of pictures!" He turns back and lifts his hand in a wave.

"Of course I will," He promises, flashing you one last smile before he turns to go. You watch his retreating back for a few moments before rolling the window back up and putting your car in drive.

It's bittersweet, watching him leave. You know he's been looking forward to going back home for a few weeks this summer, and that he's been feeling a little more homesick than he'll admit. Still, your life is going to feel just a little bit emptier without him around.

You sigh, turning the music up a few notches as you pull onto the highway. You can't get the evening a few weeks ago out of your head.

The two of you had been dancing around it for months. Your friends recognized it in the mildly flirtatious back-and-forth, the way you always ended up sitting with your shoulders touching, and that you somehow found a way to spend nearly every weekend together. You recognized it in the tug in your middle that you felt whenever he was around, in the strange certainty starting the moment you met him that this was someone you've known all your life. Someone you connected with on a level you didn't even realize existed. You'd never felt this way before.

"Hajime, I really like you!" You'd finally blurted out. You aren't sure if that means exactly the same thing in Japan as it does to you, but judging by the look on his face, you can only assume it does. For a few moments, he only looked at you, different emotions playing across his face, then closed his eyes with a heavy sigh.

"I can't," He finally said, sharply, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, that was - I mean -" He paused, and you watched him parsing the English together in his head, heart falling into the pit of your stomach. "I can't do that to you." He said more softly. "I - I've thought about it," He admits. "But I don't want something... casual." He finally settled on the word. You're left reeling, because he's admitted to having feelings for you and turned you down in the same breath.

"And after I graduate, I know I'm going back to Japan," He continued, "And I can't ask you to deal with whatever that involves. I can't ask you to choose between me and the rest of your life. So I think it's better if we just stay friends." He paused. "Because I do want to be your friend. I think you're pretty great," He added with a small, sad smile.

Even turning you down, he's the nicest guy you've ever known. "Okay," Is all you could say, softly, pasting on a brave smile. "Friends, then."

It's not as though you haven't considered what it would mean, being in a relationship with him. You do have a life here in the U.S., and a family, but you're confident in knowing that it's something that will always be here, waiting for you, no matter where life takes you. With your major, you know you could find work anywhere. Even before meeting Hajime, you'd had dreams of living abroad. Japan doesn't sound like such a bad choice.

You haven't told him this, not in so many words. You don't want him to think this is something you're saying just to be with him. The future is a big thing to promise on what might turn into a few dates before you decide to go your separate ways. Still - if he was open to it, you'd be willing to try.

The next morning, you wake up to a message letting you know he'd arrived safely, shortly followed by a photo of the Sendai airport. You smile at your phone, telling him you're glad that he made it home.

The following days are punctuated by photos and messages, painting you a picture of a place called Miyagi - somewhere you'd had no reason to know existed until you'd met a certain dark-haired sports-science major. Suddenly, it seems like a very important place indeed.

You reciprocate, sharing snapshots of your hometown, places you can't help thinking you'd love to share with him in person. As time passes, the messages grow more and more frequent, and longer as you try to cram exactly how much you miss him between the words without admitting as much.

One morning, you've just poured yourself a cup of coffee and curled up on the sofa to enjoy it when your phone rings. To your surprise, Hajime's name shows up on the screen.

"Hello?" You answer hesitantly, a little worried at first that something might be wrong.

"I didn't wake you up, did I?" Even across the phone line, the sound of his worried voice is a welcome sound.

"No," You laugh softly, "I just poured my coffee." You lift the mug to your lips and take a sip.

"Good," He says in a huff of relief. "Time zones are weird."

"They are," You agree with a chuckle. "So, what's up?"

"I couldn't sleep, and - I thought I'd call you. Texting isn't quite the same," He admits. You picture him, maybe sitting cross-legged on the bed in his childhood bedroom, and you press your smile to the rim of your coffee mug.

"No," You agree. "It's not." You haven't ever really talked on the phone with him before. You saw him so often, you hadn't ever felt the need to, but this is nice. "How is it being back in Japan?"

"It's been really great," He says quickly. "Seeing my parents and my friends again has been nice. In a way, it almost feels like I never left. But is it weird that I also kind of miss California?"

"No," You say softly, biting back the fact that you miss him. "California misses you, too," You say more lightly, drawing out a warm chuckle from him that you feel in the pit of your stomach.

"What about you?" He asks then, "Anything exciting going on?"

You shift to a more comfortable position, hugging a throw pillow to your middle and taking a breath. You hadn't known how to share this with him via text. "Well, I just heard back from this company in Norway. They're really interested in having me work for them, starting with an internship this fall. I could transfer to a university there to finish my degree."

"Oh," He says quietly, and you hum in response. "That's great!" His voice brightens, but it sounds fake even through the phone. "So... you would move to Norway?"

"Yeah, I would," You confirm. "If I decide to accept," You add. "I think living abroad would be exciting." You aren't dropping any hints, you tell yourself. Just stating the facts. A year ago, Norway would have done just as well as Japan, or any country, really. A year ago, you probably would have already accepted this opportunity by now.

"That sounds like a great opportunity," He says, "I'm happy for you."

Are you really? You want to ask, but you don't.

"Thanks," you say instead, and find an excuse to move on to another topic. You chat about his travels in Japan with his friends, and your recent trip up the California coast. By the time the conversation winds down, things feel almost normal between the two of you again.

"I should let you get to sleep," You say finally, after he stifles yet another yawn.

"Yeah," He says reluctantly, "You're probably right." He pauses. "One last thing," He adds. "You can totally say no, but would you mind picking me up at the airport when I get back? My flight gets in on August 9, at 4pm. I can always ask Adam to do it if you-"

"I'll be there," You say quickly, before he can finish. "Don't worry about it."

"Okay," You can hear the smile in his voice. "Thanks."

For a few moments after you hang up, you don't move from the couch. Talking to him again, hearing his voice, it stirred up everything you'd been trying so hard to keep at bay.

As the days pass, your correspondence is relegated to shorter messages and quick photos. Things between you feel just a little more stilted than before. Slowly, you're beginning to accept the truth, something you'd been trying so hard to ignore.

I can't just be your friend. You've practiced it over and over in your head. It's going to hurt to say, but you can't go on like this. If Hajime doesn't want to try to make a relationship work - and you can't blame him if he doesn't - then it will be better for both of you if you don't see each other anymore. You even have your perfect escape route - Norway. You tell yourself you'll wait to give them your final answer until after August 9.

Driving to the airport, the gnawing pit in your stomach grows with every mile. This may be one of the last times you see him. You're terrified that you'll chicken out before you can even give your carefully planned speech. You're terrified it can only lead to goodbye. You can't even allow yourself a sliver of hope, because it will only hurt that much more in the end.

Waiting in the lineup of cars, you watch the streams of people passing by for a familiar face. Craning your neck, you finally catch sight of him stepping through the doors, and you can tell the moment he spots you, because a smile breaks across his face. You clench your fist to strengthen your resolve.

Getting out of your car, you move to the trunk, making sure there's plenty of space. It looks like he's returned with an extra suitcase. When he finally approaches the car, only a few feet from you, you look up at him again. "Welcome back!" You say, attempting to put as much cheer in your voice as possible.

He doesn't answer, and instead lets go of his suitcases and strides purposefully through the remaining space between you. Before you can react, his lips are on yours, a hand at the back of your neck to keep you steady. You let out a small, surprised sound before you return the kiss automatically, fingers bunching into the material of his t-shirt as if to prove to yourself that he's really here in front of you - really kissing you like he means it.

When he finally pulls away, his cheeks are flushed, and he's breathing heavily. "I want to see where this goes," He says breathlessly. "I want to be with you, if you'll have me?" What a silly question, as if the way you'd shamelessly pressed back into his kiss hadn't been answer enough. You can't help but smile back.

"Yes," You say quickly, eyes searching his face, taking in very part of him.

"I know it won't be easy," He adds, "And I know we'll have to be long distance, at least for a little, but I want to try. I want to put in the work, because I know it will be worth it."

"Yes!" You say again, giddy laughter bubbling up, "I'm ready," You nod, "I'm ready to do whatever it takes. To be with you." Your smile feels like it's splitting your face in half.

There are long conversations ahead. There's so much to discuss, and so much to prepare for. It won't all be easy. For now, though, Hajime pulls you close and kisses you again, the press of his lips assuring you that, no matter what, it will be worth it.

#Haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #Iwaizumi Hajime #Iwaizumi Hajime x reader #Iwaizumi x reader #moon writes #moon writes hq

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blakeswritingimagines · 1 year ago

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This Love

Summary: Lovesick! Aegon and his pregnant partner fight and make up.

Word count: 3.6k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Aegon pursued his lips before clicking his tongue as he brought his wine closer to his lips taking a long sip, listening to your angry rambling which had become common with how far along in the pregnancy you were at least that's what he was told but simply nodded along having learned if he said otherwise you apparently grew annoyed that he didn't share the same thoughts and feelings as you even though you were the only one that was pregnant "Yes darling your right I'm sure." "You don't care at all. You never do." You said, tears welling as you spoke. "What was our conversation earlier, exactly? All you can think about are your precious whores, aren't you? You'd kill me in an instant if it would give you an extra." You moved closer to Aegon. Your eyes were bloodshot, but you continued on. "Well, go on- kill me. I'm nothing to you, Aegon. I am nothing to you. I'm just a womb for your children."

Aegon stood and watched as you neared closer slowly but surely to him before he gently wrapped his arms around your swollen body and held you close as he quietly shushed you, letting out a sigh knowing he couldn't find anything right to say to you when your emotions ran higher like most days since you had become pregnant but softly spoke in your ear "I care about you as much as I do Sunfrye, you know that nor have I ever said you care about your something else more, it's difficult saying anything to you right now because no matter what I'm wrong and I'm simply trying not to annoy you further. But if it's such a big deal then I'll speak to whoever is bothering you and deal with it." Rolling your eyes at his words "Don't lie to me, Aegon. I can see it in your eyes, the way you look at me with indifference. You are disgusted by me, Aegon!" You broke from his embrace and took several shaky steps backward. "I am nothing to you! To anyone! I am just a worthless womb, aren't I?" You shouted with a sob.

Aegon felt his stomach turn as he watched you and felt awful that he couldn't help you any better than he could, slowly walking closer to you as he slowly held his hands out but didn't touch you as he shook his head and spoke with certainty "I'm not disgusted by you dear, nor are you just a womb to anyone I promise, I've been letting you help rule everything by my side granted I've taken over but it's just because your pregnant and once the babe is here you'll come back and help me won't you? We'll take care of our babe and our people together." "You're just trying to placate me. You'll discard me once the child is delivered, won't you? You'll discard me once I'm no longer useful to you, won't you? Admit it! You'll discard me and you'll find some new pregnant wench to fill my spot!" You shouted with an unhinged ferocity.

Aegon sighed as he listened to you shout at him which was starting to become normal to him but gripped your jaw in his hand still trying to be as gentle as he could but forced you to make eye contact with him as he spoke no longer in the mood to hear your thoughts about what you figured he might do once the babe was born "Knock it off right now, I married you and I am having a babe with you I have no plans or desires to find someone else you are it for me and I promise whoever has been filling your head with such things will be answering to me and begging for their life if they do this again" Knowing people in court and the servants around the castle gossiped heavily, especially about himself. "Liar! Liar! Liar! Liar!" You tightly closed your eyes and began to repeat over and over, your voice growing louder with each passing word. "Don't lie to me, Aegon! I know the way you truly feel! You'll trade me in like a horse, won't you? You'll trade me in for a younger girl; one with less stretch marks and a tighter womb! Admit it!"

Aegon listened to you insult him by calling him a liar but simply leaned closer as he let his hands trail up and down your swollen body squeezing every once in a while, loving how much more plump you had become since being pregnant but learned the hard way not to say it that way to you but grinned to himself as he spoke and looked into your dark brown eyes with his violet ones "You are still young and just as gorgeous as when we were met, and I love your stretch marks and tracing them when you let me" Leaning closer as he whispered "and your still tight yourself I've noticed when we have sex." "Stop trying to placate me." You spat at Aegon, slapping his hand away. "You've probably already found some other wench, I'm sure. I mean, when I'm not around all the time you must be so tempted to cheat. To find yourself a new woman. You are not faithful to me, Aegon! I know it! I need only look at your eyes to see the lust bubbling beneath the surface!"

Aegon pulled his hands away but rested them beside you still as he nodded his head along to your words as he pretended to think about it before looking at you once more and smiling to himself remembering what he did when you weren't around to help him when he got excited and horny but raised a brow at you as he playfully tilted his head "Or and do hear me out on this, I simply get want you when the lust is too much I adore having you all to myself and when your not around i've learned how to deal with it myself since nobody could ever compare to you" Knowing he only ever really looked at you whenever even when you walked into the room or even during court as he was the king, he couldn't easily take his eyes off of you and often had to deal with his younger brother Aemond tell him how lovesick he looked for you since meeting you. You laughed humorlessly before walking towards a nearby divan and plopping down on it. "I am supposed to believe that, then? You expect me to believe that your lust can be satisfied by your own hands? How stupid do you think I am?"

Aegon watched you closely before walking closer to you and even doing the unthinkable that no king ever really did for anyone and kneeled down beside you instead of sitting next to you since you had made it clear you didn't want his touch right now and chuckled "I never said it satisfied me but what am I to do when you're not around or do not want sex? when we first married you had asked me to not hurt you and I'm doing everything I can not to even now a year later... but I do not know what else to do to help you understand that." Scoffing lightly before you spoke. "So, then what do you do to satisfy your urges? Do you use your hands, like a normal man does?" You asked, sarcastically. "Or do you find another woman? It wouldn't surprise me, to be honest. You were quite the womanizer before our betrothal. Which one is it, Aegon? I wish to know." You said before you turned your head to face him and looked directly into Aegon's eyes.

Aegon clasped his hands together as he looked up at you before rolling his eyes then sighed before licking his lips as he looked into your eyes and slowly nodded his head as he spoke honestly "I have thought about going back to the streets of Slik but I haven't you can even ask... I do it myself especially since during most of this pregnancy you don't want to be touched unless you want it and we've only had sex when you wanted it" Knowing how much he used and slept around with women and the servant girls since he had kids before you two got together but had been doing his best to stop for you even with as much as you slapped it back in his face. "How am I supposed to trust you, Aegon? Do you think I'm so stupid? You could cheat right now and I wouldn't be able to do anything to stop you. You have all the power. You know how I feel about your past. What if one of them became pregnant? What if you sired a bastard with some random woman? Admit it! Even if you did father a bastard, you wouldn't tell me. You'd cover it up! You'd lie to me, wouldn't you!" He demanded.

Aegon listened to you and had heard enough even from his own family when he agreed to marry you when his older sister your mother Rhaenyra offered a marriage between you both, gently placing his hand on your swollen stomach simply wishing he could make everything better but finally looked away only looking at your stomach now as he quietly spoke feeling more broken then he had ever felt in his life before "your right I know you are but I'm trying there are days that are harder but I still push through and try for you, for our babe, I refuse to let anyone speak about you or your brothers as if your bastards anymore, and I still let you rule beside me even knowing people would've had a problem with it, I don't know what else to do to please you..." "You expect me to believe that?" You couldn't help but sneer. "Just saying that you won't cheat doesn't mean you won't cheat! You are lying, Aegon; I would not be surprised if you have cheated already. You are only telling me what you think I want to hear, aren't you? What if I did want to get out? You know I can't do that. You are the one with all the power, Aegon! You can do anything you want and I will have to deal with it."

Aegon simply ignored you trying to accuse him of cheating still and leaned forward as he gently kissed your large bump before looking up at you as he tried to hide his broken feelings that felt like it could've killed him and spoke quietly "Just say the word that you want out and I'll figure it out... I promise", Slowly standing and started to make his way out of the room to give you more space instead of keeping up with the fight that had lasted hours by now since he didn't know how else he should comfort you or calm your worries that seemed heavier than ever that he would cheat since you became pregnant. "Don't leave!" You shout as Aegon begins to walk away. "I'm trying to have a conversation with you, Aegon! You would leave the moment things got difficult, wouldn't you? It's just another sign that you're no better than all the other men! Come back here! I am not done with you yet! You cannot ignore this, Aegon!" You stood and stalked Aegon, hearing your heart pound in your ears in fury.

Aegon stopped in his tracks and slightly turned to face you before he shrugged at your words feeling like he was at a loss "What else shall I do? you ignore my claim of never cheating on you, that I must not actually love you, everything I try to talk out you don't believe me anyway even when I try to make things easier for you, for us you blissfully ignore...I know what I was like before you but I am trying to change and you refuse to see it. I don't sleep around, I don't drink, and I have taken care of anyone who thought it was a good idea to say you and your brothers are bastards. I even stopped my brother from killing yours." Walking closer to you as his resolve started to break since he was tired of fighting the same things day in and day out while still fighting with his own family. "What else can I do?" You stared up at the King directly in his eyes with an expression that was equal parts fury and sorrow. "Swear to me that you have not been unfaithful to me since our wedding night. Swear it to me now, Aegon. I refuse to believe you until I hear you swear to this," you demanded.

Aegon sighed as he heard your words and had been doing such since these fights started but slowly opened his violet eyes and looked into your misty ones letting the silence hang in the air for what felt like forever but slowly and quietly starting to talk tired as ever "I swear it to you, on whatever you want I have not laid with another that wasn't you." Pulling his arm out of your hold knowing he would swear it on his father, the iron throne, his kids, his dragon, anything you could think of that he was being truthful even about some days being harder than some. You stared intently into Aegon's eyes as you waited to hear him speak the oath. "Swear it to me on your crown. Swear it to me on your honor that you have remained faithful to me. Swear it to me by whatever is most holy to you." Aegon sighed as he looked at you but listened to you speak, before nodding his head at everything you listed before stopping to think what was most holy to him since he didn't care about his own father who had passed or the gods had never seemed to help him when he most needed it. But looked off as he thought about what was most holy to him before he quietly spoke and looked into your eyes as he gave an answer not even you would have seen coming about what he thought was the most holy thing in his life "I swear it on our marriage."

