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infinitebells · 4 years

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hate me. (h. iwaizumi)

genre: smut, fluff if you squint

description: you and iwaizumi used to be lovers, that is until you realized he was apart of the rival gang of your brother, daichi. what happens when you reunite during a job to take out his gang’s leader?

word count: 3656

warnings: mafia au, dom!iwa, fingering, light bondage (handcuffs), choking, degradation, mention of jealousy, hate fucking, orgasm denial, dumbification, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie, daddy is mentioned like one time, dacryphilia one time

a/n: this is my first piece for tumblr!! i really hope you guys like it, obviously give feedback, i’ll appreciate everything!! i also can’t remember how or why this idea came to me but it sat halfway done in my drafts for like a month or two before i finished it all tonight.

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“daichi where the HELL is the target?!" you growled through the earpiece, frustration flooding through your veins as you tried to spot the man through the scope of your sniper rifle. your fingers clenched the handle of your gun as your finger hovered steadily over the trigger.

your brother sawamura daichi, otherwise known as “king pin" throughout the japanese underworld, had assigned you to take out a member of a rival gang that had been screwing with your brother's cargo operations. he was confident in your sniping abilities, simply because he was the one who taught you everything he knew.

“i don't fucking know, suga said oikawa would be at the event tonight. he confirmed it with tendou too," his voice strained as his anger started to seep through the small wire resting daintily behind your ear. you huffed hearing the maniacal red head's name. his own gang wasn't necessarily an ally of karasuno however, shiratorizawa also wanted oikawa's organization taken down too.

“you know how goddamn crazy he is, how do we know he's a reliable source dumbass?" you gritted out, staring down every patron through the glass of your scope.

“he was. luckily, we have better sources love," a voice rasped right next to the same ear that held your ear piece. you could feel every cell in your body freeze from the foreign voice right next to your now ice cold ear, the intruder's lips faintly ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"Y/N WHO THE HELL IS THAT?!" you could hear daichi's voice through your comms, but had no way to respond as your new companion gently plucked it out of your ear.

“hello again daichi-san. I'll make sure to take care of your sister while we have her," the new voice spoke lowly, the slight rasp ticking you off as you finally recognized it.

“hello iwa-chan. so nice to see you again," you finally said as you looked slightly to the side to see your only communication to your brother and the rest of the team crack and shatter underneath his foot. the last thing you heard was your brother's and suga's frantic voices screaming through their mics. you hadn't moved a muscle yet, but feeling the man behind you stand up from his crouching position gave you the opening you needed. you whirled around, swinging your gun as swiftly as you could towards his face, hoping to get a shot off on him. unfortunately, he predicted your movements. as you release the trigger, he dodged to the left as his left hand darted out, grabbing the end of your rifle as his other hand flew out and gripped your throat, pushing you up against the edge of your roof. you forced yourself to remain calm, realizing you were on the verge of plummeting to your death, knowing the only thing between you living and dying was the well built, smirking man standing before you, his body uncomfortably close to your own.

“i wouldn't do that if i were you sweetheart, unless you want to die without seeing your brother again," he said, gently pulling the gun from your right hand. his smirk grew wider as your glare hardened, only encouraging him to grab your right hand and pulling you closer, twisting it behind your back, his grip on your neck still firm as ever.

you hadn't seen the man before you since your first days in the gang with daichi. at the time, you didn't know anything about his rivals or allies. which was why you found yourself dancing in a club, with iwaizumi grinding on your backside. you two had shared a few steamy nights together, basking in each others unbridled lust and love for one another. until one night, you were spending another night with him at a different club with a few of his gang members watching you closely, when your brother, accompanied by suga and asahi, stormed through the door, guns loaded. you had turned frantically towards iwaizumi, taking one look at his facial expression before understanding what had happened. since then, you had avoided him at all costs, putting your whole being into fueling the rivalry between your brother's gang and iwaizumi’s gang.

“bravo iwa-chan! you did it!" you rolled your eyes seeing oikawa, clad in his usual midnight black suit with light blue accents, clapping slowly as he emerged from the door leading to the roof you had been stationed on. you hadn’t seen the brown-haired gang leader since the shoot out between him and your brother, and you certainly were only planning on seeing him tonight, preferably dead. iwaizumi turned to glance at oikawa before spinning around and moving you so your back was pressed tightly against his chest. your gun clattered to the ground as he grabbed both of your wrists in one had, using the other to secure them tightly behind your back, the clanking of handcuffs jolting you out of your own head.

“it's best if you don't struggle y/n,” iwaizumi's low voice spoke against the shell of your ear.

“if you struggle y/n-chan, i’ll have mattsun put a bullet through daichi-san's head!" oikawa spoke in his usually cheery voice, his head tilting to the side as he smiled widely at you. it was moments like those that truly showcased his almost psychopathic nature as a gang leader.

"NO YOU CAN'T!" your voice cracked, wrists straining against iwaizumi's tight hold. he held you tighter, yanking you back, making sure to secure the handcuffs even tighter.

“then don't struggle!" iwaizumi growled in your ear, tugging on the cuffs so they dug painfully into your wrists.

“fuck you," you responded, smirking at oikawa as you attempted to piece together how to best get out of the situation.

“i’ve already had the pleasure of doing it once before, but i’ll be happy to do it again," iwaizumi responded, and you grit your teeth in frustration.

“now now y/n-chan, we have to bring you downstairs to the car that's so eagerly waiting for us, so you can either behave until we get there, or your brother and everyone else in your pathetic excuse for a gang will be picked off one by one. understood?" oikawa explained, a dangerous gleam in his chocolate brown eyes. as stubborn as you were, you couldn't risk putting your brother and everyone else at risk, especially the younger, more bright-eyed members like hinata and yamaguchi. so, you stayed silent, only staring down seijoh’s leader who had moved in front of you, bending down to peer into your eyes.

“i’ll take your silence as your choice to behave. wonderful! iwa-chan, put your jacket over her shoulders so no one can see her cuffs," oikawa ordered, and iwaizumi nodded before moving in front of you. he shrugged the black jacket off of his shoulders before tugging it onto your own, your arms still behind you as the sleeves of his oversized jacket dangled loosely in the breeze. you took a moment to look him over, taking note of the black jeans that adorned his legs, the light blue bandana attached to a belt loop on his left hip, and the tight black t-shirt that accentuated every single one of his deftly toned muscles.

“stop staring sweetheart, you're being too obvious," his voice jerked your eyes back to his own. without a second of hesitation, you brought your knee up, slamming it into his lower region, before walking around his now crumpled form, following oikawa. he groaned from behind you, forcing himself to get up as his friend and leader watched the scene with slight amusement present on his pretty face.

“oikawa, leave and give me a minute alone with her. i think she ought to learn some damn manners before we take her down," iwaizumi spoke lowly, his usual level voice now shook slightly with anger. your eyes widened as oikawa smirked towards his friend before turning around and opening the door.

“do as you want. i’ll give you a half hour, just don't kill her please!" he responded, waving his hand to his friend before letting the door slam shut behind him. your heart dropped to the depths of your stomach as you willed yourself to turn and face iwaizumi hajime, who's gaze was trained on your small frame. as soon as he made a move towards you, you turned towards the door, sprinting to the best of your abilities in hopes that you could make it inside without having to face iwaizumi's obvious rage.

just as you made it to the door, his hand shot out and grabbed you by the back of the neck, flipping you around, and pressing you against the door, thumbs squeezing dangerously tight around your esophagus. his eyes were lit with pure fury as his grip around your throat tightened. despite the very dangerous situation you were in, your body still reacted to his close proximity and touch. you were ashamed to feel that familiar warmth you used to feel with him pool in your lower abdomen, but you forced yourself to match iwaizumi's hardened gaze as his eyes bore into your own.

“that was a dangerous move love. you're just asking to get punished aren't you?" he whispered, his head parallel to yours as his teeth grazed over the shell of your ear. You internally reprimanded yourself as a shiver flowed from the top of your spine, all the way down to your feet. You knew this man, this lover you once had, had noticed your movement, and he pulled back to smirk wildly at you.

“i’m sure if i stuck my hand down your pants right now, i’d pull my fingers out and they'd be soaking wet wouldn't they?" he questioned, and you could do nothing to stop the light blush flowering against your cheeks.

“shall i test that theory out love?" his voice was just barely above a whisper now. no matter how much you wanted to say no, to scream at him to get off, to kick him in the nuts once again, you didn't have the self control to do so when you felt his unoccupied hand ghost over your clothed crotch. instead, you stared him straight in the eyes, almost daring him to do what he so desperately wanted to do. he grinned, pushing his fingers past the waist band of your leggings to rest delicately over your underwear, his pointer finger hovering over your clit.

it took every fiber of your being to not moan out loud right there as slick started pooling in your underwear, waiting to be released. he gently rubbed his pointer finger along your slit through your underwear, stopping for a moment before pressing lightly onto your small bundle of nerves (which you swore would be the death of you). you couldn't help the slightly sharp intake of breath as you felt him give more attention to your clit, pressing lightly and rubbing impossibly small circles onto it outside of your underwear.

what frustrated you most was that he knew every nook and cranny of your body. every beauty mark he had kissed five times over, every dip and valley of your breasts down to your navel, and every spot covered by your underwear that turned you into putty in his hands. you hated how he knew exactly what to do to rile you up. the fucker knew that one swipe of his finger-

“fuck," you whimpered out, losing grasp of the control you thought you had. you were so lost in your own head you hadn't realized he had sneakily moved your underwear to the side and rubbed a semi circle along your clit. that one single move had always been your downfall. it had pushed you over the edge so many times for him, he had practically memorized the exact motion that had you moaning for him.

“attention on me love. we only have about 25 minutes left right? wouldn't want to waste it in your own head," he said before taking you by surprise and pushing two of his long, thick fingers into your soaked cunt. you couldn't help the cry of pleasure that spilled out of your mouth like honey, your body immediately reacting to his familiar touch. except this time around, it was different. he pressed more into that one spot inside of you that forced stars into your vision with more precision, pushing into it so that your legs went weak. his fingers flew in and out of your cunt, juices building up and dripping into your underwear as he continued to smirk down at your weakening state.

“i’ve changed you know. fine tuned my ways. i met a few girls since the last time you and i saw each other," he confidently stated, his words lighting you up with pure jealously.

“iwaizumi shut the fuck u-" but you didn't get the chance to finish your sentence as his grip tightened on your throat, stopping your voice. simultaneously, he shoved a third finger into you and abused that spongy section inside of you. another, louder moan of unbridled ecstasy was forced out of your throat, and you hated how much he was turning you on. his fingers thrusted rapidly in and out, in and out, until you felt like you were going to go numb from pleasure.

“such harsh words princess, i thought we were starting to get along again," he teased, his fingers pushing harder into your g-spot simply to illicit a choked moan from you.

“i hate you," you breathed out, and he shook his head. he quickened the pace of his fingers, and the squelching sound of your pussy only spurred on more of your guilty moans.

“f-fuck," you whimpered, trying to catch your breath from the overwhelming pleasure iwaizumi gave you. he knew from the slightly dazed look and the whimpers escaping your throat that you were close. as soon as he connected the dots, he yanked his glistening fingers out of your spasming cunt, ripping away your glorious orgasm. a cry of defeat left your lips, and a second later, you were whirled around so your face was pressed against the door and your leggings were yanked down to your ankles, along with your black panties.

“only good girls get to cum. i don't think you've been a good girl. i think you've been a cock hungry slut hm? such disrespect for your daddy," he clicked his tongue in annoyance, and you finally found your voice once again.

“iwaizumi i swear to god-" his hand wrapped tighter around your throat as you felt his clothed hips push forwards to grind on your own.

“princess, if you keep back talking, you won't get to cum OR see your brother again. the choice is yours," he said, and your pussy clenched at his dominating tone. your natural instincts were forcing your head to swim with pure lust and desire, forgetting completely about the original situation you were put in. the clink of Iwaizumi's belt elicited another whimper from your throat. low chuckles invaded your head, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. your weak moaning only spurred iwaizumi on. his shiny fingers, coated in your essence pushed past your lips, pressing down on your tongue.

“taste yourself love, see how slutty you are? how badly you want to get fucked into oblivion? i wonder what your teammates, what your brother would say if they knew you were letting me treat you like the whore you are," he growled out. juices gathered below you as your hole clenched around nothing. you moaned around his fingers as you feel the head of his cock push against your ass cheeks. your tongue swirled around them, cleaning them of every drop of your essence, the essence he had skillfully drawn out of you. after cleansing his fingers of your juices, iwaizumi pulled his fingers out of your mouth, allowing your drool to drip down your chin.

“beg for me like the cock hungry slut you are," his voice was the only thing you could focus on, your primal instincts taking over before you could stop them.

“please iwa, i-i need you inside of m-me, please f-fuck m- AHHH!" all the breathe left your lungs as iwaizumi shoved his entire length into you, his tip brushing against your cervix. short shallow breaths escaped you, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes from the sheer force of his thick cock invading you.

“ahh, there we go princess. that feel good huh?" his arrogance sparked something inside of you.

“f-fuck y-you," the breathiness of your voice betrayed the bite behind your words. his low chuckles were the only warning you were given before he pulled out and slammed all of himself back into you, setting a brutally fast and hard pace. screams erupted from your throat, your nerve endings firing erratically at the sheer pleasure he was fucking into you. iwaizumi angled your hips to push into that one spot that had your vision go white. whatever fight you had left in you dissipated almost instantly, your bones going limp in his hold as broken moans and occasional screams were torn from your throat. noticing your body grow limp, one of his hands snaked around to grasp your throat again, while the other held you up by your waist.

“oh is that your spot love? i can feel you creaming all over me," he rasped out. his words made you unconsciously clench around him, eliciting a groan from the man behind you.

"'m close iwa, f-feels s'good," you slurred out, your grasp on reality waning from the snap of his hips against yours.

“is my little cock slut getting fucked stupid hm? can't think about anything but my cock split-fuck, splitting you open huh?" you wanted to growl back at him, argue, be a brat, do something, but the way his tip brushed against your g-spot, and the way he was pounding into you the exact way you desperately needed rendered you utterly helpless in his arms.

“fuck i missed this princess," his voice so low you barely caught it. his words injected a warm feeling in your bones, his hold on your throat loosening at his confession.

“haji, please," you finally whimpered, your eyes fluttering close as your head tipped back to rest on his shoulder. his lips attached themselves to your neck, pressing light kisses right above your sweet spot. his thrusts kept hitting all the right spots, and that familiar warmth built up in your lower abdomen again. you could feel the buildup spreading throughout your limbs and tingling into your toes and fingers.

“cum for me love," his words were softer this time, more affection slipping through his usual harsh tone. it was all you needed to allow yourself to let out one final moan, bursting at his slight command. you gushed around him, dripping down his balls and onto the ground beneath you both. white spots clouded your vision as your hearing dulled for a moment. your cunt clenching and fluttering around his painfully hard cock was all it took for him to release into you. his warm load painted your walls white, some leaking out as he thrust up into you a few more times to help fuck you through your earth shattering orgasm.

after a couple more thrusts, he stilled inside of you, completely removing the hand around your throat to rest on the wall in front of you for support. his other arm tightened around your waist, keeping you close to him to help you stand since your legs hadn't stopped shaking for the past five minutes. shaky breaths exited both of you as you both attempted to catch your breath.

iwaizumi wordlessly turned you around so your back was to the wall, giving you a view of his disheveled state. his cheeks were tainted pink, sweat beading at his hairline as his chest continue to heave slightly from the exertion. His right arm was still extended against the wall for support as his other arm moved to tuck himself back into his pants. he removed his arm from the wall and fumbled with his belt before finally redoing it. you admired him as you leaned into the wall, still attempting to ground yourself after the mind blowing sex the two of you had. iwaizumi untied a light blue bandana from one of his belt loops, moving closer to you. he gently wiped the mess of your and his cum that was dripping from your (still quivering) cunt. sharp intakes of breath signaled for him to go slower, so as not to overstimulate you. he softly cleaned the rest of your lower half before dropping the bandana onto the ground and kneeling to pull your underwear and pants back up.

“what happens now?" you were surprised your voice didn't crack, but you were proud that it hadn't nonetheless. iwaizumi finally met your eyes, a slight sigh escaping him.

“i take you down to the car and hope oikawa doesn't tease us," he explains. a breathless laugh leaves your lips, iwaizumi matching you with a chuckle of his own.

“i still hate you," you say after a beat, looking down at your feet to try and hide the blush still decorating your cheeks. iwaizumi's finger hooks itself under your chin, carefully moving your face up so your eyes can meet his.

“i know. i hate you too," he finished with a kiss, the soft pressure against your own lips melting you from the inside out. you push back against him, unable to help yourself. he finally pulls away, blushing lightly, as he pulls his jacket tighter around your shoulders before pulling the door open and leading you through it.

•••

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwaizumi hajime smut #iwaizumi hajime scenarios #hq smut #hq x reader #haikyuu mafia #haikyuu mafia au #tw degradation #tw choking

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themadauthorshatter · 3 years

Text

... I’ve already made a draft of this and deleted it, but I’m going back in.

This is an AU of what would happen if Mareven was healthy and the end game.

I apologize in advance for any and all MareCal shippers, including myself.

SO! What happens?

Simple.

Everything remains mostly the same in the story except we get more of a doubtful and uneasy Maven as the story progresses, as in he hugs Mare a little longer and is genuinely perturbed when he hears about the ‘bomb’ that went off and looks terrified of Cal when he returns and orders Farley to be tortured. He’s also more hesitant to listen to his mother.

He still offers Cal’s legion to the Guard, but is a little sadder to say it.

THEN WE GET TO THE PLOT TWIST OF THE STORY!!!!!!!!!

Maven plays along, but, as he stands by his mother’s side, he mouths, “sorry” to Mare and goes for a gun on Arven’s belt, shooting him in the leg and warning him not to try silencing him or he’ll aim for something more vital.

It catches EVERYONE off guard, especially Elara, who’s about to risk having Cal or Tibe out of her whispers to get Maven back in line.

Instead, Elara asks what he’s doing and why, as she thought this was what he’d always wanted.

“It’s what you want, Mother. Not me. None of this is right. You’re already the Queen. What else do you want!?”

Elara bares her teeth. “Are you saying you want to live your days with a Red rat?”

Maven pulls Mare to her feet and pushes her behind him, keeping the gun at them, nodding. “I’m saying I'm not following your plans or listening to anything you have to say. I'll die before I let you in my head again!”

Well, wish granted because Mare senses the cameras turning back on and Elara lets Tibe and Cal go.

Only to force Maven to shoot her and Tibe, though Maven actually misses him.

Mare breaks free and they make a run for it, Elara shouting that they are traitors and to arrest them, though she does force Tibe to play the part of concerned husband.

Cal isn't in the room because he races after Maven and Mare.

Speaking of which, Maven leads Mare through the castle and finds a hall that goes toward a servant's passage, so they can escape.

Too bad there are guards that round the corner and take aim at them, not only for staging a coup de ta, but also for attempted regicide.

Cal's there too, aiming a handgun at them and telling them to submit to arrest.

They do and are sent to the Silent Stone cells.

Mare is confused and livid and doesn't want to talk to Maven, who keeps pacing and clutching his head and telling someone to be quiet.

Mare mentally tells him to maybe practice what he’s preaching, but wonders what the hell all that was when they were captured.

Maven sighs and sits down, back-to-back with Mare, and asks her how good she is at picking locks.

Her hands are for picking pockets, not locks.

Maven lets out a semi-bitter chuckle and regards that he shouldn’t have bothered asking because of course she’s better at pockets. he then admits that he’d been so scared of the cells as a boy, his young mind tricking him into thinking that there were monsters or prisoners in the cells.

Speaking of the cells, Mare breaks her silence and asks why it’s so hard for her to use her powers, even asking if Arven is close by listening to them.

Maven admits it would be useful to do that, but no. The cells are made of Silent Stone, which is basically Arven being there without him really being there.

Although she already knows what’s going to happen, Mare wonders what will happen to them, in the Bowl of Bones.

Maven lists off a firing squad, some Silvers, maybe some animals, and the fact that no matter what, the show will not be short; the people want blood and Tibe is going to give them blood, even if it’s his own son’s.

“Not if he can’t find you.”

Both Mare and Maven stand as Cal walks in, dressed formally and holding a set of keys to the cells.

Maven asks what this is and what Cal’s doing as he opens both Maven’s and Mare’s cells.

Cal explains that he’s already had to give Julian a head start and hopes that Maven and mare can do the same, can vanish into thin air before their execution.

Mare asks why they should accept the help, seeing as Cal’s the one who arrested them, but Cal counters by asking who’s idea it was to get them arrested, glaring daggers at Maven.

Maven has his own question: How does Cal know they won’t be seen?

Cal looks away and admits that he hopes there aren’t any Red servants that know how to fix the security system.

Maven and Mare exchange a glance and start walking, but Cal gets between them, shackles them, and grabs their arms, telling them to play along and make it convincing so no one questions anything.

They both do their best reluctant prisoners act up until they pass by Sonya, who inquires as to where Cal’s taking them.

Cal states he’s just taking them to get some cardio before their execution, seeing as how they’ll need every ounce of strength they’ll need.

Sonya spits that they shouldn’t and should actually fight with nooses around their necks so they’re easier to grab and throw around, but drops it anyway, eying Cal before she leaves.

Time’s almost up, so it’s a good thing Maven leads Cal to a servant passage, where they stop and get free, Maven getting his flame-maker bracelets back.

Maven opens the passage, but Cal stops him and Mare, telling them to be careful now, because if they manage to escape, they’ll be fugitives and will get hunted like deer for treason, Maven for attempted regicide, from what narrative that now exists.

They nod and thank him for the help.

Before Mare can follow Maven, Cal grabs her arm again, which makes Mare turn to him.

The two stare at each other, realizing what’s happening and what’s going to happen.

The royals will figure out that Cal helped them escape and will probably have him killed for letting two traitors run free.

Cal is the one who helped her in the first place by getting her the job at the Summer Palace, and now he’s saving her life again, this time also saving his brother’s and risking his own.

Maven shouts for Mare to keep it moving and Mare pulls out of Cal’s grip, backs away, and races after Maven, Cal watching her leave before closing the passage.

His face contorts with sorrow, regret, anger, and pain and he clenches a fist as he hears a sentinel shout that Mare and Maven are missing.

Cal shouts, “They’re this way!” and races down the hallway and away from the bookshelf, trying to make it look like they outran him.

In the passage, Maven leads Mare by the hand as they soon find themselves underground and under the streets, overhearing an announcement to keep an eye out for the two of them because both are armed and dangerous, Mare especially.

Maven groans at his father’s words and muses that at least they’re out.

Mare isn’t as relieved and asks what he was planning with his mother.

Maven stops in his steps and states that she already knows.

Mare does know, she just wants to hear Maven say it.

Maven bites his tongue and clenches his fist at his side, not turning to face Mare as he asks what will happen if he doesn’t tell her.

She’ll make him tell her, make him talk or she’ll shock him until he dies.

Maven tightens his fist but then drops it, admitting he and Elara planned on killing Tibe and using Mare and Cal as scapegoats, sending them to the Bowl of Bones, and having them executed to wrap up the story and solidify Maven as the new King, with no Scarlet Guard and no loose ends to ensure the story of Mare being a Red would slip out.

Mare demands he define ‘loose ends.’

Lady Blonos. The servant girls who dressed Mare as a Silver. Lucas. Julian. Sara. Mare’s family. Kilorn. Cal. Mare herself. All the Reds on the list Julian gave her.

Mare gasps at that last one, sliding down a wall as Maven explains in increasing panic and with his eyes growing teary that he was along with the ride and all for getting the throne the way his mother planned, but then he began to feel genuine feelings for Mare and her plight and no matter how much Elara tried to take those feelings away, they always came back. She did the same with Tibe, making Maven lose his love for him, and had semi-success with Cal, but didn’t fully remove his love for his brother. It also changed when they killed Blonos and the servant girls, and when Tristan died. It opened Maven’s eyes and made him realize that he was going to kill someone he didn’t want to die. he’d already lost Thomas and it was his own fault, but if he was the reason he lost Mare, too, he’d lose his mind.

Maven stops his rambling and joins Mare against the wall, admitting that he knows he deserves whatever comes next, but whatever does happen, he just asks that mare know that he is sorry for all of this, for putting her in such danger that now they’re on the run and risk execution if they’re caught.

Mare turns to him and asks if Elara has the list, if he told her about the Newbloods.

Maven shakes his head; the raid was going to happen in a few hour hours, so there wouldn’t have been enough time for Elara to look through his mind, write down all the names, and the find them in the blood base, so they have a good head start there, too.

After a minute of collecting themselves, and a glare from Mare, the two stand up and keep walking until they reach a fork in the path and wonder which is safer.

The only answer they get is a gun pushed against the back of Maven's head and a certain blaonde telling him to go right or she's painting the tunnel Silver.

Mare turns and sees Kilorn and Farley, with the addition of a certain Barrow we all still mourn, don't lie.

"Shade!"

Mare and Shade reunite, though Maven voices confusion as he thought Shade had been executed.

Shade explains that they tried and failed, making an example by teleporting in front of and behind them, saying with pride that no one's faster than him.

Mare is a mix of happy and sad at the news, but Farley brings them back and reminds them they need to keep going or they'll get arrested and killed.

Maven also gets put back in shackles, but acts as a good sport and doesn't burn them off.

They continue throught the tunnel until they reach a train, climb aboard, and get to riding, merrily on their way to nowhere in particular.

Back in White Fire, Elara slaps Cal HARD in the face and demands to know what he was thinking and where Maven and Mare are.

Tibe gets between them, but Cal admits that he didn't fully know what he was thinking, just that he couldn't let his brother be forced to fight when he's still in training. It would be a bloodbath.

Elara asks if that's the same reason why he also let Mare go, or if there's something he's not telling them.

Tibe also wants to know. He understands letting Maven go, but why a Red rat like Mare? If the people see her lightning powers and Red blood, there will be Hell to pay.

Cal's silent, but Elara solves that with a quick look into his mind, seeing all the moments of Cal and Mare being close and friendly with each other.

Elara asks Cal if he's more interested in dirt than diamonds and Tibe gets the picture instantly, upon seeing Cal's reaction.

Change of plan: Cal is getting his legion back in action, and an additional two hundred soldiers to locate and either capture or kill Mare and Maven. No more catch and releases or else it's Cal who fights in the arena and he'll have nothing but his wits to defend himself.

Cal pales at this and gasps that they can't kill him, because then Norta has no heir.

Tibe only glares at him and tells him not to fail before leaving to let Cal get his army ready.

Cal watches his father leave and is broken by the fact that he legitimately screwed up and that his father, as King, needs Maven, his own son, executed with Mare, someone who never should have had her powers to begin with.

Elara glares at Cal for a moment longer and also walks out of the room, leaving Cal on his own.

#red queen #mare barrow #maven calore #tiberias calore vii #cal calore #tiberias calore vi #elara merandus #au #ua #mareven #healthy mareven #I'm making Cal the antagonist and I'm so sorry #sorry to marecal shippers everywhere

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is-it-madness · 4 years

Text

Metal Fingers

A/N 1: This fic is for my lovely beta/bestie @wowjeena Heyyo, would you be up to writing a soulmate au with Bucky? You can choose which type of soulmate au but can you make the reader a normal person (so not an Avenger or anything related)?? Thanks girl and if you don’t wanna that’s chill 👉🏼👉🏼 So... it’s not exactly a soulmate au, but I hope this is okay instead ☺️💜💜 I’m also so sorry it took so long. I hope you like it, my dear.

A/N 2: The Bucky Barnes Exhibit states he was born in 1916, but at the bottom where it gives his life span, it says he was born in 1917. I googled it to find the correct year, and it said 1917… I don’t know what to do with that information, other than to tell you guys there’s a mistake in the movie.

A/N 3: I apparently couldn’t make this a one shot, so it’ll be a multi part story. I’m aiming between 3-5 parts

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x single mom!reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.5k+

~~~

Part 1

A Fallen Comrade.

James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes

Born in 1916, Barnes grew up the oldest child of four. An excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom. Barnes enlisted in the Army shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor. After winter training at Camp McCoy, Wisconsin, Barnes and the rest of the 107th shipped out to the Italian front. Captured by Hydra troops later that fall, Barnes endured long periods of isolation, deprivation and torture. But his will was strong. In an ironic twist of fate, his prison camp was liberated by none other than his childhood friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America.

Reunited, Barnes and Rogers led Captain America’s newly formed unit, The Howling Commandos. Barnes’ marksmanship was invaluable as Rogers and his team destroyed Hydra bases and disrupted Nazi troop movements throughout the European Theater.

He knew these words. He read and reread them dozens— if not hundreds— of times. He wrote them down in every one of his notebooks as he was scrapping, searching for his memories that were just out of his reach. He could nearly taste them. They fluttered teasingly in front of him: close, but not close enough for him to snatch out of the air of uncertainty.

He pulled a fresh notebook from his bag and a pencil, worried away from teeth and words.

Start with what you know…

My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I was taken captive by Hydra and was used by them. I know a man named Steve. He was my friend.

He trailed off. This is where he always was left floating in a sea of not knowing. He was left grasping for more. He was a starved man, empty without his memories. The few he managed to uncover did little to tide him over from insanity. He bit at that familiar indentation on his pencil, trying to think of something, anything at this point that was more than those four simple sentences he’s written everyday for the past several weeks. Sighing and pulling his baseball cap lower in frustration, Bucky returned his supplies to his bag, stood, and swung it over his right shoulder. Eyes low, and clutching his bag, Bucky made his way towards the exit of the crowded museum. Ever since the Potomac, this section of the Smithsonian was more packed than usual.

Nearly there. Nearly there.

It was an understatement to say that Bucky Barnes didn’t like crowded areas. Too many bodies, pressing, and pushing against each other, loud noises, pointless conversations discussing mundane things.

Nearly there. Nearly ther—

“Oof!”

He wouldn’t have noticed the boy that ran into him if his bag hadn’t slipped from his hand, spilling out the contents onto the floor. Bucky hurriedly crouched to retrieve his precious memories. He barely registers the boy picking up the items that had strayed a bit further.

“Here you go Mister! I’m sorry for bumping into you like that.”

Bucky silently takes his belongings back from the little boy standing in front of him.

Bucky unintentionally begins to analyze him.

Probably seven or eight. Bright eyes. Tousled hair. Skinny. Doesn’t clear 100 pounds soaking.

He shakes his head. Stop. No more.

“Whoa, cool! Metal fingers!!”

Bucky quickly retracts his fingerless-gloved hand.

The boy pulls his hand from his sweatshirt pocket. “Yours are cooler, but I have metal fingers too! Well, actually it’s a metal arm because the doctors had to get rid of my real one because I got hurt super bad, but I think it’s really cool.”

The boy said this all extremely fast, Bucky had to blink a few times to register what he had said. A compliment? For his hand? A hand that’s maimed, killed, and caused so many people to suffer?

“Uh… I… I have a metal arm too.”

The little boy’s eyes widened even more. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but Bucky took off his glove and showed it to the boy.

He took Bucky’s hand in his and stared at it, looking back and forth at Bucky’s hand and his. Bucky stood there stiffly, unsure how to respond. The boy looked up at Bucky solemnly.

“Do you have super powers?” he whispered.

Bucky couldn’t help but crack a smile at his seriousness, but before he could answer, a woman came running through the crowd.

“Noah!”

The boy turned to give her a lopsided grin. “Hi Mom!”

“How many times have I told you to stay by my side, young man?”

The boy, Noah, dropped Bucky’s hand and took a step closer to the woman. “Sorry. But Mom!”

A raised brow silenced Noah. The woman looked up at Bucky.

“I’m so sorry if he was bothering you. He’s very social.”

Bucky forgot how to speak for a minute. The woman standing in front of him was… well, he’d never seen anyone as beautiful as her. Bright, sparkling eyes confirming where Noah got his from, a soft voice, and a sweet smile.

“Oh, uh, no. I mean, he is. I mean‒” When was the last time he had gotten tongue-tied?

Bucky cleared his throat, forced himself to try to ignore the sweet smile that was widening, and tried again. “He wasn’t bothering me. We were just talking about‒”

“His metal arm! Look at it, Mom!” Noah hurries back to Bucky’s side and holds his mechanical hand. “Look how awesome it is! And it’s huge!” He started poking Bucky’s upper arm and gasps. “And so are his muscles!! I bet he could crush anything!”

Noah began miming picking up heavy objects or crushing imaginary things, complete with sound effects. Bucky doesn’t miss Noah’s mother’s eyes widen slightly when Noah pointed out how massive his biceps are.

“Noah, honey, why don’t we go check out the exhibit?”

“Oh yeah! Let’s go, Mom!” He nearly takes off again before giving his mother a sheepish smile.

“What did you do?”

“I… I turned our map into a paper airplane.”

“And?”

“And... it… flew out of my hands?”

“Mm hmm. I see. Well, I guess we’ll just have to come back another time.”

Noah gasps and clutches his mom’s hand. “No! Please Mom! Don’t do this to me!!”

Her laugh causes Bucky’s heart to skip a few beats, and it frustrates him that he doesn’t know why.

“Which exhibit are you looking for?”

Noah looks at Bucky and salutes. “We’re here to see the Mister Captain America exhibit.”

“I could take you guys there.”

What. On earth. Gave him that idea?!

“Woo! Let’s‒”

Noah’s cheer was cut off by his mother. “Oh, no that’s okay. I’m sure you’re busy and you probably have something to get to you.”

She’s right… Why did I even offer in the first place? I can’t‒

“It’s not a problem. I was heading over there right now actually.”

Jesus! What’s wrong with me?

Noah grabbed his mother’s hand and followed Bucky to the famed exhibit.

~~~

“So, I take it Noah’s a fan of the Captain?”

The beautiful lady standing next to him nodded. “Yeah, Noah loves him; really looks up to him.”

“Makes sense, he’s a good guy.”

“Sounds like you’ve met him before.”

“You could say that.”

They were pulled away from their conversation when Noah ran up to them, grinning.

“Mom! Look how skinny Steve was! And, and his friend? Um… Bucky? Yeah! Bucky! He would always help Steve out because Steve would always get in fights! So Bucky would come and have to save him!”

Noah then proceeded to animatedly tell his audience how Steve became the Captain and fought in the War. When he went to go read the display in front of Steve’s motorcycle, Bucky turned back to the woman.

“Is this his first time here?”

She nodded and smiled. “I promised I would take him when I had a day off. He’s been waiting for weeks.”

A pause.

“How ‘bout you?”

“What?” Damn that smile! He got distracted.

“I take it this isn’t your first time here?”

“No, ma’am.”

Her giggle caused his firm expression to slip into a small smile.

Bucky spent the rest of the afternoon showing Noah around. He learned that Noah and his mother had been in a terrible car accident two years before. The injuries Noah sustained to his right arm were irreversible, thus leading to an amputation, a prosthetic arm, and even though she didn’t say, expensive medical bills burdened on his mother.

When the museum closed, Noah was asking his mother when they’d be able to return.

“I’m not sure baby. How about next weekend?”

Noah did a little dance showing his affirmation. Then he looked at Bucky.

“Will you be here too, Mr. James?”

“Uh, yeah sure kid. I’ll be here.”

Noah fist pumped as his mother said goodbye to Bucky.

~~~

Holy shit. Holy shit!

You had been trying to keep your cool ever since you found Noah with James. You were eating dinner and you still hadn’t gotten over him. That man was fucking stunning. Blue, blue eyes that were filled with such sorrow, a smile that made your insides flutter, and a deep voice you were willing to listen to for hours on end. Soft and sonorous. And he was so sweet and kind with Noah. That alone had you taking a liking to him.

“Mom?! Mom!”

“Oh— sorry, baby. What’s wrong?”

“Thanks for taking me to the museum.”

You ruffle his hair. “Thanks for being so patient for me.”

He smiles as he shovels pasta into his mouth.

~~~

My Ride or Die:

@lehuka123 @thejournalman @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @rebloggingeverything @just-the-hiddles @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @thehumanistsdiary @fanfictionaries @astheworlddturns @bbarnestan @buckyfan12

#bucky fic #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #Bucky Barnes fic #Bucky x you #Bucky Barnes x you #Bucky Barnes fluff #bucky x single mom #Bucky Barnes x single mom #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Metal Fingers #thea writes #Metal Fingers part 1

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aquaquadrant · 3 years

Text

the little things

Kenji’s mouth is dry. “Ben…?” he croaks out.

Ben swallows. “Oh,” he says, in a very small voice. “It’s you.”

~*~

Ben’s been reunited with the other campers, and seems to have come out the other end of his experience stronger than ever before. But as he slowly finds his place back within the group, a bigger picture starts to emerge, piece by piece.

Rated T for: mental illness, mild language, panic attacks, PTSD, anxiety, insomnia, eating disorder (not in a traditional sense, but definitely not a healthy relationship with food)

A/N: Hey Camp Cretaceous fandom, y’all mind if I uhhhh write six-thousand words about Ben’s trauma?? Basically, Netflix kept recommending the show to me so I watched the first ep out of curiosity and then ended up binging the whole thing in like two days, and now here I am.

(Dear sweet, patient, regular readers of mine: I’m so sorry my main fic’s been delayed but I promise it’s getting updated next week, I just had to get some feelings out about Sad Dino Boy)

Hope you enjoy, please reblog and leave a comment if you do! - Aqua

Click here to read on A03 (with more complete tags)

~*~

the little things

~*~

Ben Pincus has returned from the dead, and he’s never been better.

The other campers are amazed. What he’s been through must have been horrible. He thought he was the only one left, that there was no one to help him and no hope of rescue because he was presumed dead. It would’ve been enough to drive anyone into despair, or off of the deep end.

But Ben shows no signs of this.

They didn’t find him holed up somewhere, near starvation and waiting to die, like one might’ve expected. They didn’t find him at all, really. He found them, and by coming to their rescue, no less. And when he did, he wasn’t a trembling mess, he wasn’t a half-mad ball of paranoia, and he wasn’t a hollow-eyed skeleton fueled solely by desperation.

He’s an all new and improved Ben, the best version of himself.

He hasn’t just survived, he’s flourished. He’s brave, he’s confident, he’s capable. He gives his opinions freely and without second-guessing himself, suggesting things the old Ben would’ve recoiled at. He fits seamlessly into the team like he never left. He faces problems head-on with determination and grit and not a trace of fear.

The turnaround is unbelievable. But even more important is that while he’s a new and improved Ben, he’s retained all the best parts of his old self.

Ben is easy smiles and meticulous organization of a leather waist bag and doting affection for a four-ton armored lizard. He’s sensitive and soft-spoken and accepts hugs from his friends gratefully. He still can’t quite pull off coolness, with a voice that sounds as gangly as his limbs look and an awkwardness he hasn’t grown out of.

And it’s perhaps because of this that no one thinks to look closer. This image is an easy thing to accept because it’s what they all want to believe, that Ben is okay- in fact, better than okay. But the truth is not always big and obvious upon first glance.

It’s the little things, as they soon find out.

~*~

That first evening after Ben’s return, after Mitch and Tiff and everything else, they don’t eat dinner.

They all ate their fill at the campsite and, after a month of scarcity, it was more than enough to sate their appetites. It’s Darius who thinks to ask Ben if he’s hungry, remembering that the boy hadn’t had the chance to eat with them. They have a good stockpile of food at the moment and he figures Ben must’ve been struggling.

But Ben shakes his head with an easy smile, and says, “Nah, I ate earlier.”

Darius leaves it at that, because there’s still so much catching up to do. They show Ben around their clubhouse, make plans for where to build a bunk for him (he insists he’d be just fine sleeping on the ground next to Bumpy, but they all veto that immediately). They talk well into the night about the day’s crazy events, filling each other in on their own sides of the story, and everything that’s happened since Ben got separated.

There are some more tears, some more hugs. But ultimately, the mood in the clubhouse is ecstatic. They never thought Ben had survived the fall so to have him back is better than a dream come true, it’s a miracle.

Darius thought he knew what it was to experience a miracle when they first saw that bonfire smoke on the horizon. But if he had to chose between the miracle of them finally leaving the island or the miracle of getting Ben back, it’s not even a competition.

Eventually the exhaustion catches up with everyone, and they turn in for the night. Bumpy parks herself underneath the clubhouse, her presence incredibly reassuring. Ben ends up sharing Kenji’s bunk because it’s bigger than Darius’s even when occupied by two, and the older teen had insisted in a very faux-casual way, to which Ben had rolled his eyes but nonetheless seemed touched by the gesture.

Darius takes the first night watch shift and gets to see all his friends sleeping peacefully. And even though Tiff sailed away with their only means for escaping, he feels a lot more hopeful than he has in a long time.

~*~

It’s canned peaches for breakfast.

A far cry from yesterday’s buffet. But no one’s complaining because the meticulous rationing of their food, courtesy of Darius, means they’re all starving by meal time and couldn’t care less what it tastes like. Darius is in the process of separating the food out into bowls, half a can for each of them, when he realizes Ben has yet to take a seat. He’s lingering at the edge of the room, watching.

“Hey,” Darius calls, “you coming or what?”

Ben shakes his head. “Thanks, but I already got my own breakfast.”

Before Darius can respond, Brooklynn shoots Ben a look. “What? Where?” she demands. “You holding out on us, jungle boy?”

Darius shoots her a look, but Ben just gives an easy smile and unzips the leather pouch that’s reclaimed its spot around his waist. He withdraws a small handful of bright red berries, no bigger than blueberries. It’s not even a fraction of the half-can of peaches the rest of them are settling for, and Darius sees his own unease reflected in the others’ eyes.

Brooklynn glances away. “Oh. Um, sorry. You don’t… you can have some of ours, you know?”

“I’m good.” Ben tosses a couple berries into his mouth. “You guys go ahead, I’m gonna go check on Bumpy.”

“O- oh, okay…” Sammy murmurs, watching Ben go with uncertain eyes. “If you’re sure…”

They’re silent for a moment.

Kenji inhales quietly through his teeth. “So… that’s weird, right?”

Yaz leans forward in her seat. “What do you think, Darius?” she asks lowly.

Darius bites his lip. Even though dinosaurs are his specific topic of interest, he’s gained a lot of second-hand knowledge about general biology and psychology. After all, he has to understand the processes behind behavior in order to identify patterns and deviations.

And right now, he has to admit that Ben is displaying a very concerning behavior.

“I’ll talk to him,” Darius decides.

There’s a collective sigh of relief around the table, and the others start eating. It takes Darius longer than usual to finish his serving.

~*~

“So, uh, bottom line is… you don’t need to feel bad about eating our food. You’re as much a part of this group as anyone else, and we’re happy to share.”

After a couple tense days, Darius is finally talking to Ben about the food situation. Or rather, talking at him. Because Ben’s not looking at Darius- his eyes are tracking the small spider that’s crawling along the railing next to them. Normally, Darius would take it as a sign of boredom and inattentiveness. But there’s an intensity in Ben’s eye that’s a little unsettling-

Quick as a flash, Ben shoots out an arm. He crushes the spider under his thumb and swipes it into his mouth. And then, untroubled as can be, he returns his focus to Darius as if nothing had happened.

Darius has overheard Kenji teasing Ben about eating bugs, and Ben has admitted as much in the stories of his time alone. Berries and grubs were what he lived on. Darius, for one, can’t imagine being hungry and desperate enough to snatch a bug off the ground and eat it.

But it’s even harder to imagine having access to real food, good food, and still choosing to eat bugs.

“Don’t worry so much,” Ben says lightly, patting Darius on the shoulder as he turns to go. “I can take care of myself.”

That does it. “You can’t keep living off berries and grubs!” Darius finally snaps.

Ben whirls around. “Says who?”

“Basic human biology!” Darius retorts.

Ben glares at him, but there’s something shaky behind it. “Darius, I told you it’s fine,” he says evenly, though he doesn’t fully meet Darius’s gaze. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. Please? If I’m hungry, I’ll eat.”

Darius hesitates. “You promise?”

Ben breaks into an easy smile. “I promise.”

Darius sighs. It’ll have to be good enough, for now.

“Okay.”

~*~

Darius knows he isn’t the only one still concerned by Ben’s lack of appetite.

Right from the start, Ben was the scrawniest one among them, and it’s only gotten worse. But surely he’ll have to eat at some point, right? Basic survival instincts will win out over whatever stubborn mindset is holding him back. Plus, it’s clear that he’s got enough energy to run and climb and stuff with no problem.

Maybe it’s not as serious as Darius thinks. Maybe Ben just needs time.

~*~

Ben doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

He just- he can’t take their food! Why don’t they get that?

And it’s not because he’s stubborn, it’s not- no matter what Darius thinks. There’s nothing wrong with letting others help you (as long as you don’t let it make you soft, of course). After all, he relies on Bumpy. He just… when he looks at the food, and imagines eating it, he just knows it’ll sit in his stomach. Like a rock, weighing him down.

Plus, plus, if he gets used to eating like that, it’ll just- it’ll be harder to cope once it runs out. He’s already gotten used to roughing it and it was hard enough the first time, he can’t let himself slip back into complacency. And- and really, how long do they think it’s going to last? They’ve searched all the previously inhabited areas of the island and there’s no more food for them to scavenge.

Do they think they’ll be rescued before it runs out? No one is coming to save them. They know it as much as Ben does- they wouldn’t be bothering with rafts if they didn’t. Do they think they’ll escape, then? Sure, because their current attempts have been going so well.

No, they just aren’t thinking long term. Ben is.

There’s nothing wrong with that.

~*~

It’s the sixth day in a row where Ben eats nothing but berries.

He wants to search around some more, see if there’s anything more substantial. That would require him to leave Bumpy, though. And he can’t leave Bumpy. But the hunger is excruciating. It gnaws at him every waking moment, keeps him up at night. He’s never felt such hunger in his life, not even close. He can’t keep going like this, can he?

But there’s nothing else.

Except… something’s crawling up his arm. Something small, and leggy. Ben turns his head, squinting to focus his eyes in the dark. It’s some kind of beetle, with a shiny shell that catches stray shafts of moonlight poking through the roof of his lean-to.

Ben stares at it for a moment. Then, before he can think, he snatches it up and pops it into his mouth. He barely registers any taste, mostly just the crunchy texture. And even though it wasn’t any bigger than a quarter, after he swallows, he feels… fuller. Even if it’s purely imagined, it’s a comfort.

Berries and grubs. It’ll have to be enough.

There’s nothing else.

~*~

Ben continues to decline their offers of food.

~*~

A few weeks after the reunion, Kenji is starting to get antsy.

As the self-designated ‘pro-fun police’ (a clever play on ‘no-fun police,’ if Kenji does say so himself), he’s made it his responsibility to make sure none of his friends just keel over and die from stress one day. That means it’s his job- no, his duty- to lighten the mood with copious amounts of joking, goofing off, and, of course, pranking.

Jumping out to scare his friends while they’re trapped on a dino-infested island might, on paper, sound like a bad idea. But it keeps everyone on their toes, and the relief of realizing they aren’t facing a dino attack, just Kenji pulling a prank, helps keep any real anger at bay. It’s typically an exasperated annoyance, which Kenji will gladly take. His main targets are Brooklynn and Darius, because he can’t fathom doing that to Sammy, and Yaz is- while perhaps in the most need of lightening up- super freaking scary.

But now that Ben’s back, Kenji knows what he has to do.

Before, back when they were just campers and not survivors, Ben was easily the most frightened of them. The kid was scared of dirt. And his over-the-top hysterics always managed to, somehow, put everyone else at ease. Because if Ben was scared of something, that didn’t really mean anything. Again; scared of dirt.

(Now, if Yaz is scared of something, that’s a different story).

Since Ben’s, uh… departure, they’ve been sorely lacking that energy in the group. Kenji would wager he’s not the only one who misses it. He used to have so much fun riling Ben up with just a couple words (none of the others are so easily baited). And whenever Ben would freak out and instantly cling to him, like some kind of scrawny spider monkey, it made Kenji feel… capable, in a way.

Like, if Ben was trusting Kenji to protect him, maybe he wasn’t so useless after all (which was becoming an all too frequent feeling as the others continued to adapt and grow, leaving Kenji struggling to keep up).

Problem is, Ben’s really hard to scare now.

It’s not always obvious, like when he’s bragging about taking down Toro or itching to blow things up. Sometimes it’s the little things. Whenever they’re out in a group, foraging or gathering supplies, and there’s a sound in the distance that makes them all freeze, Ben’s frozen in readiness, not fear. He looks more like Yaz, tense and waiting with his fists up and eyes narrowed.

Sometimes, when they aren’t occupied by any particular task or imminent threat, and have the chance to enjoy some downtime, Ben drifts off to the side and just… watches, all tense, silent, and anxious. He’ll watch the tree line, or Bumpy on the ground below, or even just the rest of them as they go about their business. Kenji is sure he’s not the only one who’s noticed but none of them bring it up.

It’s… unsettling, seeing Ben like this. Kenji figured he just needed a couple weeks to fall back into the rhythm of the group, to see that he didn’t have to be this loner Rambo type of guy anymore. But even though he talks with them easy enough, seems to enjoy their company, and has a good handle on teamwork, it’s like there’s a part of him that can’t fully shake that mentality.

At least, not without help.

~*~

Kenji’s plan is- in his humble opinion- pretty dang brilliant.

He waits for a time when it’s just him and Ben in the main level of the clubhouse (Yaz is running laps around their perimeter, Darius is in his bunk writing in his nerd book, Brooklynn and Sammy are upstairs going over inventory) and then announces he’s going for a shower. His daily showers are common knowledge at this point, so Ben just nods in acknowledgement and goes back to leaning against the railing, watching Bumpy graze down below in that tense-silent-anxious way of his.

Kenji sets up the shower and lets it run (he’ll go down to the river later and get more water to make up for the waste, because even though he tries to avoid manual labor whenever possible, it’s totally worth it in this case). And then, being more careful and silent than he’s ever been (except maybe in cases where he’s being hunted by dinos), he slowly creeps up behind Ben before leaping forward with a shriek, grabbing him by the shoulders.

Ben doesn’t just jump and scream. He jumps, screams, then spins around and swings a fist into Kenji’s jaw in one smooth motion.

Kenji’s laughing even as he staggers back, his jaw stinging (because at the end of the day, even though Ben’s kind of a badass now, he’s still Ben and his arms are pretty much chicken wings so there’s no real harm done, just a bruise at most). Plus that’s a valid reaction, considering everything, and he can’t say he didn’t deserve it.

“Oh man, I totally got you!” Kenji says anyways, to rub it in. “You should see your… face...”

And Kenji trails off because now he’s seeing Ben’s face.

What Kenji expected is this:

Once Ben realized it was just him pulling a prank, he would get mad. In that totally non-threatening dorky Ben way, where he scrunches his nose and puffs out his cheeks, his little fists clenched at his side like an irate toddler. Maybe he’d stomp off but it’d be worth it because being mad is better than being tense-silent-anxious and it’d give him the chance to be annoyed with Kenji. And maybe Ben being annoyed with Kenji would help everything feel a little more normal, a little more like before.

What Kenji gets is this:

Once Ben realizes it was just him pulling a prank, he doesn’t get mad. He starts shaking. Violently, uncontrollably. Like he’s suddenly come down with hypothermia despite being in a tropical jungle, staring at Kenji all the while and not saying a word. His chest rises and falls rapidly in little panicky breaths and the kind of fear in his eyes isn’t the kind that’s funny. It’s glassy-eyed with shrunken pupils that dart around Kenji’s face, frightened and searching, as if he isn’t fully seeing it.