You stared at Aegon for a long moment. "You swear it on our marriage," you repeated slowly. "Do you know what that means? I want you to tell me exactly what that means. I want to hear it from you, Aegon. Tell me what swearing it on our marriage means to you." Aegon leaned in close to you as he took a deep breath knowing it was an improper and most likely taboo that he let you mainly be in charge between you both, but enjoyed it normally since he had to be in charge as king, looking into your eyes as he gently took your hand in his own before he started talking "It means I have never cheated and will never be as stupid to cheat on such a beautiful soul regardless what you or anyone thinks, it means you are the only person in the world for me even right now as we fight that I want in my bed at the end of the day, that I want children with and to rule beside me...it means that you and our marriage are the holiest things in this world to me I don't care about anyone else even the fucking gods as long as I have you beside me and in my arms. I will deal with anyone who makes you think otherwise or you think could even turn my head".

You listened intently to Aegon's admission of loyalty. "I believe you," you said plainly, after a long silence. "You are right. I'm sorry. You have been a loyal husband, and I'm sorry that I doubt your fidelity. I'm sorry that I accuse you of infidelity. You don't deserve that, Aegon. I have behaved shamefully towards you. I can see that now." Aegon still made no move to touch or hold you as he still thought you might not want him too but slowly started to smile before he shook his head and spoke with a deep rasp to his voice "No you were right I slept around and used women however I pleased before it's fair of you to think I can't give up my ways," slowly moving his hand up only to cup your face as he leaned in closer letting his warm breath hit your pink lips. "I know it's hard to believe even with people still talking about it to the day but I do mean it that I've been changing just for you, I only want your stretch marks and all...and your tight womb." You paused for a moment, as Aegon's last comment made you realize he might not have used the most tasteful wording. "Are you serious?" He asked, with amusement in his voice. "You really mean to tell me you have been changing your ways, Aegon. You have truly given up your old lifestyle, just for me? Are you being honest, then? Truly honest? Are you trying to tell me that you really love me above all others?"

Aegon listened to you before letting go of you and slowly kneeled before you as he looked up at you knowing a king should never bend at the knee for anyone or anything but made it a point to show you how honest he was being as he nodded his head and slowly started to smile as the fight was calming down "yes I'm being honest and I have truly been trying...just for you, I know I've slept around and used people before nor was I very kind to you when we met, and I might still make mistakes but I am trying I promise." You watched Aegon as he knelt before you, and you could not help but laugh in amusement. "You kneel before me like a lowly knight," you said teasingly, trying to hide the swelling feeling around your heart at Aegon's display of devotion. "I suppose I must get used to my place as Queen then if you truly are as devoted to me as you say you are." You said, in a slightly teasing manner. "I forgive you for our misunderstandings, my husband. You really do love me, don't you?" Aegon chuckled but nodded his head in understanding but would've done it over and over again if he had to, placing his hands on your thighs as he kept looking up at you before he nodded his head again feeling relief set in his bones that you seemed to be understanding, even as tough as it was for him to not want to use women like he was used to he would always keep you in mind if he even ever had to speak to other women. "That I do darling, you could ask for whatever your heart desired and I would give to you, especially if it helped you feel better that I would not cheat on you." Tilting your head to the side as you looked at him.

"Anything I desire, Aegon?" You looked at your husband with amusement in your eyes and a small smile on your lips. "What happens if I were to demand something ridiculous from you. Something that you absolutely cannot give me. And when I say this, I mean something truly ridiculous - can you think of something so absurd that it makes you laugh at the thought of it?" Aegon nodded his head knowing all he wanted was for his life to calm down and no longer have to fight with every single person especially you, chuckling again before resting his head against your swollen stomach still kneeling before you but had a small smile on his face knowing you would push this as far as you could, but slightly nodded his head again as he spoke knowing he would take care of anyone who made you rethink your life with him or made you jealous. "I would still do my best to make it happen, name your price...anything at all." You thought for a moment before your smile widened into a grin as you spoke once more. "What if I ordered you to abdicate the throne in my favor?" You said with a giggle not believing he would do it. "What if I told you to give up your crown, simply because I asked you to? Would you do it, Aegon? Would you step down from the Iron Throne just for me?"

"I am sure. You may ask for anything your heart desires. I will make it so." Aegon's eyes are intense with an overwhelming anticipation. Aegon's brows raise and his eyes are fixed on you with an unreadable expression. "… Well, I… I…" He laughs nervously, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck. "Um, I… I would, yes." The nervous laughter grows as his pale cheeks flush red. "Truly? Would you, Aegon?" You asked, your eyes widening as you spoke. "Would you really step down as King for me?… Because I was just joking, really." You laughed playfully at Aegon's face turning red, before you moved to kneel alongside Aegon on the floor. "I never wanted you to give up your crown, Aegon," you said quietly, in a serious tone. His nervous laughter continues and he looks away, trying to collect his thoughts. After a moment his face slowly relaxes and he looks back at you. "…I did not expect this. I…" He's silent and uncertain, as all thoughts and feelings fly all over the place inside his head. "But I have a lot of love for you." His face turns toward Jacaerys and he gives a soft expression. "More than you may know."

#aegon targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #hotd aegon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd

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quintessenceofdust88 · 4 months ago

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Life is changin' Tides, ch. 2 🌊

[Ch. 1 here]

[Also available on AO3]

Tommy drives through LA’s streets with complete disregard for speed limits or traffic laws, his mind set on getting closer to the shore. His eyes widen as he takes in everything that’s happening with the city that’s been his home for so many years. It’s completely different seeing the chaos from above as he was doing from the chopper, and being in the middle of it as he is now. Everywhere he looks, desperation clings to people like a second skin—exhaustion in every step, despair in every glance. There are many parents clutching their children close, and the vision makes Tommy’s heart squeeze in his chest when he realizes his own child is lost and scared in the middle of it. And then, an even more unbearable thought crosses his mind: what if she’s not?

That’s too much for him. Tommy parks his truck in the middle of an unfamiliar street, eerily empty, and steps outside, his breath quickening in what he recognizes as a panic attack, the same kind he used to have back in Afghanistan, only worse. So much worse, because Tommy never feared for his life as much as he’s fearing for Vivie’s. He knows with a fierce certainty he can’t go on without her. Tommy clutches his steering wheel until his knuckles are white, and single sob wrecks through his chest. He tries - fails - to push the worst scenarios off his mind. Vivie has to be alive. Anything else is just unthinkable.

And he has to find her. He has to find his daughter, and protect her, and make sure she’s safe. Tommy takes a deep breath, inhaling for seven seconds and exhaling for five, and he swallows his panic as best as he can, pressing his nails against his palm until his hands stop trembling. He can panic later, when Vivie is safe in his arms.

Before starting his car, Tommy decides he needs a better plan of action than frantically going around the city and hoping he'll run into Genevieve. He doesn't have gas, and Vivie doesn't have time. Every second counts.

Tommy raises his phone to his ear with a trembling hand, having dialed numbers that he's used to being on the other side of.

“ 911, what's your emergency?” A sweet female voice answers.

“H-hi, this is firefighter pilot Kinard. I… I’m not on duty, but I have something important to ask.” He says, his voice trembling slightly, but he takes another deep breath to try and calm down.

“Firefighter Kinard, I'm dispatcher Maddie Buckley” The woman says, her tone professional and urgent. “You say you're not on duty, but are you safe? What can I help you with?”

“I am safe, it's… it's my daughter who's not” Tommy tells her, and he has to fight the tears that are already threatening rolling down his face as he says it out loud. “Please, if you have reports of a girl named Genevieve found amongst the survivors, can you make sure it's reported to Harbor station? She's… she's five years old”

Maddie audibly gasps on the phone, and Tommy squeezes his eyes shut, trying to tamper down his guilt and despair. They won't help him now.

“Yes, Mr. Kinard, of course. I… I imagine it won't do much good if I tell you not to go looking for her on your own?”

“It won't” He answers truthfully; there's nothing on Earth that can make him stop looking for his daughter while he has a breath left on his body.

“Then please be safe while doing so” She wishes, and Tommy feels a surge of affection for this dispatcher he doesn't know, this Maddie girl. “Is there anything else I can do to assist you?”

“Yes, actually” Tommy tells her, an idea coming to him as if whispered by some good angel. “Do you happen to know where they assembled the field hospital for the victims?”

--------

Buck is pretty sure that, if he didn’t have to put up a good front for Genevivie, he’d have crumbled in despair by now. They’ve been walking for at least an hour and he hasn’t found neither Genevieve’s uncle nor Christopher, not even a sign of them. He’s been asking around and only getting blank stares in return, or worse, pitiful ones that tell him exactly what most people think might have happened to the two of them. Christopher’s glasses are hanging from Buck’s neck, a stark reminder of just how much Buck failed the kid, and they feel like they weigh a ton. But Genevieve’s hand in his is warm, and light, and she looks up at Buck as if she’s completely sure he’ll keep her safe and take her back to her uncle.

And Buck has to honor that trust. He knows her uncle Sal is waiting for her (presuming the man is alive, which Buck fiercely hopes for), and so is her father; she didn’t mention a mother, and Buck didn’t ask.

“Mr. Evan?” She asks while they’re going through an empty street, on their way to the next group of survivors they can find, hoping against hope their people are among them.

“Yeah, Vivie?” Buck asks, his voice more strained than he’d like it to be, and he remembers that the last time he drank water was before the wave hit. His throat is sore and starting to throb just as much as his leg.

“Were you scared? When the big wave came?” She asks, her eyes wide in a mix of curiosity and lingering fear as she looks up at him. Buck shivers, remembering the dread he felt when he realized what exactly was happening to the Santa Monica pier, the blind fear he felt for Christopher. Vivie, however, continues before he can answer. “I was scared, but Uncle Sal wasn’t. He just took me and ran really fast"

“I did the same to Christopher” Buck tells her, and Vivie’s eyes widen in wonder.

“You did? So you’re brave like Uncle Sal!” Genevieve concludes, and Buck can’t help but be endeared by her logic, flawed as it was.

“I… I tried to be, but… I don’t think I was very good at it, Vivie” Buck confesses to her, and she frowns at him, her little nose turning up.

“Why not?” She asks, her innocence clear, and Buck’s heart aches in his chest.

“Because… Because I ended up losing Chris. I was supposed to keep him safe, and I lost him” Buck says, his voice breaking. He swallows hard, holding back the tears that are threatening to spill.

“Oh” Vivie says, and then looks deep in thought, before looking up at him. “But you didn’t mean to, right?”

“Of course not! I… I meant to protect him, but…” He trails off, but Vivie continues for him.

“The big wave, right? It wasn’t your fault, mr. Evan. Uncle Sal didn’t mean to lose me either, it was an accident. Like when I spilled milk all over Daddy’s puzzle. He wasn’t mad at me, because I didn’t mean to, and he said accidents happen to everyone. And that we just need to do what we can to fix it”

“So… so you don’t think Christopher’s mad at me?” Buck asks. He knows it’s a bit desperate to be asking that question to a five-year-old he just met, but he really needs some sort of reassurance right now.

“Of course he’s not!” she says, her voice rising with certainty. “I’m not mad at Uncle Sal. I still think he’s really brave. And so are you, Mr. Evan. You saved me, and you’re trying super hard to find Christopher. You’re a hero.”

It makes Buck’s chest tighten, but not in a bad way. He would never call himself a hero, not after today, and he still doesn’t think he is, but. The faith of this little child in him is like a small bubble of hope in the middle of the wreckage, and Buck will hold on to that for as long as he can.

“T… Thanks, Vivie” He tries to say without his voice breaking, and he doesn’t quite manage, but Genevieve doesn’t seem to realize the weight of what she said. “You're being pretty brave yourself, you know?”

“I know, Daddy always says so.” She says matter-of-factly, and Buck’s amazed that a five-year-old can have that sort of confidence that he doesn’t have at 28. “I’m not afraid of spiders and he is, so he always says I’m braver than him. But I don't think I'm braver than him, because I'm scared of sleeping in the dark, and he isn't. His bedroom doesn't have a nightlight like mine.”

Buck laughs for the first time in hours at that, and in different circumstances, he’d definitely want to meet Vivie’s father. There’s something fascinating about this man who builds up his daughter’s self-esteem, doesn’t get mad at her for accidents, teaches her disaster management and is also afraid of spiders (but not of the dark).

However, Buck doesn’t have time to build the puzzle that is Genevivie’s dad anymore, because they’re reaching some police officers that are patrolling the area. Buck doesn’t know them, but they might be able to help. He squeezes Vivie’s hand so she keeps up with him and jostles to them as fast as his leg allows.

“Excuse me,” He calls, and one of them turns to him. Buck can see his own exhaustion and despair reflected in the man’s eyes, and he understands what people mean by disaster solidarity now. “I… I am looking for two people. Have you passed by anyone named Sal or- or Christopher? They’re a man and a little boy…”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think so” The officer tells him, his voice filled with the sympathy Buck found in the voices of pretty much everyone they’ve crossed so far. “You… you might wanna try the triage center near the shore? They’ve built it out of a VA hospital. I heard a lot of victims are being taken there, so maybe your people are there?””

It’s the first Buck’s hearing of it, and that little bubble of hope, the one Vivie blew in his chest, grows a little. A triage center would write down names, make sure people are taken care of. It’s not much, but it’s their best chance.

“How do I get there?”

-----

Eddie is astonished. Even though he’s been to war and worked the earthquake the year before, this is still the most despairing situation he’s seen. People are coming by heaps to the triage center, in different degrees of dehydration, sheer exhaustion or worse injuries, and it’s a bit overwhelming, if he’s honest with himself. There are helicopters frantically crossing the air, and Eddie sends a silent prayer for those guys who are probably having an even harder time at work than he is.

The only upside of this, when compared to the earthquake, is that this time he doesn’t have to worry about Christopher. He knows his kid is having the time of his life and probably stuffing his face with junk food that Buck always allows him to have and making Buck stop moping around. And he’s safe. So Eddie gets to do his job with a focused mind, which is important, because it’s a pretty demanding job at the moment.

He’s just seen Bosko take off with her captain and is about to go back to patching up the wound. There is a lot of yelling around, people crying in pain, people screaming for loved ones, but one particular commotion around calls his attention.

“No, you don’t understand!” An angry sharp voice is saying. “I have to go! She’s alone out there!”

Eddie turns towards the noise to find a man with a gaze wrapped around his head fighting against two nurses. He’s a strong man, tanned skin, probably in his forties, and his eyes are widened in despair.

“Sir, you can’t just leave, you need to let us help you!” One of the nurses is saying, but the man won’t stop struggling. The bandage around his head is stained red, and he’s gripping the sheets as if he’s having a hard time to even sit up.. “You’re injured and-”

“I don’t give a damn if I’m hurt, don’t you see?! I need to find my niece, she’s five, and she’s lost in this damn mess and it’s my fault!”

Eddie’s stomach drops, and he rushes over before he can stop himself. The idea of a little girl missing tugs right at his heartstrings, making him instantly think of Christopher. As he comes closer, Eddie sizes up the situation, and he sees despair and determination in the man’s gaze, but they can’t, in good conscience, let him go. His hands are trembling and his breathing is quick and shallow, and it’s clear that he can’t go anywhere that is more than two steps away.

“Hey, hey, take it easy” Eddie says, his voice as steady and calm as he can make it, and both the man and the nurses turn to him. “Sir, my name is Eddie, I’m a firefighter, maybe I-

“Yeah, guess what, buddy? I’m a firefighter too, and I don’t care about what you have to say. I’m leaving here, and I’m finding my niece.” The man says hoarsely, and gets up from bed, his face paling as soon as his feet hit the floor.

Eddie sees it coming before it happens, and is already prepared to catch the guy when his knees buckle up from under him. He sits him back on the bed, and the man lets out a frustrated groan, shaking his head.

“I… You don’t get it, man. I have to find her.” He says, his voice breaking, and Eddie feels for him, he truly does. He sits by the man’s side, and he eyes Eddie suspiciously; Eddie’s sure he knows exactly the kind of tactics that are used to calm down those who are about to have a breakdown, but he’ll try to apply them anyway.

“What’s your name, man?” He asks, and the guy’s glare confirms to him that yes, he’s on to Eddie.

“Look, don’t give me this ‘calm down’ crap, ok? I’m not a patient” He grumbles, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Yes, you are, whether you like it or not. You hit your head pretty hard out there, dude. You won’t be any help to your niece if you pass out in the street while looking for her” Eddie reasons, and the man crosses his arms, but doesn’t argue, because he probably knows Eddie’s right. “Now, if you give me your name and your station, we can try and get some of your guys to look for her”

“It’s Deluca. I’m with the 122” He grumbles begrudgingly. “And what’s your station?”

Eddie is about to answer that he’s with the 118 when Deluca widens his eyes as if he’s seen a ghost, the little color that he’s gotten back leaving his cheeks. Eddie follows his gaze to find a man frantically looking around, dressed in a plaid shirt and with eyes as desperate as Deluca’s.

“Oh my God, why is he here?!” Deluca exclaims, and his tone is urgent.

Eddie is on alert instantly, getting up from the bed, but he doesn’t have time to react anymore. The other guy has spotted them and is coming in their direction with quick and desperate steps.

“Sal!” He exclaims, holding Deluca’s shoulders with a tight grip, looking at him intensely, his expression an uncanny mix of relief and despair. “Are you alright?! What happened?!”

“Tommy”, Deluca says desperately, his hand reaching out to grab the other man’s arm, his eyes filled with tears. “Tommy, listen to me, I am so sorry. We… S-she asked me to come to the pier, s-she said she couldn’t wait until Saturday... I s-said yes, man, you know I can never say no to that little girl… And then…”

Deluca is not able to continue, burying his face in his hands, a sob wrecking through his body. Eddie looks from him to the other man (Tommy, apparently), and sees that his face has turned pale. Tommy takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again, apparently swallowing back tears before speaking.

“Sal” Tommy says, and his tone is obviously trying to be reassuring, even though it contrasts with the trembling of his voice and the way he’s still gripping his friend’s shoulders, his knuckles turning white. “It’s not your fault, man, how could you have known a tsunami would hit?”

“How is it not my fault, Tommy?! I lost her! I was supposed to care for her, you trusted me to do it, and I lost her!” He says, and it’s clear he’s working himself to a state. Eddie, as an acting paramedic, wants to intervene before he makes himself sick, but he knows there’s no assuaging the man’s guilt until this conversation is over. He crosses his arms, watching

“Stop it, Sal, you’re not helping anyone with that. It… It was an accident” Tommy says, and then he looks at Sal with pleading eyes. “Just… Just tell me what happened, please. Did Vivie d-dro… Did she?...”

This time Tommy is the one who can’t go on, not even able to finish the sentence, his voice breaking. He lets go of Deluca’s arm and turns his gaze away, trying to fight tears by desperately shaking his head, and Eddie’s heart aches in his chest. He knows all about fearing for your kid’s life, and it’s clear this man is living through that. Deluca (Sal) apparently reaches the same conclusion, because he widens his eyes and shakes his head.

“Tommy, n-no! No! She didn’t…” Sal sighs, apparently the thought too much for him as well. Then he looks at Tommy as if he’s afraid to be punched. “When the first wave hit, I picked her up and ran as far as I could. I-I knew there’d probably be a second wave, so I made sure she was in a high spot. And I was about to join her, but then the second wave hit and I…”

Eddie can piece together what happened from that; probably Sal got caught in the second wave, his head was hit by something the water was carrying, and he lost consciousness. He’d seen the same story with dozens of people today, and Sal is very lucky to have even gotten here alive.

Tommy apparently pieced it together too, because he nods tensely, and then looks between the surrounding chaos and Sal’s exhausted expression. Then, he takes his friend’s hand in his, gripping it life a lifeline.

“You have to tell me, Sal. Was she… Was Vivie…” His voice breaks, and he needs to take a deep sigh, but he marches on. “Was Vivie alive when you separated? Was she okay ?”

“She was safe last time I saw her, Tommy, I promise.” Sal says resolutely, his eyes boring into Tommy’s. Tommy’s shoulders sag in relief for all of two seconds before he’s tense again.

“T-that’s good, but that has to have been hours ago, doesn’t it?” He asks, and they both turn to Eddie, who’s surprised they even remember he was here.

“I… I am sorry, I didn’t see when mr. Deluca was brought in.” Eddie tells them, hating himself for not being able to be more useful, but he doesn’t even know how the field hospital is operating, he’s just a helping hand. “You… you could look for the people in charge of the hospital, they… They might know if your child was brought in by someone else?...”

“I’ll go with you” Sal states, and he’s stubbornly trying to get up again. Eddie is about to tell him to stop being an idiot, but Tommy beats him to it.

“No, you won’t” Tommy says, pushing him to sit back down. “You’re hurt, and you probably have a concussion, and I cannot be worrying about you and Vivie at the same time.”

He says it very matter-of-factly, and Eddie can see there’s no resentment, only practicality. But it’s enough to make Sal’s face twist in guilt again, and he nods resignedly.

“You’re right. You’re right, I shouldn’t get in your way.” He says, his voice more subdued than Eddie’s heard so far. “I’ve caused enough problems as it is, Tommy. I… I know I said it before, but I can’t say I’m sorry enough.”

Tommy seems to realize his words were taken in the wrong way, because now his face is the one that bears guilt. But instead of saying something, he wraps his arms around Sal’s frame gently, giving him a tight hug.

“Hey, stop. This was a natural disaster, Sal. And Vivie is out there, and it sucks, and I’m beside myself with worry. But it’s not your fault, I’ll say it every time you say you’re sorry.” He declares, patting Sal’s back. “I’ll go and find her, and she’ll be fine. She has to be fine. And then I’ll bring her straight here to see her favorite uncle.”

Sal nods, patting Tommy’s back before letting go of him, looking at his friend with his eyes filled with tears. Eddie can see their bond is special, something similar to what he has with Buck, and that they would do anything for each other.

“Good luck out there, Tommy. Find our girl” Sal pleads, and Tommy nods resolutely, then he turns to Eddie.

“Do you know where I can find the person in charge?” He asks, and Eddie looks around trying to find the woman with the board. When he finds her, he points in her direction.

“Oh, yeah, she’s right th-” Eddie cuts himself short, and barely registers Tommy running to where he pointed. His stomach drops to his knees, his heart beats fast in his chest, and his thoughts screech to a halt.

Because, in the opposite direction to where he directed Tommy, he spots Buck. Buck who’s dirty, and covered in blood, and with Christopher’s glasses around his neck . And he has a child in his arms, a little child who’s definitely not Christopher. And Christopher? Eddie’s beautiful eight-year-old son? Nowhere to be seen.

And all of a sudden Eddie understands exactly how Tommy feels.

------

Tag list:

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter

@typicalopposite @littlepaws9 @aplaceinme @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21

@dearqueend @laundryandtaxesworld @buckleyskinards @actuallyitsellie

@agentpeggycartering @chaoticdisasterbi

@deelovesbooks @teabroomsandbooks @hummelinski

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #gabby writes #tsunami fic #life is changin' tides #eddie diaz #sal deluca #genevieve kinard

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honestsycrets · 2 years ago

Text

Neglection [Ivar x Healer!Reader, Past!Hvitserk x Reader]

❛ pairing | ivar x reader, past!hvitserk x reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | touched with eir's healing powers, it's your custom to care for the great heathen army. ivar doesn't appreciate the order you care for others in.

❛ tags | NSFW, non-graphic mention of ivar's wound, healer!reader, blind!reader, religious references, past!hvitserk x reader, heavily jealous!ivar, jealousy.

❛ sy’s notes | forgive the looseness of this piece, i'm attempting to complete random freewrites to get into producing more works.

Stubborn, that was how you would define Ivar. Even if he was one of the commanders of the Great Heathen Army, he was also as stubborn as a mule. Pain, he claimed, was one of his deepest allies. He was surrounded by it from birth.

“Ivar,” you trilled, coming into the great church where Ivar set up his base. “Ivar-- are you here?”

You tiptoed past sleeping comrades holding the bottom of your skirts, prancing over a viking’s sleeping body, egged on by the nagging urge to chase your injured commander. His rich scent filled your nostrils: blood and breaks, smoke and honey. His slight huffs of pain, slight as they were, led you to this room.

“Commander?”

“Hush,” came the snapping reply. “My brothers are sleeping.”

Your foot bumped against cold stone steps. “Where are you?”

“You’re close.”

The night was always a trying time for finding the right man. Ivar’s thick candle, flickering in the moonlight, casted little light by which you could guide yourself through the large room. You climbed over the heavy steps by sliding your feet slowly over the stone floor. Then, bumped into another body.

“Ivar?”

There was no answer. You bend at the knees and casted your fingers over the crumpled body on the floor. It wasn’t right-- no, his sides were too narrow. His hair in long braids. And when he moaned, your ears were full with a gruff but inviting voice. “Prince Hvitserk,” you mumbled.

“Yes, Prince Hvitserk,” Ivar chided. “You always loved Hvitserk.”

You left his side with the assumption that Ubbe would be sleeping close by. Wherever Hvitserk was, Ubbe was. You knew that. Bjorn wouldn’t be in this room-- he was keeping watch tonight. “I don’t choose who to heal first, Ivar. The goddesses do.”

“You can lie better than that.”

“Please don’t mock me, Ivar. I just want you to be safe--”

“Safe?” He hummed. “I’m not interested in being ‘safe’, my sweet.”

Sweet, you flushed. You hoped that the bright light wouldn’t illuminate your cheeks, flush with embarrassment. Then again, you would never know. “You’re blushing, hm, do you like that?”

“That’s enough. Just come to me.”

“Why should I? If memory is escaping you,” he bit out. His voice clear, filling your ears with dizzying certainty. He really was close. “I was shot in the thigh. Find me yourself.”

Seconds later, your knees collided with a great wooden chair. Then betrayed you. You fell forward and caught yourself by slamming your hand down on a firm, but fleshy surface “Gods!” he shouted.

“By Eir!” you snapped back, hands flailing to find the proper wooden surface. “My Ivar, I’m--”

“Sorry, yes, I know. Congratulations, you’ve found me. Now get on with it.”

“On-- on with it?”

“Did you not come here to heal it?” he asked. In the hazy field of your vision, you knew he was scrutinizing you. You ran your hand over your long skirt, smoothing it down. Whatever he was staring at, be it your thick braid over your shoulder or the dry blood caked over your hands from a long day of work, you weren’t sure. “Or are those magical hands only for Hvitserk?”

“Why do you insist on Hvitserk?”

His head, angled toward his brother, snapped to you. “Given how much time you spend with him--”

His body tensed. Your fingers ghosted the scratchy fabric of his pants, still splattered with blood, and you realized he too hadn’t washed down. You hovered over the wound, the place where his scent originated from.

“I do not.”

“You only serve him breakfast and dinner,” he spat to the side again, stiffening as you moved up to loosen his belt. His hand snapped to your wrist, grip crushing the bone. You lifted your head to him, coming close enough that you could make something out of the face you once knew.

“Don’t do that.”

“I need a clear working area. It isn’t as if I can see your…” you snaked your hand away from his grip to try and loosen his pants again. He snapped his head one way, then another, watching as you kneeled between his legs. He remained silent as you slid his pants down his thin legs to his ankles.

“You’ve seen Hvitserk’s,” he huffed under his breath.

“How many times do I need to tell you? I’ve not been with him. For years,” you searched through your bag for the right essentials. Yes, another healer had cleaned the area on your request-- but it wasn’t done to your liking. The cloth was loose, the area unpurified. “I don’t even remember what he felt like.” You mumbled.

Ivar’s lips parted with a slight smack. He was wordless for an instant, his head shifting to face his brother. “He was that… immemorable?”

The air was thick. He, curious. You, exhausted. Ivar’s large arms turned one over another. He twitched his thick muscular thighs as if to urge a response from you. Your hand came over his firm muscles to keep him in place.

“We were so young. Ubbe was training him,” you said, cleaning the area with a soaked cloth. When you bumped into him, the wound oozed. Your lips pursed and you would blow soft air over his thigh which caused his muscles to tighten. “Besides, I don’t remember much from before Eir took my sight, Ivar. Only the small memories we shared.”

“But not the dick,” he laughed. Your fingertips swatted the side of his thigh.

In your mortar, you mixed a mixture of herbs that he only recognized from his mother’s witchery cabinet to soothe his aches. Your lips moved in the strangest of prayers, sanctifying the blend to aid in his healing and pain. Then you slathered it on his thigh, tingles ripping through his thigh to his spine. He wasn’t sure if the mixture or your lips healed the soreness, sweeping over his thigh with a soft kiss. He trembled.

“You have nothing to be anxious about.”

“Hm?”

You lifted his thigh, drawing the bandage in sturdy loops around his thigh. Then, securing it in place, removed his musty pants and boots. It took a moment to locate his other pants. Ivar took them and drew them on, clicking his tongue against the roof of his tongue to urge you on. “I don’t want to be his.”

“Then whose?”

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you were aware of what he was about to say. Though you couldn’t see, you could feel. Feel the intensity of Ivar’s presence, his eyes following you around camp, his endless neediness. His hand shot out and snatched the cords of your dress. You knew you shouldn’t have worn his dress to deal with Ivar. There was no way to unpeel his strong grip from your cords by will alone.

“Be mine.”

There were certain things that you knew the gods wanted. Healing of their finest warriors, the mitigation of pain, and hard workers. Your eyes, glazed as they were, served only to be a liability. To a man like Ivar-- your hands connected with his naked shoulders. His muscles enticed you-- far-- far too well. It had been years since you last had a man. Perhaps, in part, due to Ivar’s consistent scowls and glares.

“I can’t, I-- I swore to Eir,” you murmured. Though the words came of your lips, they did not convince you. You traveled his sturdy shoulders to his neck, then his jaw-- peppered with stubble. God, he knew what the sensation did to you with waves of excitement dancing over your skin. You weren’t convincing anyone.

“What does she care? Does she demand some silly Christian oath?”

“No, but I--” He grasped your backside, pulling up the skirts over your knees. Then, jerked you onto the throne with legs on either side of his own. His voice softened into a soft honey-like hum, rivaling the soft slick that gathered between your legs. “Let me convince you otherwise, hm?”

“Hvitserk is here.”

“Forget him.” Ivar coursed his hand underneath your skirts. It was frustrating how often he could not listen. You could tell Ivar that the sky was blue and he’d debate you! With his calloused fingers guiding there way to the junction of your legs and pelvis, you knew there was nothing that you could tell him. No, nothing that you wanted to tell him, that would change this. Even with your complaining, you longed for the attention. It had been years.

Ivar inhaled air as he brushed your vulva, dancing his thumb across your neglected lips. He slid between the slit, parting your lips with ginger care. It was nearly embarrassing how easy it was for Ivar, running the pad of his thumb up and down. “See? You want me.”

You wracked your mind for the last time this had happened. The last time a man had his eye on you-- oh, but you remembered, the night you lost your vision. Hvitserk-- whose kind heart soothed your grief-- warmed your body to comfort you. As you traced the memory, the ache of his absence panged strangely in your heart. Oh, how easy a man’s heart was to sway.

“Focus on me,” Ivar sank his fingers into your warm cunt. Your hips shifted in response, flush against his chest, breasts in his face. Your body tensed around his fingers to keep him in place. Ivar wasn’t the sort of man to be held back. Not by a pathetic cry, no. He was guided by the things he was passionate about. “Good--”

“Please, Ivar, I’ve not--” he curled his fingers, massaging your walls as you hadn’t in years. It was warm, wonderful. His other hand came to your front, massaging a soft spot that only one other had. He rolled in the softest of rhythms, circling purposefully slow. Then quick. The pleasure bloomed-- the ugliest of flowers that you told yourself you wouldn’t have again. That you would devote yourself to Eir, swear off all thoughts of lust and love. All at once, Ivar stopped. He drew his fingers back from massaging your soaked walls and flicked your clit with a soft laugh.

“So?”

“No,” you lowered your hips, yipping as you settled against the bulge between Ivar’s legs. “I should-- I should go.”

“Then go.”

You didn’t move. No, your hands were knit to Ivar’s shoulders like thread and cloth.

"That is what I thought." You felt frozen in place even as he pulled himself free of his pants and fondled his shaft. The tip of his cock eased along your lips: forward, backward, and forward again.

“If you stay,” Ivar breathed, slapping his cock against your mound. His breath was warm against your chest, urging you to slide your chest against his. Oh, you knew you were doomed. The memory of sex was all too enticing. Your body clenched, aching at the memory of how it felt. “I won’t let you go.”

And though he said that, you reached between your legs and lined the warm head of his cock with your aching hole. He snapped your hips down an instant later, his wide grin widening with every bit of his cock that filled your core. Your fingers cringed on his shoulders as he seated himself comfortably in your cunt. Your lips parted, shaking loose noises that you knew would wake up his brothers.

“Hush,” he leaned in, rocking his hips despite the pain wracking up his thigh. Your hips shifted, rolling down along his cock alone. He didn’t even have to move, no, you were too happy to do this on your own. His thumb found your nub again, spazzing along the little button as you rode him. You missed how it felt: how his warm words filled your soul with bliss, and his dick filled the places you didn’t know needed to be filled. It was what Ivar did-- with his voice, as desirable and silky as honey.

It ruptured a hole straight through you. Blossoming low in your belly, the pleasure ripped through your cunt. Your body clamped on his, working his orgasm free. He seized your chin, aiming it toward him. And though your unseeing eyes could only see the shadows of his face, your mind was scarred by the memory of his haughty eyes and the bob and weave of his head. You didn't need to see to know what he was about to say next. “You’re mine.”

You were wrong for this. But it was too late to take it back.

#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #vikings imagine #viking imagine #ivar ragnarsson x reader

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bluestar22x · 3 months ago

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Finding Eden: Chapter 7

Summary: Back on the path to Eden, you and Zach run into danger once again

Pairing: Zach Wellison x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Smut, fowl language

Word Count: 2,100(ish)

Author’s Note: A little on the short side, but next chapter will probably be quite long so I'm good with this

xxx

Spring weather thankfully arrived early. By the end of March the snow was mostly melted except for a few stubborn piles that had been shielded from direct sunlight by stands of evergreen trees.

It made traversing the forest a whole lot easier, and put Zach in a better mood, but it didn't seem to affect you much.

You'd been different since leaving the cabin. Quieter. Your mood was more easy to sour; your laughter far less frequent. The lack of your laughter bothered him most, for a selfish reason. He loved hearing it.

He hadn't fully realized how much the cabin had meant to you until seeing the results of abandoning it. There had been no real choice left but to go, but it still made him regretful about it.

He fully understood why it had meant so much to you, having felt the same about the apartment he briefly lived in after getting off the streets. Having a roof over your head after not having it for a long time, it was important.

He hoped that Eden would be your last home. Yours and his. That you'd both be able to have stability again. Know that a roof would always be over your heads.

You just needed to get there safely first, despite whatever the forest had in store.