Kenji’s mouth is dry. “Ben…?” he croaks out.

Ben swallows. “Oh,” he says, in a very small voice. “It’s you.”

Kenji hasn’t heard Ben’s voice sound that small since before, and it doesn’t feel like a victory.

By now, of course, the others have noticed the commotion and it doesn’t take more than a second for them to piece together what happened. Yaz rounds on Kenji with a furious snarl and whisper-screams a lecture about how stupid and irresponsible he is. Darius is immediately trying to mediate the situation while Sammy frantically asks Ben if he’s okay, to which he doesn’t respond. Brooklynn steps in, citing an unboxing video about dealing with shock, and when she goes to put a hand on Ben’s shoulder, he lets her.

And now Kenji realizes where he miscalculated. Ben never showed discomfort with physical contact before because he’d never been surprised by it before (because Ben has gotten scary good at being alert, always keeping an eye and an ear out on his surroundings even in the middle of a conversation). And when it came to his friends, it wasn’t unexpected for Sammy to rush in with a hug or Darius to pat his shoulder or Brooklynn to playfully knock elbows.

But Kenji snuck up on him, so Ben’s first thought wasn’t that it was a friend. It was that he was going to have to run for his life, like he has countless times since being stranded on this island.

Kenji apologizes over and over again as Darius gently leads him away by the elbow and Brooklynn talks to Ben in low tones while Sammy squeezes his hand and Yaz takes up a lookout position because they can’t afford for all of them to be distracted even though she occasionally cuts a glare at Kenji out of the corner of her eye so it’s really debatable how vigilant she’s actually being.

Throughout it all, Ben doesn’t get mad, but he doesn’t stop shaking.

~*~

Darius explains it, later.

“The sudden fear reaction signaled a bunch of adrenaline to be released into his bloodstream, to give him the energy needed for running. And then, when he didn’t, there was nowhere for that energy to go. It’s like, even though his mind knew there wasn’t any danger, his body wasn’t convinced.” Then, a sympathetic look. “You didn’t know, man.”

Kenji only nods. But knowing doesn’t make it better because even though Ben’s stopped shaking he doesn’t turn his back on Kenji anymore and somehow that’s a million times worse than if he’d gotten mad.

~*~

There are claws wrapped around Ben’s shoulders and shrieks in his ears.

Wind whips his face and his stomach lurches as he’s carried through the air, weightless, at the mercy of the Pteranodon. He’s never felt so small and utterly helpless before, not once in his life. Even his screams aren’t big enough to carry, snatched away by the wind and deafened by the roars of the terror-birds fighting over the right to tear him limb from limb.

And then he’s falling and has other things to worry about.

~*~

Ben stops sharing Kenji’s bunk.

~*~

In a rare moment of downtime, Yasmina is curled up with Darius’s field guide, adding a few more illustrations, when she feels Ben staring at her.

It’s not the first time she’s felt him staring at her. It is the first time, however, that she decides to stare back.

She means it to be playful, at first. She meets his eyes, one brow quirked as if to say, ‘What, is there something on my face?’ But instead of glancing away in sheepish embarrassment or jolting out of a daze, Ben just stares back. There’s no emotion in his expression at all except intense focus.

The faint smile drops from Yasmina’s face as she stares back in surprise. Then, with ever-growing confusion and a fair amount of alarm, she realizes that Ben’s shoulders are rising, tense and hunched like he’s trying to make himself look bigger.

Like an animal.

Yasmina knows what it is to stare down a wild animal. She’s felt predatory eyes on her before and either bolted or turned to face the challenge. And that’s what it is, for some of the dinos- a challenge. Sometimes they’re testing your mettle, and standing your ground is enough to make them back off.

Ben must’ve learned that, too. And for whatever reason, he’s slipping into that behavior now.

It’s a ridiculous thought. This is Ben, her friend. Her very scrawny friend who can’t weigh more than ninety pounds soaking wet, and prefers a diet of berries and grubs. And yet, here he is, staring her down like she’s a particularly bold pack of Compies that’s decided to threaten him.

Yasmina gives a slow, deliberate blink. “Ben?” she calls. “What’s up?”

Just like that, the spell is broken. Ben gives a violent start, blinking and shaking his head. Yasmina sees confusion flash across his face, and then realization. And now the embarrassment comes, but it’s darkened by something like horror.

Without a word, Ben turns and darts away, scrambling down the ladder to the alcove underneath the house where Bumpy’s napping.

Yasmina lets him go, too baffled and unsettled to form words.

~*~

Eventually, Yasmina tells Darius about it.

His expression is troubled as she runs through the incident. But in the end, there’s nothing more he can tell her than what she’s already worked out on her own. It’s just another side effect of the mindset Ben has adopted throughout his isolation. Those habits were what he relied on to survive, and it’ll take time for him to realize he doesn’t have to constantly be on edge now that he’s got a team to look out for him.

Though privately, Yasmina wonders if maybe the rest of them should take a page out of Ben’s book. Seems like he’s got a better handle on survival than they do.

(And then she thinks how Sammy would react, if Yasmina started acting like a wary animal around her, and she realizes Ben’s methods come with a price.)

~*~

After Ben runs the Compies off for the first time, staring becomes a defense tactic.

It’s not always the Compies, who are slowly but surely learning not to mess with him. Sometimes it’s the Parasaurolophus in the river, or the lone Pteranodon perched in a tree, or the group of Edmontosauruses grazing on the hilltop. As soon as he feels their eyes on him, he knows his best chance is to stare back, to show that he’s willing to put up a fight, that chasing him wouldn’t be worth it.

Obviously, there are some dinosaurs that doesn’t work on. But if Ben can drastically cut down the amount of time spent running for his life by standing his ground, then he’ll take it.

All he has to do is not back down.

~*~

Ben avoids Yasmina for the next few days.

~*~

Brooklynn wakes up in the middle of the night with an unshakeable feeling that something is wrong.

Her bad feeling is confirmed when she gets a look at the moon. Based on its position in the sky, she should’ve been woken up by Ben to take her night watch shift at least an hour ago. This practice, established by Darius months ago who insisted they should always have at least one person awake, has already become routine within the group. Brooklynn couldn’t sleep fully through the night if she tried.

Ben’s only just recently become a part of the routine. Immediately after his return, Darius thought it best just to let Ben settle in and get as much rest as he could, now that he had the security to do so, and everyone agreed. Ben had insisted he didn’t mind, but Darius stood firm, so it’s only been within the last few days that Ben took part.

But this is the first time he hasn’t woken Brooklynn up and her heart is in her throat as she rushes to the lookout point-

Only to find Ben sitting right where he’s supposed to be, looking out over their compound as a small candle burns next to him.

As soon as Brooklynn’s relief passes, it’s replaced with anger. “What are you doing?” she whispers furiously.

Ben, not at all surprised by her presence, gives her a sidelong look. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You were supposed to wake me up, so I could do night watch.” Brooklynn struggles to keep her voice low, so as not to alert the others. “What gives?”

Ben shrugs. “I knew I wasn’t gonna sleep tonight, so I figured I’d just take the whole watch myself.”

“That’s not how this works,” Brooklynn hisses, crossing her arms. “Even if you can’t fall asleep- and I’ve totally been there- you have to lay down and close your eyes and rest. You need to rest.”

Ben breaks into an easy smile, but Brooklynn can see the annoyed creases at his eyes. “Hey, it’s fine. I can-”

“Take care of yourself, I know,” Brooklynn interrupts, hating how frustrated she sounds but unable to help it. “But you don’t have to. We’re a team. We can take care of you too, alright?”

Ben stares at her for a moment. “I know that,” he says, sounding uncertain.

Brooklynn softens. When she reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, he lets her. “Then… why?”

“I don’t know,” Ben admits. The muscles beneath Brooklynn’s hand are so tense, it feels like they’re going to snap. “I don’t know.”

They finish the night watch together.

~*~

Brooklynn almost hates to bring it up to Darius.

Dude’s stressing almost nonstop about everything, all the time. And it really isn’t fair for him to be responsible for the rest of them, including Ben. But Darius is the only one who seems to have the… what’s it called, emotional intelligence, she supposes, to weigh in on the situation.

(Sammy is a close second, but her brand of caring is a little more touchy-feely, and this doesn’t seem like the right time for that.)

Darius is immediately worried, pointing out that Ben might accidentally fall asleep on watch if he keeps this up (something Brooklynn hadn’t even thought about). He promises to talk to Ben about it, and that’s that.

Brooklynn is only slightly relieved because she knows if Darius had a real fix for the problem, he would’ve said so. And if Darius doesn’t have a fix for it, maybe there isn’t one.

~*~

Those first several nights, Ben doesn’t sleep at all.

And it’s not for lack of trying. But how can he sleep, when it’s pitch black and the jungle is full of unfamiliar sounds and he’s got no one but a baby Ankylosaurus by his side? He soon finds it’s even worse without Bumpy, though, because at least he trusted that Bumpy would wake up if there was any danger, as her senses are more powerful than his.

On his own, there’s no one to wake him up. So he has to stay up, and settle for catching short scattered naps throughout the day (if he can find a tree to hide up in).

It’s hard, but he’d rather be tired than dead.

~*~

Ben is taken off night watch, but still ends up awake more often than not.

~*~

Pyromaniac is a word no one ever expected to become synonymous with Ben, and yet here they are.

It’s one of the first things he always suggests as an answer to a problem; blow something up. Darius has a million reasons for them not to do that; they could get hurt, they could start a wildfire and burn the jungle down, they could attract unwanted attention from predators.

But that doesn’t stop Ben from cataloguing everything on the island that can be used as an explosive, memorizing their locations or creating hidden stashes. It doesn’t stop him from using the candles that came with the scavenged emergency kits. He’ll light them for no reason, just to watch the small flame flicker back and forth.

(Someday, months later, they’ll encounter a horrific hybrid dinosaur that is drawn to flames, and they’ll all think about how unsettling it is that Ben shares this trait, but none of them will say it.)

~*~

It’s been one week since Bumpy left, and Ben is starting a fire.

Just a small one. It rained all day and he’s soaked to the bone, which normally wouldn’t be a huge problem considering the jungle climate. But now that it’s nighttime, there’s a chill in the air and he can’t afford to get sick. It’s risky, because at night he knows the light could draw attention to him, but his teeth are starting to chatter so there’s no helping it.

When a Stegosaurus stumbles upon him, baying low and angry at finding another creature in its territory, it’s the fire that makes it balk. Rumbling displeasure, it retreats back into the dark jungle. Ben quickly adds torches to his arsenal, using the rest of his shirt as tinder.

Fire is safety.

~*~

Ben lights his candles in silence.

~*~

“You can’t just run off like that,” Kenji says, deadly serious.

Ben scoffs. “I think you’re forgetting who defeated Toro,” he says with an easy smile.

“You’re not invincible, Ben!” Kenji snaps. The anger churning inside him is deceptively hollow, like it’s masking something else. “And I can’t lose you again.”

Ben isn’t smiling anymore. “You won’t,” he mutters, pushing past Kenji. “I can take care of myself, now. I don’t need you to play the hero and protect me.”

Kenji wants to protest that’s not what this is about, and that’s never been what this is about, but Ben is already gone.

~*~

Ben still lives off berries and grubs.

~*~

“… and so I was thinking, berries have seeds in them, right? So if we plant some, we’ll have our own berry bushes at the clubhouse. It’ll cut down our foraging time in the mornings for sure, and-”

“Uh, who are you talking to, Ben?”

Ben blinks at Yasmina’s voice, the girl having only just entered the room.

“Um, Bumpy?” he says, as if this should be obvious.

Yasmina glances out at the compound, where Bumpy is fast asleep and well out of earshot.

“… right.”

~*~

Ben can’t sleep, even when he’s actually trying.

~*~

“Alright,” Darius says, “so we need to get the T-Rex out of Main Street so we can do another sweep for supplies. Any ideas?”

Ben’s hand goes up.

“For the hundredth time, Ben, we aren’t going to feed the T-Rex to the Mosasaurus.”

Ben’s hand goes down.

~*~

Ben feels more at home with Bumpy than the other campers.

~*~

“You know we didn’t mean to leave you, right? We would’ve come back for you if we’d known…”

~*~

Ben never talks about getting off the island.

~*~

“You have to tell us where you’re going, Ben, you can’t just disappear-”

~*~

Ben keeps slipping away.

~*~

“Blowing stuff up isn’t the answer to everything!”

~*~

Ben keeps saying he’s okay.

~*~

“We’re a team, we have to work together-”

~*~

Ben keeps smiling.

~*~

“Don’t you trust us to protect you?”

~*~

Ben doesn’t know.

~*~

Sammy finds Ben sitting on the roof of the clubhouse one day.

Her footsteps are loud and obvious as she approaches him. No chance of sneaking up. She knows he’s noticed her, from the subtle shift in his body. He doesn’t acknowledge her, though, continuing to stare off over the jungle and into the horizon, his skinny legs slotted through the railing and dangling over the edge.

The sun’s about to set, a few stars already twinkling in the purple edges of the sky. Sammy can remember another night, months ago, where Ben wasn’t here but everyone else was and they spotted bonfire smoke in the distance. She remembers the way her heart raced, the overwhelming joy and relief flooding through her. And yet, there had been undeniable heartache, because the realization that they’d made it out only meant it was more unfair that Ben hadn’t.

Sammy breaks the silence after a few moments.

“Are you okay?”

Ben doesn’t look at her, but she can see the easy smile that slants across his face, dying sunlight reflected in his eyes.

“Yeah.”

Sammy sees the lie for what it is. None of them are okay. No one who’s been through what they have would be. But there’s a certain danger that comes with not being willing to admit it, and an even greater danger that comes with not being able to see it.

“Y’know, it’d be fine if you weren’t.”

Ben doesn’t answer.

Sammy sits with him until the sky turns dark.

~*~

It’s the way he struggles to eat anything he hasn’t obtained by himself.

It’s the way he sometimes goes off on his own without telling anyone.

It’s the way he talks to himself when he thinks no one else is around.

It’s the way he takes any concern for his safety as a personal attack.

It’s the way he leaps at the chance to blow something up.

It’s the way he can stare silently for hours.

It’s the way he smiles a little too easily.

~*~

It’s not jumping at every unexpected movement, or screaming awake from night terrors, or flinching away from the slightest touch. It’s not loud meltdowns or hysterical sobbing or uncontrollable fits of rage.

(Even though those will come, someday, when the island is just a memory.)

It’s the little things, that- once you notice them- keep piling up.

And suddenly, they don’t seem so little anymore.

~*~

#jurassic world camp cretaceous #camp cretaceous #jwcc #jwcc fanfic #my writing

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surrerafics · 3 years

Text

The narrative….

Andy and Robert constantly argue about unresolved issues within their marriage because they don’t practice communication. Their pride and egos get in the way of that. They’re both stubborn, hardworking and strong-minded first responders. They often replace communication for sex for the tension rising in their marriage which has made matters worse. Andy has a lot of decisions to make concerning her marriage and a new unexpected surprise that has popped up to make matters even more complicated than they already were. Now that Andy is furious with her husband about causing Maya to lose her job she’s not so sure she really knows her husband at all. Decisions! Decisions!

ROBERT AND ANDY AT HOME IN BED -DAY

Andy- okayyy it’s not Carinas French toast but it’s the only thing I know how to make for breakfast.

Robert- It looks amazingggg. (Kissing Andy) then pulls her in for more.

Andy- Maya asked me to step in for her for the week.

Robert- step in?

Andy- As acting captain.

Robert- Doesn’t the department usually send a sub for bereavement leave?

Andy- well, due to COVID and stuff they said that one of the lieutenants could do it so she asked me!

(Robert becomes silent) and you’ve gone all quiet.

Robert- No, no, no(kisses Andy) it’s good. I’m happy for you!

Andy- yeah?!

Robert- Yes! You were made for this!

Andy- plus, it couldn’t hurt to be sleeping with the boss right?!

Robert-No special treatment just like when I was your captain.

Andy- well maybe a little special treatment! (Puts hand under the covers playing with his….em hem!)

(Andy’s POV)

Station 19- Night

Locker Room

Robert comes in while Andy is changing

Robert- Andy I have more experience than you. Decades more. It’s just.. Andy interrupts Robert.

Andy- Are you trying to help yourself here?

Robert- Can I finish? I have years under my belt. Okay. And I’m not using them on the job so I guess I thought I could use them to help you. Help you didn’t ask for I get it. *sighing* come on. I just need you to understand where I’m coming from.

Andy- look, I get that you hate being a probie. I hate you being a probie.

Robert- hey, hey. We found a common ground. Let’s just end this another way.

Andy- No, Robert we need to talk about this.

Robert: You’re only Captain for another shift and then Bishop comes back. Then this won’t be a problem anymore.

Andy: yeah, except I’ll still be your lieutenant and hopefully soon, one day after that a captain for real.

Robert: Not hopefully. you will.

Andy: Well, then this is a problem we need to solve.

Robert: well, is it a problem we need to solve tonight?

Andy: I guess not.

Robert gets up to finish taking out the trash and leaves the locker room as Andy looks complexed.

(Andy and Roberts POV)

The SULLIVAN’s Home - Bedroom- NIGHT

Later that night after work.

Andy tries to make an attempt to have the same conversation about him undermining her authority at work in the locker room.

Andy: Baby, *sighing* why do you have an issue with titles and your wife ranking higher than you?

Robert: babe, I thought we weren’t gonna try and solve this problem tonight?

Andy: I know but…. (Robert interrupts Andy by grabbing her and begins kissing her passionately and deep)

He begins to undress her while still kissing her passionately and seductively. Andy falls weak to her husbands advances and gives in. They move over to their bed and they begin to become intimate throughout the night.

A Few Weeks LATER….

Station 19- Day

Andy is in the beanery scoffing down sugary cereal with her hands when suddenly she was hit with a sudden feeling of nausea and started for the ladies room, while met with Travis on his way to the beanery.

Travis to Andy as they run into each other asks Andy if she’s okay.

Travis- oops! Sorry Herrera. Hey, you feeling okay?

Andy- it’s okay. Uumm, yeah! Just got to run to the ladies locker room for something.

Travis looks confused.

Ben and Robert are in the turnout room having a conversation while organizing gear and equipment.

Robert- You know being demoted was no ones fault but my own, but this is hard being a probie. I feel as though all my hard working years as a firefighter has gone to waste. I feel useless now.

Ben- Ey, look man I know it isn’t easy and hearing that you can work your way up seems like dead hope to you, but you’re not useless and despite what you might be feeling you are a great asset to,19. I mean you did help run it before.

Robert- You know I find myself reminiscing about my days back in Montana and how I miss the weather and my days there as Captain. You know I moved there after my wife Claire died.

Ben- Sounds like you’re missing Montana a lot. You thinking of going back there? Maybe a little getaway for you and the Mrs?

Robert- Nah, man haven’t given it much thought,to return there anytime soon but it has crossed my mind a time or two.

The fire alarm sounds. People stuck inside a burning house. Robert, Ben and the team rush to the location. Upon arriving Captain Bishop orders the team to get in for search and rescue inside the burning house. Everyone has been safely rescued except a neighbor realizes and informs Captain Bishop that a little boy is missing and that he could still be stuck inside. The team finds him with 3rd degree burns inside of a closet. Upon bringing him out the commander in chief orders Captain Bishop to wait for an aid truck to come and transport the little boy to Greys-Sloan Hospital, but Bishop goes against the Chiefs orders and orders her team to put him on the fire truck to the hospital instead. Now, Bishops job could be in jeopardy.

Andy and Sullivan were called into the chief commissioner’s office. After speaking with them he asked Sullivan to stay as Herrera walked out. Herrera stood by the door to listen in on the conversation.

Chief- Sullivan. Hold on a minute.(Herrera walks out)Have a seat. You appointed Bishop? What’s your take?

Sullivan- She’s a good captain sir. I basically raised her up myself.

Chief- But she’s gotten cocky. I’ve been hearing things. Taking her team to protests. Defying cops on the scene.

Sullivan-Well, those things are separate conversations…

Chief- But there both indicative of Bishop acting outside the balance of the Seattle Fire department. Ummm…. Your record…

Robert- yea Sir, I know I made mistakes. But I’m clean , sober, strong

Chief- we can’t afford anymore bad press for our first responders

Robert- No, we can’t. This team stood behind me when my job was on the line. They have my back and I have theirs. I can get this house in order sir. You do not want these fire fighters talking to the press saying that FD values protocol over their kids lives. You need someone who can reunite them and that someone is me. Plus with me you get a Battalion chief for the price of a Captain.

Andy hears what Sullivan says outside the door and walks away enraged.

The SULLIVAN’s home- Day

Maya’s Wedding Day

Andy walks into hers and Roberts bedroom and throws the covers on their bed after sleeping on the couch.

Robert- You really didn’t have to sleep on the couch you know.

Andy-The only reason I slept here and not at Maya’s is because it’s her wedding day and I don’t want her to know what you did. Not today.

Robert- What I did was save your job Andy!

Andy- This is not a discussion! This is not a discussion! Because today I am a maiden of honor and if we have a discussion I will say some things that are very very not maiden like or honorable!

Robert- This is absurd.

Andy- You don’t get to tell me what’s absurd. (Walks away …. Be there by 5!) slams door!

Two weeks later….

Andy is talking to Dean in the locker room area.

Dean- what’s up , kiddo? You okay? You look …

Andy- I know. I don’t look my best these days. I don’t feel like myself. I’m questioning everything including my marriage and if marrying Robert was such a great idea. I mean sure I married the man I love but I also married the man I love for the sake of my Dad having the opportunity to walk his only daughter down the aisle and give her away before his cancer took control which, in turn he didn’t die of but died saving his family. But after what ROBERT did… I’m, I’m just not… I don’t know what I’m trying to say.

(Robert overhears their conversation outside of the lockers.)

Dean-I’m probably not the best person to talk about this too. I’m not an expert or anything but it appears you two have issues communicating. My only advice is maybe seek therapy and talk it out. Maybe alone , then with Sullivan. My advice? Contact Dr. Diane Lewis and schedule a session with her. We all know she’s really good. I wish you both the best.

Andy- Maybe you’re right. I’ll sleep on it.

After Dean leaves and Robert slipped away so that Dean and Andy wouldn’t know what he had just heard between them. Robert looks really down and depressed because he has no one and the entire team, including his wife aren’t really talking to him.

A SUDDEN REVELATION

Suddenly Andy holds her stomach and runs off to the ladies locker room and pukes in the toilet. Afterwards, she brushes her teeth and swishes with mouthwash to get the nasty taste out of her mouth over the sink. Andy looks at herself and whispers under her breath, “Oh, no! I can’t be! Andy suddenly realized with everything that had been going on in her life from her family secrets, the loss of her dad and best friend to the underlying unresolved issues in her marriage that a few times she forgot to take her birth control pills. There have been plenty of times Andy and Robert were intimate without using any form of protection. Andy looks at her phone to check her app that keeps track of her monthly cycles and realized she was already a few weeks late! Andy hurries out to the nearest pharmacy to purchase a pregnancy test and heads back to the station.

POSITIVE RESULTS!

After taking two separate tests Andy discovers her worst fear of being pregnant! She is anything but thrilled about it as she never really saw herself being a mother or a wife of that matter. Also, with her marriage on the rocks she’s just not sure what her next steps are.

Takes phone out to schedule an appointment with Dr. Diane Lewis.

ANDY’S THERAPY SESSION WITH DR. DIANE LEWIS.

Dr Diane’s Lewis’s office- DAY

Dr. Diane- Welcome Andy.

Andy- HI. thank you for clearing your schedule to see me today.

Dr. Diane- Well, you seemed a bit distraught and troubled when I listened back to your voicemail. You seemed desperate. So, what seems to be your problem?

Andy- (blurts out) I’m not so sure marrying my husband was such a great idea!

Dr. Diane.- Why do you say that? It’s okay. You can say it. It’s strictly confidential.

Andy- I won’t go into details. Ever since Robert was demoted he hasn’t been himself. He thinks I’m ashamed of him because he was demoted to a probie. We don’t communicate. We substitute conversation for good sex to ease the tension of our unresolved issues. He did something to cause someone close to me lose her position just so he can climb back up to battalion chief as if that title defines him.. it’s … DR DIANE INTERRUPTS ANDY….

Dr. Diane- for someone who didn’t want to say too much you just said a mouthful.

Andy- maybe you were right. Maybe I’m with my husband cause he’s like a father figure or someone who could fill my fathers shoes as Battalion chief.

Dr. Diane- Do you love him? Are you in love with your husband?

Andy- I do love my husband and in love but as of late I’m questioning everything. All we do is work, argue and have good sex. That’s a recipe for a disastrous marriage. And, and I’m afraid I won’t be a good mom or end up just like my mother who, had postpartum depression, never wanted to be a mother or married. She only wanted to fight fires. (Andy touches her stomach)

Dr Diane- you’re afraid you won’t be a good mom? Are you expecting?

Andy- (hesitantly) yes. I just found out two days ago.

Dr. Diane- And let me guess. You’re not thrilled about it? Have you told your husband?

Andy- Not exactly. I haven’t told him yet. I realized when I found out my mother was alive and learning why she abandoned me and my father I realized I’m just like her. I was once proposed to by jack before meeting Robert and I remember distinctly telling him I didn’t want to be married or have a family. That I didn’t want something separate because the firehouse was my family and fighting fires and making captain was all that mattered to me. It’s like I’m mirroring my mothers life reincarnated. I never wanted any of this. Yet I’m afraid for him because I’m all my husband has.

Dr DIANE- Let me ask you this. Do you want to save your marriage or get out? Is it worth fighting for? How badly do you want this marriage?