A reminder of the risks you could face trying to get there came in the form of a few muddy paw prints Zach found by a river you were getting ready to cross in early April.

Prints without evidence of claws, ones that definitely weren't canine shaped but were large all the same.

"What'd you find?" you asked when you noticed him squatting to examine the paw prints more closely.

"Cougar tracks," he replied with certainty. "Saw these plenty back when I was living in my trailer. Never saw one in person, but then most people don't until it's too late."

"Comforting," you muttered.

"As long as we stick together it won't attack us," Zach assured you. "They are loners. Even when they are desperate enough to go after a human, they usually will only pounce on someone alone, someone walking or riding a bike too close to their hiding spot. They're ambush predators."

You smirked a little, unable to help yourself. "You sound like the narrator for a nature program on Animal Planet. Pretty sure I watched that one too. I remember an episode of some show talking about a woman who was pounced on by a cougar while riding her bike, I think. Scared me out of jogging in the mornings even though I'd never heard of people seeing them near my town."

"Yeah, I might have seen that one too," Zach said, checking his shotgun out to make sure there were bullets loaded in it.

You frowned and he shrugged when he caught your reaction. "Better safe than sorry."

He crossed the river with the gun safely out of the water with you trailing only a few steps behind. The water was still ice cold, but it was only knee deep where you passed, so it wasn't too awful to do it.

You were both wary even after you got to the other side, but it wore off once morning arrived the next day, figuring you'd put enough miles between you and the big cat.

Though even if you had, there were other predators to worry about. Wolves, coyotes, foxes. However, for some reason bear hadn't been on Zach's bingo card until one lumbered out of the forest not more than seven yards from you and him, blocking your way forward on the deer trail you’d been following.

It was still a fairly young black bear, being just over two years old, judging by its lack of body fat, but it was still a good size, maybe one hundred and fifty pounds. Enough to take down a grown man if necessary, and near enough that a non-lethal shot could mean the bear could have a chance to ruthlessly maul him to death. At least that's what Zach guessed. He knew black bears weren't as aggressive as brown bears, but he didn't want to find out if a bullet would kill it or just piss it off.

He swapped his shotgun for his handgun and spread his arms wide, trying to look as big as possible when the bear turned to face you both.

Your breath caught as the animal took a step towards you and Zach took a step towards him, trying to look confident, though you could see worry lines around his eyes. Rightfully so. You were horrified by his choice of action.

"Get out of here, bear!" he commanded. "Don't fuckin' cause any trouble! Go on! Scram!"

The adolescent bear paused, as if he was carefully analyzing Zach. You could've sworn there was a spark of curiosity in his dark eyes.

He roared at Zach, but Zach knew better than to let it get to him. Black bears didn't like to attack aggressive animals. You knew that standing up to the bear was the safest way to get out of the situation you were all in, but it didn't mean you had to like it.

At least Athena's confrontational instincts were helpful in the situation. She stood rigidly beside Zach and barked fiercely at the mass of muscle and fur before her, the hair on her back sticking straight up and her canines flashing stark white, contrasting perfectly against her dark muzzle.

The young bear hesitated, backed up a few steps even, surprised by the challenge. There wasn't much in a North American forest that would choose to fight instead of flee from a bear, even one as small as he was.

Zach and Athena stomped forward, putting on the pressure for him to leave, and the bear turned and rushed off in the direction he'd came from, eager to put distance between them, with no care that he was backtracking.

The sight of the unbelievably speedy animal's rump disappearing into the forest elicited relieved exhales from you and Zach, even as Athena kept on growling threateningly after the creature.

You pressed a hand against your chest, trying to calm your thundering heart as Zach faced you.

"At least it wasn't a mama bear," he said and you stared at him incredulously.

"That's what you have to say after THAT?"

"It seems dumb, but that's how you're supposed to chase off black bears," Zach informed you. "Curling into a ball only works with the brown bears, and only sometimes."

"I know that," you told him. "And curling into a ball is even worst, but you could've shot it."

"He might have mauled me to death if it wasn't lethal," Zach explained. "Played my odds."

"It wasn't another spare-the-animal thing?" you inquired, hand on hip and a disapproving expression on your face.

He shook his head. "I swear it wasn't."

You frowned. "I still think it was crazy to do."

"Crazy is as crazy does."

That earned a grin from you, and that response compelled him to kiss you, the thrill of the moment getting to him.

Both running on adrenaline, it didn't take much for the kiss to become heated, for Zach to get caught up in the rush and shove you up against the trunk of the tall western red cedar tree behind you more roughly than he'd intended.

Luckily, your spring jacket padded you from the impact and protected you from the bark scraping against your skin, leaving you nothing but a little breathless, and it seemed that was mostly because of everything that had happened before rather than that particular action, judging by the way you were eagerly dragging him closer to you by his belt, then removing it. You had his pants pushed down to his knees before he could even start working on the button of your jeans. It was a complete frenzy to bare yourselves just enough, and then he was sheathed inside you, and you had one knee hitched up around his hip urging him on, as much as your pants would allow with the item still around your ankles.

The spring air was still kinda nippy for any amount of exposed skin, but neither of you cared, too immersed in what you were both doing with each other. Zach's heart felt like it wanted to burst out of his chest with every beat, every wild snap of his hips into you. He did it without restraint, knowing you didn't mind him taking you this way, enjoyed it even, loving when him filling you up felt intense.

Your sweet moans, the way you sought out his mouth after every jolt, confirmed it, and those sounds made his thighs quiver. God, he loved the noises you made. You weren't afraid to let him know how it felt to you, and he wasn't either.

"Feel so fuckin' good, baby," he grunted into your ear, the painful throbbing of his cock making him desperate for your release. "Want to see you come. Feel it. Are you close?"

You nodded quickly and sharply breathed out, "Yes, yes, just a little more."

You fought to keep your eyes open, watching his face as you began to flutter around him, and your expression combined with the way your fingers at the back of his head dug into his scalp, almost did him in.

It took all his remaining strength to hold out until you were crying out his name, body seizing uncontrollably in his arms.

And it took every ounce of willpower he had left for Zach not to cave to the primal impulse he had to linger inside you as he peaked with a low groan, slipping out of you just in time to lose his load on the moss covered stone at his feet.

As the euphoric after effects took hold, he laved at your neck affectionately, trying to put into physical action what words failed to express.

I love you, simply wasn't enough. Nor was I need you. He could say it until he was blue in the face and he still wouldn't be content.

He'd spent years of his adult life alone and eventually homeless, shamed and treated like trash for being unable to keep a job due to his PTSD after the war that he'd forgotten what it felt like to be needed and wanted. Until you. He'd had some friends who'd helped him before, but it wasn't until you that part had truly changed. It felt good to be someone's most important person. To belong to someone. Not in an ownership sense, but in a place-in-the-world sense. Being with you felt like the rightest thing in the world.

On some days, maybe the only right thing in the world.

He didn't know if this was coming across in how he kissed you, touched you, either, but he could damn sure try.

He thought he was making a good attempt until the exhilaration from your climax set in and you started laughing. "Holy fuck, that was good."

"I should scare bears off more often," Zach agreed, nibbling at your ear, breathing still uneven, though his heart was a lot more calm.

"Hell no!" you protested with a hiss. "That shit was terrifying. I forbid you from doing that again."

He sighed heavily and pretended to be disappointed even though he definitely wasn't planning on getting himself into that situation again, no matter how tempting the reason.

"Fine."

It was then you glanced past him and a look of embarrassment crossed your face, the emotion causing you to avert your eyes.

"Oh so now you're getting shy on me again?" Zach teased.

"Athena's behind you," you murmured. "Pretty sure she's been watching the entire time."

"Probably trying to figure out what kind of play that was."

"Zach!" You slapped him on the chest and he chuckled.

"Not like she's going to tell anyone," he figured. "I'm just glad she didn't see my naked ass and decide to put her nose up it mid thrust."

You gaped at him but the shock soon transformed into a lighter expression as you started giggling. "You are ridiculous."

He beamed at you, grateful to see his crude humor reach you, and shrugged. "Eh, I've been called worst."

He then pulled his pants back up and helped you do the same with yours before gathering the supplies you'd both dumped in the craze to expose yourselves, ready to keep going now that he'd calmed down.

You gave him a small, but warm smile, and took a turn leading the way north.

xxx

Tagged: @musings-of-a-rose @harriedandharassed @love-affair-with-fandoms @captain-jebi @copperhalfcent

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#Zach Wellison Fanfic (Mine)#Brothers & Sisters Fanfic #X Reader #Finding Eden Series

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apeninastory · 5 months ago

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ivan as a tragic-love character (pt.4b?)

first post HERE. i have been writing this thing since nowhere came out - 3 times listening to it and i was hooked and obsessed and you can't even imagine how much i'm dying to listen to it again.

anyway. wanted to get the preparatory posts out of the way before nowhere comes out again, so here, take part 2.

it was getting too long, so i split it. let's get going!

6] the making of ivan's character - a story by ivan

so, ivan as a social being functions thanks to his mimetic strategy, and with this, he starts to learn things on his own, of course. he probably puts labels on his emotions, one at a time, the more he experience and feels like he understands them. it's just that not all of them are correctly intended. let me underline this: ivan learns abt emotions from little kids, aliens, (alien? human?) classic literature, and absorbs it all through his own perception and understanding of them. no one tells him "this is right, this is wrong" (or those who do may not be super reliable?) + he is numb to most sensations, so not even the way he perceives them can be fully trusted in his learning process.

being unable to completely comprehend what he feels since he has no reliable models/source material, he can only: (1) trust what he does have and label his emotions accordingly, categorizing for examples things like friendship, satisfaction, hunger, vitality, tiredness, fear as "easy" to recognize, as monolitic and unchangable sensations following certain events/actions/reactions (2) stare at what he doesn't find in his "manuals" until it either goes away or becomes comprehensible or (3) he has to coexist with the unfathomable emotions and his inability to fully understand it, disassembling it slowly.

consequences: (1) emotions he has labelled are reliable only partially, as they may be more complex than he believes, so he files other traits under different labels without realizing that many feelings comes with multifaceted elements - so what he knows is not necessarily wrong, but may be incomplete. (2) what he doesn't understand elicits frustration, so he either misplace the emotions in his labelled list in his haste to categorize them or just... lets the be and avoids situations where he is forced to confront them (his rhetoric must be terribly good to fend off emotional attacks! i can see that in him). i kinda like this latter possibility better, maybe as an unconscious mechanism of ivan's part. (3) he is attracted by the idea of decomposing certain emotions he doesn't understand, even if it is not a pleasing experience.

all this makes ivan super good at reading the room, perceiving shifts in mood and behaving accordingly. it derives from his survival instincts + everything he learned to better adapt and survive at anakt. ivan is to me someone who prefers and is good at being in control/having control over himself and what surrounds him - not necessarily in a i-want-to-control-people-around-me way, but like, he wants to be sure that whatever surrounds him (people, things, event) has no secrets for him. he may have a... superiority complex of sort (?) derived by the total lack of control he had when he lived in the slums. the better control he has over things that influence him, the more stability he can achieve.

the art vivimeng posted abt ivan and sua's interaction, with ivan laughing at sua for being as twisted as he is and becoming a trauma for mizi? yeah. he talks as if he has it all figured out (and he is right, there is logic in predicting how sua's sacrifices will end up being a burden for mizi, in his eyes), but we are meant to perceive more. ivan affirming this with such certainty might mean he needs the affirmation, like he is rebuking sua out of spite for something - envy for being at the receiving end of mizi's affection the way he'll never be with till? mh. and of course, we know what he'll end up doing because it's different for him, since till won't miss him.

BOY.

ivan is a subtle, manipulative-freak with slight drama queen tendencies (only regarding more superficial, known-to-him emotions - the rest, he bottles them up reaaal good), so he carefully build his own character. a boy with a tactical, handsome smile, great student, good at everything, a bit annoying but funny to be around, diligent and a teaser, with big-brother vibes. someone who can be perceived as popular in anakt and can easily attract attention outside, a benefit for unsha's investment on him.

the facade works like a wonder - though, not on sua and till, in different ways. sua sees through it, and ivan feels they are similar, so it makes sense that it doesn't work on her. till ignores it and finds ivan unsufferable, probably prefers when ivan doesn't pretend, since he remembers how freaky he was as a child. we know they both enjoy the quite moments with no fights between them, something ivan thought of as one-sided, but it confirms that till likes (not intended in romantic ways) ivan when he stops being annoying and calculative, possibly kinda likes having him around and considers him a friend of sort - albeit a strange one.

ivan isn't quite aware of that, so he probably tries his hardest with till, and the way he is often seen orbiting around him tells us ivan knows that till at least tolerates his presence. after mizi, ivan is the one till grades with the hightest percentage among the people close to him, so even if ivan doesn't fully understand till and what he feels, till still regards him as a friend.

all the way through graduation, ivan cultivates his emotions, both fake and authentic ones. but as we can expect, this is bound to leave holes and discordances in this narrative he writes/lets others write for him.

friendship. he gets good at it, being a good people-reader, but many kids say they don't know much abt ivan. he probably is that type of friend that doesn't share abt himself, so people have the illusion that he is friendly and open and approachable, but when they think abt it, they don't know much abt him at all. ivan himself is surprised to be addressed as "the popular one", saying "it's a first" in his interview, and that he is getting used to the attention. he also says that back in anakt

I've been asked out a couple of times, but I wasn't that popular. I did have a lot of friends, though.

appearance. he is the one with the beautiful smile, but compliments regarding his appearance are strange to him. he doesn't rely on his charm, since "he thinks he has more flaws (ahah)", but instead studies abt the brand he has to work for - again, studying, reaching out for clear models, mimicking and replicating. conclusion: my baby is stunning and not even he can argue against me abt this.

love. he sees till loving mizi from afar and does the same with him, but his nature is far more obsessive and needy, so he orbits closely around till, who fails to understand what ivan's intentions are. and how could it be otherwise? ivan is unclear abt his own feelings without being able to address the existence of that unclearness (or not totally), so it is hard for him to convey them to others (you can't explain what you don't understand/don't know), let alone till, who's incredibly dense and biased (with reasons!) when it comes to ivan.

love pt.2. i've always found it curious that ivan doesn't mention love in black sorrow (i think someone hypothesized he may have not written the lyrics), since we can see how that sorrow may be intertwined with love. also, love is the most stereotypical of the labels he probably came across, and i guess he must have attached it to till, at some point. i can imagine ivan asking himself "what is love?" and looking for clues around him. growing up, he sees kisses, relays to till that everyone is doing that and he wants to try - half teasing, half curious himself, probably.

understanding of himself. he is naturally detatched. he mocks sua for her intentions toward mizi, but the moment he realizes (by observing and imitating) that what she has arouses envy in him, he probably understands he wants the same. he looks at mizi and sua being happy and wants that - though maybe he feels like he is not able to produce the same feeling within himself. does he understand that what he feels is envy? that he desires till's love? probably, but not totally. he acts like he has it all figured out and mouths poor sua for something he'll end up doing too. first step toward hypocrisy.

understanding of himself pt2. what i love abt his character is that despite this whiny, clingy self he decided to role as, he is incredibly closed off abt his emotions - i am very similar, as i tend to voice little things i find annoying and whine abt random stuff but gatekeep deeper, far more problematic emotions. his portray of himself is flawed - either because he can't look at himself objectively, he mistakes people's intentions/feelings toward him or is unaware of certain things. no matter where we put the origin of this, ivan can't be relied upon when he speaks abt himself.

7] the meteor shower thing and how it is a turning point in ivan's narrative

this is such a pivotal moment in kid-ivan's life.

imagine him training his smiles and trying to be more sociable and studying hard because that's what he needs to do to survive at anakt. imagine till being one of the first spontaneous, not-survival-related thing ivan wants for himself and trying to understand how to please till in order to become closer.

he sees till's struggle, his need for freedom, his fighting spirit against injustice. little ivan would have loved someone like him in the slums - a curageous hero, unafraid to vent and rebel, who could lift their sleeping, numbed spirits. till would have probably drawn more harm than good, though, and ivan probably finds him stupid and reckless, totally unable to be relied upon and ensure his own survival, so his days must be numbered, right? how can someone like till even exists in their world? either his light will stop shining or he'll die in an explosion so bright, he'll be forever remembered.

ivan can't help but be intrigued, so he follows till around. baits him into an alien's den and just can't stop looking at till's light. till is just like the meteors he saw when he was taken - he burns, he falls, all in repeat. beautiful.

so he offers till what he thinks till wants - a life far from the pain of anakt, far from fake walls and experiements and forced singing. a life where till can burn and fall to his own accord, a life full of stars, just like the metors witnessing their escape. did he know there would be a meteor shower? maybe that's what he wanted to do - share with till his most precious memory. sometimes i wonder if ivan had to prepare for a long time to make it happen - he probably studied the pattern of guards patroling and looked for safe exits and such, right? do you think he was something like hopeful the entire time, imagining how it would be?

i wanna kms

till rejects it. no hard blame on him *refrain from delving into till's character, hanji, refrain*, but what a hard blow must have been for ivan. maybe a part of him knew it'd end like that - depending on how much he had already figured abt till's kind personality.

ivan almost had him, but he slipped away. till's reaction makes sense to him, probably - why trade the total unknown, the instability ivan knows comes from living on the streets for something secure, even if fake and temporary? there is no guarantee they'll make it out there, either. beside, why would till want to stay with ivan? it all makes sense.

(NO BABY NO IT DOESN'T I'D RUN AWAY WITH YOU TO THE END OF THE EARTH)

but he can't help feeling resentful and angry and disappointed and sad. that's human, even if he doesn't understand completely, even if he thinks it doesn't make sense for him to feel negative abt till's reaction, given what rationality tells him. escaping without till makes no sense for him, either - escaping was for till, not for himself.

this is where the dissonance is rooted.

"ivan" splits in two: on one hand we have the character he has built for himself. on the other, the raw, unknown and unlabelled emotions he thinks he has under control/understands. love is the most emblematic, for us. in ivan's mind, love is the devotion in sua's eyes when she looks at mizi, mizi's blinding smile when she sings and play with sua, till's longing and artistic inspiration stemming from mizi. he observes and mimics and tries to be part of it all.

he does watch till from afar, but can't completely imitate till as he forces his presence in till's space far too often to abide to till's awkward circling around mizi.

his emotion is as twisted as sua's, who wants to gatekeep mizi for herself, but not as soft and innocent as her gaze on mizi. there is something darker and crueller and more violent and obsessive under ivan's controlled affection, something that is psychologically normal, given what he went through, but that fits none of ivan's labels and definitions.

after all, love is pure and light and vessel of beautiful and positive things. although what he feels for till partly adapts to what love is, it is not only that. it's more, it's less, it's bigger, it's hard to convey.

8] hypocrisy and how ivan signed his own emotional doom without really being aware of it

the dissonance grows, even if he doesn't actively address it. he probably forces it down, tells himself "let it be, just go on", like he did a million times in the slums in orderd to survive. it is a well-oiled mechanism. but he has grown comfy in his new life - a life where he doesn't actively have to fend off dangers, since they are inevitable but controlled, so he has time to think and desire.

Realising he loves till probably wasn't immediate - the feeling is there, it's unnamed, and I wonder if Ivan eagerly put the label on it or not (was he relieved? or was he burdened byt it? maybe a bit of both - like, "i am capable of love, but in this environment, where will this lead me?"), and how long it took. from his anakt profile, we know he dislikes ignorance and rudeness (he is so composed, when he has to play his role in society, so aware of what he has to do, so how could he not?), but we can find these traits in till - so it's not (only) that he dislikes them, these traits frustrate him because despite not liking them, they are part of a person he has deep affecton for. again, hypocrisy.

After the meteor shower, nurturing something that maybe was already there, the feeling grows with the dissonance, and with love comes hate. i like the idea of him (usually so in control) unconsciously taking his frustration out on sua in that scene where he accuses her of becoming a trauma for future-mizi, while silently, he wonders what will be of him and till if they will have to face each other.

PART 3

#alnst #alnst ivan #character analysis #fangirling and analysis #alien stage #analyzing ivan for the sake of nowhere #sorry i don't know if this will stop anytime soon #i have a plan tho

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fanfictionstuff · 6 months ago

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Amaimon x Student 15

I'm working on the next chapter of Forbidden Taste of You. But then I had an idea for this and had to write it down, the idea extended into a new chapter lmao

“I told you, she will get married a few months after she graduates high school, which is just a few months away. You agreed to leave her alone.” Mephisto deliberately avoids meeting your gaze as he speaks, aware that locking eyes with you might provoke Amaimon's rage.

“She’s mine. I will kill them if they touch her.”

“Just like you did with the exorcist in Takaoka?” Mephisto frowns. “Amaimon, if you keep killing exorcists, I will send you back to Gehenna.”

“He threatened to harm her.”

Mephisto sighs, “Amaimon, I will find you a different woman. Let’s go.”

Your stomach drops. Amaimon talks incessantly about his ownership over you and seems genuinely interested. You never considered other women, but with how beautiful he is, how perfect he is, it’ll be no problem for him to find someone who matches his level. Once again, you feel as if you've been yanked from a fantasy, and it stings. You fight back the tears welling up, struggling to suppress the pressure in your face that comes just before you cry.

“I don’t want a random whore. I want my pet.”

Mephisto tries again. “Are you sure? Haven’t you seen Assiah? There are women who are far more beautiful and experienced, women who can offer you much greater pleasure.” Mephisto feels a slight pang of guilt as he observes the realization wash over your face. However, it's better to end this sooner rather than later.

“Okay.”

“So, you’ll leave Miss _____ alone?”

“No. You can take pleasure in the other women. I only want my pet.”

Mephisto grits his teeth, reluctant to do this to you, but it’s necessary to make the Earth King lose interest. “Amaimon, she is in love with you.”

“No, I’m-“

“I know. She’s the perfect pet. She’ll love me and only me.”

Mephisto makes another attempt. "Amaimon, she must marry a powerful exorcist and start a family within two years. Please stop being difficult.”

“A powerful exorcist? So, she needs to have children with someone powerful to create powerful offspring?”

“Exactly.”

Amaimon smirks, and Mephisto recognizes his mistake. “Our offspring will surpass any she could have with another human.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief, but Mephisto swiftly shatters any flickering hopes that begin to form in your mind. “He’s lying,” he asserts with certainty. “It’s a common trait among us demons to deceive. The truth is, he doesn’t desire children with you; you’re merely a pet to him, an object for his own pleasure. In his eyes, you hold no value. You deserve more than this," he states calmly. "You have worth that Amaimon refuses to acknowledge. Believe in yourself; one day, you will find someone who will cherish you for who you truly are.”

“Shut up!” You snap. “I know, okay? I’m tired of hearing it from my friends; I don’t care to hear it from you either. I’m not a fucking idiot. Do you really think I’m just living in some foolish daydream, believing he’s in love with me?” Sure, you want to live in a fantasy you’ve built, but even in your fantasy, you’re not stupid enough to ever think he might love you. “I don’t care. You say I’ll meet someone who cherishes me? Did you forget that you just mentioned I’m supposed to be married to a strong exorcist? It feels like I’m being sold off to some guy simply because he’s powerful so I can bear children and continue this ridiculous family bloodline.”

This new revelation astounds Mephisto. He had believed that Amaimon was deceiving you, leading you to think he was in love with you when, in fact, he is not.

“Everyone keeps saying that Amaimon is just using me; doesn’t it ever occur to you that I might be using him too? ‘An object for his own pleasure.'" You let out a soft laugh. “You’re all idiots. Why doesn’t it ever cross your mind that I’m using him for my own pleasure as well?"

As you turn to look at Amaimon, his pupils expand and he kisses you forcefully. He pulls back a little, his lips still brushing against yours as he speaks. "Big Brother, if you don't leave, I'm going to fuck her right in front of you." He then pushes you back onto the bed and positions himself on top of you.

As the puff of pink smoke signals Mephisto's departure, Amaimon removes the sheet from your naked form. "Using me for your pleasure?" He teases, sliding a finger inside of you. "You're still wet," he notes, adding another finger. He moves slowly and gently, preparing you for what's to come. He leans down for another kiss, before slowly pulling his fingers out and lining up with your entrance. Using the slickness from his fingers to coat himself, then runs his cock along your lower lips to ensure enough lubrication before entering you slowly.

You gasp as he moves slowly, pausing every second to check if you're okay. He gently holds your hands and intertwines his fingers with yours, keeping them above your head as he carefully sinks into you until he's fully inside. He waits patiently, watching as you gradually relax into the sensation. It’s a slightly uncomfortable feeling at first, but the feeling starts to change to something else, something that feels good. “Please move.”

“No.”

“Amaimon.”

“You’re the pet. You’re here for my pleasure.” He slowly begins to pull out, then thrusts back in, feeling the resistance of your tight walls surrounding him. You moan in pleasure and pain. "Amaimon," you whimper as he starts to pick up speed. His hips slap against yours with each rhythmic thrust, sending shockwaves of intense pleasure coursing through your body.

"I'm going to fuck you like the pet you are," he growls, increasing his pace. Your moans grow louder and more urgent with each pass. He reaches down and pinches one of your nipples, causing you to yelp and arch your back towards him. "You enjoy this, don't you? You want me to use you."

"Yes," you gasp out between breaths, "yes, I do."

Amaimon smirks, clearly pleased with your response. He continues his relentless assault on your body, every thrust hitting a sensitive spot inside of you that builds the tension further. The ecstasy and pain that you felt before now become a perfect balance.

In a sudden move, he pulls out completely, leaving you wanting more. “W-what?” Amaimon looks down at you, the corner of his mouth lifted into a half-smile.

"I told you, I'm using you for my pleasure," he says, his voice low and menacing. Leaning down, he takes your nipple between his teeth and lightly bites it. The sensation is intense and you yelp in pain but also in pleasure.

Amaimon flips you onto your hands and knees. He enters you again with a forceful thrust, causing you to cry out in both pain and pleasure. He grabs your hips firmly, holding you steady as he increases his pace once more.

"That's it, pet," he growls, his voice low and primal. "Take it like the toy you are." Each word sends shivers down your spine. The sound of slapping flesh fills the room.

Amaimon's hands leave your hips, only to come trailing across your abdomen and up to your breasts. His fingers gently pinch your nipples again, sending a jolt of electricity through you. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Amaimon reaches down, his fingers finding your clitoris with precision. He starts rubbing it in circles, applying just the right amount of pressure that sends shivers coursing through your entire body. Your body tenses, every muscle holding on to the pleasure of this moment. "Amaimon," you gasp out, arms shaking, unable to hold up your own weight much longer.

As you near the edge, Amaimon senses it. With a quick thrust, he hits a sensitive spot inside of you again and again. Your body shudders with each one, drawing you closer and closer. Suddenly, everything fades away except for the pleasure coursing through your veins. Your body arches and trembles as an intense orgasm surges through your body. You cry out in pleasure, as he continues to thrust into you until he too reaches his climax, filling you completely with his seed.

As the waves of pleasure subside, you collapse onto the bed, sated and weak-kneed. Amaimon pulls out of you slowly, his eyes dark with desire even as his breathing begins to return to normal. Carefully, he lifts you to place you on your back.

He stares down at you, with that blank expression before leaning down and kissing you gently, the taste of sweat and sweetness from whatever Amaimon had been eating mingling on both of your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens. Amaimon trails his hand down your body, eliciting small shivers from you.

"Good pet," he murmurs before pulling away slightly to look into your eyes. "You did well."

You can't help but blush at his words. He leans in once more, this time capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, claiming it as his territory as his fingers trace small circles around your still-sensitive nipples.

As his seed slowly drips out of you, you feel a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. He moves away, softly tracing his claws along your skin while admiring you in the aftermath.

Everyone crying about Amaimon using Reader forgets Reader is a hormone-fuelled teenager lmao

#ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #blue exorcist x reader #blue exorcist fanfiction #amaimon x reader #amaimon #amaimon x oc #amaimon ao no exorcist #amaimon blue exorcist #mephisto pheles #amaimon smut

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megmoonlightmeg · 14 days ago

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For Bodhi week, but I can't tell you which day - Day 1, Day 4? Day 6? I'm not sure @empyreanevents. Anyway, this ficlet is part of my longer fic called "What Remains"

Did anyone ask for a Bodhi x Aaric adventuretime? I don't mind—I am shipping it!

Deliverance

— Bodhi —

“I want to believe you, Durran,” Aaric laughs, genuinely amused, “but I find it very, very difficult.”

“No it really is true,” I laugh in response, reminiscing. I stare into the unendingly starry sky above the Umbriel coastline, “I wanted to be a map-maker, and he wanted to be an architect, I think.”

It’s strange remembering how small we had been, once. Xaden had always loved the house, he’d study books on woodworking and runic detailing and stay for hours with them scattered all around him on the floor. His unending questions about architectural details of the city would surprise his tutors, and he was always better at math. That made sense, calculating as he is. The recollection makes me miss his certainty, and feeling adrift, I circle my arms tighter around the knee drawn into my chest making myself smaller on the fallen stone pillar where I’d sat down.

The haloed moon is bright tonight, and conveniently comfortable—warm enough that we don’t need a fire, as needn’t draw any attention to our encampment. Aaric and I had searched these temple ruins before dusk, but of course, you never know—if Umbriel’s forces sent someone to follow us, we’d have a hard time making an escape in unknown terrain. Luckily, this former sanctuary, used by the priestesses of Dunne, overlooks the surrounding area—a welcome bit of luck to secure a strategic vantage point. Still, it’s hard to push away the slight undercurrent of unease I feel as the lush forest murmurs all around us. It’s just another reminder of the foreignness of everything—even the flora and fauna.

Aaric balances a small stick on his first finger, and then twirls it across them, playfully. It’s strange that this guy is the now the anchor in my unease, a fortnight ago, all I would say about Aaric was that he was a good fighter but nothing more than a mysteriously unlikely ally, and someone that Violet trusts. Before that, Cam Tauri on the quadrant felt mostly like a liability.

When Aaric—the unknowable first year who was surprisingly lethal on the mat—turned out to be Cam, I wondered if Xaden would kill him just to eliminate one of the many variables that could expose us all. But Xaden didn’t, and Violet trusted him—Aaric showed us with every defiantly loyal act that he was Aaric first, and Cam second.

The late evening moonlight pours onto us, thinning the anxieties of the day, as if the light is casting us anew. Now Aaric looks refreshed, as if we haven’t been on the run, dusty, dirty and exhausted for days. And though we have both worn the label in so many ways, outwardly and inwardly, there’s a new layer of “traitor” all over us now.

Since setting off our perhaps unlikely pairing was surprisingly natural and trusting. We made decisions and moved in easy unison, with a shared resoluteness to play our part, narrowing our focus to survival and quick strategic choices. The timeframe Cam forsees is tight, and all the reason I needed to decide I was in, but Xaden and Violet’s aligned certainty made our mission feel like the only right choice.

In the daylight our eyes are shadowed by the exhausting inevitability of defeat should we fail on our rebellious errand, but in this thin blue light Aaric Greycastle the traitor looks more like a swashbuckling pirate—my new friend. I wistfully linger in a deep inhale, and just for a little while I think I’ll will myself to forget that it’s a mission, and not an escapade.

“I can take first watch,” Cam offers blithely, not looking my way, as he runs a hand through his wavy blonde hair. The sleeve rolled tight across his bicep is distracting as it flexes upward. His body seems lithe and smooth, but he’s wound tight inside and out—it’s beautiful, admittedly.

The regal air he exudes is almost enough to take my breath away. He leans back, with one leg up, his foot propped against the doorframe. Holding the stick he was playing with absently between his teeth, he folds his arms across his chest and his knee sways slightly side to side, fidgeting.

Aaric’s gaze moves toward mine, like he senses I’m eyeing him. Long sandy lashes reveal the luminous green stare I bet I’ll fantasize about later. Their intensity makes my stomach flip, and I avert my eyes.

It’s been a long, long eleven days. I might even go so far as saying that the prince and I have shifted into friendship territory. But tonight there’s a heated tension in the warm air that feels new.

Looking back at Molvic, he smiles. “There’s a bit of magic here in the templ—“ he starts to say.

“Yes, I can feel it too,” I agree too quickly, my voice gravelly—overly sultry—because I’m still caught in the magic of him.

I speedily clear my throat, “…I mean, I’m glad to have some tiny bit of access to Cuir, yes.” I’m surely blushing, but I doubt you could see it in this light and with my skin tone. Fuck.

My hair falls into my eyes as I look down, and shrug it off, cringing. Right now, I don’t need to be anything but effective. Nothing matters but surviving this war. We are saving our friends, fighting for the continent. Yes. Button it up, Bodhi.

I fucking let my guard down, and he noticed…shit, shit…he’s fucking turned toward me now.

I suppose, after all, it’s not such a big deal if someone actually notices me being frivolous, or reckless. I never got to have personal needs or desires, except for the occasional sexual encounter to alleviate stress. Having to hold it together in front of the marked ones, being Xaden’s shadow at all times, was exhausting, but holding it together for myself—has been impossibly hard. I have sacrificed nearly every part of myself, under everyone’s scrutiny, even my cousin.

Until this trip.

Under the pale light of this glorious moon, I don’t have to be anything, to anyone—because shit, I’ve only ever given everything, always. My parents died, I sacrificed my childhood, then I sacrificed to keep Xaden safe—kept his secrets, prepared to take the throne, and shouldered the burdens he took on for the rest of the marked ones. I’m tired.

Yes. I’m tired—and it’s hot, and I’m melting in my flight leathers. Thank Amari we have enough time to properly stop and rest now. When I took off my flight jacket earlier after nearly twenty hours straight on Cuir’s back, I nearly died from my own stench. I’m now regretting that I’d not scouted for a stream or something before the night was dark, as I smell my armpit, fishing around for the pair of sleeping trousers I know stuffed into my pack as we rushed leaving our last camp.

I’m so busy faffing around in my nervous embarrassment that Aaric properly laughs—and I swear I get a bulge just hearing the tinkling timbre sound of it—and that’s before I’ve seen his expression. I glance up to find him watching me—like really looking—and gods if it isn’t so disarming to see someone too perfect, too controlled, too guarded—finally letting me see a little more of himself. His expression is a victory I didn’t know I needed to win.

“I really need a bath. Fuck.” I make a face, and fake-gag.

“Agree,” he’s smiling with his eyes, now—and it sends me buzzing. I’ve always been able to disarm the stoic, angry broody men in my life, after all—but Aaric feels extra closed off—and now he’s smiling and it’s big. It’s all teeth, and extra dazzling, all the way up into the pit of my stomach. What an unlikely setting for such an intoxicating, easy feeling—here, millions of miles from everyone we know—with Cam, the fucking crowned prince of Navarre.

“Put those land-nav skills to good use then, Durran, and find somewhere to bathe?” He raises an eyebrow, arms still folded, eyeing me.

“Yeah, I’ll check if there’s a pool or stream nearby,” I respond, feigning nonchalance as I grab the map, a sneaky half-smile forming on my face. What a pleasure—a night swim. My stress slides off me like I’ve been wearing dragon scales for multiple years. And suddenly I feel like I want to ‘pull a Ridoc’ and name our trip. Something like…

‘Our adventurous side excursion’?

‘The secluded lush island tour’?

Who knows.