Andy- I love my husband. There isn’t a doubt. I only regret how rushed our marriage was as we really didn’t get to do the dating phase to learn how to deal with each other’s past. I honestly wish we could have a do-over but right now I don’t have the energy to even speak with him. I’m pretty stubborn.

Dr. Diane- seems you’re carrying the burdens of your mother and the burdens of your husband. You’re worried about abandoning your baby and becoming like your mother. And you’re afraid of what possibly leaving your marriage behind due to what it may do to him. Andy, that is a quite a heavy load for one person to carry. I think it’s time you had another meeting with your mom and express these concerns to her so that you may get closure and more clarity on what it is you need to do concerning your life’s decisions.

Later as Andy leaves Dr. Diane’s office she heads back to the Station as she recognizes a familiar face…. Her Mother’s Elena. Andy looks taken a back.

Elena- Hello Mi hija .

Andy- What, what are you doing here? It’s really weird as I was thinking of calling you anyway.

Elena- you were? I, I just wanted to see how you were.

Andy- actually, not good. We need to talk. Let’s take a walk.

Scene intercuts to Robert packing a bag and highlights on his phone that he’s just purchased a ticket to Montana.

Andy and her mom Elena are sitting on a park bench discussing some very pressing matters that’s concerning Andy and the decisions she needs to make about her marriage and the growing little being inside of her.

Elena- what’s wrong Andrea?

Andy- I’m pregnant. Just found out a couple of days ago, my marriage is in shambles and my husband doesn’t know I’m pregnant yet.

Elena- you should be estactic!

Andy- yeah but I’m not.

Elena-why, why mija?

Andy- Because I’m just like you!! I never wanted to be married or become a mother! I guess the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree after all!

Elena- Then why did you marry him, Andy? Do you even love him?

Andy- Robert asked me to be his wife because he loves me and is in love with me, but we knew my Dad didn’t have long before his cancer would take its course on him so Robert and I got married really fast so that he could walk me down the aisle as one last memory of me and my Dad giving me away to Robert. And….yes I love him but I’m afraid I’m mirroring your life with my dad, who would suffer from mental illness, postpartum depression and won’t be able to bond with our child and leave them. What if I’m like you in that aspect? What if I inherited those same traits? but lately all we do is argue and have sex. We don’t communicate. We bump heads a lot. And his recent actions have me questioning if we should even remain married.

Elena- Andrea, considering the mistakes I’ve made what I’m about to say may not carry much weight to you but, from what your aunt Theresa has said about your husband he’s a really loving, caring and kind man and that he takes good care of you. If this is true, don’t make a permanent decision on temporary emotions or doubts. I know I don’t deserve to be in your life and I have no one to blame but myself, but you don’t have to be like me. You are not me. You have a loving heart and you need your husband. You need each other. And that baby you two made out of love need their parents just as much. I know I never said I was sorry but I am sorry nena for my selfish acts and leaving my child. You may not believe me but there were times of regret. Think this through. Talk to your husband. You don’t want to realize you made the wrong decisions and carry around regrets. It will haunt you Nena. It’s haunted me.

THE NARRATIVE

Andy thinks long and hard about what her mother shared with her and decides after their talk to pick up her phone and call her husband but he doesn’t answer and it goes straight to voicemail. Andy leaves a voicemail, then texts him so that he could get back to her sooner rather than later. Andy hasn’t been staying at home with Robert due to the marital issues they’ve been dealing with and has been couch hopping at Maya’s and at Deans. Meanwhile, Sullivan is on a plane to Montana to get away and clear his head. He feels alone at Station 19 and after hearing his wife’s thoughts and concerns about if marrying him was a mistake it broke his heart as he is afraid of losing the only good thing he has in his life and that’s his wife Andy. He couldn’t bare the thought of hearing his wife say to him that she wants a divorce. So, he packed up a bag and headed to Montana. Robert has no one in his life, no other family members that he’s close to or aware of. His only family is his wife. It’s two days later and Robert is on a plane and Any realizes her husband hasn’t returned any of her calls or messages and hurries on to the Station to see if he was there or to ask if anyone else has seen him. This was hers and Roberts day off so she couldn’t imagine why he wasn’t answering his phone. Andy runs into Vic and Travis and asks if they had seen her husband or if he had been by the station. They haven’t seen or heard from him. Vic asks Andy if everything is okay because she looked a bit flushed and frantic. Well, it’s been over 12 hours since I last contacted him and he hasn’t replied to any of my messages. Ben walks into the lobby where Andy, Vic and Travis are and asks what’s going on? Vic tells him how Andy is looking for Robert because he isn’t answering any of her messages and it’s been well over twelve hours since she contacted him with no avail. Andy asks Ben if he’s seen or heard from him and if he thought he’d have any idea where he would be or any strange behaviors with him. Ben tells Andy they had a brief conversation a few days ago and he seemed down in the dumps. Says he’s found himself reminiscing of his old life back in Montana back when he was Captain there. I asked him if he thought of taking the Mrs. well, you there for a little getaway and he said he hadn’t given that part much thought. Andy listens and softly says to the team that she had to go home and check into something and to please let her know anything if they hear anything from Robert.

ANDY DRIVES UP TO THEIR HOME.

Andy arrives at their home and quickly runs upstairs to their bedroom seeking Robert but he isn’t there and in their bedroom she finds his drawers open and begin looking though his old things to see if she can find any clues to where he could be. She soon finds old photos of him as a captain in MONTANA and spotted this photo of and a beautiful stow away cabin he would often resort to during get always or vacations Andy decided it was time for her to take a road trip to Montana to find her husband. In the back of her mind she’s thinking he may relapse because of everything that has transpired in their marriage and at work. Andy calls the station to tell them she’s gonna have to take off for a few more days to take care of a pressing matter and to please cover for her two two shifts. Andy packs a bag, hops in her car and heads for Montana. Before driving off, Andy takes the baby sonograms and places them in her cars glove compartment, takes a deep breath and starts for the road. The drive from Seattle to Montana is about a 10-12 hour drive. Andrea has been driving now for the past 5 hours straight. She’s tired and sleepy so she stops at a nice hotel for a nights stay and will pick up tomorrow and finish her trip to Montana. She grabs the sonogram from her gloves company, stares at it and takes it inside with her as she checks in to a room. She calls Robert one last time still with no avail of reaching him. She sent him another text and no reply still. So Andy settles in, takes a shower and climbs into bed with her baby sonogram on the night stand propped up next to her, while placing her hands on her now growing belly. Still in shock and hasn’t processed the reality that’s she’s pregnant. Andy is watching the tv but soon finds the tv is watching her as she soon dozed off.

THE NARRATIVE….

(Andy’s POV)

Andy is back on the road the next day headed for Montana and as she’s driving her mind wonders back to when she found out she was pregnant a few days ago and how Carina did a sonogram on her to see how the baby is and how far along she was. The baby’s heartbeat is fast and healthy. Andy begin to become emotional of the thought that a little being was growing inside of her. She had fears and all kinds of concerns because this pregnancy wasn’t planned and considering she’s never really wanted to become a mother just like her mom. Carina tells Andy she is about 6 in a half weeks along which shocked Andy but quickly explained her increasing appetite the past several weeks. Carina congrats her and Sullivan on their new addition and tells Andy to come back in six weeks for another check up on her and the baby. Andy comes back into her thoughts and stares at the sonogram in her right hand while the other hand is on the steering wheel. Andy has been driving a few hours now and should reach the address of the cabin she suspects her husband is staying at in about another hour and stops for gas and a nearby gas station and grabs a sandwich inside the store and a drink to carry her over till she arrives at the cabin. To keep from falling asleep Andy turns the radio up to keep her alert. Meanwhile, intercut to Robert settling in and laying up in his bed staring at pictures of him and Andy in happier times. He looks so lonely and broken and feels he no longer has anyone. Not even his wife whom he is so in love with. He puts the pictures down and breaks his thoughts of his wife to take a shower. He takes a nice long hot shower to release some stress and just stands under the shower allowing the water to fall off his head down his back. Meanwhile, Andy finally arrives at the cabin and quickly glances at the picture of the cabin she found in her husbands things back home in Seattle. Andy pauses for a moment before getting out of her car to approach the door, meanwhile, Robert is stepping out of the shower, drying off and wrapping his towel around his waist. Robert walks into the bedroom and suddenly hears a knock on the door. He grabs a shirt to throw on and sweats. He has no clue who it could be because no one would know him there except the owner who knew Sullivan back when he worked as captain back in the day in Montana. Robert creeps to the door to see who it is but it’s too dark too tell, so he cautiously opens the door to find a petite, fair-skinned and soft-spoken little lady standing before him, a little lady he calls his wife. It’s Andrea Herrera Sullivan. Robert has the the biggest , most shocking expression on his face to find his wife standing before him. Andy says hi to her husband and asks can she come in and he steps aside to let her in. Robert asks Andy what was she doing there and most importantly how did she find him?

Robert: Babe, what are you doing here? How did you find me?

Andy- That isn’t important right now. We need to talk.

Robert- I can’t live without you and if you came here to tell me you want a divorce I really can’t handle that right now.

Andy- What? A divorce? What makes you say that?

Robert- Andy, I overheard you talking with Dean in the lockers a few days ago. You’re doubting your decision to marry me. I panicked and took off. I have no one else. Everyone hates me and I just feel, that maybe I just don’t belong there anymore. I needed to come back to the one place I use to escape to when I was here and missing Claire —-this cabin.

(Andy grabs Roberts face and kisses him to assure him that everything is gonna be okay.)

Andy- baby, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you when you tried to explain to me about Maya’s position. I soon learned it wasn’t what I thought and that there were other parts of the conversation you had with the chief commissioner I missed because when I heard you offer up to be battalion chief at the expense of Maya being relieved of her duties I instantly assumed the worse and questioned if this marriage was a mistake. I had a therapy session with Dr. Diane Lewis and my mom and they made me realize some things. That I shouldn’t make a permanent decision on temporary emotions or misunderstandings. I had time to think about it and I realized I had a lot of thinking to do and decisions to make and I knew I couldn’t make those decisions without my husband and the father of my child. Robert’s expression upon hearing the news was priceless. He asked, Are you….? Andy replies, yes! Robert is in shock! Are you serious? He asked. I’m gonna be a father?! Andy says yes! How far along are you? I’m about six in a half weeks along. (Shows Robert the sonogram)Robert exclaims, “this explains your sudden increase in appetite and your appetite for more sex! He picks Andy up and swings her around in excitement and they kiss! He asks Andy, “Does this mean we’re not getting a divorce?” Andy replies, “No, but if we want our marriage to strive and survive I suggest we continue having counseling and learning how to communicate and respect each other at home and in the work place and now as parents. I know having tough conversations are hard but we must if we want this marriage to have a fighting chance. Do you agree on this that our marriage does need work and to seek counseling? Robert, I’ll do anything to keep from losing my wife and baby. I’m sorry for undermining your authority. I was just so use to being in charge and lost my confidence after being demoted to probie. Andy replies, I understand that it was hard and I know you’re on your way back up, so hang in there. I love you, babe. Andy responds,” I love you too baby.

Robert- How do you feel about the pregnancy?

Andy- well, I’m nervous and I feel a bit uncertain.

Robert- uncertain? Why?

Andy- because we only briefly spoke about having a family and with everything going on in both our lives where we weren’t able to catch a break the conversation was never continued. Baby, I was afraid of ending up like my mother. I honestly never wanted to become a mother or a wife of that matter just like my mom, I had fears of having mental illnesses like her or not able to bond with our baby and abandoned her or him. But who would’ve thought that the most unlikely person in my mom would be the one person who gave me hope in my marriage?

Robert- God and life has a way surprising us. Robert screams, “I’M GONNA BE A FATHER”!!!!

Andy and Sullivan kiss and put on some music and Salsa dance together! 💃🏻🕺🏾

Days later Robert and Andy return to Seattle to tell the team they are expecting a baby and that Andy is nearly two months pregnant! Instantly, Maya claims godmother and Ben as the baby’s Godfather! Vic, Travis and the team plan for a baby shower. The Sullivan’s tells the gang to chill for a bit as the baby shower is a long ways off, but he understood everyone’s excitement to have another firehouse baby in the station and a playmate for little Pru! With all of the excitement Andy runs to the restrooms to puke! Morning sickness has been rough on her lately. I guess that’s typically how it is during the first trimester. Robert runs behind her to check on her. Oddly enough after Andy puked she asked her husband for pickles and bananas over vanilla ice cream!🤮 Clearly, his wife’s weird ravings are through the roof. The Sullivan’s are tired after a very long road trip back to Seattle and are headed home but before that Robert stops by a supermarket to get his wife all of the foods she was craving and then they headed home. Once they arrived home they went upstairs and Robert ran him and the Mrs. a hot bubble bath to sit and relax. Andy sat in front of him in the tub while Robert rubbed both his hands on his wife’s growing belly. He whispers to Andy, “We made this baby in love from our love” and I already love him or her so much. Robert takes Andy’s hand and kisses it and then kisses her neck. Andy, I know. We made a lot of love. A baby was sure to pop up at some point. Under her breath she whispers,”I love you, baby.”

THE NARRATIVE….

7 in a half months later Andy is at work on desk and phone duty while the team Ben and Carina is out on a call for an elderly woman whose blood sugar dropped and fainted as her eldest daughter found her lying on the floor unconscious when she called for aid-car and Robert, Dean, Vic and Travis are on the other side of town putting out a building fire for a local business. Intercut back to Andy at the Station 19 was answering a,phone call at the front desk when she said, “uh-oh! The person on the other line was calling for her to answer, but couldn’t because her water broke! Another worker behind her took the phone and hung it up and Called for the aid car to transport Andy to Grey-Sloan Hospital. On the radio they alerted the team that Andy went into labor and her Husband Robert heard it, panicked and rushed to Grey-Sloan Hospital to be with his wife! Luckily, the team was already on they’re way back after completing their duties. With Carina being Andy’s physician and gynecologist she rushed to the hospital as quickly as she could! Robert arrives in a panic asking what room his wife was in and rushed to be with her! He was the only one that could be in the room with her during labor. He rushed by her side as he entered into the room and said, “Baby, “I’m here”! Are you okay?! How far apart are the contractions?! Right now every 5to 6 mins. I had just had one before you burst in the room! Robert took his wife’s hand and kissed her lips and her forehead. Carina comes into the room ready to check Andy to see how many centimeters she is. Carina checks Andy and she is about 6 centimeters so not too long before baby is born! As Andy attempts to say something a contraction hits and Robert tells her to breath it out slowly. Carina says I’ll be back to check you in an hour and that in the meantime she should try to rest during that time. Robert ask Andy if there was anything she needed and she asked for a cup of ice chips because her mouth was dry. Andy was a soldier and didn’t want an epidural but wanted to give birth naturally. So, Robert went and got her a cup of ice chips. Meanwhile, the station 19 crew were all out in the lobby awaiting to hear the birth of Robert and Andy’s baby and what they’re having because they agreed early in the pregnancy that they didn’t want to know the gender and to be surprised. At their baby shower the crew threw for Andy they all bought baby neutral items and loads of diapers of different sizes and phases of the babies growth. They were set for life! The team caught Robert headed back up to Andy’s room and asked how she was doing. Robert replied, My wife is a trooper and is doing well! She didn’t even want to have an epidural! I’ll keep you all posted. The baby should be born tonight as Andy Is at 6 centimeters now! Robert yells , “I gotta go”! Don’t wanna miss a thing! Robert heads back to Andy’s room and shocked to see Carina back so soon with a couple of nurses. Andy Is progressing so fast towards birth. I guess the Pitocin sped up the contractions because She was now at 8 centimeters dialated! Robert quickly washes his hands and puts on his scrubs and rushes back in to help his wife bring they’re child into the world. Only two more centimeters to go and it’s push time! 30 minutes later Andy is pushing for the 3rd time and they hear they baby cry! Sullivan is over the moon and so proud of his wife! Carina announces , “IT’S A GIRL”!!! Weighing in at 6LBS 10 ounces and 21” long! She’s gonna be tall like her father! Welcome to the STATION 19 world baby “TAINA ANDREA HERRERA SULLIVAN”!! Robert is given the honor of cutting the umbilical cord of his new baby daughter! 5 minutes after their daughters birth Robert burst out to the lobby to shout, “ITS A GIRL”!! To the crew! Baby and Andy are doing well. She came in weighing 6 lbs 10 ounces and 21 inches long! We named her TAINA ANDREA HERRERA SULLIVAN!! You can hear 19 ooohing and ahhhing over the beautiful name they chose for their baby daughter! Congratulations to the new parents!

The End

BABY SULLIVAN-COMING SOON!

#fanfic #fiction #surrera #station 19 #Andy and Robert #fantasy

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zelenacat · 4 years

Text

When We Were Young- Chapter 11- An Obitine Story- (Content-ish Warning)

Perhaps she’d been wrong about Obi-Wan’s feelings for her, maybe a lighter feeling had been buried under years of hard training to shut out love. Still, Satine went to bed with a smile that night and woke up seeing Obi-Wan’s face.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love again.” Parna teased.

“It’s too late for that,” Satine sighed, “honestly, I feel slightly hopeful.”

“Hopeful?”

Satine blushed, “Maybe he’ll kiss me today.”

Parna’s brow scrunched up, “We are talking about the father of your children, right?”

“Yes,” Satine nodded, “who knew this would be so hard?”

Parna laughed, a full belly sound that made her lady smile.

“Let’s get you dressed, Your Grace,” Parna grinned, “you have a big day ahead.”

“The Chancellor or-”

“No, Satine,” Parna winked, “your Jedi lover.”

The Duchess’ jaw dropped, “Don’t call him that!”

Parna giggled, “Forgive me, Your Grace, I just wanted to test your limits.”

Satine opened and closed her mouth many times before speaking again.

“Help me dress, Parna.”

“Of course, My Lady.”

The Chancellor’s office was her destination, yet on her journey, a few lawmakers stopped her and congratulated her on her perseverance. Mon Mothma was especially kind.

“Thank you, Senator,” Satine replied, “your acknowledgement legitimizes my struggle.”

“Oh, of course,” the lady replied, “I’m pleased Senator Amidala was able to help.”

“So am I.” agreed the Duchess.

“Well, I won’t keep you long, Highness,” Mon Mothma smiled, “do enjoy your debriefing with the Chancellor.”

“Thank you,” Satine winked, “I’m afraid I shall need it.”

Upstairs, the Duchess found Padme Amidala speaking of her to the Chancellor himself.

“I require no thanks.” Satine gestured, strolling in.

Obi-Wan shot her a look, she smiled.

“Satine,” Padme took the Duchess’ hands in hers, “the Senate held an emergency meeting, and Republic troops have been told to stand down.”

“Allow me to offer a sincere apology on behalf of the entire Republic,” the Chancellor nodded, “you are a most loyal servant, and we are all grateful.”

“Yes,” agreed the Chancellor’s aide, “grateful.”

Satine raised an eyebrow.

“Chancellor, Mosemeda,” Padme began, “if you would join me for a moment, we have some logistics to discuss to ratify the Senate’s decision.”

As they left, Satine noticed how obediently Master Skywalker followed Padme.

“But for you, this wouldn’t have happened.” the Duchess smiled, sticking her arm out in front of Obi-Wan.

“No, it was your unshakable faith in your people,” the Jedi grinned, “and your determination that brought about this result.”

“I appreciate that,” Satine tried to hide her blush, “but still, who’s behind all of this? Who tampered with that recording, who tried to convict me of murser and throw me in jail?”

“I’m not sure,” Obi-Wan frowned, “but as you said yourself, things are changing, and sometimes the line between friend and foe is blurred. Now more than ever.”

They stared at the sun rise for a moment.

“Would you,” Satine finally find the words, “would you-”

“Would I what?” Obi-Wan tried to hide his smirk, but failed.

“Do you have the day free?” Satine said quietly.

Obi-Wan lifted the Duchess’ chin, a move which caused her to inhale sharply, something Obi-Wan didn’t miss.

“I would love to spend the day with you, Satine.”

Looping her arm through Obi-Wan’s, the Duchess, tugging her Jedi along, left the Chancellor’s office.

“Where should we go first?” Satine asked as bubbly as she felt.

“Let me just comm Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed, “he’ll find this hilarious.”

“Hilarious?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan pressed a button on his communicator, “Anakin, come in.”

“Yes, Master?”

“I’m taking the day off.”

“Have fun with your girlfriend, Master.”

Obi-Wan’s face went red and slightly uncomfortable, Satine burst out laughing.

“Enjoy yourself on Coruscant, Your Grace.” the young Jedi whispered, a smile in his voice.

“Thank you, Anakin,” Satine grinned, “and tell Padme I say thank you again.”

“Will do, Highness.”

The comm ended.

Obi-Wan sighed, “You must forgive Anakin, Satine-”

“If he thinks it’s funny,” Satine smiled, “then I’d hate to ruin his joke.”

They began walking.

“He thinks everything is funny.” Obi-Wan observed.

“Except Padme.”

Obi-Wan sighed. Satine laughed.

“You know,” Obi-Wan began, “I really don’t think you should laugh at that.”

Satine clicked her tongue, “Ben, they’re cute.”

“Oh?”

Leveling Obi-Wan a look, Satine smiled, “We used to be cute.”

After a disgruntled, garbling noise escaped his throat, Obi-Wan coughed.

“As I remember-”

“Satine,” Obi-Wan groaned, “I don’t remember you delighting in my pain so much.”

Before she could stop herself, Satine muttered, “I delight in other things of yours.”

Obi-Wan froze.

“Your kindness, Ben,” Satine recovered, trying not to turn red, “and your ability to come to my rescue.”

“Thank goodness you meant that,” Obi-Wan smiled, sliding his hand across Satine’s waist, “and not something else.”

“Obi, I-”

“I have the same memories you do, Satine,” Obi-Wan commented, “I don’t think we need to be ashamed of it.”

Satine raised an eyebrow, “Ashamed?”

“Not ashamed per se,” the Jedi backtracked, realizing his mistake, “but, I, things now, and being reunited, I’m afraid-”

Obi-Wan left the rest of his sentence to the wind, and Satine gazed at him. They were leaving the senate building now, and as soon as they passed under the doors Obi-Wan seemed to loosen a bit.

“Where would you like to go, Obi?” Satine asked, still focused on his last sentence.

“There’s a nice garden where we can have a picnic,” Obi-Wan smiled at his genius, “but I thought you might want to change first.”

Satine noticed they were heading back to the Senate housing quarters.

“How wise.” the Duchess remarked.

Obi-Wan waited outside while Satine changed quickly. Parna helped of course, looking as giddy as Satine felt. When the Duchess exited, wearing her simple salmon pink ensemble, Obi-Wan actually looked her up and down and grinned, which made Satine tremble slightly.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Satine swallowed, “shall we go enjoy our picnic?”

The garden wasn’t modern, it was made to resemble an ancient garden where rows of imperfect petals gleamed in the sunlight. Gazing around, Satine noticed there weren’t many people here, how wise of her Obi-Wan. The Jedi led her to a bridge crossing a wide pond.

“Lilies!” Satine clapped.

“Yes, my dear,” Obi-Wan smiled, “lilies.”

“My symbol of serenity.”

“Aren’t I clever?” Obi-Wan asked, wrapping an arm around Satine’s waist and pulling her close.

The Duchess leaned her head on the Jedi’s shoulder, “Too clever for your own good.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, a sound that reverberated through his whole body, forcing Satine to realize they were standing awfully close.

“Come,” Obi-Wan said, grabbing her hand, likely thinking the same thing, “I know a place we can eat.”

Clutching the wicker basket in her right hand, Satine swung her left, the one that held Obi-Wan’s hand, and hummed quietly to herself.

“What are you thinking of, Satine?”

“It’s so peaceful here,” the Duchess sighed, “you would never guess this planet is at war.”

“I think it’s hard to understand a lot of things about war.” Obi-Wan commented.

“I don’t like war.” Satine stated.

Obi-Wan frowned, “I remember.”

“Innocent people die.” continued the Duchess, getting worked up.

“More so than during peacetime, I agree,” Obi-Wan nodded, “but is it old wounds that are bothering you?”

Satine blushed, surprised at how well her Jedi still knew her, “What do you mean?”

They had reached a woodsy area now, and Obi-Wan set down a blanket in the grotto where they were standing. Determined to look at anything but her Jedi, Satine surveyed the scene. The underbrush was slightly lacking here, and the sun poked through the leafy trees. Obi-Wan had chosen well.

“The circumstances that brought us together were particularly trying for you, as I remember,” Obi-Wan began, “but let’s not talk of that now, let’s enjoy our picnic.”

With a nod, Satine sat down across from Obi-Wan who opened the basket she had just placed. He rummaged around for a little while, then, with a smile, pulled out Satine’s favorite delicacy.

“Mandalorian cheese,” she squealed, “how did-”

“Dex’s diner,” Obi-Wan smiled, “they got everything.”

Satine snorted, then instantly regretted it.

Raising an eyebrow, Obi-Wan grinned, “How very unladylike.”

“What an ungentlemanly comment.” Satine quipped.

“Truce?” Obi-Wan asked, holding out the cheese.

“Truce.” Satine smiled, reaching for the food.

At the last second, Obi-Wan pulled back, causing Satine to teeter off-balance.

“Ben!” She pouted.

Obi-Wan grinned.

“I’m gonna get you for that,” Satine vowed, “I will.”

“The pacifist with morals?” Obi-Wan questioned, moving closer.

“A cruel Jedi?” Satine countered, meeting his stance.

“Cruel,” Obi-Wan tilted his head, a gleam in his eye, “I wouldn’t say I’m cruel, my dear.”

With an air of arrogance, Satine crossed her arms, “Well I would.”

“What else would you call me? Unforgiving?”

Satine rose to the challenge, “Cold.”

“Cold?”

“You take advantage of poor people.” Satine stated, laying the bait.

Obi-Wan grinned even wider, “People like you?”

“I never-”

Obi-Wan kissed her. Full blown, both hands on her face, in the light of day, kissed her, and Satine felt like she was so happy she could burst.

“My shining Jedi knight to my rescue once again.” Satine gasped, touching her nose to Obi-Wan’s.

“Am I cruel now?”

“Only if you don’t do that again.” was the reply.

Obi-Wan did kiss her again, this time rolling her bottom lip between his teeth. Satine melted, but she wasn’t one to go down without putting up a fight.

“Ow!”

The Duchess grinned, “You’ve gone soft, Obi.”

“Have I now?” the Jedi asked, moving the basket out of the way.

“Yes.” Satine smiled smugly.

“Well,” Obi-Wan sighed, “I guess I’ll have to eat this Mandalorian cheese and bread all by myself.”

“Oh no,” Satine gestured wildly, hand on her head, “whatever shall you do.”

Obi-Wan gazed at her warmly, grinning softly as he met his lips to hers. He only stopped when Satine’s stomach growled.

“Cheese?”

“Cheese.”

Satine and Obi-Wan laughed for the rest of the afternoon, trading stories of youthful Anakin and hilarious diplomacy situations as they feasted on Mandalorian cheese, bread, and fruits. Satine felt like she was home. By the time they finished all the food in the basket, it was lunch time.

“You know,” Obi-Wan tilted his head, “we should do something fun.”

Satine crossed her arms playfully, “That depends on your definition of fun, Ben.”

The Jedi grinned, “Mini golf.”

Satine burst into laughter, Obi-Wan held out his hands.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the Jedi began, “but it’s actually really fun.”

“Did Anakin tell you that?”

Obi-Wan sighed, “I’ll admit the first time I was forced to go, I was very skeptical.”

“You,” Satine giggled, “playing a child’s version of an old man’s pastime.”

“I assure you,” Obi-Wan grinned, “I won’t make any jokes at your expense.”

Satine raised an eyebrow, “I’d like to see you try.”

They made it three holes before Obi-Wan agreed that he wouldn’t let Satine beat him.

“Ben, I swear,” Satine began, “if you lose one more time-”

“You’re hitting it too hard,” Obi-Wan explained, “if you were more patient-”

“Patient,” Satine snorted, “next you’ll want me to be calm.”

“You’re calm all the time.”

“Except when I’m playing mini-golf apparently.” Satine shrugged.

“Here,” Obi-Wan stepped forward, placing his hands on Satine, “let me help you.”

The ball went off it’s mark though, because just before Satine hit the ball, Obi-Wan smacked her butt.

“Ben,” Satine growled through clenched teeth, “we’re in public!”

“Still,” the Jedi smiled, “you walked right into that one.”

With a sigh, Satine gestured for Obi-Wan to try, and even though she stepped on his foot, Obi-Wan got a hole in one. In dismay, Satine shook her head.

By the time they finished the course, it was three o’clock in the afternoon.

“I’m hungry.” Satine observed.

“So am I.” agreed the Jedi.

“What now?”

Obi-Wan gazed sideways at Satine, “Have you ever had ancient food?”

Squinting, Satine answered, “Some.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan grabbed Satine’s hand and spun her around, “there’s a marketplace that sells Ancient food from stalls.”

“I’d like that.” the Duchess blushed.

Together they walked into a part of town Satine would’ve never chosen to venture into.

“Ben,” she whispered, pulling at her hood, “is this safe?”

“Mainly,” Obi-Wan answered, “just look like you know what you’re doing.”

Satine tsked her tongue, but went along with the ruse. They went from stall to stall buying hot snacks before making their way back up towards the Coruscanti surface. Obi-Wan led her into the residential districts, and when Satine commented on it, Obi-Wan replied that they had the best parks.

“We already ate in a garden though.” Satine pointed out.

“Parks,” Obi-Wan grinned, “not a garden.”

They ended up eating everything under an umbrella which was made to look like the heavens. Satine pointed out the Mandalore system to Obi-Wan.

“I never would’ve guessed how large it was.” the Jedi commented.

“It does get busy sometimes.” Satine admitted.

Obi-Wan grinned, “I do hope today’s distraction was successful.”

“It was beyond successful, Obi.”

“I’m glad.” the Jedi nodded.

“Where are we going next?” Satine perked up, bouncing like a child.

“Roller skating.”

Satine’s jaw dropped.

“I’m just kidding,” Obi-Wan laughed, “I’ve something far more romantic planned.”

“Do you?” Satine raised an eyebrow.

“You finished?” asked the Jedi eagerly.

Satine sighed, “Yes.”

They went to a carnival. Satine ogled everything. They had carnival’s on Mandalore of course, but Satine, being royalty, was never allowed to go as a child, and when she became Duchess she was far too busy.

“Look at the lights.” Satine marveled, head swerving.

Obi-Wan led her to a tall mechanical ride with comfortable pods.

“You could see all of Coruscant from up there.” observed the Duchess.

Obi-Wan gave her shoulder a shove, “Where do you think we’re going?”

Satine smiled, giddy. There wasn’t much waiting in line, and the view was gorgeous. All the evening lights of the city were glowing against the darkening sky. As the ground below became smaller and smaller, Satine turned to Obi-Wan, who was watching her with enthusiasm.

“You’ve done it again, Ben.” she smiled.

“All the best for you, My Dear.” he winked.

“Come,” Satine patted the bench next to her, “sit next to me.”

Obi-Wan obeyed.

“Whatever happened to the bashful Jedi I met on the Coronet?” Satine teased.

“Bashful,” Obi-Wan began, “I don’t think-”

“My love declaration.”

“Ah,” the Jedi nodded, “I was not expecting that.”

“You underestimate a woman’s romantic notions of noble love.” Satine commented, slightly embarrassed.

“Noble love?”

“You’ve saved my life on numerous occasions, Obi,” the Duchess turned, “surely you know that.”

Obi-Wan sighed, “I tried to forget my love for you, Satine, but I could never.”

Satine placed the Jedi’s hands in hers and kissed his cheek.

“Ben, circumstance has brought us back together, I have to think it’s for a reason.”

Obi-Wan turned to his Duchess.

“So do I, Satine,” he agreed, “because I know that I’ll love you until the day I die.”

She kissed Obi-Wan, right at the apex of the machine’s height.

“You’ve always been the one for me, Obi-Wan,” Satine smiled softly, touching her Jedi’s nose with hers, “it was terrible being separated from you.”

“We’re back together now, My Dear,” Obi-Wan touched his forehead to Satine’s, “I’m just grateful you cracked my resolve.”

“So am I.”

They didn’t speak of what would happen next, beecause really, none of them knew how they were going to accomplish it. Satine figured she’d say that the Jedi was chivalrous and he was walking her home, if anyone asked. When they arrived in the Senate’s housing quarters Satine and Obi-Wan found them mostly quiet due to the late hour. The Duchess, being cautious, had sent a quiet comm to her lady, telling her to see if she could sleep with Padme’s maids.

“Satine,” Obi-Wan began quietly, “do you want me to leave you here?”

“No, Obi,” Satine whispered back, placing her hands on Obi-Wan’s neck, “stay with me.”

The Duchess stepped in first, Parna wasn’t there, then she motioned for Obi-Wan to follow her.

“Nice room.” the Jedi observed.

Satine locked the door and closed the blinds.

“Satine, I-”

“Please don’t deprive me of this moment, Ben,” Satine swallowed, taking a step forward, “there’s no need to be shy.”

Even in the darkness Satine could see Obi-Wan’s blush.

“It’s been so long,” he argued, “and we were so young.”

Satine took another step forward, placing her hand on Obi-Wan’s arm, “We’re not young anymore.”

That seemed to be all the reassurance he needed. Pulling herself deeper into Obi-Wan’s kiss, Satine slid her hand up his side, catching his outer robe in her hand. As her Jedi ran kisses along her jawline and neck, Satine gathered the other side of Obi-Wan’s robe.

“Ben, help me.”

Reluctantly at first, Obi-Wan stopped kissing Satine and began shedding his layers, Satine did the same. Feeling Obi-Wan pause, the Duchess looked up. He was staring at her, her Ben, his expression demonstrating more adoration and softness than Satine thought possible.

“Obi-”

He kissed her again, latching onto her waist.

“Ben,” Satine giggled as kisses trailed onto her collar, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan smiled, picking up Satine bridal style, “and I’m very happy you aren't.”

“You were always a romantic, Ben.” the Duchess winked.

Obi-Wan set Satine down on the bed, “You’ll be glad of that.”

Satine raised an eyebrow, “Will I?”

Tugging at her remaining clothes, the Jedi commented that in the morning she’d rethink her stance on his beard.

“Will I?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan answered, completely exposing himself, “you’ll adore it.”

Satine leaned back and crossed her arms, “That’s a pretty tough challenge.”

Growling Obi-Wan leaned into Satine’s ear, “I accept.”

The Duchess discovered quickly that she definitely preferred this Obi-Wan to her younger one, mainly because he had better stamina and stronger muscles.

“What are you thinking about, My Dear?” Obi-Wan asked, resting his hands on Satine’s thighs.

Tilting her head, the Duchess answered, “I don’t know if I like that beard yet.”

Obi-Wan licked his lips, “We’ve hardly begun, darling.”

There were many things Satine realized that night, one, was that her Ben was cunning. He had a clever way of surprising her, sometimes gentle, others rougher, but Satine was obviously enjoying herself. Hoisting her leg around Obi-Wan’s waist, Satine let herself melt into her Jedi. She fell back on the bed, exhausted far too soon for Obi-Wan’s liking.

“I don’t do physical activity often, Ben.” Satine explained.

“You walk.”

Satine corrected herself, “Physical exertion, then.”

Eyes grinning with hellfire, Obi-Wan told Satine to lie back. She did.

“Ben,” she gasped a few seconds later, gripping the sheets, “what-”

“You like it.” the Jedi mumbled into her thigh.

“Ben-” Satine sighed, the syllables drawn out as Obi-Wan continued.

When he was finished, he popped up and crawled over to Satine like a puppy.

“Like the beard now?”

Satine couldn’t help but smile, “You’re devious, Ben.”

“Am I?”

“And duplicitous,” Satine continued, “tricking me like that.”

In response, Obi-Wan began softly biting at Satine’s neck.

“What am I going to do with you, Obi?”

“I thought you were tired?” the Jedi teased moving his lips down to her collarbone.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Satine shook her head, “you’re terrible.”

“But you love me.”

He didn’t understand the full depth of that statement.

“Too much for my own good.” Satine agreed.

Yawning, the Duchess rolled into her Jedi. Using the force, Obi-Wan pulled the covers up over them.

“Hold me while I sleep?” Satine asked, eyes drooping.

“Of course, my love.”

The morning was far less romantic, filled with quick kisses, arranged themselves to be presentable, while trying to engage in conversation.

“Wait,” Obi-Wan asked just before heading out, “where was your lady.”

“Sleeping with Padme’s ladies.” Satine answered, brushing her wet hair.

Obi-Wan stiffened, “Anakin’s gonna find out.”

“He won’t tease you,” Satine assured, “he’s a grown man.”

“You really don’t know him if you believe that.” Obi-Wan replied.

With a sigh, Satine answered, “I’ll see if Padme won’t tell him.”

“Thank you, darling,” Obi-Wan kissed her cheek, “now, put the vent back on once I leave.”

“Yes, Ben,” smiled the Duchess, “we went over this.”

Her Jedi made it out undetected, unfortunately, Satine’s two bodyguards asked Parna on her way in where she was last night, and of course, the lady had to respond, “Doing my faithful duty to my lady.” And apparently, she winked.

#obitine #obiwan #satine x obiwan #obi wan kenobi #korkie kryze #korkie kenobi #satine kryze #duchess satine

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anonniemousefics · 4 years

Text

Dying Tomorrow

Originally posted on AO3

Fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom | Kaz + Inej

Word count: 4,927

***Rated NSFW (aged-up characters)*** -- It’s real smutty, guys.

Synopsis: It's been over ten years since the raid on the Ice Court, and Inej rarely thought of it anymore. And she tried to not think of the boy who'd pulled it off. But Fjerda did not forget. And now Kaz and Inej are reunited after years apart: awaiting their fate on the gallows in Djerholm. What final words of truth do they have to share with each other?

Rough hands threw Inej into the dark, and she caught herself on her knees, hands against cold, rough stone. The heavy iron door shut behind her with a resounding clang, the hefty lock lurching into place. And, for the first time in weeks, she was alone with her mind. Her heavy breathing echoed off the dungeon’s stone walls.

It had been over ten years since the raid on the Ice Court. An entire decade. In the grand scheme of all of her capers, the Ice Court still ranked in the top five, but had certainly been bumped out of the top slot years ago. She rarely thought about it anymore. And rarely thought about the boy who’d somehow pulled it all off.

But Fjerda had not forgotten. And now Fjerda had come to collect.

Inej pushed herself up to her feet, trying to take stock of herself in the dim light. She felt naked without her knives. Her black hair, which she’d chopped to her shoulders years ago, hung in dirty strings, mangled and knotted from the weeks she’d spent in a holding cell in Djerholm. She was sure her grey prison clothes were starting to smell.

She hadn’t thought of the boy who’d broken into the Ice Court in years, but now, more than ever, she wished she could get her hands on him.

“Inej.” Like something from a dream, that old, familiar grating voice, like stone against stone, called from the dungeon’s dark shadows, and Inej thought for a moment she might have lost her mind. She squinted into the darkness.

Son of a bitch. Kaz Brekker himself.

He limped into the thin line of flickering torch light that seeped in from the hall. How many years had it been? His hair was longer, his angles sharper, the taper of his shoulders to his waist clearly that of a man’s and no longer a boy’s. He was in prison clothes, too, old and new bruises blooming across his face and the scruff on his jaw. He had a new scar across his lip she’d never seen before.

“You.” Of all the faces she thought she might see inside a Fjerdan prison, this was the last she expected. She couldn’t believe the Fjerdans would put them together.

But then, she supposed it mattered very little to them where prisoners awaited their death sentence.

“Hello, Wraith,” Kaz rasped.

Her heart slammed against the inside of her ribcage. Her cheeks felt hot and buzzing. Kaz Brekker. Kaz Brekker.

Kaz fucking Brekker.

“You.” When she found her voice again, the rage came out in a growl. She could barely see straight. She would kill him. She would kill him right here. She crossed the cold stone floor in three quick steps and threw all of her weight into slamming an arm across his chest, throwing him up against the dungeon’s cold wall.

“You son of a bitch.” She bared her teeth and seized fistfuls of his scratchy prison shirt. “You implicated me. You sold me out.”

“You know I did no such thing.” Kaz kept his hands, his bare hands, out to the side, his dark eyes as imperceptible, as cold and unfeeling as ever. He wasn’t fighting her, and how she hated him for it.

“They blew up The Wraith,” she snarled in his face. She was out of tears to cry. All that was left was blinding, white hot rage. “You’ve cost me everything. You better start begging me for your life, or you’re not going to live to hang tomorrow.”

“I didn’t give them anything.” In the dark, Kaz’s eyes grew wider. He believed her. He knew she could strangle him with her bare hands.

“Then how come you’re the only one here?” Inej wasn’t loosening her grip, not for a moment. She should have never trusted Dirtyhands to run a clean job. “Who else could have tipped them off?”

“If I was going to sell you out, don’t you think I’d do a better job bargaining than this?” Kaz was beginning to raise his rasping voice. “Do you think I’d still be waiting to die tomorrow? Don’t you think I know enough to have prevented this?” And he held up his left hand to the light. There, at the end, were two bloody, bandaged stumps where his pinky and ring finger had been.

Inej faltered. She started to loosen her grip.

“If it wasn’t you, then who was it?” She was still seething.

“I don’t know,” Kaz said. “And believe me, I’d love to know. I’ll plaster Ketterdam with his innards when I find out.”

Fine. The truth mattered little anymore anyway. She released him with one last angry shove and stormed to the other side of the dungeon.

For a long time, she thought the silence was preferable. She didn’t want to even look at him. She was furious with him, but, even more frightening, memories long buried had bubbled to the surface while she’d had him in her hands. She’d spent many years letting go of what she’d wanted from him, what he could not give. She’d built a life for herself, with other lovers who had come and gone. All of it now at the bottom of the sea. And now the cruelest irony of it all: now she would spend her final hours with the only thing she’d wanted and never could quite claim for herself.

The Saints must really hate her.

But eventually the great, yawning silence of the dungeon became too much. The bleak unknown of what was to come struck her deep down in her gut. She needed distraction. Kaz had been good for that, at least.

“How’d they get you anyway?” she said, finally. This would at least be a good story.

“There’s not much to tell,” Kaz said, to her dismay. “The Fjerdans struck an extradition treaty with Kerch. And the Kerch have wanted to get rid of me for a long time.” She could see the glint of his wicked smile even in the dark. He would be proud of being hated by an entire country, the bastard.

“So, what – they just extradited you?” She raised an eyebrow. Seemed like an anticlimactic end for the Bastard of the Barrel.

“Hauled me out of my office, put me on the next boat to Fjerda,” Kaz summarized, with a cavalier shrug. Somehow, she doubted he really felt so unruffled about it. But she’d stopped trying to know the truth of Kaz Brekker long ago. Some vaults were best left locked.

“The Fjerdans blew up The Wraith?” Kaz asked. Inej stiffened.

“We’re not talking about that,” she said, flatly.

“I’m glad the old girl was still in sailing shape to the last,” Kaz commented, and then, a little more pointed: “I’d often wondered what happened to her since you stopped writing.”

Inej narrowed her eyes at him.

“Really? We’re doing this? Right here?” Her lip curled back in a sneer.

“Is the venue not good enough for you?” Kaz rasped back. “Would you like me to call the waiter over -- see if he can find us better seating?”

“You are such an ass.”

“You appreciated that about me once.”

“I have never.” Inej leaned forward, hoping he’d catch the barbs in her voice. “Once I thought there might have been something underneath all of your assholery.”

“And?”

“I got tired of digging for treasure and only returning with pennies.”

And she leaned back against the dungeon wall again. She glared at the door, willing it to open again and take her away from this ghost of her past. But of course it wouldn’t. Not until the gallows were ready.

“Interesting.” She couldn’t help rolling her eyes when Kaz’s voice echoed again.

“What?” she barked, irritated.

“I lived in fear so long of being hated by you,” he said. “I would have moved heaven and earth to avoid it. And yet I find I like it better than being ignored.”

“Good to know.” She would keep quiet then. She wouldn’t even look at him. She didn’t want to look at him anyway, how the prison clothes clung to the muscles of chest or how his coffee-black gaze could still seem to pierce right through her. Looking was doing her no good at all.

“Was your crew on The Wraith when she met her end?” But Kaz wasn’t going to be ignored, apparently. “Or family? Friends?” He paused. “Or a lover?”

Subtle.

“I think most made it to the row boats,” she said, and then corrected herself for the sake of her heart. “I think all of them made it to the row boats.” She’d seen them dotting the waves just before the Fjerdan ship took aim.

“Do you think your lover survived?” Kaz asked. She glanced his direction, against her better judgment, to see he was aimlessly picking at dirt under his nails, like he barely cared at all.

“Yes,” she lied. Let him think there was a lover. “I think he did.”

“Should I let him do the honors of rescuing you?” Kaz lifted his eyebrows, still preoccupied with the dirt on his fingers. “Or are you not willing to risk his failure?”

Inej’s heart skipped.

“Are you saying you have a plan to get out of here?” She was feeling the tiniest shred of hope for the first time in weeks. If anyone could do it, it was Kaz Brekker. He’d done it once before.

“Maybe.” He sounded noncommittal. “We’ll see.”

Inej grit her teeth. She couldn’t help shooting to her feet, pacing in her furious energy.

“This,” she seethed. “This right here. This is why I stopped writing.”

“Go on,” Kaz frowned. In the torchlight, she could see the muscle in his jaw tick. Good. Maybe there was still emotion in there after all.

“You love to withhold, don’t you?” she growled at him. “Withholding information, withholding money, withholding friendship, withholding love. Sometimes I think you love withholding more than you love kruge.”

“So, you are still thinking about me sometimes,” and a smile began to quirk at the edge of his mouth.

“Stop it,” Inej spat. “I will smack that stupid look right off your face.”

“You do that.” And Inej startled when Kaz pushed off from his side of the dungeon and took three steps towards her. Her breath caught. “Go on,” he was saying, growing closer. “Hit me. You hate me; I know you want to. Stop being so withholding, and hit me.”

It was like he was sucking the wind out of her sails. Every nerve in her body felt as if it was standing on end when he drew near, so near she could feel the warmth of him radiating towards her. She could feel his breath, see his pulse in the sinew of his neck, the way the torchlight cast shadows across the muscle beneath his collarbone. She hated him. She hated him so much. She hated that after all these years and all these other lovers she could still feel this way, still be drawn into his orbit as if no time had passed at all.

He bent his head, and she held her breath. Why wasn’t she moving? Why couldn’t she respond? His head was tilting, and she was staring into the deep wells of his eyes, rimmed in thick lashes. How could someone so cruel have such beautiful eyes?

Then he stopped, his nose inches from her cheek.

“I got tired of your self-righteousness,” he whispered there, and her face burned like never before. He straightened himself once again with that shit-eating smirk, like he’d gotten all the information he needed. Well, so had she.

So she did it.

She smacked him across his bruised jaw, hard enough that his face turned with the blow.

What did it matter? They were dying tomorrow anyway.

But he looked back at her with eyes that burned with something she couldn’t decipher, and she couldn’t think straight. She bit back the apology that was already threatening her lips.

“Better,” he rasped, looking satisfied. He really did prefer not to be ignored.

He turned to limp back to the other side of the dungeon. Inej closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind of the image of him so close to her.

“They took your gloves,” she heard herself say. She wouldn’t apologize, but maybe she wouldn’t ignore him.

“I don’t wear gloves anymore,” Kaz replied, leaning against the stone wall again with a heavy sigh.

This was perhaps the most surprising news all day.

“You don’t?” she said. “How long?”

“Three years, give or take,” Kaz replied. Inej was trying to mentally calculate how long since her last letter when he went on. “Turns out being a twenty four year old virgin is not conducive to maintaining Barrel boss status. Barrel thugs are not particularly open-minded about leadership qualities. I got help. It was that or lose the Dregs.”

“Oh.” Inej had no idea what to say to that. She didn’t particularly like thinking about the boy who’d trembled when he softly kissed her neck having a string of conquests. But then, that wasn’t fair, was it? She hadn’t remained chaste, either.

“Good for you,” she found herself replying. Did she mean it? She supposed she did. This was awkward.

To her surprise, Kaz let out a strange, rasping chuckle.

“What?” She frowned.

“I’d once imagined this conversation with you happening a thousand different ways, but never this one,” he said, dryly. “This particular outcome evaded me.”

“Quite a feat,” Inej remarked. “One point to Fjerda.”

“We’ll see,” Kaz shrugged again, and the only reason she didn’t slap him was because she already had.

“You never would tell me your mind,” she said. “As if, after all we went through, you still couldn’t trust me. And I had tried so hard for so long for your trust, Kaz. That was a brutal realization, the day I understood that about you.”

“It was never a matter of trust.” Kaz glared at her from across the room. “At any given moment, I am thinking of no less than twelve things. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to pick through all of that and determine and communicate the pertinent information to the situation and avoid revealing alarming, possibly irrelevant information that will only upset everyone if I did explain everything happening in my mind? If everyone would just trust me--”

“Oh, so it’s just that you think I’m too stupid to be privy to your mind.” Inej rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s much better.”

“That is not what I said,” Kaz groaned. He rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling, exasperated.

“I don’t want to argue about this.” Inej waved her arms, wildly. “I do not want to spend my last night in the world arguing about this meaningless shit. Saints, you always did this. You could always drag me into the most absurd, infuriating situations--”

“Oh, please,” Kaz rolled his eyes. “You loved it.”

“I absolutely did not--”

“You love it even now.” Kaz gave a careless gesture. “You love it, and you hate that. I see the way you keep looking at me.”

Inej nearly reached for her knives before remembering they’d been taken by Fjerdans.

“I do not like who you’ve become,” she spat at him.

“You have no idea who I’ve become.” Kaz folded his arms over his chest, the crow and cup tattoo rippling over the muscles of his forearm. He smiled, crookedly. “You have no idea what I can do, what I’ve learned, who even I am anymore, and it’s driving you mad. You could be planning your escape right now, and instead you can’t stop arguing with me.”

“Maybe I am planning my escape,” she hissed. She would not – would not – think about what he could do, what he had learned. “Maybe you’re not the only one capable of thinking of more than one thing.”

Kaz narrowed his eyes at her, working his jaw. It took her but a moment to recognize it; it had been so long. He was scheming.

Oh, Saints, save her. She’d missed that look.

“All right, then,” he said at last. “In honor of our last night in the world: I will tell you one full and honest truth. Whatever you want to know.” She opened her mouth. “On one condition.” Of course there was a catch. “I require one truth from you first. What do you say?”

“It’s always a deal with you, isn’t it, Brekker?” She shook her head. “What you are describing is what most people call friendship.”

“But we’re not really friends anymore, are we?” Kaz cocked his head. “I don’t claim to know much about friendship, but I think friends see each other more than once every five years. At best, we’re distant relatives.”

“We are definitely not that.” Inej really hoped he didn’t see her that way.

“We’re whatever you need to tell your lover to make him feel comfortable.” Kaz brushed it away. She’d already forgotten she’d lied to him about a lover. That wasn’t good.

“Well?” Kaz was raising his dark eyebrows at her.

“The deal is the deal,” she said, with a relinquishing shrug.

“Wonderful.” Kaz stepped away from the dungeon wall, his arms still crossed, and leaned towards her. “Did you ever love me?”

“Oh, for Saint’s sake!” Inej threw up her hands. Of all the things he could have asked.