All I know is Cam’s gift—his signet—gives him unparalleled insight into doing exactly what would win us this war. It was my decision to follow him now, rather than Xaden, but it’s still unclear of course if this trip will win us the allies we need. And with Xaden is gone—well and truly gone—Violet now carries the one burden I knew I could never actually take on—she rules Tyrrendor. Thank Amari it’s her job now to sit on that gods-forsaken Arretian throne, that always felt too big and too old and ill fitted for me and my worry-brain.

And so this strange, awful turn of events has shifted a lot for me. And, fuck if I don’t feel carefree—a kind of levity I’ve not had in—well, as long as I can remember.

I’ve always worried about something.

I was the one who needed to stay ‘sweet’, stay ‘soft’, stay likeable. I always felt it was my role to keep Xaden cool, to temper him, and present the version of Xaden that was amiable enough, palatable enough to the aristocracy, or to leadership at Basgiath—hell, even to the allied Poromiel aristocracy.

Because if anyone found out about Xaden—about the rebellion, or lately, about how he’d turned venin—it would jeapordize everything we’d jointly sacrificed, everything I’d worked for, and everything our parents died for. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t either watching his back or being his second—and the release from the claustrophobia of never being really able to say, “No,” makes tonight feel like I’m on my first real holiday of my adult life.

Cam had it the same, it occurs to me, as I watch him turn to rifle through his pack for something more comfortable. He was—he is, after all—a Tauri. And the king expects his sons to lead Navarre and wage the war and the propaganda war that his father’s fathers have perpetuated. It’s not like Cam could have said “No,” to his destiny any more than Xaden and I. Cam was raised to carry the burden of this inherited conflict, even before he was mature enough to understand that choice.

And so Cam became Aaric. And Aaric was hard to get to know. But the last few days have felt the opposite—hearing him worry aloud, share his visions with me… letting his guard down and laughing with me—it’s like looking through a window and getting a rare glimpse at Cam. I can picture what he was like; long before Basgiath War College and the Rider’s Quadrant. Back when Violet, Brennan, and Mira had known him as a carefree child prince, unburdened by the truths of his father’s war.

I look closer now, examining the faded, inked topographic sketched areas of the map, and there is, in fact, a load of water nearby. And although these maps are ancient, and probably only somewhat accurate, if even one of these tributary lakes exists, I’ll be thrilled. Aaric and I decide to head in the direction of a half dozen bodies of water. On the map they are dotted across the area just inland from where we’re sat.

“According to this,” I say, looking up from the parchment, and keeping a finger on the page, “this lake is actually very nearby. I bet we could leave our packs, but let’s take the eggs,” I suggest, not wanting to tempt Zenhal. Better to keep them nearby, as we can’t afford to lose a single precious hatchling, that would rob us of our most important leverage.

Cam nods once, humming in agreement, and grabs the other side of the extra pack. After dropping it with Molvic for safe-keeping, as he walks back over, he eyes his blue clubtail, mentally relaying information about the eggs. He’s so naturally lethal, in sync with Molvic—he reminds me of Xaden, but there’s a sort of pampered softness to him, too.

Just yesterday, on the other side of the island, he’d asked me to fill his waterskin in a tributary we’d stumbled upon. I was so glad to find the small river. The water was clean, originating from a wellspring nearby—and deliciously salt-free. I’d hastily rushed to drink and fill my waterskin. And then there was something about the way Cam handed his waterskin down to me as he said “Fill this as well,” that gave away precisely how much practice he needs at asking people to do things without commanding it.

I’d happily filled it without saying a word.

We’ve been walking just a foot between us for ten minutes. We’re mostly silent, and the dappled moon shining down on us, chittering birds sound in the trees above us, some nocturnal bird particular to the island as I’ve never heard anything like it.

Aaric is the first to spot some dark water up ahead. He pushes me on the shoulder with a hand his eyes fixed ahead, already pulling the tie on his sleep tunic loose—“I’m glad I brought you, Durran, for this reason alone. That lake looks absolutely divine.”

I grunt in response, “Glad my land nav skills can be of service—” my breath hitches at Aaric’s broad grin again, and his bare, muscular torso. His skin is pale, but delicately touchable, stretched across the planes of his abdomen, and I can’t help the fluttering in my belly.

His brow lowers a bit, thoughtfully. “We shouldn’t stay long.” This type of short, foreboding statement is indeed Aaric’s style.

Because the soft sweetness of Aaric Greycastle is only eclipsed by his glowering mask of rebellious secrecy. The slight slope of his shoulders give away just how heavy it is to carrying around a defiant “fuck you” energy that seeps from him. However Aaric’s is a different “fuck you” than the “fuck you” Xaden carries. Xaden doesn't care what anyone thinks, because he’s arrogant. He’s decisive and leads because there isn’t another person in the room who’s thought it all through as quickly as he has. With a lethal vigilance, he manifested a precog ability to see intentionality so he can take preemptive action in the moment.

And so it’s no wonder that Aaric the rider has developed precognition like Xaden—Aaric is a planner. He’s secretly hated his father and brothers for years. Patiently fuming, spying, and biding his time, Cam expertly schemed to do whatever it would take to bring real honor to himself, including changing his identity. He alone will bring honor to his title—especially since his family has utterly failed to do so. Cam would fight, rightly, not only for the safety of his own people, but to the benefit of the entire continent’s populace. Therefore, Aaric’s “fuck you” isn’t directed to everyone—just to anyone who’d assume that he’s his father’s son.

And yet, he’s not got the angsty rage-vibe you’d expect. In fact, I’d long admired his ability to compartmentalise his feelings and remain level-headed. Aaric seemed wise beyond his years, I’d personally never really remembered he was a first-year. He had every reason to hate all of us marked ones, but any enmity Aaric shouldered toward Xaden as his brother’s killer never even extended to the rest of us marked ones. He’d made a choice to rebell same as us a long time ago. I instantly sensed when he was completely at ease sharing his signet with me—he trusted me.

How refreshing.

I guess this is what it feels like to be seen exactly as I am. Not holding it together, not putting on a show, I can act and decide what’s next for me, now. I start tugging off my boots, and then my shirt.

I steal a glance, smiling contentedly as Aaric strips fully and runs to jump into the lake, headfirst. I hope he knows I trust him, too.

#fourth wing #iron flame #the empyrean #rebecca yarros #empyreanevents2025 #bodhiweek2025 #bodhi durran #bodhi durran x reader #bodoc #bodhi x ridoc #empyrean appreciation week #fourth wing appreciation week #ao3 writer #fourth wing fanart #fic writer

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zelandiangelo · 7 months ago

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happy birthday kaiba beloved

I had to give up on my pipe dream of finishing this absolute monster of a fic in time for his birthday LOL new scenes keep popping up when I think I've finished a big chunk... like a hydra...

but I can't let his birthday pass without posting anything so >_< here is the opening of the fic, subject to change a bit LOL. most biggest of giant shoutouts to @moonogre for reading my draft despite it being filled with holes and for loving it and cheering me on you are the realest one <3

(kaiba i'm sorry that you are just annoyed about everything happening to you here I promise it gets better later when you have some Character Development TT_TT)

Seto doesn’t have nightmares often anymore. But when he does, they’re always about the same thing: Mokuba. More specifically, Mokuba missing, in peril, in pain.

He hasn’t seen his younger sibling yet in this dream, but a dreadful certainty grips him, one that tells him if he doesn’t find Mokuba fast, something terrible will happen to them. Frantic, he runs through unfamiliar terrain that shifts and warps about him, calling Mokuba’s name over and over to no avail.

Until without warning, Mokuba appears within view, and with them the scene before Seto becomes very familiar; it’s not the first time he’s witnessed it, nor is it the second.

The five-headed dragon looms, poised to strike Mokuba, whose eyes are wide with surprise and terror. Seto knows what will happen next. The dragon’s jaws will stretch wide, then let loose a beam of energy that will streak towards his defenseless younger sibling. Both Seto and Mokuba will watch, rooted to the spot, until at the last second Joey Wheeler will throw his body into the path of the strike and disappear on impact. Seto had never felt more grateful to anyone than he had at that moment, and it had only made him hate Joey Wheeler all the more.

Wheeler is the very picture of an older brother, all warmth and selfless instinct, and it isn’t limited to his sister. He looks out for her, for Yugi and his other friends, even for people who have actively tried to kill him. And, yes, he looks out for Mokuba. Seto hates him for it, naturally. But he also trusts Wheeler more than he would ever admit to his face.

So he knows Mokuba will be safe from this attack. The dragon opens each of its five maws, a synchronized growl building in its throats, until, with a roar that reverberates deep in Seto’s core, it unleashes a blindingly powerful blast. And sure enough, Wheeler appears, blazing like a sunrise as it bleeds over the horizon. He and Mokuba both flinch as the blow lands, but while Wheeler’s body dissolves, Mokuba remains unscathed.

Mokuba turns to face Seto, their eyes filled with tears and distress, but there’s something else buried beneath it: betrayal. That Seto had allowed Wheeler’s sacrifice. That he hadn’t done so first. The image fractures, and dozens of copies of Mokuba accuse him with their existences. Mokuba on their knees on the floor after being struck. Mokuba sulking after Seto snaps at them in a fit of stress or anger. Mokuba confronting Seto after his victory, reminding him how twisted and broken he is.

They - the original, he thinks - turn away from Seto to stare at the spot where Wheeler had last stood. He reaches out for them; whether he could have made it, he doesn’t know, because his phone’s grating ringtone jolts him awake.

Still half-asleep, Seto fumbles for his phone and accepts the call. Leftover emotions from the fading dream fester in his chest, and the bitterness overflows, dripping from his mouth when he answers. “Do you have any idea what time it is,” he snaps flatly, not caring who’s on the receiving end of his ire.

“It’s 5:30 in the morning, Mr. Kaiba,” comes his secretary’s smooth response. No sooner are the words out of her mouth than Kaiba’s alarm goes off, proving her right. He curses under his breath as he shuts the alarm off.

“And just what could be important enough for you to call me at 5:30 in the morning?” he asks. Though his tone is hostile, he’s sure she’ll have a satisfactory answer. His secretary is very good at what she does, as evidenced by how put together she sounds at this time of the morning. Seto, meanwhile, doesn’t have enough of his wits about him to even begin to guess what could be so important.

“Damon Graves wants to have dinner with you this evening.”

Seto inhales sharply. He’s been trying to facilitate a meeting with the CEO of Graves Entertainment for months on end, and finally the fruits of his labor have paid off - on the worst possible day they could have.

“What time?” he tries, hoping that this man’s definition of “evening” is some ridiculously early or late time.

“Around six o’clock, sir.”

Seto grits his teeth. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. You’ll have to reschedule it for me.”

“No can do, sir,” she responds immediately. “Mr. Graves informed me that he’ll be between flights at this time. You either meet with him today, or wait another two months for an opening in his schedule.”

“I’ll wait, then.”

His secretary pauses. “Are you sure that’s wise, Mr. Kaiba?”

He narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“This man is very… particular. Trust me when I say that when he offered the choice of ‘now’ or ‘later’, it really wasn’t much of a choice at all.”

Seto blows out a slow, frustrated breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He absolutely does trust her in this matter, but the ‘choice’ in question isn’t as simple as she thinks it is.

It’s not a choice between doing business with this man or not. It’s a choice between this man or Mokuba.

Mokuba has been looking forward to this release event for weeks - and, ever since he had cleared his schedule and promised Mokuba they would go together, so has Seto. Despite the difficulties, Seto enjoys being the CEO of KaibaCorp; he enjoys the power and respect that come with the position, enjoys knowing that it’s his own hard work that earned him those things, and that he doesn’t have to rely on anyone else for them. But right now, all he wants is to be able to shed that responsibility like dead snakeskin, to pass it off to someone else and spend time with his younger sibling.

But he can’t, and he knows it. KaibaCorp’s success is what keeps himself and Mokuba powerful. Provided for. Safe.

Like his secretary said, it’s not much of a choice, at the end of the day. But Seto wonders if he shouldn’t have agonized over this decision more.

“Fine,” he says dully. “I’ll meet with him tonight. Let me know the details as soon as you’ve worked them out.”

“Understood, sir.”

Seto hangs up without fanfare and leans back against the pillows. A sour feeling permeates him as he tries to figure out how he’ll break the news to Mokuba. He can already picture it; their eyes, which will surely be shining with anticipation for the promised evening, dimming with disappointment when Seto tells them why, exactly, he won’t be able to make it.

That image - Mokuba’s distraught expression - tugs on the fading strands of the dream. Bitterness returns to him in a rush, amplified tenfold from what it had been before the call.

There’s only one thing he can think to do to make his failure up to Mokuba, but he’d almost rather give his company over to Pegasus. Almost.

Seto doesn't have Wheeler’s number saved in his contacts (why would he need it?), so he opens up the group chat that Yugi had invited him to. Though Seto rarely speaks up in it, and only ever to respond directly to Yugi, he meticulously keeps up with every message sent. Wheeler’s messages aren’t labeled with his name, only his number, but it’s obvious enough which ones are from him.

The first two calls Seto makes are rejected almost instantly. Wheeler finally picks up on the third attempt.

“I swear,” he snaps without so much as a greeting, “if this is some kinda scam or prank or what have ya, I’m gonna-”

“Wheeler.”

The line falls silent.

“Kaiba?” he finally asks, sounding in as much disbelief as Seto himself that this call has been placed. “The fuck d’you want at-” he pauses, groans, and continues - “quarter to six in the goddamn morning?”

“Are you free this evening?”

Wheeler splutters. “Am I fr- what? What for? Since when d’you call me up about my Saturday plans?”

“Since mine were derailed by a last-minute work meeting that can’t be rescheduled.”

“Oh, boo hoo,” Wheeler taunts. “Poor Mr. CEO’s gotta put a little work into running that big company of his. What a cryin’ shame. Look, whatever favor it is that you’re about to ask, count me out.”

Seto grits his teeth and resists the urge to hang up on Wheeler. “I was supposed to take Mokuba to the release event this evening.”

There’s another pause. When Wheeler next speaks, some of the hostility is gone from his voice. “The tag duelin’ one?”

“So you have been keeping up.”

Wheeler ignores the jab. “So, what, ya want me to take him instead?”

Seto swallows the urge to correct the pronoun and says simply, “I’ll pay you.”

“Woah, hang on, I didn’t say anything about…” Wheeler trails off, probably weighing his financial situation against Seto’s, and drops the subject. “Why me?” he asks instead. “Don’t you guys have servants for this kinda thing? A butler or whatever?”

Because our parents died so long ago that Mokuba doesn’t even remember them. Because I can’t even take one day off to spend time with Mokuba. Because there’s no one else who really cares about them.

All of these potential answers are painful, but the three word response he offers Wheeler hurts him just as much to admit aloud: “Mokuba likes you.”

Seto holds his breath as he waits out the longest pause yet. Finally, the line crackles as Wheeler lets out a gusty sigh. “What time?”

-----

Seto opens the door himself when Wheeler knocks on it. The two don’t bother to exchange pleasantries. Wheeler regards him with… not open hostility - they’ve maybe shared one too many traumatic experiences for that - but wariness, like a dog being introduced to a stranger for the first time. In a way, maybe he is; it’s been a long time since the two of them have actually spoken to one another in-person, and they’ve never done so at Seto’s home.

Wheeler finally breaks the silence. “There anything important I need to know?”

Seto frowns. “Important how?”

“Rules. Allergies. Bedtime. That kinda thing.”

“You’re not a babysitter, Wheeler. Mokuba’s old enough to take care of… himself.” He hesitates over the pronoun; misgendering Mokuba rankles him, but he doesn’t want to out them, either. As far as Seto knows, he’s the only person Mokuba has told.

“Isn’t the kid, like, thirteen? I know I coulda used some adult supervision at that age.”

“Mokuba’s seventeen, you moron.”

“Seriously?” Wheeler’s brow furrows. “He’s even shorter’n Yugi.”

“And that is precisely why you should know better than to judge a child’s age by their height.”

Wheeler raises an eyebrow. “So, if he’s practically an adult anyway, what exactly are you payin’ me for here?”

Oh, right. He had promised to pay this moron, hadn’t he? “It’s a tag duel. I’m paying you to be Mokuba’s teammate.”

“Right.” Wheeler rolls his eyes. “At least answer the allergies question. If I’m gonna be feedin’ the kid, I don’t wanna accidentally kill him and have you on my ass about it for the rest of my life.”

Seto scowls. “Mokuba’s not allergic to anything.”

“There, see? Wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Before Seto can retort, Mokuba enters the room, and their face lights up. “Joey!”

Wheeler’s whole demeanor changes. “Hey, Mokuba!” he calls. The two cross the room to meet each other. As Seto glowers on, Wheeler gets his younger sibling into a gentle headlock; Mokuba laughs as Wheeler gives them an affectionate noogie before letting go. “You ever done one ‘a these things before?”

“I’ve done a few small local tournaments,” Mokuba says. “Never a tag duel before, though.”

“How ‘bout a draft duel?”

“What’s a draft duel?”

Wheeler laughs. “It’s what we’re goin’ to right now.”

“It is?” Mokuba’s eyes widen. “I, uh. Didn’t read the info too closely.”

“Don’t you worry, kid,” Wheeler says, throwing an arm around Mokuba’s shoulders. “Your old pal Joey Wheeler is a seasoned card shop veteran. C’mon, I’ll explain how it works on the way over. We gotta get goin’ if we don’t wanna miss it.”

Mokuba pauses briefly on their way out to wrap their arms tightly around Seto. “Bye, Seto,” they whisper. “Good luck at your business dinner thing.”

“Good luck to you too,” Seto murmurs, squeezing gently back. “Don’t listen to Wheeler if he tells you to do anything stupid.”

“I heard that.”