“I suppose you don’t care much to know about the escape plans, then,” Kaz shrugged.

“You withholding son of a bitch. What makes you think I’m going to answer that question?”

“Your avoidance is saying a lot as it is.”

Inej squared back her shoulders, breathing hard in her fury. At least, she thought it was fury. She glared at him, seeing all the traces of that cocksure street rat she couldn’t get enough of once. The one she’d wanted so badly to touch and hold and love. His sharp jawline, his wide shoulders, his soft dark hair. Damn him, damn him. Why couldn’t he have just let her love him then?

She drew in a shaky breath. They were dying tomorrow anyway.

“You were my first love,” she confessed. It hurt her more than she thought it would to say it. Her shoulders slumped a little. “And no matter who else has warmed my bed, you have always held that title in my heart. Letting you go was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”

Kaz’s lips parted slightly, surprised. He stared at her, the rise and fall of his chest deepening.

“Then why did you?” he asked after a moment. But Inej swallowed hard and slowly shook her head.

“The deal was only one truth,” she said, softly. Her throat felt tight, and her chest hurt. She was not going to risk letting his cool indifference hurt her again.

Kaz looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. He tightened his arms over himself, his biceps swelling. The very picture of what she’d felt from him all those years ago. Guarded. Closed off. Withholding. Beautiful and yet so far out of reach.

“Your question, then,” he said, stiffly.

She should have asked of the escape. She’d been preparing to ask of the escape. Why did he have this kind of power over her still?

“Why didn’t you let me help you?” Her voice was low, and he looked up in surprise. He’d expected her to ask of the escape, too. “The way you sought help three years ago--”

“Give or take,” Kaz interrupted, looking dazed.

“I wanted to help you with all of it,” Inej went on. “You never let me get anywhere near close enough. And I couldn’t – I couldn’t--” She swallowed the lump building in her throat. “I couldn’t waste my life trying to heal someone who didn’t want to be healed. Why didn’t you want to heal?”

“You had been through enough.” Kaz was blinking hard. “You’d spent far too many years overburdened with men’s needs. I wanted to be near you, and I hated myself for wanting to be near you, because you deserved to be free of me. Of everything like me.”

“You let me go, too.” Inej lifted her chin, slightly. She felt relieved to be rid of the burden of guilt, a guilt she hadn’t realized she’d been harboring.

“I thought you might come back.” Kaz’s gaze drifted to the floor. “I hoped you would. You never said you wouldn’t. But months turned into years. You were happier wherever you were, with whomever you’d found. And I tried everything I could think of to get you out of my system. I’ve deprived myself of nothing, of no one I’ve wanted since you. Make no mistake: I wanted to heal.”

“And did you?” Inej’s voice felt like a croak. “Get me out of your system?” She wished she could slow her racing heart.

“The deal was only one truth,” Kaz replied, grating and dark.

And for a long while, the only sound in the dungeon was the monotonous dripping of leaking water, collecting in a pool in the stone. They were each rooted to where they stood, hardly daring to breathe or move. It was as if the air itself around them might shatter if they did.

“Inej.” Kaz spoke first.

“Yes?” Surely, he could hear the way her heart was beating.

“I have lived longer than I thought I would,” Kaz began. She heard him swallow once. “I’ve seen many men die. I am not afraid of death. I have done many things that have warranted it. The only thing I have ever feared is not having enough – of anything, you name it. Please indulge me one last truth.”

“All right.”

“Do you really have a lover?”

Inej was starting to tremble. If she moved now, she could not be sure what she would do next. She wasn’t sure what telling him the truth would do, but she was sure it could not be good. Some vaults are best left locked, she reminded herself again and again. Some vaults are best left locked.

But the pull of his eyes. The desire in his breath. Every longing she’d locked away was pounding at the vault door, demanding release.

They were dying tomorrow anyway.

“No,” she said in a whisper. Oh, what have you done?

And the dam broke. The air shattered. Kaz crossed to her in two swift steps, and she knew she was a goner before he even pulled her into his arms. She was reaching for his jaw, for his hair, pulling his mouth to hers. He made a gasping, growling sound deep in his chest when his lips slid over hers, and her whole body felt alight at the sound. Lips over teeth over tongues, she demanded what she’d too long been denied.

He was shoving her against the stone wall, cold at her back. He held himself up with his bandaged, damaged hand against the wall at the side of her head, and then began slipping his good hand under the hem of her scratchy prison top. She shivered when his bare hand skimmed her waist. She’d wanted this, oh how she’d wanted his hands, for years, and now she could feel every callus, every scar, every nail scraping, raking up her back.

“I hate you for taking so long,” she gasped when she pulled back. She buried her fingers into his hair as his teeth grazed up her neck. One of his hands was trailing down her back, scooping below her ass cheek.

“I hate you for not writing,” he rasped back, and bit her ear. She gasped and took his mouth again, letting him run his tongue along hers. She raked her hands over his shoulders, down the etched muscles of his torso, before dipping her hands underneath. He let go of her only long enough to pull the shirt off over his head, his hair mussed and slipping in his dark eyes. She wrapped her fingers in the hem of her own shirt and ripped it off over her head.

“This is a terrible idea,” she panted. Kaz pressed against her fully, his chest against hers, his hips aligned with hers.

“This is the best idea,” he disagreed, with a shake of his head, and slid one hand up her rib cage, cupping her breast. The bandage of his left hand brushed her jaw; he held her face in one hand and kissed her hard, again and again. She tried to hold back a moan against his lips when he began to draw circles around her nipple with his thumb. And then he was pulling back and working unrelenting kisses down her throat, pulling at the small of her back to lift her body towards him as he bent his head toward her breasts.

Every thought of escape, of gallows, of nooses, of death left her entirely when he began kissing her body, as if every inch of her was exulting in this inevitability. She couldn’t imagine now any other outcome than this. From the moment she’d been thrown into his dungeon, this was always where they were headed.

His hands were slipping below her loose trousers when his mouth returned to hers. Her arms were over his shoulders, her fingers gripping the back of his head, digging into his hair. And then she was sliding them over the slopes of his back muscles, hooking her thumbs into the backs of his trousers. He gave a rueful chuckle against her mouth before he let her help him out of his pants. He tore hers off before pressing against her again – naked and warm in the cold, terrible dark.

And still it wasn’t enough to slake the years of pent up desire he’d now unleashed in her. She wasn’t sure anything could ever be enough. Both hands were trailing her ass now, even with the bandage, and, as she panted through kisses, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He lifted her off the floor into his strong arms, his muscles enveloping her, burying one hand in her hair.

“Don’t stop now,” she huffed. “Then I might actually hate you.”

He gave a wicked laugh as he pushed them both against the wall, balancing her on his good leg. His hand left her hair and dipped between them. She was ready. Saints, she’d been ready for years.

She gasped when he guided his length into her, pressing her harder against stone. He gave a faltering moan, his head dropping to her shoulder, and she arched herself onto him. And he began to move within her, holding her ass with her ankles hooked behind his knees.

“I never got you out of my system,” he rasped, breathing hard against her ear. “It’s not possible. Gods, I’ll never stop wanting you.”

“I never wanted to let you go.” She dug her nails into his back, her head falling back against the wall. “It seemed like it was best for both of us.”

“You were probably right.” His gaze was hazy, his breathing labored with every thrust. “But I still hate it. Inej. Oh, Inej.” He breathed her name like a prayer, kissing her again, biting her lip. She dug her fingers into his hair, pulling, desperate, moaning and arching. He was thrusting frantically, mercilessly, so that she clenched her thighs around him, taking him deeper still. When she did, he broke away from her lips with a gasp, his eyes closing, his lips parting, every muscle tensing. It was the face, Inej realized, she’d imagined with every other lover, a face that drove her to the brink of her own pleasure.

And when his release came, Kaz cried out, shuddering against her, and his grip slipped, their naked, slick bodies staggering against the stone wall. For a moment, they held each other close as they caught their breath, shaking in the dark – Inej with her hands on the back of his neck, Kaz with his hands fitted to the curve of her waist.

“Isn’t there a guard outside?” Inej was suddenly realizing, blinking slowly.

“Probably.” Kaz just shook his head, not caring. “He’s probably having the wank of his life right now.”

“Ugh, Saints,” Inej grimaced, desperately wanting to scrub the image from her mind.

“Not a guard,” came a familiar voice from the other side of the door. Inej dove for her clothes. “But do make yourselves decent. I’m tired of plugging my ears out here, and we’ve got places to go.”

“Ah, Sturmhond.” Kaz was sliding his trousers back on. “You’re really cutting it close on the last-minute-rescue this time.”

“I don’t know, old friend,” Sturmhond replied. “Seems like you had just enough time.”

Inej smacked Kaz in the arm.

“You really couldn’t have just said, ‘Sturmhond’s coming to rescue us’?” she glared.

“I didn’t know for sure,” Kaz said, throwing his shirt back on. “I didn’t want to get your hopes up. Best to look death square in the face than go to the gallows expecting a rescue.”

“Wow,” Sturmhond sighed. “I’m really just brimming with delight at all this flattery and gratitude. You’re very welcome. It was no trouble at all.”

A key creaked and thudded in the ancient, heavy lock. The door swung open. Sturmhond waited with a sly, insinuating smirk before motioning for them to come along.

Kaz and Inej shared a coy smile and dashed down the hall. A world of possibility awaited.

#six of crows #crooked kingdom #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #kanej smut #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kaz + inej #kanej #soc #grishaverse

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kneamet · 4 years

Text

Angel of cards (15/16)

Trigger Warning: obsession, yandere, madness

Summary: Joker, Mr. J, anarchist psychopath, Tom Hiddleston. He had many nicknames. Joker was Gotham’s most dangerous and insightful man, with sharp makeup and horribly memorable scars on his face in the form of a smile. He was absolutely crazy and deadly. No one knows his real identity and everyone is afraid of his cruel jokes. But what happens when he becomes obsessed with an ordinary girl?

She belongs to him. No one can take her away from him. Even The Batman.

Chapter Fifteen: the show

“This is going to be the best show ever," the Joker thought to himself in excitement, almost starting to sing with joy. He licked his lips, still smiling.

Everyone will love it. He was sure of it. The best show, the best performance for ordinary viewers. Oh, how they will be happy to experience this! Their fear, their anxiety, their... helplessness. It's so emotionally unstable.

He began to laugh softly. People. Ordinary people in any bad danger will be emotionally unstable. They will do everything, everything! just to save yourself and your useless asses.

The Joker gritted his teeth and they creaked slightly. Damn people. Helpless, but trying to make a fool of themselves. The gods, perhaps? But no, he would be the God now, not one of those two-faced people.

He looked out the window of the building he was currently in and grinned. How lovely it is. Soon one of the airliners will explode. What could be better? Well, maybe just his angel.

He stifled a small groan. How he longed to touch the body of his angel. He was sure that she had already missed him. It had only been about three hours, and he was already bored. He couldn't wait to be reunited with her again. As soon as he comes back after this big joke, they will be reunited again. Only this time for real. Not coitus, they are animals, not sexual pleasures. Not at all.

He would never hurt his girlfriend like that. To him, she would always be his and his virgin. They can finally become one. Truly, as a whole. It will adorn her face.

And all, I would like the angel to marry him? Would she want to burden the bond of marriage with the Joker? He chuckled a little at the awkwardness. It's over she wants it. It would be very strange and incomprehensible if she refused such an offer. She loved him.

Oh, and when his angel marries him, she'll be the first lady of Gotham. So pretentious, perfect, and flawless. Probably the best man in the world. The best.

And their wedding! How wonderful it will be! An innocent bride in a delicate white dress that deeply frames her lovely, fragile body, like porcelain, and he, a psychopath (although as such he did not consider himself), in a black suit, without makeup. They will celebrate together and no one will disturb them. They won't invite anyone.

Well, maybe only if Betsy and then, would he agree? Hardly. Although the idea of handcuffing him and gagging him, forcing him to watch, and then removing his mask to the camera and startling everyone seemed very tempting. Too much. Probably, everything should be done like this.

And Betsy, does he have feelings for his angel? And if so, why? Why the fuck did he love her? If this turns out to be true and he loves his angel, the Joker will personally kill him.

"Maybe you shouldn't? Maybe we should just leave it at that. Or let Blake go?" Tom asked the Joker in his mind as he fiddled with the door. To which the Joker only frowned in reality and took a deep breath, licking his lips.

Fuck off, Tom! You don't belong here! And don't even dare invade the Joker's personal space! Just try one more time to break it!

The Joker clenched his fists and only tightened his grip on the words. No, he certainly liked to improvise, but now he is not up to it. It was necessary to show themselves correctly. The pitch was important.

The Joker smiled again. Now is the time to act. He coughed out the last of his laughter and held the microphone up to his face, looking down at the notebook.

"Today you will all be part of a personal show..." the Joker said loudly, waving one hand, almost jumping up and down with joy. Oh, he could almost feel the fear of these people. "What do you think, and for whom is it intended?" arching his eyebrows and making a moment of silence, he asked, until suddenly a loud and terrifying laugh came out of his mouth. "It's all for Betsy! Yes, for my beloved Betsy! This well-known Dark Knight! " the Joker only continued to increase his laughter.

Suddenly, his laughter faded as quickly and unexpectedly as it had appeared. He suddenly became serious immediately. No, these weak people are too stupid to understand him.

"With the help of the magic of diesel fuel and ammonium nitrate, I am ready to send you to the other world now," although they hardly understood anything, but still, why not enlighten them in this. "If anyone tries to get off the ferry, you'll all die," he drawled, smiling broadly at his reflection in the mirror.

"Every ferry has a remote control to blow up another ferry," his words, his very speech, were very casual, as if he wasn't talking about the murders, but about the weather.

"Tonight at midnight, I will blow you all up. If any of you push the button, I'll let this ferry live, " a small shiver ran down his back. How fucking exciting that is. To feel that someone's life depends on you. "So who will win: a collection of the most dangerous thugs of Harvey Dent, or cute and innocent citizens?"he knew that ordinary people are much tougher than criminals. Because those who at least more or less repented and admitted their actions, ordinary citizens understood their impunity.

The Joker was sure that ordinary people would eat each other if they were stranded on a desert island. They will fight. With your friends, relatives — all of them. Everything you need for the citizens and common people, so it's power and recognition from everyone that they are the main people in the world.

Arrogance is very contagious.

"It's up to you," he said, as if they had a choice. A choice, really? What choice can people have? Be a slave and obey, that's all. "Oh, and you better decide quickly, because the people on the other ferry may not be so noble," in this case, he was referring to the ship of the "pious and innocent" citizens.

***

He walked in anticipation and tension, as if he were a lion walking around in a small cage, all over the room of this old unfinished house. Although maybe it was a parking lot for cars? Hardly.

The Joker kept glancing out the big picture window. He was extremely excited about these shows. And that's it, will Betsy like it? Will he bless them with his angel?

Angel. His angel... She must be grieving and suffering there without him. Never mind, as soon as he was done with this business, he would go straight to his angel's home. They will be reunited. For real.

He chuckled slightly. Well, you'll like his idea. Exactly. Exactly. You will definitely like it!

Suddenly, his ears caught a gentle and very quiet knock. A rustle. Knock. A rustle. Oh, and here's our long-awaited guest that everyone was hoping to see, isn't it?

"There he is! Honestly, I'm already trembling with impatience!" The Joker muttered excitedly as he stopped and stared out the window, mesmerized. It will happen soon. Soon. Very soon. Soon. Soon. Soon.

A quick laugh escaped the Joker's mouth. Laughter. Very loud and frightening, making anyone shiver, just like the Joker himself.

"You-you-you better get out-of-the-shadows!" The Joker shouted loudly, not stopping his loud laughter. It echoed against the gray walls of the building. "Otherwise, you'll miss all the fireworks, Betsy!" he did not even turn to his unexpected guest.

"There won't be any fireworks," a loud and steely voice rang out again from the darkness. A man appeared. Betsy, you're gorgeous right now. So formidable and all that. What do you want to prove? That everyone is as ugly at heart as you are?" At these words of prayer, the Joker burst into another fit of laughter.

Why is Betsy so funny?

The laughter suddenly stopped again. The Joker turned and tilted his head, smiling at Batman as he moved closer to him.

"I want to marry Blake, my sweet angel!"

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herondaleholly31 · 4 years

Text

The Book Swap Chris Evans X Reader

Overview: You and Chris read your favourite books to each other

A/N.....It’s been 84 years. No seriously it has been a LONG time since I’ve put something on here, but I’ve been taking a break writing imagines and I am beginning to love writing bigger projects. I’ve had lots of inspiration during lockdown however so those should start to come on here at some point. Thank you for continuing to show love to the rest of my imagines and I hope you like this one. If there’s any requests for both scenarios and people keep sending them to me and I’ll make sure to keep wokring through them :)

Like and Reblog!

Word Count: 2400

“Can we eat this in bed?” You jiggle the bowl of steaming pasta as you deliberately shuffle towards the bedroom. Chris looked up through his eyelashes and raised an eyebrow.

“You want our bed to smell like meatballs?”

“But it will just make all of this perfect.” You pointed to the large windows which were dark and splattered with rain just as a flash of lightning lit up the skyline. Dodger whimpered nervously from his bed and gnawed further into the neck of his lion toy. “Dodger can hang out with us, and we can watch TV in bed and be nice and warm. You’d like that, wouldn’t you Dodger?” You cooed and bent down to rub behind the dog’s ears, holding your food high so he couldn’t eat any of it. Dodger stretched and padded to Chris’ feet. Chris looked at you both and smiled with fake reluctance. “Okay, fine. Come on Bubba,” he picked up his bowl and slowly walked towards the door, making sure not to trip over Dodger’s bounding in delight.

“Let’s just both promise we’re not going to spill anything,” Chris said jokingly, widening his eyes in a telling expression.

You rolled your eyes. “It was one hot chocolate.”

“And now there’s a stain that looks like someone pooed on one of the sheets.” Chris took your bowl and motioned his head for you the get into bed first. You turned on the fairy lights and lamps and dived underneath the puffy white duvet, wrapping it around your legs and hips while shifting it, so it was easy for him to get in too. Dodger sat at the end, his tail thwacking the air out of the duvet, eyes wide and staring at the food with longing. “No Bubba,” Chris warned as he gave you back your meal, “this isn’t for you. I’ve saved you some already.”

“You made extra meatballs for the dog?” You shook your head in disbelief. Chris shrugged as if to to say of course I would and then gently pushed Dodgers sniffling nose away. You ate in silence watching the TV, the storm growing louder outside. As stomach full, you sank into the pillows, feeling so comfortable you never wanted to leave. Chris left only once to take the bowls away and bring in cups of coffee, but apart from that, he seemed to sink beside you.

“Is it alright If we turn off the TV?” You asked a little while later, “I’m in the mood to read.”

“Yea, ‘course.” The TV went off, and you leaned over to your bedside table, shuffling further into the pillows as you got yourself comfortable to read. You had only read a few lines when Chris asked what you were reading.

“A room with a view,” you showed him the cover.

“Didn’t you read that at Christmas?”

“Yea, but I was in the mood to reread it. Is that okay?” You jokingly confronted him, leaning closer to him feign intimidation. Chris copied you and gently pushed you on the forehead, so your head moved back. “I never understood the fun about classics.”

“Because they’re amazing stories.”

“You can’t even understand them.”

“Only smart people can.”

“Oh, so are you saying I’m not smart?”

“I don’t see your degree,” you pointed at your framed degree hung proudly by the bookshelf.

“You mean the degree that’s next to my THREE shelves of awards?” Chris smiled cheekily as he pointed at the collection of statues glimmering in the soft light. “I don’t see your shelves there?” He laughed when you smacked him playfully with the book, leaning down to kiss you on the shoulder a couple of times. “We know you’re smarter than me.”

“Thank you.” You moved closer to him, so he stayed propped up near you, breathing steadily as you went back to the story. He kept his head by your shoulder, sighing deliberately, so a gush of breath tickled the loose hairs around your neck. After a few minutes, you instinctively crumpled your ear into your shoulder, whinging at him to stop.

“Sorry, sorry,” but his tone was edged with mirth. You tried to immerse yourself again, although this time Chris was starting to read lines out, intentionally dotting around the page, so your head began to swim.

“…Was she was wrong in this, she asked herself, reviewing her conduct for the past week or two…”

“Chris.”

“…she reflected, feeling rather sinister again, making Minta marry Paul…”

“Please stop.”

“….There was always a woman dying of cancer.” He frowned and shook his head. “This sounds so depressing.” You clapped a hand over his mouth, gritting your teeth as you smiled but muttering threats into his ear as he widened his eyes in phantom shock. “I swear you better shut up I’m trying to read.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Chris mumbled behind your hand.

“Are you going to stop?” You frowned. Chris nodded. Slowly, you pulled your hand away. Chris opened his mouth as if he was going to speak, but with a quick “NO,” he closed it again. He halted for a moment, then spoke again.

“What is it about this book that makes you love it so much?”

“The writing is beautiful,” you sighed with content, “you don’t have to fully understand what E.M Forster’s saying because you FEEL what he’s saying through his words. He can perfectly describe a feeling which I’ve never been able to put into words. Like here,” you rapidly thumbed through the pages, stopping and jabbing at a line underlined in smudged pencil. “For that reason, knowing what was before them – love and ambition and being wretched alone on dreary places – she often had the feeling, why must they grow up and lose it all?” You shook the book in delight, expecting Chris to be just as excited. When he didn’t, your jaw slacked. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

‘If you think it’s wonderful, then it must be,’ Chris shrugged. He pointed at the multitude of lines underlined in silver, gently moving underneath your hands to peer at the next few pages. “Why do you underline so much?”

You bit the side of your cheek in an attempt to not sound embarrassed. “It depends. Sometimes it’s lines that are written really well or things that made me laugh; mostly it’s moments which make me love the book in particular. Like first kisses or when two people are reunited. Like here.’ Flipping the page, you read “‘this is not what we want; there is nothing more tedious, puerile, and inhumane than love; yet it is also beautiful and necessary.’ Forster could’ve just said love is excellent, but this means so much more.”

“Uh, huh.” Chris was pretending to doze off on you, but when you retaliated by starting to shuffle away, he held you back. “Stop moving! you know I like how you pick up on those things.” He held his hand out as an invitation for the book, and when you handed it over, he flipped through the pages, reading the lines you’d memorised for so many years. “Is this how you feel? The way he writes?”

“Maybe not exactly. But I knew exactly what Forster meant by that last line because it made me think of you.” You enjoyed the way Chris’ face softened, the usually prominent bone structure hiding as his cheeks filled with a smile.

“Maybe I should read it sometime if it means this much to you,” he mused, nodding slowly. “Even if it is all about ladies dying with cancer.”

“Please do.” You half rolled over, your eyes drying out as you tried to look pleadingly at him. “I would die if you did that for me. I’ll read your favourite book if that persuades you.” You frowned. “I don’t even know what your favourite book is.”

“Easy,” Chris said “Ferdinand the Bull.”

“That’s a children’s book.”

“So?”

“Well, it’s not exactly emotionally challenging.”

“Hey, I cried at Ferdinand when I was a kid. Mom used to read it to us all the time. Didn’t you have Ferdinand in England?”

“Probably, but my parents didn’t read loads to me.”

“Aw man, you gotta read Ferdinand.” Chris swung out of bed, and half walked half skidded out of the room, Dodger tearing after him in excitement. You heard doors opening, lights being flicked on and bound books being dragged against wooden shelves, and then Chris came back down the corridor, turning to pick up the leg of Dodger’s stuffed lion and pulling both toy and dog back through the door. Dodger easily winning the tug of war sat underneath your vanity, chewing on his prize and Chris climbed back into bed, holding a battered picture book in triumph. It was obviously ancient. The red front cover had faded at the spine and at the edges due to sun exposure and a faint green stain which looked like paint coated the bottom. Chris still held it like it was a photo album and as he opened to the first page, he emitted a small gasp in wonder.

“Oh my God, I haven’t read this in so long! Look, there’s my name.” He pointed at a scribble in the corner of the page, barely eligible. You smiled and nodded, not having the heart to tell him that he could’ve written a swear word and you wouldn’t have been able to tell. “It’s exactly how I remembered it,” Chris spoke fondly, and he adjusted the lamp by his head, so it shone brighter on the pages. “I’ve got to read this to Stella next time I see her,” at the mention of his niece he softened even more, and his expression went slightly gooey.

“You can read it to me if you want,” you offered.

“You sure you don’t wanna keep reading your book?”

“Nah, I want to see what all the hype is about.” You gently closed A Room With A View and tapped on Chris’s arm, to which he lifted it up so you could lie between the pillow and his side. He shifted himself up so he could read and pushed your head to rest on his collarbone. “Can you see the pictures?” He spoke in a mocking baby voice but didn’t start until you’d stop shuffling and were comfy. Then he began to read, soft and slow at first but a couple of pages in he seemed to forget you were there. His voice started to rise and fall and get more expressive as he told the story of the bull who loved to smell flowers, and he laughed at the spindly drawings. You felt your eyes becoming droopy, and you shook your head to stay awake as he started to stroke your arm with the back of his hand, propping the book upon his knee so he could keep turning the pages.

“…And for all, I know he is sitting there still, under his favourite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly.” Chris nodded once in satisfaction, and the story was over. Putting the book on the floor, Chris shifted you slightly to rest back into him, smiling. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it,” you nodded, my head bobbling slightly as it bumped over his collarbone, “I especially loved your animated voice halfway through.”

“Stella insists on giving each person a different voice, even if none of them actually speak. Apparently, it helps her ‘become friends with them.’”

“That’s going to be fun when you start reading her Harry Potter.”

“Eh, it’s good to practise.”

“For what?”

“When I get to read it to my own kids.” He laughed at your widened eyes and lips which had now pouted out in surprised, “are you getting a little emotional thinking about me with children?”