“Hey,” Mokuba says, releasing Seto, “he said ‘if’, not ‘when’. I think that’s an improvement.”

“Merely a slip of the tongue on my part.”

“So he admits he makes mistakes!” Wheeler raises his eyebrows. “I think your brother’s gettin’ soft in his old age, Mokuba.”

Seto scowls. “I’m twenty-one years old.”

“So, older’n me.” Wheeler grins lopsidedly, and it needles Seto that Mokuba laughs so easily alongside him. “Just leave the duellin’ to us youngsters, Gramps. We’ll bring home a trophy to remind ya of your glory days.”

The remark hits a little too close. It’s been over a year since Seto last participated in any kind of official duel - which isn’t all that much time, but at the speed Duel Monsters moves, it’s practically ancient history. Seto thinks at first that it was a calculated jab on Wheeler’s part; but he’s missing that expression he usually wears when he goes toe-to-toe with Seto, the one where his eyes burn like lasers, white-hot and focused unwaveringly on Seto, drawing a retaliation out of him without fail every time. Instead, his attention is focused on amusing Mokuba with his antics.

And so, for Mokuba’s sake, Seto swallows the remark rising in his throat. At least I have glory days to revisit, Wheeler.

“Whatever,” he says instead, stiffly. “Roland’s ready for you two with the car.”

Seto hides his envy behind a mask of indifference as he watches them go.

#seto kaiba #kaiba #my writing #puppyshipping #violetshipping

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daydreamgoddess14 · 5 months ago

Text

It's here at last! The final Ficmas 2024 story gift.

This was for the same Anon who requested a River x Sid snowball fight/mistletoe kiss, so I don't have an ask to respond to.

I hope you see this, Anon, and I hope you like it! This time, our lovely requester asked for a spicy "Have you been naughty or nice?" for River & Sid.

It's not overly Christmas themed, so if you've banished tinsel from your life for the next 11 months, you're safe!

Thank you to everyone who participated! I hope you've had as much fun as me 💜

I might do a Valentine theme in a few weeks, I'm a Valentine baby, so for my birthday, I want to share the love 💕

Perfectly Nice

"So, have you been naughty or nice?”

"Pardon?" she asked incredulously as she tore her eyes from the couples on the dancefloor.

He leaned back against the bar, a smirk on his face, and responded, "You heard me. Have you been naughty or nice this year?"

He took a casual sip from his drink, his eyes never leaving her. It's clear this is his attempt to break the monotony and provoke her.

Sid rolled her eyes.

"Cartwright, I'm not going to dignify that with an answer.”

River laughed, leaning a bit closer, feigning an innocent look. "Come on, Sid. It was a simple question. Are you afraid to admit if you've been naughty? You can say if you are?"

"You and I both know I've been perfectly nice." she told him, turning back to watch the dancefloor.

River lets out a scoff, feigning disbelief. "Pfft, 'perfectly nice'? Really? You expect me to believe that?"

He moves closer, gently nudging her shoulder. "Come on, it's just a game.”

"What's this thing you're doing right now?" She asked, looking him up and down disparagingly. "Don't do that," she grimaced.

River shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "Just trying to have a little fun, it's so boring."

He sounded whiney, but the gleam in his eyes suggested his enjoyment of riling her up. "Besides, I'm just pointing out the obvious. You're not as saintly as you like to portray.”

"I don't need to be saintly, I just need to be better than you," she tapped his chest with a fingertip. "And I already am." she smiled.

River's smirk widened, amused by her confident touch. "Is that so?"

He took a step closer, the distance between them shrinking. "You think you're so much better than me, Sid? Are you sure about that?" There's a playful challenge in his gaze, as if he's enjoying bantering with her.

"Cartwright, I can tell you with absolute certainty that I am better than you." She said smugly, gesturing to the bar staff for another drink.

River chuckled at her arrogance, finding her confidence both attractive and infuriating. He leaned against the bar next to her, matching her gesture.

"Oh, really?" he challenged. "You're better than me in every way, huh? Care to enlighten me, oh perfect one?”

"Well for a start, you're not exactly keeping up with the task at hand," she nodded towards the grand doorway where the man they'd been trailing all night was making his way out of the room.

He watched as the man they'd been following slipped away through the grand doorway.

"Shit," he muttered, turning back to her. "You had to distract me, didn't you?”

"Of course. I'm the one distracting you," she said sarcastically, taking her drink as she went to follow their mark.

"You are in that dress," he replied so quietly she wasn't sure she'd heard him.

She paused, not quite sure if she'd heard him correctly.

"Sorry? What was that?" She asked, a hint of intrigue in her tone, wondering if she'd imagined it.

"Nothing," his face was impassive, "shall we?" he gestured to let her go ahead of him.

She stared at him for a moment, sensing an undercurrent of hidden meaning in his words and his expression, but decided to leave it for now.

River followed closely behind her, slipping into the next room where the man they were following stood mingling with other guests. They stayed near the edge of the room, observing the target's interactions from a discreet distance.

River's eyes kept flickering towards Sid, his gaze occasionally drifting from the target to her figure, appreciating the way the dress hugged her curves.

"Have you been naughty or nice?" she asked quietly, as they observed their target. He grinned at her taking up the game.

"Feeling bored are we?" he teased.

She smirked and leaned a bit closer to him, keeping their voices low.

"Oh, just passing the time, that's all," she quipped. "And I'm curious about how naughty you've been this year. Maybe I should ask Lamb? He's always got the measure of you.”

"Nice, definitely nice. I brought you coffee."

"Once."

She arched an eyebrow.

"Still counts, doesn't it?" He argued in a mock defense.

"What about him?" She nodded towards their target.

"Naughty. Not a nice bone in his body." River grumbled.

Sid nodded in agreement.

"Agreed. I can't work out what's going on here, there's something I'm missing.”

She observed the target, his sly smile, and his charming demeanor.

"You didn't answer?" he queried, recalling their conversion at the bar and pulling her out of her thoughts.

"I did? I'm always nice." She smiled serenely.

River scoffed, his voice low and disbelieving.

"Are you now? Always nice? I find that hard to believe.”

"The nicest ball buster you'll meet, that's me," she shrugged.

"Yeah right," he scoffed, "it's all a show. You're a softy really, Sid." River sniggered.

Sid bristled at his remark, her eyes narrowing in faux annoyance.

"Me, a softy? You clearly have me confused with someone else," she retorted, but there was a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips giving her away.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our suites are now available for anyone wishing to use them." A graceful woman in a tight dress announced. Sid looked at River who shrugged.

“Looks like you're about to have your burning questions answered.” River raised an eyebrow.

"What the hell is she on about?" Sid hissed. “I just want to get into his office, just five minutes.”

"We need to find out," he muttered, "and quickly.”

Just then, their target started making his way to a closed off area.

"I'm going for a look. You get more drinks," She insisted.

"Yeah, good idea, see what you can find out."

He headed off to the bar, leaving her to investigate the area where the couples were disappearing behind the curtain.

Following them, Sid came across a room - a large, wide hallway with many doors leading off from it. Many of the doors were open.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she slowly started walking down the hallway, peeking into the rooms to observe what was happening inside.

Couples were deeply engaged, their limbs intertwined as they explored each other's bodies with unabashed pleasure.

She turned to the next room to see their mark - the reason they were at the party - being bound in intricate knots by a domineering woman. The contrast between pain and pleasure in his expression was arresting.

She swallowed thickly and made her way quickly back to the bar.

"Well?" River asked, offering her a glass. She downed the drink in a couple of gulps.

"We're going to need more drinks... and a plan." She muttered.

River lifted an eyebrow, intrigued by her reaction.

"That bad, huh?" he asked with a half-smile, sensing there was more she wasn't telling him.

She didn't respond.

"Yep, ok. More drinks coming up," he muttered, signaling the bartender for another round. "What did you see in there, Sid?”

"It's a sex party," she whispered, looking around to make sure they weren't overheard.

“Sorry, what?”

“You heard me. They're just… going at it. In public. The target, he's in there.”

River's eyes widened.

“Shit, ok. You're right. We need a plan, we're going to look totally out of place here," River told her.

Sid nodded in agreement and he moved to stand closer to her, making their formal discussion look intimate and private.

He created the illusion of a couple engaged in a private conversation. His proximity to her made her heart quicken, but she tried to ignore it, focusing on the task at hand.

"We could just leave? Couldn't we?" She asked weakly.

"They already know we're here, we can't just duck out of this... whatever this is." He said.

"No, I get it. We stay?”

“We stay.” He agreed.

“OK so... where do we start?" She asked, all business.

"Am I allowed to kiss you?"

Sid sucked in a breath.

"Umm, yes? Yeah, ok. Kissing is fine." She mumbled, blushing.

River watched her reactions, amused by her slight hesitancy as they strategised. He leaned closer, his breath brushing against her ear. "You're certain about this? We don't want to overdo it."

“Believe me, I don't think a few kisses will be overdoing it.” She warned.

His hand touched her hip, pulling her even closer against him. His lips hovered near her neck, the proximity igniting a tingle down her spine.

“Relax, this has to look natural.”

“I know. Next?" she asked.

"Where," he cleared his throat nervously, "where can I touch you?"

Sid's mind went blank, the unexpected question catching her off guard. She could feel the heat in her cheeks as she considered her response.

"Well," she began, her voice slightly shaky, "You can... touch me..." Her words trailed off, her heart beating faster with each passing moment. "Umm… Over my clothes? That seems fine. Under my clothes... top half only?" she suggested.

"Are we... are we taking clothes off?" he asked. Sid stared at him, wide eyed.

"Fuck... I don't know?" she stuttered. “I don't know what the right answer is,” she sighed.

River's question hung in the air. Her eyes widened as she looked at him, her breath coming in a little sharper.

"I... I don't know," she admitted again, her voice a little husky. "I guess it depends on what you think will... sell the act.”

"OK, a safe word then, for if this gets out of hand?" he asked.

"Raspberries," she muttered, thinking fast. "Who's the flighty one, one of us needs to be - that's our get out?" She reasoned. “I'm not enjoying myself, it's time to leave?”

“You can be the... well, the slightly panicky one.” He sniggered.

"Yeah, thanks a lot," she mumbled. "Be realistic, you're more likely to be the shy one." She teased.

"I'm quietly confident, actually. Where it matters."

"Quietly? Cartwright, nothing you do is quiet." She shook her head slightly.

River's voice was soft as he leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "We need to find a way to get closer without drawing too much attention. Any ideas?”

"I guess we go and join the party," she murmured.

“Suppose you're right. Time to dive in."

He took her hand and led her towards the room the target had disappeared into. As they entered, they were immediately hit with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, and moans of pleasure.

"Oh god," Sid breathed, her jaw dropping. River squeezed her hand.

"Just... don't panic," he muttered, giving her a sidelong look as she froze on the spot.

She shot him a quick glance, then looked back at the debauchery around them. "Seriously? Don't panic?" she hissed back quietly. "I am going to kill Lamb when I get back. He must have known what was going on here," she hissed.

"He probably doesn't," River said as the hostess approached them with a wide smile.

"We wondered if you'd be brave enough to join us," she giggled. "You both looked so nervous at the bar!”

"Are we that obvious?" Sid asked nervously.

"Just a little," the woman smiled warmly. "Here, have a drink.”

“Not as subtle as we thought?" Sid frowned.

"Oh don't worry, you're not the only ones," the woman insisted. "That couple over there, they've only been once before. Had a blazing row and had to leave quite quickly." The woman rolled her eyes. "You two are gorgeous, you'll be very popular I'm sure.”

Sid glanced over at the couple the hostess was gesturing to, noticing the contrast to their own deer-in-headlights behavior. "Huh," she mumbled, a hint of relief in her voice. "Well, I guess we're all just trying to fit in."

The idea that they would be 'popular' seemed both exciting and daunting.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to be popular," River admitted, reading her mind.

"There's no pressure to join in, you can just watch if that's what you prefer. Or keep it between you and let others watch... entirely up to you," the woman explained.

"We can just... watch?" River asked. The idea of being a spectator rather than an active participant was marginally more appealing to them both.

"You can, but some people do find that more of a turn on," the woman said suggestively. "You may end up participating without originally expecting to. Explore, have fun," she said knowingly, leaving them to continue around the room.

River and Sid exchanged a glance, River swallowed, his hand tightening around Sid's "Right... explore, have fun." He repeated, the words coming out a bit huskier than he intended.

"We should do that," Sid agreed. River led her to a chair, designed to sit two in very close proximity and pulled her into his lap. He felt her breath hitch.

"Relax," he whispered into her ear.

"Easier said than done," she muttered quietly, but still leaned back against him, her body flush with his.

They both watched silently through the doors of one room where Sid had seen a man - their man - being restrained. A woman entered, her sky-high stilettos tap-tapping on the floor, her curves wrapped in soft, luxurious satin lingerie. In her hand, she held a riding crop, its leather curled elegantly at the end.

River's grip on Sid's hip unintentionally tightened, his gaze fixed on the woman, then shifting to look at Sid.

Sid's gaze was fixed on the scene before them, her breath coming out slightly uneven as the woman made her entrance. She felt River's lips move to brush against her bare shoulder, his touch sending a small jolt through her. Her eyes closed briefly, the unexpected contact taking a moment to sink in.

She shifted the tiniest amount in his lap. As the riding crop swung through the air with a whoosh and made contact, Sid's body instinctively reacted, a sharp intake of breath followed by a soft gasp. She could feel her body betraying her, responding despite her best efforts to keep a level head. She bit down hard on her lower lip.

River's hands moved slightly, his fingers holding her hips firmly in place, the movement making her shift again in his lap. She could feel the tension in him, mirrored in her own body.

Sid couldn't take her eyes off the target restrained in the chair, his desire painfully obvious in his every movement. Her gaze flickered between the man and the woman wielding the crop, her heart rate quickening at the scene. She could feel River's breath on her neck, and the way his body fidgeted ever so slightly.

The riding crop swung again, whistling through the air before meeting flesh with a thwack.

Sid shivered. River's arms around her felt both calming and exhilarating at once. She could sense his own reactions, his breathing slightly more ragged than usual.

The restrained man was mumbling something, begging, pleading. Sid couldn't work out what he was asking for until the woman stepped forwards and positioned her cunt over his mouth. Unable to touch her, his tongue darted out furiously to try and taste her.

Sid sighed as she moved against River, he felt every shift and shiver, his body reacting despite his best efforts to stay in control.

She became acutely aware of his reaction, the subtle press against her backside sending a wave of heat through her.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered, resting his forehead between her shoulder blades. “I don't mean to… I'm trying not to -”

"It's okay," she breathed, glancing back at him, her voice slightly husky. "I know. I'm... I'm not doing much better myself.”

They both turned their attention back to the scene unfolding before them. Their target practically bent over backwards in his attempt to eat out the woman standing over him. Her riding crop lightly tapping his cock.

Sid felt herself involuntarily shifting again, her body responding to the sight despite her best efforts to keep a level head. The heat between them felt almost stifling, a tension building in the air.

River's lips ghosted over her shoulder again, his voice in her ear.

“At least we can keep an eye on him.”

“I'm seeing far more of him than I ever wanted to,” Sid hissed.

She felt the rumble of River's laugh against her back.

In the chair next to them, another watching couple couldn't stand the tension any longer, with the man getting to his knees and pulling his partner forward in the chair. Sid looked over at them and bit back a moan.

She could feel the tension in her body growing taut, like a spring begging to be released.

"We probably didn't think this through," she murmured.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against her ear,

"No," he admitted, "I don't think we did."

He nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, the warmth of her skin against his lips making him shiver.

Her skin tingled under his touch, the intensity of her feelings both scaring and thrilling her.

One of his hands moved from her hip to reach around and rest on her inner thigh.

"River," she breathed, her voice low, "We... we need to keep control here. We can't... not here.”

“So this isn't just about where we are?” He asked. He felt her shake her head, the scent of her shampoo, her perfume filling the air.

"Waited a long time for you to admit that," he found bare skin through the slit of her dress.

“In the current circumstances, I can hardly claim otherwise, can I?”

She could feel his smirk against her neck as his fingers brushed against bare skin through the generous slit of her dress. Her hips involuntarily bucked at his touch, her breath coming out in a short gasp.

"Also," she protested weakly, her voice shaking slightly. "You don't need to sound so satisfied about it.”

"Well when I said I wanted to take you for a drink, this wasn't exactly what I meant," he laughed quietly.

A small bubble of laughter escaped Sid's lips. Despite the tension between them, his dry humor still managed to cut through. “I feel like we've skipped a few dates here," he added.

They both laughed quietly at the absurdity of the situation. Couples, throuples, and groups around the room were becoming more and more expressive and lewd. Sid could avoid looking into the room with their restrained target, but everywhere her eyes settled there was something else going on.

"Definitely," she murmured, her body involuntarily arching against his hand. "I think we're well past the 'Netflix and chill' stage.”

The vibration of his laughter rumbled through her again as she shifted in his lap, making her shiver in anticipation. She could feel him pressed against her yet again, a clear sign of the effect she was having on him. Her body tensed, involuntarily, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

"River," she sighed.

"You never call me River," his mouth caught her ear, “but you've done it twice in the last five minutes.”

Her fingers instinctively reached back and coiled into the fabric of his shirt as his words washed over her.

"Is... that a problem?" she breathed, her voice shaky.

"No, I like it" he told her, using his hands on her hips to pull her back flush against his chest.

He held her close, the press of his chest against her back was comforting. If they just kept to themselves, she was sure they'd be safe.

"Good," she murmured, closing her eyes as she let her head fall back against his shoulder. His name still felt foreign, but the sound of it was growing on her. It sounded ridiculous, but she called him River in her head, yet aloud it always seemed to trip on her tongue.