“No,” you lied.

“Sorry, not my kids, OUR kids,” Chris’ eyes twinkled mischievously. You had to turn away then as a wave of motherly instinct you didn’t know was there filled your stomach, and your breath caught momentarily. “With their little curly hair and Boston accents.”

“I’m going to have to sleep after this.”

“And we can read to them loads and eat spaghetti with them…”

“you’re really mean, you know that,” you scowled, but you couldn’t help but see these children, running around in your mind in that teetering away all toddlers do on their chubby legs.

“You know what will be great too?”

“I swear if what you’re about to say is going to taunt me in my dreams-“

“Disney-world trips.”

“For God’s sake, Chris!”

“They’ll be so cute though!”

“Yeah well, now I’m going to dream about that.” You rolled over as if to try and sleep, but Chris rolled with you so now you were spooning, his knuckles continuing to stroke your skin in half soothing, half taunting way. “Our kids will be adorable,” you mumbled as you smiled into your pillow, “and they’ll love Ferdinand.”

“And I hope they see the world like you do,” Chris peppered a couple of kisses behind your ear and down your neck and then turned off the last light, so the room plunged into darkness. Dodger was finally settled and asleep, and there was a moment of creaking as Chris settled back into the spot he was lying in. For a moment, there were only the sounds of breathing, but you were now wide awake. You felt your mind whirring away, and you didn’t know if you wanted to punch the man next to you or kiss him.

“Okay so technically,” you spoke into the dark “we don’t want to have kids for a while.”

“Right.” Chris agreed.

“But there’s nothing wrong with practising.” You felt the arm around you tense suddenly, and his shadow popped up like an excited dog.

“No!” He cleared his throat. “No, there isn’t at all.”

“You said the Disney comment on purpose didn’t you?” You held a finger out as he leaned forward. Chris shrugged unapologetically and grabbed your arm to pull you on top of him, his chest already rising and falling quickly with anticipation.

“I might have done.”

“Ooo, maybe I should go sleep in the spare room then,” you teased and started to wriggle off him, but with a low laugh, Chris’ hand moved from your arm to the back of your legs.

“You’re not going anywhere,” his voice was gravelly as you became lost in each other.

#chris evans x reader #chris evans x #chris evans imagine #Chris Evans #chris #evans #steve rodgers x reader #steve x reader #Steve Rogers #masterlist #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x ofc #fluff #rogers x reader #imagine

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finn-ray-nal-beads · 4 years

Note

Second idea, but feel free to ignore!

Captain Blowhole in action mode, kicking ass and taking names, to res use his favorite philly.

@safarigirlsp I HAVE HAD THIS SITTING IN MY BRAIN FOR EVER AND IM SO SORRY I’M FINALLY ANSWERING THIS NOW, BUT I WANTED TO MAKE IT WORTH THE READING AND ADVENTURE THAT YOU DESIRE BITCH! 🖤

ALLOW ME TO TELL A WHALE OF A TALE MY SWEET SIREN...

He knew he’d fucked up. Knew he shouldn’t have been so greedy with his booty, and his other booty, so to speak. Following the undead buccaneer crew to the depths of the Isla De Muerta, in search of gold and glory, and all for what? For you to be captured by the undead crew? Doomed to be touched by Barbosa himself?

The thought of his skeleton fingers encapsulating your precious throat, nigh, his precious throat, made his stomach churn with anger and remorse.

He stared into the abyss of the fog ridden ocean, squinting as the Black Pearl came into his view. A devilish grin falling over his face as he patted the large chest sitting by the captain’s wheel, the cursed treasure sitting at his waist as he conjured up negotiations for your freedom.

He bit the skin on his nails, thinking of clever ways to bargain with the dead, who were long past their time to be able to touch you, to smell you, to do what they willed. The thoughts of how illy you were being kept rattled around in his head, making him seethe more and more as the black sails grew closer to his vision. The billowing blackness of the clouds surrounding the cursed ship, the holes in the sails, and the undeniable black flag that whistled in the bustling breeze.

His first mate came to his side, patting his shoulder as he tensed from the touch, handing him a flask of rum as he spoke, “do ya think she’s okay?” he questioned, concerned for your welfare as his buddy bit at his stupidity.

“I sure as fuck hope so,” he grunted, swilling a drink of liquid courage, “I’ll kill every motherfucker on there if she isn’t,” exhaling as the warmth coated his throat, wiping the drippage from his beard as he handed the bottle back to Ron.

“She’s probably not too happy with ya right now, Z,” he commented, giggling as he took a swig again, placing a hand on the wheel to aim the ship starboard for the attack.

Flip smirked, huffing a deep laugh as he contemplated the words, “you’re probably right on that account, buddy,” clapping his back as he glanced back down at the stone chest, “but I have ta make it right either damn way,” he growled, placing hands on his hips as he gazed towards Ron.

“Plus,” he placed a hand over his mouth, chuckling at his own dirtiness, “I kinda like it when she’s mad... It... does things to me,” shuttering as he thought of your claws pawing his pristine back muscles, hearing your pained cries underneath him in a round of hate-fucking that was destined to ensue when you both were reunited.

Just then, the anchor lowered, placing the Roger side by side with the Pearl as the canons were shuttered open from both camps.

“Well, well, well,” a booming voice called out, “look who finally decided to show up, gentleman?” a chorus of laughter coming from the black shrouds on the enemy side.

“We don’t want this to be a fight, Barbosa,” Flip shouted back, his voice looming over the waves and the wind as he noticed the captain come into view, “I brought a trade opportunity for you, in fact,” leaning on the case like a sleazy salesman.

“A trade you say?” the dirty seaman rubbed his festering beard, yellowed eyes boring in Flip’s direction, “a trade for what, blowhole?!” bellows of heavy chuckles ringing out again at his insult, causing Flip to roll his eyes, wishing he was blowing his hole in your cunt instead of negotiating with the dead.

“You know exactly what I want, Hector,” the shocking reveal of his first name sending the enemy captain in a furied frenzy, “show her to me you snake!” Flip growled over the tidal waves brewing around the vessels.

Barbosa bored his jaundiced eyes towards Flip, the two of them not even stopping to blink as he watched him mull over the command, “show her, and I’ll give you the one thing you want most in this world,” he taunted again, the words stinging the old captain’s face as he heard every pronounced word.

After a few moments, he indulged his curiosities, “bring the slut,” he chanted to his mate, who nodded and promptly went to fetch you.

Flip grimaced at the slur, his fists balling at his sides as he tried to compose himself. ‘take some deep breaths buddy,’ he chanted in the recesses of his mind, ‘she’ll be back with you in no time, maybe,’ exhaling at the notion.

The crewman produced your writhing form from the gallows below, your hair in complete chaos, stripped down to your skivvies as you gnashed at the whistles and howls from the enemy crew taking you in.

“Get the fuck off of me you bastards!” screaming at the top of your lungs, your body freezing as the cool air hit your undergarments.

“Now, now, lil’ lady,” Barbosa gripped you in his crusty hands, pushing you to be shown to your lover, “you need to play nice in this negotiation, pet,” running greasy fingers through your tattered hair, the feeling making your face contort in disgust as you shut your eyes.

“I’m not a prize to be negotiated,” spitting on his buckled boots as you were slapped across the face by his first mate.

“You will behave, whore!” he shouted, you hissing from the pain of the blow as your feral form looked over to finally lock eyes with your sailor.

“Flip!” you yelled, “Flip you fucking jackass!” a combination of angry and relieved as you were forced to your knees on the deck of the ship.

“As you were saying,” Barbosa continued, his crewman wrapping a gag around your mouth as you groaned and bit at him, “produce your trade, captain,” he taunted, curious what could be more important than a lowly whore.

Flip snarled as he watched you be treated like an animal, the blood boiling in his veins as he backed to produce the chest, “Here, is my trade,” he pronounced, the stone top hitting the wooden deck in a thud.

A hush grew over the crowd of scalawags, bugged eyes gazing at the Aztec gold as is shimmered in the sunlight. Flip’s cheeky grin appeared as he saw the captain squirm under his prize he’d thought he’d had over him, crossing his muscled arms over his chest as he waited for Barbosa to reply.

“Name yer terms, Zimmerman,” he snarled quizzically towards the handsome sailor, placing an iron grip on the top of your head as you panted below him staring into the eyes of your lover.

“You give me, Y/N,” he cocked his head, deep voice radiating your name like a siren song, the wetness forming in your britches as you angrily writhed again, wanting to choke the life out of every sailor on the Seven Seas including blowhole.

“And?” the scheming captain pandered, gesturing for the rest of his demands.

“And,” looking you dead in the eyes as he retorted back with sarcasm, “I’ll give you the answer to your problems, Hector,” smiling as he tipped his cap towards him, “I know you crave to... feel again,” the final nail in the negotiations pinned as he waited on baited breath, canons at the ready in case of a mutiny.

“Well,” the captain contemplated again, ripping your face to meet his as his ratty finger stroked your pristine cheek “let’s get this goin’ then shall we lass?” chuckling as he lifted your weight to his eye level.

Flip watched as he drug your body towards the end of the ship, eyeballing his crew as they readied for any kind of foul play.

“You want her so badly, captain?” he mewled at him, “then go fetch your whore!” flipping your ass off the end of the ship to sink you in the depths of the black ocean, a series of screams echoing coupled with a splash as you fell.

“Mother fucker!” Flip yelled out, ridding himself of his cap and jacket, to bound over the edge of his ship, a chorus of yells erupting on both sides as canons began to flare in an all out brawl.

He penetrated the cold water, hair erupting around him as he sought out your figure flailing in the ocean, hands tied around your back as you struggled to meet the surface for oxygen.

He stroked over to you, a frenzy of waves crashing overhead as he gripped your waist to pull you to the surface. A huge gasp leaving your lungs as you felt the cool breeze on your wet face.

“I’ve got ya, darlin’,” he panted, pulling himself and you towards the Roger as gunfire clouded the ships, “I’ve got ya,” using his brute strength as you helplessly floated with him.

He pulled you to the back of the ship, shoving you in a porthole before he climbed in as well, the thud of your body causing him to chuckle slightly as he remembered your restraints.

As soon as he climbed in he was met with a slap on the face, the strength of it knocking him back to the wall of his ship. Your raging fists in front of your face as you’d escaped your ropes.

“You lying,” stumbling over him, fists balled up in a fury, “cheating,” gritting your teeth, “sleazy, son of a bitch, pirate asshole, motherfucker!” screaming as another hard punch landed on his prominent nose.

“Jesus fuckin’,” he groaned, the blow causing his nose to bleed as he shook himself back to reality, your angry apparition clouding his vision.

“I-I’m sorry darlin’,” putting his hands in retreat as you had hauled a piece of wood to beat him with, “I-I’m so fuckin’ sorry!” cowering slightly to prepare for an ass beating he so rightfully deserved.

“You’re not fuckin’ sorry at all you asshole,” heavy sobs leaving your lungs as you watched him get up, the faint sounds of shotguns blaring amongst the waves, “If you were sorry you wouldn’t have left me to die on that goddamn island you cowardly shit!” heaves coming out from you as you fell to your knees, cowering in the reality that he was using you for his own trade deals.

“I-I you’re right,” he stammered, watching as you wailed from the drama over the last few days of your capture, “I-I’m such a shit,” he agreed, trying to inch closer to comfort you, only to have you pummel his kneecaps in revolt.

“Don’t,” you looked up, seeing red, “don’t you fucking touch me, Phil!” releasing a breath as you gathered your thoughts again.

“In fact, why don’t you go save your precious crew while I stay down here and think about all the things I’m gonna do to you later you fucking dick!” shooing him away with cat scratches as he stumbled up towards the fighting.

“I’ll be back, my sweet siren,” trying to signal his apology, his amber eyes boring into yours as he looked for any sign of forgiveness, “and you can do whatever you see fit to me,” bowing as he smirked, running his ass up to fight the good fight as you rolled your eyes, thinking of ideas to pummel his ass later on.

I HOPE THIS WAS CHEEKY ENOUGH FOR YOU! BLOWHOLE IS NEAR AND DEAR TO MY HEART AND HE’S SUCH A DICK HE DESERVES A RIGHT BEATING FROM US FOR SURE! 😂

oneshot taglist: @maybe-your-left, @safarigirlsp, @clydesfavoritegirl, @emeraldsiren20, @thepalaceofmelanie, @bpdbensoloblog, @hopeamarsu, @caillea

#flip zimmerman request #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman #flip x you #flip x reader #pirate!flip #flip zimmerman imagine #yes i alluded to pirates of the caribbean and im not sorry #i fucking love this au im so deep in it now

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iwrestlenow · 4 years

Text

Many More To Die, Chapter 7

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 7)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: The secret history of Logan and Roman begins to come to light while little pieces of Roman's world start to fall apart around him, resulting in a late night confrontation that exposes Roman's role in reuniting Virgil with his big brother.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and future Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: MORE CHAPTERS INCOMING, ‘cause this was getting super bloated. IDK, I just have a lot of feelings, and I’m rushing ‘cause I want the boys to kiss and be happy so I can start my series of smutty one-shots...I mean, what? >.> <.< XD

Also, no betas, we die like men.

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

1020, A.A.

“Hold on...just hold on...”

It took all his effort to stay calm, keeping the rhythm of his compressions steady the way Remus taught him. It was different, watching his twin tap-tap-tap the chest of a tiny kitten and blowing a careful stream of air into its snout—this was a boy, an entire person and his skin was pale as marble, lips tinged the blue of Father's lapis ring...

The body under his hands spasmed, a gush of water suddenly erupting from his mouth. Thinking as quickly as he could, Roman tipped the boy's head to the side so he could spit the water on the grass beside the river that ran behind the palace, and not swallow it back into his lungs—but you couldn't swallow things into your lungs, could you? Was it wrong? Was he doing this wrong?

...pulse. He should feel for a pulse, right? That's what Remus said...

Roman pressed fingers to the boy's throat, sagging when he felt the rapid flutter of a heartbeat there...at least until the boy twisted away and scrambled back, still hacking and shaking from the chill air and his sodden clothing.

Blue eyes met green, and eleven year old Prince Roman Sanders was struck breathless by the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his short life.

“Careful—it's all right, I won't hurt you.” he soothed, raising his hands and remaining on his knees. “I just want to make sure you're okay.”

The other boy blinked, water dripping off clumped eyelashes like diamonds falling to roll down his wet cheeks. He had jet black hair, plastered to his head, and even with his heart beating again, his skin was still so pale. His eyes sparkled like the river water itself, clear and bright and so blue it almost hurt to look at them.

“I...was dead.” the other boy hiccuped, bringing a hand to his chest as his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I...well, yeah. I mean, your heart wasn't beating, so I used the vital breath to make it start again. My brother taught me.”

The boy blinked, his thin but well formed lips drawing into a curious pout that made him flinch, made him reach up and touch his lower lip—sporting a shallow cut that matched one on Roman's, where he'd been a little too forceful pressing his mouth to the boy's so he could force air into his lungs.

“You...you brought me back from the dead.”

Roman blinked—but when he said it like that, he supposed that he had. Wow.

“I didn't use magic.” he said instead of...literally anything else. “I swear it.”

“On the Spider's Thread?”

“What's that?”

“The bond that unites souls.” the boy explained. “It's the most sacred oath in the world, 'cause if you break it the Fates will tear you from the Living Tapestry.”

“What's the Living Tapestry?” Roman asked, shifting to edge closer to the boy.

“The world.” he replied through chattering teeth. “And all the people in it...and you stopped them. You stopped Fate.”

“But—I didn't use magic. I didn't...really stop Fate, I...I just...you were floating in the river, and—I had to try.” Roman explained, feeling strange with all this talk of bonded souls and raising the dead, and how pretty the boy was.

“Is...is that okay?”

The boy watched him with a look Roman couldn't make heads or tails of...but after a moment he nodded.

“It's okay.” he assured him, shifting onto his knees slowly.

“Good.” Roman replied, then winced a little when the clickclickclickclick of the boy's chattering teeth became audible.

“You're so cold—you'll catch your death without some dry clothes.” He looked down at himself—equally wet from diving into the river to pull the boy out. “I could bring you back to the palace to dry off and--”

“I can't go there.”

Roman flinched at the forceful way he said it, harsh and tinged with fear. He didn't need to be his brother to connect the dots.

The boy knew a lot about death magic, and he was afraid of the palace. He was Necromata...but he was small and beautiful and shivering, and he wasn't sure anyone so awestruck by the vital breath, of all things, could be as evil as he'd been raised to believe.

Could they?

Roman thought for a moment, then struggled to his feet and started pulling off his tailored white tunic, leaving him in a simple black cotton undershirt.

“What--”

“I'm going to walk you home.” Roman insisted. “You're in no shape to be by yourself—and if I'm dressed like a citizen, no one will recognize me as a prince! You'll be safe.”

The boy watched him as he finished stripping off anything that would mark him as nobility, even discarding his boots so he was walking barefoot. When he was done, the boy was still kneeling on the ground, just...staring at him.

“What?”

“You said 'citizen.' Not 'commoner.'”

Roman made a face. “I don't like the word. I don't think people are common—I like to watch the roads from my bedroom window and imagine all the stories that the people who travel them have to tell. Common people are boring, and how can anyone with so many stories be boring?”

The boy hesitated, but finally started to get to his feet.

“Thank you...apologies. I don't know which prince you are.”

“Roman. I'm Prince Roman.” he offered, extending his hand to the boy to help him up. “And I swear—by the Spider's Thread—that I will see you home safe.”

Regarding the hand thoughtfully, the boy reached up to take it.

“Salutations, Your Highness. I am Logan Crofter.”

Their fingers touched—and Roman's heart froze when the other boy screamed.

********** 1033, A.A.

“At the end of the day, Your Majesty, the truth will come out: you're not merely a pawn of the necromancer. You're in league with him—and the Sanders line will fall from power. After all, twins don't long survive the death of their other half—or so the stories say.”

The words were going to haunt Roman long past the resurrection of his father—then again, so was the broken hand that still throbbed where he'd punched the court mage in a fit of blind fury.

“Roman!”

He stopped in his tracks, finally allowing himself to take stock of his surroundings: he was storming down the corridor that would lead to the north wing, where Patton and Logan were being kept. Head still spinning with the angry shouts and protests of both royal advisors and soldiers loyal to Colonel Mori, he'd fled the crowded throne room after breaking the mage's jaw with only the sound of his brother's cackling to comfort him.

Without his permission, his feet were trying to carry him towards the necromancer—towards Logan.

The one who was depending on him. The one who was helping him...the one...

Footsteps pounded behind him. His eternal, steady awareness of his own twin was all that kept Roman from being startled by the hand that grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

“Roman.”

Remus stood there in front of him, hands on his shoulders, wearing an uncharacteristically sober expression. For one moment, in his mind's eye he saw Logan and Virgil, somewhere in the palace, having a similar encounter—the image had clung to the back of his thoughts since a discreet intrusion from Remy let him know that Logan was okay, his hope for both of them a fantasy he couldn't stop himself from willing into reality.

Logan had his brother back. Virgil had his...the notion of it made Roman ache, brought him dangerously close to thinking about things he couldn't entertain. Not a hint, not even a memory.

Hold on.

Do not let go.

I never have...I never will.

Roman was clutching at Remus's hands on his shoulders before he could stop himself, staring down his twin. For a second, Remus's eyes widened and his gaze grew distant—looked at him like he wasn't there, didn't seem to see him through whatever wheels were turning in his head...

Then the wall came down, his hands slid away from Roman's...his arms opened, and Roman collapsed into them. He felt the tears fall, then stream, then shook with sobs torn from his marrow. The dangerous memories fell away, replaced instead by the chill of the king's lifeless body, the stillness in Roman's arms, the stiffness of rigor setting in as he held him close before the guards forced him back into the castle.

His father was dead.

Father was dead.

In the heart of the palace, Roman came apart, and Remus gently put him back together with strong arms, soft words, and shared pain.

********** 1021, A.A.

“You're sure this is all right?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because I wish it.”

The pair were walking by the river, Logan's request. He wouldn't tell Roman anything more than that he had to do something as part of his training, and that he wanted Roman's help. Logan's Grandpap didn't know he was doing it, Roman lied about being sick to get out of his lessons and sneak out for the afternoon...

It was confusing as hell, and Roman would be a lot more afraid of the chances he was taking if it were anyone but Logan asking him to do this.

“But what if your Grandpap finds out about...whatever we're doing, and you get in trouble?” Roman protested.

“Then he can...”

Logan trailed off and stopped walking with a frown before fumbling with uncharacteristic clumsiness to reach into his pocket for the vocabulary cards that had been a staple since Roman started teaching him outsider slang. The clumsiness came from reaching into his right pocket with his left hand—because his right hand was busy being firmly enmeshed with Roman's.

“...'deal.'” Logan finished once he'd pulled the cards out and read the top one. Glancing up to meet Roman's gaze, he offered him the small, triumphant smirk that anyone else might read as arrogant confidence. Roman knew it was all Logan allowed himself in moments of triumph—pride in the hard-won victories.

“You've been studying.” Roman observed, doing a miserable job of hiding a smile.

Logan stopped in his tracks, released Roman's hand, and shuffled through the vocabulary cards for another one, speaking as he displayed it for Roman's evaluation.

“'Duh.'”

Roman dissolved into giggling, and on impulse reached out, pulling Logan into a hug. The ten year old boy immediately tensed, breath stilling at the unexpected embrace.

Roman didn't let go, but he did loosen his arms for Logan's benefit. He waited to see if he'd bolt or...

Roman watched the vocabulary card flutter to the ground as Logan let them go, and very deliberately wrapped his arms around Roman's waist, laying his cheek against Roman's shoulder. He was still tense, but held on.

“Too much?” Roman asked softly.

“Yes.” Logan replied.

“Hurts?”

“Yes.”

“Should I stop?”

“...no. I...”

“Breathe, Logan. Remus says it's important to breathe—and important to take it slow 'cause you're touch starved.” Roman reminded him. “I'm sorry I didn't ask first, but I really don't want to hurt you. I'll let go if you ask me to.”

“I know, just...”

“What is it, Logan?”

“...more.”

The way his voice fractured and his arms reflexively tightened broke something inside of Roman as he did as he was asked: held tighter, pressed his face to Logan's hair, stood still and gave hugging his best friend his whole attention.

That was the moment Logan let out a shaky sigh and sagged in Roman's arms. He didn't know what it was, but he had to be thinking about touching Logan for it to stop hurting. Sometimes it was still too warm and too overwhelming, but it didn't seem to hurt him as bad when he was just standing there, willing his whole attention into Logan.

“...it's the Warping.”

Roman frowned a little, lifting his head just enough to rest his cheek against Logan's hair instead of his whole face. “What?”

“The Warping.” Logan repeated quietly, his breath puffing warm against Roman's neck. “I must commune with the dead as part of my training. The fiber strung onto the loom for weaving is called the warp, while the fiber that is strung across this is called the weft. The Warping is preparing myself to learn how to find the Loom of Memory—a state of consciousness where I can work my power properly.”

Roman nodded against Logan's head. “What do I need to do?”

“Just be with me...technically, I am supposed to do it alone, but I researched the ritual, and it is believed that, in the Old Times, a Weaver could bring their Animata to the Warping.”

“But I'm not an Animata.”

“No, but the Animata's defining characteristic was that they were twin souls—and you are a twin. I believe your presence will be acceptable.” Logan replied. “I...am supposed to acclimate myself to the emotions of the dead. It's not really my strongest area—feelings—and...”

Logan didn't finish. Just held on, tensing a little, then relaxing—leaning into Roman's embrace.

“You're afraid.” Roman finished for him softly.

“Fear is an emotion. I feel nothing.” Logan insisted petulantly—and it was petulant with the way he huffed soft against Roman's neck. “Necromancers have no souls with which to feel.”

“So you keep saying.”

“It's true.”

Silence fell again.

“...if I had a soul, however...I would entrust it to you.”

Roman felt something in his stomach tremble at that, soft and shivery and bright.

“Swear it on the Spider's Thread?” he asked softly.

Logan didn't answer right away—as he did with things he was never terribly sure of.

“Grandpap says that the Spider's Thread is woven by Fate, not by magic.” he replied instead of a real answer.

Roman fell silent at that, just holding onto Logan and trying to ignore the way that having Logan close like this, pledging him his non-existent soul, quiet breaths on his neck and head on his shoulder made his chest warm, made his heart do pleasant, squirmy things in his chest.

“Do...you believe in Fate, Logan?” he asked softly, not sure why he suddenly felt like holding his breath. Fortunately, he didn't have to.

Like most things Logan knew—which was almost everything—he answered immediately.

“I have since I met you.”

********** 1033, A.A.

Roman couldn't sleep that night—which was a good thing, seeing as how his room was invaded at three AM.

It happened silently, but he was emotionally raw and vaguely paranoid after what had happened to his father, after the threats made against him and all he cared for by the members of his own guard, his own court—or, perhaps, he just felt Logan's magic still teeming in his veins, keeping his heart beating and his lungs full of air. Maybe the nearness of him set something off, magic calling to magic.

One moment, the dark was empty and gaping like the hole in his chest that lingered ever since his breakdown in the halls with Remus, and the next it opened wider before filling with a presence that teased him with both the promise of danger and comfort.

When the blade touched his throat, he already had his hand under the pillow.

“Virgil, don't.”

Roman expected Logan's voice—he did not, however, expect that Logan had company.

Snapping his fingers to call to life the luminaries in his room, Roman sat up and pulled his hand out from under his pillow, a dagger in his hand and pressed to the hollow of the cadet's throat. Virgil hissed—actually hissed out loud—and backpedaled, his own dagger dragging a thin line against the side of Roman's throat.

“OW! You venomous little shit!” he spat, touching his bleeding neck as he blinked against the onslaught of light.