As the sounds of pleasure from the room in front of them grew louder, mixed with the sounds around them, so did the tempo of their own breathing. Sid's heart rate spiked as River's hand returned to its place on her thigh, his touch sending a jolt through her.

She squirmed slightly in his grip, her body aching in response to his touch. "River," she breathed, his name suddenly feeling more familiar on her tongue as it came out again.

"I want to kiss you," he stated matter-of-factly. "It's not just the party. It's you, Sid. It's always been you.”

The soft brush of his lips against her neck made her sigh. He pulled her closer, his hands gripping her possessively, guiding her to grind against him. She could feel the hardness of him straining against her.

"We need to get out of here," he whispered against her skin. "I don't want a bunch of strangers watching the first time I make you cum." Sid groaned. "Maybe another time though," he chuckled.

"The... the target," Sid warned, her brain struggling to keep any coherent thought. "The job. We... we have to focus.”

“I don't think he's going anywhere anytime soon,” River said quietly, glancing around. “Everyone is very distracted.”

"Good, it's the right time for us to move.” She insisted.

He let go of her hips, and leaned back in the chair, she felt a pang of emptiness, a need for his touch that was almost primal.

She took a moment to collect herself, her breathing still ragged, before standing up and straightening her dress. She looked down at him, a small smirk on her face. "Better." She said decidedly.

"For you maybe," he gestured at the tightness in his trousers.

“Well I can think straight now,” Sid grinned.

The hostess walked by again, clearly looking out to make sure everything was in order.

"Having fun?" She asked.

Sid regarded her for a moment.

"Yes," she told the woman, "but I need your help.”

The hostess raised an eyebrow in curiosity, her lips curving into a pleased smile.

"Of course," she responded, stepping closer. "What can I do for you?”

“We’re looking for a private room?”

The woman smiled invitingly.

"I'm sure I can find you a private space, but not for long. Any activities are public here, that's the whole point." She explained.

"Of course," she agreed, "We just... need a moment to talk." She looked back at River.

"You can use my boss's office. He's... otherwise engaged at the moment anyway," she said, leading them to an ornate door.

Sid and River exchanged a glance then followed the woman. She could feel the heat coming off River's body, his presence a constant reminder of the desire that had built up between them.

“I'll leave you to it, but I will be back momentarily and if you're found using the room improperly, I will call security.”

“We'll be right out,” Sid told her. “I just need a bit of a… pep talk.”

The woman closed the office door behind her, leaving them alone. Sid rushed to the desk, searching the papers stacked neatly on top. River, meanwhile, began opening drawers, the sound of him rifling through the contents loud in the otherwise silent room.

"Find anything?" she hissed, not taking her eyes off the paperwork.

"Not yet, you?"

"Nothing," she complained.

He looked across at her.

"You look incredible."

"We're working," she rolled her eyes.

“We've been working the whole time, didn't stop you squirming in my lap out there.”

River couldn't help the hungry look he gave her, his eyes raking over her body. The dress had driven him almost mad and the sight of her now, intently focused on her task, made his breath catch in his throat.

"Check that drawer over there," she insisted.

"Yes boss," he teased. "You know, I could get used to you ordering me around," he commented, rummaging through the contents. "It's kind of hot. Do you own a riding crop?”

"Stop it," she pleaded. She pulled out her phone, taking pictures of various documents before making sure everything was put back correctly.

"You look beautiful when you're all focused like this. Very official. Very professional.”

"Get me home and I'll show you how unprofessional I am," she grinned.

"First you tell me you're nice rather than naughty, then you try telling me you're not the dictionary definition of professional?" He teased.

"I never said I wasn't naughty, only that I can be nice," she purred. "And when it comes to you, I am infinitely more professional. I think we've got what we need. We just need to get out of here without getting dragged into... that," she gestured outside where the sounds of flesh slapping together, and wails of pleasure were getting louder.

He stifled a groaned at the sounds coming from the corridor, the mental images they inspired sending a jolt of heat through him. With a slight shake of his head, he focused back on Sid.

"Right," he agreed, his voice a little hoarse. "The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

"If she stops us, we're just..." Sid started thinking of an excuse to leave.

"Not ready to be so public?" River suggested.

"Yeah, exactly that. You couldn't convince me, the pep talk didn't work. We make our excuses and go, let's do it." She made her way from behind the desk and took his offered hand.

As they approached the hostess, still stationed by the hall, he took the lead. With an apologetic smile that was a little too strained, he explained, "Failed, I'm afraid,” he shrugged.

“Oh no! But you seemed to be enjoying yourselves so much,” the hostess reasoned.

“All my fault, I just don't think I'm ready to be so… public.” Sid smiled regretfully.

The woman looked a little surprised.

"Here was me thinking we'd won you over, such a shame."

"Yeah, well. We've not been together long so..." Sid trailed off.

"Maybe you'll be back then. If you go out through the main doors, security can see you out. Please remain discreet about the things you've seen here. My boss is very keen to keep this a sanctuary. He'll be very angry if word gets out." The woman implored them. Sid nodded her agreement.

"Of course. thank you, it's been an eye opening experience.”

River nodded politely, his grip on Sid's hand still tight. He tried to keep his smile normal, despite the relief that was coursing through him at finally being able to leave.

"Absolutely. We appreciate the experience," he said, his voice a little stiff.

He led Sid away, steering her towards the main doors and away from the room of writhing bodies. As they walked, he let out a deep breath, relieved to be escaping.

They wasted no time in getting to his car, thanking the security staff. River pulled Sid along to where he'd parked a couple of streets away. He opened the door for her and jumped in the driver's side.

Sid couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief as she settled into the passenger seat, her body slumping back.

"That was something else," she breathed, shuddering slightly.

"You OK?" he asked, the tension between them had eased slightly, but was still tingling in the air.

"Yeah, fine."

He watched her for a moment, his eyes running over her as if checking for any signs of distress. Seeing her visibly relax reassured him, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

"Let's go, if you... still want to?" Her fingers fiddled nervously with her dress.

"I don't think I've ever wanted anything more in my life. But I get it if you want to forget everything that happened back there?"

“I'm not sure I can. I'm not sure I want to.” She admitted.

Without another word, he put the car into gear and pulled out into the street, quickly finding the route back to his apartment.

In the dim hallway, he reached for her, pulling her into his arms. She smiled bashfully.

"Probably a good thing I couldn't see your face in there," he admitted. "I don't think I'd have been able to wait.”

She laughed softly, wrapping her arms around his neck as she leaned into him. His grip was firm and possessive, holding her tightly against him as if he was scared she might disappear.

"I don't think you're the only one," she murmured, leaning up to press a soft kiss against his jaw. "I didn't think we'd ever get out of there.”

He held her face lightly, dipping his head to kiss her at last. She sighed into him, letting him deepen the kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth with a need that was almost visceral. His hands moved from her face, roaming over her body, mapping out the planes of her flesh through the thin fabric of her dress.

"How did I make it through the whole night without kissing you?" He asked.

She broke the kiss, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "I have no idea," she replied breathlessly. "It was torture."

She could feel his hands move down, his fingers tracing over her hips, her thighs, sending sparks of pleasure through her at every light touch.

"How'd you get together? Oh y'know, went to a sex party." He teased.

"I don't think we'll be telling anyone that's where it happened," Sid giggled. "That bit is just for us.”

He laughed, his hands everywhere, as if he couldn't get enough of touching her.

He leaned back, admiring the sight of her flushed and needy. "Maybe we should keep all of this to ourselves," he murmured, his voice low.

"You don't fancy going back there? Showing off?" Her hand grazed the front of his trousers.

"No," he gritted out. "I don't want anybody else seeing you like this. I'm not sharing.”

"Agreed," she kissed along his jawline, her nimble fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt.

He pulled her closer, his hands roving over the exposed flesh of her back, the contact a desperate attempt to ground himself. He found the hidden zip of her dress at her lower back and slid it down.

He watched as the dress fell from her body, pooling at her feet. The sight of her in nothing but her lace lingerie left him reeling.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire."This was worth the wait," he told her, pulling her back to him. She pulled his shirt off and let it drop to the floor.

"Definitely," she agreed, her hands running over his bare chest. The feel of her hands on him, the look of hungry desire in her eyes, sent a shiver of pleasure through him.

He walked her backwards down the hallway, his lips never leaving her skin, peppering soft kisses and light nips along her neck and shoulders. He steered her into the bedroom. He lifted her up, carrying her to the bed in one swift movement.

She squealed from over his shoulder until he gently put her down on the bed.

"You're such a child," she rolled her eyes.

He chuckled, crawling over her until he was hovering above her.

"Only sometimes," he replied with a smirk.

He lowered himself onto her, his eyes darkened with desire.

Sid hooked her legs around him, drawing his body down on top of hers and pinning her to the bed.

"You're trying to kill me," he gritted out, his voice thick with need. "You know that, right?”

"It's usually my primary intention, yes," she teased, rolling her hips up towards his.

He leaned down, capturing her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss, his tongue plundering her mouth with a need that was almost primal.

"No more games," he told her, his voice strained.

He leaned down, his lips ghosting over her neck, his teeth nipping softly at her skin, the need to mark her, to claim her, almost overwhelming. He sat up, his long fingers traced the edge of her lace underwear.

"God, Sid, you're so wet," he shuddered.

"All night, watching everyone else," she blushed.

He traced the edge of the lace, his fingers skimming over the fabric, his touch sending waves of pleasure through her.

"All night?" he asked, his voice ragged. "You've been... like this... all night?”

"I wanted you to touch me," she whispered, leaning up to kiss his neck. "I wanted everyone to see you make a mess of me," her tongue caught his earlobe.

He moved her underwear down enough to give him access to her, his fingers finding their way, a low growl escaping his throat as he felt just how ready she was for him.

"You feel so good," he whispered. "I've wanted this for so long... you have no idea.”

He watched her body arch and writhe beneath him, begging for more. He obliged, his fingers curling inside her, stretching her, his touch expert and confident. He knew exactly how to touch her, to bring her to the brink and back.

Sid felt the coil in her belly tighten, her breath hitch as he expertly guided her to the edge.

He could feel the tension in her body, the way she responded to his touch, the sound of her breath hitching in her chest. He was determined to push her for more.

"C'mon, Sid," he whispered, his voice strained with need. "Let go. I want to watch you come undone for me... just me.”

He watched as her body tensed and convulsed beneath him, her hands gripping the sheets as moans of pleasure escaped her lips. The sound of his name on her lips was like music to his ears, a song that he never wanted to stop hearing.

"That's it," he murmured, "that's my girl. Let go... just let go.

He watched as her body trembled and relaxed, her breath coming in shaky gasps as she recovered from her climax. He moved over her, his body hovering above hers, his own breathing ragged and shallow.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice a low rasp. He reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face, his touch gentle and tender.

"You're full of surprises," she teased.

"You thought it'd be awful?" he asked, wounded.

"No, no. Well, not awful. just..." she trailed off, trying to find the right words.

He chuckled softly, his wounded look quickly replaced with a smirk. "Just what?" he asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

He leaned down, his body pressing against hers, his lips brushing against her neck. "You thought I wouldn't know how to make it good for you?”

"Turns out you do," she sighed, looping her arms around his neck and wrapping her legs around him once more.

He chuckled against her neck, his hands gripping her hips as she wrapped her legs around him. “Shall I say ‘I told you so’ now, or later?" he asked, a hint of smugness in his voice.

He moved against her, his body rubbing against hers, the feel of her skin against his igniting a fire in his veins. "I think I could surprise you some more, if you wanted.”

"Yeah?" she asked, "show me then," her hand pressed insistently against him, still hidden from her by his clothes.

"Impatient, are we?"

He rose up, straddling her as he leaned back on his haunches. His hands moved to the waistband of his trousers, unbuttoning them and sliding them down his hips.

"Very," she propped up on her elbows to watch him, "we sat through some pretty intense foreplay at that party... got me a little worked up," she looked down his body, her eyes drawn to the bulge in his boxers.

Her eyes fixed on him, making his already aching cock twitch slightly.

"Is that so?"

He reached down, palming himself through the fabric, a soft groan escaping his lips. "I know the feeling.”

He watched her reaction, the way she swallowed and the way her jaw fell open as she focused on his hand. He could practically feel the hunger radiating off her and it only made him harder.

"You like what you see?" he asked, his voice rough.

He caught the look of desire in her eyes as they flicked up to meet his, her lower lip caught between her teeth. He wanted to kiss her, to feel her mouth on his, but he also wanted to keep watching her, see how far he could push her.

"Cat got your tongue, Sid?" he teased, his hand moving over himself, rubbing and squeezing through his boxers. "You can tell me what you want.”

She looked back down, transfixed watching his hand move. Then her eyes narrowed, "You're all ego, Cartwright, aren't you?”

He chuckled at her accusation, his hand still moving over himself. "I wouldn't say ego," he replied, a smirk on his face. "Just confident."

He moved closer to her, his other hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from her face. "You know why?”

"I'm sure you're going to tell me?" she challenged, feigning impatience.

He leaned down, his lips right next to her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

"Because I can tell that you want me just as much as I want you," he murmured. "And I plan to make damn sure that you never forget it.”

"Maybe you just wore me down in the end?" she suggested. His hand moved inside his boxers and her gaze moved to watch.

“Maybe," he agreed, his gaze locked on her face. He loved watching her reactions, the way her eyes fixated on what he was doing, the way her breathing grew shallow. "But you're not complaining now, are you?" he asked.

She reached out, replacing his hand with her own. "I'm not complaining, but please tell me you won't be this smug every time?”

"Every time? No," he managed to get out, his voice strained. "Just most of the time.”

She grinned, leaning up to kiss him. "I think I could put up with that," she surmised.

He returned the kiss, his hand coming up to cup her face, his tongue slipping into her mouth. He pulled her closer, their bodies pressing together, his arousal pressing against her as she pumped up and down the length of his cock.

"You're a saint," he murmured between kisses. "Putting up with my ego and all.”

"I did tell you I was nice, you wouldn't believe me," she let go of him with a pout. He dragged her underwear the rest of the way down her legs and pulled her up into his lap.

“I do remember that," he admitted, his hands roaming over her body, settling on her hips.

He groaned as he felt her warm and wet against his hardness, the feeling almost too much to bear. “Maybe you're right,” he grunted.

"I'm always right, River," she told him, one hand on his cheek. her other hand slotted between their bodies to guide herself down onto him.

He couldn't help the low moan that escaped his lips as he filled her an inch at a time. He gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her skin as he felt her body envelope him.

"You're so... confident," he managed to get out, his voice strained with pleasure. "Always so sure of yourself.”

Her head fell back as she moaned, taking him in. "Told you earlier," she gasped, "I'm better than you.”

“The fuck you are,” he leaned forward, his lips finding her neck, his teeth nipping at her skin as she rode him.

"You're a piece of work, you know that?" he rumbled, his voice ragged. "Cocky and confident, and too bloody stubborn for your own good.”

"Sounds like you've got the measure of me" she moaned.

He moved his mouth to her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, "I've got the measure of you alright."

He punctuated his words with a sharp bite to her earlobe, his hands gripping her hips tighter as he rocked up into her.

"God, River-" she gasped, gripping his shoulders as she rode him.

He loved the sound of his name on her lips, the way it sounded like a prayer. Her hands gripping his shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin, only served to push him closer to the edge.

"That's it," he rasped, his voice thick with desire. "Say my name again. I want to hear you. Let me hear you.”

She moaned again, "you're insufferable," she muttered, kissing him to stop him talking.

"And you're impossible," he retorted, his hands roaming over her back, tracing the slope of her spine.

He returned her kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth, dominating the kiss just as he was dominating her body.

Her thighs spread wider, her body pushing down onto him with more force. He groaned, his head falling back, his eyes closing as she rode him faster.

"Fuck," he hissed, his fingers gripping her hips tighter. "You feel so good. Too good. You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

“Told you, that's the aim,” she gasped a quick laugh, her lips brushing his jawline. "God, River, I'm so fucking close," she whined.

"I need to hear you say my name again, Sid," he demanded, his hands gripping her hips even tighter. "I want to hear it. I need to hear it.”

"River -" her voice broke as her body tensed and convulsed, "River, god yes," her rhythm stuttered, but his hands on her hips kept her going as he continued to rock up into her.

"Yes, Sid," he growled, his voice strained. "That's it,”

"Fuck, fuck, f-fuck, River," she pleaded as he rocked up into her over and over, his own release imminent. He groaned at the sound of his name on her lips, the way it escaped her in a needy, broken moan, it was too much for him. He could feel his own release building, his body tight with need, the edge of the abyss close.

"I'm close," he grunted, his voice strained. "So close. Come again for me, Sid. Let me see you come undone again. I need it. I need -”

Another orgasm rocketed through her, he watched, transfixed, as she came again. He was done for. The sight of her losing control, the sound of his name on her lips, it sent him over the edge. He groaned, a low, guttural sound as his body tensed and he came hard inside her, her name a gasp on his lips.

Holding herself up for as long as she could, Sid collapsed against River, bonelessly, breathlessly.

"So... who's the best?" she mumbled against his neck.

River laughed as she collapsed against him, her body completely spent. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, his hands roaming lazily over her skin.

"Tempted to say it's me, just for the sake of my ego," he joked.

"Your fucking ego," she laughed into him.

"Can you blame me? I just made you come twice," he teased.

"Three times, actually. In total." She lifted her head to kiss him, lazy and sated.

"Plenty of time to up that number," he told her confidently, "I can do better.”

“Prove it,” she grinned.

Lamb scrolled through the photos on Sid's phone.

“It all looks fucking useless to me,” he shrugged. “But you never know, Taverner might find something useful in this pile of shit.”

He chucked the phone on the desk towards Sid.

“You idiots find anything else interesting?”

“Nah, nothing.” Sid brushed him off.

“Nope, pretty boring really.” River added.

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