His hand was jerked away, and cool fingers probed his throat with deft, clinical precision. Abruptly, his head grew foggy with something akin to sleep, but cold and light...Logan's magic working, taking control of him again.

“Relax—I'm not taking your mind, I'm healing you.”

“You're what?! Logan, you're a Weaver! You can't heal!”

Roman had to work at it a little, but his free hand lifted to rub his eyes. When he let it fall again, he had Logan sitting on the edge of his bed, hand pressed to his chest just below his collarbone, eyes lit up with that dazzling blue-white, misty light again.

“Apparently, I can when I'm animating someone.” Logan pointed out, lifting his hand and running it along Roman's throat. The touch, with Logan so close, raised gooseflesh on his skin—and there was a lot of it, given Roman slept only in loose trousers and nothing else.

Virgil leaned in as he sheathed his dagger, his eyes going wide. “Ohhhhhh, shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit...”

Roman reached up, following the trail Logan's palm had taken—and found no trace of the wound. Not even a scar remained.

What troubled him was that Virgil was right. It wasn't something Roman was allowed to know, something he couldn't glean from the things he read in secret or the tidbits Remus shared from his Anima lovers...and he couldn't communicate how he knew.

Logan looked at Virgil pointedly over his shoulder, then turned back to Roman when his brother fell silent again.

“I apologize for the unexpected arrival, but Virgil insisted on secrecy once he realized he'd been exposed.”

“E-exposed?” Roman stammered, his head still spinning with surprise, the lingering effects of Logan's power, and very genuine confusion. “I don't understand.”

“Yeah, you do.” Virgil snapped, folding his arms. “You knew who I was before Master Picani felt my connection to Logan and outed me in the war room. That's how I got in, and with a shard of Necromatic magic hidden in a healing object, no less.”

Roman felt his blood run cold, and in a manner that was anything but light or misty like Logan's magic.

“Don't deny it: I asked around after Logan got back to Patton this evening. You personally cleared me when I applied to join the guard. Pair that with the fact that Logan remembers the night he was arrested? And you're lucky he stopped me from killing you.”

The world stopped turning in that instant. Everything came to a halt, from the spinning of the earth to the beating of his heart as he met Logan's eyes—those crystal blue depths that he barely kept at bay, the swirling tempest that he restrained for ten years...

Roman balled his hands into fists and tried to remember how to breathe again around the nameless emotion trying to claw its way out of his heart.

“You...remember me, Logan?”

Logan just stared at him, features inscrutable. His brow furrowed, his lips pursed—he was thinking, he was...uncertain.

“I was half conscious in the war room.” he finally replied. “The Spider's Thread—Virgil told me what that oath references. I...I don't remember you, but I feel certain you swore that oath for a reason.”

The nameless feeling in his heart grew claws, ripped and tore and drew blood.

“I did.”

“...how long have we known each other?”

“Ten years. Since the night we met in the dungeon.”

“And in total?”

Roman shut his eyes, bowing his head to avoid that look, those eyes that would unmake him.

“...thirteen. We've known each other for thirteen years.”

#necromancer au #sanders sides #fanfic #ts logan #ts roman #ts virgil #ts remus #logince #this is all the artist's fault i'm just a hapless writer that stumbled across it #my name is liz and i swear to god i will fic again #logan sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders

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lover-of-skellies · 4 years

Note

19 and 20, with Blue and Shattered? :0

This ended up being more angsty than scary, but eh. It's written to be a continuation of this prompt I wrote before with them. A part two, of sorts

*cackles* I hope you enjoy it, dear anon~

"Why must you continue disappointing me this way, Blue?"

Blueberry flinched at the harshness of the guardians' words, not looking up at what was once his friend, "I... I'm not trying to disappoint you, Dream. I just... I can't..." Dream sighed, his tentacles idly swaying and writhing behind him, "You can't what, Blue? Quit wasting my time and spit it out already." The smaller of the two frowned, frowning as he finally lifted his gaze to look at Dream, "I... We're supposed to help protect the multiverse. What you want is to destroy it. To take innocent lives and hurt those that don't deserve to suffer anymore. You want everyone to be miserable like you, and that's not fair. I can't be a part of that because I'm not like you."

A tentacle shot between the bars of Blue's cell without warning, wrapping around his neck vertebrae and lifting him up off the ground. Blue immediately began to struggle, desperately grasping at the tendril and attempting to loosen it, all while Dream glared at him, his words bitter and cold, "And just what does that mean? Since when did you actually know anything about me, Blue?" Still frantically trying to free himself of the others grasp, Blue whimpered, "It means that I don't wanna be like you, Dream. You can't make me change my mind. You can keep hurting me, you can harvest emotions from me, and you can abandon me whenever you want, but I'll never do something as horrible as what you wanna do. I'm a hero, not a coward."

The guardian of positivity felt one of his sockets twitch in irritation, and a twisted grin slowly stretched across his face as he tilted his head, "You know... I think there's a phrase the humans are fond of. What was it... 'takes one to know one'? I guess if I'm a coward, so are you. Whatever though, I can't be bothered by your petty insults. I have a deal for you though, that could potentially benefit both of us." Blueberry's voice came out softer than intended as he mumbled, "...What is it?" Dream arched a single brow bone, his tentacle lowering the other skeleton to the ground and releasing him as he hummed, "Well, you're from UnderSwap. You love your AU, and you love your Papyrus. If you accept one of my fruits, it'll make you stronger. You'll be able to protect what you love much more efficiently, with much less effort. If you choose to deny me again, however... well, I'll be bringing back your brothers hoodie, covered in his dust."

Blue's sockets widened and he stared at Dream in shock, "You wouldn't..." Dream's grin shifted into a mischievous smirk, "Oh believe me, Blue, I would. I'd enjoy it very much, in full honesty." Cyan tinted tears began to prink at Blue's sockets and he rushed forward, gripping the bars of his cell as he pleaded with the guardian, "Please don't hurt him, Dream. I'll... I'll try to figure something out with you, as long as you don't hurt Papyrus."

Dream made a soft sound of acknowledgement, "You have a choice to make, Blue. Either sit here and die alone, knowing it's your fault that your brother's dead, or," he paused, slipping his hand into a pouch and withdrawing a black fruit, offering it to the smaller of the two, "you can eat this, and be strong enough to protect him. It's your choice, and you need to make it soon because I'm running out of patience." Blueberry stared at the black fruit, his sockets wide with fear as a single tear rolled down his face. Papyrus would die if he didn't take it, but also... he knew that once he ate it, he'd never be the same again. With shakey hands, he reached out, more tears beginning to drip down his cheekbones as he very delicately took the fruit from Dream, his voice cracking, "T-The fruit... what'll it do to me, Dream? Please be honest, don't withhold anything from me."

The goop covered guardian shrugged, "It takes a not-so-nice trait of whoever eats it, and then amplifies and warps it. It eventually becomes warped enough to manifest in whatever way it deems fit. I wasn't lying when I said it'd make you stronger though. Sure, you may lose a sense of self, but you won't have to worry about anything ever again." Blue nervously gulped, hesitantly lifting his gaze to meet Dream's, "...So it'll take one of my bad traits and make it a lot worse, is what you're telling me?" The guardian made a noise of indifference, "Essentially, yes." Blue's eye lights constricted into the smallest of pin pricks, his voice a whisper, "If that's the case... I don't think you want me to eat this." Dream blinked, confusion briefly flickering in his one visible golden iris. The way Blue had said that... Was that supposed to be a threat?

His confusion rapidly faded, shifting into a scowl as he growled in annoyance, "Just eat the damn fruit already and stop testing me, Blue. We don't have all day to do this, you know." Blueberry whined, a fresh batch of cyan tears wetting his cheekbones as he shook his head, "Dream, please. I don't wanna hurt you." The shattered guardian snorted in amusement, leaning against the bars of the cell, his expression manic as he began to laugh, "Oh, you think you could hurt me, do you? Hurt me then, I'd love to see you try!" Blue began to slowly raise the fruit to his face, watching Dream with an expression of both fear and sorrow, "Dream, you don't want me to do this, trust me. I really shouldn't-" Dream scoffed, waving off the other's words with a single tentacle, "Eat the fruit or your brother dies. The choice is yours." Blueberry's eye lights briefly went out and he let out a deep sigh, "Fine... but don't say I didn't warn you."

Dream offered him a smug smirk, carelessly shrugging his shoulders, "I don't care. Just put the fruit in your mouth before I do it for you." Blue sunk his teeth into the onyx fruit. It's flavor very vaguely reminded him of an apple, though there was something else mixed in... something that was bitter and disruptive. Almost instantly, he felt its effects beginning to work, and he pressed his free hand over his mouth, suddenly feeling sick as he croaked, "I can't... Dream. No more." The guardian grinned maliciously, his golden iris flickering in excitement, "Nope. Eat the whole thing, or the deal is off and Papyrus dies." Blue swallowed back some of the increasing nausea he felt, forcing himself to take a very small second bite. His thoughts began to race and his soul thudded within his ribs. Whose thoughts were those? They couldn't be his. There was no way. Dream was going to hurt HIS Papyrus? Blue couldn't... he began to choke, dropping the fruit and very slowly stood up, his body trembling.

There was no way in hell he was going to let anyone hurt his dear brother. He already knew he'd do whatever it took to keep Papyrus safe.

Before Dream could fully comprehend what he was witnessing, Blue's small body had zipped to another part of the cell, the heel of his boot striking one of the bars and snapping it out of place with ease. As he shifted his empy, souless stare back to the guardian, Dream arched a brow bone, "Let me guess. It's already in effect, isn't it?" Blue didn't respond, bending down to pick up the broken piece of bar that laid on the ground. He eyed the item in silence before his left socket flared up with cyan magic. He raised an arm, directing his magic at Dream, and to Dream's shock, the last golden apple that was his soul appeared in front of him, surrounded by the others magic. His body was abruptly pulled forward, slamming him into the bars of the cell. He lashed out with a tentacle, fully intending to strike Blue dead right where he stood.

But he missed.

Once again, Blue's small body zipped toward him at what could've been considered a record speed. Dream glared, narrowing his sockets as he roared, now visibly enraged, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? I OFFER TO HELP YOU AND THIS IS HOW YOU RESPOND? WHAT KIND OF PRIVILEGED MORON ARE YOU?" Blueberry's expression shifted, a twisted smile stretching across his face as he hissed, "Oh, so I'M the privileged moron? At least I didn't ignore and abandon my brother when he needed me the most."

Dream opened his mouth, fully prepared to fire back, but he was cut off, his single visible socket widening. There was a loud crack, followed by what felt like eternal silence.

Looking down at the bar that had been roughly plunged not just through his sternum and ribs, but also through his very soul, he felt his body begin to weaken, a golden tear running down his cheek. Staring at him coldly, Blueberry released the bar, his voice unnaturally flat and void of emotion, "And that's why you don't threaten Papyrus. I warned you not to make me eat that fruit, but you did. This is your fault, you know." Dream coughed, his tentacles going limp and slowly beginning dissipate as he whispered, "Blue, please. 'M sorry... tell Night that... I'm sorry I wasn't... a better brother."

Through his clouded and frenzied mind, Blue registered Dream's words, offering him an almost sickly sweet smile, "Nah... I don't think I will. Once I'm out of here, he'll be joining you very soon. You should be thanking me, Dream. After all this time, you'll finally be reunited with him, and it'll be because of me."

#anon #asks #oops #i wrote angst instead of horror #wtf #h ow #shattered dream #blueberry sans #swap sans #underswap sans #yandere!blueberry #yanberry #writing

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Text

A Yandere!Atsushi/Reader piece for the lovely @ramannnn, featuring our favorite were-tiger in all his clingy, emotionally confused glory. I get to work with him so rarely, it’s nice to just sit back and see how many times I can make him cry.

Word Count: 3.0k

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Toxic Mindsets, Non-Graphic Violence and Mentions of Cheating.

He should’ve known it would come to this.

Atsushi wasn’t a man of courage. Of faith, maybe, of blind hope and trust and irrational commitment to well-dressed father figures, but he’d never considered himself to be especially brave. It was different when he was with the Agency, when he felt like he had a purpose and an assignment and a goal to carry out or die attempting to see through, but he wasn’t in the agency, now, and you weren’t something he could punch a solution out of.

Or, you were something he shouldn’t punch a solution out of. Atsushi knew people didn’t usually punch their girlfriends. He probably wasn’t supposed to.

Either way, Atsushi sunk down in his seat, the cold leather pressing soothingly against his back as he willed himself to melt into it. You were sitting across from him, one arm resting against the thick, mirrored window, both hands occupying themselves with tearing open one-too-many sugar packets for a single cup of coffee. He was sure you were talking, but he couldn’t bring himself to listen, sinking further into his metal safe-haven every time the sound of your voice reached his ears. This wasn’t anything new, you visited during Atsushi’s breaks all the time… well, you hadn’t been visiting all the time, actually, that was the problem. The week was almost over, and you’d only made one or two impulsive stops in, a meek, worrying number compared to your usual four or five.

Maybe he could’ve ignored it, if it was just that. You two had been inseparable from the moment you found him in Yokohama. It was something out of a drama’s plot, really. Friends reunited at long last, distanced from the miserable, awful people who separated them and free to pursue a relationship deeper than whatever fleeting bond they were able to form in an orphanage so determined to keep them apart. He guessed the charm must’ve faded for you, though. The longer you spent together, the more time you seemed to want to spend apart, your dates often pushed back for a last-minute ‘emergency’ and your impulsive visits quickly becoming sparser and sparser, even if your demeanor never seemed to change.

It was worrying. He was worried. Should he say something now? Choke it down and put it out of his mind? Beat you to death and see if what’s left is anymore cooperative--

Something warm and soft brushed against his wrist, drawing Atsushi out of his thoughts just as your hands closed around his, cupping the lean appendage affectionately. He opened his mouth, letting something incoherent and nonsensical fall out, but luckily, you took up the mantle, continuing the one-sided conversation you’d been having for the past few minutes. “Everything alright, baby?” You asked, with just the right tone and inflection you knew would make him a blushing wreck. It took more self-control than it should’ve to keep himself from flinching away and reviving his efforts to hide within the loving arms of the cafe’s furniture. “You’ve been quiet all day,” You explained, gesture vaguely to the surrounding booths and lingering baristas. “It’s like I’m talking to a brick wall. I’m pretty sure the waitresses are starting to think I’ve bored the life out of my boyfriend, again.”

He gave a half-hearted chuckle, a mix of admissions, confessions, and accusations playing over in his mind. Would you catch on if he stayed quiet? Did he want you to catch on? That had to be easier than stepping around the topic. For Atsushi, at least. “The Agency’s just been busy, lately,” He settled, still finalizing the excuse as it slipped out. “It’s hard to think about anything besides case files and time-lines, right now.”

Your smile brightened as soon as he finished. You leaned in, glancing to your side conspiratorially, your volume noticeable dipping as you spoke. As if you were trying to coax a secret out of him, one he should be attempting to pull from you. “Another stake-out? Who’re the big, mean bad guys you have to catch this time? Or, is it going to be another one of those world-ending, fire and brimstone apocalypses, like last month?” You paused, but you didn’t give him time to interrupt, only thinking for a moment before you went on. “Is there any chance you’re going to drag yourself to my doorstep in the middle of the night, bloody and battered, and I’ll have to be the one to nurse you back to health because you don’t know who you can trust, anymore? I’m not saying I’m against the idea, but--”

“We’re not doing that again. Your neighbors almost called the police, last time.” His tone was more genuine than it was jovial, but you still brightened, your laugh hardly stifled by the fingers quickly barred over your lips. You squeezed his hand gently before pulling away, leaving Atsushi flustered and wondering how hard it would really be to bridge the gap. You were in good spirits, and that was a good sign, wasn’t it? You were happy to be with him, even in his worse moods.

That, or it meant something else was making you happy. Something that wasn’t Atsushi.

The thought killed his hope before it could begin to rise.

“So it’s not world-ending, then,” You confirmed, content with your deduction. You took a sip of your drink, casually, your demeanor overflowing with faux-professionalism. “Good, good. I mean, I’d hate to have my building demolished right after--”

“(Y/n)!”

The voice grated against Atsushi’s senses, unknown and jarring, cutting you off too abruptly, too suddenly. He stiffened, snapping in the direction of the intruder, but recognition washed over you, a small stream of muttered curses falling from your tongue as you ducked into the booth, trying to make yourself seem smaller before pursing your lips and forcing a smile, turning towards your acquaintance as Atsushi did the same. It was a man, unnoticeable and unremarkable by all accounts, but Atsushi still grit his teeth, squaring his shoulders as he moved to push himself up. Something deep and dark and burning flared inside his chest, possessive and territorial, and without thinking, he started towards the man, claws already beginning to prod at the skin between his knuckles. You caught him before his rage could manifest, though, grabbing his forearm and tugging him into your side of the booth, leaning over his lap briefly as you waved to the stranger, signaling you’d be over in a minute. He seemed to accept your answer, taking a seat at the counter without complaint. Still smiling like the idiot he was.

Atsushi huffed, crossing his arms. Childishly. Jealously. Pouting like a toddler who didn’t get the toy he wanted. “I don’t like him.”

“You don’t know him,” You countered, tugging on his sleeve before latching onto his bicep, letting your head come to rest on his shoulder. You sighed, heavily, barely trying to hide your own frustration. “Ito. He’s a coworker.” Atsushi shot you a glance. You responded without looking up. “Just a coworker. One I’ve been trying to avoid lately.”

“I can help with that,” Atushi offered, without hesitation. You were quiet, for a moment, and he shrugged. “It’s our job to look out for each other, right? If he’s bothering you, I could always--”

Another sigh. This one louder, deliberate. Atsushi didn’t need an explanation, going quiet as soon as he was cut off. “It’s just… it’s a work thing, another work thing. Management just changed the deadline for this project, so Ito and I have been seeing a lot of each other. We talked about this.” You paused, perking up, kissing his cheek fleetingly. “You’re right. It is our job to look out for each other, which is why I’m not going to let you tear someone apart because of your…” Trailing off, you looked for the right words. You found them with a stroke to his uneven hair. “Tiger instincts.”

Tiger instincts, right. Tiger instincts. Apparently, that was what you choose to call ‘being a good boyfriend’, now. He wasn’t sure what it was that set him off, your dismissal or the excuses or the threat you refused to acknowledge, but Atsushi found himself glaring at the tabletop, his silence earning another apologetic peck, this one to his forehead. He watched as you bit the inside of your cheek, following his stare, mumbling a quick ‘goodbye’ before awkwardly stepping over him, joining your coworker much too cheerfully. Atsushi had to take a deep breath, collecting himself as he remembered what he’d planned to do, what he had to do.

A talk. The two of you needed to have a serious, unpleasant, heartfelt talk. About your distance, about his resulting paranoia, and now, about Ito. You coworker that, for whatever reason, you didn’t want your boyfriend to meet.

But, you were already leaving by the time he was on his feet, and Atsushi’s break was probably long over. With as much reason as he had left, he told himself it could wait.

Tomorrow was another day, after all.

Tomorrow was not another day, after all.

Atsushi decided that abruptly and impulsively, when it was already more tomorrow than today, but there was little he could do to change his mind. It was a mixture of exhaustion and irrationality, really, a breaking point he couldn’t ignore. There was only so long one man could spend lying awake in bed, only so many nights he could waste mulling over the same topic and only so many days he could lose to paranoia and intrusive thoughts, but that didn’t matter, not as he climbed up the last flight of stairs to your apartment, hoping to convince himself to turn around by the time he got to your floor. He didn’t, though, he’d hardly budged by the time he arrived at your door, the only modification being the nails now embedded in his palms, his fists clenched at his sides. He reached for the doorknob out of habit, but barely made contact before gritting his teeth and knocking, instead.

If Ito was there, he wanted to give you a chance to hide him. It would only be fair, right?

He counted the seconds as he waited for you to answer, each passing minute only fueling the growing, unidentifiable itch slowly consuming what was left of his rational mind. Still, it couldn’t have been more than three or four before he heard the lock unlatch, the door swinging inward a second later. You didn’t make any more to let him in or step into the hall, rubbing your eyes blearily as you leaned against the doorframe. He must’ve woken you up, your hair in disarray and one of his shirts draped over your form, but any guilt Atsushi felt was minimalized quickly. There were things more important than sleep - you’d see that, once he started.

He opened his mouth, but you were already talking, a yawn interrupting every other word. “‘Sushi? It’s the middle of the night, and you didn’t… You’re not hurt, are you? I was just kidding about the whole ‘only one you can trust’ thing--”

“I’m fine,” He assured, hastily, almost having forgotten your earlier proposal. He took a step forward, hoping you would welcome him easily, but you didn’t make a move to, only blinking and waiting for him to continue. He did, albeit reluctantly. “We need to talk,” He said, attempting to get his desperation through as quietly as he could. “I love you, sweetheart, you know that, right? I love you so much, but you’ve been so distant, and it’s getting hard for me not to think…” Trailing off, he began to realize just how little thought he’d put into what he was actually going to say. He went on, regardless, stumbling over his declarations as gracefully as he could. “I know you’ve been seeing other people. If you’re… if you’re cheating on me, we can work through it, but you have to come clean. We can’t start, until you do.”

You were silent, for a moment, your stare as dead as it had been a moment ago. When you spoke, it was flat, passionless. “You’re right. We do have to talk.”

Atsushi swallowed dryly, attempting to maintain his composure. “We do.”

“We have to talk, because you’re always doing this.” Your impassivity faltered, this time, but you weren’t apologetic, you weren’t reassuring. No, no, it was your exasperation shining through, now, an exhaustion only thrust more into the spotlight by a groan and another rub to your eyes, as if you were willing him to disappear. He didn’t, of course, his feet suddenly rooted to the floorboards and his tongue a lead weight in his mouth, and you shook your head, going on reluctantly. “You want to know who I’m sneaking around to see? Who I’m avoiding you to spend time with? A presentation, Atsushi, a fucking spreadsheet, the same proposal I’ve been telling you about for the past three weeks. Maybe you’d know that, if you bothered to listen to a word I say. We’ve been spending less time together because I need a minute to breathe, every once in a while. I love you, Atsushi, but I can’t just love you.”

His heart dropped into his throat. Jumped? It didn’t matter, wherever it was, he was choking on it. “B-but Ito--”

“A coworker, like I told you.” You closed your eyes, but you were waking up, starting to focus on the man in front of you. “A coworker, one who already has a boyfriend. I would’ve introduced you, if I wasn’t so scared you’d tear his fucking throat out. I can only tell myself you’re just being protective so often, you know.”

He went quiet as soon as you finished, nervous ticks and fidgets dissipating into pure, frozen confusion. He wanted to believe you, he always wanted to believe you, but… he couldn’t. He wanted to believe you, but he couldn’t, and the guilt over his inability to do so nearly overpowered his anger, raw and primal and yearning for any sort of confirmation. With a wayward glance and a brief delay, you let your door fall away and held your arms out towards him, the gesture lethargic but no less inviting. That was the only sign Atsushi needed, his face buried in your shoulder and his arms around your midriff in a matter of seconds, the sigh you let out as you ran your fingers through his hair almost undetectable. “I love you,” You repeated. “I love you, but we really, really need to talk.”

Atsushi didn’t think he wanted to talk, anymore. “No.”

Your hands stopped moving. “No?”

“No.” Before he could think about what he was doing, he was lifting you off your feet and dragging you through the open entrance, barely pausing to kick the door shut. He didn’t want anyone interrupting the two of you, this time. You must’ve been surprised, your lips parting long before words could form, but he pressed his lips against yours in a hasty, fleeting attempt at comfort before finding the nearest wall, resting the brunt of your weight against it but never letting more than a hair’s width come between you. He wasn’t going to just sit back and watch that happen, again.

He wasn’t going to let you get away.

“We don’t have to talk, I don’t want to talk.” Both of you must’ve felt it at the same time. For him, it was the beast closing in, its arms spanning the length of his own and lending him its strength, its resolution, and for you, it came in the form of sharpened, curved needles driving themselves into your back, dragging across your skin with every writhe, every squirm, every breath. Something warm trickled over his hands, thick and stained, but he couldn’t bring himself to let you go. It had to hurt, he knew it had to hurt, but…

You’d already hurt him so much. This was fair. This was justified.

“Talking won’t get us anywhere.” He was breathless, now, his own voice hardly audible. He decided not to wait for a reply. Anything you could’ve said was already melting together and lodging itself in your throat, strangled sobs racking silently through your chest. You were trying not to scream, and he rewarded you with a fleeting kiss to your collarbone. “Talking is what got us into this. We can’t just talk our way through this. You need to trust me, and stop avoiding me and stop lying. That’s not going to work with me, anymore.”

He felt his claws recede, leaving striped trenches where they’d been embedded in your flesh, and you slumped against him, letting out a stifled groan. It might’ve been out of reflex, the underlying need to find something safe and curl into it, but Atsushi still let out a small laugh, more out of relief than anything else. His grip loosened, his arms falling to your waist but holding you upright as you struggled to stay on your feet. He’d have to take care of the gashes eventually, but it could wait. You just felt so small pressed against his chest, helpless and vulnerable and in need of something stronger to help you. Although he doubted he could ever say it outloud, Atsushi could get used to it.

He liked being the big one, for once.

“I’m sorry too, angel,” He whispered, beginning to rub small, slow circles into your lower back. “I didn’t expect you to understand. I know you don’t always catch onto these things quickly. But, that doesn’t matter.” You were starting to cry, by now, but Atsushi didn’t pay it much mind. By the time morning came, you’d see things from his perspective. The right perspective. “I’m going to take care of you, and no one’s going to take you away from me again. I’ll make sure of that.”

Another sob, this one coming as an uneven, scratchy croak. Atsushi only smiled, his grin pressing against your hair as he spoke.

“Everything’s going to be perfect, when I don’t have to worry about anyone but us.”

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